Chapter 156: The Thousand-Year Grand Plan (5)
Chapter 156: The Thousand-Year Grand Plan (5)
As Eugene's hand rose to the axe handle, the dwarves watched with bated breath.
- We're making it because the Castle Lord ordered it, but it still doesn't sit right with me.
- This wasn't meant to be a weapon for men in the first place.
The dwarves had heard tell of Eugene's might from stories, but they had never seen it with their own eyes. So throughout the work, they couldn't shake the suspicion that it was merely a display piece — a weapon to hang among the trophies.
As smiths of immense skill and pride, they loathed the thought of crafting mere ornaments. They wanted to forge a great weapon destined to carve its place in history on the battlefield.
'Cute, despite how they look.'
The way they all clenched their thick hands into little circles and clasped them to their chests called to mind a gathering of teddy bears.
Eugene put strength into his grip, and the enormous axe blade rose up effortlessly. A chorus of exclamations rose from the master smiths.
"What did I tell you, you lot? Our Castle Lord is the one who beat down the very monster that used to swing this thing in a contest of strength."
Apparently having been quite hounded by his subordinates, Walker beamed and straightened his shoulders.
'It's heavy.'
For the first time, Eugene registered a sense of weight. He did not mean physical mass.
The instant he gripped the axe, a destructive instinct surged and roiled. The wrath and battle-lust pent up within the axe blade over long ages came crawling up through his grasp.
'Swing me against the living.'
'Cleave flesh and scatter blood.'
It whispered into Eugene's soul that doing so would make it lighter still.
Clench.
'Begone!'
Eugene thundered within his mind, seizing his grip all the harder. The presence that had sought to encroach upon him scrambled and fled back into the axe — like a waterfall crashing down into a pool of black ink.
"Is something the matter?"
At Eugene's grave expression, Walker asked.
"No, nothing."
He swung the axe once lengthwise, once crosswise, and the air itself gave a tearing shriek. At that fearsome destructive force, the dwarves unconsciously retreated a step.
"Truly, the master matches the warhorse."
"If he charges on horseback swinging that..."
The older dwarves with warrior backgrounds looked as though they yearned to return to active duty. Even if it meant their deaths, they would die resentful if they could not see this axe in action on the battlefield.
"The identity of this metal remains unknown?"
"We beg your pardon. We've handled all sorts of things, but we can't make heads or tails of it. Even the witches and Marbas-nim shook their heads."
"Observe this."
Eugene angled the axe upward at a slant.
The axe blade was large enough that Varda could comfortably have lain across it in place of a bed. She was quite susceptible to the heat, so she would certainly find it cool and pleasing.
"Is it not remarkable? The axe blade does not bend at all."
"Indeed. No matter how hard a metal, when it is this large and long, it is normal for it to bow under its own weight."
"And it is no hollow structure but a solid forged blade at that."
"We were curious about that as well, so we tested it by loading weights atop the axe blade..."
The smiths chattered animatedly. It was the first time they had encountered a lord who discussed the engineering properties of metals.
They had dealt only with men who haggled prices down or found fault with deadlines and quality, so this was simply a novelty.
"Given the chance, I would dearly like to bring it to the Dwarf Underground Kingdom."
"There won't be anyone there who knows either. We've ruled out mithril, orichalcum, adamantium, and meteorite iron."
"That's enough idle talk."
Walker, having silenced his subordinates' chatter, approached Eugene.
"Would you grant this metal a name?"
"Castle Lor— Gah!"
One old dwarf cried out as a comrade crushed his foot and clapped a hand over his mouth. He had tried to step forward, greedy to name the newly discovered metal, only to be suppressed.
"As a rule, the one who first discovers it holds the right to name it. Do you perhaps have something in mind, my lord?"
"Hm."
Eugene mused a moment, then spoke.
"Let us call it Unobtanium."
"What is the meaning?"
The dwarves wore confused faces at the unfamiliar, mechanical-sounding compound word.
"It means a substance that does not exist in our world."
"Concise and clear, yet with an academic ring. I like it."
Walker, a scholastic smith who had graduated from the University of Metals, nodded with evident approval.
"Mmph mmph!"
Only the dwarf whose mouth was still clamped shut by his fellows shed a furtive tear as though he might die of regret.
"But, Castle Lord, you already have several fine weapons. I wonder how many chances this fellow will really get."
"That's a matter no one can know."
"Pardon?"
"Last Autumn, the flail, the custom composite bow. They are man-made weapons, made by men's hands."
Eugene hefted the axe this way and that, gauging its center of mass.
"They are tools forged for waging war against foes within the realm of men. But you never know — we may yet face enemies beyond that measure, no?"
As poison must be subdued with poison, so too must a monster be subdued with a monster. And as the number of family under his charge grew, the more insurance, the better.
* * *
"I don't know if this is the right thing."
The young dark elf merchant murmured.
It was no simple thing for a dark elf, whose very identity was that of a nomadic warrior, to live as a pure merchant.
It was routine to receive contempt and mockery from their own kin as weaklings, and in civilized society, they had to endure the abuses heaped upon a minority that possessed no armed strength.
Even looking upon the approaching port of Kitania, it was not its beauty that first came to mind, but the entrenched cliques and scorn that awaited them there.
"We cannot live like rats forever, can we?"
"Next year, when the war of Roman intensifies in earnest, it will be folk like us who are the first to be picked clean."
A group lacking in martial strength leading an itinerant life was a hardship both bitter and miserable.
They had scraped out a living, struggling desperately in Roman, which had been, at least, peaceful and stable. But even that had now reached its limit.
Their chieftain had made a decision, and now it was time to stake everything on that gamble.
"It's truly good to see you! I've heard a great deal from Chieftain Alessa."
That was why they were utterly stunned when the master of the city himself welcomed them in person at the harbor.
"If anyone tries to oppress you — unjustly, or indeed, even justly — simply say the word. I'll make those fellows taste a thorough lesson in what proper favoritism looks like."
Eugene had taken a great liking to the dark elves aboard the ship from his very first impression.
Their attire was purely that of merchants, not a single sword at the hip. The sight of them wearing monocle spectacles or carrying small abacuses, with pencils and paper tied at their waists, was profoundly reassuring.
For the enemy Eugene had to fight now was not monsters or mercenaries, but numbers.
"W-what might we do to assist you?"
Eugene threw an arm around the shoulders of one of the dark elf merchants and pointed toward the city.
"I'll put the sword-hilt in your hands, so I'd ask you to dance a sword-dance for me. I've been hard at work clearing the weeds, but it turns out the roots run far too deep. There are many commercial laws that need tending to as well."
"Oh!"
The tension utterly vanished from the faces of the dark elf merchants, replaced by an eager glee.
And so began a sweeping reform of the city — an overhaul that could not be resolved by force of arms alone.
"The incoming and outgoing shipments don't match the accounts. There must be a hidden second set of books."
Eugene's new family members had caught the stench of rot after merely skimming through the cargo volume records and income and expenditure ledgers.
"W-what slander is this! A pack of wandering merchants dares to try and slander whom..."
"Shut your mouth."
"..."
The city magnate who had bristled to protest was curbed by a single word from Eugene.
Under ordinary circumstances, this was the sort of petty merchant he could have expelled with a single gesture, summoning the guard. But the lord stood beside him with arms crossed, and the warriors behind him glaring and glowering, and they were far too terrifying.
"The goods unloaded at Block B, Warehouse 3 are suspicious. According to the records, these are goods that should not be stored long-term, yet there has been no release log for a month already."
"You heard him. Go and break them all open."
At Eugene's command, a unit of his subordinates snapped a military salute and ran off.
Crack!
The mercenaries, tools in hand, began wantonly prying apart the boxes in the warehouse, and a cry of lamentation arose.
"My lords! What in the world is the meaning of this?"
"Stand aside. Before I smash your skull in too."
"Oh, nooo!"
The gaunt warehouse keeper tried to intervene, but the mercenaries roughly shoved him aside.
"What sort of outrage is this? Do you know who looks after this place?"
The foul-faced man beside the warehouse keeper spoke threateningly. He was obviously a thug.
"Who?"
"Ha! Are you bumpkins who don't even know Lord Padric's name?"
Right on cue, a squad of ten or so city guards came running up.
"Guard captain! Look at how these ruffians wreak havoc! Can folk like us, powerless traders, even make a living under such abuse?"
As if he had not even heard the thug's exaggerated wailing, the guard captain's face was set rigidly.
It was a sight — the guardsmen who normally strutted about fearing neither god nor man now treading cautiously. The thug realized something had gone wrong, but it was already too late.
Bang!
"Tobacco? The ledger says salt."
"Idiot, this isn't ordinary tobacco—it's rolled marijuana!"
The mercenaries whistled and cheered. They had hit pay dirt.
"Here now, guard captain."
"Y-yes, sir. What is it?"
"Who is this Padric? That bastard said he's the one backing this place behind the scenes."
"..."
When the mercenary pointed a crowbar at the thug, the guard captain's face contorted into a demonic mask.
'That imbecile bastard!'
The warehouse keeper and the thug realized the situation had turned utterly fucked, and their faces drained white.
And so the whole city of Kitania was once again turned upside down.
The ones rounded up in the organized-crime sweep were the flagrant scum who operated openly above the surface. Now it was time to root out the mudfish moving secretly beneath it.
Those who had disguised themselves as trading companies on the boundary between legal and illegal were thoroughly ransacked, dragged in, and hurled to the ground.
"You do work awfully hard."
Rex was left agape at that industrious purification work.
"I imagine someone who spent his whole life walking on eggshells living as underling would want to swing a hilt around once he finally got hold of one. It's not as if they're fools drunk on power crossing the line, though."
Eugene could never tolerate a city that ran on connections, bribes, and the attitude that anything was fine as long as it worked out.
With the help of the new family members, he tore apart and rebuilt the city's shoddy administrative system.
Multiple inefficient administrative systems were reorganized, and the tax laws that had been skewed to let certain factions reap excessive profits were all normalized.
In the process a few were executed and many more banished or imprisoned, but no one dared voice a complaint. Everyone was too busy bowing their heads and watching their step.
* * *
Day by day the city underwent cataclysmic changes, but the lord's manor remained at peace. The serving men and women working there quickly grew accustomed to the new conquerors.
"My lady. Today I've opened the Remoa perfume oil. I'm sure you'll be pleased."
The handmaidens attending Varda in particular adapted swiftly.
The days when they had treated the prostitutes Nolt and his lot dragged in as their mistresses and endured their abuse had been dreadful. But now they served a young lady of such dignity, so satisfaction was inevitable.
"Remoa is a precious item obtainable only from the Eastern Empire, is it not?"
"The merchant caravan that departed for there has returned. Ordinarily it's something one could only acquire with luck at an auction house. But since we'd spoken to the merchant guild in advance, one was set aside for your use, my lady."
"That must have been a disservice to others who were waiting."
"Oh, please. You mustn't be treated the same as everyone else, my lady."
The beaming handmaidens undressed Varda. Her dazzling bare figure shimmered, catching the moisture amid the bathhouse steam.
The handmaidens carefully wound up Varda's silken golden hair. They brought out fresh flower petals and herbs and scattered them into the steaming tub.
"Your skin is so very fine."
"I'm envious. Not a single blemish, so smooth."
Three pairs of palms bearing different skin tones carefully washed and massaged the elf maiden's body.
Once her bath was finished, Varda donned a nightgown and stepped out onto the balcony. She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling the cool sea breeze.
"Magnificent."
Before her sprawled the panorama of a storied city, in the distance the vast expanse of blue sea, and behind her the majestic volcano.
It was truly a breathtaking sight. She never tired of looking at it, no matter how many times she saw it. That was also, perhaps, because she now savored the view not as a passing guest but as its mistress.
-All these landscapes belong to Varda-nim as well. If any building mars the scenery, do say the word.
-And what would happen if I did?
-Before long, wouldn't that building simply vanish?
-I shall never say a word!
It was a frightening jest, but honestly she had felt a thrill of happiness at that tyrannical favor.
'I thought I would never meet another who could love me as greatly as Grace.'
Yet Eugene cherished her no less than Grace had.
-Guard against arrogance and pleasure, my lovely girl. You must harmoniously cultivate your noble blood and your compassion.
Unlike Grace, who always taught restraint, Eugene demanded she refrain from nothing. Rather, he offered her a variety of indulgences.
Once, saying 'I've finally succeeded!', he had even treated her to something called fruit shaved-ice. What was more, in a sauna.
-A food made of ice, in a sauna?
-Is not enjoying the cold in a hot place the true charm of it? Does it not suit your palate?
-That is not it. It is truly delicious. It merely seemed so utterly extravagant...
-What else have I worked so hard for, running about to amass wealth, raise an army, and gain territory? To enjoy the things one cannot enjoy living an ordinary life, of course. Now, say ah~
-I, I can feed myself!
-Then I shall say ah~
-...
The Eugene Varda observed was a valorous knight, a pragmatic and diligent lord. But he also possessed, unexpectedly, a side prone to luxury.
She did not dislike that he always offered such things to her and sought to share them together. Grace might scold her, saying she was being spoiled by bad influences, but still.
* * *
When winter arrived, the world came to a halt within the cold. The wars being waged everywhere, and the diligently working farmers alike, emerged from their nests no longer.
The world was in chaos, so once the seasons turned again steel and sweat and blood would once more be spilled all about. But for the moment, it was a time of peaceful rest and replenishment.
Seizing upon this brief tranquility, every soul in the Wandering Castle had a topic that rose to mind.
"A monarch ought to have a household. He should find himself a spouse without delay."
"I agree. I feel it at every banquet: having only one person at the head table looks unbalanced. Two sitting there together gives the whole thing stability. When the Castle Lord leaves his seat to make the rounds and offer toasts, someone has to remain at the head table, wouldn't you say?"
"I've wandered all across Roman, but I've never seen anything larger or more magnificent than the Wandering Castle. A place like this simply must have a lady of the house to function properly. There are flaws that only catch her ladyship's eye, blemishes only polished away by her ladyship's touch."
Once everything started falling into place, the retainers grew greedier. They needed a presence who could stand in Eugene's stead, wielding his authority and symbolism when he was absent.
They desired someone who could step forward in sorts of troubles or diplomacy that were difficult for Eugene to engage in directly.
Chieftain Alessa and the elders inwardly pushed for Cassandra but did not carelessly broach the subject.
"You mean Lady Cassandra? She would certainly perform the role of lady of the house splendidly. She'd have the lower ranks disciplined with an iron fist."
"But with Varda-nim here, how could we..."
For even the members of the Black Hand Tribe had someone they tentatively considered a candidate.
Varda's influence within the castle, from the days when Eugene had been a mere knight, was immense.
The wisdom and mage's power acknowledged of the Sage of the Emerald Forest, her bewitching beauty that charmed even kings, and her connections within noble society.
And Eugene, for his part, always displayed a singular respect and intimacy toward his foremost advisor.
There was no way the parties involved were unaware of their retainers' subtle prodding. And it was Varda, more than Eugene, who dwelt upon it the more.
'It has been but a single year.'
Varda was confident in herself, but her knight had grown with such breathtaking speed.
The youthful knight who had once come seeking her in the Emerald Forest. That young knight, on whom a boy's traces still faintly lingered, had become one of the most watched next-generation lords.
* * *
"Forgive me. I cannot yet accept your heart."
"...I beg your pardon?"
And so when Eugene proposed on a night lit by a beautiful moon, Varda declined.
'How endearing.'
The ever-composed knight wore a dumbfounded expression for the first time. As though he had struck his own head with the flail he wielded.
She could not savor that face for long. A misunderstanding would be troublesome.
"It is absolutely not that I dislike your courtship. For never in my life have I had a day as happy as this."
Varda took Eugene's hand and drew it to her chest.
The sensation of his hand, ever valiant before any monster, trembling faintly. That brought Varda an even greater pleasure. As if her brain were melting away.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Varda's heart pounded like a battlefield drum, giving Eugene reassurance and joy. And an equal measure of puzzlement.
"Then why do you refuse..."
"I need time."
"Is there some matter at hand?"
Eugene's face hardened. He worried Varda might be in some plight unbeknownst to him.
"Whatever my power can reach, I shall help. Just say the word."
A moment later, the story that came from Varda's lips was something Eugene had never imagined.
"One cannot go to her marriage empty-handed, can she? You have gifted me so very much, so I too must bring a fitting dowry."
"You need not concern yourself with such things."
The tension draining from him at once, Eugene laughed helplessly.
"I must be concerned. Marriage is the rite by which a man and a woman steel their resolve before setting out onto the battlefield that is the world. One cannot march onto a battlefield without arms."
"Love alone is enough for me. Just come as you are. I shall without fail make you happy."
At the sweet whisper, the elf maiden's ears reddened with joy and melted away limply. Yet still Varda stubbornly shook her head.
"No. For a promising lord such as you, even your marriage is a powerful opportunity and instrument."
The teachings Grace had sternly instilled since childhood. They lashed Varda's wavering heart back into order.
"It simply will not do to squander it. You must obtain something that befits your marriage. Only then will discipline be established among your retainers. I must not set a poor precedent merely for my own satisfaction."
"I understand what you're saying, but..."
Eugene was baffled. Did Varda possess anything that could match what he now had?
"Something I ought rightly to inherit. Something I have long refrained from seeking. It seems the time has come for me to go and claim it."
Varda gazed northward. Her golden eyes burned with a strong will even amid the night's darkness. Like those of a raptor fixing upon its prey.
Eugene felt a tingling at his fingertips.
'Why does Varda carry a sword from the age of Rui Amor?'
'Why was she under the protection of a singular dryad called Grace?'
'Why does she possess the innate gift to wield such mighty forest magic?'
Questions he had always wondered about but had known he must not ask up until now.
For he sensed this was the moment the tacit rule existing between man and woman was to be broken.
End
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