Chapter 113: The Bay (3)
Chapter 113: The Bay (3)
The sudden ambush was not the only thing that startled the slavers. The Samur warriors who rushed out were thrown off by the makeup of the intruding force.
"Why the hell are dwarves showing up here?"
"Aye, let's see if you can still call me a dwarf after tasting this old man's axe!"
A dwarf-made axe immediately slammed into the man's instep.
He had rushed into the sudden battle wearing sandals. The warrior screamed as the blow mutilated his foot into something resembling a cloven hoof.
Others regained their senses and counterattacked with curved blades and spears, but it was futile. With sturdy shields the size of their own bodies held before them, the dwarves were practically a moving wall.
In indoor combat, where fights were decided more by defense and raw strength than by technique, they were the mightiest race of all.
-We can't play guard duty forever. If we want a third contract renewal, we need to prove ourselves here!
-Uooo!
Centurion Rampage and the decurions were buzzing with energy at their first real combat deployment in a long while.
Unlike the founding human members in their heavy cavalry role, and the dark elves who had become partners in a shared fate, the dwarves always felt the need to prove their usefulness.
"Dwarves!"
"Why are those bastards here?"
Every warrior who came out as reinforcements was startled and blurted the exact same words.
"Is it really that strange to see us here?"
"Honestly, even I'd be surprised."
The dwarf warriors chuckled amongst themselves.
When a wealthy noble became embroiled in a conflict, dwarf mercenaries were often the first choice. Their loyalty, toughness, endurance, and versatility made them invaluable.
Not hiring them was practically a loss. Nobles who did without them usually just could not afford them. Yet there were no dwarf mercenaries to be found in Samur.
This was because the iron heavy armor that constituted their greatest strength rapidly drained stamina in the hot climate.
The deserts spread across the region were a trap for dwarves. Their combat loads were heavy and their legs short, so deep, yielding sand bogged them down like tidal mudflats.
"More reinforcements will come! Hold out somehow!"
"No, reinforcements aren't the problem. Even if they come, they can't break through... Aaargh!"
The guard captain tried to rally them, but for the men fighting at the front, it was a maddening situation. The iron shields covered the dwarves' entire bodies—where exactly were they supposed to strike?
The warriors' skill was not bad, but that was in duels against other lightly armored Samur warriors.
BANG! BANG!
CRUNCH!
Small shields were reduced to tatters in an instant under merciless axe blows. They were outmatched in strength and equipment, and it was not even a one-on-one situation.
"Skewer them!"
Behind the unwavering dwarven battle line, heavily armored soldiers gripped their spears with both hands and stabbed down. The guards, pushed back without respite, went tumbling backward, blood spurting from their thighs and arms.
"You bastards!"
Enraged by the sight of their comrades falling helplessly, warriors threw hidden weapons or fired light crossbows.
"Down!"
But all of them were blocked by the dwarves' shields. Then another rain of spearpoints followed.
"They're doing much better than I expected."
"We drilled that simple maneuver countless times. Even a fool could manage it by now."
Rampage gave his employer, watching with satisfaction from the rear, an amiable smile.
The small but sturdy dwarves held the front line while the human spearmen in the back rank thrust!
By exploiting the height difference between the two, it was a tactic that could more than double the attack power per unit of frontage.
It was a simple tactic anyone could think of, yet surprisingly rare in practice.
"We had occasionally thought of it ourselves, but this is the first time we have tried it in real combat."
"Well, that's because dwarf mercenaries usually fight in kin-only formations, so it stands to reason."
Combat in this age began and ended with formations. Dropping a human with different weapons and a different build into a dwarven formation honed over years could easily backfire in a crisis.
Even simple two-man tactics required considerable training. No noble would pay out of pocket to train mercenaries who would leave once their contracts ended.
"Aargh!"
A man whose knee was pierced by a spear collapsed, and then an axe split his forehead.
The spearmen gripped their spears in both hands and struck downward from an overhand position. They had trained specifically to attack freely from behind the dwarven front line.
It was the grip method that boasted the most destructive power in all of spearmanship, which made it difficult for the Samur warriors, accustomed to one-handed sword techniques, to either block or deflect.
It also left the abdomen wide open, so individual mercenaries rarely used it. Opponents unfamiliar with the technique had an even harder time dealing with it.
Grrrrrrr-!
"Bite! Bite them!"
Those infiltrating by another route ran into trouble when a man appeared with three huge wolves.
"Dire wolves?!"
"What the hell have you crazy bastards been raising underground? Get the crossbows!"
But contrary to their ferocious entrance, the wolves were quickly suppressed. That was because Homi was present.
"Grrrrng-!"
She answered a roar with a roar.
Yelp!
Yip!
The wolves immediately lost their nerve before Homi's bared fangs and glare. It felt as though a warg were staring them down, extinguishing their wild aggression.
Homi's riding and archery were not the only things improving with every battle. Her voice, infused with the Mystic power of the wild, carried the power to make beasts submit.
One wolf rolled over and exposed its belly, while the other two pressed themselves flat to the ground and buried their heads.
"Wh-what? Why are they suddenly acting like this?"
The man who had trained them since they were pups, living and sleeping alongside them, was thrown into confusion by a display of submission they had never even shown him.
Even as their master lay dying from a spear wound, the wolves did not raise their heads. A bond built over five years had evaporated in mere seconds.
The man stared at the wolves, who were like his own children, with eyes full of disbelief, and then his breath ceased.
"Whew. Took ten years off my life."
"At this rate, Squire, aren't you practically a mage yourself?"
The awed mercenaries held their weapons to the wolves' throats, but the beasts did not so much as flinch.
"Shall we kill these ones too?"
When the mercenaries asked, with an attitude that had grown markedly more respectful, Homi shook her head.
Then, seizing one wolf by the scruff of its neck, she let out a rumbling growl as if whispering. The fur all over the wolf's body stood on end like a chestnut burr.
Though Homi was overwhelmingly smaller in pure mass, no one found the scene incongruous. The thought of the wolf lunging and tearing out her throat felt like an imagining that went against the very laws of the world.
The wolves sprang to their feet and began moving in a single direction, as though leading the party.
"...!"
Not a single word of human language had been exchanged, but as veterans, everyone's instincts were sharp. They had caught the unmistakable scent of money wafting on the air. Homi and the mercenaries ran after the wolves as they led the way.
"All clear here too."
The female warrior checking the corridor at the vanguard signaled. She wore a brown leather outfit that clung tightly to her body, from which all manner of tools dangled.
"We were able to advance safely thanks to you."
"Not at all."
Because Cassandra's unit had forsworn mounted combat, it included many individuals who possessed unique skills. Among them were rogues adept at finding and disarming traps.
Eugene had been curious about a rogue's skills, but to his mixed relief and disappointment, there was not a single trap.
"I fear my advice has caused you nothing but delay, and I apologize. The strongholds of such wretches are usually crawling with every manner of filthy trap."
"Isn't it all just hindsight? There's no harm in being careful."
"Thank you for saying so."
At Eugene's praise, Cassandra gave a radiant smile. Rex rarely showed so much as a tooth during an operation, but Cassandra's battlefield demeanor was apparently different.
"They don't just trade slaves; they receive other guests too. No wonder there aren't any traps."
The two of them looked at the terrified men who had been bound securely.
It was a varied group: high-ranking city officials, nobles low in the line of succession, and officers from powerful mercenary companies. They had maintained mutually beneficial relationships with the slavers and enjoyed the pleasures provided here.
"With scum like this roaming about drunk, there was no hope of fortifying the interior."
"They wouldn't want their guests to suffer any indignity, after all."
'That woman's expression is something else.'
Cassandra looked down at the plump men in their undergarments. Her expression drew Eugene's unreserved admiration.
If the limit of cold was -273°C, then the limit of contempt could be said to be Cassandra's face right at that moment.
Setting aside her beautiful features, it was like glimpsing one of the world's extremes in a way. He was almost seized by the impulse to capture it in a painting.
"Is there something on my face?"
"No. Nothing."
Just as Eugene gave an awkward laugh, a report came up from the front.
"We've found a secret passage!"
A rogue's work was not limited to finding traps. Searching for the escape routes common in hideouts of this kind was precisely their specialty.
The most valuable treasures and the most important people were exactly what one would expect to flee through passages like that.
"The passage is already open?"
"The attack was so sudden that they apparently had no time to cover their tracks properly. If we pursue them now, we can catch—"
Cassandra, whose lips had begun to curl upward at the chance to finally earn some merit, froze in place.
"Please! Please, spare our lives!"
Beaten and battered slavers were being dragged out by Homi and the mercenaries. Their expensive clothes and seasoned air made it obvious they were the leadership.
Yap!
Grrr-!
The wolves who had switched sides had done spectacular work. They had not only revealed the secret passage but also led the pursuit and run down the fleeing slavers.
"You wretches worse than dogs — is this how you repay the grace of being fed and raised?!"
WHACK!
The slaver raging at the betrayal of the dire wolves that had been the hideout's pride pitched forward. Homi stood behind him after delivering a devastating knuckle blow to his skull.
"H-healing, please... the blood won't stop...."
Those who had tried to flee to the end had been bitten all over by the wolves and were streaming blood.
"Any other passages?"
"We interrogated the ones we caught, but this is the only one. The squire caught them all!"
Eugene looked proudly at Homi as the mercenaries reported. He only regretted that, with everyone watching, he could not pat her head.
"You did more than anyone in this operation. I'm proud of you."
Homi bowed.
Homi bent her left knee slightly, drew her right foot back, and placed her palm over her chest.
Unable to speak, she had practiced courtesies diligently in her daily life, and the result was a motion of surpassing elegance.
It was enough to impress even Cassandra, who had lived at court.
The warriors who had resisted had all been cut down, the leadership was captured, and the secret passage had been exposed.
The slavers' stronghold was nearly secured, but one last place remained.
"Fall back! Fall back!"
The dwarves who had been sweeping through with irresistible momentum were being pushed back for the first time on the lowest level.
"What's going on?"
The hideout was broad at the top and narrowed farther down, so Eugene quickly heard the commotion and hurried over.
The spearmen were desperately dragging out wounded dwarves, clutching spear shafts that had been snapped in half.
"These aren't ordinary slavers! They're using heretic magic!"
"What?"
At that moment, heretical friars appeared, their skin covered in blasphemous tattoos.
Their entire bodies were a mass of wounds, evidence of the fierce battle they had already fought against the mercenaries who had breached the place.
"Thrust a spear through their belly and they don't flinch. Strike their shoulder with an axe and it's the same. And their strength is something else..."
"One kick and this is the result."
A dwarf warrior showed his badly swollen wrist. Even though he had blocked with his shield, the impact had fractured it.
"Understood. Everyone, fall back."
Eugene drew Last Autumn and stepped forward.
"Lord, it's dangerous! Leave this to us."
"Before I am a lord, I am also a knight. I cannot simply hide in the rear when a strong foe stands before us, can I?"
Above all, the presence of otherworldly mysticism emanated from the heretics' entire bodies. Eugene's instincts told him that letting his troops fight them would result in heavy casualties.
'It's a feeling similar to that Heretic Knight I saw during the Bonyad subjugation.'
Yet he sensed no evil aura. Surprisingly enough, the aura was something close to purity.
"What is the meaning of this outrage in a sacred place?"
"Unbelievers! May divine punishment be upon you!"
The heretical friars charged, swinging their maces with little concern for defense.
Trusting in their immortality, they only bothered to avoid decapitation and were willing to take blows anywhere else.
But this time, they had chosen the wrong opponent.
As the silver Etherje blade unleashed a flash of light, blood sprayed forth and the divine protection that had shielded them was stripped away entirely.
TSSSS!
The blood on the blade evaporated like water dropped onto a heated iron pan.
"Gk-ah..."
The one who screamed in terrible agony lost his head to the second attack.
The startled ascetics swung their maces, but Eugene caught the blows against a corpse. The sickening sound of drumbeats echoed as the flesh burst open.
The lump of meat absorbed the impacts magnificently. A thrust extended through the opening and pierced another ascetic's heart.
"High Priest!"
"You bastard!"
The remaining ones recoiled in horror and shrieked.
Ignoring them, Eugene hurled the mangled corpse at the friars and raised a new human shield in front of himself.
"You, you fiend! And you still call yourself a knight?"
"How can you wear a human face and commit such atrocities?"
The heretical friars stared in horror, their eyes bulging wide.
"It's, it's efficient!"
"You're illegal slavers. What the hell are you talking about?!"
Eugene's subordinates, too, were quick to defend their lord and charged forward.
At the head of them, Eugene made masterful use of his newly acquired human shield, carving the ascetics to pieces as he advanced.
"High Priest..."
The heretical friars seemed to have been genuinely devout in their own way.
Even though the body was already dead, they could not bring themselves to attack it, floundering until they were cut down one after another.
When the last ascetic fell, a chapel-like space revealed itself beyond.
There, before a goddess statue wrought of gold, a single man knelt in fervent prayer.
"O Goddess! Your last faithful in this land face annihilation! Please, grant this pitiful servant your protection! Give me the strength to keep your legacy from being cut off!"
As though answering that desperate prayer, powerful Mystic energy surged from the goddess statue and was about to settle into the man.
The Bloodletting Dagger Eugene threw pierced through the back of the man's skull.
Flung with such immense force, the blade flew in a straight line and bored through the skull as though to shatter it.
SPURT!
Fresh blood spattered over the bare legs of the goddess statue as the man collapsed face-down, a corpse.
HUMMMMM!
A huge torrent of Mystic energy poured out and made the corpse buck, but its brain had already been destroyed. Even the undead could never rise again once the head was smashed.
"It's no use."
Eugene leveled his sword at the goddess statue and spoke.
"None remain to receive your blessing, so abandon them. Return now to the oblivion where you belong."
"Sir knight?"
To his trailing subordinates, only a faint tremor and a corpse were visible.
But Eugene could feel the powerful presence that had descended upon the chapel.
'It' was unable to tear itself away from the fallen corpse, laden with emotions of sorrow, grief, lingering attachment, and obsession.