Chapter 11: Out into the World (1)
Chapter 11: Out into the World (1)
"People are coming from the village. They're riding horses."
At the warning from the first mercenary to spot them, everyone stopped chatting. In the distance, two figures were approaching along the road from Kingdom's End.
"That backwater shouldn't have anyone coming or going, should it?"
Even merchants only visited a few times a year, because the trip was not profitable enough to justify the trouble.
"Bring Sorin."
Beard, captain of the mercenary company, gave the order.
The one who had hired them was Sorin. He was a security official dispatched from Bonyard.
"A knight and a squire. Could be a servant instead, though."
When Sorin rode over, Beard reported.
"Are you sure he's a knight? My eyesight isn't what it used to be."
Sorin was past fifty. Through rigorous self-discipline, his posture remained straight, but his failing eyesight was something beyond his control.
"I saw light flash off his chest for a moment. He's a big man, too."
A burly man in metal armor on horseback. And Beard's instincts, honed by twenty years as a mercenary, were screaming danger.
"Most of all, he's advancing without the slightest hesitation even though he's looking right at us."
In a world so full of danger, the basic rule when spotting strangers from afar was to stop and stay on guard.
Yet those two came on without a flicker of hesitation, even facing Beard's mercenary company, which outnumbered them four to one.
"That's a knight, no question."
The strongest and most brutal killing machine humanity had ever produced in this era.
"What was that village over there called again? Kingdom Road?"
"Kingdom's End. Name's needlessly grand, but it's just a backwater. I went there once. The beer was nothing but swill, absolute piss."
"Then why's a knight popping up out of a place like that?"
The mercenaries murmured uneasily among themselves.
Mercenaries feared knights more than monsters. Of all the enemies they might face over the course of the job, a knight was the one most likely to kill them.
If it was monsters, at least you could run, but showing your back to a mounted knight was no different from begging to be killed.
Forming ranks during a war and then facing an enemy knight was hopeless. Fleeing in the face of the enemy meant summary execution, after all.
And if you held the line, you died to a lance, or a sword, or a mace, or a horse's hoof.
"What does the knight look like? Is he fairly old?"
Unlike the anxious mercenaries, Sorin looked pleased.
His mission was to deliver the city's invitation to Sir Goffrey, who was living in seclusion at Kingdom's End.
There couldn't possibly be another knight in a backwater village like that besides Goffrey. It meant his task had become far easier to complete.
"No. He looks very young."
But things didn't always work out as hoped.
"Could you have been mistaken?"
"Trust me. No matter how good you are in a fight, you can't last as a mercenary captain if your eyes are bad."
It was only an eight-man mercenary company, but being its captain meant Beard had sharp eyes and instincts. Without them, he would not have survived.
"You're right. My apologies."
"Not at all."
Sorin's face fell in disappointment.
"Captain, he won't attack us, will he?"
"It's hard enough making money in a backwater. What if he turns into a bandit knight in an instant?"
"Quit your worrying, all of you."
Despite his men's worries, Beard remained calm. He had good reason to be.
"We are on official duty for the city of Bonyard. Anyone with sense wouldn't dare act rashly."
"Exactly, sir."
Beard readily agreed with the confident Sorin.
"Any knight coming from that village probably doesn't have a fief or liege lord."
A knight was certainly fearsome, but this was not his domain, and the difference in backing was far too great.
Unless his life had gone completely off the rails, he wouldn't attack them on Bonyard's own doorstep while they were carrying out an official mission.
While Sorin and the mercenaries were suspecting Eugene of being a bandit knight, Eugene was likewise suspecting them of being a bandit gang.
But Eugene's attitude was the complete opposite. He approached the mercenaries calmly.
Having already fought the monstrous boar, his master Goffrey, and Marcus's company, he had gained an objective grasp of just how strong he was.
The handful of mercenaries before him, staring with eyes half-wary and half-fearful, weren't the least bit frightening.
"I am Sorin, dispatched under orders from the city of Bonyard, bound for Kingdom's End. These men are the Beard mercenary company, serving as my escort."
"Eugene Meyer. This is my squire, Homi. Must be fate. We were on our way to Bonyard ourselves."
Eugene smiled as he introduced himself and his companion.
It was a short exchange, but Sorin immediately felt certain that Eugene was a noble knight.
His words flowed together without blurring, and he enunciated certain consonants distinctly. He also used formal vocabulary that commoners rarely did.
It was a manner of speech that required education, much like posh English back on Earth.
Add his fearless approach, fine equipment, and excellent warhorse, and he had the unmistakable air of someone who had lived as a noble knight.
Meanwhile, the mercenaries' eyes went to the large crossbow that Homi was carrying.
The only one in Beard's mercenary company who carried a ranged weapon was Aul, a former hunter, and even he only had a weak shortbow.
By contrast, that large crossbow the squire held looked powerful enough to take down a boar in a single shot. It would punch straight through their flimsy plank shields and cripple an arm in one go.
"We've rested as much as we need, so we'll be off. But Sir Knight, you'd do well to prepare to make camp here."
Sorin spoke cautiously.
"Would you tell me the reason? There's still time before the sun sets."
"From here toward Kingdom's End, there are plenty of good campsites. Beyond this point, though, there isn't another one within half a day's travel. You may end up spending the night somewhere unsuitable."
The selection of a campsite was enormously important when traveling.
Even setting water aside, a good campsite needed clear sightlines against ambushes, an easy escape route, and shelter if rain came suddenly.
Where you slept could mean the difference between catching a cold and losing your life. And in this world, even a cold was no trivial threat.
"Thank you for the advice. It's my first time heading this way. I lived in Kingdom's End for a long time, you see."
"Ah, is that so. It's a truly peaceful village, that one. The people are simple and honest, too."
Sorin's eyes glinted, and Eugene did not miss it.
"If there's anything you want to know about the village, ask away. A favor deserves a favor."
The mercenaries took a liking to the knight for treating them so affably. Their earlier fear that he might be a bandit knight now seemed almost foolish, but they still kept their guard up.
"By any chance, do you know Sir Goffrey? I've heard he is living in seclusion at the monastery there."
"I know him well. Though I'm curious as to what business you have seeking him."
Without letting it show, Eugene readied himself to move at any moment. The only one among them carrying a bow was his first target.
"Bonyard wishes to invite him. This is an official invitation from the city."
Sorin produced a rolled-up paper from his coat. It was an official document stamped with the seal of Bonyard's executor.
Both sides relaxed at the same moment.
Both sides relaxed for different reasons. Eugene had confirmed that they were not enemies, while the mercenaries had finally learned the true purpose of their commission.
They had been nervous after being paid well and told not to ask questions, only to discover the job was nothing more than delivering a letter. They would gladly take commissions like this any day.
"Regrettably, I'd advise you to turn back. Even if you make the hard journey to the village, you won't find him."
"I'd heard he was there until only a few months ago. Did something happen?"
"He left not long ago. Seeing as you didn't cross paths, it seems you must have missed each other."
"Ah, damn!"
"Even if you had met, he would have declined the invitation. He's set off on a pilgrimage, so he won't be inclined to entangle himself in worldly matters."
Sorin nodded, relieved though a little disappointed.
Failing the mission stung, but thanks to this knight, he at least had a plausible excuse.
"You seem to know Sir Goffrey well. May I ask what your relationship is?"
"I was knighted by him. I am his direct disciple, and I inherited not only his swordsmanship but his armor as well."
Eugene thumped his chest plate with a fist.
"Oh! Then you are his honorable successor. This is fortunate indeed. Surely this, too, is God's guidance. Would you please read it?"
Sorin held out the invitation.
"I am not my master, you know."
"A direct disciple of his is more than qualified. The city will welcome you warmly."
It was an age when news traveled terribly slowly. It was common to arrive at one's destination only to find the person one meant to invite, or the item one meant to obtain, no longer there.
Setting secondary objectives for situations like this was essential when dispatching an envoy.
A direct disciple of Goffrey was more than enough to fall within that category.
"Well, in that case."
When Eugene nodded, Homi accepted the invitation. She knelt on one knee before Eugene and presented it with both hands raised.
'She can read.'
Sorin became certain that the knight's claim was true.
Fine equipment and physique, an aristocratic bearing, years spent in Kingdom's End, and even the refinement of literacy. Taken together, they were hard to explain unless he truly was Sir Goffrey's disciple.
"Hmm."
Meanwhile, Eugene, having read the invitation, sank into thought.
About eighty percent of its contents consisted of ceremonial greetings and praise for Goffrey's honor and achievements; the remaining twenty percent was the main point.
'We wish to host a knight of high renown. We will extend our utmost hospitality, so we sincerely hope you will visit us.'
That was the gist. But the letter did not say why they wanted to invite him.
Whether a danger requiring military force had arisen, or they simply wished to put on a display of the city's dignity ahead of welcoming an important guest, was unclear.
"Is the city in danger?"
Sorin took a deep breath and then spoke.
"To be honest, the surrounding area has recently been unsettled. The Gord nobles to the west, who have long coveted the city, have revealed their true colors."
War had become something of a sport spanning the entire continent.
The fact that Marcus came secretly with a small force to rescue Maria was also because they were in a state of quasi-war with rival noble houses.
Even Bonyard, which had used its peripheral location and diplomacy to avoid the flames of war, had reached its limit.
"Then it's possible I might accept the invitation and then find myself marching straight to the battlefield?"
"That is not the case!"
Sorin cried out in alarm.
"The invitation is simply meant to host an exceptional knight and borrow a little of his renown."
Inviting and entertaining a superior knight was, in itself, something that elevated the city's standing.
For a noble to eat and drink at someone else's expense was both an honor to the host and a favor the noble could expect thanks for.
"If the city faces a crisis, we might ask a favor. But I swear to you, whether or not to accept it is entirely the knight's right."
This was not a patronage arrangement involving money or equipment, only a stay as a guest. If that was all, refusing to do anything in return would not give anyone grounds to criticize him.
Goffrey had often told him how he had secured room and board that way in many places while avoiding troublesome obligations.
After deliberating carefully, Eugene looked at Homi.
'As you will.'
She mouthed the words, and Eugene made his decision.
"Very well. I accept the invitation."
"Thank you!"
Sorin's face brightened. Now he could report a successful mission instead of offering an excuse.
The mercenaries were pleased too. They could turn back here instead of trudging all the way to Kingdom's End and still receive the same pay.
Eugene felt the same. A formal invitation from a city was far more convenient than charging blindly into an outside world where he had no connections.
If they asked him for a favor and it was easy enough, he could put the city in his debt. If it looked life-threatening, he could simply decline.
"Then I look forward to traveling with you for the next few days."
"Likewise."
"Beard, prepare the camp!"
The mercenaries answered with a resounding shout.
"Leave it to us!"
Everyone laughed and began setting up the campsite.
With Homi's help, Eugene removed his armor and rested against a tree while the mercenaries gathered branches and roasted potatoes.
"Sir Knight, what will you do for your meal?"
The mercenary captain, Beard, approached and asked. He was a man with a shaggy beard, true to his name.
Eugene surmised it was not his real name. What parent would name their child Beard?
Mercenary work attracted people with all sorts of pasts, so it was common for them to hide their real names and start over.
In such cases, they often used nicknames as names, and it was an unwritten rule not to ask about the personal history of such individuals.
-Even if you're a knight and the other man is only a mercenary, don't ask. Among mercenaries, that rule matters as much as hospitality etiquette.
It was one of the pieces of knowledge Goffrey had taught him.
"If you haven't prepared anything, it's humble fare, but..."
Beard bowed deeply, holding two steaming potatoes in his hands.
"I shall eat them gratefully. Homi, we should offer something in return, shouldn't we?"
Eugene had planned from the start to share something with them, so he was already brewing tea in a pot. He had ground in a yam-like plant, making the drink thick and strongly sweet.
"Oh my, thank you."
When Homi approached the mercenaries carrying the pot, they all hurriedly scrambled to bring out their grimy wooden bowls.
Warm broth seemed easy enough to make on the road, yet it was surprisingly precious. Mercenaries, accustomed to sleeping under cold dew, never passed up a chance to warm themselves from the inside.
"It's sweet, so sweet!"
"Ah, feels like my throat's completely cleared out."
"I'll sleep well tonight."
Sweetness was already a rarity in this world. And a steaming, sweet broth during camp was a treasure indeed.
The mercenaries felt the weariness melt from both body and mind.
Night fell.
Naturally, the mercenaries handled the entire night watch. Homi still contributed with the keen sense of smell unique to beastkin.
Sometime before dawn, Homi suddenly sprang awake and growled toward one spot.
"Wh-what is it, Squire?"
The rookie mercenary on watch asked in alarm. Meanwhile, a veteran mercenary, catching on, looked in the same direction Homi was glaring at.
Soon, two pairs of yellow eyes appeared in the underbrush about eighty meters away.
"Wolves!"
The veteran wondered whether to wake the others. The wolves were still far enough away and merely hid in the thick brush, blinking at them.
Homi stepped forward past him.
"Grrrr-."
She issued a warning using a unique vocalization that carried far into the distance. A moment later, the yellow eyes vanished from sight.
"Th-they're gone?"
Homi nodded.
After answering the veteran, Homi returned to her place as though nothing had happened, curled up, and went back to sleep. Her thick tail was caught between her cute little lips.
"Did you see that? A squire who serves a great knight can even do things like that."
The veteran seized the chance to show off. Mercenaries never passed up an opportunity to lord even the smallest bit of knowledge over a rookie.
"Wow, that's truly amazing."
There was a ridiculous misunderstanding mixed in, but the clueless rookie could only marvel.