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A grand banquet was held to celebrate the slaying of the Hydra. It was not limited to the Water City or the affected regions. It was a festival in which all of Sicily joined.
"Great-grandfather's foe is dead at last! I must see that damned creature's corpse!"
A knightly house came from a place far removed from the Hydra's hunting grounds.
"How much ready coin can our trading company muster? We must scrape together every last bit and depart at once. The competition will be swarming in like flies."
Local merchant companies and foreign trading houses that had stopped there to do business scrambled to purchase Hydra parts.
"The monster that tormented the island fell to a human axe. The Apostolic Council proclaims that all human sacrifice in Sicily has been eradicated. Disasters that threaten humanity must be faced with steel and courage, as this one was. The blood spilled should be that of warriors, not innocent living sacrifices."
Clerics of the Apostolic Council also celebrated the slaying, circulating official notices across the entire island.
They intended to use this occasion to root out the island's indigenous culture of offering human sacrifices whenever a Hydra appeared or a natural disaster struck.
'Was this what the Apostolic Council was after when it offered so many Talents for the commission?'
The orders had a hidden purpose beyond hunting monsters and expanding their influence as conquerors.
The point was that this purpose was not material, unlike other nobles who might say "I want more territory!" or "Hand over the iron mine!"
The fact that they aimed to spread the humanitarian value of abolishing human sacrifice was, indeed, fitting for a religious organization.
Thud-thud-thud!
"Might. If you're weary, say so at any time. We can rest before continuing."
Grurr-!
At Eugene's whisper, Might growled as if telling him not to jest.
At present, the two of them had broken away from the main force and were racing at full speed toward the Wandering Castle.
"Papa! Papa! Look over there!"
"Ah, what is it now... W-what is that?"
A group of farmers spotted Eugene and recoiled in terror.
"Hanna! Get down!"
"Grandfather, why? Aaaah!"
A deeply wrinkled old man covered his granddaughter's eyes and forced her to prostrate herself. The other farmers and women screamed and flattened themselves against the earth.
This was not them recognizing Eugene as a nobleman and attempting to show proper respect. Lying prostrate, the old man bellowed with all his might.
"It's the Grim Reaper! Do not meet its eyes, no matter what. They say it reaps your soul!"
The farmers, seeing Eugene racing past at a breakneck pace, had mistaken him for the death god of folklore.
"I apologize for startling you."
Might's sheer bulk, which defied comparison with any ordinary horse.
The Wendigo leather cloak and surcoat, reminiscent of a reaper's robe.
The massive axe, thrust into the special saddle like a banner, radiating a savage presence.
The incredible speed that devoured the land like the wind.
To ignorant farmers, the image was perfectly suited to mistake him for the Grim Reaper.
Might, concentrating solely on the straight-line sprint, already possessed a bearing closer to a wind spirit than a living creature. He tore across the Sicilian earth like a black whirlwind.
Crunch.
Crack.
Pebbles touched by his hooves shattered, and soil exploded upward where he trod.
While the Hydra was being dismantled, Eugene declared he would go alone to the Wandering Castle.
For there was no place more perfect for processing Hydra byproducts — whether via cold storage or preservation reagents — than there.
-You must not go alone, Lord Viscount. Please reconsider.
Haind objected immediately. His principled stance was that an escort must be provided, even if it meant moving more slowly.
-Every minute and second is precious, so I will ride at full speed. Any escort you attach would only be left behind anyway.
-You are no longer a wandering knight, my lord. You are responsible for thousands of soldiers alone, and if we include the city folk, over a hundred thousand souls.
Rex also opposed him, but persuasion was not difficult.
-Do you not wish to possess the highest-quality monster composite bow? Surely you prefer one with a 100% draw weight over 90%.
-Why, of course!
-That is why freezing, refrigeration, and alchemical treatment are urgent. The sooner the muscles and sinews are worked, the better the quality.
-Is it fair to speak in such an underhanded manner?
Whether for weapons or luxury goods, the closer one approached the top specifications, the more astronomical the costs became for even a 1% increase in quality. At the highest tier, it could not be resolved with money at all.
-Sub-Chieftain. The nearest strongpoint from here is the Water City. Their storehouses and alchemy workshops are woefully inadequate. The trophies from this hunt are the greatest treasures in the tribe's history. Should they not be handled in the finest condition possible?
A witch who appeared to be in her early forties defended Eugene.
She was the leader of the medics and a veteran witch. She was the direct disciple of three high witches who had retired after their health deteriorated from overexerting themselves to receive the Prophecy of Destruction.
As theirs was a matriarchal society, even Rex, as sub-chieftain and leader of the army, found it hard to dismiss her authority.
-Rest here quietly. I am busy, so I shall take my leave first.
That was why Eugene was now riding like a courier horse. After running without rest or sleep, he at last reached his destination.
"Castle Lord?!"
"Without an escort, how could you..."
The dwarf guards who watched the castle gate greeted their liege in wide-eyed surprise. What welled up in them was more consternation and fear than gladness.
'Could he have been defeated?'
Given the combination of his sweat-and-dust-caked appearance, his exhausted face, and his breakneck flight, it was a reasonable thought.
"There was not a single fatality, and I took the Hydra's necks myself, one by one. There were seven of them. Spare yourselves needless worry."
"Ah, no, we would never harbor such profane thoughts."
Caught in their inner thoughts, the dwarf guards sweated profusely as they rendered their military salute.
"Well done, Might. Go to the stables and rest easy."
Grurr-.
After kissing Might's cheek, Eugene headed for the audience chamber.
The beast seemed to have missed the Wandering Castle as well. Though he had lived in plenty on Sicilian chicken and tuna, the grass that grew in the magic feed trough remained something special.
"The Castle Lord is here."
The stable keepers noticed even before they saw Might enter.
For the hundreds of warhorses that had been sprawled about at ease suddenly stiffened, their military discipline snapping taut.
Grrrr-.
Hi, hihihing.
Neigh.
The stable's sergeant-at-arms had returned.
* * *
After teleporting the castle to the wasteland near the battlefield, Eugene collapsed into a dead slumber.
It was only natural. He had chased the Hydra with barely any rest after the orc subjugation, and after hunting the beast, he had raced all the way to the Wandering Castle.
"Mmm."
"Are you stirring awake?"
Upon waking, Eugene felt a soft palm stroking his cheek. Even before that, the scent of elven perfume had struck him a beat faster.
"How long did I sleep?"
"A full day has passed. Considering the battle and forced march you endured, even this is likely insufficient."
Jjok.
At the touch of lips upon his cheek, Eugene opened his eyes.
"I welcome your return with all my heart."
Golden eyes like the sun, and golden hair like sunlight, filled his vision.
"I wish you would sleep more."
"Here, my recovery accelerates. I have no injuries, and I already feel my vitality returning."
"Still, you ought to rest your eyes a little longer..."
"I am truly fine."
As Eugene removed Varda's hand from where it rested on his chest, he sensed something strange.
"I do not recall having taken a bath."
Eugene had been changed into clean silk garments.
He was spotless, without a single speck of sweat or dust anywhere on his body. It was not only his cheeks and neck; even his stomach and groin were refreshingly clean.
"You could not properly sleep deeply had you rested in such a filthy state."
When Varda indicated one corner of the room, the dark elf handmaidens bowed their heads deeply.
"They truly labored hard, washing you clean without waking your unconscious self."
"..."
Without realizing it, Eugene lifted his trousers to glance.
The secret garden that had become a magpie's nest from combat and forced march was now trimmed as neatly as a willow tree.
"Why do you do that?"
Unlike Eugene, who bowed his head under a sudden surge of embarrassment, Varda was composed. It was not shameful for one of noble station to entrust one's naked body to handmaidens.
"Indeed, your fatigue is not yet fully gone."
"It has fully passed. Let us go out quickly. Many are surely waiting for me."
Eugene detected the boisterous noise rising from the castle's first floor. Varda's return from Kitania must also have been to oversee the banquet.
"You have all... worked hard. Thank you."
Before leaving the opulent chamber, he expressed his thanks to the handmaidens.
"Not at all."
"It was our duty to perform."
"We congratulate you on the great slaying."
Having been chosen as handmaidens, they were young ladies from families of some standing within the tribe. Their refined faces were filled entirely with joy and pride.
'Am I the strange one?'
It seemed the embarrassment here was entirely Eugene's to bear.
Looking at the women's hands, folded demurely together, he felt as though the lingering sensation of their touches upon his skin would come flooding back.
"..."
Shaking his head, Eugene moved his feet quickly and exited the room.
* * *
A splendid party was underway in the castle's banquet hall.
Nobles, merchant guild heads, and mercenary captains who had come from every corner of Sicily were eating and drinking themselves into a frenzy even in broad daylight.
"The lance I gripped in this fist stabbed into the Hydra over and over!"
A dark elf knight reeking of alcohol climbed atop the dining table and thrust his fist into the air.
"Truly magnificent."
"We watched from afar as well. Compared to the sight of you knights charging, the jousting tournaments of the Roman Kingdom look like mere child's play."
When the mercenary captains clapped and fawned over them, the dark elf knights grew even more elated.
"Naturally! However fiercely you fight in a tournament, how could it compare to a real battle?"
"Have you ever thrust a lance into a Hydra? If you haven't, hold your tongue. The sensation is on a wholly different plane from piercing an orc or a boar."
The mercenary captains, guild officials, and nobles who had come seeking revelry responded with cheers. The warriors who had accomplished great feats of arms deserved such treatment.
"Damn. I'm dying of envy."
The knights of Sicily downed their drinks, their faces a mixture of half acknowledgment, half jealousy.
Seated at the high table and watching the spectacle, Eugene popped a grape into his mouth.
He had relocated the Wandering Castle here not solely for the Hydra's corpse. It was also to entertain the nobles and proclaim the authority of the Meyer family across the entire island.
"Heavens! I have never seen a banquet held with so much ice stacked about."
Varda actively employed the power of the cold-storage and freezing units.
In one corner of the banquet hall, an ice sculpture three meters high stood as decoration, and ice cubes for cooling liquor or fruit drinks were piled in abundance.
Clink.
Gulp, gulp.
"Ahh!"
Perhaps owing to a coolness they had never tasted before, the guests were guzzling their drinks far more than at any other banquet.
Not only Eugene, the host, but Varda as well had to accept countless toasts.
Since everyone was drunk, more of them moved on instinct. There were many times more people offering drinks to Varda, as if drawn by her beauty, than to Eugene, the authority figure.
"I am honored to meet the mage of the Emerald Forest. Please, accept this humble drink I offer!"
"Brave knights, loyal followers, even this magnificent castle! There are many things I envy about Your Excellency, but Varda-nim most of all! The gods are truly unfair, heaping so many blessings on one man. Hic..."
Among them, some had a habit of crying when drunk. Perhaps they were just crying out of envy.
"I feel like I've seen this before?"
"...Be quiet. Whose fault do you think this is, anyway?"
The noble elf lady, returning from the restroom for the second time, glared at Eugene as he smirked roguishly.
Varda refused none of the drinks offered to her and did her utmost to entertain everyone as the prospective lady of the house.
"Wahaha! Your tolerance is truly formidable, my lady! I had heard that elves drink better than dwarves."
"Indeed, a dignity befitting the advisor of the Hydra Slayer!"
Varda sighed as she looked at the drinks approaching from all directions the moment she returned from the restroom. Yet, on the other hand, she also felt satisfied.
Amid the island-wide sensation caused by Eugene's feat of defeating the Hydra, the banquet was a resounding success.
Every arriving guest marveled at the majesty of the Wandering Castle and was moved by the special food and drink that could only be tasted here.
Gulp.
When Varda emptied her cup in one go, the knight who had offered it stomped his feet in excitement. He was one who had come to express his gratitude for repaying his great-grandfather's blood price.
"I swear upon the name of House Kirson! Nothing in Sicily can compare to His Excellency the Viscount's honor or Varda-nim's beauty! If anyone disputes it, I'll correct that wicked thought with this sword!"
As Varda smiled while holding her empty cup upside down, her magnanimity was praised from all sides.
Beauty and grace, a monstrous capacity for drink and toughness. A woman possessing all these things was impossible for a knight not to fall for.
'Now House Meyer's legitimacy and prestige will stand on bedrock in Sicily.'
This, too, was a form of wifely devotion. For that purpose, she could make as many trips to the restroom as needed.
* * *
On the rooftop of the Wandering Castle, Hydra hides caught the wind. Dwarf blacksmiths, dark elf leather craftsmen, and witches had gathered and were bustling about.
The constant strong wind here provided excellent ventilation, greatly aiding the workers' health. There were also facilities that sprayed water stored in the castle and a forge driven by magic.
It was the optimal place for processing monster hides and organs.
"The color is absolutely astonishing."
Rex clasped his hands together like a girl, his eyes ecstatic.
"It is remarkable. It was a fine hide even when it was alive, but this is truly..."
Eugene also nodded.
Once the dirt and dust were wiped away and it was polished with various chemicals, it shone to the point where one would think, 'Ah, so this is what a masterpiece is!'
Whenever the wide-spread hide fluttered in the wind, the geometric patterns writhed as if ready to put someone under a spell.
"Beautiful."
The knights, squires, and craftsmen looking at the hide all wore dreamy expressions, making one wonder if they really had been hypnotized.
"The records of our ancestors only mention fighting a Hydra and then retreating. I never imagined we would ever actually obtain its hide."
It seemed particularly poignant for Rex, who carried the blood of nomads and hunters.
"They say that if you go to the imperial palace of the Eastern Empire across the sea, there is a massive carpet completed over ten generations of a great artisan family. Have you heard of it, Sir Knight?"
"No. For something to be made over ten generations, it must be an incredible treasure."
"It is said to hang behind the Caliph's throne. It is said that because of that carpet, those granted an audience see a false halo around the Caliph."
"Wasn't it hung up for exactly that purpose in the first place?"
"Yes. But compared to this hide, the Caliph's carpet must be no better than garbage."
Since a Hydra was a type of snake, it bore its characteristic pattern. The pattern and color closely resembled that of a viper, making it look extremely menacing.
Furthermore, as was typical of large monsters, even after death, the hide was imbued with the mystery of a mighty predator.
"Ooh!"
The skin of every working dwarf and dark elf was uniformly covered in goosebumps. Some even shivered as if they had just urinated.
It was because every time they looked at the dark brown pattern etched into the hide, they felt the illusion of being placed before the maw of a giant snake.
"Take breaks while you work. You'll collapse at this rate."
"We're fine, Castle Lord."
"In my view, you are absolutely not fine."
With tired eyes, Eugene forcibly pried the stubborn Walker away and sent him to the rest area.
"Thank you. No matter how much we told him, he simply wouldn't listen..."
The chief disciple, a dwarf, bowed his head. Like the other dwarves, his beard was sticking out wildly, as if hit by a static electricity bomb.
"At this rate, I wonder if anyone will even be able to wear it once it's made into armor?"
"It is because it is all in one piece right now. Once it is cut to make the armor and treated by the witches, wearing it is no problem. W-Well, I shall take my leave now."
Worried that Eugene might send him to the rest area too, the chief disciple nimbly returned to his work station.
As a craftsman, resting while leaving such fine hide untouched was more painful. For if others continued the work while he rested, wouldn't his own hands have that much less a share in it?
"Add all the chemicals."
"Th-This much?"
"I said add it all. Did I say add more? Just dump in the whole sack."
Elsewhere, the witches were barking at the apprentice witches as they processed the tendons and muscles.
A composite bow made using monster remains became a weapon so powerful it could pierce straight through anything short of iron armor.
"Ah, geez. Can't you do the job right? You don't see that single speck of fat left on this tendon?"
"I'm sorry."
"Fuck, does saying sorry finish it? If you make a bowstring with fat stuck to it, invisible rot seeps inside."
A dark elf woman who had raised a fierce-looking palm suddenly glanced sidelong at Eugene. Then, she smoothly lowered her hand and scratched the back of her head. It was incredibly natural.
She seemed to have been about to start a fight, then remembered that the august Castle Lord was watching and held herself back.
"If this happens, the internal tissue of the string could slowly rot and snap during battle. Then our warrior, or whoever that warrior was trying to save, dies on the spot. The victory that single arrow would have won could evaporate."
The witch's words were no exaggeration. The arrow that bursts a mid-to-large monster's eye. The arrow that pierces the throat of the commander leading an army.
Such cases were incredibly common in the annals of war. And they always began with a single arrow loosed by a mere archer.
"From now on, look so closely your eyes pop out. Understood?"
"Yes! Hic!"
"Good grief."
Eugene and Rex looked at each other.
"A bit scary, isn't she?"
"You'd have to be at least that tough to run a matriarchal society."
The witches were wound tight with a sense of discipline that felt different from the military. So much so that it brought to mind the hospitals in Eugene's memory. It seemed that wherever people gathered, things were much the same.
* * *
Truly great nobles with massive influence, or the kings of various nations, maintained special elite guards.
The Immortals, who had participated as an enemy force in this Sicilian expedition, were such an order—the Caliph's own knightly guard of the Eastern Empire.
Their very existence was a deterrent that threatened external foes and a symbol that established the monarch's authority among internal vassals.
Thus, while the skill of its members was important, they also required equipment that made them stand out. They needed something that could command respect just by being seen.
This was the reason why even most high nobles found it difficult to properly equip a true elite guard.
In the case of the Immortals, they projected their intimidating presence through a triad of factors: specially crafted full-body scale mail armor from the Eastern Empire, Zweihanders, and a stature above the norm.
Now House Meyer had fulfilled the conditions for creating its own elite guard.
"Are you truly granting us this precious armor?"
Haind and the tribal knights, having received the prototype Hydra armor, trembled.
"Regrettably, it is not a grant. It is standard-issue equipment provided for your free use during your term of service under me."
"It is already a reward beyond what we deserve! This is a treasure the great lords of Roman would covet!"
The squires also received Hydra armor. It was armor that was slightly singed by fire or damaged, of a quality somewhat lower than that of the knights.
"Waaah."
"We shall serve you with all our hearts!"
Of course, even that alone caused emotional sobs to burst out here and there. As befitted squires, they maintained their discipline, and so their posture did not slacken, but thick teardrops streamed down their faces.
It was because they knew that this scorched leather armor, too, was a treasure that could not be bought or sold.
The parts that were difficult to work and had to be used as a single piece, the weaker areas that needed multiple layers, and the overly heavy sections were all used to make horse barding.
When the few knights and squires fully armed in this way stood before the Wandering Castle, it was truly a magnificent sight.
"Castle Lord, please show us mercy as well!"
"Once it's completed, it will be distributed in order, so do not worry."
The tribal knights who had not yet received armor looked at Eugene with earnest eyes.
"With just eight, the impression is already this formidable. How magnificent will it be when everyone is fully equipped and arrayed? As your lord, I am even greedier for it than you are."
Riders and warhorses wrapped from head to toe in Hydra leather without a single gap.
It was as terrifying as if thousands of vipers had been molded together into the shape of a knight.
"Now, I suppose we won't need to train you in glaring with deadly intent to intimidate. Even I, who am on your side, get chills looking at you bastards."
At Eugene's words, the knights laughed heartily, while the squires struggled to keep the corners of their mouths from rising.
"Isn't it excessive to grant such precious armor to the squires? I am already worried that they might get a big head."
The most senior of the tribal knights, a dark elf man, spoke with concern.
"I understand your worry, Sir, but it is necessary. You see, from now on, you are not merely to function as my sword."
"Pardon? What do you mean by that?"
The knights, born soldiers all, looked puzzled.
"There will not be many enemies who actually fight my army directly. There will be far more ordinary folk—farmers, laborers, herders—who simply watch from a distance."
Eugene pointed at the knights and squires wearing the prototype armor.
"What is important is to plant a lifelong memory with just one glance! Just a single glance. And that memory must be a harmonious blend of dignity and menace. For people are always more wary of those they fear than those they hold in reverence."
No lord paid as much attention to the concept of propaganda as Eugene did.
While his vassals focused only on the sturdiness and weight of the armor they would gain, Eugene was the opposite.
He paid more attention to the threatening viper pattern etched into the Hydra's skin.
"The presence is more than overwhelming, so what remains is the matter of quantity. At a single glance, it must fill the entire field of vision. For that, knights alone are insufficient. Squires must also stand in rank to fully fill it out, it seems."
Eugene made a rectangle with the thumbs and forefingers of both hands and wandered about here and there. A satisfied smile was etched on his lips.
"We are not entirely sure what you mean."
"If the Castle Lord says so, it must be right."
The knights scratched their heads and let it pass. This was not the first or second time their liege had spoken or acted in ways that were difficult to understand.
What mattered was that he always secured benefits beyond their comprehension. Whether through force or other means.
End
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