Chapter 22: Champion (5)
Chapter 22: Champion (5)
Volks, who had been a woodcutter, was conscripted at 18 into a territorial war and took five lives with a single axe.
Two were fellow conscripted farmers, one was a mercenary, another a warhorse, and the last was the knight riding it.
Splitting wood was dull labor, but after he realized that splitting people was exhilarating, he left his homeland and became a mercenary.
By the time his axe had broken thirteen times and his kill count passed thirty, Volks received his knighthood.
His manners and refinement were a lost cause. His horsemanship was abysmal, and he lacked any tactical ability to lead soldiers — a knight who fell well short of the standard.
Yet in the land of Gord, strength alone was enough to make everyone look at you through rose-colored glasses, and wherever he went he was treated well.
"If you're going to surrender, say so now. Don't die a miserable death like the last one."
Volks tapped his palm with the haft of his axe as he spoke.
Because he used no shield, he had reinforced his chainmail in several places with iron plates, and combined with his massive frame and two-handed axe, his presence was formidable.
Eugene, holding an iron round shield and a longsword, looked over at Kresi's corpse.
"You could have subdued that knight a moment ago without killing him. Did I see that wrong?"
Volks's strength was more than enough to halt his axe. He might have inflicted a wound or two if he couldn't contain his power, but still.
"What's the point of surrendering once the fight has started? I've never stopped my axe halfway through a swing! Once I swing, I keep pounding until it splits, whether it's wood or a man!"
"I see. Now I understand how you do things."
When Eugene assumed his fighting stance, Volks smiled a savage grin. He had urged surrender with his words, but he had hoped for the opposite.
He believed a warrior's caliber was measured by how much blood he spilled in the arena.
"Hwaaaah!"
Volks came charging with a roar.
It was an imposing sight, but compared with a giant boar's charge, it almost looked cute. Eugene simply stepped aside and avoided the two-handed downswing.
"Go on, keep dodging!"
Volks swung his axe as though he meant to shred everything before him. The great blade carved terrifying arcs through the air, first vertically, then horizontally.
Every opponent he had ever faced met the same end when caught in it. Whether they dodged or blocked, they were pressed further and further into a corner until the moment came when they were split.
But Eugene evaded it all with ease and kept his distance.
"You bastard! How long do you plan to scamper about like a rat?"
Volks's fighting spirit blazed even hotter and he poured on a ferocious assault.
"I-isn't he going to lose, at this rate?"
"I heard he was a direct disciple of Sir Goffrey."
"Panis! What is the meaning of this?!"
At a glance, Volks appeared to be dominating while Eugene was driven back, and groans broke out among the Bonyard spectators.
The only onlookers who kept their composure were Karas, Homi, the opposing champion waiting his turn, and the Gord nobles.
Eugene, meanwhile, was disappointed for a different reason.
'All that effort sharpening my senses, and it's useless.'
Volks's movements were so linear that he suspected he might as well fight with his ears plugged — there would be no difference.
Whoosh!
He dodged the axe blade once more.
"You wretch!"
He had honed his hearing, trying to imitate even a fraction of Goffrey's ability, but it did him no good in actual combat.
Whoosh!
'No matter how much I refine my senses, I can't match my teacher. From now on, I'd be better off just observing the opponent.'
Whoosh!
After the axe continued to miss for quite some time, even the spectators who knew nothing of martial skill began to sense something was wrong.
"Phew."
Panis dabbed away the sweat with his handkerchief and breathed a sigh of relief.
"Hwaaa!"
Volks, too, drew in ragged breaths.
"If you call yourself a knight, then fight me properly!"
"All right."
Eugene knocked the incoming axe upward with his shield.
CLANG!
The opponent who had done nothing but evade now struck back with unimaginable strength, sending the axe soaring high into the air.
"Gngh."
The power behind the shield was so overwhelming that Volks's grip was torn open and blood flowed. He was lucky he hadn't let go of the axe.
Slash.
With the giant's arms thrown overhead, a flash streaked beneath his armpit.
"Gruaaagh!"
Blood poured from Volks's right armpit—far too much for a simple stab wound. It gushed as though a dam had been split open.
CLANG!
The strength drained from his right hand gripping the haft, and the axe head struck the earth.
"W-wait..."
Volks was brutish, but he was no fool. Realizing this was a critical wound requiring immediate attention, he raised his left hand to surrender.
Slash!
Another flash streaked across his now-exposed left armpit.
"Aaaagh!"
Clatter.
The axe tumbled to the ground. The giant, blood streaming from both armpits, thrashed in agony.
"He wooooon!"
"Serves that barbaric brute right!"
The Bonyard spectators, who had been all but dead a moment earlier, sprang back to life.
"Impossible!"
"Volks lost a contest of strength?"
"Damn it! My moneeeeey!"
The Gord side looked flustered. Some who had wagered money were tearing at their hair.
Once the outcome was decided, Volks's squire rushed out at once and dragged his lord to the physician.
The physician shook his head.
But once again, there was nothing that could be done.
"Both arteries have been severed. This is simply hopeless."
"S-save me... please... save... me."
His vitals — heart and lungs — were unharmed, but he had lost too much blood. His lips grew steadily paler and his yellow teeth clattered together.
"I will keep earning honor. Let the next challenger come forth."
Eugene leveled his sword at the Gord champions and spoke in a weighty voice.
He glanced toward Bonyard and saw Homi looking crestfallen. She seemed to long to proclaim her lord's glory in a mighty voice like Volks's squire, and to resent her own throat for leaving her unable to do the same.
Smack!
Karas tried to pat her head in consolation, but Homi knocked his hand away.
"For honor."
Badel, the second champion to step out, aimed his sword at Eugene.
His family was an old western noble house whose roots predated the sea raiders. Unlike other Gord knights, they shunned violence and revered restraint.
"Sir Badel! Give it your all!"
A young lady raised her voice in encouragement.
"Defend the glory of Gord!"
Other spectators answered her, shaking their fists.
Grateful for their sentiment, Badel raised his shield. It was a heater shield, blunt and shaped like an inverted triangle.
'He's dangerous. This man is truly dangerous.'
He possessed strength that overwhelmed even Volks, a sword as swift as light, and movements as fluid as a feather riding the wind.
Every instinct in Badel's body screamed danger. Though he had not yet exerted himself, beads of sweat rolled down his forehead.
Eugene charged first. Having realized that imitating his teacher was pointless, there was nothing left to do but win.
CLANG!
Badel's arming sword and Eugene's longsword crashed together.
As expected, it was Badel alone who lurched wildly. He desperately raised his shield and blocked the second blow.
CRACK!
His thick shield was torn apart in a single stroke.
It did not split in two, but the upper section had been sheared so badly that it dangled from a thin strip. The V-shaped shield had become a W shape.
"Wh-what in the world?"
"Good heavens."
Everyone stared in shock at the impossible destructive force. Count Andar spilled his wine mid-sip, soaking his beard and tunic.
In the meantime, Eugene's third attack came. His iron shield, turned sideways, knocked Badel's sword aside and slammed into his chest.
WHAM!
"Ghk!"
From the feel transmitted through the edge of his shield, Eugene was certain several ribs had cracked.
CLATTER!
Badel lost his sword and went sprawling backward. Shuddering, he reached for the blade, but he did not seem to have the strength even to crawl.
As Eugene strode closer, screams erupted from the Gord spectators.
Grab.
The moment he seized Badel by the scruff of the neck—
"Mercy!"
Someone cried out.
"Sir Badel! No!"
"Knight of Bonyard! Please, have mercy!"
"Do not kill an honorable knight!"
Eugene scanned the Gord spectator seats. Ladies covering their mouths or eyes and men with somber expressions. It was a reaction they had not shown when Volks was carried out bleeding profusely.
"A moment ago, when Kresi died, I looked over at your side."
When Eugene had opened his eyes, Kresi had still been alive for a time.
"He was no close friend, and his attitude of hiding behind others to earn easy coin was wretched. Still, watching a man you once shared a meal with die miserably was far from pleasant."
At that time, he had spotted the only knight in the Gord camp who drew the sign of the cross and mourned the enemy's death. Needless to say, it was Badel.
"The respect you showed him was honorable. Will you admit defeat now?"
"...I have lost."
When Badel accepted, Eugene released him and stepped back.
Immediately, Badel's squire rushed over and took him to the physician.
"We must strip his armor at once and lay him down!"
The physician, who finally had something he could do, set to work with all his skill.
"Victory!"
"Glory to the honorable knight!"
"Long live Sir Eugene!"
Fervent cheers rang from the stands. Unlike after Volks was defeated, a few voices of praise now came from the Gord side as well.
"I'll see this honor through to the very end!"
Eugene raised his sword and declared.
The Gord side, all its earlier bravado gone, quietly sent out its final contestant: Lipton, armed with a shield and one-handed axe.
'I need to attack first!'
Seeing Badel's fight, he knew that going defensive meant certain defeat. Lipton charged the moment the duel began.
He feinted as if striking with his axe, then swung his shield in a surprise attack, but Eugene was not deceived and struck back with his own shield in the same way.
BANG!
When the two shields collided, Lipton alone was sent flying backward.
Thud!
He went sprawling onto the ground, and the shield he had never once dropped on a battlefield slipped from his grasp. Had he lost his axe as well, the humiliation would have been immense.
As Lipton struggled to his feet, his squire swiftly handed him back his shield.
While Eugene waited for his opponent to ready himself to fight again, his chivalry drew applause from all sides.
'Just where did this monster come from?!'
Lipton screamed inwardly.
He was a knight praised for a perfect balance of offense and defense — an iron fortress when defending, and an overwhelming two-weapon assault when attacking.
The number of enemies he had beaten to death with his shield was the highest on the continent!
But none of that mattered if his shield was being smashed apart.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Under Eugene's relentless slashes, Lipton stumbled backward again and again.
The oak round shield reinforced with iron along its rim was reduced to tatters in an instant.
"Guhk!"
Between the shredded remnants of the shield, the back of his hand was deeply gashed and blood poured out.
"Hyaaat!"
He swung his axe desperately with his remaining hand, but a single shield strike sent the axe flying far away.
"I yield."
Lipton conceded defeat before the blade poised at his throat.
"The gods have passed judgment!"
The Roman noble seated at the high dais stepped forward and proclaimed.
"The city of Bonyard has the right to take possession of everything pledged! This is guaranteed by sacred law handed down from antiquity! Whoever dares break this oath shall face the judgment of the gods and suffer in the fires of hell!"
It was common practice for the representative of the witnesses to solemnize the outcome in the name of the gods.
But today's declaration was unusually grandiose. It seemed the drawing of lots had put the Roman noble's personal feelings into it.
'I wonder how things will proceed from here.'
Eugene studied the Gord nobles. Even if it was a sacred duel, they could not help but harbor resentment toward him for stepping forward as champion and humiliating them.
Indeed, he saw some nobles glaring at him and others smacking their lips in displeasure.
"Wahahaha! I've never seen a shield split like that in my life!"
"That's right, my lord."
Meanwhile, one noble was laughing and chatting away: Count Andar, the man who had suggested drawing lots.
'They're taking it better than I expected.'
Count Andar raised a full goblet of wine toward Eugene, then drank it down in great gulps.
"Those Gord fellows, honestly."
"If they weren't that desperate, why go through all this fuss?"
The Bonyard spectators could only stare in disbelief.
'As long as I've earned coin and haven't made an enemy of a powerful noble, that's enough.'
As always, Eugene took things in the best possible light.
They had been quiet when the knights went out to fight. Their victorious return was another matter entirely.
"For the champions who saved the city!"
"Glory to the honorable victors!"
The city guards and the contracted mercenaries were mobilized in full force and stood at attention. They had not even fought on a true battlefield, yet passing through their ranks made him feel like a triumphant general.
The members of the council had also opened their purses. Children waved little flags and cheered, and young women scattered flower petals from baskets.
"I didn't do anything. This is embarrassing."
Only Karas grumbled.
"That's not true. You kept the knights who were pestering me away and helped keep me fresh for the fight."
Eugene said it with a smile, a flower crown some girl had placed on his head.
"Are you teasing me right now?"
"I mean it sincerely."
Karas looked at Eugene and sighed.
"I knew you were a remarkable knight, but apparently my imagination was lacking. You tore through those three like they were conscripts. I'm damn lucky I'm still in one piece after picking a fight with someone like you. I should stop by a temple later and pray."
"Are you joking?"
"I mean that sincerely as well."
It was truly a fight that had yielded much. The reward was one thing, but the city of Bonyard, connected as it was to many countries, was a fine place to seek opportunities for advancement.
Being granted privileges in a place like this—immunity for lesser offenses, the right to travel at night, and the like—mattered a great deal.
But there was one disappointment.
"Since it's not war, it's a pity there's no plunder or ransom. Volks I can let pass, but had we captured Badel or Lipton, their families would have paid handsomely."
Karas looked at Eugene, who was licking his chops, with disbelief.
"You're greedier than you look. Can you not hear those voices extolling your name?"
People everywhere were chanting Eugene's name.
"All-Conquering Knight! All-Conquering Knight!"
"Sir Eugene, please look this way!"
"The All-Conquering Knight of Bonyard!"
All-Conquering Knight was an honorary title bestowed on a knight who single-handedly defeated every opposing champion in a Hall War; at least three victories were required.
Unlike a trial by combat, a Hall War did not arise often, and the difficulty of gathering renowned knights from different regions made the honor hard to attain.
In this confrontation, Karas had entered with bravado, but frankly, defeating all three had been impossible.
"They say he defeated three Gord knights all by himself, one after another."
"Then why does he look so unbothered? He doesn't even seem to have broken a sweat."
"Looks like he didn't take a single hit."
"Is such a thing possible? They say the palms of Gord knights are as big as our faces!"
"That's exactly my point. Do you think those vicious axemen would have groveled before him of their own accord?"
There were quite a few famous paintings depicting the return of an All-Conquering Knight.
A duel fought in place of thousands of lives!
A knight who returned after defeating every enemy by himself!
It was the perfect embodiment of this age's romantic ideal, so of course such images were popular.
And in such heroic epics, the sordid reality was always omitted.
Dented and scratched armor, faces soaked in sweat and exhaustion, disheveled hair, blood-soaked clothes, a severed hand or a missing eye—even men half-dead from grievous wounds being hauled back on carts.
Had there ever been another All-Conquering Knight who returned without shedding a single drop of blood, looking exactly like the figure in a famous painting, as Eugene did?
One thing was certain: this day's spectacle would be remembered forever.
"You're watching closely, yes? You must reproduce this — no, you must render it even more magnificently. Let Sir Eugene's great deeds endure a thousand years hence!"
"Leave it to me, Chief Magistrate. Not even time can touch my brush. Besides, I hardly need to omit or add anything this time."
Panis had spent a great deal to have a Roman Academy-trained painter standing by. He could do so only because he had been certain of victory.
The painter began sketching the All-Conquering Knight returning like a hero amid fervent cheers. The finished work was to be displayed in the most prominent spot in the city's guest mansion.