WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: HidingTurtle

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◈ The Wandering Knight and the Moving Castle ◈

Chapter 21: Great Warrior (4)

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The knight they had summoned from afar never made it to Bonyard City.

“It's a shame. I wanted to meet the knight.”

“Given the distance, I wasn't expecting much, Sir Eugene. Right now, the bigger issue is...”

Fannis looked troubled as he glanced at Cressy. Although stronger knights had been invited, Cressy had stubbornly insisted on entering the arena.

“If the Knight of Prophecy's disciple and Karas are there, I won't even need to step in. And if it comes to that, I can just surrender at the right time.”

That was what Cressy thought. Simply entering the arena meant a very different payout.

“If both of them lose and I have to fight, it won't matter if some other fool from the city takes my place.”

It was an excuse to comfort himself, but the frustrating part was that it wasn't entirely wrong.

Regardless of skill, those who had invited him could hardly tell a knight who wished to fight honorably to stay out.

“Welcome! I hope you've all prepared well.”

Count Andar smiled as he drank wine. It was the smile of someone certain he could not lose.

The locations for trials by combat varied. An ordinary duel between knights could take place in a suitable open field, while powerful nobles sometimes rented a coliseum and turned the event into a grand spectacle.

Whether they won or lost, Bonyard City did not want to turn this incident into a grand spectacle. That was why they had chosen an abandoned temple near the city.

Guests arrived one by one and took their seats around the arena.

“You're drinking already?”

“What else am I supposed to do? I'm in such a good mood that I keep craving wine.”

“You should watch a fight with a clear head if you want to enjoy it. Stop drinking.”

“All right, all right!”

The Gord nobles exchanged greetings with laughter.

“They already think they've won. Arrogant bastards.”

“They came thoroughly prepared, so of course they're confident.”

“Look at the size of them. What on earth did they eat to grow that big? It's not that I don't trust our knights, but compared to them...”

The influential figures on Bonyard City's side spoke in hushed voices, intimidated by the difference in status and power.

They spoke carefully, but Eugene heard every word. Before the battle, he had closed his eyes and sharpened his senses.

Scrape, scrape.

Beside him, the sound of Karas sharpening his blade with a whetstone helped Eugene focus.

“I get that you're confident in your strength, but shouldn't you loosen up your muscles? If you stay still like that, your body will stiffen.”

Karas asked with a curious expression.

There were knights who meditated. Still, this was the first time he had seen someone remain with his eyes closed before a duel. It would be better to spend that time observing gaps in an opponent's armor or the reach of their weapons.

“Every knight has their own way of preparing for a fight.”

“I'm just curious.”

Whoosh!

“Raaah!”

Across the way, a Gord Champion swung his weapon to warm up as the audience cheered.

“It's far better than flailing around like that and making a racket.”

Karas valued speed and technique over brute strength, so he found the sight contemptible.

“My blade has been sharpened enough. Now it's time to sharpen my senses. That's something I can't prepare in advance.”

“...I have to ask, just in case. Can you predict the future like Sir Gopri?”

Eugene half-opened his eyes.

“I wasn't seriously asking!”

Karas looked awkward beneath Eugene's stare, as if Eugene had been looking at an idiot.

After venturing out into the wider world, Eugene had learned that far more people than expected believed Gopri truly fought while receiving divine revelations. Perhaps that was only fitting for an age that could never abandon faith and superstition.

“Karas. How about reconsidering the order? I admit you're strong, but you don't look like you'd come out intact against those three. They're on a different level from the men at the city estate.”

Eugene had been pleased when Karas volunteered to go first some time ago, but over the past few days, he had grown attached to him. He did not want to see Karas die or suffer serious injuries.

“The matchups don't seem favorable either.”

Karas was the type to fight with technique, using a rapier and main-gauche.

A brutish two-handed axe like the one Volx wielded could break his weapons even if he tried to parry it.

He could not engage Lipton, renowned for his supreme shieldsmanship, in a close exchange. If Lipton pushed in behind his shield and started battering him, even nimble Karas would have trouble.

“You don't need to worry.”

Yet the reckless Samurian wastrel remained calm.

“I don't hunt monsters or fight in battles and tournaments. Even so, there's one reason I made a name for myself so quickly.”

Karas spun the rapier and main-gauche in his hands.

“I spent all my time punching holes through knights' bodies. That's the most efficient way to earn fame.”

“And make enemies. Don't you think you're only still alive because you're from House Cruise?”

“Maybe they thought so, because once my family disowned me, plenty of people came after me. Not one of them ever succeeded in laying a hand on me.”

Karas paused, then sighed.

“Except you.”

“One more person did. My Squire.”

“What?”

Karas turned to look at Homi. She was waiting quietly, and even her tail, which usually swayed at least a little, did not move. A small laugh escaped her instead.

“Do you have a bump on the back of your head, by any chance?”

“I do, but why...”

Karas rubbed the small bump on his head. The wound had almost healed.

“After you passed out at the tavern, Homi threw you. Your head hit a table and made quite a sound.”

“...I see.”

“How about we call the debt between us settled with that? Stop bothering me.”

“Fine by me. There are people in front of me who can take my anger anyway.”

Karas did not speak to Eugene again after that.

* * *

Eugene did not consider the Gord Champions a threat.

Unlike monster hunts or large-scale battles, a one-on-one fight favored him absolutely.

Still, it was only natural to prepare completely for something he had never experienced. Since this was his first trial by combat, he wanted to face it with his senses at their sharpest.

A short while after the last guest arrived, the sand in the hourglass ran out. The moment that would decide Bonyard City's fate had come.

“It's finally starting.”

Count Andar rubbed his palms together and licked his lips.

The Gord officials and Champions stood on the left, while Bonyard City's officials and Champions stood on the right.

The seats of honor at the front were occupied by guests invited as witnesses. Some were lower in status than the nobles, but it was an old tradition to yield the seats of honor to observers.

A noble from Roman stepped onto the platform.

“Today, we have gathered here to receive judgment from the gods.”

The noble spoke in a solemn voice. Before a duel, the address was given by a noble, priest, or knight of great renown.

The stakes were too high for a knight to deliver the address this time, and the priests had declined because it was such a greedy duel. A Roman noble, who often involved themselves in such matters, was the right person for the role.

“What happens here will be watched by the consciences of both sides, the eyes of the observers, and the gods. There must be no falsehood or dishonor. Once the sacred judgment is made, you must accept the result.”

Everyone present offered prayers to their respective gods.

“Now is the time to praise the honorable Champions.”

The audience applauded and cheered for the Champions they supported.

The excitement was clearly stronger on Gord's side. A massive axe warrior simply made for a more impressive spectacle.

Eugene and Karas both continued their preparations as if they had no interest in the response, leaving the Bonyard City supporters deflated.

“Now it begins. The gods are just, so let us leave the judgment entirely to them. All we may beg of them is mercy! Good fortune to you all!”

The Roman noble stepped back, and true tension began to fill the air.

“Shall I go, then?”

Karas was about to step into the arena.

“Wait!”

At that moment, Count Andar raised a hand.

The witnesses' brows twitched. Once the representative's declaration ended, only the Champions' fight was supposed to remain. Someone else interfering went against custom.

“What is it, Count Andar?”

The Roman noble who had given the speech asked in a plainly displeased tone.

“As you said in your speech, the gods' judgment is sacred above all else. So I would like to add one more expression of divine will to this important duel.”

“Add the gods' will? What do you mean?”

Perhaps curious about the unfamiliar proposal, the Roman noble's tone softened.

“It's simple. Let us entrust the order of entry into the arena to the gods as well. We did not decide an order for that reason.”

Count Andar shrugged while looking at Gord's three Champions.

“Deciding the order now would be troublesome. They're all proud knights.”

The Roman noble bit their lip.

“Those uncouth Gord bastards.”

It was obvious disrespect, but the noble could not order the duel stopped.

“What is your method?”

“Ha ha! It is time to show you a tradition beloved by our people.”

At Count Andar's signal, a servant brought six lots in the form of sticks.

Gord nobles, with the blood of both sea raiders and merchants in their veins, liked methods favored by mercenaries.

“Will Bonyard City accept?”

“What choice do we have?”

The Chief Magistrate, acting as Bonyard City's representative, replied coldly.

Given the difference in strength between them, they had no choice but to accept. It might even be better this way. If Gord lost and tried anything foolish, they could use this as grounds to stop them.

“We even accepted the lots you proposed on your own. How can you act so petty over a sacred result?”

If they said that, Gord would have no possible excuse.

“Then I will take that as acceptance. Champions of both sides, draw your lots.”

With a broad grin, Count Andar held out three sticks in each of his pot-lid-sized hands.

All of Gord's lots were drawn by their Squires, while Karas and Cressy stepped forward themselves for Bonyard City. Only Eugene, who had a Squire, had Homi draw his lot.

“Damn it.”

With his sharpened hearing, Eugene heard Cressy curse. His plan to hide behind two powerful knights and collect his reward had fallen apart.

“You've all drawn. Good fortune to you.”

Count Andar laughed heartily and returned to his seat.

“A count, you say? Heh heh.”

“Stop it. You're giving me chills.”

“Count Andar! Allow me to offer Your Excellency a drink.”

“I said stop it!”

Once Count Andar sat down, the nearby nobles began teasing him.

The kingdoms of this world had originally each used different systems of titles.

Yet because the Ancient Kingdom used a five-rank noble system, royal families seeking to make use of its legitimacy had also granted titles based on those five ranks.

Over the long years, the five-rank system had spread across the entire continent.

Gord, however, took great pride in its bloodline, so it still retained the custom of using only two titles, king and War Lord.

It was a culture gradually fading away, and they used the five-rank system in foreign affairs for diplomatic purposes.

“Damn it!”

“Bloody hell...”

Karas was disappointed, while Cressy lamented. Karas had apparently drawn a later number, while Cressy had drawn number one.

“Third. My luck really isn't with me. Sir Cressy, good luck.”

Karas said as he stood beside Eugene.

“...”

Cressy put on his helmet with a grim expression. His companion's encouragement did not seem to reach his ears.

“Damn Gord nobles!”

Cressy faced the first Champion from the other side, who held a two-handed axe and glared at him with blazing eyes.

“Grah!”

The roar sounded as though Volx would chew him alive. Cressy's heart sank at that intimidating presence. Of all three, it had to be Volx, the largest and most vicious.

Even so, if he ran now, his life as a knight would be over. He also had large gambling debts, and if he lost his knighthood, his life would be in danger.

“Damn it all!”

With that sort of mindset from the very start, the outcome was obvious.

“Wait! I surrender...”

Not long after the fight began, Cressy was driven into a corner and declared his surrender. But the axe blade came down through his cry.

Crunch!

“Argh!”

Cressy's sword fell to the ground as blood spurted like a fountain.

Split open from his right shoulder to his chest by the massive axe blade, he rolled across the floor.

“Eek!”

“Oh, no...”

“Ha ha ha ha!”

The noblewomen screamed and buried their faces against their lovers' and husbands' chests. The Bonyard City dignitaries groaned with stricken expressions. Gord clapped and stomped their feet as though at a festival.

“Grrrk.”

Servants quickly dragged away the dying Cressy, leaving a long trail of blood behind him.

The physician on standby shook their head. The wound was far too severe to treat. All they could do was administer strong painkillers to ease his suffering as he died.

“His armor wasn't in good condition. Thin chain mail with broken links can't stop an axe like that.”

Karas looked saddened. A knight who had entered on the same side dying so pointlessly left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Sir Volx is victorious! Honor to the victor, condolences to the defeated!”

The Roman noble shouted.

If the defeated side survived, words of encouragement or wishes for recovery would be offered instead of condolences. But anyone could see that Cressy's wound was fatal.

“Sir Volx says he will continue to build his honor!”

When Volx's Squire shouted, cheers erupted from Gord's seats. Bonyard City's side, in contrast, felt like a funeral.

As everyone's gaze turned toward Eugene, the next challenger, he opened his eyes. The brown eyes he had inherited from his mother stared coldly at Volx.

Footnotes:

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