Mexican Standoff (1)
Mexican Standoff (1)
Swoosh—!
The rain, which had been falling in droplets, quickly thickened into a downpour.
The nobles had staked out spots all across the Shade Garden, and among them, houses on poor terms waged quiet wars of nerves.
"Hey, baldy. You came too?"
"What? Who dares—!"
"Look up, I said."
The Shade Garden was a place built using the branches of colossal intertwined trees as supports. Inevitably, it produced all manner of elevation differences.
"Whoa! From up here, you look just like a bird's egg. Is that leftover side hair supposed to be a nest?"
The noble below bristled at the one from a rival house smirking down at him.
"That damned wretch is looking down on me? Pack up! I'm moving higher!"
"My lord. Please... there are no spots further up."
Only the servants caught between their masters' pride suffered for it.
Elsewhere, a servant who had loaded firewood into a portable brazier took out a flint.
"You must be quite cold, my lord. Just a moment, please."
"A fire, surrounded by trees on all sides? Learn to read the room, you fool."
"I-I'm sorry!"
A servant who had brought firewood out of consideration for his cold-sensitive master was berated for no good reason.
"It is fine. Light the fire."
An old noble from Cornwall interjected.
"The trees here do not burn, I'm told. During the era when the half-elf family dwelt here, they repelled foreign invasions several times. The enemy tried countless times to set fires and failed every time."
The nobles from Cornwall were already warming their palms over blazing braziers. Around that time, Baron Foster's messengers made their rounds, crying out loudly.
"His Excellency the Viscount has granted permission to light fires. Those short on provisions, send your servants."
"You heard him?"
The old noble looked pleased. It was only natural, as a legend passed down through generations had just become reality before his eyes.
The tree-shaped fountain, dry for many long years, was filled with clean water. Servants, male and female, drew water from it here and there. From tents flying various house banners drifted the fragrance of black tea brewing.
"This is on an entirely different level from the water and sewage systems of other cities, I tell you."
One noble proudly displayed a framed picture he had brought from home. It was an illustration depicting a cross-section of the Shade Garden, showing roots of staggering scale stretching beneath the earth.
"Incredible. That would easily amount to several kilometers."
"Is that blue part shown at the bottom meant to be groundwater?"
As nobles unfamiliar with past wars marveled, the one who had brought the picture nodded.
"The roots absorb water and send it upward, making it usable at the spouts in between. It is living water infused with nature's blessing. Good for the body, they say."
The Cornwall noble showed off his knowledge freely. It was the mindset of nobles in this era to attach an infinite premium to age itself. Preserving that legacy was cause enough for pride.
The nobles who had come from all over the south, despite a past of countless clashes, achieved a temporary harmony. Setting aside their wariness of the fearsome conqueror, it was to calculate their houses' gains and losses in the rapidly shifting political landscape.
"The tide is already decided. Viscount Winchester must step down from his seat. From what I hear, even the border nobles are in a mood to wash their hands of the matter."
"Were they not originally ones of weak loyalty? So long as whoever rises to the top can hold off Count Kruger."
"But the situation is already such that he has fled to Haven."
"Hmph! Encircle the surroundings and block the waterways—how long do you think he could last?"
Haven had a large population. Having failed to foresee such a crushing defeat, its stockpiled provisions were also scarce.
The supplies Viscount Winchester had brought with him were all seized by Eugene. Once a proper siege began, he would not hold out long.
"If all the nobles gathered here submit a joint petition, His Excellency will also have to acknowledge reality."
Houses that had been hostile from the start, or at a minimum neutral, quickly reached their decisions.
"No, how can you all speak of it so easily?"
A few honorable nobles grumbled, but it was meaningless.
"Then what do you propose? Just as one nation cannot have two kings, the south cannot have two masters."
"But the Winchester house has also ruled this place for a long time."
"Who granted them that title of nobility?"
"Well, that..."
"Whichever side you name, the result is the same, so let us stop this idle talk."
Whether one traced the Winchester family's origins to the 1st Era Elf royalty or to the Ancient Kingdom of the 2nd Era, it made no difference.
The former left them with nothing to say before Varda's judgment, who carried the blood of the Elven royal family.
Choosing the latter made them equally pathetic before a conqueror who advanced with sheer force. Moreover, Eugene was the master acknowledged by the last legacy of the Ancient Kingdom.
"It's terribly dark. Someone light a fire."
The meeting continued into the evening, and the nobles pointed at the structures scattered about that resembled streetlamps. They were placed in perfectly suited locations, and if lit, would brighten the surroundings.
"My lord. Are these not braziers?"
A servant holding oil and a torch, standing on a ladder, said.
"Then what are they?"
"They look like flower buds. Very tough ones, though."
In other places too, servants who had climbed up with torches to inspect shook their heads and climbed back down. They would endure the inconvenience rather than; none had the nerve to carelessly damage anything.
* * *
"It seems they are all quite fond of a picnic in the rain."
Eugene had stationed his subordinates to mediate disputes, but not a single report of an incident requiring their dispatch had come in yet.
"It is only natural. A power that can neither be compromised with nor avoided makes people rational by its very existence."
"There are many cases where a manageable bit of trouble escalates because of wounded pride."
Varda, walking beside him, looked weary. The corners of her eyes, usually so sharp, and her long ears both drooped somewhat.
Eugene released her interlaced fingers and wrapped his arm around her waist. The pleasure brought by the deep curves of an elf woman's body. He could never tire of it. A bashful-faced Varda leaned her body against his as well.
"Are you not pushing yourself too hard? You should rest a bit."
"I am fine. This place has been asleep for far too long, and too deeply. I want to set the stopped time rolling again, quickly."
Varda was not simply taking a stroll. With her footsteps, she was in the process of awakening the mysteries slumbering throughout the Shade Garden.
[Our mistress has returned. Rise, all of you.]
As the spirits dormant within the tree pillars, vines, and roots stirred actively, a deeper vibrancy welled forth. It encompassed not only form but function as well.
"Whoa!"
A servant fell over in surprise. This was because the flower bud of a nearby streetlamp had suddenly bloomed wide open.
Hwaak—.
The pistil at the center gave off a soft yet intense light, and the petals scattered it broadly. The nobles' exclamations of wonder could be heard at the fantastical sight.
"They were not simple decorations, it seems."
"They are inferior to the magic lamps in your castle, but they are more than sufficient to drive away the darkness."
"I like these for the cozy feeling they give. What is the principle behind them?"
"They store the sun's light during the day and radiate it at night. I do not know the finer details either. They were made using lost techniques and secret methods."
"Then we must treasure them all the more. Shall we put up fences?"
Eugene remembered the crystal goblet from when he was hosted in Baron Foster's domain. Specifically, the story of the maid who was severely flogged for having put a crack in a precious treasure.
"If someone were to accidentally damage one of those, the nobles might well demand they be hung."
"It is fine. The streetlamps of the Shade Garden are living branches and flowers. Even if broken, they bloom anew right in their place. There is a reason they remained intact through long ages of neglect."
To say they were made of mortal materials meant, in other words, that they existed within nature's cycle. Even if destroyed, rebirth from that death was also possible.
-A leader determined by the quantity of sweat, not the integrity of blood. Is that not a method preferred by monsters like orcs or gnolls?
As Varda had said in the past, the obsession with bloodline was stronger among elves than humans. That must be because the nobility of royalty could be felt in daily life like this.
* * *
"I have simply routed Viscount Winchester's army. I have shown you the last legacy of the Ancient Kingdom and the resurrection of the Shade Garden."
The next day, after the sun rose, Eugene assembled all the nobles and proclaimed.
"With this, I believe there is nothing left for Varda-nim and me to prove. Only your choice remains. I'll give you until Haven falls to think it over."
No matter how much authority the head of a house held, he could not arbitrarily make a decision of such gravity.
He would need to discuss it with the enfeoffed knights under his house and also needed time to coordinate with allied houses bound by marriage.
"From this moment, anyone who cooperates with Viscount Winchester in any form shall be considered an enemy. Those who do not swear an oath of fealty after the castle falls will likewise be my enemy."
The southern nobles, who had been intoxicated by Varda and the beauty of the Shade Garden, were jolted wide awake.
Unlike those two dreamlike figures, the knight issuing threats before their eyes was the stark reality. And behind him, the powerful warriors glaring fiercely were as well.
Varda, the one person who could have restrained this, looked upon her knight with a pleased expression.
Even unarmed, the pressure Eugene exuded was something even nobles tempered by battle and politics found difficult to endure. It was not solely because of the beastly fighting spirit he possessed as a warrior.
The moment they met the conqueror's deep eyes, their bodies froze. A terror as if Eugene would snatch the souls from their bodies and plunge them beneath the sea!
"Please, accept my sword."
"I accept it gladly."
A noble who had managed to conclude discussions with his household members made his decision then and there.
"If you would deliver the south from the tyranny of the midlands, I shall serve you with all my heart."
"When I face the army of Count Kruger, I shall boldly challenge the villain to a duel."
"That is indeed the spirit of an All-Conquering Knight."
It was a magnanimity on an entirely different plane from the weak and scrambling Viscount Winchester who hid behind others. It came as a fresh shock to the southern nobles.
'So this is how a leader should be.'
The nobles of martial houses, long weary of someone akin to a merchant lording at the top, gladly joined.
Those who could not decide immediately hurriedly boarded their wagons.
"There is little time."
"We must hurry back to the main house and reach a decision."
Haven's strength lay in sustaining its population, but it was not a region suited for defense. It was especially vulnerable to an attack from within the south itself, as such a thing had never been seriously contemplated.
Defending a fortress was advantageous, they said, but Eugene's army was beyond standard. It did not seem the resolution would be long in coming.
"A gift to congratulate Your Excellency on your arrival in Britannia."
"I appreciate the gesture. Would you sit in the foremost seat at my wedding to Varda-nim?"
"I would be honored!"
Moreover, it was a rule that those who pledged loyalty quickly earned at least a little more of their monarch's favor.
Naturally, Viscount Winchester, upon hearing this news, was beside himself with fury and despair.
"Your Excellency. A great army, composed of Viscount Meyer's forces and his vassals, is advancing on Haven. The marching speed is slow, but they are rich in supplies and their morale is said to soar sky-high."
"What on earth are my vassals doing? The ungrateful wretches!"
It had been but a single defeat. A fatal one, perhaps, but only one in number. Yet looking at the current situation, he felt as if the majority of the southern nobles had turned against him.
"What of Baron Howard? Baron Crawford?"
These were the families who guarded the frontier, who were exempted from taxes and possessed correspondingly strong military forces. They had been Viscount Winchester's last hope.
"They say they cannot march because the movements of the central nobles are unusual. That they've also suffered sporadic raids..."
"Such an obvious lie!"
The frontier families were valiant warrior clans who had stood proudly even against demon-like Vikings.
If men such as these refused to join, making excuses even a fool could see through, the invader from Roman must be truly fearsome indeed.
"We must buy time at all costs. If we can drag this out until winter, their strength will flag and they will come to the negotiating table."
"And the problem is that not a single army has come to help us buy time until winter! We have fewer than two hundred men here, while the enemy numbers over a thousand dwarves alone. Once they start hammering, they'll raise siege engines beyond all reason."
The vassals quarreled among themselves, but only predictable words emerged. The viscount, who had sunk into his high seat and buried his face in his hands, maintained his silence without even mediating.
"My lord! Urgent news!"
What changed the atmosphere was the tidings brought by the messenger.
"The armies of Barsia and Gord have landed!"
"At last!"
Color rushed back into Viscount Winchester's face as he sprang to his feet and clenched his fist.
Just as the nobles of Cornwall had dispatched cries for aid in all directions, Viscount Winchester, too, had extended his hand wherever his feet could carry him.
Of course, he had not expected much. Aid crossing the sea meant limited dispatched forces, and the opposing power was the fearsome Count Kruger, after all.
The viscount, too, had merely prodded them in passing while summoning the mercenary company of the continent, rather than pinning genuine hope on noble reinforcements.
"With the might of those two, we can surely drive out these invaders! Dispatch an envoy of welcome at once..."
"M-my lord! That is..."
The messenger rudely interrupted Viscount Winchester's words. It was a thing he would never have done under ordinary circumstances, but the situation was that urgent.
"The two armies did not land at the northeastern border region you designated. They have seized the southeastern ports."
Viscount Winchester's jaw dropped open.
* * *
"They say men believe what they wish to believe when they grow desperate. Why would foreign armies respect an overlord who has lost his armies and his hold over his vassals?"
Having learned of the uninvited guests' involvement, Eugene shook his head slowly from side to side.
From what he had gathered, the armies of Barsia and Gord should have landed much farther north.
The plan had been for Viscount Winchester to supply provisions from the rear while they pillaged and occupied the frontier ruled by Count Kruger.
But for Barsia and Gord alike, confronting Count Kruger from across the sea was a heavy burden.
It was far easier to seize the southern domains now left utterly defenseless. Negotiate with Count Kruger under the backing of their home countries, and they might claim territory without shedding a drop of blood.
-Are they not the foreign forces Your Excellency summoned?!
-We have been robbed of the manor our ancestors have lived in for generations by those beasts!
Naturally, the southeastern nobles, their own feet thrust into the fire, sent out urgent appeals for rescue as one.
And this time Viscount Winchester in turn ignored them. More so than any crime of insolence for refusing his call to muster, he simply had no strength left to help.
"So you came to me, then?"
Before Eugene stood an envoy reduced to beggar's rags.
"Viscount Winchester is turning a blind eye to the calamity he himself has wrought! You alone, my lord, can reach out a rescuing hand!"
The envoy tearfully appealed before the only hope of the dispossessed nobles.
At present, the sole man leading a proper large army in the south was Eugene.
-To send an envoy to Viscount Meyer is tantamount to proclaiming one's intent to change lieges!
-I'll take that frontmost seat myself. Once the seats fill up, you can come running on foot from the rear!
-This is why I say nobles who aren't knights are unacceptable. They treat everything like business, and this is the result. Do they think money solves everything?
The lords who had been waiting to see how the situation developed, each for their own reasons, now swiftly made their decisions.
This was no pirate band or territorial dispute between nobles—this was a situation where great nobles of Barsia and Gord had invaded.
Though crossing the sea limited their forces more than usual, they were still no opponent a single house could face.
A war on a national scale was supposed to be a chaotic, unpredictable affair bouncing this way and that—but who had imagined it would roll along like this.
"My lord."
With a grim face, Eugene raised his hand and stopped Baron Foster, who was about to offer counsel.
"That foreign powers would dare meddle in Britannia's crisis and indulge in plunder—this I cannot overlook. I shall gladly march to your relief. Tell your master he need not worry."
"Thank you! Truly, thank you!"
The envoy dropped to both knees and pressed his forehead to the ground, bowing again and again.
"A most honorable judgment."
The southern nobles, including Baron Foster, also inclined their heads.
That he would wheel his army around and drive out the invaders even with the appetizing Haven sitting right before them—this attitude of fulfilling a great lord's duty stood in such stark contrast to Viscount Winchester.
Of course, had the man in question witnessed this scene, he would have been mortally outraged at the injustice of it.
'There's nothing Viscount Winchester can accomplish alone anymore, anyway. And Barsia and Gord are fellows I'll have to push out if I'm to claim the south whole.'
Drive off the competition and earn the gratitude of the southern nobles. If it was something he had to do regardless, it was better to accept magnanimously right then and there for all to see.
Thus Eugene's great army turned eastward.
"The army outside the walls is withdrawing! They are heading east!"
Viscount Winchester, who had heard the guard's report, clasped his hands and bowed his head deeply. Unless both sides annihilated each other, there was no cause at all for rejoicing.
For the day that army claimed victory would be the day his own house met its end.
"Letter paper. Bring me letter paper."
Watching the departing army, he had thought long and hard before setting pen to the blank sheet with a trembling hand. It was a document of surrender addressed to Eugene.
Viscount Winchester pressed his seal ring into the completed letter, then poured wax over it and sealed it shut.
He resolved that the moment word of Eugene's victory was heard from the east, he would send it forth by the swiftest courier mount.
* * *
Ever since Might had been reincarnated as a World Charger, Eugene had developed one bad habit.
"I'll go on ahead and scout the surroundings. You follow while keeping the supply line robust."
"No, Sir Knight! Surely not alone again?"
It was the habit of leaving his army behind and bolting out alone to reconnoiter the front.
Sniff, sniff.
At Homi's reaction as she caught a faint salt scent from the air, Eugene loaded provisions and supplies onto the saddle.
"We're nearly there, aren't we? I'll go ahead and get a proper sense of the surroundings."
"That is the scouts' work."
"I'm not dismissing them, but it can't compare to seeing it with my own eyes. The army has grown larger, so it's better to scout out a camping spot in advance."
"And if you should happen to encounter an enemy scouting party..."
"Then I'd welcome it. If they're few, I sweep them away and interrogate them. If they're many, I simply flee. That's all."
"..."
Rex had nothing to say. It was true that Might guaranteed a safe retreat.
After a few rounds of wrangling, Rex had no choice but to see off his liege as he dwindled to a dot beyond the horizon.
"What in the world is that horse? I knew it was extraordinary, but..."
The nobles who had meant to accompany the scouting to curry favor with Eugene at this opportunity wore dazed expressions. The horses they rode were fine mounts in their own right, but this speed was impossible to match.
"Is it truly acceptable to send His Excellency off alone? Should anything go awry, the south is finished."
"There is no cause for worry."
Varda soothed the nobles who had gathered before her to lament. Uncomfortable as they were conversing with a fierce army they had no prior acquaintance with, Varda alone served as their sole channel of communication.
"He will return safely to our embrace. For the world's swiftest legs, strongest arm, and finest nose are with him."
Just as Varda had declared. Atop Might, who devoured the earth, two figures rode.
"It has truly been long since we rode together, hasn't it?"
Eugene whispered to Homi, who sat behind him. At the joyful breath he felt immediately afterward, he quickly added—
"Save your words. A chance like today is too precious to spend them."
Homi answered by hugging Eugene's back as tightly as she could. Her long tail rubbed against Eugene's neck and cheek, expressing her affection.
Grrrowl-.
Might, too, let out a contented rumble, as if remembering the days when they had set out together from Kingdom's End.
Having shot through the viscount's domain like the wind, the three soon discovered the foreign army's encampment. Then they wore puzzled expressions.
"What are those fellows doing?"
The armies of Barsia and Gord were glaring at one another, ready to fight at any moment.
"This is hardly the time to be fighting among themselves."
The southeastern territory of Britannia, now become ownerless ground, was little different from a treasure vault that spilled forth riches at the point of a blade.
Wiser it was to plunder comfortably rather than uselessly exhaust one's strength on unfamiliar soil. But those two seemed to have nothing visible in their eyes.
Two encampments in a standoff. From the Barsia side, one knight stepped forward.
"Please, save me!"
The knight held a woman of distinctly Gordian appearance in his grip. He flicked his tongue as though savoring her terror, then drove his fangs into her slender nape.
"!!!"
The woman's eyes flew wide open as though she might tear, but her expression soon grew hazy.
Gulp. Gulp.
"Haaah..."
The Barsian knight's throat worked as he swallowed, and the woman, her face flushed red, let out a moan of pleasure.
Trickle.
Urine streamed down her trembling thighs.
"Hahaha!"
The Barsian knight who had been feasting on the woman's neck bared his blood-soaked fangs and mocked the Gord encampment.
"..."
The Gord army stared at the scene in silence.
The provocative performance launched by Barsia had been effective. Furious murmuring surged like a wave among the ax-wielding warriors.
From among them, a knight of towering build stepped out.
"That's a frame not inferior to Volks. I wonder if the bloodline is different—Gord certainly has a great many monster-like fellows."
Eugene rubbed his chin in admiration.
The giant Gord knight bounded in a single dash onto a boulder roughly a meter in height.
"Stalwart men of Gord! Behold the disgusting sight of these lowly bloodsuckers! They are trash who know nothing but to violate a helpless woman!"
The Gord army clashed axes against shields and roared.
"Let us teach those pale-faced sons of bitches what a real violation is!"
Eugene understood why they were fighting here. This was no realm of reason or logic.
The ill sentiment between Barsia and Gord ran far too deep to weigh such things.
'I suppose the information in the south being murky is another factor.'
Even Viscount Winchester, a native, was unaware that Eugene had intervened—so those who crossed the sea would be worse off still. Whichever way it went, the situation was to Eugene's advantage.
Rustle, rustle.
"Thank you. Homi."
"Mm."
Eugene accepted the pouch of nuts his beloved squire handed him.
The battlefields until now had required his full focused attention as a commander, but this one was different. All he had to do was sit back comfortably and enjoy the spectacle of combat.
End
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