Chapter 143: From Behind to Beside
Chapter 143: From Behind to Beside
The sanctuary where the sacred idol of Vanas was enshrined.
Clad only in a thin hemp robe, Homi knelt in a posture of formal seated meditation.
"Goddess. Here I entrust my precious one to you. Should she lose her footing, uphold her and guide her to the right path."
To grant a warrior on the brink of death time to bid farewell was Vanas's most representative authority.
Even when death was not at hand, the goddess could intervene whenever a profound transformation wracked the flesh.
Just as she had blocked the malevolent energy that sought to seep in and corrupt Might during his reincarnation process.
There could be no better place to prepare for any contingency when absorbing the Heart of the Forest.
"Ready?"
Nod.
Eugene laid the Heart of the Forest upon Homi's reverently raised palms.
The moment the two beings, which had ceaselessly pulled at each other like magnets, touched, a change occurred. The thing that had held the shape of a heart unraveled upon Homi's hands.
The heart was, in truth, a single elongated fiber twisted into a spiral.
Unfurling like a long bolt of cloth, the Heart of the Forest changed form and bloomed into a single flower.
Eugene could do no more than detect the potent remnants of a spirit from the flower. After all, however outstanding a knight and mage he was, he was human to the core.
Homi, by contrast, with the blood of the wild coursing through her, smelled countless layers of compressed flesh and blood from the flower. What dwelled within it was the fighting spirit of creatures that had perished across long ages.
Gurgle.
Homi's stomach reacted to the mouth-watering prey.
Her cherry-like lips parted, revealing teeth of pure white. It was a lovely mouth which Eugene had seen countless times while dining with her.
Yet today, for the first time, her mouth felt unfamiliar. The lips of the country girl who had contentedly munched on dishes her hometown older brother cooked were nowhere to be found.
In their place was the maw of a beast burying its face in the belly of a dying deer to feast upon its entrails.
Gulp.
Homi swallowed the Heart of the Forest in one breath.
As if that was not enough, her pink tongue licked her lips. It flickered like a serpent's, as though even the lingering scent of the mystery in the air belonged to her.
Eugene had never known Homi's tongue was so long. Nor that she—whom he had always regarded as a beloved little sister—could work her face and tongue with such bewitching allure.
Power.
It was the one wish that Homi, who had seemed to have no greed, secretly craved and alone pursued.
The moment she embraced it, her face blossomed into that of a woman fully grown and acquainted with desire.
Scrrrk.
From beneath Homi's palms where they pressed the floor, a grating sound arose.
Nails sharpened to points were testing their endurance against the stone floor built with Ancient Kingdom masonry. Had the floor been ordinary stone, it would have split apart like tofu.
When Homi reined in her will, the nails returned to their normal state.
"The claws came out, too."
"..."
From the tips of her kneeling toes, sharp, elongated claws had also grown in.
For some reason, Homi's face was flushed red. Her claws promptly retracted as well.
But these were merely the most superficial of the powers she had gained. The true power gifted by the Heart of the Forest was the inheritance of strife.
The hunt for food, territorial disputes, contests of strength for mating, stealth for ambush, and the agility to keep one's head from being chewed off by the female.
A competition of technique against technique, tricks and deceptions repeated thousands, tens of thousands of times each day in the wilds of nature.
Harsh trials that bestowed flesh and progeny upon the successful, and death upon those who failed.
Experiences forged solely through life-or-death battles dissolved into Homi's blood.
Homi slowly began to move her body. It was at once like a dance, like the gait of a beast, and like the reenactment of a forgotten martial art.
'The absorption appears to have ended safely.'
Eugene quietly withdrew, allowing Homi to be alone.
A reborn warrior needed time to make that power her own.
Thump.
As he left the sanctuary, Eugene laid a hand over his own rapidly beating heart.
Just as Homi had yearned for strength, Eugene, too, had longed for the day he could fight alongside her.
The wish to stand not behind, but beside them was not Homi's alone.
* * *
The Wandering Castle bustled with preparations to march out. A large-scale battle, on an entirely different order from the pirate subjugations and monster hunts they had conducted so far, lay ahead of them.
It was the war against the island of Sicily, to be waged under the authority of the Apostolic Council.
"You haven't even recovered from your wounds. Remain at the castle."
"They amount to little more than scratches. They will heal as we march."
The rescued tribal warriors who had newly joined them all wished to take part in the campaign.
The non-combatants readied all manner of consumables for those headed to the battlefield, including field rations.
The youths, who had just come of age and would face their first real combat, inspected their equipment with tense expressions.
"I never imagined the pirates would withdraw that quickly," Eugene remarked as he inspected the castle interior with Marbas.
"There are none as superstitious as men of the sea," Marbas replied.
Fear had spread swiftly after the Forest Spirit and the fiendish creatures she raised annihilated several major pirate bands.
-Monsters! The gods are angry!
-To be frightened of mere wights...
-They were no mere wights, I tell you! I felt their breath on my face!
The mycelial fiends possessed speed, resilience, and muscle power that defied comparison to the undead. The pirates zealously spread word of that terror.
"To think rumors of a plague would circulate, of all things."
"It's hardly strange. When enemies festooned with mushrooms all over their bodies charge at you shrieking, it is all too easy to be mistaken."
The pirates were gripped by terror at the rumor of a dreadful plague that turned people into monsters as mold bloomed across their flesh.
-Captain! We must flee at once! This place is cursed!
-You wretches! Even if we go, we should at least grab something and—
The chieftains were frustrated, but the fear among their subordinates was too overwhelming. On top of that, a subjugation army was being assembled in earnest, and they had no choice but to order a withdrawal.
The problem grew as the pirates who had been pillaging the western and southern coasts of the peninsula fled to the island of Sicily.
-No, you imbeciles!
In their desperation, the pirates had fled to the comrades with whom they had long exchanged secret pacts, but the nobles of Sicily found the situation maddening.
The relationship was one that ought to have remained a clandestine pact in the shadows, and now its true substance had been laid bare before the entire world.
Thus began the war between the Apostolic Council and Sicily.
"I knew the two sides were on poor terms, but I never imagined they would go so far as to declare a crusade."
"You need not place too much weight on the word crusade. Unlike in ages past, when one was declared perhaps once every few centuries, it is a term employed rather frequently nowadays."
"Ah, is that so?"
"It is a word that has been thoroughly corrupted by politics. There are no small number of cases where a crusade was declared only to peter out into nothing, or end in defeat."
"For all that, it seems every soul who is anyone is flocking to it."
Though they had withdrawn to the Wandering Castle, external reconnaissance had been conducted meticulously.
The scouts reported that countless mercenary bands, great and small, were on the move. They were mercenary companies from across the peninsula gathering to join the crusade proclaimed by the Apostolic Council.
"Because there is much to gain, whether they succeed or fail. The surest and safest path for a low-born mercenary to reign as a noble is to distinguish himself in a crusade."
The Apostolic Council proclaimed crusades for two broad kinds of situation.
The first was when a monster or bandit calamity arose severe enough to annihilate the noble family ruling a region.
The second was when a noble colluded with heretics or practiced a tyranny that could no longer be overlooked.
In either case, victory in a crusade created a need for a new ruler to govern the now-vacant land.
The Apostolic Council, where the leaders of many religious orders convened, possessed the authority and power to lawfully bestow noble blood upon the lowborn.
For a mercenary captain to proclaim himself a lord without such backing was an act of madness. It was a sure way to end up vanishing into a grave or swinging from a gallows within a few years.
"It is true that the Apostolic Council is a deeply flawed institution. It is oppressive, and politics influence it heavily. Yet there can be no question that in this harsh world, its members strive more than anyone else to protect the common people."
"They must have been appalled that the Sicilian nobles have been colluding with pirates year after year."
"And then, amid all that, the Forest Spirit appeared and raised those fiends. That was the last straw."
It was an age where when one incident erupted, all manner of wild rumors about it would swirl.
The event in which the Forest Spirit had reduced the whole region to a wasteland became distorted into a tale of wicked heretics raising an army of undead.
Surely the armed priests who had accompanied Eugene had returned and completed their report. There would have been testimony from other clergy and adventurers as well.
"By now, the Apostolic Council will have roughly grasped what truly happened, but they will have no intention of correcting the rumors anyway."
"Rather, they will fan them even further."
As close as Sicily was, it was still a war waged across the sea against a great noble of an island, and so it was necessary to amass as much justification as possible.
The Sicilian nobles, guilty of nothing more than taking kickbacks from pirates, serving as informants, and dealing in stolen goods, would no doubt feel wronged—but there it was.
* * *
The lord's private training hall within the castle.
Eugene was sparring with Varda, their wooden swords pressed against each other.
Just as Eugene learned the elven tongue from her, she was learning the sword for self-defense from Eugene.
"I always find this remarkable: for someone so slender in appearance, you possess considerable strength."
"There is no such thing as a frail woman who works the fields. A forest mage is an herb-gatherer and a farmer as well."
Unlike the large-scale training yards where the common soldiery drilled, this place brimmed with an air of refinement.
The floor, polished to a dark luster, was smooth as onyx and reflected those who leaped and sparred upon it as though it were a mirror.
Splash, splash.
The sound of feet moving back and forth across it was strangely pleasant.
Clack!
Wooden sword struck wooden sword, and dull thuds rang out one after another.
As it was a sparring match, Eugene had been adjusting his strength and speed, but Varda was responding with astonishing skill.
"While entangling the enemy with thorny vines, you must keep your defense firm. That is all you need to do."
The swordsmanship of noble young ladies that Varda had learned as a cultural refinement was completely reworked in her sparring sessions with Eugene.
Most of the sword paths dealing with offense were removed, and defense and deflecting were greatly reinforced. She retained only the check-and-prod techniques that minimized openings even if their power was weak.
"Knees a little lower."
"Like this?"
"Perfect."
It was swordsmanship focused entirely on safety. With her excellent stamina and strength added on top of that, Varda was holding out better than he had ever imagined.
For an ordinary swordsman, it would be absurd swordsmanship. A fight would not end without stabbing or cutting the opponent's vitals. But Varda had someone who could take on the offensive in her stead.
"Shall we begin priming the vine magic?"
"Understood."
Varda's lips fluttered a few times, and the fruit bound to the hilt of her sword swiftly sprouted. Since it was a sparring match, no thorns had grown that could tear an opponent to shreds.
The moment the Forest Magic was enchanted, even Eugene had to be on edge. The instant their blades met, those vines would come slithering over like a serpent and entangle Eugene.
"Try attacking."
Varda nodded and approached with her sword held upright.
"It feels somewhat awkward. There is not a swordsman in the world who charges like this."
Because of the peculiar posture, she even looked a bit like a standard-bearer marching forward.
"But it is the ideal swordsmanship for Varda-nim. The vines will handle all of the offense anyway."
There was no need for the characteristic poses of raising the sword high or drawing it back to load up destructive power. That would only needlessly create openings.
Clack.
Rustle!
The moment their swords touched, the vines coiled around Varda's wooden sword multiplied in length several times over.
Some of them crawled over through the point of contact onto Eugene's sword, and some vaulted like monkeys from sword grip to sword grip.
Cinch.
One vine strongly bound Eugene's sword hand and the hilt together.
An ordinary swordsman would thus have the dexterity of the wrist and fingers sealed. Beyond that, the constricting force would crush his fingers.
Whip.
The two other vines respectively coiled around Eugene's neck and arm.
"I surrender. Please spare me."
Bound tight, Eugene spoke with a laugh.
"Were it you, could you not tear the vines apart as much as you pleased? In the first place, if you had fought in earnest, the vines would not even have been able to cling to you."
At Eugene's attitude, which seemed to praise her outright, Varda let out a little snort.
"Varda-nim also did not go all out, did she? A common warrior would be unable to react, dodge, or tear free of the vines."
They would be caught and torn apart as vines bristling with thorns squeezed them mercilessly.
"Shall we end it here? Or a bit more?"
"...I wish to do more."
When Varda waved her hand, the vines that had been wrapping Eugene were reeled back in and returned to her sword.
Clack.
Clack-clack.
Several further exchanges of offense and defense followed.
Rather than swinging or thrusting, Varda focused on closing distance while pointing her sword forward and exerting steady force.
She concentrated on restricting the enemy's angles of attack and, at any moment, meeting blades and deflecting them.
"Most foes will be bewildered by this bizarre stance. And then, the moment they deflect, meet, or strike the blade away, they will be squeezed by the thorny vines."
Clack.
Eugene, wrapped in vines once again, laughed.
"Wow, this is truly a method bordering on cheating."
"Have you not been flattering me a little too much since earlier? It feels like patting a child on the head and saying, 'Well done.'"
"I meant it."
"As if."
When Varda snapped her fingers, the vines coiled around Eugene began to tickle him.
"Ho—hold on! Ahahahaha!"
Unable to endure it, Eugene used his full strength, and the vines restraining his body burst apart in an instant.
"My apologies. I was fooling around too much."
"Hmph!"
As Varda's wooden sword descended toward the ground, the torn vines crawled up it like snakes. They intertwined among themselves and cohered back into a single bundle.
"It can even recycle itself?!"
"The strength will be lower than before, but it is possible. For all that it looks this way, this magic incorporates rather precious reagents and materials in its own right."
Even on a small scale, rapidly growing and controlling plants was magic of high difficulty.
"Will you continue?"
"No."
Varda lowered her wooden sword.
"A guest has arrived. An adorable guest with an envious face, at that."
"Ah."
At the entrance of the training ground, Homi, in a prim posture, had been watching the two of them.
"It would be regrettable of me to monopolize you entirely. Is teaching one's squire not also an important duty for a knight?"
"You are right. Besides, it is the only thing I have to give her."
Homi had no desire for wealth or advancement. She was a loyal child who always simply devoted herself by his side.
The one and only reward she ever desired from Eugene was to spend time together.
* * *
Homi stood beside Eugene, who held a wooden sword. Leather pads were worn on both of her hands and feet.
"A martial artist... this is the first time I have actually seen one. I had thought, since she took in the beasts' mysteries, she might no longer use weapons, but..."
Varda, seated demurely a little distance away, wore a peculiar expression.
A fighter who had professionally trained in unarmed combat methods was called a martial artist when they stepped onto the battlefield.
However, as could be gathered from the fact that even the widely-experienced Varda was seeing one for the first time, they had no proven combat effectiveness whatsoever.
"Why do you look so troubled?"
"Hmm."
Advocates of the martial artist argued that hitting and kicking hard could be lethal.
But a sword or axe, even when stabbed lightly or prodded gently, would draw out entrails all on its own.
"Excluding myself, there is no one here who can match Homi in muscle strength. She could surely beat and break even men clad in plate armor."
"It would be even better to use that armor-breaking power to swing a weapon held in the hand."
Frankly, Eugene had nothing to say to that either.
"Moreover, she is your squire and a knight-to-be. On horseback, kicking will naturally be out of the question, and punching will be even harder to use. It would not look right in a tournament, either."
"...Please stop disparaging martial artists."
At Eugene's words, Varda started in surprise and looked at Homi.
"Ah! I am sorry. I had no intention whatsoever of speaking ill."
Homi shook her head as if to say it was all right.
Clench.
Then she clenched both fists and flashed a confident smile.
Though she had the slender form of a maiden, both Eugene and Varda felt a solid, boulder-like heaviness radiating from Homi.
Certainly, Eugene's instincts whispered to him of his own victory. But at the very same time, they also said this:
'If you fight her, strike her down in a single blow. If you fail, she will counterattack in ways you cannot even imagine.'
And in truth, it was so.
At some point, Homi's feet, stepping closer one by one, wavered uncannily.
By the time that slight swaying reached Homi's torso, it had transformed into a great undulation. Like reeds tossing in the wind. It was a bizarre movement of a kind he had never seen before.
Like a venomous snake dangling at the tip of a reed, Homi's vice-like grip shot forward.
- Never forget that an enemy you cannot predict is the most dangerous opponent of all.
It was a lesson Goffrey had always emphasized.
Even a single hidden trump card was not easy for an ordinary warrior to possess. On Homi's body, such means hung in bunches.
* * *
Even Eugene had to give his all in the sparring match with Homi. Her physical abilities and beast-arts having risen to their limits, she was not the sort of opponent he could fight while holding back.
Of course, it was always Homi who was thrown and sent tumbling.
"Enough! Let us stop here."
Thud!
Seeing Homi sprawled out spread-eagle on the training ground, Varda declared an end to the session.
Homi's face, as she drew ragged breaths, was filled with satisfaction.
The sensation of having wrung out her strength to the very last drop. The exhilarating sting tasted as she exchanged offense and defense with Eugene on near-equal terms.
For Homi, who knew so few pleasures, it was an overwhelmingly potent stimulation.
"You are uninjured."
After checking here and there over the training garments Homi was wearing, Varda nodded.
Though she had been thrown about, kicked, and struck in the course of their practical sparring exchanges, not even a small bruise could be seen.
She had always been a girl of sturdy body, but now a faint Mystery rippled beneath her entire skin. She radiated a resilient force, as though she could deflect even arrows like a warrior of myth.
"You come here as well. I shall wipe away your sweat."
"Gladly."
Eugene and Homi lay side by side. Varda seated herself at the head of the two and stroked their hair.
Snap.
When Eugene snapped his fingers, the ceiling lights illuminating the training ground vanished, and darkness settled in.
Within the darkness, only the soft sound of a cool towel wiping the cheeks and necks of the man and woman could be heard.
Homi quietly closed her eyes. She tasted Varda's cool touch upon her cheek and savored the warmth of Eugene's hand with their fingers interlaced.
A complete happiness, made whole by being together as three, brimmed richly in the darkness.
It was these final moments of tranquility they shared before the great war ahead.
End
ⓒ Gusojae#1wecx