Chapter 76: Regrouping
Chapter 76: Regrouping
The monastery had several reserve doors prepared. As manufacturing techniques had advanced since the past, the doors were far sturdier.
Marbas imbued one of them with the most powerful sealing spell he knew.
-I shouldn't have done that back then.
The emotion imbued in the spell was regret—the strongest and most enduring emotion of fickle humans, who swayed like reeds. Perhaps that made it all the better as a catalyst for a seal.
The magic refined by the great summoner through thirty years of regret completely severed the otherworld from the present realm.
"It is a success. I sense no foul energy whatsoever."
"It also blocks resentment from being drawn in from outside. Something like this should never happen again."
"Truly, you are remarkable!"
The priests marveled at Marbas's skill.
Watching them, Eugene stood down his troops from battle readiness.
"Well done. Now take your share."
It was time they were compensated for the sweat they had shed and the blood on their hands.
His subordinates helped the priests, who were still in the midst of purification work, move the corpses. While they were at it, they collected rings from fingers, necklaces from throats, and plunder hidden in clothes.
While everyone else relaxed, Eugene alone surveyed the surroundings with a sliver of wariness.
"You seem to have some concern."
"I feel we may have seen something we, as outsiders, were not meant to see."
After a moment of thought, Varda realized that the target of Eugene's caution was the priests.
"Is it because of the expeditionary force's wretched fate?"
"Yes. The truth behind an expedition recorded as a noble sacrifice was that its members fell to undeath. Wouldn't the Church want to hide that at all costs?"
His mind went to the violence he associated with medieval religious institutions and the oppressive side of the Orthodox Church he had seen while growing up in its monastery.
That prejudice kept him from relaxing, a nagging 'what if?' at the back of his mind.
"You don't need to worry about that. Shameful secret or not, far too many people saw it for them to hide what happened."
"I know I'm probably worrying for nothing, but..."
"In their long history, there have been plenty of secrets they'd want hidden even more. This much is a trifle."
"Then I am relieved."
Varda shook her head from side to side.
For someone who ran wild without a shred of fear in battle, Eugene was strangely prone to fretting over little things when he wasn't fighting.
Still, that was a hundred times better than the usual knights whose eyes lit up at the chance to boast about their exploits.
Lasta Monastery was an austere place compared to other monasteries.
Its closed-off nature meant little outside activity, while combat training for the priests and keeping silver equipment on hand cost a great deal.
Thus, there was no victory banquet like the one at Baron Est's. All they received was a service of thanks and the priests' own humble hospitality.
"This place seems to combine only the dreadful aspects of a monastery and a barracks."
Rex said, turning a piece of rye bread over and over in his hands.
With bread so hard and flat, he appeared to be barely restraining an impulse to use it for discus throwing.
Perhaps embarrassed by the poor fare, the abbot had blessed the food himself.
"Bear with it. I'm told the sudden upheaval cut off their supplies, and after enduring a siege, only preserved food remains."
"When are we heading back? I miss North Fork's plentiful food."
"As soon as the outside situation is sorted out."
Eugene and his men helped repair and clean the monastery, which had been damaged in the battle.
"We've already done more than enough. Isn't handling the cleanup as well excessive?"
"When you place someone in your debt, it pays to do so thoroughly."
Eugene tore the bread on the plate Homi held out into manageable pieces. The same bread a knife had struggled to cut ripped apart between Eugene's fingers like rotted leaves.
Homi gave a small bow.
In thanks, she brought the plate up to her pert nose. It was her habit to smell her food before eating.
Eugene found it endearing, like watching a small wild animal, but Varda found it unrefined and was making efforts to correct it.
"A report on this will go to Duke Ismar, the Relief Knight Order, and the Church as well."
"That stands to reason."
"If you compare that report to a fight, wiping out the pirates is the first hard punch to the face."
SMACK!
Eugene planted his fist into his palm.
"Clearing out the undead is another hit, and making the sealing door is one more. Though that last one is thanks to Marbas-nim."
Marbas had declared, 'Let us put it down as your achievement.' The debt he owed Eugene was one reason, but he was also delighted by the artifact he had extracted from the Death Knight.
It was a hellish gem resembling a relic bead, said to be one of the greatest treasures a summoner could possess.
"Anyone would be dazed after taking three consecutive hits. What would happen if they took a fourth?"
"Is that fourth blow the cleanup?"
"Exactly. Truth be told, it's a light punch compared to the first three. It amounts to little more than doing some labor. But it feels different when you've already taken several heavy blows in a row."
"Even the same amount of work would make them far more grateful than usual."
Rex nodded, intrigued.
Most knights did not think that far when completing a commission. If they had achieved a great deed, they wished to be treated all the more honorably for it, and that was their rightful due.
"Is it edible after soaking in soup?"
Rex shoved the bread, which he had kept submerged in his soup throughout the conversation, into his mouth.
"Still awful."
"Then give it to me."
The mercenary captain cut in and tried to take the bread.
"Hey! Hands off! When am I ever going to eat bread blessed by an abbot again?"
Mercenary piety waxed and waned with circumstance.
When abstinence was required, it thinned to a crescent moon; when a blessing was on offer, it shone like the full moon.
Since it was bread blessed personally by the abbot, everyone chewed away earnestly, insisting that eating it would wash away sins and be good for the soul.
Eugene also took care to assess the situation in the surrounding area. Even if they left everything tidily cleaned, it would all be for nothing if other pirates swarmed in.
"It is truly clear."
The scouts who had spread out in every direction also questioned travelers and merchants they encountered. Every answer was the same: 'We didn't see a single one.'
"Sir. The number of pirates we've dispatched thus far is close to five hundred."
Haind unfolded a small map distributed to officers and showed it to Eugene. He drew his index finger across the space between Baron Est's territory and Lasta Monastery.
"Our army has only passed through a small part of the North. Finding five hundred in an area this narrow means we've practically wiped out every pirate nearby."
"If anything, an unusually large number had gathered there. I think it is safe to say the area is secure."
Marbas took up Haind's point.
He was in rough shape after pouring so much power into making the sealing door.
A monastery was a domain thickly steeped in holy energy and faith. It was not a good place for a summoner who drew power from other worlds to recover. He seemed to wish to leave this place as soon as possible.
Eugene nodded.
"Let's call the journey here. We'll head back to North Fork."
A commander must know when to withdraw. In truth, they had already gained far more in both wealth and honor than they had envisioned when they set out. Even if he grew greedier, there would be nothing left to gain in the vicinity.
The army departed the monastery amid a grand send-off.
"We have carefully gathered the remains of the old expeditionary force and held a funeral for them. May the tormented souls of those men find rest."
Andrew decided to remain at the monastery a little longer to compose himself.
"We can never thank you enough for what you have done for our monastery, Sir."
The monastery head recorded the relief force's achievements in detail and sent a carrier pigeon to Duke Ismar.
It could be considered an even greater accomplishment than the spoils gained from sweeping away the pirates. For they had made a favorable impression on the ruler of the North.
Eugene took a different route back than the one they had followed from Baron Est's domain to Lasta Monastery.
For Marbas was not the only one in the party who needed to recover his strength.
When they made camp at the edge of the woods in the early evening, Varda went walking in the forest to draw in the essence of nature.
"Are the soldiers complaining? I'm sorry for making everyone take a detour because of me. It must be colder here too."
Winter, robbed of the world by spring, was waging its final resistance in the forest.
"Not at all. Anyone who complains will get stomped flat by angry mercenaries."
"Hehe. You exaggerate."
"I'm serious."
The mossy, slippery trail was overgrown with weeds, yet trees drew back their branches and thickets withered of their own accord to clear a path.
At the head of the column walked a fairy of the forest, working miracles as her brilliant golden hair streamed behind her.
To the mercenaries, the sight meant far more than simply, 'Ah! Our mage is capable.'
"Without Varda-nim, we could never have wiped them out so completely."
At the camp, no small number of the mercenaries went about wearing three or four necklaces apiece. The sight put Varda's heart considerably more at ease.
"You don't need to come with me. We're only walking, so you'll be bored."
"I'm not bored at all. I need to be ready in case something happens."
"The army is right nearby, so there is no need to worry. Even if something unexpected happens, nothing can catch an elf in the forest."
Varda clenched her fists and bounced lightly in place. It was a novel sight from a woman who was normally so dignified.
"That is under normal circumstances. You're barefoot right now. Can you still run at full speed like that?"
"..."
It was all the more endearing precisely because she was barefoot.
To swiftly recover her forest magic, merely walking and breathing would not suffice.
The soil and the grass seeds slumbering beneath it, the rising shoots, the traces of footprints carved by wild beasts passing to and fro over millennia, the tree roots communing with the earth's energy.
The most effective method was to press her bare skin against all of it and absorb the spiritual energy it carried.
But she could hardly strip naked and roll around on the ground, so she had settled on walking barefoot.
It was said to be a traditional technique commonly used by forest mages and druids.
"Be careful where you step. Don't get a thorn in your foot."
"Any elf who injured her foot while walking through a forest would be disqualified as an elf."
"Aren't your feet cold?"
"Not in the least."
Varda drew a great breath in and let it out with a whoosh.
"I drink in the forest's energy through my feet as naturally as breathing. The warmth in that essence wraps around me more snugly than any fur-lined shoes could."
In truth, a rosy warmth of life suffused her clean insteps. They showed none of the blue pallor brought on by winter's chill.
Trickle, trickle.
"Is this place all right?"
"Mmm."
At the water's edge, however, where the winter brook spread and flowed, she came to a halt.
"I guess this is one thing even you can't overcome."
"Water is a mystery belonging to a realm separate from the forest, after all."
Her long ears flicked in consternation.
"Leave this part to me."
"Wha—? Eek!"
Eugene caught Varda off guard and swept her up into his arms, one arm behind her knees and the other around her waist.
"W-Wait."
Before the flustered Varda could protest, he bounded across the stretch of cold running water.
The elf woman clasped her hands at her chest and started to protest, then shut her mouth. Only her long ears trembled, betraying her feelings.
"Welcome back, Sir."
When they returned to camp, the mercenaries greeted them. Fat sizzled and dripped from meat roasting over the fire.
A short distance away, a tribal warrior was thrusting the bloodletting dagger into the heart of a beast he had just hunted.
Gush!
The mercenaries grimaced at the blood gushing out like a fountain.
"Aren't those guys afraid of curses?"
The mercenaries, fearing the profane magic dagger, would not lay a finger on it, but the tribal warrior paid no heed. He was accustomed to sorceries far more bizarre.
"Move your legs a little farther back and draw your shoulders in."
She nodded twice.
In the clearing beside the encampment, Homi, who had received a spare bow, was learning mounted archery from a tribal warrior.
"As you'd expect from a former hunter, her basic form with a bow is already solid."
Even to Eugene, Homi looked remarkably steady as she rode and loosed arrows from horseback.
"Is she good enough to use it in a real fight?"
"Yes. She rides well and has excellent instincts. A little more experience should be enough."
Eugene's army was now operating primarily as a cavalry force. Having received no formal knightly training, Homi needed to switch her main armament to the bow.
Her keen senses, her sight, and her sense of smell were also better suited to supporting Eugene with a ranged weapon.
Most importantly, Homi had an enormous advantage as a prospective horse archer.
"I never imagined she could use her tail like that."
The tribal warrior stroked his chin in admiration.
Homi was using her thick tail to brace against her horse's body and keep her balance.
"It's a trick only a snow leopard beastkin could pull off."
"It is certainly remarkably long and thick."
Homi's tail was one and a half times as long as those of other beastkin and more than twice as thick. Naturally, it also contained far more muscle.
"Back when we lived in the countryside, that tail was incredibly popular. The village children loved arm-wrestling it, and in winter she even used it as a scarf for the kids who clung to her."
Imagining the scene, even the tribal warrior broke into a smile.
Homi quickly got the hang of it and began using her tail freely in mounted archery.
When she turned her body sideways to shoot, she hooked her tail on the opposite side like a grapple to anchor herself.
"Good heavens!"
When she even reached the point of drawing arrows from the quiver with her tail, the two onlookers' faces went blank with astonishment.
"Is that a skill other beastkin could manage?"
"No. Their tails are too weak. They are about the strength of a little finger, so gripping and drawing anything from horseback is impossible."
To be fair, the warrior was flattering her somewhat because she was Eugene's squire.
But this remarkable young woman was an evolving fighter. Teach her one thing and she grasped two, opening up new possibilities as she learned.
Riding Sandy back around, Homi brandished an arrow clutched in her tail this way and that. She was showing off a talent only she could perform.
Twang!
Then in the span of an instant she twisted her waist and shot the tree behind her.
Twang!
Immediately she nocked the arrow held in her tail and loosed a second shot as though firing in rapid succession.
"Impressive."
"Hmph!"
"Next time we camp, you two can go hunting together. The best way to learn is to use it for real."
Homi nodded with a beaming smile.
Her lord's growing fame and the increasing strength of the army he led were exactly what Homi had wanted.
But she was disappointed that it left her with less and less to do at his side in battle.
The hope of fighting beside her lord on future battlefields was as sweet to Homi as rain after a long drought.