Chapter 142: Heart of the Forest
Chapter 142: Heart of the Forest
The personnel who had been hiding in the lord's manor were far more isolated than during Cassandra's rescue.
However, the large-scale pirate invasion and the resulting quasi-wartime footing had worked in their favor. The lord had stockpiled provisions and supplies at the mansion.
The Black Hand mercenaries gathered those supplies and evacuated to the manor's basement. Because of that, they were not forced to go ravenously hungry or drink urine as they had during Cassandra's ordeal.
Instead, having been trapped underground for an extended period, the stench was far worse.
"At this rate we're bound to get sick. Let's get everyone washed up first."
"But Sir Knight—no, Castle Lord."
Under the cold stares of Rex and Cassandra, the leader of the survivors corrected his title.
"There's no telling when that crazed spirit might attack again. This is no time for a leisurely bath."
Despite being an extremely hardened warrior, his eyes trembled faintly, which suggested that Nínloth and the infected monsters had thoroughly put him through hell.
"The Forest Spirit has been dealt with, so rest easy."
"I-Is that true?"
"Those are what you fought, correct?"
Where Eugene pointed, the heads of Nínloth and the Spirit Mage hung on display.
"Incredible! The silver arrows didn't work on them, and we suffered terribly..."
"That is because the monsters are neither undead nor magical beings."
The Forest Spirit that was the main body would have taken damage if struck by a silver arrow. But the monsters she had commanded were beings rooted in nature itself.
If she sent them forward as a screen, even a well-equipped army had no answer. Even the Black Hand mercenaries, outfitted with silver arrows and supernatural countermeasures such as witch talismans and shamanic spells, could not help but be confounded.
"Were there any village survivors?"
"It had already been finished by the time we arrived. We also confirmed the Castle Lord's body when we broke into the manor."
"I saw that as well. He left a will stating he would not become a monster and took his own life."
This was an age when taking one's own life was considered a great sin. The terror the Forest Spirit had inflicted was so immense that even a noble with a stronger faith than a commoner would go that far.
"It seems the well alone won't be enough to wash all of these people, though."
Watching them split into male and female groups and head toward the temporary baths, Rex remarked.
They were hastily drawing water from the manor well and the village's communal well, but that alone looked insufficient.
"There's no rule that says you have to wash with water, is there?"
"Pardon?"
"It appears the lord here was quite fond of wine. The storehouse was piled high with it."
Eugene gave a broad grin as he watched Homi come in carrying a wine cask on each shoulder.
"Let's treat our family to a proper skin treatment today."
* * *
Swish!
"Ah, that's refreshing!"
"I thought I was going to die from the grimy feeling."
While the dwarf warriors erected makeshift barricades in the village and patrolled, the dark elf survivors all bathed at once.
"Never thought I'd have an experience like this in my life."
A dark elf woman, her entire body drenched and now coated red in wine, laughed merrily.
"Here goes, one more cask opened!"
When Cassandra's subordinate swung an axe to shatter the seal, a tart aroma of wine rose up.
It was not a high-end wine, but one that could be obtained in bulk because it tasted decent and was cheap. It would be a little lacking for a banquet, but it was perfect when quantity was needed over quality, as was the case now.
"It feels wonderful~."
Wine trickled in rivulets down beautiful bodies on every side. The fragrance wafting throughout the baths was such that merely breathing felt intoxicating.
"But it seems a bit of a waste. With all this, we could drink until our bellies burst for months."
"Why? Isn't this nice too? I feel like some noble's daughter. When else would we ever indulge in such luxury."
A warrior woman stretched out her long legs and beamed at the red droplets falling from her toes.
Thunk!
The sound of new casks being opened rang out from all around.
"When it comes to wine, we already have plenty of good stock at our castle. You can drink to your heart's content as soon as we return."
"After you've had a good, long soak in a warm public bath, that is."
Cassandra's warrior women spoke with a laugh.
"Does the castle really move and all?"
"They say it came skimming across the Samur Desert and smashed up the slave traders."
The survivors had been active on the Apen Peninsula for a long time after leaving Roman, so their information was somewhat out of date.
"It's shaped a bit like a ship, but it can't sail. The whole thing is a lump of stone."
"It vanishes and reappears rather than simply moving, I'd say? When you're inside the castle, the whole world changes in the blink of an eye. See for yourself. It is a place that absolutely defies explanation with words. Ah! I want to go back already."
As mercenaries roaming the continent, they had never attached much value to the act of 'returning.' It was just a change of lodging, after all.
But everything had changed after they settled in the Wandering Castle. They had never imagined that having a place to return to, a place to decorate with one's own spoils, could bring such profound satisfaction.
"If a bugbear or a troll saw us right now, they'd charge at us like they were in heat. Right?"
The women, now thoroughly steeped in wine, laughed and traded jokes.
Livestock farmers castrate young boars or bulls to obtain meat with a tender texture.
Similarly, even when eating humans, monsters far preferred women over men. Men were hairy, their flesh was tougher, and they gave off a strong, gamey odor.
Right now, women thoroughly soaked in alcohol as they were would make any monster's eyes roll back as it charged at them.
'Everyone seems to have recovered their spirits.'
As Cassandra poured wine over the girl before her, she fell into thought.
From the report, three casualties had occurred, but to have managed the situation down to this level in such a crisis was nothing short of a heaven-sent stroke of luck.
'If that person had not been here...'
The compatriots now bathing in wine would have been dead. She and her rangers would have been aboard a slave ship as well.
Upon hearing the news of that tragedy, Chieftain Alessa would have wailed in grief.
"Princess?"
While she was lost in thought, the tilting of the cask had stopped, cutting off the flow of wine. A youthful face that had been washing itself looked up at her endearingly.
"Ah, sorry."
Drip-drop.
The girl closed her eyes and let the wine pour over her. Though not yet of age, she had a body toughened enough to pass muster as a warrior.
She was not sent into direct combat, but the Tribe had many boys and girls who served in such auxiliary roles on campaign. It was a custom likely to disappear before long, however, since the Castle Lord was strongly opposed to child soldiers.
"Call me by my name. I have left the court."
"Yes. Lady Cassandra."
Even though the prophesied doom had yet to arrive in earnest, the House had already faced several crises. Perhaps each of these incidents was a fragment that made up that ruin.
Cassandra keenly felt the need for overwhelming power—the shelter of an existence like a boulder that could weather any storm the world threw at them.
'Is this why humans build castles?'
As a descendant of nomads and a proud wandering warrior, Cassandra had once scoffed at settled people. But she could do so no longer.
Once they had finished bathing in wine, they rinsed off with the well water they had set aside. The stickiness vanished entirely, and an aroma wafted from their hair and every inch of their skin.
"Sniff! Ah, the smell is really nice."
"Don't cling to me, you wench. It gives me the creeps."
"Whyyy!"
As they were busy tying and braiding one another's hair, a messenger sent by Eugene arrived.
"The Castle Lord ordered the rescued survivors to sunbathe and take naps."
"Our condition isn't that bad, though?"
"He says being isolated underground for an extended period can cause sickness of the mind."
"We're not children. We're not that fragile, you know."
At Cassandra's words, the surviving women bathing all nodded in agreement. For warriors who had undergone harsh training, this was a trial that a bath and a hot meal could wash away.
"The Castle Lord told us to say that he thought the same. However, he added that regardless of how strong the mind is, going without sunlight for too long has adverse effects on the body."
Eugene had judged that a major serotonin deficiency would result from being trapped in the dark for so long.
"He asked that you trust him and follow his instruction, and stressed that there is absolutely no intent to insult you."
"When he puts it that way, there's really nothing we can say back, is there?"
Cassandra let out a sigh.
The Castle Lord possessed a surprising depth of knowledge regarding physical conditioning, first aid, and survival.
It was by no means inferior to the knowledge the Black Hand House had inherited from its ancestors and refined over generations. If he judged that sunbathing was necessary, then it truly must be necessary.
"We are currently preparing a place to lie down within the manor. Once you have all washed, you may rest and sunbathe there. He said the return to the castle will take place after the morning meal tomorrow."
Cassandra nodded her head, but she felt a slight sense of unease somewhere inside.
The Castle Lord's considerate care for everything was certainly something to be grateful for. But the more she grew accustomed to it, the more she also felt as though she were gradually sinking into a swamp.
How to put it—it felt as though something was being draped over her, over the fierce identity of a nomadic people that they had preserved for so many long years.
But she did not feel like resisting it. The House was clearly growing stronger in both quality and standard of living than it had been before.
Above all, she did not dislike the sense that a mighty being was sheltering them.
It might have been a soft-minded thought, ill-suited for a warrior collective that had always faced a harsh world with its head held high.
There were, in fact, some who voiced discontent because of it. They were the ones who cried out in opposition when Eugene tried to reform the family's excessively harsh traditions.
-Weakness is seeping into the family!
-But haven't we grown stronger than before? If our past selves fought our present selves, I think our present selves would win easily.
-...
But the voices of those traditionalists carried little weight.
Because Eugene had not only provided a place to settle, but had also gifted them better supplies and equipment, nutrition, tactics, and training techniques.
* * *
A map of the peninsula was spread out where the leadership had gathered.
"Did you know that the Apostolic Council excommunicated Count Sicily by unanimous vote?"
The commander of the survivors pointed a finger at a large island in the southern part of the peninsula.
Though called an island, it was a large landmass rivaling any minor kingdom. It was a crucial hub of transport, connecting Samur, the Continent, the Peninsula, and even foreign lands beyond the ocean.
Count Sicily, as the name implied, was the representative noble who ruled the largest and richest territory there.
"He is said to have lent a hand to this massive invasion by the pirates. Taking bribes and passing on information was the baseline; I hear he even handled the trading of weapons and stolen goods."
Unlike the Apen Peninsula, which was also a trade hub but housed the headquarters of the orders, this was a place isolated as an island. Thanks to that, the Sicilian nobles had a reputation for walking a tightrope, joining hands with anyone as long as there was money to be made.
"Is there definite proof?"
At Eugene's question, Rex shook his head with a laugh.
"Does proof matter? The Apostolic Council has been quietly nursing a grudge against Sicily for covertly colluding with pirates anyway. Now that the monster-men are running rampant on top of it, they've seized their pretext."
"It is as the sub-chieftain says. The Apostolic Council has declared a crusade, accusing Count Sicily of colluding not only with pirates but also with heretics."
Count Sicily, suddenly branded a heretic worshipper, protested that it was absurd, but his objections fell on deaf ears.
And countless factions, seeking advancement and wealth in this opportunity, were gathering like jackals, each wanting to intervene in their own way.
"These are the forces whose participation is considered certain."
The commander of the survivors, having stayed long in this region, was well-versed in the surrounding circumstances.
His dark fingers placed copper, silver, and gold coins according to the size of each military force, in place of flags.
"The Apostolic Council is certain to want the Castle Lord's participation above all else."
"Isn't that too generous an assessment? Those leading armies of my size are hardly rare."
"Absolutely not. The moment the Castle Lord enters their territory, they will send an envoy. I would wager my title on it."
The commander declared, thumping his chest with his fist. He seemed remarkably certain of it.
And there was good reason. Eugene was a knight riding a wave of fame, and the army he led consisted of the continent's finest elite soldiers.
Above all, he had a record of slaying multiple champions of the evil gods, including a heretic mage.
From the Apostolic Council's perspective, they could have no better candidate to serve as the vanguard and symbol of their crusade.
"What will you do?"
Everyone's gaze converged on Eugene.
It was a sensation that had, at some point, become natural for Eugene. This sense that his single choice determined the destination and destiny of countless kin.
It was heavy, but it was the life of a monarch, instilling a pride equal to that weight.
And Eugene had an intuition that the present situation was, in many ways, a perfect time to make a major score.
His fingers placed the seal ring of House Meyer on one spot on the map.
"Since we have no need to procure ships, it will be more comfortable than the others."
The ring rested atop the wealthiest port city on the island of Sicily. At the sight, everyone present erupted in roaring cheers.
* * *
The subordinates were letting out shrieks of delight over the spoils gained so far, which were now added to everything looted from the entire manor.
Meanwhile, Eugene was staring at the lump placed on the table with an expression of wonder.
"What is this?"
Its shape resembled a heart, but it was a mix of green and brown, and its texture was also closer to that of a plant.
"The Heart of the Forest. It is the crystal core that the Forest Spirit you struck down kept within her."
"Is it something like the magic stone that was inside the Wendigo?"
"No, it is far more precious than that. Come closer..."
Eugene brought his face close to the Heart as Varda's touch guided him. Varda chanted a simple spell and lightly tapped the Heart.
Ba-dump, ba-dump!
The Heart of the Forest pulsed and emitted a mystic fragrance. It touched Eugene's face, bringing a refreshing sensation.
"You could call it a crystal of the mystic force accumulated during her existence as the Forest Spirit. The difference from a magic stone is that, like a living herb, it can be ingested. Then its mystery can be absorbed into the body."
"Oh! A kind of inner elixir, then."
"Inner elixir?"
Varda tilted her head as if hearing the term for the first time.
"I mean something like a potent tonic."
"A tonic is a tonic, but this is something that cannot be bought even with a fortune in gold."
"What kind of effects would one see from eating it? Immortality, perhaps?"
"Surely not. That is nothing more than a legend spread by charlatans boasting of eternal life. There has never been a great noble or king who ate one and gained eternal life, has there?"
"That is true."
Those in power desired immortality more than anyone. The most concrete proof was that no king in history had ever achieved it.
"What the Heart of the Forest bestows is the power of wild instinct. Do you recall Nínloth's movements?"
"They were simple and instinctive, yet refined to the utmost extreme."
Because she had been surrounded by Eugene and his army, Nínloth had been on the defensive from beginning to end.
But she had still exuded the aura of a predator, ready to lunge at any moment to tear out an enemy's throat and split open their belly.
That was precisely why Eugene had avoided a direct frontal confrontation, instead striking with surprise attacks through gaps created by his subordinates' assaults.
"That was not something learned or trained through effort. It was simply the result of observing beasts over long years and naturally absorbing their wild instincts."
Varda lifted the Heart of the Forest and placed it into Eugene's hand. Then, the thoughts of all manner of predators transmitted from the pulsing Heart could be felt.
The forepaw of a bear snatching a salmon as it leapt against the current.
The beak-pecking of a grouse, enraged at a rival who came to steal its females.
A mantis snatching a grasshopper with hands like twin sickles.
A mongoose dodging a viper's fangs with split-second reflexes.
A secretary bird stomping a snake's head to death without mercy.
Countless struggles of those who lived a life of survival in nature were condensed into a single mass.
A beast, without anyone to teach or correct it, comes to understand combat techniques on its own through a few failures. That is because skills honed over tens of thousands of years are inherited through its DNA.
"If I absorb this, I can inherit that legacy?"
"For most people, it is impossible. Just as a beast cannot understand the language of men, the wisdom of wild instinct cannot be accepted by a human."
"Then it would be usele... No, not quite."
Eugene and Varda's gazes shifted to Homi, who was standing nearby.
"???"
Varda smiled warmly at the snow leopard girl, who was pointing at herself with a face that said, 'Me?'
Her golden eyes as she looked at Homi were filled with affection.
"Homi. Your long-cherished wish lies here. Have you not always wished to fight side-by-side with your lord at all times? But not having received knightly training, there was a limit to that."
Homi nodded with a serious face.
Although mastering mounted archery had given her some breathing room, close-quarters combat was still impossible.
How envious had she been of Haind as she watched him fight alongside their lord at the tournament in Gord?
It had been the same in the battle against Nínloth. While the other knights fought beside their lord, she had been forced to fret helplessly in the rear since her arrows were sealed.
"But that will now be a thing of the past. The Heart of the Forest will cause you to be reborn as a true warrior. The choice is yours."
Had the Heart of the Forest recognized Homi's presence as well? It seduced Homi, emitting a mystery incomparably more passionate than when Eugene had touched it.
Left as it was, with the Forest Spirit gone, the precious memories of nature held within would simply evaporate.
It wished to dwell within this mighty and pure child of nature who had appeared before it, to continue its lineage.
Gulp.
Homi, too, swallowed hard before the immense mystery of nature pulsating before her eyes.
It was because she instinctively realized what the Heart of the Forest could grant her.
It was her wish.
The strength to fight, allowing her to stand proudly against even the most formidable foe.
At the same time, it was the right to remain beside her beloved lord until the final moment of either of their lives.
End
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