A Legend Worth the Wait
'Don't fall for it, you young heathen noble!'
The mercenary found himself rooting for his opposite number without even realizing it. One wrong word out there, and his family's future prospects were going to develop some very serious complications.
Of course, Johan was hardly so petty a man that a few overheard thoughts like these would sour his treatment of a household. But there was no way the mercenaries could have known that.
As far as they could see it, that young noble was currently dangling one foot over the mouth of hell itself.
"What does it matter whether I trust one god or two! It's we nobles who rule the White Realm, not priests!"
Johan's words had apparently struck a nerve in the young noble's pride. The White Realm had, since ancient times, been a place where all manner of peoples streamed in and mingled, and so its religions were correspondingly diverse.
Everything from the continent's monotheistic orders to the dualist faiths of the East, and even old indigenous god-worships that could scarcely be found anywhere else on the continent...
Even nobles who publicly worshiped the dualist faith to match the former Count's religion would privately keep to the native gods of their own bloodlines. To such nobles, the dualist priests were a considerable thorn in the side.
Smug, sanctimonious bastards with gods on their backs!
"Why are you so angry, milord?"
"Ahem. I believe the young master has had a bit too much to drink."
The attendant hurriedly cut in from the side. The noble, too, seemed to have realized he'd put his foot in it, and shut his mouth. Broadcasting one's lack of piety to every corner of the room did no one any good.
"R... right. And as for that cruel and greedy nonsense — it's slander too. I showed such mercy to my enemies, and they call me cruel?"
Johan marveled at the unexpectedly favorable assessment. This was a better reaction than he'd anticipated. He'd half expected the man to froth at the mouth with cries of 'That invader is a cruel and vile wretch!'
The patience Johan had displayed in the White Realm certainly played its part, but so did the knightly honor he had built for himself.
Honor had no physical substance, yet its power was formidable enough that it could not be ignored.
Once piled high enough, it held sway even in foreign lands.
"And aren't you men warriors serving under the new Count? Is it proper to slander your employer like that?"
"Strictly speaking, no — we're looking for a new master as of now."
At Johan's words, the noble's face twisted with contempt.
He'd assumed they were mercenaries in the Count's employ and treated them accordingly — and they turned out to be men who'd abandoned their master to wander off like stray dogs!
Had they said so from the start, they never would have received such hospitality. He muttered a whisper to a servant at his side.
After that, no more wine or food appeared at the table. As the bottoms of the platters began to show, the feast drew to a close, and the mercenaries grumbled as they left.
"Honestly, why did he have to deny it? He could've just kept saying we worked for the Count and... well, kept going."
No mercenary alive turned down good wine and food.
And had the truth come out later, that noble would probably have wept as he pressed silver coins into their hands on top of it.
"I don't work under myself, do I."
"......"
"Kidding. I just wanted to see an honest reaction for once. Apparently you end up watching your mouth even around the mercenaries under you, once you're the one in charge."
"And are you satisfied, my lord?"
"More or less. Turns out the men who sent those reports weren't lying after all."
At Johan's words, the mercenaries nodded with satisfaction. They'd missed out on good wine, fine food, and soft beds, but the news that their master was building a proper reputation pleased them all the same.
Even gold-hungry mercenaries had their pride. They reacted keenly to anything concerning what sort of man their superior or employer was.
Johan visited several more households afterward. Perhaps because he'd gotten the knack of it, the mercenaries had grown skilled at the act as well.
—We are mercenaries come to this island in search of fresh work.
—We served under the previous Count, barely escaping with our lives...
—We came from the East. We even served under the Sultan himself. Have you seen the Sultan? You have? ...What does he look like?
Most gave satisfactory answers. Favorable ones, or pledges of loyalty...
That even the least of them came off as neutral was encouraging. A promise to judge by his future rule was more than enough.
In truth, it helped considerably that the hostile sorts inclined to rebellion had already risen up once — and been crushed by Johan. Even so, this much counted for something.
As long as they didn't dream of another revolt while watching how things unfolded, it was fine. Cursing him behind his back he could forgive in any quantity.
"The weather's getting rather warm."
"Shall we rest a while, my lord?"
"It's not that bad yet."
The sun had grown fairly fierce, but the air held no humidity, so it was bearable. Ride along the edge of the forest, and the cool shade came at once.
"I heard vampires don't feel the heat. Is that true?"
"Our blood does run rather cold, my lord."
The thin, pale skin of the vampires stayed cool no matter how hot it grew outside. They claimed it was thanks to their cold blood. Johan found himself wondering whether that actually made sense...
"Thanks to that, as long as we stay out of the sun, we endure the heat quite comfortably."
"I see."
"There's even a saying that if you sleep embracing a Vampir lover on a hot night, you'll slumber soundly straight through to the next morning."
"...Was that a joke just now?"
Johan was taken aback by Fahid's remark. To hear such words from the earnest-looking vampire knight was genuinely disorienting. The mercenaries loved their bawdy banter, sure, but...
"F-forgive me."
"No, it was funny. Stories from the East are always welcome."
At Johan's words, Fahid's expression brightened.
Given his terrifying combat prowess, it was hard to believe, but Johan had a talent for listening to people.
Speak before him for any length of time, and one forgot all about rank and station, finding oneself comfortably unburdening whatever thoughts lay in one's heart.
Johan's genuine interest in tales of the East deeply moved the knights of the Mulk family.
"I said it because I thought you'd enjoy it, but it was no joke. Vampires — Vampir, in the imperial tongue — is that the correct term?"
"It is, but speak however you like. It hardly matters to me."
"The Sultan's most favored concubine at present is a Vampir as well."
'That's an utterly useless piece of information, but an entertaining one.'
This era was desperately short of entertainment. People had to go find their own amusements. Every now and then, when boredom got the better of him, Johan would adapt some tale that wouldn't have been out of place in the Thousand and One Nights and share it, and the mercenaries would listen like men dying of laughter.
The Sultan's faraway love life was of little practical use, but it made for good listening.
"It seems we are drawing near to Gilsina, my lord."
As the sea came into view beside the mountain, the mercenaries knew instinctively that Gilsina was close. They halted atop a suitable hill, and below them lay a beautiful port city.
A few of the mercenaries whistled without thinking. Most of them had only ever heard of the place in stories; few had laid eyes on Gilsina themselves.
"Well, would you look at that. Strange as hell."
"Never seen buildings shaped like that in my life. Is that the Eastern style?"
"Those aren't Eastern buildings. They date back to the Ancient Empire."
"Wait — aren't they hunting something down there right now?"
At Johan's words, everyone looked puzzled. None of them had eyes as sharp as his.
"What do you see, my lord?"
"They seem to have ballistae lined up all over the harbor."
The enormous siege crossbows had been stationed at every point around the port, with soldiers crouched and waiting in silence. One look was enough to tell what they were doing.
They were hunting the Sea-Carapace Dragon.
'They summon him all this way, and they can't even wait.'
He could understand it. A single day of interrupted trade swelled their losses like a snowball, and they could hardly afford to just sit and wait for Johan to arrive.
Besides, there was no guarantee Johan would actually catch the thing. They had to try whatever means they had.
Above all, if they caught it before he arrived, the gains would exceed imagination. Johan himself would be left empty-handed, but the city could settle the matter with a simple 'Thank you so much for coming all this way!' and a suitable gratuity. Gold coins, granted — but a trifling pittance beside the city's rights and privileges.
"Er... shouldn't we want them to fail, then?"
"Still, that's going a bit far."
At Johan's answer, the mercenary made an awkward face. The others were quick to voice their agreement with Johan.
"That's what I thought as well, my lord. Rooting for a monster is no fit conduct for a monotheist."
"Truly, one cannot even compare a shameless wretch like that to our lord the Count—"
The mercenaries, apparently stung by the fact that he'd said aloud what the rest of them had been thinking, denounced their comrade with great fervor. The unfortunate soul who'd spoken first and found himself branded a shameless cur wore an expression of profound injustice.
'Well. That's one way to be entertained.'
Johan gazed down with anticipation in his eyes. He'd heard plenty about the creature by word and by picture, but nothing compared to seeing it with his own eyes.
Kee-eek—
From the harbor, a single galley set out toward the horizon. Johan could feel that the people aboard were frightened and tense. They knew exactly what they were going out to do, so it was only natural.
Some distance out, a colossal foreleg suddenly burst up from beneath the sea's surface and seized the galley. Even a sizable ship, heaving and wrenching about in an instant, made for a truly savage sight.
A giant mutant lizard. That was, by Johan's reckoning, the most honest description of a Sea-Carapace Dragon. He had his doubts about whether the thing deserved the word dragon at all...
—Fire!
Ballistae hidden throughout the harbor loosed as one. Amid a thunderous crack, enormous bolts went flying. The men who believed they'd struck true burst into cheers.
But the beast was clever. Just as Johan had sensed something off about the people in the ship, the creature apparently had as well. It splashed straight down into the water, evading the attack.
"!"
In the chaos, one bolt happened — by some miraculous stroke of luck — to pierce the beast's hide, and the sea's surface bloomed red. But no one alive believed a monster like that could be taken with a single bolt.
"...That one looks like a failure."
One sharp-eyed mercenary muttered. He couldn't see as well as Johan, but even he could guess that something had just gone wrong out on that water.
"Didn't they just needlessly poke the hornet's nest?"
"To say it one more time — this is not because of anything I said."
"Damn idiot city-folk..."
"What will you do, my lord?"
"What can I do? Go down there and say so, I suppose."
Johan shrugged. From the position of a man who was now expected to hunt that beast himself, a blunder like that was nothing short of infuriating.
Yet Johan remained calm. In that seasoned composure, the young Mulk knights felt a wave of reassurance.
A knight among knights who had hunted countless monsters, and would hunt countless more. To such a man, a hurdle of this size apparently didn't even register as an obstacle.
'If things go south, that mess gives me a convenient excuse to bow out.'
The delegation that came out to greet Johan wore expressions of unmitigated misery. Of all days, they'd chosen the very day the new Count was due to arrive — and then charged into a reckless hunt and botched it in front of him.
"Did you not believe I would actually come?"
"N-no, of course we did, my lord."
In truth, they hadn't believed it.
Johan's choice to travel with his banner hidden, disguised as mere mercenaries, was largely to blame.
By rights, word of Count Eitz should have been trickling in constantly — he arrived here, he departed there, he's moving this way — in an endless stream of rumor...
Instead, not a whisper. With the silence stretching on and on, the city's councilmen couldn't help but grow suspicious.
—What if he's not coming at all?
—Just stringing us along, buying time and...
Frankly, it had been an offer Johan was entirely free to refuse.
No knight, however legendary, charged out swearing to slay every monster in existence. Declining according to circumstances and conditions was the natural order of things.
It wasn't as if the city could rise in revolt if he said no — they were the ones who'd have to bow their heads and say, 'I see. Understood, my lord.'
'Still, I do feel a bit bad about this one.'
Having pieced together the situation from the councilmen's remarks, Johan gave a wry smile. To think that riding without his banner would earn him this kind of misunderstanding.
But once the other side had blundered, the excuses were theirs to scrape together.
"We wished to wound the beast as deeply as possible before your arrival, my lord."
"And did you?"
"......"
"......"
One of the greeters rolled his eyes for a moment, then spoke up.
"The truth is, Lord Count — of late there have been mercenaries prowling the area, behaving suspiciously. They pried about with all manner of questions concerning you and spread ugly rumors in their wake, and so we thought your arrival might be delayed somewhat further. Please forgive us!"
One of the mercenaries listening from behind muttered under his breath.
"Mercenaries like that, are there? Swell-headed idiots, the lot of them, I'd wager."