Chapter 26: Varda (2)
Chapter 26: Varda (2)
"They say bandits are swarming the outskirts of the city in droves. Aren't you worried?"
Gord's threat had been repelled, but the bandit problem still remained.
The city leadership had expected the bandits to scatter once the trial by combat ended, fearing a punitive expedition.
But the result was the opposite. More kept joining from all directions, and their numbers soon surpassed three digits.
In the end, the city, too, began organizing a subjugation force. They were recruiting mercenaries and laborers, stockpiling military supplies.
"We'll be heading in the opposite direction from where they've taken hold, so it's fine. The bandits will be cleaned out soon enough anyway. Think how many knights are still in the city."
There were still quite a few invited knights staying in Bonyard, even after those who had left following the trial by combat.
So people were not greatly worried about the bandits. Their real concern lay elsewhere.
"Truly, this is a grave matter. The entire continent will be thrown into turmoil by Roman's chaos. It's folk like us who have to travel outside who end up dead. Honestly, what are the high lords even fighting over so much."
Nobles everywhere were already clashing over interests and honor, leaving commoners crushed in the crossfire. And if Roman was plunged into war as well?
Deserters, mercenaries turned bandits, robber knights, and illegal slave traders would become even more rampant.
For a powerful knight like Eugene, it might be a chance to advance, but small-time merchants like Caliber saw nothing but darkness ahead.
"At least for today, rest easy. I shall keep watch over you."
"Hahaha! I'm grateful for the sentiment, but we're safe here. The city guard is a stone's throw away — what villains would dare commit robbery right under their noses?"
The moment Caliber departed, Homi removed Eugene's armor. She wiped away the leaves and the grit blown in by the wind, then applied oil to several parts and covered them with thin cloths.
While in the field, weapons and armor needed frequent maintenance.
"Ugh, third watch. I hate it."
"How could you dig a latrine this close! Do you mean to show the knight such an unsightly sight?"
"Good work, Kelly. Drink your fill."
A mercenary grumbling about night duty, a laborer lighting a campfire and digging a temporary latrine, Caliber wiping down the packhorses' sweat and letting them drink from the stream.
Just looking at the peaceful scene brought a smile to Eugene's lips.
After eating, Eugene lay down in a suitable spot. The autumn night air was chilly, but the warg hide kept him warm.
"Hmm-hmm~."
Homi's humming drew near as she returned from washing in the stream. Even more fastidious than Eugene about cleanliness, she never missed an opportunity to bathe.
"Thanks for taking care of the gear."
When he lifted the hide, Homi slipped underneath. The warmth increased, along with a coziness the warg hide alone couldn't provide.
"It's definitely far better than most ordinary cloaks. Isn't it?"
Within his arms, Homi nodded. Though tall, her frame was slender enough that a single leather could cover them both.
The one drawback was that both were so tall their feet stuck out from under the leather. Whenever the breeze touched Homi's damp toes, they curled and wriggled.
They would sleep like this, but if intruders approached, the two warriors' blade-sharp senses would detect them before the mercenaries on watch.
The following day, at dawn.
Shake, shake.
At Homi's touch shaking his shoulder, Eugene's eyes snapped open.
First, he checked the sky. It was still dark, but the dew-laden air of dawn told him daybreak was near.
'An ambush?'
She would not wake him at this hour without special reason. A moment later, Eugene's senses detected a group approaching while holding their breath.
"What is the matter?"
The mercenary on watch was startled when the sleeping knight suddenly sprang up and grabbed his sword; he himself hadn't noticed anything.
With Homi's help, Eugene hurriedly donned his armor and pointed in one direction.
"We don't see anything..."
The two mercenaries on watch rubbed their eyes and looked, but there was only darkness and undergrowth.
"Everyone, rise!"
Ignoring them, Eugene roared.
"Wh-what?!"
The mercenaries who had been snoring away started up as if spring-loaded.
"It's still night, what's going on?"
"What the hell do you think? He woke us because we're under attack, you idiots! Grab your weapons!"
The veteran mercenaries grabbed their weapons and shields, squinting through sleep-heavy eyes. By then, the mercenaries on watch had finally spotted the intruders too.
"Enemy!"
They had crept cunningly along the grass, weapons wrapped in cloaks and cloth.
Realizing they'd been spotted, the enemy abandoned stealth and advanced with murderous intent. Torches flared up here and there, revealing faces gleaming with greed and bloodlust.
'Over twenty of them? Counting only combatants, that's more than twice our number.'
Eugene rapidly assessed the enemy strength.
They were outnumbered, so the servants and the mercenaries alike were taut with tension. But there was no air of despair about them.
Gulp.
Every gaze turned to Eugene.
"Caravan Master Caliber, hide with the laborers."
"Yes, Sir Knight!"
After all, the strongest knight in the region was with them.
With a heavily armed knight mounted beside them, the mercenaries felt more at ease than in any battle they had ever faced.
"I don't understand this. To go pillaging right beside the city — do they each have two or three lives to spare?"
"Aren't they the sort who live only for today? If anything, they may have struck at a point we wouldn't easily anticipate."
The mercenary captain answered the puzzled Eugene while donning his helm.
Some mercenaries slapped their cheeks to wake themselves up.
When the distance between the two sides had closed sufficiently, the ambushers' conversation became audible, and they, too, sounded flustered.
"What the hell! There's a knight here?"
"The ones who can fight are less than half of us! Just charge in!"
A coarse shout was accompanied by a flying bolt, but it was easily blocked by a mercenary's shield.
Whizz!
"Agh!"
In contrast, the bolt that flew from this side sent one of the charging men tumbling. It was Homi who had just fired the crossbow.
Homi, hidden behind the mercenaries, swiftly reloaded and loosed a second bolt.
Whizz!
"Urk!"
Another crossbowman fell. Homi was picking off anyone with a ranged weapon first.
"Form up!"
Faced with that unusual power, the attackers formed a shield wall despite slowing their advance. Even that couldn't protect them from Homi's heavy crossbow.
Thunk!
"Aaargh!"
A man screamed as a bolt punched through his shield and pinned the back of his hand. An arrow fired by a mercenary to help had too little draw weight to penetrate and bounced off a shield.
Then the front ranks collided and the battle began.
"You sons of bitches! I'll kill every last one of you!"
"We'll strip you down to your last penny and then kill you!"
"You bitch with the crossbow! We'll make you regret ever being born!"
The bandits, already bleeding before the real fight had begun, shouted in fury.
"That's our line."
With that, Eugene charged straight into their midst.
Whoooosh!
And the slaughter began.
Every swing tore through the air. Skulls burst one after another under the iron flail, while the longsword severed arms and split throats.
"Wh-what in the world kind of weapon is that?"
A bandit, spattered with his comrade's brain matter, screamed.
He'd seen plenty of entrails and blood in his life as a raider, but never the contents of a skull.
Yet each time that knight swung the bizarre polearm, pink, ghastly fragments flew in every direction.
Blocking with a shield was useless.
BANG!
The iron club on its chain curled over the shield like a serpent and smashed into the back of the defender's head.
As mangled bodies of their comrades littered the ground, the bandits' morale plummeted.
"What are you lot doing? It's time to earn bonus pay!"
"The All-Conquering Knight is with us!"
In contrast, the mercenaries' morale soared. They charged boldly at an enemy that still outnumbered them.
'We've seized the advantage.'
Eugene sheathed his longsword and raised his shield. With the enemy formation shattered, there was no need to wield two weapons.
They were spread out perfectly for him to crack their skulls one by one with the flail. Besides, there might still be enemies with ranged weapons.
Fweeeet—!
Sure enough, just as Eugene moved to smash a bandit locked in swordplay with a mercenary, Homi's warning whistle sounded beside his ear.
A moment later, he sensed the rushing air and killing intent and reflexively raised his shield in that direction.
CLANG!
The bolt struck the broad iron shield and fell away, harmless.
"Damn it!"
A bandit stood in that direction, gripping a crossbow with a frustrated scowl.
THUNK!
The man toppled immediately, fluid leaking from his left eye where the bolt had pierced it.
Homi was prioritizing shooters who might threaten her lord.
CRASH!
The bandit's shield shattered into pieces as it met the flail.
"My haaaaand!"
His broken fingers splayed in every direction like a swastika as the bandit howled.
CRACK!
His scream was cut short as the flail swung from the side and crushed his temple.
With things like this, the enemy couldn't focus on the mercenaries in front of them. They never knew when a deadly club would come crashing down from above.
Whooosh!
"Eek!"
The bandits instinctively raised their shields and looked up.
CRUNCH!
Then came the hellish relief of seeing a comrade, rather than oneself, turn into a corpse.
Naturally, the mercenaries weren't going to just stand there and watch.
"Have these bastards gone mad? Where are you looking in the middle of a fight!"
"Looks like you need us old-timers to skewer your guts before you'll come to your senses!"
The mercenaries mercilessly drove spears and swords into the exposed flanks and bellies before them.
"Die! Just die! Wahahaha!"
Some mercenaries were even laughing as they hacked away. Stabbing a distracted enemy in the back or side was something mercenaries enjoyed almost as much as gambling.
"Aaaagh!"
There were some enemies who seemed to fight well, but they fell clutching their thighs when Homi's bolts flew in without warning.
Circling the perimeter, Eugene sealed off every escape route as if driving game during a hunt.
There was no fleeing from a mounted knight's polearm. Unable to run, the bandits met total annihilation.
"I, I surrender!"
"Please, spare us!"
Two bandits, bathed in their comrades' blood, threw down their weapons and flattened themselves on the ground. Their hands were clasped as if in prayer as they trembled.
"You won't die easy, you sons of bitches! I'll strip the skin right off you first!"
The former hunter glared savagely. He'd stood second watch and then been ambushed at dawn, so he'd lost an entire night's sleep.
Shing.
The sight of him sharpening his dagger on a whetstone was chilling beyond words.
'Why do mercenaries who used to be hunters always want to skin people?'
Eugene wondered, though he didn't bother asking.
Despite their threats to tear the captives apart, the mercenaries didn't actually draw any more blood. Someone else would decide what happened to them.
"What a commotion at this hour. Is anyone injured?"
"Just a few scratches. Nothing a little spit won't fix."
"It's an honor my family will remember that I got to fight beside you, Sir! Your valor is truly heaven-sent!"
The mercenaries wiped away every trace of their recent savagery and answered politely.
"Are there more of your kind nearby?"
When Eugene singled out one bandit for questioning, the mercenaries immediately pressed blades to his throat.
"None! It's only us!"
Faced with that murderous pressure, the captive answered at once.
"Why were you trying to pillage right outside the city? I heard the bandit gangs were running rampant elsewhere."
"W-well, that is..."
The bandit glanced around nervously. Naturally, the mercenaries weren't going to wait for him to make up his mind.
"Do you want to die? Spit it out!"
Thud! Thud!
"Urgh!"
They knocked the bandit flat and stomped him in unison, kicking up a flurry of dust.
Snort.
Might took a step back, sheltering his master from the dust. A clever beast, as befitting a Barsia warhorse.
Eugene watched them give the bandit a thorough stomping, then stopped them before they went too far.
"He'll die at this rate. That's enough."
"Yes!"
The mercenaries stopped at once and hauled the bandit upright. The hunter-turned-mercenary seized his wrist with a sharp dagger in hand.
"Sir Knight! I implore you, grant me leave to interrogate this wretch. If I peel the skin off his fingers one by one, it won't kill him, and he'll sing quite nicely."
"Oh!"
Eugene's eyes lit up, a look unbefitting an honorable knight. The bandits were horrified at the sight.
"J-just a moment! I'll tell you everything! Please! Spare me!"
Suddenly appreciating the value of keeping his body intact, the bandit began talking with great enthusiasm.
"We heard Bonyard was in chaos and figured now was our chance. We started looting, and more and more of the same sort kept joining up. As our numbers swelled, we were gleeful about hitting a big village and making a proper score... sir."
He'd started speaking boldly, but the mercenaries' glares grew uglier as the story went on. Naturally, his voice shrank with them.
"Continue."
But the bandit's circumstances were none of Eugene's concern.
"W-well, the chief said that if we got too big, we'd get caught and swept away by a subjugation force. He said we should bail out now and pillage somewhere else."
"Where is this chief?"
The bandit pointed with a trembling finger.
Everyone's gaze came to rest on a single corpse. With nothing left above its nose, it was unmistakably Eugene's handiwork.
"That bastard... was our chief."
The image of the chief's head exploding surfaced in the bandit's mind. At the very least, he had gone without pain—a single mercy in this misfortune.
"Why did you attack us?"
"W-well, that's..."
Was he too afraid to tell his victims why they had attacked, even after being beaten down for trying to rob them? After all that stomping, he still hesitated.
Clink.
Eugene offered no verbal urging. He simply thrust the flail in front of the man's face.
Seeing the shreds of flesh clinging to the blood-soaked iron club, the bandit wet himself.