Chapter 155: The Thousand-Year Grand Plan (4)
Chapter 155: The Thousand-Year Grand Plan (4)
Rex and Cassandra possessed sharp minds. They immediately grasped what Eugene was alluding to with his mention of the nomadic empire.
Had anyone else spoken of this, they would have scoffed. They were, after all, a warrior clan of renowned fame who had vanquished every threat they had ever faced.
But when the speaker was Eugene, they could not dismiss it lightly. As both a monarch and a mage, he was a man of deeper inner depths than anyone they knew.
"Surely not a prophecy?"
Cassandra asked.
This was a man who wielded the mystery of the Wandering Castle, a power transcending mortal comprehension. If anyone could see something special, it might well be him.
"I have no gift of prophecy. This is merely a prediction. But it is a prediction infinitely close to fate — something that peoples who bear the identity of nomads will inevitably face someday."
"You are not the sort to jest about such matters, so you must be certain of it."
As a sub-chieftain of his clan, Rex took it seriously. He called to mind every relationship his family had forged from the past to the present, pondering what might threaten them.
"Rex. It is a matter of the very distant future. It has nothing to do with the histories or grudges you are thinking of now."
Eugene smiled and waved a hand dismissively.
"Fortunately, there is a great deal of time to prepare. This is an age ruled by sword, magic, and warhorse now, and it will take an exceedingly long time for that to end. Besides, the pace of technological advancement here is bound to be slow."
The way of life of the Black Hand Tribe would remain viable for a long time to come.
The only thing that needed to be firmly planted was that they must not grow complacent in this way for a thousand or even two thousand years. That alone was enough.
The remaining time was more than abundant, so simply setting the direction properly would suffice.
* * *
After seizing control of Kitania, Eugene kept a close watch on the island's situation. As he invited merchant companies traveling to and fro and listened to their accounts, news of the Apostolic Council reached him.
"They took Connel Castle?"
"Yes. A portion of the bribed vassal corps persuaded the countess to surrender. Ah, or should I say the former countess now?"
"Well, with her remaining troops and provisions both barely a handful, her husband captured, and her son-in-law slain in battle, it would be bleak indeed."
"Exactly. With only herself and her two daughters left, what choice could she possibly make? She would be terrified and desperate to preserve their lives at the very least. The Apostolic Council is well-practiced in persuading people in that position."
The island's main army had suffered a crushing defeat, and the former count's family that had served as its center of gravity was gone.
Yet the lords who had escaped, those who had been responsible for rear support or reconnaissance, remained alive. The houses that had made excuses to ignore the call to muster, or the neutral factions, were also still intact.
As a result, the island of Sicily found itself in a situation akin to the Eastern Holy Land of ages past. It had become a battleground of wild dogs who had fallen upon it, coveting wealth and territory under the name of a holy war.
"Chaos reigns on all sides, yet the cities under Your Lordship's protection remain so tranquil — truly, it is a blessing of the gods."
Eugene had occupied the cities with ample wealth and supplies, leading a loyal army. All his subordinates focused with one mind on minimizing trouble.
But the mercenary captains and nobles who had joined the expedition out of ambition to become lords were in a different situation.
"I hear the newly installed lords are already raising passage tolls. Squeezing them this hard will provoke fierce resentment. Though they've won, it is still little different from enemy territory."
"You know it cannot be helped, don't you? With Sicilian nobles at their front, creditors at their backs, and subordinates clawing up from below."
The mercenary captains and nobles had scraped together troops, supplies, and even their very souls to cross the sea.
Naturally, even after victory, they could not help but be restless, living each day as if treading on thin ice. They had debts to pay, and subordinates who had grown too large to control to placate.
It was inevitable that they faced stiff resistance on all sides. Among them were those who appealed to Eugene for rescue.
"Please, I beg you, help us!"
"Why should I?"
Eugene, who had been strolling through the garden of the lord's manor in Kitania with Homi, looked at the envoy with bewilderment.
"Are we not friends who swore oaths for each other's success before the expedition, and comrades who roamed the battlefield together? By that bond of friendship, I beseech you..."
"Huh?"
Eugene hurriedly searched his memory.
The noble pleading for help was someone he had exchanged greetings with exactly once, at the banquet before the expedition. He seemed to recall the man being nearby when someone proposed a toast and they all raised their cups together.
"Does sharing a single cup from a bit of a distance away make us sworn friends? We never even shook hands."
As for battle, that noble had been assigned to the reserve force in the rear before being sent to support the right wing. He would not even have crossed paths with Eugene's army.
"We joined the righteous holy war under the guidance of the gods. Does that alone not make us friends, and comrades as well?"
"Exaggeration has its limits. I thought for a moment I'd come down with amnesia."
Eugene had taken care to distinguish and manage the nobles who required his attention. For an instant he wondered if he had overlooked someone, but it was a letdown.
"I beg of you, Sir Eugene! Without your aid... haak!"
The envoy, who had been about to appeal to sentiment, sucked in a breath. The snow leopard beastkin maiden was staring him down coldly.
"Not Sir — Your Excellency."
What was even more astonishing was that her voice was so exceedingly beautiful. It was impossible to believe it came from vocal cords of flesh and membrane.
Could the timbre of a voice passing through the mouth of a water jar borne upon a goddess's shoulder sound like this?
But it twisted wretchedly the moment Homi attempted to utter another word.
"Now... Your... Excellency... you... should..."
As if the single word permitted to her had not been enough, when she tried to force out more, a brake was applied. The human language vanished, and the growl of a beast crept in.
Homi clutched her throat resentfully, the throat that would not obey her will. At the tips of her elegant fingers, sharp claws extended long in frustration.
"That is enough, child."
From behind, Eugene tenderly drew Homi into his embrace.
"I'm glad you care, but that was the one precious word allowed to you each day. Should you really waste it like this?"
"..."
Whatever Homi had been about to say, she hastily clamped her mouth shut as a beast's breath slipped out toward Eugene's face.
Instead, with a sorrowful expression, she rubbed her cheek against her lord's. Standing on tiptoe, her long, luxuriant tail climbed up Eugene's chest and coiled around his neck.
"Return now. And do not make me any more displeased than this."
Bowing his head deeply under Eugene's beast-like gaze, the envoy retreated as if fleeing.
* * *
When autumn had but little time remaining, Eugene led his army out of the city of Kitania.
Messana had been the first city to surrender and was a key hub through which the Peninsula's religious orders constantly came and went from the island. It remained stable without Eugene needing to intervene much.
With even the most chaotic Kitania now firmly under control, only Phileremo remained. They had courteously expressed their intent to surrender, but Eugene needed to visit at least once.
As the journey led from the island's eastern city to its northwestern one, it was practically a traverse of the entire island.
"My master sends greetings of welcome. He has long said he wished to host you at least once — would you kindly pay a visit?"
The lords of the domains along the way vied with one another to invite Eugene. This was because he had circulated the following letter to every noble on the island.
'I desire nothing beyond the three cities bestowed upon me by the gods. With the judgment of the former count, who committed nothing but wickedness, now complete, my duty is done. I wish only to govern the places granted to me in peace.'
The renown Eugene had built up until now — fighting Hall Wars on behalf of the weak, vanquishing countless villains and monsters — lent strong credibility to this letter.
To be sure, there were still many nobles who regarded him with suspicion, but the mood had reached a point where at least 'inviting him over for a conversation' was considered possible.
"I gladly accept."
And to every house he visited, Eugene bestowed precious gifts.
"This is that famous composite bow of the Black Hand Tribe!"
To a noble fond of hunting, he gave a magic mounted bow crafted by the dark elves.
"I-if I truly consume this..."
A middle-aged noble who had briefly glanced around leaned close, hand at his mouth, and whispered.
"Will it really work?"
"It is a medicine personally compounded by the Sage of the Emerald Forest. It is quite popular even among the residents of the castle. I shall vouch for its effects."
"Ohhh! To think Varda-nim made it!"
The middle-aged noble clasped Eugene's hand tightly, his face filled with emotion. The Sage of the Emerald Forest was a revered mage whom even the king of a nation yearned to meet at least once.
"I hear you are soon to take a new bride. What do you think of this as a wedding gift?"
"Th-this is monster leather, is it not?"
Even at a single glance, it was an immensely luxurious lady's bag. The young lord's eyes went round.
"It is a bag made of lamia snake leather. A dark elf weaver handled the tanning and cutting, and a dwarf craftsman carved the buckles, ornaments, and patterns."
"Good heavens! This is no mere thing one can buy with money!"
The materials were one thing, but it was a masterpiece born of collaboration between those possessing the finest skills in each of their respective fields.
"How on earth did those two manage to work in the same place?"
"They bicker constantly, but somehow they make it work."
It was a cooperative craft that could only have come into being under Eugene's command.
"When did you even investigate all of this?"
Even Marbas, who accompanied him, was overwhelmed by the barrage of gifts.
To grasp the circumstances of every house along the travel route and prepare gifts their heads of family would delight in — it was something no lord short of exceptionally meticulous could manage.
"I met merchants every single day while stabilizing Kitania. Every last one of them, whether they came from the south, the west, or worked as camp merchants in the civil-war zones."
Merchants striding all across the island were also the finest sources of information. And in this era, information was both weapon and coin. Even trivial details weren't given away freely. But when the one doing the asking was Eugene, the situation changed.
Was he not the strongest power on the present island of Sicily and the master of its key port cities? They all eagerly spilled information, hoping to catch his eye even once more.
Not that the journey was entirely peaceful.
"Ahead, there is a mercenary company blocking the bridge. Their number is about two hundred."
They were a specialty of lands thrown into chaos after great battles ended — mercenaries collecting tolls. Depending on the situation, they could turn into an outright bandit gang at any moment.
Of course, none in their right mind would ever dare demand a toll from Eugene's army.
Indeed, by the time his army arrived before the bridge, the mercenary company was already fleeing far into the distance. It seemed they were afraid of even coming into sight.
"There is a small-scale engagement ahead."
Occasionally, they passed by skirmishes between forces that had crossed from the Apen Peninsula and the island's native factions.
"Cease battle!"
"All of you, fall back!"
The moment the two sides saw Eugene's banner, they halted their fighting and watched each other warily.
Normally, in such a situation, the unspoken rule was that the newly arrived army would simply detour around on its own. But when the disparity in strength was this severe, such conventions could be ignored without consequence.
An army of perhaps three hundred combined from both sides would be trampled like rotten straw if Eugene's forces charged in.
"..."
"..."
The leaders of both sides lost their nerve at the sight of an army where even the lowliest soldiers were clad in gear better than their own.
Eugene intended to impress upon every corner of the island just how formidable his military might was as he crossed it. That way, no fools would think of playing tricks on his cities.
Arrogantly cutting straight through the middle of someone else's battlefield right now was also part of that design.
"Do you not intend to mediate?"
"Not in the slightest. Meddling in others' fights only ever brings headaches."
But that was as far as it went. He had no intention of expanding his troubles beyond the objectives he had first set.
Thus, having received even Phileremo's submission, Eugene fully secured the cities allotted to him into his grasp.
* * *
Requests came flying in without end from the nobles who had taken part in the expedition — 'such-and-such a place looks weak, shall we not strike it together?'
"It reminds me of the time when I used to stay in Bonyard. They sent letters from all over back then too, wanting to hunt monsters on the cheap."
"Though they are far more courteous now than they were then, are they not?"
Varda was knitting upon a sofa a little distance away. It was a muffler to wrap around Eugene's neck in the coming winter.
Sway, sway.
The scrunchie at the tip of Homi's swaying tail was also one of Varda's creations.
"Yes. Back then, the gist of it was that they would make me a vassal if I fought for them, or something of that sort. This time it's the opposite. They say they'll pledge their loyalty, so they beg for help."
"Heh."
Homi, who had been sorting letters beside Eugene, laughed as though struck by how much times had changed.
When her sharply extended index claw swept past, the sealing wax split cleanly in two. Eugene, who had a fondness for cleanliness, was pleased to be able to extract the letter without any crumbs.
Ever since accepting the Heart of the Forest, Homi had grown increasingly adept at partially reinforcing or mutating her body.
Thanks to that, these days she didn't even use a razor when giving Eugene his shave. The only requisites were her claws, lather, and affection.
"A pleasing letter came as well."
Eugene handed a letter written in an earnest script upon parchment to Varda. She stopped her knitting and read it aloud in a lovely voice.
"Honorable lord. We give thanks for your might and mercy. We, too, shall march beneath the banner of Meyer, following the Black Hand Tribe. May the children of the moon and forest prosper. May blessings fall upon the great knight who guides them."
Varda's voice had been tinged ever more with amusement toward the end. When she finished reading and lowered the letter, her golden eyes, which had been hidden, sparkled with interest and delight.
"Chieftain Alessa has lately told me she receives frequent requests from other dark elf tribes. They ask if she can act as a bridge to me."
"And she readily accepted, I take it?"
"I can trust a recommendation from Chieftain Alessa. As it happens, I need people who can look after the cities when I am away."
The dark elf tribe Eugene had decided to newly take in was not a warrior band. These were folk who lived as a merchant collective within human society.
"Although their trading skills are superb, they had suffered much heartache for lack of warriors' strength. Having their prices beaten down was routine, and being stood up was common too."
"Stood up?"
"...Ah, I mean they were swindled out of their money."
Eugene grinned as he took the letter back from Varda.
"They will face no more of that. For they shall receive fair treatment and draw a future together with us."
Eugene was utterly fed up with the city administration systems that were running like utter chaos. But when it came to sweeping reform, he could not even begin to grasp where to start.
-We apologize. Everyone here has a rock head that can only swing a sword or hammer metal...
No matter how broad Eugene's knowledge was, he was a soldier at heart, and his subordinates were likewise all warriors or craftsmen. The merchants belonging to the Black Hand Tribe were far too few.
In the midst of that, this letter was nothing short of a lifeline of salvation. Though no doubt the other tribe considered Eugene their own salvation in equal measure.
* * *
Before they knew it, winter had arrived.
"We have at last completed the repairs, Castle Lord! It is an honor to present this magnificent masterpiece to you!"
Walker, the senior smith of the Hammer Brotherhood, came before Eugene bearing the hell axe that Eugene had entrusted to them.
"The honor is mine. It's hard to believe it's the same demonic weapon that once reeked of such wicked energy."
"It was one ordeal after another, I tell you."
The dwarf smiths had painstakingly removed the hellish bones that exuded the evil aura and attached a grip made of dwarven rare metal.
Cleansing the unidentified substances that clung to every part of the axe blade like sea squirts had required countless trials and errors.
"It wouldn't melt even when we put it in the blast furnace, and it wouldn't come off even when we hammered it with diamond chisels. We really suffered."
"Who would have guessed the Tribe's witches would know the solution?"
Even the proud dwarf smiths respectfully addressed those who dealt in mysteries and prophecies as "Lady Witch" without fail.
-This here is a living hell creature. I've seen it in the old books.
-...You must be joking. There exists a thing that survives even being boiled in a blast furnace?
-It's dormant right now. In that state, it forms a hard shell with magic so it can withstand any harsh environment.
-Then what do we do?
-We just have to make it wake from dormancy on its own. Given its size, we'll need to prepare at least ten sheep.
Unlike other races, dwarves formed their societies in places like mountains, mines, and underground.
Being therefore vulnerable to external information and exchange, they had a culture of respecting witches, who read the stars, gave counsel on the future, and possessed superior medical skills.
"We submerged the axe blade in a tank filled with sheep's blood, then scraped it with a ritually treated silver dagger."
"There was also a fellow who nearly lost his fingers."
The dwarves shuddered, recalling the work at the time.
-I told you not to touch it! You blockheaded stubby-legged fool!
-Gah!
The large sea squirt-like thing(?) that had detached from the axe blade was akin to the head of a viper.
Having gorged on blood and awakened, it snapped at empty air with a maw bristling with vicious teeth. The horrified dwarves caused an uproar as they smashed it with hammers.
The hell axe completed in that fashion was somehow unnatural. Not in the sense of being a defective piece, but because it exuded an air that defied the laws of nature. Though given its provenance, that was nothing strange.
"This feels less like an axe and more like a guillotine for dragons."
True to a weapon once swung by a five-meter-tall demon ghoul, the sheer monstrous size of the axe blade was enough to draw hollow laughter rather than admiration.
He did not know who the enemies destined to be cleaved by it would be, but the results would surely be more gruesome than the flail. For the first time since becoming a knight, Eugene felt a twinge of pity for his foes.
End
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