Chapter 149: A Monster Among Hungry Wolves (6)

It was a teleportation that had been repeated many times since Eugene became lord, but this time there was one peculiarity.

Spectators had come from all over the peninsula to watch the Wandering Castle's departure.

"That is the last legacy of the Ancient Kingdom!"

"It truly looks just like the fountain in Bonyard. Though the size is incomparably larger."

"Is that all stone? Would a stone from a catapult even scratch it?"

"It was built by the Ancients even before considering its thickness — would it?"

They were mercenaries not participating in the Sicilian expedition, adventurers who made novel experiences their calling, and nobles idly chasing after amusement.

"Did I not say you could trust my nose?"

The dog beastkin hired as a guide puffed out his chest with a proud face. His short, thin tail wagged ceaselessly with the joy of a mission accomplished.

They performed brilliantly in search operations with their distinctive sense of smell. This commission had been easy — simply tracking the scent of massive stonework through the forest.

"Set the table. I shall dine here while admiring the castle."

"Understood."

Around the nobleman seated arrogantly in his chair, servants bustled about industriously. A table and food were laid out, and a parasol was unfurled to block the sun.

The sight of such privilege being flaunted even here drew weary expressions from everyone.

"Look at the sky! Something is starting!"

The midday sky, clear with the arrival of autumn. Something that was neither dark cloud nor mist began to form there like bubbles.

As if in response, the surface of the enormous castle glowed white. It began to waver as though enveloped in a heat haze.

Crackle!

Crackle-crackle!

A noise like tens of thousands of static discharges bursting at once rang out as the castle resonated. Even the spectators felt chills rise on the napes of their necks and the hair on their limbs prickle upright.

Flash!

In an instant, a single colossal bolt of lightning surged upward toward the heavens. The relic of the Ancient Kingdom, so utterly majestic, vanished in a single moment.

The trace of the teleportation remained as dark-red mist and sparks drifting splendidly through the air.

A powerful aftershock storm swept through in its wake. The spectators flattened themselves to the ground and struggled to endure the sudden calamity.

"Aaaagh!"

"My lordrrrrd!"

The nobleman who had been sitting in his chair with his legs crossed and putting on airs was swept away by the wind just as he was. At the sight of him tumbling head over heels and becoming covered in dirt, everyone laughed as though this was deeply satisfying.

Several birds flying nearby were sucked in, spinning round and round, while ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the trees shook madly and raised a clamorous noise.

The squirrels and field mice that had been roaming the ground all hid inside their burrows at once, like fish in a pond after a stone had been dropped in.

"Whew!"

"Good heavens! The castle truly disappeared! That massive lump of stone!"

As the storm subsided, the spectators embraced one another, marveling at the spectacle of a lifetime.

"Come now, hand over your money. Was I not right? Legs, my foot. Trying to move something like a mountain of rock on legs would break them all."

Those who had won their bets on how the Wandering Castle moved collected their money with broad grins.

"Damn."

"It looks like a ship, so what is this about lightning!"

Those who had bet on it walking on legs, those who had bet on it sailing by gliding over sand and water, and those who had bet on spirits appearing to pull it — all lost their money.

Meanwhile, the herbalists ran out as though they had been waiting.

"Please, just one ogre lotus root! Even a mandrake or a golden mushroom would do! O Lord!"

They had come hoping magical herbs might grow where the magical castle had stood.

Was this not a world where the superstition had spread that dipping bread in the blood of a publicly executed criminal and eating it brought good fortune? It was no strange thing for such rumors to circulate.

Of course, the Wandering Castle had no such function. If anything, the dark elf women had already swept away all the nearby herbs clean, so only a wasted trip awaited them. The herbalists, not knowing this, ran off with bright, innocent smiles.

* * *

"Send word that we surrender unconditionally!"

The acting lord of Messina, dispatched by Count Sicily, immediately raised the white flag.

The port of Messina was an excellent trading hub, but it was not a place well-suited for defense.

At the sight of the army landing with overwhelming momentum, the sailors and laborers all fled.

"Is everything loaded?"

"Yes! Dear, set off at once!"

Those with a bit of money loaded their valuables onto wagons and set out on the evacuation route with their families.

At the empty dock, only a single great monument greeted the invaders.

It was a remnant of the old era, erected when countless people had been sent to the East in the name of reclaiming the holy land. The inscription incised into the monument read as follows:

'A new world awaits you. Seek the holy land and wash away your sins. Be held in God's embrace and ascend to heaven.'

Now, save for zealots like the Orthodox Church, most of the orders regarded this as a shameful past — calling it a 'march of meaningless death.'

After polytheism had taken root, the orders officially abandoned the recovery of the Eastern Holy Land.

They proclaimed a new Canaan on the Apen Peninsula and established the Apostolic Council. Thereafter, there were no more endless marches to death, nor bloodshed among the religious orders themselves.

"God, watch over us."

"Hmph!"

The war priest and the holy warrior each passed the monument — one making the sign of the cross, the other ignoring it, according to their own convictions.

The former was of the school that held the faith of the pilgrims should at least be honored.

The latter was of the school that regarded the past — of inciting so many into meaningless sacrifice — with shame.

"That is all a heap of money."

"We must endure... damn it."

The mercenaries advancing into the city of Messina looked around like starved puppies.

"Looting of the port is strictly forbidden!"

"All of you, eyes front! Find your share on the battlefield!"

This was because the mercenary captains, who had been sternly warned in advance, were bellowing at the top of their lungs.

Looting the port of Messina, famed for its wealth, was something the peninsula's mercenaries had fantasized about at least once. Just when they had thought it was finally possible, it proved an empty dream.

"Captain. Can't you just pretend not to see for one minute?"

"Shut up and keep advancing if you don't want to die."

The looting rights of mercenaries were so important that even captains had difficulty restricting them arbitrarily.

This was because, if handled poorly, accumulated grievances could later manifest in the form of rebellion and the expulsion of the captain.

But in a situation where even the Holy War Knight Order was lending its voice to the warnings, they had no choice but to hold back, customary law or whatever else be damned.

"This is a crusade, and this city is protected in the names of the gods!"

"Those caught committing disgraceful acts shall not merely be dealt with under military law! They will be taken away by inquisitors and face religious trial!"

Even for mercenaries who lived only for today, greed had no choice but to subside when faced with threats of this magnitude.

There was a reason the orders were going to such lengths to prevent the city's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sacking.

"The landing is complete. Not a single door of a civilian house was touched, so Sir Eugene will be satisfied as well."

"You have done well, brother. Controlling the greedy could not have been easy."

It was because one could not deliver goods to the recipient in a ruined state.

"Sir Cain. Our fleet will stand by here."

"Well done. May God's blessing be with you."

"That blessing will be needed more by those who shall fight from here on. I wish you fortune in battle."

The captains belonging to the trading companies and the Republic nodded in salute to Cain. He was the overall commander of this expedition and the leader of the Holy War Knight Order.

"Sir Eugene's army?"

At Cain's question, the war priest shook his head.

"The scouts have checked beyond the city, but they do not seem to have arrived yet."

"Is he truly coming? The newly established expedition plan presupposes that he will bear one axis of it, but..."

"Several of the mercenary captains are growing quite agitated. They ask where all the forces of those tents on the New Canaan Plain have gone."

At the priests' reports, the furrows in Cain's brow deepened.

"Sir Eugene will come without fail. The compensation he was promised is that extraordinary. If he withdraws here, his name will be cursed for eternity."

The stakes had indeed grown too great. If he failed to appear here, Eugene's name and honor would be trampled into the dirt.

However, among the priests, there were many who harbored doubts about the Wandering Castle, which they had never seen with their own eyes. They merely trusted quietly because it was the decision of the highest leadership.

"Sir Cain. The nobles are clamoring about when we shall depart."

"Tell them to wait. Does it make any sense for us to go alone while leaving the main force behind?"

Cain was dumbfounded by the knights whose judgment had been blinded by ambition and confidence.

Those unfamiliar with the full picture believed the Holy War Knight Order was the main force, but the reality was different. The army led by Eugene was the true core of this expedition.

Just when Cain's patience was wearing thin from the knights pestering him again and again, the air beyond the far edge of the earth began to ripple like waves.

At the sight, Cain nodded.

"He has come."

It was the advance of an army. As seamless shields and armor reflected the sunlight in unison, the air was distorted like a mirage.

In the center, the dwarf warriors arrayed in broad formation were clad from head to toe in iron armor.

"Crazy dwarf bastards. Don't they collapse dressed like that?"

"Hey, those bastards can run around all day even bundled up in that ridiculous getup. They may look like fat lumps, but strip them down and it's all muscle."

The mercenaries who had landed were wearing armor in their own fashion, but the difference in thickness and durability was so great it was embarrassing to compare.

The mercenaries' swords and spears would bounce off dwarf-made armor, but conversely, the hammers those dwarves swung would simply crush them.

With such heavily armored dwarf infantry formed up in ranks, they gave the oppressive feeling of a steel fortress walking forward.

Behind them came the dark elf archers and slingers. Unlike the common lightly dressed archers, they all wore sturdy leather lamellar armor, making their elite status evident at a glance.

On both wings, the infamous horse archers rode, their black cloaks streaming in the wind.

Once battle began, the enemy, blocked by the dwarves' iron wall of a defensive formation, would fall under a rain of arrows pouring in from all directions.

"Looks like ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠we won't need to worry about dying."

At that overwhelming display of might, the mercenaries voiced their admiration. Even the veterans who had rolled through many battlefields and built up their experience had never seen a force so brimming with martial majesty.

"Putting on airs."

"Does that country bumpkin not think about the aftermath?"

The ambitious mercenary captains and nobles clicked their tongues. It seemed certain at a glance that Eugene would walk away with the largest share of this war.

All they could do was curse that he would go bankrupt from the expense of fielding that enormous force. From a third party's perspective, it was quite a plausible scenario as well.

That is, if one did not take into account that Eugene was employing the Black Hand Mercenary Company at a bargain price, that he was earning great sums through the Wandering Castle, and that he had been promised three great cities.

"Welcome, brother in the faith. Having you join us, Sir, is truly reassuring."

Commander Cain spread both arms and welcomed Eugene.

"It seems we are a bit late."

"It is fine. I have heard from the bishops about the restrictions on where the Wandering Castle can take root."

Cain pointed to the port city behind him.

"Your city is safe."

"Is it already my city?"

"Should it not be so, that you might fight a little harder in the battles to come? For one draws more strength from defending what is one's own than from seizing what belongs to another."

At Cain's jest, Eugene also laughed, nodding in salute.

"..."

"..."

Homi and Haind, attending behind him, bit their lips and managed their expressions. Their liege had now come to stand at the starting point of truly grasping a title in his hands.

There was an immense difference between governing a rural village and ruling a great city.

And was it not Messina, a city that held tremendous significance in religious circles? In the strongly devout noble society of Roman, the title of Lord of Messina carried an enormous premium.

"Count Sicily has sent an ultimatum. He says he will grant one final chance to withdraw. If we do not, he says that not a single fragment of bone among us shall ever leave this island, even in death."

At the messenger's report, not a single person was cowed.

"And he says that the Caliph's elite legions stand with them, so if we dare attack, we shall see hell—"

"What insolence!"

"We shall surely stand that man before the judgment seat!"

At that last part, the Holy War Knight Order erupted in furious voices.

The count had likely wished to threaten them by invoking the name of the Caliph, but it had backfired. It merely stoked the anger of the order's warriors by revealing that he had drawn in the power of a foreign state.

Given their history, there was still great hostility toward the alien civilizations and religions of the East.

They no longer cried out for expeditions to the Eastern Holy Land, but the other side invading their own domain was an entirely separate matter.

"The numbers are similar. The count has gathered more troops than expected."

The defending army Eugene had assessed numbered slightly under six thousand. By contrast, the expeditionary force numbered roughly forty-five hundred.

The Apostolic Council had reduced its numbers from the original plan because Eugene's addition had made the army more elite.

They had settled on the direction of increasing individual combat power by making supply lines more abundant.

Count Sicily, on the other hand, fighting in his own domain, was far more advantaged in terms of supply.

He hired mercenary companies without regard for quality or reputation and scraped together conscripts, escaped pirates, and even reinforcements from the Eastern Empire.

"They are many in number but nothing more than a motley rabble. They are no match for us, gathered under the banner of faith."

'I'm not exactly the devout sort, though.'

Eugene wore an awkward expression under the trusting gazes of Cain and the priests.

Among them, Eugene had been distorted into a purifier who wandered the world slaying monsters to thwart the stirring of the evil god.

There was no harm in leaving them with a good impression, so he never bothered to correct it.

"Sir Eugene. There is a difficult request I wish to make of you."

"?"

As Kain stiffened his expression and spoke carefully, Eugene tensed as well.

'Could it be he wants me to charge at the very front?'

Given the magnitude of the reward they would receive, it was a perfectly plausible demand.

"Would you take command of the left wing?"

"...Understood."

Misinterpreting Eugene's deflated attitude, Kain hastily added.

"My apologies. I understand your desire, Sir, to shatter the enemy on the right wing. However, we must also save face for those we have known all this time..."

The right wing was a place of honor where elite troops were stationed, and as the main attack route, it was where one could seize the greatest glory.

If Eugene, having been denied this position, were to rage at the insult, Kain would find himself in a cold sweat.

"Pay it no mind. This is a holy war, and the greater cause comes first."

Yet to Eugene, who accepted it calmly, he expressed deep gratitude.

On the opposite side, the mercenary captains and nobles were preparing for battle with hot-blooded expressions. Their desire to seize even a scrap of land in this crusade and reign as lords dripped palpably from their faces.

As far as Eugene was concerned, that was most welcome. For the right wing was the most perilous of the three formations.

It was said they would attack the relatively weaker enemy left wing, but as the vanguard of the assault, their casualties were bound to be heavy. Moreover, as the fighting progressed, they were prone to overextend and thus be flanked by the enemy center.

"It worked out well. They'll be the ones shedding the blood, so we'll just work up a little sweat and collect the reward."

"Sir Knight. They will hear you."

Rex whispered to Eugene, glancing around at their surroundings.

* * *

At last, standards numbering in the triple digits faced one another in a standoff.

The Sicilian army held the advantage in numbers, but in sheer momentum, anyone could see the expeditionary force was overwhelming.

Sicily's weapons and armor were a hodgepodge, and many conscripts were mixed among them, fearfully scanning their surroundings.

As if sneering at the sight, a single noble knight from the expeditionary force rode out. He raised a lance bearing his family's banner.

"You island rat bastards! If you call yourselves knights, face me boldly! Here stands Carlo of the Visio family."

The other knights waiting behind watched him with envious eyes.

To step forward before a great battle, announce one's name and lineage, and engage in single combat—that was a glory every knight coveted, and a path to advancement.

The competition to be the one to do so was fierce. The knight fortunate enough to be chosen believed himself blessed by the gods and fought with even greater fervor.

"Why does that fellow keep glancing at me?"

Eugene wondered at it as he watched Carlo steal more sidelong looks at him than at the Sicilian army.

"Is it not obvious? You must be the one he most wishes to impress on this battlefield."

Rex spoke with a chuckle.

"Don't tell me he still harbors the foolish hope of fighting me?"

A knight is a creature of competitive spirit. Even when they were enjoying the banquet at New Canaan, some knights had stared at Eugene with burning eyes.

But as the hour of the decisive battle drew near, an atmosphere of restraint had taken hold, discouraging internal quarrels, and so they had not challenged him in the end.

"What are you talking about? You will soon hold a viscount's title and a great city; you must think accordingly. That fellow wants to catch your eye and become your vassal."

"Ah, that was a possibility too."

Come to think of it, there had indeed been several knights who looked at Eugene with an aspiration that felt different from mere competitiveness.

"Is there not a single knight among you who knows honor?!"

When no knight from Sicily came forward, Carlo cried out in desperation.

Before a battle, a duel between knights was also an event to divine whose side the gods favored.

In some respects, it could be seen as an element of battlefield faith. Therefore, it was performed by custom even when it was not strictly necessary.

"Ignore him and give the order to advance."

As Count Sicily's command fell, his army began its general advance.

"You, you worthless scum!"

Carlo bellowed at the top of his lungs and returned with a face full of indignation.

"Not a bad judgment."

"The count's army surpasses ours only in supply and troop numbers. For knights to fight each other would yield no favorable outcome for them."

Eugene and Rex raised their estimation of Count Sicily a notch.

A pragmatic attitude that chose to swallow shame and maximize his own strengths rather than be bound by custom.

Though it was dishonor in the eyes of this era's nobility, for Eugene or Rex, it was more than enough to earn a passing grade.

* * *

"Charge! Should I become a lord, I shall see you all swimming in silver coins!"

The captain of the Black Dog Mercenary Corps, deployed on the right wing, roared as he led his men.

"Ooh! We trust you! Captain!"

'Bullshit. Like he'd ever keep that promise.'

The men cheered outwardly but cursed inwardly.

For there was no trust whatsoever in a captain notorious for his pettiness.

"Gah!"

Yet his skill at the vanguard, cleaving through conscripts, was as formidable as ever. His subordinates, hoping for extra pay, charged in after him.

"Follow me!"

The participating nobles and knights also vied with one another to rush forward, as if loath to be outdone.

"Do not fall back!"

"I will summarily execute any who retreat!"

The Sicilian knights and the mercenary companies hired by the count also fought back viciously. A few cowardly conscripts and green mercenaries were beheaded as examples.

As the left, center, and right wings of the expeditionary force all joined battle, the clamor of clashing arms and screams resounded loudly.

Most conspicuous among them was, as ever, the left wing led by Eugene.

"Thanks to you, there will be no need for flag signals."

Because of Might's massive bulk, Eugene stood out starkly on the battlefield.

When he raised his right hand, the dark elves in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the rear line behind the dwarven shield wall raised their bows as one.

Because this was an expeditionary battle and the island's terrain made securing horse feed extremely difficult, half of their force had to leave their horses behind and come as infantry.

In exchange, they could bring longbows instead of mounted composite bows.

The sight of six hundred elite archers turning their great bows over once in their grip and then nocking arrows was without a millimeter of error.

Before them, the dwarves stood firm, forming a steel bulwark and clutching brutal hammers.

"Whoa."

"C-Captain. Our best hope is to run—"

"Why in hell are those bastards on the left wing?"

At that bloodcurdling sight, the morale of the Sicilian right-wing forces withered.

"Loose!"

Thrum-thrum-thrum!

At Eugene's command, the sound of six hundred bowstrings snapping rang out, and a pitch-black rain of arrows poured down.

Orders to raise shields immediately erupted from all sides.

Fweeeee—

The death god's chord, wrought by countless arrows tearing across the sky.

"Eek!"

"What are you doing? I said keep walking with your shields raised! If you stop here, you'll do nothing but eat arrows!"

The mercenary captains bellowed at the top of their lungs, but their men halted their advance and shrank back with all their might.

Fweeeeeee—

For the sound of tearing air grew ever more savage the closer the arrows came, and it was far too terrifying.

"Aaaagh!"

"Aaaagh!"

The sounds of flesh being rent burst forth, and bleeding soldiers collapsed everywhere. They had shielded themselves from the sky as best they could, but it meant little.

For the arrows loosed from the dark elves' powerful bows easily pierced right through a flimsy wooden shield.

Only shields reinforced with iron or made thick of oak could wholly block them. But few men were wealthy enough to invest that much in a disposable shield.

"Ready archers, loose without waiting!"

Thrum-thrum-thrum!

Along with Eugene's command, a second volley flew in.

"No, fuck, already?"

Entering rapid-fire mode, the Black Hand archers could rain down arrows with a speed no human archer could rival.

"Oh, no—"

"Ghh..."

Those whose hands or wrists had been pinned together with their shields by arrows shakily, painfully raised their arms.

Onto them, six hundred arrows poured down, and corpses thudded and crumpled from every direction.

The situation was equally dire for the cavalry. Arrows loosed with a precise calculation of the riders' advance paths pierced the foreheads of horses and tore into their thighs.

Neighhh!

Warhorses collapsed and unhorsed knights were sent tumbling in every direction.

"Good! They can't shoot arrows anymore now!"

"It's almost over—"

Thud!

Smack!

Those who barely reached the dwarven shield wall were struck in the face by stones and toppled over.

They were portable miniature battle towers crafted by dwarven masters. Cassandra and her warrior women stood atop them, slinging stones.

"Wait, that's not what we had them made for."

"Captain Rampage. Those bastards can't even get close to us at all, can they?"

"...It is still early in the battle."

The dwarven warriors stood as stolid as mountains, but Eugene could see it. Behind the cover of their shields, their hidden feet were restlessly tapping the ground.

"No, I mean, why did it have to be the left wing!"

"It takes two hands to make a clap!"

Had they been placed on the right wing, they would have been merrily undergoing human demolition amidst the enemy by now.

But placed as they were on the left wing, they could not sally forth first. Their role was strictly to receive the enemy's assault and support the center.

Yet the battle did not flow to the expeditionary force's advantage alone.

The expeditionary mercenaries and knights, riding high on momentum as they routed the Sicilian right wing, suddenly met with catastrophe.

Eastern warriors, their skin color visibly different at a glance, donned full-body lamellar armor, hefted two-handed swords, and charged in unison.

"Immortals!"

"It's the Immortals!"

By the time a mercenary who recognized their banner cried out, the Eastern infantry knight order had begun to rip the expeditionary force's right wing to shreds.

Slash!

An Immortal, easily standing one hundred ninety centimeters tall, swung his two-handed sword, and an expeditionary warrior was cleaved diagonally from shoulder to ribs.

It was the captain of the Black Dog Mercenary Corps, who had been rampaging without fear. He could not withstand four exchanges before becoming a corpse.

"The Caliph watches over us!"

As he raised his great blood-soaked sword with one hand, a tide of huge two-handed swordsmen surged in behind him.

That ferocious momentum instantly reversed the mood on the right flank.

When a portion of the Holy War Knight Order in the center broke away to support them, Count Sicily smiled a smile of satisfaction.

"Now! Knights, charge!"

The suddenly encircled right wing of the expeditionary force began to be pounded from all sides and shattered, and the center, with its ranks thrown into disarray, quickly grew imperiled.

"To the man who captures the standard of the Holy War Knight Order, I shall grant a barony!"

At the count's words, knights gathered from every quarter rushed in, their eyes bloodshot.

The holy knights fought courageously, but began to be pushed back by Count Sicily, who had even gathered wanted brigand-knights for the battle.

"We can't just leave it like this."

Clicking his tongue, Eugene gripped his flail. He could not see the situation on the right wing, but he could confirm that the center was being driven back.

"Haind. I entrust command of this place to you."

"Y-Yes, sir! Hiccup!"

Suddenly given command over troops on the scale of a great lord, Haind answered, biting his tongue. Eugene raised a thumb to him in a gesture of trust, then led his cavalry out.

* * *

"Win just this one battle, and the peninsula will be ownerless land for decades! I will see to it that you can plunder to your hearts' content!"

As the tide of battle moved more favorably than he had expected, Count Sicily cried out in exultation.

Before he knew it, his speech had changed to resemble a pirate chief's more than a nobleman's. It seemed all the restraint and endurance he had held in had burst forth at once.

"Hahaha! Is that a promise?!"

"Charge! Charge! Trample them all to—"

Thud!

A Sicilian noble who had been shouting, stained by greed, suddenly floated into the air and flew across the sky.

A spear that had pierced clean through his right arm, chest, and left arm bore his corpse and tumbled to a place some five meters away.

End

ⓒ Gusojae#1wecx