Chapter 147: A Monster Among Hungry Wolves (4)
Chapter 147: A Monster Among Hungry Wolves (4)
The oppressive pressure that had been threatening the knight vanished in an instant.
'An illusion?'
It was such a fleeting sensation that it failed to cool his heated competitive fervor. The desire to defeat Eugene and make a name for himself reignited immediately.
He was like a carp that had its mouth pierced by a fishhook, managed to wriggle free by luck, and then promptly bit the bait again.
But that was precisely what a knight was. Beings trained to become extremely simple-minded in the face of fighting spirit.
"You mean to hide behind a handmaiden even after being challenged? If you are a knight, then face me squarely!"
"How rude. Homi is no handmaiden. She is my one and only squire."
"Squire?"
The knight stared at Homi with a surprised expression.
Though tall, her frame was slender and her fingers were thin. At a glance, she did not look suited to be a squire attending a human weapon like Eugene.
"And I told you before. Homi is my weapon, is she not? Her fighting is no different from me swinging my own weapon."
"What kind of sophistry is this!"
The knight took Eugene's attitude as a provocation.
"The sacred knights of the Apen Peninsula fight with divine blessing upon their blades. Do not let a bit of fame earned in the savage lands up north make you arrogant. How dare a country bumpkin like you act so impudent—"
Smack!
Homi's palm lashed across the knight's cheek.
She had not so much as blinked when he insulted her by calling her a handmaiden, but she would not tolerate her master being insulted.
Crash!
The hand flew so fast the knight could not dodge it. Yet the force behind it was fierce enough to send a sturdy man sprawling.
"Grr!"
The knight scrambled to his feet, a bright red handprint stamped on his cheek. The pain he could endure, but the humiliating stares from the onlookers were unbearable. Just then, Homi extended an index finger toward him.
"A duel."
Homi, who had been completely silent, spoke one short sentence.
What the Heart of the Forest had gifted Homi was not merely the strength to stand and fight beside her lord.
It had also taught her how to control the wild nature that had been coiled around her throat. Though she could still manage barely one sentence a day.
That was why Homi chose her words carefully each day.
-Thank you.
When she received a gift from Eugene.
-It's delicious.
When she tasted a dish Eugene had cooked.
-It's pretty.
When she received a scarf Varda had knitted for her.
-No fighting.
When the young dark elf children in the Wandering Castle got into fistfights.
-Keep it up.
When she gave a nod of thanks to Haind, who had drawn maps of the surrounding terrain while attending Eugene.
Whenever those lovely lips parted, everyone marveled at the beautiful tone that rang out.
-It is truly sad that such a beautiful voice must be kept bound up so tightly. The gods can be so cruel.
Varda was the one who lamented it the most.
And so, Homi seized today's opportunity to bring down the hammer of judgment upon one who had insulted her lord.
"My squire declares she is challenging you to a duel. Surely you do not intend to refuse?"
"Fine! I accept!"
The situation had taken a strange turn, but there was no backing out now. He would first defeat the squire before him, then challenge that insolent Roman knight to a duel!
* * *
Everyone had a plan that seemed plausible. Until they got hit.
Bam!
Homi's elbow drove into the knight's face, and he sprawled out spread-eagled across the training ground.
His squire, who came rushing out in a fluster, shook him desperately, but the knight did not even twitch. He had passed out cold, his face looking as if his soul had fled his body.
"Wahahaha!"
"What the—! You get knocked out in one hit by someone who doesn't even have a blade?! Quit being a knight!"
Cheers and jeers poured from the crowd onto the squire who was struggling to drag away the armored knight.
Normally, it was a class difference that made them afraid to even make eye contact. But during the martial tournament, they could hide in the anonymity of the crowd and mouth off all they liked.
Watching the fights was part of it, but many spectators were drawn to the charm of being able to speak informally and hurl mockery at their betters.
"Franco!"
A man who appeared to be a friend of the knight being dragged away unconscious rushed in to take his place. Word that Eugene had appeared at the training grounds had spread, and a throng of knights who had been waiting for the chance came flocking in.
"I am Julio, a knight of House Verati! I challenge you to a duel!"
Julio threw his gauntlet at Eugene.
It was not that he feared Homi and sought to avoid her. As a knight of some renown from a fairly prestigious house, no one but Eugene registered in his sights.
But Homi was not one to stand by and watch. She unfastened the whip at her waist and struck the flying gauntlet upward.
Crack!
Homi caught the gauntlet, its trajectory altered by the impact in mid-air. Unless one was a fool, they could recognize her declaration of intent to fight in her lord's stead.
As everyone marveled at the astonishing skill, Julio bit his lip.
"A loyal squire, I see. Very well. Draw your weapon."
As Julio leveled his sword, Homi raised a fist clad in her gauntlet.
"A martial artist? Are you mocking me?!"
This was a world where even blunt weapons like hammers were treated as minor arms. Knights who lived by the sword and died by the sword regarded martial artists as even lower than mercenaries.
It was a bloody bare-knuckle fight.
-There, be off with you now.
-Hehe! Thank you kindly!
With swollen faces and bloodied lips, they would grin as they picked up the silver coins nobles tossed them.
Even if they trained their whole lives, they would either die wretchedly by some back-alley thug's dagger, or scrape by shedding blood in a clown show. That was the knights' perception of martial artists.
But the moment Homi kicked off the ground and rushed in with terrifying speed, Julio's face twisted in shock.
Feeling as though a bull was bearing down on him, he swung his sword with all his might. It was a training blade and therefore edgeless, but packed enough force to kill if it struck a vital point.
Screech!
Homi simply deflected the sword with the alloy guard covering her wrist. Then she drove her fist into his exposed abdomen.
'Foolish! You'll only break your own wrist.'
Julio wore armor reinforced with a steel plate over his front. That flimsy fist would be easily absorbed, and then his next strike would—
Kwahng!
"Kgh!"
Julio's train of thought was instantly severed. As the steel plate crumpled, an incredible shock tore through his guts. He could not possibly hold onto his senses.
Julio's waist folded as if he were bowing deeply, and Homi seized both sides of his face.
Bam!
Her knee drove straight into his face.
Julio flew backward, blood streaming from both nostrils, his eyes rolling back as he lost consciousness.
"That must be a technique you taught her?"
Varda, who had been watching, asked Eugene.
"How did you know?"
"I have been invited to noble banquets many times and seen martial artists from entertainment troupes fight. But I have never seen a technique like that."
"It's called a knee strike. You pull the opponent's face in like this, and then..."
Eugene mimed a mixed martial arts move, kicking his knee up into the air.
"There is no need to tell me the name of the technique. And no need for a demonstration, either."
Varda gently pressed down Eugene's rising knee and sighed.
"As a prospective knight, a life of strife is unavoidable, but that is far too brutal."
"There's no such thing as too brutal in a fight. Winning is all that matters."
"Homi is a knight, but she is also a lady. I want her to be respected not only for her strength but for her beauty and elegance as well. She is a young lady who deserves as much."
No sooner was Julio carried out than a third challenger appeared.
"O beautiful knight! I, Branden, challenge you! I will defeat you and earn the right to face your lord!"
A large knight cried out spiritedly as he strode onto the training ground.
Seeing her so handily defeat two knights, he appeared to have concluded she was a fully-fledged knight, not a mere squire.
"When will you grant her knighthood? I believe she has more than passed the threshold in terms of both skill and dedication."
"I have already proposed it several times, but Homi has declined."
A squire had the duty to attend and serve their knight. Every squire found it bothersome and longed for the day they could stand on their own as a knight.
It was a source of pride, a right, and her greatest wish.
But if she were raised to knighthood, she would have to stop. There was no issue with a knight serving another knight as her liege lord, but personally attending him was absurd.
Whoosh!
Even the sound of Branden's greatsword cutting the air was extraordinary.
Yet Homi met that fierce momentum head-on. Her gauntleted hands moved with eerie precision and snatched the greatsword out of the air.
"What?"
Branden felt the force of his downward slash evaporate as if sucked away somewhere.
The sturdy sword that had defeated many foes in tournaments was caught as pathetically as prey seized by a praying mantis.
BOOM!
Branden let go of his sword and flew backward.
"..."
"..."
The spectators stared entranced as Homi slowly drew back her fully extended leg. The elegant motion was reminiscent of a snake-catching eagle.
A smattering of applause that began from someone quickly spread and erupted into a heated ovation.
At this, the gathered knights completely shifted their objective. Homi, who had been toppling the Peninsula's knights one after another, had now become a temptingly worthy opponent herself.
Thud!
Smack!
All who came charging at her were sent flying and crashing down, blood spurting from somewhere on their faces.
"How can a whole mob of you not beat a single person?"
"Shouldn't she be resting soon? She's faced knights in succession all by herself."
"She hasn't even broken a sweat yet, though?"
The Apen Peninsula was also home to renowned knights.
"Try blocking this too!"
One knight targeted Homi with his house's secret flowing sword technique, a lethal move that abruptly changed trajectory mid-attack to strike a vital point.
But Homi leaned her body far back and dodged the sword. An ordinary person would have fallen backward, but Homi had a third leg.
Her long, thick tail braced her, granting time and balance. In that opening, Homi planted a hand on the ground and delivered a diagonal turning kick.
Whoosh!
In Homi's kick, which surged with tremendous air-splitting force, the knight saw the image of massive hooves striking.
The finishing move of a horse, capable of beating even a lion to death, was flying straight at his face.
Crack!
The knight spun three full turns and fell with a heavy thud.
Homi's punches or kicks—no one had yet withstood a single blow from either.
"Aaaah!"
"Elegant knight!"
Among the cheering crowd, particularly fervent were the noble young ladies in fine attire.
It seemed they had been holding a tea gathering somewhere, heard the stories, and came to watch.
They gazed at Homi with eyes burning with admiration and passion, faces half-hidden behind their fans.
The tedious days of learning embroidery, social dancing, and refinement, waiting for the political marriage that would someday come as a member of a noble house.
This lady knight, dancing and leaping about as she smashed burly men to pieces, excited them more than any prince from a fairy tale.
"Homi. Winning is fine, but shouldn't you acknowledge the crowd? Aren't their cheers what become a knight's strength?"
Nod.
Homi, answering her lord's call, strode over to the noble ladies.
At her powerful presence, the ladies brought their hands to their chests, faces flushed.
-W-would you accept this?
Homi took out the flower she had received from the young stall-keeper she and Eugene had visited earlier.
She assumed the courtly posture Cassandra had taught her.
Swish.
Her tail, curled around the flower, halted before the noble lady's face. With its lush white fur, the flower took on an air like a rose blooming amid baby's breath.
"Is it... is it for me? Sir knight?!"
Instead of answering, Homi gave a light flick of the tail holding the flower.
"Eee!"
The young lady clasped her hands and stamped her feet, beside herself.
Her face looked as though she had reached heaven.
"Varda-nim. It seems we needn't worry about Homi being unpopular, wouldn't you say?"
"..."
When the number of fallen knights reached eight, no more challengers appeared.
* * *
From that day on, Eugene spent his time in comfort.
Part of it was Homi, the midway gatekeeper, having beaten the challengers to a pulp, but the larger reason was the continued arrival of his army from the north.
For the sight of a powerful host steadily gathering under a single banner was one of overwhelming authority.
"This many from the Black Hand Mercenary Company?"
"Are they insane? How on earth can he afford all that? He'll come to his senses only after taking a knife to the gut for this."
The Black Hand Mercenary Company was the most expensive group on the continent.
They knew that if they provoked the Black Hand badly enough, their entire House would be burned to the ground.
"Will everyone be disappointed if they learn I'm receiving a special discount?"
"No. They'd be even more intrigued instead. That those haughty, arrogant people have formed such a special relationship with a human. A dark elf lowering the price when selling their swords is unprecedented."
Varda nodded in satisfaction as she looked over the massed Black Hand Mercenary Company.
In the world of knights, authority was ultimately completed by the army one led. No matter how many achievements one had, if the army they commanded was small, all manner of pests would pester them with harassment.
And what about now?
The knights who had been buzzing and the mercenary captains who had stared with eyes full of jealousy—all of them now slowly averted their gazes.
"I had clearly heard he was a knight with no title, but this..."
Unlike the other onlookers, these fellow warriors could not sneer at Eugene.
Because one could tell much just by seeing the look in the arriving warriors' eyes as they regarded Eugene, and the attitude with which they treated him.
That was the attitude one showed a lord who had genuinely won their devotion—loyalty and respect impossible to buy with money alone.
"At that level, it looks as if he could take the right wing alone."
"Indeed. In the last monster subjugation, even Count Bordo's family forces were not quite that impressive."
Exclamations of admiration sounded from knights here and there.
The tactics of this era were simple. While the left wing held and the center adjusted the balance, the elite troops deployed on the right would shatter the enemy's flank.
On a battlefield where the only means of communication were shouting, flags, and trumpets, and where each commander wielded authority independently, more elaborate tactics were impossible.
Generally, the right wing was a position expected to win great glory. Mercenaries avoided it because it was a fierce post, but knights favored it because it was a place to earn honor.
"Would it not be wise, even now, to seek out Sir Eugene and offer a greeting?"
"Indeed... When I saw him extending charity in the slums, he certainly looked magnanimous. He would not treat us poorly."
Knights began to emerge who sought out Eugene to establish ties and, if the chance arose, join his army.
They were mostly free knights or knights of humble houses.
"Have you no pride, sir?"
"How can you bend your waist to those savage northern bastards?"
The knights from the powerful families of the Peninsula looked upon that sight with displeasure.
They understood the Holy War Knight Order taking the center. But they had expected the right wing, at least, to fall to them.
"Why don't you say that to his face? Instead of slandering him where he can't be seen."
"Why, you—! Have you said all you have to say?"
Conflict never ceased wherever knights gathered. A large reason those troubling Eugene had disappeared was that they had begun squabbling among themselves like this.
* * *
The Hammer Brotherhood coming by land took a while longer.
"Every time we received word from Rampage, I looked forward to the day I might meet you. I am called Walker."
The dwarf smith who accompanied them greeted him courteously.
It was not only warriors that Eugene had summoned through Rampage. He had called a significant number of dwarf engineers to conduct a full-scale renovation of the Wandering Castle.
"Well come. Even as it was, Rampage and his men were being worked to the bone so badly I felt sorry for them. Now I'll have one less worry."
They fought as warriors, stood guard, repaired the Wandering Castle, and ran the forge to mend arms and armor. Whenever the need arose, they were even conscripted by Varda to decorate the castle interior.
"To think I should see the legendary Wandering Castle with my own eyes. My men are full of anticipation as well."
True to his name, Walker had the look of a man itching to start work that very instant.
"Before that, could you take a look at this?"
Eugene showed Walker and his apprentices the massive axe. Axe was a mere name—it was so huge that the length of its blade alone rivaled that of a typical greatsword.
The axe head was made of underworld metal smelted from the lava of hell.
"Wh-what on earth is this?"
Walker's beard bristled at the faint heat emanating from the mass of metal.
"Hell's metal. Beyond that, I know little myself."
It was a five-meter-tall ghoul born from a womb made of demons' corpses.
"As you can see, it was handled roughly and never maintained, so it's in poor shape. And I can't carry it around with a haft like this."
"Wickedness fairly emanates from it just by sight. At this level, it may well be called a haft fashioned from the undead."
Walker nodded.
Every part connecting the haft to the axe head was made of bone infused with sorcerous power. A dreadful resentment seeped steadily from within.
"I heard there were many renowned smiths in New Canaan, so I brought it along, but I couldn't entrust it to them. The orders have taken too strong an interest in me. I worried that if I left this with them, unfounded rumors might spread."
"You did well! Leave it to us! We'll fit it with a new haft made to sit perfectly in the Castle Lord's grip!"
Walker, having received a magnificent task from the outset, thumped his chest with his thick hands.
"It's hell's metal!"
"It must be precious enough to dismiss even meteorite iron as mere dross."
His apprentices rubbed their hands together and swallowed hard.
Just as a warrior's caliber is determined by how perilous a foe he has slain, a craftsman's caliber is determined by how great a work he has laid his hands upon.
And in this, craftsmen were at many disadvantages compared to warriors.
In a world teeming with dangers, all a warrior needed was courage. Seeking out mighty foes was no difficult thing.
But for a great metal, even finding it was an epic trial.
Many a craftsman labored a lifetime in the forge yet never handled even a rare metal, let alone meteorite iron, before ending his days.
An axe smelted from hell's metal needed no further words. Later, when exchanging crafting tales with other smiths, none would dare claim to rival it.
"Wait but a moment. I'll have it out before long."
Walker stroked the axe and grinned.
Through his beard, he could feel the unknown magic slumbering within the hell's metal. Now, having gone long without maintenance, it lay dormant, sunk deep within the metal.
But once it was refined in the craftsman's hands, it would blaze forth again and leap from the metal's surface.
"I will entrust it to you in good faith."
"Look forward to it. I shall present you with an axe that can sever even the neck of a dragon."
Watching the dwarves discuss how to restore the hell axe, Eugene sank into his own thoughts.
'I need more weapons.'
He had faced in a short span several mighty foes that an ordinary knight might see once in a lifetime, if ever.
Last Autumn was a powerful blade that destroyed all magic, but its reach was short.
The great flail had long reach and was powerful, but its strength was limited to blunt impact and it possessed no magical power.
With no knowing what bizarre enemies he might meet in the future, the more means he had of dealing with them, the better.
End
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