Chapter 8: One Who Understands the Three Worlds (8)
Chapter 8: One Who Understands the Three Worlds (8)
Marcus belonged to the fringes of Barsian nobility.
There were the First Clans who reigned supreme at the very top, and the pureblood families who maintained noble blood even if they fell short of that mark.
These haughty vampires controlled most of Barsian high society.
Below them were the numerous mixed-bloods known as dhampirs. They were the largest group by population, yet were treated as little more than commoners.
The dhampirs claimed that they too were nobility of the night, but their claims were met with ridicule more often than not.
Marcus was the most famous knight and lord among all the dhampirs.
He had challenged six pureblood knights who had insulted him as a half-breed and won every single duel against them.
He was striking enough to make even his enemies falter face-to-face, and he had the leadership to unite purebloods and dhampirs under him like brothers.
He was an emerging noble of the night whom no one could deny. That said, it also meant he had to face just as many enemies and troubles.
Marcus was far too important—and far too constrained—to come racing to a southwestern backwater in the middle of the night. But he had no choice.
"The young lady will be unharmed."
His only younger sister, Maria, had been captured—and by the vicious bastards of the Orthodox Church, no less.
"It's said that nothing has happened yet since the wagon entered the temple. If we rush in now, we can save her."
"Those bastards probably also never imagined we would cross the Kingdom of Gord and come all the way here."
Marcus nodded at his subordinates' reassurances.
His sister had been captured because Marcus's political enemies had seized the opportunity of his absence to lay a scheme.
To rise up through noble society with the status of dhampir, both siblings had to exert every ounce of their strength.
His sister had been sent far away on a discreet negotiation she could hardly refuse, and then all contact with her had ceased.
"It's the frontier, so Maria let her guard down."
She was a capable child, but still lacking in experience.
"Even so, it's strange. She had hired mercenaries with her, and those Orthodox Church bastards shouldn't have enough freedom to run rampant like this."
"Either the mercenaries were bought off, or a rival house abducted her and handed her over to the Orthodox Church. There's no end to the possibilities if we start counting."
Marcus decided not to dwell on what had already happened.
The rescue came first for now. Once he got Maria back, he could learn all the details of what had occurred.
"If they so much as touched a single hair on the young lady, we will not forgive them. We'll burn down not just the monastery, but the entire village!"
Marcus stopped the pale, enraged knight from going further.
His name was Aaron. He was one of the six vampires who had insulted Marcus, received a challenge to a duel, and was defeated.
While the others had retreated grinding their teeth, Aaron had acknowledged the outcome cleanly and apologized for his transgression.
Afterward, he had become one of Marcus's most fervent followers and now pursued the same dream beside him. The two of them were the only knights in the group.
"I appreciate the sentiment, but I do not wish to harm the ignorant and the weak as well."
Aaron held back his urge to argue.
To his mind, Marcus was a man who, considering his abilities, had received the most unreasonable treatment in the entire world.
Perhaps because of that, Marcus also hated to oppress the innocent.
Marcus had a gift for seeing the grievance each person carried and soothing it. Perhaps that was the secret of his popularity.
"For a backwater hovel, it's pretty large."
"Even so, there's no lord, let alone a standing guard force."
"That probably means it's far from any war. And even if you took it, the land would be next to useless."
The subordinates spoke with confidence.
It was night, but they all possessed eyes that could pierce through darkness.
Angled stakes ringed the outskirts of the village. They were meant to deter beasts and monsters, not an invading army.
The village was large in scale and had many monks, so no ordinary bandit gang would be able to run amok here.
"Remember, our objective is not plunder. We may have to fight, but we came to sink our blades into them, not our fangs."
As always, it fell to Marcus to cool his subordinates' hot blood.
"Understood."
"There will be nothing to dishonor our lord's name."
Once Marcus nodded, everyone donned their helmets.
Their fighting spirit burned fiercely, but no one shouted. More than a dozen riders glided through the darkness and shot toward the village gate like arrows.
Eugene was in the middle of searching the inside of the sealed shrine.
There was no lighting, and the night was pitch-dark. For Eugene, who had honed all five senses to a razor's edge, that posed no problem.
'I think it was around here.'
Since he had come inside a few times in the past, he quickly located the spot where his mother's keepsakes were.
A book describing the mystic arts of witches, and his mother's diary. He gathered up the two most important volumes.
Both were written in Elven script—the magical equivalent of C—so he could not read them. Eugene had learned only the continental common script and the ancient kingdom's writing.
Aside from the books, there was also a staff twisted into a bizarre shape, a talisman imbued with shamanistic meaning, and a crystal orb of murky black light.
He didn't need to take those three. They held no magical power, nor were they objects laden with memories of his mother.
His mother had used the staff to support her weakened knees while traveling, the talisman had exhausted its magic, and the crystal ball was merely a placebo for villagers who came seeking prophecies.
'They're needlessly bulky and would be noticed right away if they vanished.'
Eugene turned away without any lingering attachment.
As he left the sealed shrine, his heart thumped with excitement—not from nerves, but from anticipation for the future.
Kingdom's End was a place he had grown fond of, a peaceful village, but it was also a stagnant place. Honestly, it could not cool his boiling blood.
It was just one thing—it was a shame he had no horse.
Goffrey had given Eugene everything: a family's affection, literacy, a knight's combat arts, noble speech, and even his armor.
But he would not yield his horse.
-Don't go staring with greedy eyes. I'm not giving you this one.
Goffrey had grumbled before Eugene left the village.
-I was not looking with greed.
Eugene, who felt needlessly guilty, averted his eyes.
-Aren't you at an age where your stamina declines? Going on a long journey, you should of course have a horse.
-My stamina is still as good as any young man's. But at least this fellow here needs to stay by my side in my later years, or this old man will wither from loneliness.
-If you put it that way, doesn't it make me look like the villain?
-So you do feel the pangs of conscience? It seems you won't have any pain to feel in the future, so you ought to feel some pain right now.
Goffrey had laughed heartily. But Eugene had been able to feel the sorrow of parting beneath that laughter.
Thinking of his departed master left an unexpected ache in his chest.
"That damned smell, really."
What cut off his reminiscence was the stench of the underground prison. He had already passed through the passage and returned to the prison area.
He heard soft, rhythmic breathing.
Snoooore...
All three women were still asleep. The noble girl was even snoring with a contented smile.
She lay sprawled out like a starfish, every trace of her usual dignity abandoned.
"..."
Eugene neatly gathered the girl's legs together and placed both her hands atop her belly. It was a courtesy, in case her maids woke up before she did and she would be embarrassed.
Then he closed his eyes and focused on his hearing. He intended to slip out quietly when there were no priests outside.
As his senses closed one by one, the stench that had tormented his nose vanished. All his nerves concentrated on his hearing, and Eugene's world pierced through the walls and expanded.
One of Goffrey's great teachings.
"Clear out if you don't want to die!"
The well-armed mounted troops broke through the entrance in a single stroke and galloped through the village center.
The peaceful country night turned deadly tense in an instant.
The volunteer watchmen patrolling with torches jumped aside so quickly they might as well have cried, 'Welcome! Come right in!'
Their usual swagger and boasting vanished without a trace.
"What the hell are those things?"
"Is it a bandit gang charging in, dear?"
"Mom, those people's eyes are shining."
Terrified eyes peered at the intruders through the gaps in shutters and windows.
The knight clad in the finest armor among the mounted riders came forward and raised his visor.
"We have not come to harm you. Close your windows, and we will not look upon you either. Return to your beds and close your eyes. Then tomorrow morning you will wake among your families, no different than usual. I promise this."
Marcus's words carried an irresistible force.
Bang! Bang! The sound of wooden doors slamming shut echoed from every direction.
"I say it again, we have come not to wage war, but to rescue."
"Yes!"
Shouts filled with confidence.
"But neither is there any need to hesitate to kill. Value a single scratch on your own bodies more than a hundred lives of those Orthodox Church bastards."
"Yes!!!"
The second answer came louder, respect now mixed with confidence.
At the entrance of the monastery, two armed priests holding spears were on guard duty.
"There! Halt!"
"Riding your horses into a sacred monastery in the dead of night! Do you not fear the wrath of God?!"
Hearing the sound of hoofbeats, the armed priest leveled his spear.
Customs varied by order, but night duty usually took the form of an all-night prayer kept by a monk with a quarterstaff.
Cities with good public order usually had professional guard forces, so even that practice was often omitted.
Places like the Orthodox Church, which stood guard bearing bladed weapons like a guard force, were rare. One priest had even drawn his bowstring all the way back.
Ting!
The arrow flew but bounced off the shield of the lead rider.
"It's not just one or two!"
When the priest realized the intruders revealed by torchlight were a cavalry unit better armed than expected, his complexion changed.
"Emergency!"
"We're under attack!"
A whistle blew, and the sleeping monastery began to stir awake.
"Aaargh!"
By that point, the priest who had shot the arrow had taken a cavalry crossbow bolt to the leg and been dragged away with a lasso snared around his neck.
The other one had his spear shaft cut by the sword Marcus swung and was struck by the horses that the soldiers drove forward and sent flying.
Marcus leaped down from his horse and immediately seized the fallen priest by the throat.
"Where are the dhampir women you captured?"
Simultaneous with the question, he stabbed the priest in the thigh with his dagger.
Thunk!
"Aaaagh!"
"If you do not answer, I will twist this three full turns as it is."
In his experience, almost no one talked immediately just because they were asked. In a hurry, this was the most efficient way to interrogate someone.
"The, the underground prison! They're in the underground prison!"
"Where is that? Speak in detail."
Marcus twisted the dagger half a turn as he asked.
"Aaaaaagh!"
That too came from experience. Plenty of men answered the first question after one blow, then hesitated at the second out of loyalty to their organization.
"That way! Go that way, turn right, then straaaaight! It's a single path and it drops suddenly down below ground, so it'll be easy to find! Look for the place that stinks like a sewer!"
The priest, his face a mess of tears and snot, added detailed explanations, fearing the dagger might twist again.
"Thank you."
Thwack!
Marcus pulled out his dagger and struck the priest's neck with the pommel, knocking him unconscious.
"Let's go!"
The rescue party stormed into the interior of the monastery.
A handful of priests urgently rushing over came into view. Each of them was clutching a polearm fitted with a blade.
It was still only a few, but soon they would swell to dozens.
"We will hold them here!"
"I leave it to you!"
As planned, the men most skilled with shields took the front.
"If any of you wants a hole drilled in your carcass, come on!"
They lined up large square shields side by side in front and threatened the priests with short spears.
'Please be safe, my sister.'
Moonlight poured down upon Marcus's refined face.
Even as the dhampir's skin and the chill moonlight merged, the affection for his one and only blood relative kept warmth alive upon his face.
"Over there!"
The skirmisher running at the vanguard, armed with a buckler and an estoc, pointed to the underground chamber ahead.
The stench crept into their dhampir-sensitive noses, but smiles appeared on everyone's lips.
The operation was unfolding more smoothly than expected, without the variables they had been worried about.