Chapter 27: Varda (3)
Chapter 27: Varda (3)
"We hit a small village on the way here, but didn't get anything. The sub-captain talked us into lying low near the city and picking off the careless, so we just..."
The bandit, who had been rolling his eyes to keep track of the swinging iron mace, planted his face into the ground.
"I've committed a sin worthy of death! Please, have mercy!"
"Who is the sub-captain?"
The bandit pointed with a trembling hand toward a corpse with a bolt lodged in its eye.
He questioned them further about the bandit group they had joined, but they'd left some time ago and were only low-ranking members, so they knew nothing useful.
"Waaah! Please spare me!"
"Come on! I said I wouldn't kill you. What's the problem?"
"I really don't knooooow!"
Even after the hunter-turned-mercenary worked him over a little, nothing useful came out of him. That confirmed he truly knew nothing.
"Caravan Master Caliber."
"Yes! I am here!"
Caliber, who had been holding his horse close with bated breath, hurried over. While they fought and questioned the prisoners, the sun had climbed higher and dawn now lit the world.
"In this situation, going back to sleep is out of the question, so how about we prepare to depart?"
"Right. Forget sleep; that's completely gone now. First we should clear the bodies. Leaving them like this would be disrespectful to the road."
At Caliber's gesture, the workers hesitantly approached the corpses. But the mercenaries stepped forward and blocked their path.
"What is it?"
"Well, it's just..."
At Eugene's question, the mercenary captain clasped his hands respectfully.
"Sir Knight and your squire slew the vast majority of them. Should you not be the first to take the spoils?"
Eugene's gaze settled on the iron mace.
"Hmm."
Even after roughly scanning the bodies, he saw nothing that looked particularly valuable.
These were wretches who had fled their own band to try and score when the city was in chaos. There was no way they carried anything worthwhile.
Gathering it all up might yield some money, but it would be an undignified act, and disposing of it immediately would be a hassle.
"Let's do this. Search their pockets and give me only the coins and valuables. The rest is yours to keep."
"Thank you!"
The mercenaries bowed their heads in delight. It was obvious at a glance that these scoundrels had little money. In this kind of situation, weapons, armor, shoes, and various tools were worth far more.
In the battle just now, the knight and his squire had practically swept them away on their own. Their own part had been merely to hold formation and pick off those who fled.
And yet he showed such merciful consideration. Truly an All-Conquering Knight!
"Once we cross this bridge, a fork in the road should appear."
Caliber pointed to a stone bridge spanning a stream flowing through the valley.
"A work of the Ancient Kingdom."
"Indeed. That one little bridge keeps countless breadwinners and their families fed."
Apart from a coating of moss, not a single part was damaged; it had stood firm against years and currents alike.
Such immortal bridges offered convenience to countless peddlers and travelers all across the continent.
That was why so many anecdotes were associated with it, like the story left by a man who retired after spending his whole life collecting tolls on a bridge.
-My old friend! You were my playground when I was young, gave me work when I became an adult, and now you have become a resting place for this old body. Thanks to you, my two sons and two daughters all married safely. I wish I could leave even this worthless name of mine to the friend who has been with me for sixty years... but you would not allow even that, would you?
Stories of guards bidding a sorrowful farewell could be found in every region.
Trickle!
After passing the bridge while watching carp swim about, a fork in the road soon appeared.
"If you go left here, it will lead you to the Emerald Forest. It is so vast and dense that you will recognize it at once."
"Our time was short, but it was a pleasure, Caravan Master."
"The honor of accompanying you was all mine, Sir Knight."
He bowed deeply, nearly at a right angle.
He was grateful enough that Eugene had defended his goods and workers without a single loss, but he had even handed over the prisoners at a reasonable price.
"They have no serious injuries and are fairly young, so the trade should pose no problem. They must pay for their crimes through labor."
The mercenaries surrounded the tightly bound, trembling bandits and glared at them. The look in their eyes made it clear they wanted to kill them on the spot.
"Mr. Caliber, can't we just kill them?"
"Who would buy scum this rotten inside and out?"
Caliber waved his hand as if to dissuade them.
"Even an easy death is too good for scum like this. They say life is worth living even if you're rolling in dog shit, but there are limits."
"Ah, of course being alive even rolling in shit is better. For the sake of those these bastards killed and looted, we should pass judgment ourselves."
Caliber shook his head with a smile. There was something chilling in his expression, the look merchants sometimes showed.
"They'll work until there's nothing left but skin and their ribs show. They'll spend the rest of their lives in a dark place where they can't see the sun even when they wake in the morning, filling their bellies with moldy bread and rotten water."
Caliber was a merchant. His creed was to squeeze out one more coin rather than settle for momentary satisfaction. If it doubled as punishment, all the better.
"A sword gives a moment of pain and death, but this method adds a long stretch of despair. Still not good enough?"
"I... I suppose so."
"I think Mr. Caliber is right."
The mercenaries suddenly found the old merchant terrifying, despite the fact that he couldn't begin to match them in physical strength.
"I am glad everything seems to be in order. Then, good fortune to all of you on the road ahead."
Eugene departed after saying his farewells. Because it was a fork in the road, the merchant caravan was out of sight in an instant.
"Merchants can be just as fearsome as knights at times."
Homi shrugged.
"All we care about is getting paid."
Eugene opened the pouch that clinked heavily. It was all copper coins, so the amount would be small for the weight, but it contained one gem-studded ring and a few pearls.
'The one who sent the letter is a mage, too. Would she be short on funds living in the forest?'
Homi, who had grown curious while looking at the coin pouch, asked in sign language.
"I hear forest magic costs less than most other schools. You can gather most of what you need."
A knight's upkeep did not vary enormously unless he indulged in major luxuries.
For mages, however, the cost could vary enormously depending on their field.
"How old is the Lady of the Forest, anyway? I heard she hasn't been settled and active in the forest for very long."
The guard captain's description placed her in her twenties, but since she was an elf, he could not be certain.
Elves here were not immortal. Their normal lifespan was around 150 years, while those of noble blood were said to live as long as 200.
They matured at roughly the same rate as humans, but aged much more slowly. Their subjective sense of a lifetime must far exceed a human's.
When they crested the hill, a vast green forest appeared. In front of it lay a small village in shambles. It appeared to be the place the bandits had plundered.
Pweeeet—!
Homi, having spotted something, pointed in one direction.
"Someone's alive."
An old man lay collapsed and groaning. Homi scanned the area to make sure it wasn't a trap, then ran over and helped him up.
"Uuugh..."
When she held a waterskin to him, the old man opened his mouth and drank.
"Th-thank you."
"I'm Eugene Meyer, a knight."
"I'm just a resident of this humble little village."
The old man smiled with effort.
"Were you attacked by bandits?"
"Yes. A little over twenty. This village had been peaceful for a long time..."
"They've been dealt with. They won't be coming back."
"Thank you, Sir Knight. You've done every village in this area a great service."
The old man offered his thanks with deep respect.
"It was only my duty as a knight. But I don't see anyone else. Did everyone evacuate?"
"There was no one to begin with. My son's family, the last ones remaining, left for the next village last year."
Looking closer, the houses seemed less ruined by looting and more like they had already been abandoned.
"I'm the only one left. There was nothing here worth stealing, so the bandits beat me half to death to vent their frustration. At least they didn't put a blade in me."
"Living alone in a place like this must be hard at your age."
"How much longer could I have left anyway? I've lived here since I was born, and I have no intention of abandoning it. My son is a dutiful boy and tried everything to take me with him, though. Good lad."
His wrinkled eyes held affection and pride for his son.
"If you have lived here all along, you must have seen many things."
"Indeed I have."
The old man followed Eugene's gaze toward the forest and gave a knowing look.
"Are you curious about the Girl Walking on the Wheat Field?"
It was another alias for Varda, the Lady of the Forest.
"How did you know... well, I suppose it is too obvious."
"I'm just an ignorant farmer who's spent his whole life here. What else would someone like you ask me about? It's not the first time."
Mercenaries, adventurers, envoys from the city, scholars exploring the world, even bards: travelers passing through must have asked him often.
"I saw her only once. It has already been more than fifteen years now. Back then, the village had a fair number of people."
The old man's face grew wistful, as though recalling an unforgettable memory.
"It was a time when a great famine had fallen upon the entire continent. The soil was brittle, and even the sunlight was weak, like the wingbeats of a sick bird."
"I've heard of it. It was the year when even entire countries collapsed in a famine that went down in history."
It was said that wails of mourning echoed across the entire continent during that unprecedented famine.
"Our village was despairing over the dying wheat fields too. But we couldn't just sit there and starve to death, could we? We went out from dawn just to pull weeds. Even if it was futile, we wanted to do something—anything."
Many of the village's fields were now left untended, and they were planted with potatoes, not wheat. It was natural, as the old man could not tend them alone.
"That's where we found her—a beautiful elf girl in a dress. She seemed to float across the withering wheat field."
The old man plucked a blade of grass and used his index and middle fingers to mimic walking upon the blade.
"Wherever her snow-white bare feet, beaded with morning dew, passed, golden wheat raised its heads all around her. When I came to my senses, the fields were full of rich grain. I can still vividly remember the youthful smile she gave us before she left."
The old man paused for a moment and looked at Eugene.
"After witnessing that sight, I became bound to this village forever. So how could I possibly abandon this place and leave?"
The old man's face was more reverent than that of any priest Eugene had seen at his home monastery.
After parting with the old man and entering the Emerald Forest, fresh air filled Eugene's lungs. It felt like bathing in the breath of the trees and leaves.
Snort—!
Might and Sandy also showed their delight, their large nostrils flaring repeatedly.
"Hm?"
Then Eugene felt something strange, a peculiar sensation as though the wind were passing straight through his body.
The two sets of hoofbeats from moments before had become one. Looking back, he saw Sandy carrying Homi off in another direction.
"Homi!"
He called, but she gave no answer.
"Might, turn back."
Eugene wheeled his horse around, approached, and grabbed Homi's wrist.
"...?"
Her innocent eyes looked up at him as if asking what the matter was.
"You were heading the wrong way. You didn't notice?"
Homi looked around as if to say, 'Me?' Even she, whose senses were sharper than Eugene's, hadn't noticed anything strange and had been about to circle away.
"It's magic. Is this how people lost their way?"
Still holding Homi's hand, Eugene rode side by side with her toward the center of the forest.
"???"
The moment Homi, who had been following with a puzzled expression, crossed that same point.
"!!!"
Her pretty face twisted comically. She wrapped her free arm around herself and shivered.
It was the strange sensation of trying to force like poles of two magnets together. Homi felt as though that sensation were brushing over her entire body.
"Does it hurt, or are you getting motion sickness?"
She shook her head.
It was only a strong sense of wrongness, not something painful.
After that first time, Eugene felt nothing. The unknown force trying to beguile him simply rebounded from his powerful soul.
"Phew!"
Homi let out a breath.
'I'm fine now! What a weird feeling! This really is a magical forest!'
Her freed fingers flew through a series of signs.
"Strange. She must know we're invited guests, yet there's no one here to greet us."
She was a brilliant mage who used birds as messengers and could observe events far outside the forest. She surely already knew Eugene had arrived.
"Maybe she couldn't come out because she's caring for the sick person she mentioned in the letter?"
As they continued, a small meadow opened up ahead. The dense trees that had blocked their view elsewhere receded into the distance.
A large wooden mansion stood at its center, dozens of trees and thousands of vines woven together to form a house.
"Wait."
As Eugene raised his right hand, Homi reflexively placed her hand on the crossbow strapped to her back.
"Don't reach for your weapon. We're guests here; we can't cause trouble."
Homi took her hand off the crossbow, pointed to her nose, and shook her head once.
"Right. Those aren't something you can detect by smell."
Young trees just past the sapling stage were planted around the mansion, each about the height of a person. A faint magical presence emanated from them.
Eugene took the letter from inside his coat and unfolded it for them to see.
"I'm Eugene Meyer, a knight. Varda, the owner of this mansion, invited me, and I've come as a legitimate guest."
Crrrreak.
Creak.
The young trees planted around the mansion all writhed at once. Limbs sprouted from them, and feminine wooden figures rose one after another.
"Dryads."
Eugene murmured at the sight.