Chapter 96: Gord (3)
Chapter 96: Gord (3)
"To think you already have someone in your heart."
Had she realized it intuitively? Aisha's gaze shifted to the seat beside Eugene.
There sat Varda, who looked the most flustered of anyone in the hall.
Originally, Eugene had intended to ask her privately somewhere quiet after the banquet. But with things as they were, that was no longer possible.
"Then it cannot be helped."
"Thank you for understanding."
"But I did muster my own courage. If I simply go back now, I doubt I'll be able to sleep tonight. May I ask just one thing?"
"?"
"Even in defeat, I want to properly see who it is I've lost to."
She meant she wanted to witness him becoming Varda's knight here and now.
From all corners of the banquet hall, whistles and calls of encouragement echoed in response to Aisha.
He was no ordinary knight, but one of the most talked-about rising stars of late. Just who was the lady who had stolen his heart?
With a sigh, Eugene rose from his chair and stood before Varda.
"..."
Above the scarf covering her lower face, her wide golden eyes trembled violently.
"Shh! Shh!"
"Quiet!"
The crowd, suddenly considerate for no reason, lowered their voices on their own.
"Varda, mage of the Emerald Forest."
At Eugene's low voice, murmurs rippled from every direction.
"The Sage of the Forest!"
"The Maiden Who Walks the Wheat Fields!"
"She who scatters flower crowns..."
Everyone marveled.
From her distinctive robes, they had guessed that she was a mage accompanying the army.
But to think she was a forest elf whose renown stretched beyond Roman across the entire continent.
"I, a knight who once had nothing, have hungered for victory and glory ever since I met you. Now, I wish to see what lies beyond them."
As Eugene knelt on one knee and continued, everyone fell silent and listened intently.
"Sword and chivalry. Justice and courage. These are things a knight carries for a lifetime. They cannot be wrenched out by any tyrant's threat, nor by any dragon's blazing breath."
Knights, their spirits heightened ahead of the tournament, nodded and clenched their fists.
"But the heart? A knight's heart beats more fiercely when it rests in another's hand. It makes the knight more complete."
Smooch.
Eugene took Varda's trembling hand and pressed his lips to the back of her pale hand.
"I beg you, grant me leave to become your knight."
"Nngh."
A faint groan only Eugene, right in front of her, could hear.
'Wait. Does Varda-nim even have a spare scarf right now?'
The scarf Varda usually wore was currently covering the lower half of her face.
There was no absolute need to hand over a scarf; anything symbolizing a lady would suffice, so it would probably be fine.
'Ah, right. I could still be refused, after all.'
He had not peered into her heart, so it was entirely possible.
If Eugene, having just refused Aisha, got rejected in turn, that too would likely spice up the banquet quite entertainingly.
But no such thing happened.
"My esteemed knight. My benefactor. My friend."
With trembling fingers, Varda untied the scarf that covered her lower face and removed her hood.
Rustle.
Amid the cascading waterfall of golden hair, her elegant elven ears came into view.
It was said that God fashioned people from clay, but surely this beautiful woman was an exception.
For her skin, breathtaking just to behold, seemed as if a goddess had molded it from milk.
"Oh..."
"A forest elf."
The people understood why the Sage of the Emerald Forest was renowned across the continent.
Forest magic might have made Varda's name resound across the world, but there was surely another reason why the nobles who had met her could never forget her.
"An honor beyond my deserving. I accept it gladly."
Varda tied the scarf in her hand onto Eugene's chest.
"Well, my heart feels lighter now, but in a different sense, I doubt I'll be able to sleep tonight."
Aisha smiled and turned away without a hint of lingering attachment, returning to her seat. The click of her heels echoed through the hushed banquet hall.
As the steward discreetly signaled, the musicians drowned everything out with lively, raucous music.
Count Andar had been laughing heartily and chattering to his daughter beside him when his face suddenly crumpled.
Judging by Aisha's braced shoulders and the force in her expression, her father had apparently teased her and gotten his instep stomped on.
"Do you not know what it means for a lady to have a knight of her own?"
Once the flood of gazes had scattered, Varda pressed him. Her two fists rested daintily before her chest.
"I know it is a tremendous honor."
"Precisely why it is not something to be decided lightly, even if Lady Aisha's dignity was at stake."
"Surely you do not think I did it to escape a predicament? I am not that petty."
"That is true, but..."
"Besides, I find it strange that you are so surprised, Varda-nim."
Eugene adjusted the scarf tied to his chest.
"When you have already called me 'my knight' in front of Marbas-nim."
"That was..."
A knight, a squire, and a mage. A fated party of three.
Varda had called him 'my knight' in that sense, but she did not elaborate further.
As she had already said, for a lady to have her own knight was the highest honor.
When Eugene looked up at her, yearning for a token as he pledged his sword, Varda felt a sensation she had never experienced before course through her heart.
"Are you all right? Your complexion isn't poor... but it is different from usual."
"I-I am fine."
Her thighs hovered above the chair, her knees pressed and rubbed together as if she needed to pee, and it felt as though something other than oxygen and blood were flowing through her veins.
Varda gulped down her brimming glass of wine. It was as though she were asking the mercenary called alcohol to drive the unfamiliar force occupying her body back out.
"In the end, after all that, it comes back to that?"
On the day of the tournament, Rex laughed at the sight of Eugene inspecting his weapon.
It was because he held a steel staff with the flail's mace head removed.
"It is best to go into battle with the weapon you are most familiar with."
"That is true."
With Eugene's monstrous strength, anyone was bound to go down in one or two blows. In that case, the longer the reach, the better.
"But still, a knight with a staff? It has no flair at all. It's not like you're some monk."
"If I have to, I can always pick up the weapons or shields of fallen knights. If anything, the audience will be even more excited by a weapon they rarely get to see, won't they?"
"I suppose you could think of it that way."
"Count Andar is watching, so it wouldn't hurt to give him a good show."
Eugene looked as composed as ever.
"Sir. I will assist you to the best of my ability."
Haind, by contrast, looked so stiffly determined he seemed almost wooden.
This tournament was a group battle simulating war, with the participants split into two sides.
Famous knights with long-established roots or extensive standing each led sizable retinues.
Eugene, on the other hand, had only one man under him: Haind. Rex and the tribal knights were knights in name only, lacking formal investiture and thus failing to qualify.
'I will ensure, by any means necessary, that Sir Eugene is not struck down by an attack from behind.'
Haind steeled his resolve.
"That aside, the internal friction here is more severe than I expected."
Eugene observed the knights of both camps, who had already begun their war of nerves.
Merchants and warriors. In Gord, where two disparate cultures had harmonized into one, there was precisely one element that remained incompletely fused.
That was the native nobility who had settled and lived there long before the sea raiders ever arrived.
They called themselves the Clear Current, and they referred to the houses born from union with the sea raiders as the Salt Flow.
"I heard they refrained from calling them the Turbid Flow, since that would be openly picking a fight."
"Isn't that just playing word games? I'd be just as angry if you called them salt water."
"Are such squabbles over noble pride not inherently childish?"
Varda shrugged her shoulders. Having dealt with countless nobles, she had seen such cases more than once or twice.
For reference, Eugene had been assigned to a team made up mostly of the Clear Current faction.
It was a group composed predominantly of knights who were the most skilled in horsemanship in Gord and who pursued orthodox swordsmanship.
"Too bad. If I had my pick, I'd rather have joined the Salt Flow—the team with more axe-men."
"Axe-men, you say..."
Varda's long ears twitched as she quickly glanced around. Fortunately, no one seemed to have heard.
"I have no intention of dividing honorable knights into factions, but I thought you would be pleased to be among the Clear Current knights."
Eugene was an orthodox knight carrying on the lineage of Goffrey, the Knight of Prophecy.
He was welcomed and treated well wherever he went not only because of the reputation he had built, but also because of the pedigree that counted as pure-blooded legitimacy in the world of knights.
"Prize money is my main concern, but I'd also like to build a relationship with Count Andar. He seems more likely to root for the other team than for the Clear Current."
"If you wanted to get on his good side that badly, why didn't you accept Lady Aisha's request?"
"Pardon?"
For a moment, Eugene wondered whether Varda was testing him. But her expression was utterly serious.
Despite the major event that had occurred the day before, she appeared to be offering advice solely for Eugene's political benefit.
Eugene stared steadily into Varda's golden eyes, then let out a short laugh.
"That is not something I will compromise on."
"Make sure your helmet is fastened tight."
"I have already checked it several times."
Haind nodded at Eugene's words. The helmet did not shake at all, as if it were fused with his head.
As long as they had no spikes or blades, all kinds of weapons were allowed. It was also permitted to use weapons or shields dropped by others.
The rules were similar to tournaments in other countries, but since they were not riding horses, there were a few peculiarities.
"A tournament with ring-out losses. That is unusual."
"Since this is infantry combat, without ring-out losses the match could drag on far too long."
The arena was constructed of a stone platform roughly 50 centimeters higher than the surrounding ground. Crossing the boundary and falling off meant instant elimination.
Additionally, having one's helmet removed or falling to the ground and failing to rise within a certain time was also considered elimination.
"May fortune follow you."
Varda approached and placed her hands upon Eugene's shoulders and chest.
Eugene covered the back of Varda's hand with his gauntleted one, but he could not feel her warmth through it. He found that deeply disappointing.
And so, Eugene entered the wide arena.
'The difference between the two factions is certainly stark.'
The majority of those on Eugene's side were armed with swords or maces.
In contrast, on the opposing side, there were not many who wielded swords. Even with the edges removed, the majority bore axes that looked ferocious.
'And their weight class as well.'
The native nobles, perhaps because they had been selective about marriage partners, had builds similar to people from Roman. The opposing team, by contrast, were all large, powerfully built men.
"This is like the Roman army and the Germanic tribes fighting in equipment of the same quality."
"Pardon? Roman?"
"It's nothing."
Eugene patted Haind on the shoulder.
"It is a pleasure to meet you again here."
Just then, a certain knight approached.
"Do you remember me?"
"Of course. Sir Badel."
The knight who had stepped forth as Gord's second champion in the Hall War. It was Badel.
"This time we shall fight on the same side. It is reassuring to stand alongside Gord's finest swordsman."
"You flatter me."
Badel, delighted by the praise that made his knight's heart race regardless of age, responded in kind.
He had longed to meet him again ever since being utterly defeated by the sword and receiving honorable mercy.
The reunion Badel had imagined was the sort where he would host a meal as a noble or share tea.
He had never imagined they would stand shoulder to shoulder in a tournament. It filled Badel with an excitement beyond measure.
"This is Haind. My knight-in-training who graduated from the House of Boundary Knights."
Fostering connections for a knight-in-training was one of a knight's duties.
"Ah! It is considered one of the finest knight houses."
Deeply honored, Haind took Badel's offered hand.
"It is an honor to meet you."
"Badel of the House of Overnew. I sincerely congratulate you on coming to serve a great knight."
Meanwhile, Eugene, scanning the opposing formation, discovered a familiar face.
"Sir Lipton is over there as well."
He was the knight who had boasted the strongest shield technique in Gord and had stepped forth as the third champion.
"...!"
Seeing Eugene wave at him with a beaming smile, Lipton's face turned ashen.
Judging by how he fiddled with the back of his hand where his shield had shattered and left a gash, he did not share Eugene's pleasure.
A short while later, when it was time for the match to begin, all the knights formed up.
As befitting a tournament held in a grand colosseum, the number of spectators encircling the arena on all sides was staggering.
Knights from both sides glared at their opponents amidst a deadly tension.
Commoners watching from safe vantage points munched on all kinds of street food, their eyes gleaming and their hearts pounding.
"Commence battle!"
As the opening horn blared with a signal befitting Gord, the knights on both sides charged with a roar.
Unlike tournaments with rules where falling from one's horse meant elimination, here, they had to exhaust their opponent's stamina or strike them down so they could not rise.
As there were fewer cases of excellent knights being eliminated in absurd fashion, the knights did not resort to tricks but charged like madmen from the very start.
Badel, along with the three or four knights who followed him, clashed with knights of a rival house, while Haind exchanged fierce blows with a knight whose name he did not know.
Behind Haind, Eugene was deliberating where to strike.
"Boo!"
"What are you doing hiding back there? Fight like a knight!"
Thinking it cowardice, the onlookers sent jeers his way.
And as if answering those jeers, a knight charged towards Eugene.
He wielded a two-handed axe without a shield, and though it had no edge, its force was such that a blow would surely break a bone somewhere.
Eugene gripped the end of the iron staff with both hands and swept at the opponent's lower body like lightning.
WHOOOOSH!
The knight was startled as the long yet seemingly cumbersome iron staff swept through at tremendous speed toward his legs.
But it was already too late to react.
Struck in the legs, the knight spun 180 degrees, flew roughly a meter into the air, and came crashing down shoulder-first.
"Ugh!"
CLANG!
The opponent, trembling as he tried to rise, was struck in the head by a second blow from the iron staff and knocked unconscious.
"You wretch!"
Another knight who had been charging in to join the attack hesitated for a moment. It was due to an instinctive warning that he would die if he got any closer.
'Th-there is definitely no spearhead on it?'
The staff pointed at him was blunt. Even so, he felt an oppressive certainty that the instant it thrust forward, it would punch straight through his armor and body.
As the charging opponent halted, Eugene counter-charged.
Bang!
Eugene kicked off the ground so hard that chips of stone flew from beneath his steel boots. He unleashed a lightning-fast thrust carrying all that force.
"Ghk!"
Along with his shattered round shield, the second knight tumbled head over heels.
"..."
"Whoaaa!"
Some of the citizens who had been jeering became quiet in their astonishment, while others shouted out with even greater excitement.
Eugene spun the iron staff a few times above his head, then leveled it forward.
"All right, let's do this!"