Chapter 63: Prophecy (2)
Chapter 63: Prophecy (2)
When the wandering peoples gathered for the festival, northern Roman was the preferred region. It lay near the center of the continent and offered easy travel along rivers connected to the Inland Sea.
"The festival grounds are near the docks, so you needn't worry about security."
"Even with an invitation, bringing too many armed humans inside wouldn't do any good."
Eugene boarded the ship with a small escort.
"Sir Haind. I leave things to you while I am gone."
"Rest assured."
Haind saluted and saw Eugene off.
He remained behind in the domain to handle defense and receive visitors. With his thoughtful nature and merchant-family upbringing, he was fairly skilled at both.
Haind was pleased as well, since the assignment gave him a chance to meet and build connections with various knights.
As the merchant ship cut through the current, the mercenaries whistled. They had spent their lives inland, so gliding along a great river by ship was an enjoyable novelty.
"All right, listen up! The mage says anyone who gets seasick should take one of these."
Every mercenary raised a hand when the captain brought over the medicine.
"You bastards! Do not just wolf these down because they are here. Only the ones who actually get seasick should raise their hands!"
"Captain, you'd have to have been on a ship before to know if you get seasick or not."
"Did you forget we're all a bunch of bumpkins?"
As its name suggested, the medicine only prevented seasickness, but the mercenaries didn't care about such fine distinctions.
'If it's a medicine concocted by the sorceress, it must be good for body and soul.'
A mysterious elf and a brilliant mage—combine the two, and the mercenaries wanted to cram the medicine into their mouths without caring what it actually did.
"This is expensive! Get away!"
The mercenary captain batted away the hands reaching at him from every direction like grasping wights.
"Did you say expensive?!"
"Woaaaaah!"
But the word "expensive" only made the clamor grow louder.
The passengers were a varied lot: peddlers, pilgrims, mercenaries, adventurers, free knights, bards, scribes, and even criminals under escort.
Among them, Eugene spotted several Relief Knights in black surcoats and went over. Now that he was a lord, theirs was a faction he especially wanted to befriend.
"My thanks for the service you rendered to my fief."
Secular knights merely rested while waiting for the ship, but Relief Knights lived up to their name by providing medical aid.
"Offer your thanks in prayer instead. We have only offered our bodies to God's will."
Even after boarding, the Relief Knight apparently had no intention of sitting idle; he was tending to pilgrims aboard the ship.
"It'll have to be lanced."
The pilgrim stretched out a leg swollen with pus. Holding a sterilized medical knife, the old knight offered him strong rum.
Gulp, gulp.
"I-I am ready."
The pilgrim spoke with a resolute face, but the old knight shook his head.
"That is not enough. Drink more."
Gulp, gulp, gulp, gulp.
"Buuurp."
"Now, bite down hard on this."
Once the pilgrim bit down on the clean cloth, the blade cut into his flesh.
"!!!"
The pilgrim trembled with his eyes wide and let out a groan.
The old knight skillfully drained the pus through the smallest incision possible. After disinfecting the wound and applying ointment, he bandaged it tightly.
To Eugene, the white-haired old knight looked far older even than Goffrey. When Eugene tactfully asked about his age, the Relief Knight smiled.
"There is no retirement for us. The enemies we must fight are not only monsters. Hunger and sickness are also our enemies."
"Perhaps monsters can be eradicated someday. But are not the other two impossible? They seem like problems that can never truly be solved."
"Then our holy struggle shall also carry on eternally."
"..."
If anything, the Relief Knight looked delighted that his duty would never end. There was madness behind the piety in his eyes.
Knights and priests. Each, in their own way, burned with fanatical devotion. A monastic knight who merged the two, then, was indeed more than a little unhinged.
During the journey, Rex explained the details of the festival.
"I understood it as an event for fostering friendship among the tribes, but it is more than that."
"They trade information and spoils they've acquired among one another, and hold all manner of contests. Those who have fallen in love with members of other tribes come forward and exchange blood as well."
The dark elves were a small people whose pride reached the heavens. Naturally, mixing their blood with other races was taboo, though they rarely fell in love with outsiders in the first place.
Thus, this gathering became an opportunity to form marriages between tribes and mingle bloodlines.
"About the traditional garb you gave me—I found it far too splendid. Surely not everyone wears something like that?"
"Of course not. That one is terribly expensive."
"That would be expected, with all the gold leaf you put into it."
It stood out so greatly that Eugene could not accept the gesture with unreserved pleasure.
Wearing the finest traditional robes as an outsider, and a human at that, was bound to draw the ire of some.
"If a human like me wears it, might that not cause trouble at a happy occasion?"
"Do not worry about it. It is still a place where people live. Granted, we are rough, cruel, and tend to look down on humans."
"Are you mocking me?"
"Perish the thought! Everything I said ceases to matter if you are strong. What better pass is there than strength—so pure and undeniable?"
Aside from the Black Hand Tribe, which made its living as a mercenary company, every clan had skilled warriors of its own.
Banking, transport, nomadism, and plunder. Whatever the trade, it required armed force, and many tribes combined two or three such trades.
Rex was certain there was not a single warrior among them who could compare with the knight before him.
"With the knight's strength and my guarantee, there will be no problem."
Seeing Rex thump his chest brought something to mind.
"Now that I think of it, I heard them call you Young Master."
"Ah, so you heard. I am undeserving, but I am the sub-chieftain of the tribe."
"I wonder if I should start speaking formally to you even now."
"Hahahaha!"
Rex seemed to take it as a joke, but Eugene was half-serious.
The Black Hand Mercenary Company was a large organization with its own mages, smiths, and even officials. In practice, it was little different from a powerful noble house.
Indeed, Roman nobles had repeatedly tried to grant them titles and bring them in as vassals. The offers had simply been rejected with derisive snorts.
"It is the same as when you permitted me to keep calling you simply 'sir knight.' I, too, am forever just Rex before you."
That was the nature of Rex's people: proud and haughty as they were, once they acknowledged someone, they gave that person their whole heart.
"Moreover, we are a matriarchal society. By blood, I do hold the position of sub-chieftain, but that does not necessarily mean I will become the future leader."
Their harsh wandering life made dangerous work and battle routine. Men died at a high rate, and they were often away on long operations.
That seemed to be why a culture had developed in which women governed the tribe's affairs, great and small.
"Then is the current chieftain your mother?"
"My aunt. I am learning a great deal from her. I was the one who asked her to teach me."
"I see."
Eugene asked no further. For it was likely that Rex's parents were no longer in this world.
The festival grounds were packed with people. Countless tents covered the plains along the river, and laughter and chatter filled the air.
Endless columns of wagons and livestock stretched beyond the horizon. Those were the tribes that combined nomadism and commerce.
"Just having money circulate between the clans like this must help bring them together."
"Of course. We are children of the forest too. Livestock raised by dark elves is meatier and tastier than animals raised by humans."
They lived scattered throughout the world. Thanks to that, they could hold an event on this scale without relying on settled peoples.
"Has no enemy with a grudge ever attacked while everyone was gathered like this?"
With all these tribes assembled, a proper attack could endanger their very existence as a people.
With their exceptional abilities and characteristic belligerence, the dark elves inevitably made plenty of enemies.
"Whoever would dare? The moment they touched a single tent, armed folk would pour out from every side like a swarm of bees."
Among intelligent races, dark elves had the highest proportion of warriors in their population.
It was not as though they trained boy-soldiers from childhood. They simply took up weapons by instinct, and even non-combatants felt no fear when the time came to fight.
"See there—the woman stirring the pot with a ladle, and the girl slicing radishes—if things went wrong, they would grab the nearest thing and charge. They would kill at least two before dying."
Though Eugene could respect their spirit, as one who drew a clear line between combatant and non-combatant, he found the notion somewhat troubling.
As he went farther in, Eugene saw more members of other races than he had expected.
Sweat-soaked laborers and street vendors, men practicing tricks in ridiculous costumes, a painter swiftly sketching portraits—most of them were human.
"It seems they are fairly welcoming to outsiders during the festival."
"That is part of it. Besides, do we not need laborers for odd jobs and entertainers to liven things up? That sort of work is obviously for hu..."
"Hm? What?"
"Ah, nothing. Haha."
Rex had almost blurted out, 'That sort of work is exactly what humans are for,' but caught himself just in time.
Eugene entered the sector where the Black Hand Tribe was lodged. As a powerful faction, they had been assigned a fine spot.
"Welcome, Lord Rex."
"So that is the honored guest."
The heavily armed guards greeted them respectfully.
"Sir Knight, I would like to attend to you personally, but I must excuse myself here. As sub-chieftain, I have many duties."
"Coming to fetch me yourself was already pushing it, was it not? Go on."
Rex bowed his thanks to Eugene, who understood what went unspoken.
"Could you lift your arm a little more, please?"
Surrounded by two young dark elf women, Eugene donned the traditional garb. The garment itself was easy to wear, but there were points that required an expert's touch, including the knot of the sash.
Once he was fully dressed, he met with the chieftain Alessa.
"Our traditional garb suits you very well indeed."
Alessa, who welcomed him, was a beauty with the same silver hair and blue-grey skin as Rex.
Her clothing was closer to that of a priestess than a faction leader. Given the warrior tribe's matriarchal society, she seemed to be responsible for lore, rites, and similar duties.
"During the festival, please think of yourself as one of the family. Every place beneath our banner is now your home."
"I am looking forward to this even more than I did my knighting ceremony. I intend to enjoy it to the fullest."
"Even if it is a joke, that is pleasant to hear."
Alessa smiled gently. She had never imagined that a knight of Roman would say he looked forward to it more than his own knighting ceremony. As Rex had said, he was an unusual man.
"Even the elders had only seen the Wendigo in records. It is a frightful magical beast. Had it not been for you, some of our warriors would have been wounded or killed. On behalf of their families, I thank you."
As befitted a chieftain, Alessa showed none of her people's characteristic sense of superiority or arrogance. She maintained the expressions, tone, and gestures appropriate to diplomacy and negotiation.
Meanwhile, her own mind was racing furiously.
'Could this knight really be the man from the prophecy?'
Eugene was not being welcomed so warmly merely because of his outstanding martial prowess or because Rex revered him as a warrior.
That alone would not have earned him the gift of traditional garb.
The real reason was the last prophecy delivered by the tribe's renowned twin witches.
-Destruction draws near our clan. Not even a thousand spears shall stand against it.
-The sole salvation is within a cradle... yet we may ascend as guests...
-Seek the greatest of knights. By his hand shall the custom of hospitality be upheld.
Most prophecies were vague, nebulous things. There was no precedent for one this clear, with lines that connected into a long, coherent passage.
The Black Hand Tribe had begun as an assassin organization before becoming a mercenary company. They could never entirely distance themselves from superstition.
An emergency had arisen, one that even Alessa and the seasoned elders could not easily dismiss.
-He is the All-Conquering Knight and Monster Slayer, a great warrior who destroyed a ship with a thrown spear and captured a castle alone.
Hearing Rex's report amidst all that, she wondered if there could be a knight who fit the prophecy more perfectly.
Other candidates might appear, but for now Alessa clearly needed to devote herself to the honored guest already in her care.
"Please think of this place as your home while you stay. We shall serve your comrades with all sincerity as well."
"My thanks for your consideration, Chieftain."
Alessa pressed her hands together at her navel and bowed with grace.
Eugene did not know it, but this was the first time a Black Hand chieftain had ever bowed to a human. He was also the first human to receive their traditional clothing and an invitation to the festival.