WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: HidingTurtle
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ The Wandering Knight and the Moving Castle ◈
Chapter 39: What It Means to Become a Commander (2)
──────
The air of war hung heavy as they entered Roman territory.
The Imperial Faction, seeking profit under the Emperor, stood opposed to the Noble Faction, which sought to protect its established privileges. People who smelled money in the conflict gathered from every direction.
Mercenary bands numbering from dozens to hundreds marched along the roads. Merchants followed them, along with travelers and laborers traveling under their protection.
Eugene found the sight somewhat strange.
“The real war hasn’t even started yet. Aren’t they moving too early? If they come with several hundred men and can’t find work, their hearts will sink.”
The mercenary captain laughed at the blunt words, which hardly sounded like something a noble would say.
“It’s certainly stressful if you arrive early and can’t get a contract. Still, there are benefits.”
“What benefits? Getting the stronger nobles’ contracts first?”
When gambling with one’s life, it was only natural to side with whoever had the better odds of winning. If a viscount and a baron fought, everyone would want to join the viscount’s army.
“That too, but wages don’t get delayed early in a war.”
“...I keep forgetting how things work around here.”
It was a simple yet deflating reason.
“If you join in the middle of a war, there are plenty of places hiring, so you can find work quickly. Places that urgently need soldiers also offer high pay. But there’s a greater risk they’ll cheat you out of your wages. Any mercenary with some experience has been cheated at least once.”
At the captain’s words, complaints cursing former employers poured out from every direction.
“Don’t worry. I’d never do that. I’m someone who even exchanges hugs with the Black Hand Mercenary Company.”
Listening to his subordinates laugh, Eugene scanned the people marching in the distance.
‘Their equipment is definitely different from Bonyard City’s.’
They looked ready to throw themselves into a real war and get their share. Many mercenaries rode horses, and some even wore chainmail like knights.
Humans were not the only ones moving busily across the land.
Coooo!
Caw!
Pigeons and crows flew in every direction, notes tied to their legs. Some likely carried messages urging allied houses to unite, while others held secret letters that would decide hundreds of lives.
For a while, the roads were lively with people gathered from every direction. As they traveled deeper into Roman territory, though, the smell of death began to fill the air.
“There was a battle.”
Nine corpses lay ahead.
“A rookie mercenary band probably looked easy, so they attacked them. About half fought back. The rest knelt and begged, then were stabbed in the neck or back.”
A mercenary who had inspected the bodies reported to Eugene.
“Tsk! This is what happens when a bunch of greenhorns come up here.”
“Damn it, this is souring my mood from the start.”
Most of the attacked mercenaries looked to be between their late teens and mid-twenties. Only one figure, apparently their captain, was middle-aged.
“From now on, keep a strict watch at night. Don’t forget that this place is crawling with people who can turn into bandits at any moment.”
“Don’t worry, Sir Knight. Everyone here survived that stage themselves.”
None of Eugene’s mercenaries would be overly rattled by this much. Still, the dangerous signs that kept appearing drew a few curses from them.
“Again?”
“Ugh, the smell.”
The mercenaries covered their noses at the sight of broken carts and salted fish ground into the dirt.
“It seems worse than we expected.”
Varda nodded, covering her nose with a handkerchief.
“At this point, it’s hard to call this random banditry.”
“People hired by hostile lords must be roaming around, then?”
“Probably. It’s a kind of preliminary skirmish.”
The invitation letter had said nothing about war. Considering the distance, the situation must have worsened rapidly after it was sent.
“From here on, this is House Morad’s fief.”
A mercenary who had returned from scouting reported to them. Whether they liked it or not, all they could do now was press onward.
* * *
The next looting they encountered was still in progress. Mercenaries turned bandits had descended on a small village and were causing chaos.
“Aaaagh!”
A farmer dragged by the hair left a line in the dirt with their feet. The cries of women and children rang out from every direction.
Most of the bandits were busy ransacking houses, leaving only a few outside. They were so excited that they failed to notice Eugene’s group approaching in secret.
“Will you attack? Judging by the size of the village, there are about as many looters as there are of us.”
The mercenaries looked eager for the order to attack. It was not because they were righteous, but because they wanted the spoils. If they ambushed looters alongside a knight, victory was nearly guaranteed.
“This will make a modest gift for House Morad.”
The mercenaries cheered inwardly and drew their weapons.
Clink.
Eugene also took out his long-handled flail.
Gulp.
“He’s finally using it.”
“I heard he smashed a Warg’s head in one blow with that.”
The mercenaries looked at the vicious, grotesque pole weapon with anticipation in their eyes.
“Charge.”
At Eugene’s command, the mercenaries rushed in all at once.
None of them shouted. The later the looters came out of each house, the easier it would be to defeat them one by one. They were veterans who understood that without being told.
“What?”
A looter carrying a basket full of fruit froze before the knight charging toward them with terrifying momentum.
“W-we are carrying out the Emperor’s orders...”
“You’re a subcontractor’s subcontractor.”
Eugene swung his long-handled flail as though there was no need to hear more.
Crack!
The bandit’s head spun one hundred and eighty degrees.
Thud!
Though the bandit fell face-down with their back exposed, their unfocused eyes stared at the sky.
“Ugh!”
The mercenaries shuddered at the gruesome sight, but they also felt relieved. Serving under a strong knight meant higher odds of survival and more chances to earn money.
“What’s going... Urk!”
Bandits stepping outside at the commotion were struck by bolts, spears, and blades. Each carried loot in their hands, slowing their response.
“We’re under attack!”
“Everyone, get out here! This isn’t the time to fool around!”
By the time they came rushing out to fight, nearly half their number had already been cut down.
A long-handled flail slammed into the chest of a bandit rushing out of a house.
Crack!
Every rib shattered, the bandit flew back into the house.
“I’ll finish them!”
One of Eugene’s subordinates entered the house, then immediately came back out. There was no need to finish anything.
“S-spare...”
The passing mercenaries saw a husband and wife holding kitchen knives approach the fallen bandit. A loud scream followed soon after.
“Open the door! Open it!”
The bandits hammered on tightly shut doors.
They had come out to fight, but when victory seemed impossible, they tried to hide back inside the houses. The villagers, however, desperately held the doors shut.
“Fuck! Open it already! If you don’t, I’ll kill you... Urk!”
Spears and axes sank into the backs of those frantically pounding on the doors.
“We surrender!”
“Please show mercy!”
When only three remained, the enemies being slaughtered threw down their weapons and raised both hands.
“Who hired you?”
“Duran! Baron Duran!”
Eugene looked at Varda. Roman was where she had spent most of her time, so she knew the political situation among its nobles well.
“They are a powerful noble house. They own two silver mines and several trade hubs.”
“What an enviable house.”
Money flowed in even if they sat still, regardless of disasters like floods or droughts. Was that not everyone’s dream?
“In terms of power alone, they would not lose to most count houses.”
“Even though they are a baronial house?”
“A house’s power does not always follow the order of noble titles.”
Gopri had thoroughly trained Eugene as a knight and commander, but Eugene lacked knowledge of the political dynamics of noble society.
“Besides, House Duran was originally a viscount house. Their greed ran directly counter to Roman’s banner, so their relationship with the royal family was poor. I heard their title was reduced in the past.”
“From what I’ve heard, they seem like they’d get along well with the Emperor.”
“House Duran and the Emperor likely don’t trust one another. They simply have a business relationship based on profit.”
The Emperor had taken the reckless step of claiming the imperial title because there were quite a few nobles willing to ally with the Emperor.
Eugene looked down at the prisoners, who were desperately begging for mercy.
“If you forgive us just once, we’ll turn over a new leaf and live decent lives...”
Clink.
Eugene raised his long-handled flail and silenced the bandits.
“You are the enemies of the house that invited me, parasites feeding on decent people. There is no reason to keep you alive.”
“P-please, at least spare our lives... Aagh!”
The two prisoners, rubbing their hands together desperately, were cut down by the mercenaries’ swords.
“I am Eugene Mayer, a knight!”
Eugene shouted to the villagers who cautiously peeked through their windows.
“On my way here at the invitation of your lords, House Morad, I found these cruel looters and put them down!”
The villagers thanked Eugene through tears at the knight’s proud declaration.
The mercenaries gathered the spoils and left the village with a strange feeling of exhilaration. It was different from the satisfaction of victory and money.
The grateful looks in the eyes of the villagers they had saved gave them a new kind of satisfaction. It was a feeling they had never experienced in all their years as mercenaries.
* * *
The mercenaries under Eugene had worked for many employers, but this knight was uniquely strange among them.
“Hoffman. Show me the wound.”
“Yes, Sir Knight.”
The only injured mercenary rolled up his sleeve.
“You really don’t need to do this yourself...”
“Didn’t you receive that honorable wound while saving a child taken hostage? There’s only one injured man, so I’ll treat you myself.”
Even the mercenary captain who had tried to stop him quietly stepped back.
Hoffman was as large and fierce-looking as a bear, but unlike his appearance, he had a strong sense of justice.
“You won’t last long as a mercenary. You got yourself hurt doing something needless. If you ever get seriously stabbed, that’ll be the end of your life.”
“Enough. It was still impressive, wasn’t it? There should be men like him. Maybe then people will think a little better of mercenaries. Honestly, it’s miserable how everyone looks at us like we’re bandits-in-waiting.”
“That’s true.”
His comrades alternated between insults and praise.
Everyone except Hoffman was unharmed. That was only natural, considering a heavily armed knight and skilled mercenaries had attacked scattered enemies who were distracted.
Eugene washed the cut, which was about three finger joints long, with water before applying the ointment Varda had made.
“Does it hurt?”
“No, sir.”
“Then why are you making that face?”
Hoffman’s face was twisted. It was not a wound an experienced mercenary would be unable to bear.
“It’s the first time a captain, no, a knight, has shown me such consideration.”
“Ah, that was it.”
His expression did not come from pain, but from the emotion welling up inside him.
A wound he had received unnecessarily out of compassion. By a mercenary’s standards, that might have made him unqualified.
The Reaper likes good mercenaries best.
It was a proverb passed down among mercenaries as common sense. But Eugene saw it differently.
‘Someone like him would be perfect to raise into a trusted retainer.’
He could not keep relying only on mercenaries bound to him by money. He needed trustworthy retainers with both skill and character.
As he employed the mercenaries, Eugene planned to invite anyone suitable to become one of his direct subordinates. The man before him was more than qualified.
As Eugene wrapped the bandage and finished the treatment, Varda was also giving orders to the mercenaries.
“Butterfly nettles, wandering grass, and scarf mushrooms? I know the first two.”
“I know scarf mushrooms.”
A mercenary who had once been a hunter and another who had once been a woodcutter raised their hands.
“They should be growing in abundance nearby.”
Varda pointed to several places. As an elf who wielded forest magic, she immediately understood what plants grew naturally even in a place she had never visited.
They gathered medicinal herbs whenever they had time. There was no need to spend money buying them from shops, and freshly picked ingredients worked better.
“I will assign two more mercenaries to you, so gather them. We will need a steady supply for ointments and insect repellent.”
“We’ll return within two hours. While we’re at it, we’ll teach them how to distinguish medicinal herbs.”
“Excellent.”
Varda nodded with satisfaction. Veterans did not become veterans for nothing. Give them one order, and they’ll understand two.
Though it was menial work they would not normally do, the mercenaries obeyed without complaint. They had seen Hoffman treated with that medicine.
They had seen countless mercenaries die after small wounds festered, or suffer fever after being bitten by venomous insects while camping.
Wheee!
At Homi’s whistle and gesture, the donkeys lined up before a shallow stream to drink.
“Do you remember what I told you? I said I sensed, in Homi, the spirits of the animals that follow her.”
“Of course. I don’t forget even the smallest thing you say, Lady Varda.”
“Hehe.”
As Varda smiled softly, Homi was neatly lining up the three warhorses as well.
After obtaining Sandy, the Samurian desert warhorse, she had spent all day riding and bonding with the horse. At some point, she had gained this talent.
“That goes beyond skill.”
“Is it a kind of magic?”
“I think it’s slightly different. Magic, whether great or small, consumes physical strength and mental energy. But that child commands animals as though she is simply speaking with them.”
Homi made caring for the donkeys easier. Even during battle, they did not run away, instead staying at a suitable distance.
Her ability to command animals had only just awakened, and it was exciting to imagine how much it would grow.
“Heaven took away her voice and gave her something else in return. In any case, both the knight and his Squire are remarkable.”
Varda looked between Eugene and Homi with an interested expression.
“That makes three, including you, Lady Varda. Please don’t forget that you share our fate.”
“Right. I suppose that’s true.”
She was certain there was no other group in the world as distinctive and capable as this small party.
Footnotes:
Join our discord at https://dsc.gg/wetried
