WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: HidingTurtle

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◈ The Wandering Knight and the Moving Castle ◈

Chapter 61: Spiritual Tide (3)

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The mercenaries, fired up with fighting spirit, unleashed a volley from their crossbows. Homi’s howl had done more than merely drive away their fear.

Not even the slightest tremor ran through their hands as they aimed, and their bolts flew with greater accuracy than usual.

Papapap!

The Ghoul swiftly used a Wight as a shield, something only a creature with intelligence, unlike ordinary undead, could do.

Eugene had already learned that pattern in past battles. He threw his spear on reflex. He did not need to think. His body moved on its own.

Thud!

The spear pierced straight through the Wight’s torso and the Ghoul’s face.

The Ghoul died instantly without even screaming. Another Ghoul charged in beside its fallen body.

“It’s coming! Hold!”

Four or five mercenaries with large shields braced shoulder to shoulder. The Ghoul swung its claws as if they were beneath its notice.

Crack!

Wood splintered, and one mercenary was thrown back. The shield must have absorbed the blow, since no blood sprayed.

Even then, the remaining mercenaries did not retreat. Homi filled the gap, shield and military hammer in hand.

Haind was running over as well, but he was still too far away.

Grrrrr!

The Ghoul targeted Homi first. Though she was tall, her slender frame must have made her seem like easy prey.

Homi was driven back a few steps, but she held firm against its claw attack. Her hammer swung at once, crushing two of the Ghoul’s fingers.

“Get in close!”

“Are you going to make the Squire handle it alone?!”

The mercenaries snapped out of it at the sight of the tough girl, who had not even come of age yet. More rushed in and formed a thick shield wall, and even the Ghoul faltered before their momentum.

That brief opening decided its fate. A long-handled flail flew through the darkness and smashed into the back of its head.

Thud.

The second Ghoul fell with brain matter spilling from its skull. Only a handful of groaning Wights remained, and the mercenaries let out a victorious roar.

* * *

“I’m sorry.”

After the battle, Varda spoke beside the mercenaries, who were busily digging into the ground.

“It’s nothing, Mage. Thanks to you, not one person was hurt.”

“We’d do this a hundred times over.”

Though the battle was over, the mercenaries could neither move on nor rest. At Varda’s request, they had to bury the bodies where they fell.

“I made a temporary contract with the plants native to this place. In exchange for binding the invaders’ feet, I must provide them with nourishment.”

Varda had been able to cast such powerful magic in an instant because she had made a contract that demanded payment. If she failed to fulfill her obligation, she would suffer a magical backlash.

“Is it all right to just bury undead like this?”

Eugene wondered whether ghosts might appear later, or whether anyone camping nearby would suffer nightmares.

“There is no problem. It is also a way to purify the undead.”

“Just burying them does that?”

“Normally, no. But plant elemental spirits have gathered here now. I can hear them smacking their lips in excitement over the payment for the contract.”

Eugene listened closely, but he could hear nothing.

Just as Varda could not understand the summoning circle in the ruins, Eugene could not perceive the forest’s secrets.

“Once they hold their feast, the evil energy and lingering grudges will disappear as well. It is a kind of offering.”

“An offering to the elemental spirits.”

The mercenaries digging with all their might perked up their ears.

When they bragged about this experience to other mercenaries later, their stories would gain even more flavor. A mercenary who missed a chance to act proud over drinks was no mercenary at all.

“Sir, this one had a silver arrowhead lodged in its back.”

At Haind’s report, they set aside the Ghoul’s severed head.

“It may be one the monks were hunting. It will help if we bring it with us.”

“Thank you for the advice.”

Having received all sorts of training at The Knight's House, Haind supported Eugene well in matters like this.

“Gyarrrr!”

“Kahang?!”

“Kyaaaaa.”

Homi, meanwhile, rubbed her throat and repeated cute little howls.

“What are you doing?”

“Ugh...”

She blushed in embarrassment at Eugene’s question.

Homi was trying to recreate the roar she had used without realizing it during the battle. Yet she could not bring back the feeling from before at all.

“I once read records of ancient warriors who ruled the battlefield with their battle cries.”

Varda approached with an intrigued expression.

“They fought with their voices?”

“When warriors fight with weapons, they do not only swing their arms. They shout all kinds of battle cries and curse. Like your subordinates.”

Eugene’s mercenaries were veterans who understood loyalty, restraint, and the virtue of knowing where to draw the line.

Still, they could not stop themselves from swearing, making crude jokes, and taunting the enemy in battle. To them, it was like a hymn sung by priests fighting evil foes.

“Long ago, language was far simpler than it is now. There was a time when words such as thank you, sorry, and lend did not even exist.”

“I have heard that primitive tribes on very isolated islands are similar even now.”

“Oh, that may be so. In any case, they say ancient warriors could not express many of their feelings because language was so crude, and those emotions built up inside them.”

It was something close to deep, unresolved resentment.

“When life and death were on the line in battle, those feelings were bound to explode. At such times, the very few warriors with magical talent could pour miracles into their battle cries.”

“For example?”

Varda gently stroked Homi’s shoulder.

“In desperate situations, they could give their comrades unbreakable courage, or awaken senses sharper and keener than usual.”

“Homi can communicate in sign language, though.”

“Is that not still worse than speaking? Some things are bound to build up in her heart.”

After trying again and again, Homi failed each time and grew dejected.

“No one masters something on the first try. Thanks to you, everyone made it through without getting hurt.”

The mercenaries’ eyes held as much reassurance as respect when they looked at Homi.

Having a companion who could resolve situations beyond the reach of swords and spears brought indescribable relief.

Those who feared superstition also longed for someone capable of wielding it.

“Is everyone all right? You did not even get a few hours of sleep.”

“No one would want to rest where they fought undead and buried them, Sir.”

“I feel the same.”

As soon as dawn broke, the group set out.

“Do you think there might be some evil heretical mage nearby? It’s too soon for undead to rise.”

“Do heretical mages appear that often?”

“We’ve already fought one!”

The mercenaries from Bonyard City looked around uneasily despite the sunlight.

After more than ten years as a mercenary, one gained the nerve to laugh off a few Wights. Yet when they could not understand the source of it, fear was unavoidable.

As they advanced along the road, they came upon a land of death. Bones and corpses filled the landscape as far as the eye could see.

“So the undead came from here.”

“Whoa, how many people died here? Looks like a whole bunch of nobles went at each other.”

The mercenaries looked sickened. Battlefields like this were what they feared most.

In large-scale battles, arrows and cavalry lances came flying by the dozens. It was difficult to collect loot, and one careless moment could get someone trampled to death for nothing.

“Under God’s protection, cast aside your regrets and depart for a peaceful place.”

“Oh Lord, grant me the strength to wash away the resentment of these dead...”

Priests were performing purification rites everywhere. Under the banners of different monasteries, they moved about reciting prayers and sprinkling holy water.

Several among them were armed and wore armored robes. They were combat priests, who focused on carrying out God’s will through force.

“It seems every nearby monastery has sent priests.”

“We can only be grateful.”

Eugene did not have faith, but he respected priests. In this cold world ruled only by the law of the strong, they were among the few who practiced selfless compassion for others.

He could not deny the nobility of that. Now that he had risen to become a lord, there were practical reasons as well.

A knight rode over from among the priests. His black surcoat bore a religious symbol, marking him as a monastic knight.

Eugene greeted him first.

“God will surely be pleased by your devotion.”

“Thanks be to God. I am Andrew of the Hospitaller Order.”

There were especially powerful groups within The Knight's House, and they were called knightly orders.

They held influence close to that of minor lords, owning large territories in cities or ruling villages with castles as their bases.

“This area is dangerous. If you are thinking of camping at night, I recommend reconsidering it. Ghouls and Wights are roaming about.”

“We already had a fight with them while we were sleeping.”

At Eugene’s gesture, the mercenaries brought over two Ghoul heads loaded on a donkey.

“Good heavens! Those are the ones we lost. We have caused you trouble, Sir.”

“Please do not say that. I am only grateful for your noble work. Besides, we suffered no casualties.”

“That is remarkable.”

Andrew and the priests had neutralized Ghouls with hymns, but Eugene’s group had no such means.

For warriors relying only on the strength of steel, Ghouls were difficult enemies.

“May I ask your name, Sir?”

“I am Eugene Mayer of House Mayer.”

“I have not heard the name before. I spend most of my time at the monastery, so I am unfamiliar with news from outside.”

It seemed Eugene’s name was not yet well known in northern Roman.

“What happened here?”

“The largest battle in the north between the Noble Faction and the Imperial Faction took place here. It was so fierce that both sides withdrew with difficulty, unable even to deal with the aftermath. As you can see, this was the result...”

The monastic knight looked grim. A place like this was ideal for undead to run rampant.

“Has it not been far too soon since the war began? I understand that undead outbreaks usually occur only after a large war has continued for at least a year.”

Even as Eugene asked, he had already guessed half the answer.

‘Is the Spiritual Tide affecting this too?’

If the present world was becoming more easily saturated with spiritual power, then such harmful effects would also be easier to bring about.

“The bishop says the cycle of an evil god has arrived. Since we are the only ones who care for the people, we must work even harder and travel the world.”

Those who believed in gods appeared to interpret the same phenomenon differently.

“The purification here will soon be complete, and you have eliminated the group we missed. Thanks to you, this area should be safe.”

“I have received a fief in the north to govern, and I am a knight as well. It was only right that I do so.”

“I will make sure to tell my brothers your name.”

They received no financial reward from those living in poverty, but leaving a good impression was enough.

The monks protected ordinary people from bandits, monsters, undead, and other evils without asking for payment. There was no reason not to remain on good terms with them.

* * *

After traveling for several more days, they finally arrived at Northfork.

The villagers were startled by the cavalry force that had suddenly appeared, but they did not flee. A homing pigeon had already delivered word that their new lord would be arriving.

“That must be the new lord we heard was coming.”

“S-So that is a real knight.”

With his enormous frame, as though he had been born different from them, fine armor, and magnificent black cloak fluttering behind him, Eugene overwhelmed the fief’s residents just by being there.

When Eugene headed toward the manor, the villagers became certain and knelt on one knee with their heads bowed. Greetings for their young new lord rose from all around.

“Welcome, my lord! We have been eagerly awaiting your arrival!”

The steward who had managed the manor in the lord’s absence came forward and bowed. He was a small, dark-skinned man in his forties.

“I am Eugene Mayer, the new master of this place. Will you show me around the manor?”

“Of course! This is the residence God has granted you, my lord! Even the manor will be pleased!”

The steward’s words were somewhat exaggerated, but he was not saying them merely to flatter Eugene. Born a commoner, he was the fifth generation of his family to serve the manor, and he sincerely believed every word.

Everything the steward had was tied completely to the manor in this riverside village, just like the Guardian Eugene had encountered in the ruins.

When the doors of the neat manor opened, a wide, clean corridor lay beyond them.

“My lord?”

The steward, who had been leading them with brisk steps, looked puzzled when Eugene stopped at the entrance to the corridor.

“Homi. The time has finally come.”

At Eugene’s signal, Homi hurried over. In her hands was the Wendigo trophy, its massive black horns standing proudly.

Eugene took it from her and hung it in a prominent spot in the corridor.

“W-What kind of monster is this?”

The steward stared at it in shock, then soon gazed up at the trophy with rapture. He was captivated by the enormous black horns, which glittered like jewels whenever they caught the light.

Having completed another item on his bucket list, Eugene walked down the corridor.

“Bring the blacksmith, Barson! We need chains and locks made to secure that.”

“I will go at once!”

At the steward’s order, a servant ran off at full speed.

Just as the letter delivered by homing pigeon had said, his new lord truly was a great knight. He could not let some thief steal that honorable proof of achievement.

Imagining the guests who would visit the manor gazing up at it in admiration, the steward could not help but lift his shoulders with pride.

Footnotes:

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