Chapter 92: Housewarming (2)
Chapter 92: Housewarming (2)
A knight and squire shared the same fate. The squire handled all manner of minor tasks, including maintaining the equipment.
It was also a squire's duty to tend to knights killed or wounded in duels and tournaments, or to follow their knight into the jaws of death on the battlefield.
In some ways, the bond could be closer than the one a knight shared with his wife, but the way knights treated their squires varied wildly.
-Aaaagh!
-Making that much fuss over a single blow? Stand straight. On the battlefield you won't have the leisure to fall even when struck by a sword!
It was hardly unusual for knights, under the strain of war, to resort to cruelty and assault.
-I am Arson, third son of the Rotten family.
-I've heard much about you. I look forward to working together. Is the head of the family in good health?
When one met a knight of character, or when a squire was taken on through political exchanges between families, the treatment was rather decent.
In cases where a deep bond formed, a knight would treat his squire like family and even bequeath equipment or horses.
'Could there ever be another knight and squire like these two?'
In the mercenary captain's eyes, Eugene and Homi had a uniquely special relationship even among such pairs.
When shaving Eugene, Homi was like a trusted maidservant; in battle, an excellent comrade; in peacetime, a watchdog whose keen nose and ears thwarted assassins.
-Homi. What sort of bearing is that for a squire serving a great knight? You must conduct yourself with dignity.
Except in special places like the lord's manor balcony, Homi liked to sit at Eugene's feet.
The mercenaries thought it endearing, like a loyal hound, but Varda did not approve.
-Being positioned low like this makes it easier to detect suspicious smells or presences, apparently.
-I worry others will see and speak ill of it. You are no longer merely a knight but an established member of noble society.
-We have our own ways.
When Eugene emerged from the water, Homi dried his wet body with a towel. At times like this, they looked like an affectionate brother and sister.
"A noble envoy came, you say?"
He hadn't kept his return a secret, but he hadn't gone out of his way to announce it either. He had wanted to focus wholly on the Wandering Castle.
"Sent by Duke Ismar."
For Eugene, who had been thinking of the neighboring Baron Yones or Baron Est, it was an unexpected name.
"Where are the supply convoy and the envoy waiting?"
"I've had them wait in the hall for now."
It was a castle they had only just occupied, so everything remained generally unsettled. Guest rooms for receiving visitors or a banquet hall and the like had not been prepared at all.
"Did the envoy not take offense?"
"Not at all."
To Eugene, who voiced a natural concern, the mercenary captain grinned.
"Quite the opposite. His eyes were wide as an owl's as he looked around at everything."
The mercenary captain had been right.
When Eugene descended to the hall, the waiting figures straightened their postures. Their faces bore no trace of discomfort, only curiosity and wonder.
"The supplies are in good order."
Hoffman approached and reported.
He was a large mercenary who had been with them since Bonyard, a good-natured former peddler who had been injured saving children from bandits.
He had shown competence in managing munitions, and Eugene had appointed him quartermaster. He was, in effect, the first vassal Eugene had taken on after rising to knighthood.
"Well done. Settle the payment and move everything to the warehouse."
"Understood. And, sir..."
"What is it?"
"The camp merchants say they wish to see the freezing chambers inside the castle."
Hoffman pointed to the men with earnest expressions. It was the Harris Trading Company, which Eugene had hired for the river crossing. Through an additional contract, they had also taken on the task of supply support to the Wandering Castle.
"Congratulations on your victory!"
"Thank you. You arrived sooner than expected, too."
The merchants bowed humbly.
They had known Eugene was up to something in the wasteland, but never had they imagined it would concern the legendary Wandering Castle.
He had forged deep ties with the Black Hand Tribe and was a formidable knight in his own right. With the castle's prestige behind him as well, there was no way to treat him like some ordinary country lord.
"We heard there are large magical refrigeration and freezing chambers. We would be grateful if you would allow us to see them for ourselves."
"It's hardly a difficult request. Hoffman, show them the way."
The camp merchants' faces lit up.
-It's a castle that can move anywhere, they say.
-They say it appeared at Rostock in an instant and vanished in an instant.
Rather than simply going back empty-handed, finding out at least one thing would keep them from being treated as incompetents before their superiors.
"If you've brought cloaks, put on another layer. The place is so cold your beard will frost over within minutes."
"Incredible!"
At Hoffman's words, the merchants marveled.
The greatest obstacle to logistics in this era was spoilage. Yet here was a castle with freezing warehouses like those found only in the far north, where snow never melted year-round.
Combined with a wandering castle, the implications for trade were beyond imagining.
"Congratulations on your safe return."
Afterward, the chief representative of Duke Ismar's envoy paid his respects. As a man entrusted with diplomatic duties under a duke, he too was a minor noble.
"Thank you for the congratulations. I never imagined the Duke would be the first to send an envoy."
"His Grace was concerned that some might try underhanded schemes while the master was away. He commanded that should any sign of outside interference appear, it be quelled in his name."
"Most gracious indeed."
"His Grace cherishes even the smallest of connections."
Even allowing for the good impression he had made, this was remarkable consideration for someone who had not even sworn vassalage.
"Besides, did you not capture the Emperor's spies and thereby uphold His Grace's honor? He is a man who is exacting in both reward and punishment."
The scribe smiled.
"Yet when I arrived at your estate, I was told you had already returned and then led your army into the wasteland."
"And so you came along, hearing that a supply unit was setting out?"
"Indeed."
The envoy had received an explanation from the cavalry assigned as guides and escorts, but frankly had not quite believed it.
Yet seeing the wide-open castle gate, the soldiers on guard beyond it, and the dwarves engaged in repair work on all sides, he became certain.
A new master had taken possession of the legendary Wandering Castle.
"I must now return and report to His Grace."
"You came all the way down to my domain and crossed the wasteland — why not rest a while before going? You must be weary."
"I appreciate the thought, but I hear you are busy restoring the castle and I would rather not be a distraction. Cleaning is easier when a house is empty than when a guest is in the way, is it not?"
As a man sent to mediate disputes on the Duke's behalf, he knew how to read the situation.
"Above all, I wish to convey this news to His Grace as swiftly as possible."
And loyalty as well.
The scribe departed after hearing several more pieces of information from Eugene.
That Eugene had been acknowledged as the castle's master, and that its disappearance from Rostock had also been his doing, among other things.
"Ha! What a sight."
Marbas marveled at the view from the rooftop of the Wandering Castle.
"Don't they say it's tragedy up close, comedy from afar?"
"A fine saying. Even the barren and dangerous wasteland has considerable charm when viewed thus."
Far more of the creatures roaming the desert, including the scorpion monster Eugene had slain, were visible than he had expected.
Observing monsters from a place of perfect safety was a strange and fascinating experience.
Even during rest hours, a good number of the mercenaries under his command had come up to watch.
"Do you not intend to move the castle soon?"
"It has been teleported twice in succession recently, so the castle requires more rest."
"I suppose so. For a mass of stone this size to cross space, it would need an ocean of mystic power."
"Moreover, the constraints on teleportation destinations are severe, and the margin of error is not small."
"The fact that the castle sits deep in a wasteland like this tells us as much."
Teleportation was so imprecise that it was more fitting to say it went to a particular region rather than a specific location.
If he had his way, he would have liked to place it beyond the river at North Fork, but it might have landed in some entirely wrong place.
"Besides, the guests we've been waiting for should arrive soon. Even if we are leaving, we should welcome them first."
"Guests, you say?"
"The Black Hand Tribe. Chieftain Alessa herself is coming with the elders."
"It does not seem we are in a position to offer proper hospitality at the moment."
Marbas looked concerned. For nobles, hospitality was a matter of family honor and pride.
At present, the castle had many collapsed or damaged sections, and after long neglect it required a thorough cleaning.
"Besides, most of the supplies you received were military rations."
The location was a problem, but what he could offer was also limited to hard, dried bread and jerky preserved for longevity. Compared to the hospitality Eugene had received when invited to festivals, it was a truly pitiful standard.
"A proper feast inviting the entire tribe will be held at a later date. For now, I wish to first relieve your worries about the prophesied destruction. Do you remember the final verse of the prophecy?"
"Find the greatest knight. The custom of hospitality shall be upheld by him."
"You remember it precisely."
Marbas had discussed the prophecy with Alessa dozens of times. The sage's counsel had been worth its weight in gold, after all.
"If all we need is to fulfill the custom of hospitality, it will not take much."
"Bread and salt. Those two should suffice."
Marbas nodded, understanding Eugene's intent. If he meant to perform a ritual rather than a banquet, then austerity or simplicity was not an issue.
"We received fresh bread with the new supply, and the Wandering Castle's food stores have salt in abundance."
Over the long ages, the provisions scattered throughout the castle had either been devoured by monsters or had rotted away entirely. But the salt alone had remained intact.
Some time later, more than a hundred dark elves bearing the banners of the Black Hand Tribe arrived before the castle.
Despite being a race that enjoyed youth for an exceptionally long time, many among them bore the visage of middle age or elder years, and some even looked ancient.
The chieftain, elders, warriors of centurion rank, and those in charge of the tribe's key administration had all gathered.
"This may be the first time in their history that all the elders who govern the tribe have left together."
"I've had so many firsts by now that they don't excite me much anymore."
Considering their influence and martial power, it was a visit so extraordinary that even a great lord would come out beyond the castle walls to welcome them, yet Eugene remained composed.
"I offer my congratulations on your great achievement, Lord of the Castle. Please, accept our humble sincerity."
Chieftain Alessa, whom he had not seen in some time, was beaming.
The tribal warriors presented chests filled with gold coins and precious ornaments gathered from every corner of the continent.
"I accept them with gratitude."
Although he had gained the treasure that was the Wandering Castle, Eugene's sole source of income was still only North Fork village.
Hiring a merchant company, supplying provisions, and taking dwarf mercenaries under his command had pushed his finances into the red. The tribute was a welcome relief.
"Please understand that circumstances forced me to invite you to such a harsh place."
"There is no need for apology, nor any need for explanation. Rather, I should thank you for receiving our visit in the midst of your busy endeavors."
Eugene smiled inwardly.
They all looked at him with yearning expressions, as though they wanted something far more than pleasantries.
"Have you all eaten?"
"We came as fast as we could, and we're hungry."
To Alessa, who spoke as though she had been waiting for the question, Eugene extended his palm toward the passage beyond the hall.
"Come in. I shall escort you to the dining hall."
"...!"
At those perfectly ordinary words about serving his guests a meal, every one of the dark elves broke into a broad smile.
The tribal guests were led to the castle's barracks mess hall. It was spacious enough for Eugene's troops and had been one of the first places cleaned.
"The meal is modest, but we prepared it with sincerity."
It was not mere courtesy; there truly was little to serve.
The meal consisted only of bread, a little salt, boiled eggs, jerky, and middling-quality wine brought by the supply unit, all set on clean plates.
"You are officially the first guests whom I host."
The guests seemed more pleased by those words than by any delicacy. Without pausing to talk, they devoted themselves to the meal and ate every last bite.
"I should have used less salt."
"Indeed."
Varda whispered to Eugene.
The salt had been set out only as a symbolic part of the hospitality ritual, yet the tribesmen even tipped every last grain into their mouths.
Chieftain Alessa and several others were hurriedly gulping down water.
But despite the saltiness that stung their tongues, not a single one among them frowned. Only satisfaction filled their faces.
"I welcome you all once more. Please think of this place as your home. Even if I die, my bloodline—the descendants of House Meyer—will continue to offer the Black Hand Clan bread, salt, and a warm bed."
At Eugene's words, Alessa and the elders let out deep breaths.
Her expression held several emotions at once: joy at securing the clan's safety, relief, and a leader's satisfaction.
"Does House Meyer have a motto handed down through the family?"
Once the meal had ended, Alessa inquired.
A noble house was symbolized by more than its banner. Many houses also had mottos that served as family slogans.
"Nothing in particular."
"Would it not be fitting to create one on this occasion? Is this not a house whose name will resound far and wide across the world henceforth?"
Great noble families displayed their prestige to visitors in various ways.
It was common to exhibit stuffed monsters they had hunted or treasures they had plundered.
Some hung dozens of ancestral portraits in a row to boast of a long history, while others overwhelmed guests with high-quality plaques engraved with the family motto.
At a gesture from Alessa, two middle-aged men stepped forward.
Beside them sat a large plaque frame made of fine timber and dyes refined through alchemy.
"They are alchemists and craftsmen trained at the Roman Academy, renowned as masters of plaque-making."
"The hall does feel a little bare for its size. One of these would look splendid hanging here."
The two men were craftsmen whose names were rising fast. They were so fully booked that, under normal circumstances, one would have had to wait at least another year.
-I understand the situation, but our schedule is... wait, just a moment! Where did you say?!
But the moment they learned the commission was for a plaque to hang in the Wandering Castle—the talk of Roman—they came running.
If someone else's work hung in the hall of this great castle, they felt they would not rest easy even in death.
"Have you by chance already thought of a motto?"
"If not, we would like to offer several."
The two men gazed at Eugene with bright, eager faces.
'They're hoping I haven't.'
Beyond their plaque-crafting, they also possessed outstanding literary talent.
Newly risen nobles were often so uneducated they could not even read, let alone compose prose, so the craftsmen often took on the task of devising plausible mottos too.
The two craftsmen felt immense pride and satisfaction at choosing the words that would be handed down through a noble house for generations.
The satisfaction surpassed even the money they were paid; that was why they could not give up this work.
"We have come up with ten phrases based on your martial prowess and reputation, Sir Knight. I am certain one will suit you perfectly."
"I appreciate the sentiment, but I have already decided upon one."
"Ah!"
"Tch..."
Even given where they were, the craftsmen could not hide their disappointment. They truly regretted missing the chance.
They wanted so badly to hang a motto of their own devising in the castle that they would have done the work for free.
"Th-then, please tell us."
Only after receiving Alessa's murderous glare did they hastily collect themselves and take up paper and pen.
"It is..."
When Eugene spoke the sentence he had been contemplating from the very moment he seized the Wandering Castle, voices of admiration arose from all around.
"Ooh!"
"It is a truly fitting motto."
Even the craftsmen had to admit it was better than anything they had spent days agonizing over.
It did not emphasize bravery or martial prowess like a typical knightly-house motto, nor did it boast of the family's power like the mottos of great nobles.
It merely expressed the Wandering Castle and the army that dwelt within it in a condensed form. Yet it was a sentence so powerful that, once heard, it was difficult to forget.
A few days later, a great plaque was hung in the hall that one encountered immediately upon passing through the castle gate.
The two craftsmen poured their souls into completing it. It was the new motto of House Meyer.
'No one can predict us.'
From now on, it would be the first sentence learned by every member of House Meyer, and the battle cry his army would shout.
"I have decided upon our next destination."
Once the castle had recovered sufficient strength, Eugene intended to move the castle anew.
Guests visiting the castle in new lands would look upon the plaque in the hall and surely understand its truth for themselves.