Chapter 20: Champion (3)
Chapter 20: Champion (3)
Eugene spent the remaining days resting under lavish hospitality.
Naturally, the knights who had not been chosen felt their pride wounded.
"Sir Galia! Please, calm yourself!"
"Shut your mouth. Is this where Sir Eugene resides?"
It was hardly surprising that some of the rejected knights came looking for Eugene, shoving aside anyone who tried to stop them and demanding a duel.
The city did its best to restrain them, but a formal challenge was considered a knight's honorable right and could not simply be forbidden. A knight's heated blood could only be cooled by another knight.
The real problem was that this contest between champions was being administered by a mere free city, without the authority of a powerful noble lord to keep the knights in line.
"I trust that a true knight will not refuse a rightful challenge! I came to defend this city and win glory, not to stuff myself with bread!"
"Hah."
The challenger, drunk on honor, could see nothing amiss, but from Eugene's perspective, it was a nuisance. And of all moments to barge in, it was while he was being shaved — which made it all the more irritating.
"I bear the future of this city and the hopes of those who invited me. To endanger that, even slightly, for private vainglory is not an honorable thing."
"W-well, that is..."
Even the challenger had no answer when Eugene declined on honorable grounds.
"I am in the middle of a shave, so I would appreciate it if you took your leave."
Eugene was reclining in the shaving chair. Homi, who had been carefully lathering and shaving his beard, held up the razor and frowned.
The challenger, seeming to realize he had committed a discourtesy, withdrew for the time being.
"They're a spirited lot, aren't they?"
"Hmph!"
Homi stroked her lord's now-clean cheek with a dissatisfied expression.
"My hair too, please. Important guests will be coming from all over, so I should look presentable."
Homi nodded.
Having finished the shave, Homi picked up the scissors. Ever since fate had brought them together, Eugene's beard and hair had always been groomed by her hands.
Her hands were larger than an ordinary woman's yet still slender. Hands both skillful and strong. The only hands he trusted to hold a blade to his own throat.
Since there were multiple invited knights, the visits continued the following day as well.
Press. Press.
"Sir Knight, are you not in pain?"
It was when Eugene and Homi were lying side by side, receiving a massage.
"It just feels good. Of everything the city has done for us, this might be my favorite."
"Hee hee."
The maid smiled softly at how smoothly the words rolled off the knight's tongue.
Just then, a thunderous cry shattered the mood.
"I am Gart, knight of House Doman! I cannot accept being left out as a champion! Face me right now and—"
"Yes, yes, I'll deal with you."
Yet not every visitor was an unwelcome guest.
"Sir Karas? You were invited as well?"
"Yeah. And I decided on my own to act as that knight's champion. If you want to challenge him, you can fight me instead."
"No, wait just a—"
Thanks to Karas, Eugene could rest in comfort.
"Our first meeting had its complications, but he's a good fellow."
Eugene smiled with satisfaction.
Kresi, who would have been seen as the easiest mark, had vanished from the mansion entirely, presumably to avoid challenges.
'All the knights who came looking seem stronger than Kresi.'
Homi spoke in sign language.
"It can't be helped. Look at those hardheads. Every one of them is stubborn and convinced he's the best. If you told men like that, 'A VIP has arrived, so step aside,' they'd cause an uproar."
Regardless of who was stronger, they would draw their swords on the spot and demand a duel. That was the nature of the creature called a knight.
'You could just fight it out and let the stronger one go.'
Having lived in the mountains, Homi was accustomed to the law of beasts where the strong became the leader.
"The city has its own considerations. It's too complicated a place for such a simple solution."
Around that time, the fight outside was decided.
"I am defeated!"
Karas moved swiftly, raining down fierce attacks before locking his opponent's weapon with his main-gauche at the decisive moment. The knight was helpless against the dazzling twin-blade technique.
Guests brimming with fighting spirit continued to arrive after that.
"I am Detri, knight of the Balmon family..."
"Balmon of the Zweihander? A pleasure! I've long wished to cross swords with you someday."
"No, Sir, who are you?"
And Karas promptly intercepted every one of them.
His swordsmanship was not his only strength. At just the right moments, he seamlessly worked gauntleted punches and kicks into his attacks.
Wham!
"Ugh!"
Detri took the iron fist in the ribs. The breath burst from his lungs, and he lost his balance.
For Detri, who wielded a large two-handed sword, the moment his first attack missed, defeat was all but certain. He was forced into an unfamiliar, point-blank melee with Karas, who had closed in instantly.
"I-I am defeated!"
Before Detri could properly demonstrate his skill, Karas slipped behind him with a hand-to-hand maneuver and laid the edge of his main-gauche against his throat.
"He's in a class of his own among the invited knights."
Karas's overflowing confidence was no mere bluster. It befitted a knight who had built his renown on duels alone.
Karas played to the applause with exaggerated gestures while a flushed maid wiped the sweat from him with a towel.
It seemed it was not simply goodwill toward Eugene, but also that he was genuinely enjoying his hobby. The rumors that he was kind to those beneath him and prickly toward fellow knights proved true.
After several days of rest and careful treatment to keep them in peak condition, the Hall War was finally only one day away.
Just as hopes for victory ran high in Bonyard, the nobles of the Gord kingdom were likewise certain of their own triumph.
"Watching them fight every year to shave a little more off the tribute has been irritating as hell. I'm glad we finally get to teach them a lesson."
The host, Andar, laughed as he raised his cup.
"We muscular merchants ought to teach those pig merchants what penny-wise and pound-foolish really means!"
The nobles, gathered at the banquet the day before, laughed and caroused as though they had already won.
"Though we cannot yet declare our victory certain."
"Bah, what is there to worry about? It is but a single city at best. And one that has been frantically running its feet off everywhere at that."
"That is true."
Even the cautious nobles were merely restraining excessive excitement; they did not doubt the victory itself. The disparity in preparation time and capacity between the two sides was that great.
"The King of Roman has done us a wonderful favor."
Most royal houses merely borrowed legitimacy from the Ancient Kingdom, but Roman, at the center of the continent, had gone a step further.
Roman had placed the Ancient Kingdom's principle of the 'Duty of Balance' on the very first page of its law code and used it to justify influence in every direction.
"Whenever a fight breaks out, they stick their noses in and lecture everyone. Then they claim monster hordes are running rampant, raise an army on their own, and demand permission to cross somebody else's border."
To the Gord nobles, with the blood of raiders in their veins, Roman could only be a hated enemy that interfered at every turn.
"There should be a limit to how much they meddle. Aren't they a damned eyesore? And the worst part is that they really are strong."
Yet the strength of Roman, which shared a border with them, was impossible to ignore. However irritating the kingdom was, its fist was too dangerous to challenge lightly.
Then an upheaval changed everything.
The King of Roman abruptly proclaimed an empire and threw the country into turmoil. Taking the imperial title, he began strengthening the throne's authority. To the Roman nobles who had enjoyed a peaceful status quo, it was a bolt from the blue.
Seizing upon that chaos, every faction scrambled for advantage, and the sparks flew as far as Bonyard on the continent's periphery.
"All right, everyone. To the King of Roman—no, I suppose we should call him Emperor now. To the Emperor of Roman!"
"A toast!"
Andar raised his cup, and the others enthusiastically joined the toast.
"Still, I do wonder why he suddenly proclaimed himself emperor."
"Legitimacy. He only became king because his elder brothers conveniently died one after another—some of illness, others while away from home. The great nobles tormented him so badly that he finally snapped and made this gamble."
"They say the country is already on the verge of civil war. At the last royal audience, someone shouted 'You traitors!' no fewer than six times."
Every kingdom and free city, every mercenary and knight, was watching the center of the continent.
If a large-scale war broke out in Roman, gains and losses would multiply everywhere, along with opportunities for honor and advancement.
"Surely he won't back down? The ruler of a nation could not possibly have so little nerve."
"Absolutely not."
"He'll either crush every opponent and rise as a hegemon, or he'll be deposed. Those are the only two possibilities. Backing down is out of the question."
The mantle of heir to the Ancient Kingdom carried enormous weight on this continent. Apart from foreign peoples, no one had dared claim the title of emperor. For Roman to do so mattered all the more.
"Good, good. Now we may enjoy tomorrow's battle with easy minds."
The champions prepared by the Gord nobles were knights renowned throughout the kingdom for their valor.
When men of that race's characteristic robust build donned their armor and swung their axes, a storm of blood arose upon the battlefield.
On foot, they were reapers who could press even the finest knights on the continent. Whoever Bonyard had recruited would fall spraying blood.
The next day, Bonyard's champions made their modest procession toward the dueling ground.
Citizens went about their business, boys called for customers in exchange for pocket money, and shoppers haggled with merchants to save a single coin. Everything looked perfectly ordinary.
Only the city guard, who likewise lived by the sword, and a measure of citizens offered solemn nods and prayers for victory. Their number was scarcely three in ten.
"Is this the usual atmosphere? I had imagined something rather more... supportive."
"There are various circumstances."
At Eugene's question, Panis smiled bitterly.
"The laborers from outside, travelers, and people who live here but own nothing do not feel this has much to do with them. It is not a real war, so they do not expect any looting."
Eugene had considered this much already.
"If we lose, the people at the top of the city will be swept away. Anyone hoping to fill those vacancies is probably burning with ambition right now."
"A grim tale."
"Furthermore, the prevailing belief is that Gord will win."
Part of it was the city's control of information, but the majority of citizens naturally relied on rumor.
"We are one city; they are a coalition of nobles. We have been the cautious side, while they are the ones pressing the attack. To ordinary people, it is obvious which side looks stronger."
"If someone openly cheers for us and we lose, they may have to watch their step afterward."
"Precisely."
Panis gestured toward the citizens who had come to see them off.
"People who have lived here long enough to take real pride in the city, and those who own businesses here, are the ones willing to cheer without worrying about what comes next."
Yet Panis's face, as he laid out these sad truths, was composed. It was because his faith in Eugene and Karas was absolute.
After leaving the city and traveling for roughly two hours, the appointed location came into view. In a Hall War, the party under attack held the right to choose the battlefield.
"There are our opponents. Built like bears, yet somehow their greed is even bigger than their bodies."
True to the reputation of their people, every Gord champion was a huge man.
'I wonder if this is what Roman soldiers felt like facing the Germanic tribes. With men that size, no wonder Gord has survived with Barsia on its northern border.'
Eugene, who had always looked down on his opponents wherever he went, found for the first time men larger than himself.
"That is Sir Volks. The opponent we must be most wary of."
Panis pointed to a giant with a two-handed axe resting on his shoulder.
"I entrust this to you. Please, defend our city."
Panis trusted the hand he had assembled, but he was a merchant by nature. Faced with Gord knights who looked like man-eating bears, instinctive fear crept back in.
"The truly troublesome ones, in truth, are the other two. Lipton I could manage, but I never imagined Badel would come as well."
Karas, his expression troubled, pointed to the two champions behind Volks. One was a knight armed with sword and shield, the other with axe and shield.
"You recognize them at once. They must be men of renown."
"The swordsman is Badel, son of a swordsmanship house with seven hundred years of history. Lipton is famous for having the finest shield technique even in Gord, and Gord is already renowned for its shield-work."
"If you were to fight all three, how would it go?"
Karas shrugged.
"Volks is all or nothing. Either I beat him without a wound after sweating my ass off, or one swing of that axe sends me straight to the underworld."
"He doesn't seem like an opponent with whom one can trade ordinary blows, indeed."
Every axe Eugene had seen at Kingdom's End or while traveling with the Beard Mercenary Company had been a woodcutting axe.
That, by contrast, was an axe forged from the start to cleave men. The blade alone was longer than Eugene's head, and it was honed sharp enough to shave with.
"Against Badel or Lipton, I'm definitely going to bleed. I think I can win, but with bad luck I might lose a finger or two. Those Gord bastards came prepared."
Apart from his pride in his own strength, Karas assessed his odds objectively.
"If you wish, I could switch the order."
"If I backed down here, I wouldn't be a knight. I'll beat all three through sheer grit if I have to."
Unlike Panis, Karas was a knight. He did not take the stage calculating profit or odds. Whether it worked or not, he simply trusted his sword and rose to the challenge.
Knights did not practice religion with the same fervor as priests, but in one sense their faith could run even deeper.
It was faith in pursuing honor with their lives at stake. The depth of that conviction pushed knights toward greater strength, regardless of nation or people.
Eugene's party entered the dueling ground. Today, Bonyard's fate, the knights' lives, and the measure of their glory would all be decided anew.
'The disparity in strength is severe.'
That was Eugene's assessment.
Karas was unquestionably strong enough to stand against any one of Gord's champions, but he was only one man.
Bonyard's other invited knights were clearly a level beneath those four. Had Eugene not been present, defeat would have been certain.