Chapter 50: Medieval Bulldozer (2)
Chapter 50: Medieval Bulldozer (2)
"Such insolence!"
"Does he think this honorable gathering is a joke?"
A few knights reacted with disbelief. These were men who had been away on reconnaissance, training, and unit management and were seeing Eugene for the first time.
In an era where news traveled slowly, such reactions were not unusual for lower-ranking knights who had come up from the countryside without connections.
"Naturally, you have been my champion from the start. I wish you fortune in battle. I entrust my honor and the honor of my house to those stalwart shoulders."
They grew quiet when Roxane designated Eugene as her first pick right from the start.
"Then the knight who shall go forth as second..."
But the moment Roxane began discussing the next selection, the clamor erupted again.
"Those defending the castle seem unaware that you are in the enemy camp."
"Since even our own side barely knows, I imagine that's only natural. They'll be too busy holding Goldford to notice."
Varda looked pleased, as if she expected Eugene to seize great honor once more.
'It was heartening to be trusted, but wasn't this a little too worry-free?'
He felt both joy as a knight and an odd sensation. Duels were fundamentally matters of life and death. Unlike ground combat, where one could easily declare surrender at an opportune moment, mounted duels carried far greater risk.
"Do you know of a knight among the enemy called Geist?"
"He was personally knighted by the Emperor. He always distinguishes himself in the tournaments hosted in the capital. I have seen him fight myself."
"It seems you have been invited to the capital as well."
"A few times."
Varda narrowed her eyes as if sifting through memories.
"Sir Geist, having defeated his opponent in the tournament, approached the place where I was seated."
"He wanted a garland."
"What else would a victorious knight wish for from a lady in the stands?"
Large tournaments drew scores of young noblewomen.
Upon their laps rested garlands they had crafted themselves. When a victorious knight approached, casting those garlands to him was a point of pride for noble ladies.
"So did you throw it?"
"No. I had been invited suddenly, so my hands were empty. After that, the glares from the girl beside me made the seat feel like a bed of thorns. It was a truly lovingly made garland."
Varda laughed, as if the memory of that girl charmed her.
"That Geist is here means the other Imperial Guard knights have come as well."
"That explains why the garrison commander had the confidence to propose a duel."
"Even if every enemy knight were Sir Geist, you would defeat them with ease."
Varda spoke without a shred of hesitation.
"He was a knight who approached hoping for a garland. Do speak of him a bit more kindly."
Even as Eugene said this, he felt a deep sense of fulfillment rising from the depths of his heart.
Just like in Roxane's camp, a long-absent vitality blossomed within Codon Castle as well.
The residents and mercenaries were simply glad that the agonizing siege was coming to an end. They cared nothing for who became the castle's new master.
"They say all the capable knights of House Morad have gone to Goldford."
"That stands to reason. Going to Roxane means courting disfavor with the future head of the family."
The castle's command staff was also satisfied. In a situation where defeat was a foregone conclusion, they had been given a chance to gamble on a high-stakes throw of the dice. Moreover, the Emperor's own Imperial Guard knights were on their side.
Only the adjutant, usually a man of many small worries, whispered to the garrison commander.
"Will this be all right? However strong Sir Geist and the Imperial Guard knights may be, a duel is an uncertain thing. If, by chance..."
The adjutant favored trusting the castle walls and holding out, sink or swim, while praying that Timothy was repelled at Goldford.
But the garrison commander gave an answer beyond all imagining.
"I have no intention of surrendering even if we lose the duel."
"W-would that truly be acceptable?"
The garrison commander had no intention of keeping the promise if they lost from the very beginning. A gamble where you lose nothing if defeated was one you simply had to throw yourself into.
"Hasn't our family already launched a surprise attack without even a declaration of war?"
"Even so, this is..."
The adjutant thought this might be going too far, but the garrison commander hardened his resolve.
Whether the castle fell by siege or by duel, he would be executed by Count Duran once it was lost regardless.
'I've somehow managed to seize a lord's opportunity — to hell with surrender. Even if it means burying my bones here, I will hold this castle fast!'
The garrison commander clenched his trembling fist and steeled his determination.
Eugene visited the dwarf smiths to inspect the weapon he would use in the duel.
"Would it be possible to show me your sword?"
Roxane, who had followed him, asked cautiously.
In lineage, in rank, in military strength, she overshadowed him utterly, yet asking a knight to show his sword was a request not lightly made.
"I know it is an impertinence, but with an Etherje sword before my very eyes, I simply could not help myself."
Aether alloy steel was completed by magically infusing an unknown substance into rare metal. Only the first dynasty to unify the continent, Rui Amor, had possessed the art of its refinement, making it now a lost technique.
Thus, the saying that an Etherje sword was worth the price of a castle was no jest — not that it could be purchased with gold in the first place.
"By all means. You may even draw it."
And so, when Eugene unstrapped Last Autumn, scabbard and all, and handed it over, even Roxane was taken aback.
Gulp.
The dignified expression she always wore evaporated, and Roxane, tense to an almost endearing degree, drew the sword.
SHING.
"Ah!"
At the sight of the silver blade revealed, a rapturous sigh escaped Roxane's lips.
When she swung it a few times through the air, a clear tone distinct from any other sword echoed forth.
"If the Goddess were to play a flute, would it sound like this?"
The busy artisans all stopped their work to watch the scene. With a satisfied face, Roxane lowered the sword.
"Ever since I was a child, it has been my wish to possess an Etherje sword."
"Does House Morad not also hold one?"
"That is the heirloom of the family head. It is my father's now, and later it will enter my brother's scabbard. Though I doubt it will ever be drawn before enemies in either case."
Her tone was cynical, as if she felt a touch of envy.
"A sword ought to rest in the hand of whoever can wield it best. I find it a shame myself."
"You always say precisely what I wish to hear."
CLINK!
Roxane sheathed the sword and personally fastened it to Eugene's belt.
"Tomorrow's battle. You are confident, I trust?"
"I shall give my utmost."
"Giving your utmost is not enough. You must win, without fail."
It was not the answer she had wanted, but Roxane was satisfied. For there was no tension in Eugene. She understood that his composure did not stem from the thoughtless arrogance characteristic of knights.
"I heard you requested a weapon from the smiths? You already possess the sacred Etherje sword and a fearsome large mace. Why, when you have two splendid weapons?"
"Because I must win without fail, and simply winning is not enough."
The flail was powerful, but a weapon whose efficiency was maximized in chaotic melees. Last Autumn was one of the finest sacred swords, but cutting with a blade lacked impact.
'To completely shatter the defenders' morale, a performance would be necessary.'
Eugene was the only knight in this world who understood the importance of a "show."
"Sir Knight. What you spoke of has been completed."
Torim, the representative of the dwarf smiths, approached carrying a weapon. Its form was simple, and with materials and many artisans on hand for siege engine construction, it had been completed in an instant.
"...You mean to use that?"
Roxane stared at the weapon with a flustered expression.
The day of the duel arrived.
All the troops, camp merchants, and laborers watched the empty clearing with keen interest. A duel of knights, deciding victory and defeat on behalf of hundreds and thousands — it was the finest entertainment of the age.
The first to emerge from Codon was Geist's closest brother-knight.
"Death to the rebels!"
"Spear of the Emperor! Bring punishment upon the foe!"
The mercenaries on the ramparts cheered with lips cracked and split from subsisting on hardtack for so long. Feeling his blood boil at the acclaim pouring onto his shoulders, the Imperial Guard knight raised his spear.
The spear was a weapon knights loved as dearly as the sword. Long lances were reserved for tournaments; in real combat, they favored the ordinary spear, easier to handle.
The Imperial Guard knight bellowed toward Roxane's camp — a bold taunt demanding that they come out and settle the matter at once.
"You knights of Morad! What are you doing, skulking instead of coming out at..."
"Have you eaten your courage at the sight of an Imperial knight's banner..."
"...Eh?"
The momentum of the defenders, who had been clashing weapons and shields in support, rapidly withered away.
For the knight who emerged from the enemy camp was bearing an enormous lance that looked capable of killing an ogre in a single blow.
"Have you ever seen such a madman!"
To the Imperial Guard knight, Eugene looked utterly insane. Compared to that lance, the spear in his own hand seemed little more than a toy.
"Wh-what is that thing?"
"It must be a bluff. How could a man possibly wield something like that?"
Unlike the deflated defenders who muttered among themselves, the mercenaries of Roxane's camp roared with enough force to shake the world.
The Imperial Guard knight, who had been the center of attention until moments ago, now flared with jealousy and rage at having the spotlight stolen.
"For His Majesty the Emperor!"
He immediately leveled his spear and shield, spurred his horse, and charged. Eugene likewise kicked Might's flanks and hurtled toward his opponent.
Eugene's monstrous strength needed neither the couched lance grip wedged under the armpit nor a two-handed grip method.
He simply approached holding the lance raised skyward, then in an instant drove it forward into the thrust.
SWOOSH!
At that lightning-quick thrust, the Imperial Guard knight felt as though a log had suddenly sprouted before his eyes.
'Wh-where must I block...'
That was his final thought.
BA-BOOM!!!
The lance tore through chainmail and bored a tunnel through his chest, driving deeper.
CRRUNCH!
Impaled up to thirty percent of the lance's upper shaft, the Imperial Guard knight went limp. There was no unhorsing of the kind that occurred in knightly matched charges.
Drip... drip...
Only blood, pouring from the lance stained crimson, fell to the earth.
A knight skewered in midair, dangling. It was a more wretched end than tumbling in the dust upon the ground.
"A m-monster!"
At that surreal sight, the defenders' morale crumbled.
"Did you just see that?"
One of Roxane's soldiers asked his comrade with a dumbfounded face.
"Uwaaaaaah!!!"
Instead of answering, his comrade roared, and in an instant the cry spread through the entire force.
'Had I seized the initiative well enough?'
Eugene discarded the lance, now cracked in several places.
"Could it be the All-Conquering Knight who defeated Gord?"
Someone among the adjutants on the rampart spoke as if entranced.
"The one who overpowered that Volks with sheer strength?"
"They say he stopped a battle with a single javelin throw during the bandit subjugation."
GRIND.
Geist ground his teeth and stepped forward.
"Sir!"
"What?"
"N-nothing at all."
The adjutant who had tried to dissuade Geist shut his mouth. For he could not bring himself to tell an Imperial Guard knight, 'Even for you, Sir, that man is beyond your reach.'
Moreover, Eugene was bellowing at the next opponent to come out. He mocked them, telling them not to dodge a contest they themselves had initiated by invoking the Emperor's name.
Now it was no longer a matter of a duel, but of the Emperor's face!
"I am Geist, Imperial Guard knight of His Majesty the Emperor! I will strike you down and defend this castle without fail!"
With a thunderous cry, Geist charged.
The silver blade of Last Autumn, drawn by Eugene, collided with Geist's greatsword.
CLANG!
Geist was a man possessed of superb horsemanship and physical strength. He was famed for two-handed swordsmanship that swept wide arcs even from horseback.
But against Eugene's one-handed swing, his grip tore open and he lost his balance. Even the teeth that shattered belonged to Geist's greatsword alone.
WHOOSH!
As Geist veered to the left, Eugene struck him with the edge of his shield.
'Your Majesty...'
Seeing the thick mass of iron flying at his neck, Geist sensed death.
CRUNCH!
His neck bones shattered, the knight flew about five meters and tumbled ignobly across the ground.
After that, two more knights fell in single strokes, and no more came forth from Codon Castle.
When Eugene raised his sword to the sky, a cheer that shook the heavens and earth erupted from Roxane's camp.
"All-Conquering Knight!"
"All-Conquering Knight!"
"All-Conquering Knight!"
Listening to the soldiers' chant, Eugene leveled his sword at the garrison commander above the gate.
"Commander of Codon Castle! Acknowledge your defeat and honorably fulfill your oath!"
CREEEEAK.
THUD!
The answer that returned to Eugene's cry was the gate slamming firmly shut.
"Those heaven-accursed scoundrels!"
"To break the vow of a sacred duel — do those wretches truly not fear the gods?"
Roxane's knights were outraged. For in this era, an ordinary duel and a duel bound by oath carried entirely different meanings.
The former was little more than a fight with a touch more formality, but the latter was a sacred vow. The object of the oath was not the opponent but the gods. Breaking a promise staked on a duel was akin to blasphemy.
"The Duran wretches — typical."
Roxane laughed it off, as if she had anticipated they would break their word.
"The enemy has sundered the pact they made with the gods! Now nothing remains for them but a miserable death!"
At her declaration, the besieging army roared, and the dwarf craftsmen were especially delighted.
"At last, the time has come to showcase our craft."
The dwarf representative Torim stroked the battering ram with an affectionate hand.
The siege engineers House Morad had prepared were many. Among them, those who dealt in more powerful techniques, such as catapult construction, had followed Timothy.
Just as the knights assigned to Roxane were the non-mainstream ones, so too had the non-mainstream engineers been allocated to her.
"There are few places where a battering ram can shine as well as Codon Castle."
"Indeed. A true man ought to pit strength against strength. Why they must go digging about in such a shabby fashion for moats and the like is beyond me."
The dwarves under Torim were masters of the battering ram — a tragic craft pushed to the wayside of history as the art of fortification advanced.
"This shall be the last. Let us all crown our efforts with a splendid finish."
Dwarves were stubborn, but they were no fools. They acknowledged that the stage where a battering ram could play a decisive role had grown far too narrow. After this battle, they planned to change their trade.
"We will smash that gate to pieces, no matter what!"
"It is the battering ram alone that can end a siege in a single blow! Is that not a feat neither catapults nor ladders can accomplish?"
The final masterpiece embodying all their romantic ideals! The dwarves vowed they would take the castle with the battering ram without fail.