The Minotaur's Bronze Hide
"Sir Knight! Not that one!"
Aclada cried out in urgency. In his haste, the old form of address had slipped out of him.
With his sharp eyes, Aclada had noticed something strange about the minotaur's bronze-colored hide.
The minotaur was a monster driven mad by a divine curse, and the more strongly that curse ran through its blood, the tougher and harder its hide became.
Unlike the one they had felled earlier, this one's coloring was far cloudier and deeper. There was a real chance a spearblade simply wouldn't sink in.
Thwack!
But Johan's thrown spear punched through the minotaur's abdomen and buried itself deep. He had hurled it with such force that the tip protruded out through the hide of its back.
"?"
"What! Aclada! Did your eyes deceive you?"
"No, but..."
"Fire! Protect the Count!"
The centaurs instantly raised their bows and took aim at the minotaur. Their unique archery, the Solenarion, wielded short, slender arrows that were perfectly suited to dealing with skittish, sensitive monsters.
Yet all that answered was a dull thud — the arrows failed to pierce the hide. Those sharp, armor-splitting shafts, stopped cold. The centaurs stared at the beast in sheer disbelief.
"What did I just say!"
The minotaur, which had been charging like a thing possessed, abruptly halted. The pain was unlike anything it had known in life, and it made the beast cautious. Snapping the spear embedded in its belly, it let out a bellow.
"Krrgh!"
"Guhk!"
Even the hardened warriors clapped their hands over their ears and groaned. That was how enormous and piercing the creature's cry was. The centaurs could block their ears, but Itzelia's horse was another matter.
Whinnying in terror, the horse bucked hard, threw its rider to the ground, and bolted. Itzelia, landing hard, called after it with a voice full of shock. A warhorse that had fought through countless monster purges — running away.
"Johan!"
So the horse's name was Johan?
She had refused to answer when asked what her mount was called, and all along it had been named Johan?
Granted, it was presumably named for the hero of several centuries past...
"Fern, take Itzelia!"
Johan leapt from his horse and shouted. Fern broke into a run, galloping toward Itzelia. Johan glanced at the other knights who had been unhorsed around him and spoke.
"Anyone who's lost their mount, get out!"
"My lord Count, I can still fight—"
Out of patience, Johan seized the knight by the collar and hurled him backward. The knight flew screaming through the air.
What remained were the two longswords at his waist and the two spears across his back. Faced with a worthy foe, Johan's blood boiled hot.
His fingers twitched, and his eyes gleamed like a hunter's. The numerological talisman hanging at his neck vibrated like mad.
"Aim for its eyes and its mouth! Go for anything the hide doesn't cover!"
The centaurs threaded swiftly between the trees, taunting the minotaur. The beast grew irritated, but it couldn't catch them.
"Someone carry Sir Knight! Why do you never have a horse when you need one!"
"I'll carry him!"
Euclia sprinted forward. Johan gripped her shoulder and vaulted straight up onto her back. The scent of her body, stirred hot by the thrill of battle, rolled over him thick and strong.
Euclia didn't bother asking where to go. The grip of his hand on her shoulder and the pressure of his weight said everything that needed saying. Closing on the minotaur, Johan threw a spear at once, opening a second wound.
"Balkalmur!"
He had aimed for the throat, but the reaction was astonishing. The minotaur blocked the spear with its left arm. It had protected the vital point — but the pain was severe.
-■■■■■■!
Tough in a different way from a troll.
Where a troll possessed regenerative power that closed every wound, the minotaur had the sheer stamina to endure them all.
Even with dozens of archers aiming at it, it kept its vitals firmly guarded, and even poison failed to take hold.
-■! ■!
The minotaur had clearly chosen its target. It had realized that Johan was the most dangerous thing on the field. Shielding its eyes as best it could, it began to chase him with everything it had.
At that moment Itzelia burst out from the side and slammed into the beast. For an instant, Johan thought the elf had lost her mind.
But she hadn't. Itzelia had held her shield at an angle as she struck, deflecting the impact sideways, throwing the minotaur's balance completely off.
It was astonishing horsemanship, for a trick performed on someone else's steed.
Struck from the side at a full gallop, the minotaur tangled its legs and pitched forward, rolling across the ground. Itzelia gave in to no greedy second strike and withdrew cleanly. She knew all too well that no blade would bite into the creature's hide.
Johan threw a spear immediately. The minotaur covered its head with its arms — but that wasn't what Johan was aiming for.
The spear punched through its thigh and drove all the way into the knee.
Immobilized, the minotaur thrashed in desperation, swinging its enormous club. With every sweep the earth caved in and the trees screamed. It radiated an oppressive menace that forbade all approach.
But Johan closed in with a longsword gripped in reverse. The beast's swings were loud and savage, yet not beyond dodging. Dusk, blade of House Brudhe, flared with light and sheared through the minotaur's wrist.
Euclia drove her spear into the gaping stump. In the same breath, Johan swung his sword and took the head in a single stroke. Silver flashed and burned against the wicked monster's blood.
"...We were fortunate the damage was light."
It had only been because Johan had led the centaurs charging in at once; otherwise every knight in the vicinity would have been slaughtered.
Euclia paid such matters no mind, ignoring them entirely as she caught the minotaur's blood in a cup. Then, in a voice of childlike innocence, she offered it.
"You drink first."
"...My thanks."
The privilege of drinking first from the slain prey was a hallowed one. Johan knew the customs of the centaurs well, and he could hardly bring himself to refuse.
"It's hot. I feel it warming my body?"
"Minotaur blood has a tonic effect, you see?"
"...?!"
It did what?
Johan paused mid-drink. Better, he thought, to share the rest with the older vassals rather than let a man already brimming with hot blood like himself drink it.
The remaining monsters were either slain or fled, and the vassals nearby slowly began gathering toward Johan. Word had spread that a minotaur had been brought down.
What the assembled vassals beheld was Johan standing atop the felled behemoth, gazing down at them with lordly ease. An almost mythic, surreal aura poured off the scene.
One vassal, as if spellbound, dismounted without thinking and fell to his knees. Seeing it, the other vassals knelt as well. One by one they climbed down from their horses, and those in the back, catching the mood, hurried to join them.
Vassals on their knees, centered upon their new Count.
It was a symbolic tableau showing exactly who now held power in the south.
"You have endured much hardship."
"So I have. Who could have guessed a second minotaur would show itself."
Johan clicked his tongue. Light losses, thank the heavens — had it gone otherwise, this would have become an occasion for consoling the houses of dead vassals.
But then, all was well that ended well.
Even now, the seasoned butchers were at work flaying the minotaur's hide and carving away its meat. Its hide and bones would become precious gifts, bestowed upon the vassals.
"Are you certain you should be dividing such things among us?"
"You stood at the front and earned the glory, so you'll take what's owed you."
What the vassals wanted was mostly the hide, while the centaurs coveted the beast's sinews. Kaenerna asked for the more exotic parts — the eyes, the marrow, and the like.
Two minotaurs had shown themselves, and generous ones at that — the haul almost made him grateful for it. They were on an entirely different level from trolls.
"My lord Count. Sir Palmito has come before you to swear his vassal's oath."
"Tell him to wait."
With the number of vassals swelling, those who arrived late could be made to cool their heels. It was only proper to distinguish between those who had come first and those who dragged behind.
"My lord. Viscount Ginolene has sent an envoy..."
"?"
But it was unexpected for Viscount Ginolene, who governed the Emperor's domain in his stead, to send someone to Johan.
What now?
"Lord Count Yeats. It is an honor to be received by you."
The viscount's envoy bowed with impeccable courtesy. He clearly understood which way the winds of power were blowing.
At the sight of it, the Marquis's former vassals nearby began to murmur among themselves.
A bitter feeling settled over the envoy. He was not so foolish as to misunderstand the situation he was returning to. Hadn't the Marquis's vassals defected in droves to attach themselves to the Count from the east?
Such scrupulous deference to Count Yeats now could only redound to the man's benefit. It would make plain, once and for all, who held real power here.
But there was nothing to be done about it. He could hardly comport himself with rudeness instead.
"That you would personally lead an army to drive out the heathen corsairs moves me to the depths of gratitude."
"You have my thanks. Now — what brings you here?"
Compared to the chaos of the Marquisate, the Emperor's domain was in comparatively better shape. It lay farther south than the Marquisate, and with a mountain range shielding its west, the corsairs had done far less damage there.
"By His Majesty the Emperor's command, I have come to pay Lady Kaenerna's ransom."
The envoy gestured. Slaves carried forward massive chests and began opening them. A dazzling glitter of gold coins.
At the sheer scale of it, the envoy let out an involuntary groan. He had known the amount, but seeing it again was still staggering.
This was no time to be spending gold on such a thing. To be sure, Kaenerna was a superb mage and an advisor to the Emperor — but she could not turn back an army of thousands.
Far better to hire mercenaries and reinforce the Marquis, yet the Emperor had been stubborn.
Marquis Crucho had been branded a failure in the Emperor's eyes after a string of defeats.
"......"
The surrounding vassals glared at the envoy. Only then did he realize he had been muttering to himself. He coughed hurriedly and declared:
"It has been prepared in accordance with custom. We ask that you accept it."
Johan clicked his tongue. He could not refuse a ransom payment — that would be a breach of the customs observed between nobles.
Above all, if he took so fine a ransom and then refused to release her, it would cast suspicion on his relationship with Kaenerna. People would whisper that she wasn't a captive at all, but a defector who had switched sides.
Does that Emperor fellow really have money to throw around like this, when his coffers must be running dry?
Frankly, it was absurd. He had assumed the man couldn't pay — and now here he was, paying.
"So be it. I supposed Cardirian would pay eventually. I just didn't expect him to pay this quickly."
Kaenerna was not particularly surprised. The Emperor loved magic, was consumed by it — and as the finest mage among his court, it was natural he would send for her.
But to pay out gold and come looking at a time like this? He was clearly desperate.
This really might be dangerous...
Magic was harsh on those who became enslaved to it. The harder Cardirian clung to his sorcery, the more fate would turn against him.
"Why that look? Don't tell me you'd rather not go."
"It would be a lie to say I hadn't grown rather fond of you."
At Johan's words, Kaenerna was genuinely startled. Of all people, Johan saying such a thing. Something faintly tingly began to stir within her.
"And yet you had no intention of showing me any respect?"
"Even if you won't show me loyalty, there's still friendship to be had..."
As a mage, she might not command his respect, but as a comrade who had marched on campaign beside him, she had his friendship. It wasn't the sort of thing a lord ought to say, but it carried a strange weight all the same.
"I have no intention of keeping you. I merely worry. Will you be all right under Cardirian?"
"...There's no need to worry. I'll be fine. My standing at court is far higher than you imagine, this Kaenerna's..."
As Johan gazed at her with eyes full of concern, that tingling warmth only grew. As if to resist the feeling, Kaenerna hastily pulled a treasure from the breast of her robes.
"...Why are you pulling out the chain necklace the Emperor meant to fasten around his mistress's neck?"
"I, I took out the wrong thing."
What she had meant to produce was the Fire Cup. Kaenerna examined the condition of Johan's fire globe and taught him how to read its signals. It worked on a principle rather like Morse code.
"You learn quickly?"
"Is it safe to send messages like this?"
"No matter. There's no one else who could read them."
"Then don't send pointless messages. Worry about your own safety instead."
Johan worried about Kaenerna. He did hold a genuine friendship for her, but more than that...
This mage makes far too many mistakes.
Having watched Kaenerna blunder her way through one mishap after another, Johan simply couldn't bring himself to trust her.
If she ever learned that this was the real reason he kept striking up conversations with her, Kaenerna would have flown into a rage.
"I'll throw in the necklace as a bonus — try using it on that elf. Ah. And here I'd finally gotten my hands on such an interesting specimen..."
She couldn't take it back with her. She would have to travel a vast distance, and it would likely be damaged along the way.
"Then leave it here as it is."
"What?"
"You won't be spending the rest of your life in the Empire. Come back someday, and I'll return it to you."
"......"
For a moment, Kaenerna swallowed down the oath of loyalty that surged up in her throat, bowed her head, and greeted him. It was a farewell.