War of Rage (1) Illustration
War of Rage (1) Illustration
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-Don't know about anything else, but make sure you secure the magical tomes, items, and journals the two leaders used. Keep it discreet so useless rumors don't start.
The search team carried out their orders faithfully. The orc priest's research texts they secured made Varda's golden eyes sparkle incessantly.
"Do you really like them that much? They must concern knowledge diametrically opposed to the field you pursue, Varda-nim."
"A mage is a being who lives every moment in anguish. These research texts are precisely what results when you strain such thoughts through a sieve and distill them."
Books that looked ominous just to behold, yet to a mage, they were more precious than a fortune in gold.
"Moreover, it is a treatise left behind by an intelligent monster. I daresay you could live a lifetime and scarcely ever have the chance to see such a thing."
As mages were also people, the society and life of the author exerted a profound influence on their magic.
"The inner wisdom of a mage unbound by morality or conscience within monster society. Thinking of it that way, it is indeed remarkable."
"Is it not? If these ever appeared on the mages' market, a bloody battle would erupt as each fought to claim them."
"Rest easy. No one would dare lay hands on Count Meyer's wife."
Varda, who had been meeting Eugene's eyes over the top of the book, quietly raised it higher to hide her face.
They were bound in a relationship where they had bared even their most shameful places without reserve. Yet in matters like this, she still seemed to grow shy.
"However, judging from the records Ivar left behind, the fellow had almost no talent. He called himself a partner, but most of what he could do was preparing materials and menial chores."
The secret record was filled with jealousy and inferiority, along with lamentations over a situation that offered him no other path.
"Indeed. Considering his role alone, his position was practically that of the orc priest's disciple."
And yet Raxar had genuinely considered Ivar a friend. There were even sections where he researched how a talentless man like Ivar might hear the voice of a god.
"A fellow like Ivar rummaging through old books, feeling some guidance, and locating a heretical scripture. Can that really happen by chance?"
"Ordinarily it would not, but the timing is what it is right now."
The season of the spiritual tide. It was an era drawing nearer to the Otherworld, so even spiritual contact that would normally be impossible could be managed by sheer desperation.
"Then might not that book also be dangerous? Having it in the castle makes me decidedly uneasy."
"I have no intention of keeping it either. Let us present it to Lord Marbas, and once he has finished reading it, offer it to the goddess. This scripture is also an object imbued with another god's power, after all."
Now, more than half of the Wandering Castle's residents, including Cassandra, had become followers of Vanas.
They were dark elves who had lived as nomads for ages, surviving solely by their own strength. It seemed a spiritual entity to rely upon in times of joy and hardship was something they found profoundly welcome.
Just then, cheers arose from all over the encampment. The giant's corpse, loaded onto a massive cart, was emerging through the monastery entrance.
"According to the records, its name is Tyrant."
"Tyrant. Most fitting."
The soldiers' reactions were a mixture of shock and terror, pride and confidence. Murmuring persisted ceaselessly regardless of rank.
"An ogre!"
"No. The knights said it was a demonic beast summoned by wicked heretics."
"But it doesn't look beastly at all? It's more..."
"It's eerily human-like. Gives me a really unpleasant feeling."
What was certain was that the faces of the soldiers the vassals had brought with them relaxed. Their fear of the coming battle seemed to have been greatly diluted.
When knights who had felled such a terrifying demonic beast stood beside them, what was there left to fear?
"His Excellency the Count was right."
The vassals who had remained outside let out sighs. The sheer mass of Tyrant and the testimonies of the knights deployed in the operation were no joke.
-Was there truly any need for you to go yourself, Your Excellency?
-Ignore the nonsense spouted by a mere orc.
Eugene had ignored his vassals' counsel and pressed forward with the exploration personally.
It was fortunate that the very best of their fighting strength had entered fully prepared; had he dispatched a subjugation force in the usual manner, every last participating knight would have been slaughtered.
* * *
As Tyrant, like the Wendigo, belonged to the class of demonic beasts, its corpse was of no great use. Yet the vassals vied to counsel him to preserve it.
"This is proof that we fulfilled our duty to the safety of Britannia even in the midst of civil war. It will attest to the legitimacy of the South and of Your Excellency the Count."
"I see no reason to refuse. Have it carried out as planned."
Furthermore, since Tyrant had also been a demonic beast, a magic stone existed within its body.
Unlike the past when he had roamed with only Homi and Varda, there was no pressing need now to convert it to coin.
"Is it truly acceptable for me to receive something so precious?"
Cassandra, upon being granted Tyrant's magic stone, was genuinely delighted.
"Thanks to you, we never once lost our way or fell into a trap. What's more, had you not assassinated the orc priest, the wretch would have rained magic down on us."
In outdoor operations with no significant hazards, Homi's sense of smell alone had been sufficient to expect reliable tracking.
But the moment it became a full-fledged indoor operation against prepared enemies, the matter changed entirely.
The scouting of Cassandra, who had completed professional rogue training and even handled the mysteries of a witch, was beyond anything Homi could match.
Thump-thump.
Cassandra was nearly breathless from the intense mystic aura she felt radiating from the magic stone. Even the magic stone the Wendigo had harbored could not compare to this.
"Castle Lord. Do you know why there are witches but no male equivalent?"
"There must be some reason it is difficult for men to master?"
Cassandra nodded.
"All magic begins from feeling and accepting the mystic within one's body. That is why innate talent is absolutely necessary. But a witch can wield magic through effort even without talent. The secret lies precisely in this."
Cassandra's two hands gathered below her navel, as if cradling her womb.
"A woman's body is capable of containing two or more souls. To put it another way..."
"It means you are at an advantage over men in receiving spiritual power from the Otherworld as well?"
Those lacking in talent could compensate with herbs, tattoos, or dances imbued with shamanistic power.
"I like how quickly you understand, Castle Lord. As expected, you really are one of us."
Cassandra smiled brightly.
Eugene was someone who, despite being male and having a witch for a mother, himself wielded formidable Otherworldly authority. To witches like Cassandra, that was a point of fascination above all else.
"This magic stone is a treasure of condensed Otherworldly energy. It will aid me in stepping into a new realm of power."
"Just as Homi drew power from the Forest Spirit."
The possessed movements that had seen her scale walls and ceilings against the orcs, striking three-dimensionally, and that had even toyed with Tyrant.
Within those movements lay the skill of a monkey leaping through tree branches and the nimbleness of a mongoose hunting a viper. It was thanks to inheriting wisdom concentrated in nature over eons.
"And so, what sort of power can you draw from this magic stone?"
"It is difficult to be certain. The absolute majority of witches are poor and powerless, standing on the weaker's side. There are no records of anyone ever using a treasure so precious as this. I will come to know in time."
Life under Eugene's command offered the ideal conditions for researching and accepting such power.
"I shall be looking forward to it. But see that you do absolutely nothing reckless."
"Of course. I've watched Marbas-nim suffer for so long, after all."
When teaching lessons to the young, a negative exemplar served more effectively than a teacher. Irreversible agony was something one could only understand by experiencing it, whether directly or indirectly.
By his very existence, Marbas taught humility and caution to countless young members of the Black Hand Tribe.
* * *
To commemorate the victory, meat was served to the soldiers. This was possible because the marching army traveled with livestock in the nomadic tribal fashion.
Into a vast cauldron large enough to hold two men, cooking oil was poured in great quantities.
They poured, and poured, and poured again.
"Just that oil alone must be worth a year's wages for me."
True to an age bereft of entertainment, the mercenaries were not about to miss such a spectacle.
When chunks of lamb, cleanly skinned and butchered, arrived in washbasins, everyone applauded.
"Now, now, deploying the meat!"
Pleased by the audience's attention, the chief cook played along appropriately.
The lamb pieces slid down the inner slope of the cauldron as if sledding. Massive chunks of meat, easily weighing 4 to 5 kilos each, were swallowed by the boiling oil.
Sssssssss!
Sssssssss!
A sound ecstatic just to hear rang throughout the encampment. Frying meat this large in this much oil was a first for everyone.
The sound and the visual effect alone brought delight. It felt almost as if their eyes and ears were experiencing orgasm.
What was more, there were also special menus Eugene had personally ordered.
"Chief! We've brought the potatoes, cut nice and chunky!"
"You made sure to coat the sliced onions with flour, right?"
"Yes! It's a menu the Castle Lord personally ordered!"
Tssssssssssss!
The moment the vegetables were dropped into another oil-filled cauldron, a savory aroma exploded outward. The mercenaries watching stomped their feet and cheered at a level approaching frenzy.
"Your Excellency. I have never seen an army with morale this high."
Even the nobles who would ordinarily react with something like, 'How raucous, just like lowborn wretches,' were all smiling in this moment. Their expressions showed they were pleased by the atmosphere of unity.
"We all do this to eat and live, do we not? Wherever you are, when the food is good, you naturally find the strength to endure hardship and fear."
Good food imparts to the members of an organization the feeling that they are being well-treated. Even after a wretchedly miserable duty shift, if the food is delicious, the irritation dissolves.
Food was a truly critical factor. Especially in a place like an army, which ran on physical strength and morale.
"Would you care for a taste? I guarantee it will suit a nobleman's palate well."
"Ah, y-yes, thank you."
Eugene picked up a freshly fried onion ring and placed it into his vassal's mouth. Carefully, so it would not touch the man's splendid mustache.
The baron was flustered by an act he had never even received from his wife, but the one doing it was the ruler of the South.
Crunch!
And what was more, this new food was absolutely superb.
"...!"
The baron's expression immediately brightened at the taste of a whole new world spreading through his mouth. As this was noble-grade hospitality, pepper and salt had been sprinkled on appropriately, making it taste even better.
"Will you not eat as well, Your Excellency?"
"You men eat your fill. I partook of it often enough in ordinary times."
While the vassals were savoring the onion rings with wine, a messenger came running.
"Your Excellency. An envoy from House Louis of Barsia has come to negotiate Lord Alber's return."
This, indeed, was news to whet Eugene's appetite.
* * *
"It is an honor to meet Britannia's finest knight. Duke Louis has often spoken highly of Your Excellency Meyer as well."
The pale-complexioned envoy bowed courteously.
"Those Barsian curs, coming out with such honeyed words?"
The vassals murmured in surprise. All nobles were prone to it, but the Barsians in particular were notoriously haughty.
For a duke's envoy to speak even such polite pleasantries held great meaning. It signified that they now perceived Eugene's power as something demanding genuine attention.
"We thank you for treating Lord Alber with such courtesy."
"I merely did my duty as a fellow nobleman. He proved to be a cultured knight, with whom one could enjoy conversation or a game of chess."
"I shall certainly convey those words to Duke Louis. He will no doubt be most pleased."
Behind the envoy, slaves carried in chests brimming with gold coins and set them down.
As befitted slaves of a Barsian noble house, they wore fine clothes and carried themselves with dignity. They were not merely laborers; they were also beings who provided blood to their masters.
Just as all nobles coveted fine cuisine, the vampires of Barsia craved blood of the highest grade.
Therefore, the slaves' daily food and drink were strictly managed, they exercised regularly, and they took herbal extracts to cleanse their blood.
At this point, they were closer to high-ranking servants or retainers than slaves. They stood a few notches above even the famously well-treated slaves of the Eastern Empire.
Incidentally, the highest delicacy among Barsian nobles was to taste the blood of an enemy commander after a victorious battle. Since it was the worst possible humiliation for the opponent, they mostly refrained, however.
"The custom has been honorably fulfilled, so you may take Lord Alber away."
Alber, who had finished preparing for his departure, paid his respects to Eugene. His injuries were perfectly healed thanks to the tribal witches' devoted care.
"Lord Alber. You were an honorable noble. I hope that if we meet again someday, it will be in a forthright head-on clash, not a night ambush."
"I am grateful for the compliment, but I respectfully decline."
At Eugene's ceremonially flattering words, Alber's expression stiffened and he waved his hand.
"Because I never want to face Your Excellency on the battlefield."
When he was first captured, Alber had grumbled every single day.
-I will challenge the count to a duel!
-You cannot! Sir, you are the representative of the prisoners. Do you mean to insult Count Meyer's consideration?
-Damn it! To be ambushed right after fighting the Gord bastards, of all things. If we'd fought properly in the daytime, I wouldn't have lost like this!
No matter how much he thought about it, it was simply too mortifying.
But as time passed during his stay with Eugene's army, his protruding lips gradually drew back in.
The more he saw, in both non-combat and combat situations, the more it revealed itself to be an absurdly mighty host. In particular, Eugene himself, riding atop Might and swinging that enormous axe, was a monster incarnate.
-Your Excellency! There is no need for you to do such menial...
-It's dangerous, so step aside.
Snick!
Crrrrrack...
-I-it's falling!
The sight of massive trees toppling one after another from a single blow whenever they made camp was almost absurd.
When he saw orcs standing before that axe blade, he even felt sorry for them, monsters though they were.
The abundant logistics, the equipment systems, the squared-away drill—it was all too far removed from the conventional army Alber had known.
Seeing Alber off was Mirana, Harvester's eldest daughter, from the great lord family of eastern Britannia.
"Alber. Do you absolutely have to write me letters once you return?"
"My father wouldn't leave me alone if he found out I was exchanging letters with a Britannian noble."
"So you won't send any?"
"..."
They had grown close enough in the meantime to even be holding hands. Eugene stroked Might as he watched the two young people.
"I wonder if the brother and sister who sent you to me are doing well? I'd like to meet them again."
The more he learned about Barsian nobles, the higher his estimation of the siblings Marcus and Maria rose.
"What sort of expression would they make if they saw you now?"
Grrr-.
As if uninterested, Might rubbed his cheek against his master's palm.
* * *
[Your Excellency the Count. The fief of the Tytus family has been reclaimed, and the Baimon family has also surrendered. I am currently heading for the Kilion family. I will send reinforcements as soon as the west is settled.]
The letter Philip had sent practically dripped with the wailing of the nobles, plain for all to see.
Even a wooden palisade castle was a luxury enjoyed only by the somewhat wealthy nobility. The majority of lords lived in mansions standing tall among the villages.
Of course, that alone made a lord virtually a king within his manor. Serfs living in shabby huts on grass gruel could regard working in the splendid manor house as a blessing from God.
Having secured his food supplies, Philip attacked those vassals first.
With not a single soul to help them and nothing to rely on but the lone garden hedge, the lords came out from their manors and begged for mercy on their knees.
Eugene's army, having finished settling the affairs of the west, advanced toward the central region. Naturally, the Kruger family did not merely stand by and watch.
"It seems a small unit has moved south, likely aiming to plunder."
"I suspect their intent was probably to stir up unrest among the convened lords."
The vassals who heard the messenger's report chuckled.
-Wh-what the hell is that? Why is something like that here?!
The central nobles who had come down leading swift soldiers were rendered speechless before the enormous castle blocking their path.
The place was already chilly from a harsh-blowing wind, and with shadows cast all across it, it felt even colder.
-My lord! The castle gate is opening!
-Retreat! Retreat!
Some nobles were captured after being pursued by the castle's garrison, which was entirely composed of cavalry.
Whenever such news reached them, the vassals laughed heartily with joy. This was because their ancestors had accumulated many deep-seated resentments from constant plundering, large and small.
If anything, it was Eugene's army that was carrying out rear-area disruption. The central nobles had achieved a great victory against the Western Army and even confiscated their food supplies. They felt safe from that direction.
But then the Southern Army, appearing out of nowhere at King's Field, occupied the empty mid-western territories. Upon receiving word that their families had been seized and their manor houses ransacked, the vassals of the Kruger family were thrown into great turmoil.
On the other hand, the morale of the Southern Army, riding high on a string of victories and with their pockets grown fat from easy plunder, soared to the heavens.
"Plunder is limited to the manor house. Do not touch the residents; there is no money to be had from them anyway. This is not a simple civil war. Under the names of Meyer and Philamor, we are rebuilding order in Britannia."
Eugene used his honor as a pretext to control the nobles under his command.
-Aaaagh!
-I was blinded by greed for riches! I beg you for mercy...
Once a few mercenary squad leaders who disobeyed underwent flogging and cried out in agony, and one debt-ridden noble was expelled from the muster and sent back to his fief, order became firmly established.
In truth, even for Eugene, this was a rather precarious course of treatment. Because the right to plunder enemy territory during a war was a custom that not even a noble could arbitrarily control.
This control was only possible because Eugene's authority had reached its peak and even supplies and meals were abundant. The body of the Tyrant exhibited in the camp also played a major role.
"Your Excellency. Is there truly a need to go this far?"
Haind asked cautiously.
Whenever the vassals had a matter that was burdensome to bring up to Eugene directly, they would indirectly convey it through Haind.
He was Eugene's closest confidant, yet also human. Moreover, he was a knight possessing an aristocratic way of thinking. As an intermediary, he was the best.
"It is all necessary work. Is there much discontent?"
"I would not call it discontent so much as worry. They say that though the soldiers follow you well now, if the atmosphere turns sour later, the accumulated resentment might burst out."
"That's not wrong."
In the current winning streak with high morale, he could issue even harsher commands. But military strategy must always assume poor conditions.
"I have no intention of changing the policy. Driving out the Kruger family and embracing the native nobles will be far more difficult than when we took the south."
"That is because the central families are the nobles most deeply assimilated with the foreign tribes from across the sea."
The situation would be different from that of the southern nobles, who had been easily integrated under Varda's bloodline and Eugene's cause.
"Nobles bound by blood ties and vested interests won't come over easily just because I treat them leniently. If that's the case, even securing the support of the common people would make things easier afterward."
Eugene did not merely refrain from plundering. He was also subjugating bandits and monsters running rampant in the chaos of war, and dispensing charity like food aid. All under his name and flag.
-May God's blessing be with Your Excellency!
Even priests whose silver utensils and chalices had been requisitioned shed tears of gratitude for Eugene's donations.
"Bestowing charity is a virtue, but what power do serfs and priests have? They aren't going to join Your Excellency's army and fight."
Haind's words were not wrong, either. His lord's actions were honorable, and the voices of praise rising from all over filled Haind with pride. Yet, this was wartime.
"I don't expect them to fight. It wouldn't be much help anyway. But when there's suspicious plotting or army movements, they could at least tip me off."
"Ah, there is that sort of thing too."
"Sometimes a single person's tongue determines the battlefield more than hundreds of soldiers. Can you tell me my ruling motto?"
"Entrust them with the tasks they can do."
The words Eugene said like a habitual remark were firmly engraved in Haind's mind.
"Excellent."
Eugene smiled brightly. By the time this civil war was over, there would be many lordless fiefs throughout Britannia.
And Haind was a knight exceptionally faithful to noblesse oblige. Through their time together, he had been honed into a noble who perfectly suited Eugene's taste.
Since there were many places for Eugene to both rule and roam, he needed many new, reliable families in central Britannia. Haind was a man fit to stand at the forefront of them.
If Haind's father in Roman had heard Eugene's inner thoughts, he would probably have thrown both arms toward the sky and cheered.
* * *
Eugene's army, having gnawed, torn at, and savored the ownerless mid-west, gradually began battle preparations.
"From here on, battle will commence."
The vassal serving as chief of staff pointed at the map.
The main army led by King Kruger was locked in a standoff with the forces of the eastern great lord, the Harvester family.
Before a proper head-on clash could occur, Eugene had passed through King's Field and struck them from the rear in the west.
If they tried to hurriedly swing their army back, Count Harvester would not miss the opportunity. Since ancient times, there is nothing as deliciously tempting as striking the rear of a retreating army.
But if Eugene pushed in any further, King Kruger would also be forced to make a decision. Even if his vassals' unrest grew greater over their lands being trampled, the end result would be the same: the army would collapse anyway.
"We will wait here and observe the situation. There is no need to exhaust our strength beforehand. We will first wait for the food supplies promised by the Harvester family."
"That is a wise judgment."
The vassals were relieved that Eugene acted purely out of practicality, without being swayed by hot blood or vainglory.
Because he was so young and his valor on the battlefield was so tremendous, they had been worried he might order an advance without warning.
The manor house of a central noble who had been mustered and left his domain vacant became Eugene's temporary residence.
"Thank you."
Eugene took Homi's hand, which had been helping him remove his armor, and pressed it to his cheek.
"How can hands this soft produce such destructive power?"
"..."
Homi's fists and kicks that smashed the skulls of orcs were terrifying. Not just fighting well, but moving through the combat space in three dimensions and supporting the knights.
The knights who had wondered why a beastkin girl was Eugene's squire immediately began treating her with respect.
But the person in question quietly withdrew her hand even at her lord's admiration.
"Are you embarrassed by your stone fist?"
To Eugene's surprised face, Homi gave a small nod. The sunlight coming through the window behind the office made the reddish glow upon her healthy complexion stand out.
As Eugene's squire and highest-ranking retainer, Homi had always pursued only diligence and competence. But recently, she had begun to take an interest in feminine charm.
Having followed Eugene as he rose as the southern administrator and interacted with various noble ladies, and having watched Varda beside her as she became a newlywed, it was impossible for her not to be influenced.
-Oh my! That dress suits you so perfectly.
-...
-Whose idea was the ribbon tied on your tail? His Excellency the Count's? Is that true? Goodness! How attentive he must be!
A fist that could kill a monster in one blow was far removed from femininity.
"Being strong is nothing to be ashamed of. If you tell them stories of your valor, the young ladies would look at you with sparkling eyes. A noblewoman's life is surprisingly boring, after all."
And besides, Homi was even beautiful. Someone who is strong and beautiful captivates regardless of gender.
"You'd be surprised if you knew just how much the young knights talk about you."
Swish.
At Eugene's praise, Homi's fluffy tail sprang up.
"I care nothing for the gazes of others. It's just that, from you..."
Homi's downcast eyes and the latter half of her words were cut off by the day's restrictions. But what those words meant was something even a fool could guess.
Within the warm sunlight, on the eve of a great battle, the knight and his squire spent a peaceful moment.
{@PIC:759992}
> > The End
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