Chapter 34: First Subjugation (5)
Chapter 34: First Subjugation (5)
"We cannot simply abandon the knights. Sir Eugene, may I ask this of you?"
The only person who combined mobility with combat power while being able to help without badly bruising the rescued knights' pride was Eugene, a fellow knight.
The troops under Eugene were dark elves renowned as elite skirmishers, so they could easily keep pace with mounted knights.
"Leave it to me. I shall depart at once."
"Thank you."
The guard captain bowed his head.
"If the situation turns dire, withdraw immediately. Even if all the other knights perish, it will suffice so long as you alone return alive."
"You're starting to sound more and more like the Chief Magistrate."
Varda urged her horse alongside Eugene, who wore a conflicted expression.
"Would it not be better for you to remain at the camp?"
"Even an excellent knight such as yourself will find it difficult to swiftly navigate a forest you have never entered before."
"That is true."
Varda cupped a hand to one long ear and tilted it toward the forest.
"I can feel the forest suffering beneath a cloying weight of murderous intent and fighting spirit. Follow that feeling and we will surely find the knights. I will guide you by a shortcut."
"Understood. But should the enemy appear, withdraw at once."
An elite force composed of an elf mage, a human knight, a beastkin squire, and twenty dark elf skirmishers set out.
"Do not think of this as a rescue. Think of it as sightseeing. Be ready to retreat at any time, and even if you run out of arrows, avoid close combat. Hold your formation and I will handle the rest."
Eugene's mounted fighting style with the great flail was at its most effective when supporting allies who held a steady line.
"Leave it to us. That is precisely how we have always fought."
"How is it that you understand exactly what we want better than we do ourselves, Sir Knight?"
As a minority people, the dark elves favored combat doctrine that minimized losses. Eugene's orders swept away even the tension of facing an unknown enemy.
"At the chestnut tree coming up, break left. The ground immediately afterward is thick with exposed roots, so watch your footing."
Riding at the vanguard, Varda guided the party flawlessly. The magic of the forest was granting signposts visible only to her.
Led by Galia, the four knights spurred their horses without hesitation. Thirsting for renown, they could not possibly yield the glory of an opening victory.
"Sir Eugene remained at the camp, you said?"
"Yes! I confirmed it at the last, and he had not even set a saddle upon his horse."
"Good, good."
Galia was satisfied with his squire's report.
"Is that not obvious? If a man monopolized all the glory in the trial by combat, he ought to know when to give someone else a turn."
"The fellow is no boundless glutton after all."
Sir Osram and Sir Kain thought a little better of Eugene after hearing that.
"I see a great boulder ahead!"
At the squire's cry, smiles spread across the knights' faces.
-There will be a fork before a great boulder! To the left is a large encampment, and to the right a smaller encampment with a bandit knight!
It was exactly as they had heard from the captured bandit scout.
The knights intended to take control of the entire subjugation themselves.
"Gentlemen! I shall take the bandit knight they say is on the right! The encampment is small, so my men shall suffice."
Sir Galia proclaimed boldly.
"Understood. We shall sweep the rabble on the left clean. Let us regroup at the boulder once the work is done."
"My thanks for indulging my obstinacy!"
The other knights would also rather defeat a bandit knight than ordinary bandits or mercenaries. The honor to be won was in an entirely different league.
Yet Galia was the knight of the wealthiest house here. They had been invited to a banquet he hosted and lavishly plied with wine and food; it was better to maintain good relations going forward.
Friendships between knights forged over banquets and battles could last a lifetime. Wandering knights with thinner purses than Galia's had reason to give way.
"Sir Galia, victory be with you!"
"And may fortune favor your arms as well!"
The knights parting at the fork cheered one another on.
Thus Galia, leading twelve men, stormed the small encampment.
"A raid!"
"What the hell were those scouts doing?"
The bandits and mercenaries had never expected the knights to split off from the main force and simply barge in by brute force.
Bandit messengers might keep track of an army of hundreds, but they could not possibly cover dozens of horsemen maneuvering independently at speed.
In the midst of their panic, they scrambled for arms and shields to fight.
"Gyaaak!"
But the heavily armored knights cut through arms and backs in an instant, sending men sprawling across the ground.
"N-no! Stop—"
The followers charging behind them trampled the fallen under a storm of hooves.
CRUNCH!
Bones snapped and bellies burst with sickening noise as corpses rolled across the ground. The bandits lost their nerve and began to rout.
"You wretch! I have found you at last!"
Galia, having just sent a fleeing mercenary's head flying, fixed his glare on the bandit knight who had appeared opposite him.
A black horse, a black surcoat, even a black helmet—it practically advertised, "I am a fallen knight." To Galia, hungry for fame, the man was irresistible prey.
"Very good."
When the bandit knight silently leveled his sword at him, Galia grinned. This opponent was not some lowly mercenary but a fellow knight. Fighting spirit and competitive fire surged through him.
Eugene marveled at the mobility and stamina of the dark elves. The horses were moving at the canter, the third of four gaits, yet they kept pace perfectly on foot.
"Varda-nim. Do any monsters capable of threatening knights dwell in this vicinity?"
"This place is too poor an environment for dangerous monsters to hunt. Moreover, given the surrounding conditions, if a powerful monster did inhabit it, word would surely have spread by now."
The faint clash of weapons, battle cries, and screams gradually reached them. They were close enough now that they no longer needed guidance.
"I will go on ahead! Follow at a pace that does not wear you out!"
As Eugene spurred his horse's flank and increased speed, Varda and Homi followed.
"I am quite capable of looking after myself!"
Varda cried out, as if to preempt Eugene's concern.
"Understood."
The dark elves did not try to stop Eugene. His strength aside, they knew he was flexible enough to wait for them if circumstances demanded it.
The three riders swiftly traversed the forest.
Soon the great boulder and the fork appeared, and sounds of battle came from the smaller camp on the right. The moment Eugene rode into it—
"Gyaaak!"
He saw a knight having his shoulder hacked through by the bandit knight's sword.
"Sir Galia?"
It was the man who had sought Eugene out after taking offense at not being chosen as champion. Eugene remembered his face because the man had interrupted his shave.
"S-Sir Eugene..."
Gravely wounded, Galia caught sight of him and cast a piteous glance.
Slash!
The sword-light flashed, and Galia's head fell.
"My lord!"
"No!"
The squire and servants who had lost their master had no time even to mourn.
"Khak!"
The screams of comrades who looked away and got cut down forced everyone's attention back to the enemies in front of them. They had to save their own lives first. More enemy reinforcements were arriving, and Galia's men were being pushed back.
The bandit knight flicked the blood from his blade and turned toward Eugene. The newly arrived knight, not the rabble around him, was clearly his real opponent.
There was no knightly cry of 'For honor!', nor any bandit's shout of 'Give us all you have!' All that could be felt was a killing intent that wanted Eugene's life.
"You're no ordinary bandit knight, are you?"
Eugene sensed the aura of magic from the enemy before him.
A flicker of surprise crossed the bandit knight's face, as though he had not expected Eugene to see through his secret.
Clink.
In place of his sword, Eugene produced his flail. Against one who harbored magical power, he could not afford to let his guard down. Keeping distance and disposing of him safely was best.
An iron bar that overwhelmed most spears, a thick chain, a brutal iron cudgel.
"...What the hell are you?"
The bandit knight showed a human reaction for the first time.
Eugene ignored him and spurred his horse into a charge. As if he could not be outdone, the bandit knight spurred his own mount forward.
A moment before they entered striking range, Eugene turned his horse aside and swung the flail.
'He's swinging already?'
The bandit knight was taken aback.
A distinguished warrior can roughly gauge reach just by looking at a weapon. But the range and arc of that great flail were both extremely difficult to predict.
And what Eugene had aimed for was not even the bandit knight himself.
CRACK!
The fearsome iron cudgel crushed the forehead of the black warhorse. The horse died instantly, its head and forequarters pitching into the ground.
Whoosh!
The bandit knight, who had been charging with great momentum, was catapulted forward like a stone launched from a trebuchet.
Unhorsed. And for an armored knight to be thrown mid-charge, the impact was immense.
"Cough!"
The fall had violently shaken the bandit knight's insides. He had bitten his tongue, and blood streamed from his mouth.
Clop. Clop.
Before the man, flung facedown on the ground, could struggle to his feet, Eugene wheeled behind him and swung the flail once more.
CRUNCH!
His helmet and head were crushed together, planting his face in the dirt. It was an anticlimactic end for a man who had slain two knights of the subjugation force.
"An oddly shaped polearm really is convenient. Whatever trick I try, the other man has no idea what to expect."
Homi smiled at her lord's easy victory, while Varda looked bewildered.
"What is the matter?"
"Ah, it is nothing. I congratulate you on your victory."
-How nobly he fought against Sir Badel and Sir Lipton!
This fight did not quite match what the noblewomen in the city had told Varda about Eugene's chivalry. She found herself glancing around to make sure there were no witnesses.
Eugene immediately moved to support his allies, who were fighting desperately. The backs of the bandits' heads looked irresistibly tempting as they held their line.
BAM! THUD! THUD!
He brought the flail down like he was playing whack-a-mole, dropping bandits at a rate of one per second.
"Wh-what?"
"What's become of the knight?"
The bandits were thrown into confusion. In single combat, not a large-scale battle, a fight between knights was not so easily decided.
The dhampir knight Derek had met his end only after a protracted exchange, as had the recently slain Galia.
They had never imagined Eugene would finish the bandit knight in two exchanges and then fall upon their rear.
"Waaaaah!"
The squire and servants who had been fighting desperately cheered as hope surged through them. They recognized the knight who had come to their rescue as the strongest in the region.
The bandits still outnumbered them, but with a knight crashing into their rear and trapping them in a pincer, there was no way to hold.
CRACK!
While they fought Galia's men in front, their skulls were shattered from behind and they died without even time to scream.
THUNK!
"Gyaaak!"
Yet when they turned to guard their rear, blades bit into their flanks and backs.
"We'll all die at this rate!"
"Run!"
The bandits fled, weeping and shouting. But how could they escape with the men they had been fighting in front and a knight pursuing from behind? They were cut down one by one until none remained.
One fortunate wretch, however, managed to flee a fair distance. He had already gained more than forty meters, and it seemed difficult for anyone but the mounted Eugene to catch him.
"Catch that bastard!"
"Don't let a single one live—huh?!"
Galia's servants, eyes bloodshot with the desire to avenge their lord, tried to rush after the fugitive, but Eugene's long flail barred their path.
"Save your strength and rest."
Eugene reversed his grip on the flail and used the haft to knock an axe into the air. He caught it in midair and hurled it at the fleeing bandit.
Whoosh!
The axe-head, spinning terrifyingly through the air, punched through the bandit's back and jutted out from his chest.
Thud!
"A-amazing, Sir Knight."
"Sir Knight has saved all our lives!"
The servants looked up at him with awed expressions.
"I am Sir Eugene Meyer. I heard the trumpet call for aid and came."
A knight had appeared in their darkest moment and saved them all. He carried the majesty of an angel sent down by God.
"Sir Eugene. It was not we who sounded the trumpet."
Galia's squire, clutching his bleeding arm, made his report.
"The trumpet sounded from over there."
The squire pointed to the encampment on the other side. No sound came from it now; perhaps the fighting there had already ended.
"The left-hand fork from the great boulder, you mean."
"That is correct. The other knights went charging that way, and the clamor of battle reached us. And shortly after, a ghastly howl as well."
The squire's face was twisted as if the memory alone was terrifying.
"A howl? A monster, then? Can you identify what kind?"
"It was a cry I had never heard in all my life."
The servants shook their heads fearfully as well. If even men who had followed a knight and encountered many monsters could not identify it, the creature was unlikely to be ordinary.
"I have something to tell you as well."
Varda, drawing near, pointed at the bandit knight's corpse.
"The man you felled is a heretic knight."
"I did sense magic from him, but I never imagined it had anything to do with heretics."
Eugene, who had thought it no more than some magical artifact, was a little surprised.
This land recognized many gods, so a person was not called a heretic merely for worshiping a different one. There were no massive religious wars or holy sites repeatedly changing hands between faiths.
Here, "heretic" referred to followers of truly vile and sinister faiths.
"I confirmed the wicked tattoos etched upon his neck, his arms, and his forehead. The evil gods who dwell in the Otherworld often bestow their power in such a fashion."
"Might that be the secret to his slaying two knights?"
"Tattoo magic has side effects, but the power it grants is undeniable: tireless stamina, dulled pain, greater strength, and so on. If their basic skill was similar, it is only natural the other knights lost."
"I understand that this is no simple band of brigands."
A heretic knight bearing such tattoos meant that someone had inscribed them. The mysterious howl heard by the squire and servants was probably connected as well.
"A heretic mage has joined hands with the bandits."
Varda spoke with certainty.