War of Rage (5)
War of Rage (5)
Kray did not step forward first himself. He yielded the chance to fight to the knights who had come with him.
"That is unexpected. With the kind of boldness that makes him charge in fearlessly and demand a duel, I thought he would put himself forward first."
"Probably for the same reason as you, Your Excellency. He's simple enough to have earned the nickname Headbutting Knight, but he knows how to consider other people's feelings."
Baron Lester spoke as he watched the enemy camp busily preparing for the duels.
No matter how brave Kray might be, he could not come alone and demand a duel. If he did, he would be beaten with clubs and trussed up tightly.
Eugene was the master of Haven, the largest city in Britannia, the son-in-law of the legendary elven royal family, and administrator of the south.
Kray, too, had to appear with a certain level of nobles and troops to be granted the standing to ask for anything.
Before setting out, he had needed to recruit friends, vassals, and knights burning with desire for honor. He had stepped back first in order to secure their share of the glory.
"Have you ever spoken with that fellow?"
"Die. Fight me. Remove your archers. Let us fight as knights."
Baron Lester shrugged his shoulders.
"If you count that as a conversation, then yes. I met him once on the battlefield."
"He seems a man far removed from stratagems."
"Ha ha! He is living proof of the importance of education. He is one of the few in the Kruger family who will gladly offer his hand."
The other vassals held a similar opinion.
"I have exchanged words with him a few times at dueling trials."
"He does seem the sort to enjoy a duel trial."
"Ah! They were not his own trials; he went as an observer for other men's trials. He has often served as a representative as well."
If Benjamin of Morad attended as an observer for the sake of mediation and harmony, Kray attended because he held the duel itself sacred.
When a verdict was reached, he served as an impartial witness and was well-liked. In the case of the poor or the weak, he would sometimes lend them weapons or armor.
'A fine son from a lousy father.'
Smiling softly, Eugene looked back and forth at the knights on both sides who were deciding their order, then tilted his head slightly.
As if she had perceived her husband's inner thoughts, Varda whispered.
"Do you not trust them?"
"It would be a lie if I said I felt no unease."
Even the serfs of the south, if they were to place wagers on this contest, would bet on the opposing side rather than their own lord. Even if one selected only tournaments and martial melees large and small, the difference between the two regions was three- or fourfold.
With the exception of a few border lords, including Baron Lester, as warriors they were thoroughly untrustworthy, whatever their merits as commanders.
"To speak honestly, I think nothing bad will come of it even if the southern knights lose."
"It is a fight staked on honor, and you say losing is acceptable?"
"Matters like this are only entertainment in the end. They cannot affect the greater trend."
"Knights and soldiers will lose heart before the real battles, though."
"Once you ride out on Might and swing that enormous axe a few times, it will all be restored to normal."
An army's morale is something that rides on momentum, and once it falls, it is not easily restored.
But in Varda's eyes, Eugene was not a being bound by such common sense. No matter how dispirited a force was, he possessed something that could ignite them in an instant.
"In this duel, the southern nobles will once more realize your importance. Magpies who have climbed onto a tiger's back had better not mistake themselves for black vultures, after all."
"That seems a little harsh."
"Not at all. I can see it all."
Unlike Eugene, who wore a wry smile, Varda was entirely serious. Her expression was a fearsome one that seemed to say, 'I had been wanting to tighten discipline around here just about now, and this has worked out well.'
* * *
Like those of Gord, the knights of Britannia were not skilled in horsemanship. To begin with, usable warhorses were a rarity in the region.
This was even more pronounced in the central region. Only a very few, including Kray, who had studied abroad in Roman, could fully perform the role of shock cavalry.
Most knights mounted their horses only for movement and pursuit of routing enemies; in ordinary battle, they dismounted and functioned as infantry knights. The duels were no different.
"They look unbearably arrogant."
The central knights who had come with Kray stared at the other side as if they found them an eyesore.
"They are not men to be dismissed entirely. That Baron Lester there beside the count is like a single sheepdog among a flock of sheep."
"But is he not still a dog? When wolves charge in..."
"He is a dog that has tasted wolf's meat many times. Do not let down your guard."
The knights made an effort to memorize Lester's face. If Kray, a man of such pride, spoke this well of him, then surely he must be a remarkable knight.
And so, the first combatants from each side came forward: a central knight wielding an axe, and a southern knight bearing an arming sword.
"Can you fight alone? If you'd like, I'll be lenient enough to let you station a single longbowman behind you."
"The filthy half-breed spawn prattles on well enough. I shall cut that wagging tongue out for you."
The moment Eugene saw the central knight draw near, he felt this would not be easy. The marks of years upon the man's equipment alone were different.
The haft of the axe was wrapped with bandages to absorb sweat and prevent slipping. A metal guard not usually present had been fitted to the shaft, and it was covered in countless nicks.
Across all the central knight's gear, these traces of age were visible, each piece refined little by little through countless battles to suit his own style.
By contrast, the southern knight wore expensive equipment, but it was merely immaculate.
"To Valhalla!"
"For honor."
With their respective battle cries, their weapons clashed.
The southern knight deflected the fierce axe blows that flew at him from the start with fluid swordsmanship. For a while, he even managed to hold the advantage.
But then the central knight grinned and aggressively employed unarmed techniques and his shield, and in an instant the lines of the southern knight's swordplay became disordered.
Thud!
The axe blade smashed into the southern knight's arm and bloodied links of mail fell away.
"Yield."
"What talk of surrender for a little scraped skin!"
When they clashed again and the fight continued for nearly ten more exchanges, the two became a single mass and rolled across the ground.
With superior grappling technique, the central knight took his opponent's back, hooked the axe haft against his neck, and locked it in place with both arms.
"Gurk!"
The southern knight caught in the choke struggled, but it was useless. When one did not know the counters, ground techniques were simply something one suffered through.
"Enough! Release him!"
"Cough, cough, cough!"
At Kray's shout, the southern knight was freed and broke into violent coughing.
'Was he counting, by any chance?'
Eugene had noticed Kray's lips moving slightly after the choke began, and had wondered what he was murmuring. Thinking back now, Kray had likely been calculating the time to prevent death by asphyxiation.
"You have splendidly commemorated the first victory, so return now. There are many other knights who hunger for honor besides you."
The central knight, who could have fought on, wore a dissatisfied expression, but he complied with Kray's words.
In the second match, a massively-built central knight wielding a two-handed pole axe faced a southern knight with a longsword.
"Raaagh!"
The axe blade, a size larger than the common sort, sliced menacingly through the air. The southern knight did not dare receive the blows but dodged and sought an opening to thrust his sword.
But his blade glanced off the iron haft. A counter-thrust from the axe head took his balance and he fell.
Whoom!
The pole axe made one full revolution above the central knight's head. It soared high into the sky, then plunged down with the full force of gravity.
"D-danger!"
The onlookers cried out, certain they were about to see a death.
Crunch!
The axe blade bit into the shield, slicing the back of the southern knight's hand so that blood poured out.
"Will you yield?"
"Before His Excellency? Fuck that!"
With the second axe blow sweeping in without mercy, the knight raised his trembling shield once more.
WHAM!
"Guh!"
The shield, driven down by the overwhelming impact, slammed into the knight's upper body.
The central knight recovered his axe, holding it reversed. With the match already half-decided, he had struck with the axe head side after all.
Cheers burst out from Kray's camp, while a rigid silence hung over Eugene's camp.
"He's an enemy, but that was remarkably merciful."
"For the south, however, it is humiliation."
Eugene stroked his chin as if surprised, and Baron Lester let out a sigh.
'What disgrace is this before His Excellency!'
It had been only two fights, but they were battles that exposed the disparity in skill and experience between the two sides.
Though it is said that duels between knights are greatly influenced by the day's condition and luck, there was a certainty that these two fights would yield the same outcome no matter how many times one repeated them on different days.
"I will step forward."
After two more consecutive defeats, Baron Lester seemed to judge that things could not go on this way and took up his sword.
"Your Excellency. I shall show those arrogant foes the sword of a border knight. Please, give me this chance!"
"My lord. We are here as well. We have yielded plenty as it is. Would you not begin sending out the real swordsmen now?"
Haind and the tribal knights, not to be outdone, also petitioned to join the fight. Among them was even one who showed his paired blades to Eugene.
It seemed as though he was appealing, 'I promise a magnificent spectacle, so please!'
"Put the urumi away. Do you mean to turn the stage into a sea of blood?"
"W-well, I suppose that is true?"
There was also a tribal knight who had brought an assassination weapon and was now hearing a reprimand from Rex.
"Here stands Conrad, and I challenge Count Meyer! Let us see who is Britannia's greatest flail master!"
"What an impudent wretch!"
But the knight who emerged as the fifth from the opposing side was the very one who had been provoking Eugene.
In principle, it was true that in a setting such as this, any knight possessed the right to challenge any other.
However, to provoke in such a manner despite the enormous gap in their respective stations was not a matter to be passed over lightly.
"That damned bastard..."
Kray was furious that Conrad had beaten him to it and challenged Eugene on his own.
But Conrad was from the wealthiest family in the central region. Even during the civil war, he had contributed vast war funds to King Kruger, and thus his influence was formidable.
He was not a knight whom Kray, who was not even the heir, could chastise as he pleased.
"Homi. Would you bring me my weapon? If he desires it so openly, I ought to oblige him."
Seeing that Eugene intended to face the man himself, Kray was crestfallen.
The situation was governed by the tacit rule that each man would fight once. Eugene's chance to meet Kray in single combat had vanished.
"That man is Count Meyer!"
When Eugene appeared, properly armed, exclamations of admiration escaped the central knights.
It was a body where enormous bulk and agility coexisted perfectly, as if a tiger were walking upright.
"What in the world is that armor...?"
Moreover, the full-body armor, which called to mind a viper, was a kind they had never seen nor heard of before. Though he had not yet fought, the instincts of all present were wildly broadcasting danger signals.
The large flail, with three mace heads linked together, jangled.
"Tch."
Conrad had always possessed an unusual pride in his own flail, but he admitted that today, more than ever, it looked shabby.
It was Eugene who moved first.
Whoom! Whoom! Whoom!
He swung the chain above his head like a propeller, and a savage, rending sound shook the entire dueling ground.
Then he struck downward. Eugene held back in his blows, but Conrad felt as though a black lightning bolt had fallen upon him.
KRAAANG!
When he narrowly dodged, shards of shattered stone flew up from the ground. Eugene flicked the tip of the two-handed shaft and turned the rebound toward Conrad.
WHAM!
In a single exchange, Conrad lost his shield and went tumbling over and over.
Covered in dust, he staggered to his feet, but the cluster of mace heads was already flying toward him.
Charreureuk!
Unable to be dragged along like this, Conrad clenched his teeth. He swung his flail in response, and the two chains coiled around each other and tangled.
His face turning crimson, Conrad pulled with both hands, but Eugene, gripping his with one hand, did not budge a hair.
"Aaaagh!"
At last, when Eugene pulled with all his strength, Conrad was dragged along as if flying through the air. He looked as though he had been launched from an invisible small catapult.
WHAM!
Having flown to him, Conrad was kicked in the abdomen by Eugene's soccer kick and went rolling in the opposite direction.
Thud!
Conrad, trembling on all fours, was struck at the back of the head by the cluster of mace heads and went limp.
He had tried to hold back as much as possible, but his helmet was caved in, and he seemed to have taken quite a shock.
His squire hastily declared his defeat and saw to the unconscious Conrad. Dragged away with the squire's arms hooked under both armpits, Conrad had twin streams of blood running steadily from his nose.
'Had I gone too far?'
Eugene had a moment of belated regret, but when the despondent southern camp erupted in cheers, he let it go, figuring a good outcome was a good outcome.
"I shall step forward!"
After that, the tribal knights, including Haind and Luden, won in quick succession, and then Kray came forward.
It was because the early momentum they had seized with their string of victories was being completely undone, and the tide was now overwhelmingly against them.
"Was that Hydra leather?"
"It's been over a thousand years since a Hydra was last hunted, though."
Realizing that the knights who had routed them were Hydra Slayers, an air of respect rather than resentment began to settle over them.
It would have been a beautiful sight under normal circumstances, but things were different with a great battle that would decide Britannia's history looming ahead.
Kray called out Eugene as his opponent but was refused.
"His Excellency Meyer says that since he has already taken the field once, he cannot face you. He says it is an unspoken rule, but a rule is a rule nonetheless."
"Damn it."
Had it been any other knight, he would have provoked Eugene by calling him a coward and tried to fight him somehow, but Kray bit his lip and accepted it.
Since they had won in the early rounds and continuously swapped out their knights, it was practically them who had proposed the rule. They could not overturn it now.
"Instead, the Count's sole squire offers to step forward. She is the second-strongest warrior in House Meyer and the one who spars with His Excellency the most. Will you accept the challenge?"
"I accept, of course! Convey my thanks to the Count for his consideration!"
Kray replied, his disappointment turning to elation. It was a shame not to face the Count himself, but this too was a great honor.
* * *
"Kray Kruger. A knight who has won two tournaments and slain a troll."
"Homi. I follow Knight Eugene."
"???"
"..."
"Is that all?"
Kray was puzzled by Homi's brief introduction. Though she was a squire, the fearsome aura she exuded made it immediately clear she was no ordinary person.
But Homi was sincere. To her, things like what monsters one had slain held little value.
Being granted the place closest to Eugene—that, for her, was the greatest pride and honor.
"Say something at least!"
"Sir Kray. Homi is under something akin to a curse and cannot speak more than a word a day. I ask for your understanding."
"Is that so! If I seemed rude, please accept my apology!"
With a hearty nod, Kray raised his weapon. Homi likewise lifted the combat gauntlets fitted on both hands.
'The same armor as Count Meyer.'
Armor patterned like a viper, which just by looking at it seemed to claw at a mammal's very instincts, enveloped the beautiful lady's body.
"I shall come at you first! Show me if your skill is worthy of that precious armament..."
CLANG!
Sparks flew as the longsword in Kray's hand was sent flying far away and embedded itself in the ground.
In Homi's hands were two shotels, drawn at some unknown moment. They were far more grotesquely curved than standard ones.
Clench.
Kray tightened his trembling grip.
'What kind of monstrous strength is this?'
Eugene's absurd power was gradually beginning to be rumored across Britannia. But nothing was known about his squire.
"Grrr."
Pointing at the fallen longsword, Homi tilted her head with a slight nod.
What came from her mouth was the growl of a leopard, but Kray understood it to mean, 'Pick it up.'
"Sir!"
Catching the longsword his squire tossed to him, Kray's fighting spirit blazed anew.
"There will be no carelessness this time!"
"Heh."
Covering her mouth with the back of the hand holding the shotel, Homi laughed.
Swish!
Her tail swayed coquettishly as if in response.
It was a smile Homi had tried to model after Varda's, but with about ninety percent haughtiness in place of elegance, Kray took it as pure provocation.
Yet for some reason, Kray did not find it unpleasant. He simply thought it was beautiful.
The ancient swordsmanship learned at the knight's house unfolded from Kray's blade, but Homi did not bother to parry, evading him lightly instead.
His competitive spirit stoked, Kray pressed even harder. After constraining Homi's movements with several setup attacks, he delivered a lethal downward strike.
CLANG!
The longsword was caught between the two shotels. Their blades were of a dark rare metal, and the hilts were made from Hydra bone.
"Ngh!"
Kray pulled with all his might, but the longsword did not budge an inch. Homi's eyes narrowed.
CLANG!
Pressured on both of its vulnerable flat sides, the longsword snapped cleanly in two.
"A sword!"
While Kray quickly retreated and received a sword from his squire, Homi did not pursue.
She waited patiently and sent a smile toward Eugene. There was not even a trace of the haughtiness she had shown when looking at Kray.
She was emulating the chivalry her master had shown Lipton during the Hall War.
"An enemy, but admirable."
"She is different from the southern lot."
The knights of the central region also admired her. Giving an opponent time to pick up their weapon again during a duel was a virtue, but one rarely upheld.
When the fight resumed, it was Homi who pressed fiercely this time.
'Can a human body even make a sword move along a path like that?'
Kray was pushed back the entire time by the bizarre blades assailing him from all directions.
Fft.
Blood spattered from Kray's cheek, which had never once been wounded in any bloody battle.
"What swordsmanship is that? Has anyone heard of it?"
"To deliver such a slash from that posture!"
The watching knights were astonished as well.
Even though swordsmanship schools varied, there were certain constraints that could not be escaped as long as they originated from a human hand.
But Homi's blades tore through Kray's space as if ignoring such things entirely.
"Give me a shield!"
The central knights were shocked to see the strongest knight they knew being pushed onto the defensive.
It was even a shameful sight, asking one's squire for a different weapon in the middle of a fight.
But to Kray, giving the opponent before him everything he had mattered more than the wound to his pride. She was not someone he could handle with a sword alone.
However, even the dueling shield he had just obtained did not last long.
As the two blades of the shotels slashed wildly, splinters of wood flew in every direction.
Bam!
Seizing an opening, he struck with the shield to shove Homi back and break her balance, but she did not fall.
It was because her long, thick tail pressed against the ground, bracing her as she tipped backward.
"Whoa!"
Amid the exclamations of those around her, using the recoil of her tail like a spring, Homi landed on the ground as light as a feather.
"That tail was not merely for beauty, I see."
At Kray's praise, Homi elegantly offered a bow, folding her arms like a butler.
At that sight, Kray momentarily forgot he was even in combat and almost dropped his stance. But the next instant, faced with her fierce, flashing eyes, he raised his shield first.
Shk!
A corner of the top of the shield was sliced clean off.
Lightly deflecting the longsword that flew at her as if in counterattack, Homi swung both shotels simultaneously.
Crack.
Crack.
The curved blades bit into the top and bottom of the shield. From beyond the shield, Kray witnessed Homi's chromium-like eyes narrowing.
In that moment, goosebumps erupted all over his body. Kray felt like a moth caught in the forelegs of a mantis.
Crrrunch.
The shotel blades crossed each other, cleaving the shield in two, and a kick that flew in from a blind spot slammed into Kray's abdomen, sending him flying.
"Guhk."
Amid the pain, he managed to rise somehow and level his sword, only to realize his sword had been broken yet again.
'When in the world...?'
Like rolling a coin, Homi rolled the broken blade over her fingers. She reached Kray with a gait that resembled a slithering snake.
Clatter.
The blade dropped between the legs of Kray, who had yet to stand up, and the noise grated horribly on his nerves.
"Grrr."
Homi's feet, which had been planted steadily on the earth, rose up as if she were standing on tiptoe. Her nose twitched and her long tongue flickered.
It was because, at some point, she had begun detecting the rush of adrenaline flooding Kray's body, thick even in the blood running down his face.
The taste of fear itself!
Homi's figure, which had felt like a giant mantis, reverted to that of a predator craving flesh.
The memories of nature she had gained by killing the Forest Spirit and taking its heart had taught Homi more than combat techniques.
They had also taught her how to find and savor the delicacies of battle, like a sommelier appreciating wine.
"I have lost."
When Homi sheathed her shotels and extended her hand, Kray, who had been staring as if entranced, grasped it firmly.
"Sir Homi."
Shake, shake.
A gesture declaring she was not a knight. Recalling that she held the rank of squire, Kray wore an expression of disbelief.
"You are already an excellent knight. In both skill and pride. So why does the Count not grant you the accolade... Mmmph!"
Homi pressed her gauntleted index finger to the indignant Kray's lips.
It was partly because she was content with her squire status, but also because she had sensed the presence of an uninvited guest.
Grrrr-.
Might, who had been lying flat on his belly, also rose and bared his teeth.
"What is that? A monster?!"
"No, the form doesn't look like that, though..."
A single knight mounted on a great warhorse had intruded into the dueling ground. But this knight was far from ordinary in many ways.
The horse armor, a combination of rusted iron and rotted heraldry, was completely empty inside. It was as if a ghost in the shape of a horse had donned the barding. Only two red eyes, glowing with an eerie aura, shone like will-o'-the-wisps.
The heavily armored rider mounted atop it had no neck. Nothing but black smoke wafted from the dark cross-section.
"A Dullahan!"
At Varda's cry, the knights around her were horrified.
"What kind of monster is that? It looks like a Death Knight."
"A Dullahan is closer to a spirit than to an undead creature."
In answer to Eugene's question, Varda pointed at the Dullahan's warhorse.
"It is a being born from a knight chosen by special divine beasts, like a unicorn, bicorn, or pegasus. Whether they rise as undead after death or transform in some other way is unknown."
"Huh?"
"The master of such a divine beast is invariably a warrior who harbors mystery within himself. It is an existence created by the intertwined fate of the two bound as one."
Eugene felt a sense of déjà vu at Varda's words. Might, too, seemed to feel the same, as he was looking at Eugene.
"Why has such a creature come here?"
"A Dullahan pair yearns for what it does not have. The rider, its lost head. The warhorse, its lost body."
The Dullahan was staring at Homi's head, and the ghost steed at Might's body.
Looking closely, what the Dullahan wore was armor for a woman. The armor, tracing elegant curves, was cinched like an hourglass. The hips were curvaceous, and the chest swelled out abundantly.
[■■■■.]
An unknown ancient tongue flowed from the Dullahan's neck. Joy was contained within it.
It was the joy of finding something it had searched for over countless long years.
Click.
The ghost steed took a single step toward Homi.
Snap!
Homi's tail stood straight up. It was because a pressure even more intense than when the giant boar had charged her in Kingdom's End overwhelmed her.
End
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