WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: HidingTurtle

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◈ The Wandering Knight and the Moving Castle ◈

Chapter 27: Varda (3)

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“We raided a small village on the road we came from, but there was nothing worth taking. The bastard deputy captain talked us into ambushing unwary people near the city, since we were leaving anyway...”

The bandit, who had been rolling his eyes to avoid the swaying iron club, slammed his face into the ground.

“I’ve committed a sin worthy of death! Please, have mercy!”

“Who was the deputy captain?”

With a trembling hand, the bandit pointed at a corpse with a bolt lodged in its eye.

They questioned him further about the assembled bandit group, but he had been away from them for some time and was too low-ranking to know anything useful.

“Waaah! Please spare me.”

“Come on! I said I’m not going to kill you. Why are you crying?”

“I really don’t know anything!”

Even after the hunter mercenary worked him over a little, nothing else came out. It was clear he knew nothing more.

“Caravan Master Caliber.”

“Yes! I’m here!”

Caliber, who had been clutching his horse with bated breath, hurried over. The sun had climbed higher while they fought and questioned the bandits, and dawn now lit the world.

“There’s no point trying to sleep again after this. Shall we prepare to depart?”

“We should. Sleep and all that nonsense have completely fled me. We should clear away the bodies first. Leaving them there would be disrespectful to the road.”

At Caliber’s gesture, the workers hesitantly approached the corpses, but the mercenaries stepped in front of them.

“What is it?”

“Um, well...”

At Eugene’s question, the mercenary captain clasped both hands respectfully.

“The knight and the Squire defeated most of them, so shouldn’t you take the spoils first?”

His gaze rested on the iron club lying on the ground.

“Hmm.”

A quick look over the corpses revealed nothing particularly valuable.

They were the sort who tried to make a quick fortune while the city was in turmoil, and they had even fled from their own group. There was no way they would have carried anything useful.

Gathering everything would bring in a fair amount, but it would look undignified, and selling it all immediately would be troublesome.

“Let’s do this. Search their pockets and give me only the money and valuables. You can keep the rest.”

“Thank you!”

The mercenaries bowed happily. The bandits clearly did not have much money. In situations like this, weapons, armor, shoes, and all sorts of small tools were worth more.

The knight and Squire had nearly wiped out the bandits by themselves. All the mercenaries had done was hold formation, then stab the ones who fled.

And yet he was being so generous. As expected of a Victor Knight!

* * *

“Once we cross this bridge, there’ll be a fork in the road.”

Caliber pointed to a stone bridge crossing the valley stream.

“A work of the Ancient Kingdom.”

“That’s right. That little bridge feeds countless households.”

Aside from the moss growing over it, the bridge had not suffered a single crack as it endured the years and rushing waters.

Such imperishable bridges made travel easier for countless peddlers and travelers across the continent.

Naturally, many stories had grown around them. There was one left by a man who had spent his entire life collecting tolls at a bridge before retiring.

“My old friend! You were my playground when I was young, then gave me work when I became an adult, and now provide a resting place for my old bones. Thanks to you, my two sons and two daughters all married well. I’d like to leave even this insignificant man’s name with the friend who spent sixty years beside me... but you wouldn’t allow even that, would you?”

Stories of toll collectors bidding tearful farewells to bridges could be found in every region.

Splash!

Homi licked her lips at the sight of carp swimming between the lily pads and scattering droplets. She loved fish.

Not long after crossing the bridge, they reached a fork in the road.

“Take the left path here, and it’ll lead to the Emerald Forest. It’s so large and dense that you’ll recognize it at once.”

“It was a short journey, but an enjoyable one, Caravan Master.”

“The honor was mine, Sir Knight.”

Caliber bowed at a perfect ninety degrees.

He was grateful enough that Eugene had protected every item of merchandise and worker from harm, but Eugene had even handed over the prisoners at a reasonable price.

“They aren’t badly injured, and they’re fairly young, so selling them won’t be difficult. They should pay for their crimes through labor.”

The mercenaries surrounded the tightly bound bandits and glared at them. They looked ready to kill them on the spot.

“Mr. Caliber, can’t we just kill them?”

“Who would buy scum that’s rotten inside and out?”

Caliber waved a hand as if soothing a child.

“Isn’t even a comfortable death too good for this kind of bastard? They say it’s better to live even if you have to roll in a field of dog shit, but there are limits to that.”

“Of course it’s better to be alive, even in a field of shit. They should be judged for the people they killed and robbed.”

Caliber shook his head with a smile. His face held the chilling air merchants sometimes showed.

“They’ll do hard labor until nothing but skin remains over their ribs. They’ll spend the rest of their lives somewhere dark, where they won’t see the sun even when they wake. They’ll fill their bellies with moldy bread and rotten water.”

Caliber was a merchant. More than fleeting satisfaction, he believed in making every possible bit of money. If it also served as punishment, all the better.

“A blade gives brief pain and death, but this way gives them long despair as well. Still not enough?”

“I-I suppose you’re right.”

“I think Mr. Caliber is right.”

The mercenaries suddenly found the old merchant, who was nowhere near as strong as they were, frightening.

“I’m glad it’s all settled. Then may luck follow all of you.”

After saying goodbye, Eugene set off. Since the road split there, the caravan disappeared from view in an instant.

“Merchants can be as frightening as knights sometimes.”

Homi shrugged.

“As long as we get the money, that’s all that matters.”

Eugene opened the heavy pouch jingling in his hand. It was all copper coins, so it would not be worth much for its weight, but it also contained a ring set with a jewel and several pearls.

‘The person who sent the letter is a mage too. Won’t she be short on money if she lives in a forest?’

Homi had apparently grown curious after seeing the money pouch, and asked in sign language.

“I heard forest magic costs less than other schools. You can gather most of what you need.”

As long as a knight did not indulge in excessive luxuries, the difference between low and high upkeep was not that great.

For mages, though, expenses could differ as much as heaven and earth depending on the field they pursued.

“How old is the Lady of the Forest? I heard she hasn’t been living in the forest for very long.”

Based on the guard captain’s description, she seemed to be in her twenties, but her race made it impossible to be certain.

Elves were not immortal. They lived about twice as long as humans. Those descended from noble blood could live more than three times as long. They matured at a similar pace, but aged very slowly, so the lives they experienced far surpassed those of humans.

After they crossed a hill, a vast green forest appeared before them. A small village lay in ruins before it. It seemed to be the place the bandits had raided.

Fweet!

Homi pointed in one direction after spotting something.

“Someone survived.”

An old man lay on the ground, groaning. Homi checked the surroundings to make sure it was not a trap, then ran over and helped him up.

“Ugh...”

When she held a waterskin to his lips, the old man opened his mouth and drank.

“Th-thank you.”

“I am Knight Eugene Mayer.”

“I’m a resident of this insignificant village.”

The old man smiled with difficulty.

“Were you attacked by bandits?”

“Yes. There were a little over twenty of them. It had been a peaceful village for quite some time...”

“They’ve been dealt with. They won’t be coming back.”

“Thank you, Sir Knight. You have shown great kindness to every village in this area.”

The old man offered his thanks respectfully.

“It was what I should do as a knight. But I don’t see anyone else. Did they all flee?”

“There was no one here to begin with. My son’s family, the last ones remaining besides me, moved to the next village last year.”

Looking closely, the houses seemed less damaged by looting than already abandoned.

“I’m the only one left. Since there was nothing to take, those bandits beat me senseless just to vent their anger. At least they didn’t stab me.”

“It must be hard for someone so old to live alone in a place like this.”

“How much longer could I possibly live? I have no intention of leaving the place where I was born and have lived my whole life. My son is a good boy, so he tried every way he could to take me with him. He’s a fine lad.”

Love and pride for his son filled the wrinkles around his eyes.

“If you’ve lived here all your life, you must have seen many things.”

“That I have.”

The old man saw Eugene looking toward the Emerald Forest and wore an expression that said he understood everything.

“Are you curious about the Girl Who Walks the Wheat Fields?”

It was another nickname for Varda, the Lady of the Forest.

“How did you know... Then again, I suppose it was obvious.”

“I’m an ignorant farmer who has worked this land all my life. What else could a knight like you possibly want to ask me about? You’re not the first.”

Mercenaries, adventurers, envoys from the city, scholars who studied the world, even bards. Those passing nearby must have asked about her often.

“I saw her only once. It was over fifteen years ago now. There were still quite a few people in the village then.”

The old man’s face turned wistful, as though recalling a memory he could never forget.

“It was when a terrible famine struck the entire continent. The soil had turned dry and crumbly, and even the sunlight was weak, like the fluttering wings of a sick bird.”

“I’ve heard of it. It was the year of a famine so severe that some countries fell and vanished into history.”

They said cries of grief echoed across the entire continent during that unprecedented famine.

“Our village, too, despaired as the wheat fields withered away. But we couldn’t just sit still and starve to death. We went out from dawn to pull weeds, at least. It might have been pointless, but we wanted to struggle in whatever way we could.”

Most of the village’s fields had now been left untended, and what had been planted was potatoes rather than wheat. That was only natural, since the old man could not cultivate them alone.

“That was when I found her. A beautiful elven girl in a dress. She was walking gently above the dying wheat fields.”

The old man pulled up a blade of grass and placed his index and middle fingers on it, imitating someone walking.

“Her white bare feet, beaded with morning dew, passed over the fields, and golden wheat raised its heads all around her. By the time I came to my senses, the fields were full of rich grain. I can still see the innocent smile she showed before leaving.”

The old man paused and looked at Eugene.

“After witnessing that sight, I became bound to this village forever. How could I abandon this place and leave?”

His face was more reverent than that of any priest Eugene had seen at the monastery in his hometown.

* * *

Once they parted with the old man and entered the Emerald Forest, refreshing air filled their lungs. It felt as if they were bathing in the breath of trees and leaves.

Snort!

Might and Sandy also flared their large nostrils over and over, clearly enjoying it.

“Hmm?”

Then Eugene sensed something strange. It felt as though the wind were passing straight through his entire body.

Until a moment ago, he had heard two pairs of hoofbeats. Now he heard only one. When he looked back, Sandy, carrying Homi, was heading in another direction.

“Homi!”

She did not answer when he called.

“Might, turn around.”

Eugene turned his horse and rode over, then caught Homi by the wrist.

“...?”

Her innocent eyes looked at him as if asking what was wrong.

“You were heading in the wrong direction. You didn’t realize it?”

Homi looked around with an expression that asked, ‘Me?’

Even she, whose senses were keener than Eugene’s, had failed to notice anything strange and had nearly wandered off.

“Magic. Is this how people lost their way here?”

Holding Homi’s hand, Eugene rode alongside her toward the center of the forest.

“???”

Homi initially followed with a puzzled expression, but the moment she passed through the same spot...

“!!!”

Her pretty face twisted into a comical expression. She shivered as she wrapped her free arm around herself.

It was a bizarre sensation, like trying to force two identical magnetic poles together. Homi felt as though it were brushing over her entire body.

“Does it hurt, or do you feel nauseous?”

Homi shook her head.

It was only a strong sense of wrongness, not pain.

After the first time, Eugene felt nothing at all. The unknown force trying to beguile him had been repelled by his powerful soul.

“Pah!”

Homi exhaled.

‘It’s fine now! That was such a strange feeling! This really is a magical forest!’

Her freed fingers moved in a blur.

“That’s strange. She must know we’re the guests she invited, yet there’s no one here to greet us.”

She was a skilled mage who used birds as messengers and could see events far from the forest. She must already know Eugene had come.

“Is she unable to come out because she’s caring for the sick person mentioned in the letter?”

As they continued onward, they came upon a small meadow. The dense trees that had blocked their view in every direction now stood far away.

A large wooden mansion stood at its center. Dozens of trees and thousands of vines had tangled together, forming a house.

“Wait.”

When Eugene raised his right hand, Homi instinctively placed a hand on the crossbow strapped to her back.

“Don’t draw your weapon. We’re guests. We can’t cause trouble.”

Homi released the crossbow, pointed to her nose, and shook her head slightly.

“That makes sense. Those aren’t things you can detect by scent.”

Human-sized young trees, barely past the sapling stage, had been planted around the mansion. Eugene could faintly sense magic coming from them.

He took the letter from inside his clothes and held it up.

“I am Knight Eugene Mayer. Varda, the owner of this mansion, invited me here. I have come as a rightful guest.”

Creak.

Creak.

The young trees rooted in the ground began to writhe all at once. Arms and legs emerged from them, and wooden female figures rose one after another.

“dryad.”

Eugene muttered at the sight.

Footnotes:

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