Death Knight at Moonrise
The crossbow had excellent penetrating power, but compared to a bow it was a slow weapon to reload. The reason it saw frequent use anyway was its ease of handling — a man could become competent with one far faster than with a bow.
No harm in picking up the bow as well, though.
For small bands that wandered like Johan's, versatility was always a virtue. Any skill they could put to use was welcome.
Johan called over to Gerdolf, who was swinging his sword at a distance.
"Gerdolf. Stop swinging that sword and come over here. Try your hand at the bow."
Gerdolf pulled a sour face, but he grumbled nothing and came to take up the bow. That was one of his good qualities.
"Practicing archery, are we?"
"Lord Suaetlug. Are you comfortable?"
"Quite. There's a magic about that bow, I can feel it."
At Suaetlug's words, Marco flushed and answered.
"Yes. My master, who gave it to me, said that a knight must live honorably for his arrows to strike true."
I should never take up that bow, Johan thought.
"Yew cut in winter, blended with alchemical ingredients I don't recognize. A rather fine piece of work, I must say..."
Suaetlug was intrigued, but showed no further curiosity. The mystery of arrows flying truer the more honorable the wielder happened to be was not a mystery that interested him.
"Great archers are born, not made. You think teaching will accomplish anything?"
"Wouldn't shooting a bow be better than doing nothing at all?"
"Hm. That much is true."
Johan then called over the mercenaries and asked whether any of them could draw a bow. Aside from a few, none of them could.
"You used bows too, Kahn?"
"My father taught me when I was young. For poaching game to eat on the sly."
Gowan and Kahn had joined the party almost by accident. They had been resting comfortably when Johan came looking for them out of nowhere and said what he said.
What will you do once this job is done?
Uh... well, we were thinking of resting up at a nearby fief, sir knight.
And after that?
We'd look for a new employer, wouldn't we?
Good. Can you ride?
We can ride, but we don't have horses.
No matter. I'll lend you some. Tell the other mercenaries to saddle up.
?
They knew Johan was bound for the Brudhe Duchy, but they hadn't imagined he would single them out specifically and take them along while leaving behind seasoned heavy infantry.
Captain, did you save the knight's life or something? Lending us horses and gear is a bit much...
You think the captain's got the skill to save anyone's life?
Shut your mouths and ride. You want the others to laugh at us?
Gowan had been a little worried, but the clash he'd braced for never came. The men Johan had picked were all tight-lipped and loyal. None of them were the type to sneer at strangers or pick fights just because they were moving alongside men they'd never worked with before.
While the knights and mercenaries took up bows and practiced, Suaetlug spoke up.
"By the way, I feel rather guilty about all this. You could have traveled far more comfortably."
Noble parties ordinarily traveled along the Ancient Empire's highways, or at least from town to town and city to city. There was rarely any reason for a noble to camp in the open.
Yet their party was now moving right along the riverbank, which meant several days of camping outdoors.
"It's no trouble, my lord mage."
The knights said it as if it were nothing.
It might have been different for a high noble, but every one of them was a knight born to a poor house. Sleeping under the dew was nothing new to them.
The mercenaries, if anything, were even more at home with it...
"What do you think you're doing out here?!"
"?"
A man came charging toward them from the distance, his face flushed red, and the party regarded him with puzzlement. He was alone and carried no real armament, so nobody tensed up.
"Do you have any idea where you are?!"
"Isn't this the land of House Balpa?"
Johan answered without a flicker of change in his expression, and the gamekeeper faltered. Something about his bearing — the accent included — suggested the man before him was a noble.
"Forgive... forgive my rudeness, but from where do you hail?"
"House Jarpen. And this man carries the blood of House Abner."
"I— I beg your pardon! This wretch deserves death for his insolence!"
The gamekeeper threw himself flat on the ground. He had seen a band of ruffian-looking mercenaries loosing arrows in the lord's forest and assumed they were poaching.
"But why would men of your standing be out in a place like this...?"
"Would a knight pursue comfort?"
Marco answered in his stead, and the other knights nodded along.
"We must escort you to the lord at once!"
The knights made troubled faces. Refusing an offer like that could amount to an insult. Suaetlug waved a hand as if it were no matter.
"We're not obliged to cling to the river, after all. We've had our fill of it. Moving on and taking our ease as honored guests doesn't sound half bad."
"How much do you know of House Balpa?"
"Nothing much. Only that they're a small house holding a single lordship. Compared to Abner or Jarpen, they're hardly worth mentioning."
It was a tiny house, much like Johan's own Eitz family. Judging by the look of things, though, the state of their lands was somewhat better.
"No wonder they rush to be gracious at the mere mention of Abner or Jarpen."
Hospitality was a noble's duty and honor alike — and all the more so the more exalted the guest.
Of course, along with that hospitality came the possibility of a few small favors being asked.
"It would be a bother to get saddled with a request..."
"Why? The one troubled would be Abner or Jarpen, not you."
At Suaetlug's words, Johan realized it.
Come to think of it, he was in no way troubled here at all. All he had to do was sit back and enjoy himself.
Of course!
Johan changed his mindset from man in charge to man at leisure.
The lord's manor wasn't large, but it was cozy and warm, and the lord of House Balpa was a cheerful dwarf. Short in stature with a bright, merry voice, he laughed again and again as he congratulated them on their victory.
"You defeated a marquis's army! The army of that very Marquis Crucho! Surely the gods themselves must be watching over House Abner! Hahahaha!"
"......"
Marco and the other knights, seated around the table, broke into a cold sweat, unsure how to respond.
I must never let my identity slip. Not even under torture.
"In fact, Sir Johan here rendered great service in that very battle. He struck down the marquis's knights at the very front of the line."
"...!"
The lord's eyes went wide. He had known of House Abner and House Jarpen, but this was the first he'd heard of Johan.
Still, men of House Jarpen would hardly spin tall tales. The lord asked with astonishment written across his face.
"Such feats at so young an age! Truly remarkable. You are beloved by the gods. If only my own sons would distinguish themselves by even half as much..."
"Are your children knights, my lord?"
"Yes."
From what the lord said, it seemed his second daughter and third son had taken the knight's path.
The eldest had to carry on the family line, so the rest were left to find their own way in the world. The two of them had chosen knighthood over becoming scribes or priests.
"Might you possibly serve House Abner as a knight?"
"Pfft."
Stephan, mid-gulp of his beer, smothered a cough.
He was indeed a son of the house's blood, but the authority that came with it varied house to house — and Stephan ranked rather low in his. If he wrote an introduction letter here, Ulrike would be overjoyed.
"I... I beg your pardon. I hold no such authority..."
"A pity. But so it goes."
The lord hadn't seriously expected a yes anyway. When Stephan declined with modest grace, the dwarf gave him a look of newfound warmth. For a son of House Abner, he was remarkably humble.
Grrrr.
Suddenly, from a corner of the hall, Karamaf — who had been gnawing on a hunk of meat — lifted his head and growled low and murderous. The servants flinched and shrank back at the sound.
"Wh-what is it? Why is he doing that?"
Johan was puzzled too.
He checked, just to be safe (and was scolded by Suaetlug for needless suspicion), but the lord hadn't planted soldiers in ambush or anything of the sort.
"Are there monsters prowling near the manor? This wolf doesn't carry on like that without a reason."
"......"
The lord's face darkened for an instant. But it recovered quickly, and he waved his hands in dismissal.
"Nonsense. If that were so, every ser in my lands would have fled long ago."
"Fair point. Monsters seldom come near villages where people live."
Karamaf didn't bark again after that.
Johan made a hearty meal of everything the dwarf lord delighted in. The pork sausage, made with the sinews removed, was delicious, and so was the cabbage braised in fat and wine.
They say the dwarves' way of eating hasn't changed much since the Ancient Empire — it really is true.
There was an old-fashioned, distinctive character to it all that was unlike anything he'd tasted elsewhere.
The meal passed pleasantly enough, aside from the lord's offhand suggestion that Stephan might consider marriage with some relative or other.
"Asleep?"
"Not sleeping."
"Figured as much. You mean to take a night walk, don't you?"
"Yes."
"Then I'll come along."
Suaetlug was the sort of man who couldn't leave a mystery alone. And Johan was a man whose wariness ran deeper than his curiosity.
If Karamaf had growled, he couldn't rest easy until he'd found out why.
"Do you think the lord is hiding something?"
"Didn't seem like it. The beer was good."
"...I'm being serious."
"So am I. Judging by the taste, that beer was brewed in-house by his family. A coarse, ill-tempered dwarf could never brew anything like it."
Suaetlug could read a great many things from taste alone. Johan marveled at it — reading a man's character from his beer.
The more I look at him, the more I want him on my side.
"Here, take this silver-plated longsword, just in case. The monsters that show themselves at night are mostly wicked ones. My slaves can't react as sharply as you do, so keep your guard up."
"I'll be fine with Karamaf here."
Suaetlug's slaves were superb swordsmen, but certain parts of their character had been severed, and their instincts were dulled at times.
"Shall I not call the other knights as well?"
"More of us would only make it easier to be caught. Even if we are caught, it's no great matter — but it would be embarrassing, so keep your voice down. If it turns out to be a monster... I do hope it's something worth using."
"?"
"Something fit to use as a reagent. The rarer the material, the better."
"Haven't you... got rather too little sense of danger, my lord?"
Johan had come out to scout in case of an ambush. Suaetlug, meanwhile, had entirely different thoughts in mind.
The monsters found scattered across the Empire were one of the pillars of the mages' secrets. Only natural — they carried every manner of mystery hidden within their bodies.
"Whatever we find worth using, I'll share a fair portion with you. So go on and find something."
"Thank you, my lord. I'll search diligently."
Johan found himself remembering his days in his old fief. The days when he used to slip through quiet villages in the dead of night.
Things were very different now, but...
"Why do you suppose the lord wouldn't say anything?"
"Why don't you tell me for once."
"I thought it might be a matter of face."
"A sound reason."
"After all, it would be rather shameful to admit that a renowned lordly house of the west let a monster roam unpunished. But... that's a bit strange too, isn't it? If he doesn't ask for help at an opportunity like this, when would he ever?"
Suaetlug nodded. Johan was seeing things clearly. Face mattered, yes, but with knights like these on hand, asking for help now was the smarter play.
"So what's your conclusion?"
"I suspect it's a matter the lord himself is tangled up in."
"You know, sometimes I think — no, not sometimes. Often. You'd have made a fine scribe. Why didn't you go study at a university? Priesthood, I grant, would have been a poor fit."
"Thank you for the praise."
Unlike the other knights, Johan was capable of genuinely logical deduction. To Suaetlug's eyes, it was nothing short of remarkable.
Suddenly, the air went cold. A cold qualitatively different from winter's chill.
Karamaf began scraping the ground with his forepaws. Johan snapped alert and stared ahead.
A knight stood before them, eyes gleaming an eerie blue.
His chain mail was torn, the plate riveted over it shattered — a corpse in every visible respect.
And yet the oppressive weight of his presence was heavier, and far more repugnant, than any living knight's. Suaetlug cried out in a voice strangled with horror.
"A Death Knight...!"
When a person died nursing a ferocious grudge, they rose as undead. And a knight was the kind of man who could die nursing a grudge far more intense than an ordinary soul.
When such a knight failed to cast off his lingering obsession and roamed the earth as undead, he was called a Death Knight.
A Death Knight — the bringer of death to the living.
Suaetlug instinctively checked the moon's position. Come sunrise, a Death Knight could no longer roam.
It's come out too early!
Could the magic he currently held bring down that Death Knight?
Meanwhile, Johan was studying the knight's ears with particular care. Fortunately, they were not an elf's.
I was half afraid it might be Karamaf.
The dead forest where Karamaf had been slain was not far from here, so honestly, his heart had skipped a beat.
But if it wasn't, then it didn't matter.
A Death Knight?
It had a body, didn't it? Beat on it long enough and it would break like anything else!
Karamaf, my lord... I must find Karamaf, my lord...
"!?"