WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: HidingTurtle
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◈ The Wandering Knight and the Moving Castle ◈
Chapter 63: Prophecy (2)
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Northern Roman was a favored place for nomadic peoples to gather for events. It lay at the center of the continent, with rivers connecting to the Inland Sea and making travel convenient.
“The festival grounds are near the dock, so you needn't worry about security.”
“Even if we've been invited, it wouldn't be good for too many armed humans to enter.”
Eugene boarded the ship with only a small escort.
“Sir Haind. I'm counting on you while I'm away.”
“Leave it to me.”
Haind gave a military salute as he saw Eugene off.
He remained in the fief to oversee its defense and receive guests. Thoughtful by nature and raised in a merchant family, he had a knack for that sort of work.
Haind was pleased with the assignment as well, since it gave him a chance to meet many knights.
As the merchant ship cut through the current, the mercenaries whistled. Having lived only inland, they found it exciting to glide along such a broad river.
“All right, listen up! The mage says anyone who gets seasick should take this.”
The mercenary captain held out the medicine, and every mercenary raised a hand.
“You bastards! Only raise your hands if you actually get seasick!”
“Captain, how are we supposed to know if we've never been on a ship?”
“Did you forget we're all country folk?”
The motion sickness medicine only prevented motion sickness, as its name suggested, but the ignorant mercenaries did not care about details like that.
‘If the mage made it, it must be good for both body and soul.’
A mysterious elf and a talented mage. Put those together, and the mercenaries wanted to shove the medicine into their mouths regardless of what it did.
“This is expensive! Get back!”
The mercenary captain batted away hands reaching from every direction like Wights.
“It’s expensive?!”
“Uoooooh!”
Yet hearing that it was expensive only made them louder.
The passengers came from all walks of life, peddlers, pilgrims, mercenaries, adventurers, free knights, bards, scribes, even prisoners being transported under guard.
Among them, Eugene spotted Hospitaller knights in black surcoats and approached them. Since becoming a lord, they were a group he especially wanted to befriend.
“Thank you for the aid you provided in my fief.”
The secular knights had simply rested while waiting for the ship, but the Hospitaller knights were providing medical aid, true to their name.
“Repay that gratitude with prayer. We have merely offered our bodies to the will of God.”
They had no intention of sitting still after boarding either, tending to pilgrims aboard the ship.
“This will need to be cut open.”
A pilgrim's leg, swollen with pus, lay stretched out before them. An old knight holding a sterilized medical dagger offered strong rum.
The pilgrim gulped it down.
“I-I'm ready.”
The pilgrim spoke with a determined expression, but the old knight shook their head.
“That won't be enough. Drink more.”
The pilgrim gulped down several more mouthfuls.
“Urrgh.”
“Now bite down on this.”
Once the pilgrim clenched a clean cloth between their teeth, the blade cut into the flesh.
“!!!”
Eyes wide, the pilgrim trembled and let out a muffled groan.
With the smallest incision possible, the old knight skillfully drained the pus. After disinfecting the wound and applying ointment, they wrapped it tightly in bandages.
To Eugene, the old knight's white hair made the old knight seem far older than even Gopri. When Eugene tactfully asked about it, the Hospitaller knight smiled.
“There is no retirement for us. Monsters are not the only enemies we must fight. Hunger and disease are our enemies as well.”
“Perhaps monsters may be eradicated someday. But aren't the other two impossible? They seem like problems that can never be solved.”
“Then our holy struggle will continue forever as well.”
“...”
The Hospitaller knight looked pleased that their duty would never end. A madness concealed behind faith lingered in their eyes.
Knights and priests. Both burned with fanaticism in their own ways. Combining the two made a monastic knight even less sane.
* * *
During the journey, Rex explained the details of the festival.
“I thought it was simply an event for tribes to socialize, but it's more than that.”
“They trade information and spoils gathered by each tribe, and hold all kinds of competitions. Those who have fallen in love with members of other tribes also come forward to exchange blood.”
Though Dark Elves were a minority, their pride reached the heavens. Naturally, they considered mixing blood with other races taboo. They hardly ever fell in love with outsiders to begin with.
That was why this gathering gave tribes a chance to arrange marriages and mix their bloodlines.
“About the traditional outfit you gave me, it was very flashy. Surely not everyone wears something like this?”
“Of course not. That outfit is extremely expensive.”
“With all that gold leaf, I expected as much.”
It stood out so much that Eugene could not accept the gesture without concern.
If an outsider, especially a human, walked around in the finest traditional clothing, there would inevitably be people who resented it.
“Wouldn't it cause trouble at what should be a pleasant gathering if a human like me wears it?”
“Please don't worry. It is still a place where people live. We may be rough, cruel, and look down on humans, though.”
“Are you making fun of me?”
“Of course not! None of what I just said matters if you're strong. Is there any pass more pure and certain than strength?”
In addition to the Black Hand Tribe that lived as a mercenary company, each clan possessed exceptional warriors.
Whether they were involved in finance, transport, nomadism, or raiding, all of those pursuits required military strength, and many tribes engaged in two or three of them at once.
Rex was certain that not a single warrior could compare with the knight before him.
“With your strength and my guarantee, there will be no problem.”
Seeing Rex thump his chest made Eugene recall something.
“Come to think of it, I heard someone call you young master.”
“Ah, you heard that. Though I am lacking, I am the tribe's deputy chieftain.”
“I wonder if I should start speaking more formally to you, even now.”
“Ha ha ha ha!”
Rex seemed to take it as a joke, but Eugene was half serious.
The Black Hand Mercenary Company was a large organization with mages, blacksmiths, and even officials. In truth, they were no different from a powerful noble house.
Roman nobles had in fact tried several times to grant them titles and incorporate them as vassals. They had been rejected with a snort every time.
“Just as you permitted me to continue calling you simply knight, before you I will always be Rex.”
For all their arrogance and pride, Rex's people readily gave their hearts to those they acknowledged.
“Besides, we are a matriarchal society. Though I hold the position of deputy chieftain by blood, that does not necessarily mean I will be the next leader.”
The hardship of constant wandering, dangerous work, and battle made for a high male mortality rate. Men also often had to carry out operations far from the tribe for long periods.
It seemed that this was why a culture had taken root in which women managed the tribe's major and minor affairs.
“Then is the current chieftain your mother?”
“My aunt. I am learning much from her. I asked her to teach me first.”
“I see.”
Eugene did not ask further. It likely meant Rex's parents were no longer alive.
* * *
The festival grounds were packed with people. Countless tents stood across the riverside plain, which rang with laughter and chatter.
Caravans of wagons and livestock stretched endlessly beyond the horizon. They belonged to tribes that combined nomadism with trade.
“If money circulates between clans like this, that alone must foster harmony.”
“Of course. We too are children of the forest. Livestock raised by Dark Elves are plumper and tastier than human livestock.”
They all lived blended into every corner of the world. Thanks to that, they could hold an event of this scale without relying on settled peoples.
“But has anyone ever attacked a place where so many gather, out of a grudge?”
With so many tribes gathered for the festival, a successful attack could threaten the very survival of their race.
Their exceptional abilities, combined with the Dark Elves' belligerent nature, meant they could not lack for enemies.
“Who would dare? The moment someone so much as touches one cheerful tent, armed people will pour out from every direction like a swarm of bees.”
Among intelligent races, Dark Elves had the highest proportion of warriors relative to their population.
It was not as though they trained child soldiers from a young age. They simply had an instinct to take up weapons, and even noncombatants did not fear fighting when the need arose.
“That woman over there stirring soup with a ladle, and that girl cutting radishes, would both grab whatever they could and rush in if anything happened. They would kill at least two enemies before they died.”
Eugene could respect their spirit, but as someone who clearly distinguished combatants from noncombatants, he found it somewhat troubling.
Once they entered, he saw more members of other races than expected.
Sweat-soaked laborers, street vendors, men practicing tricks in ridiculous costumes, and artists rapidly drawing portraits were mostly human.
“It seems outsiders are welcomed generously during the festival.”
“That is part of it, but they also need laborers for menial work and clowns to liven the atmosphere. That sort of work is best left to hu...”
“Hmm? What was that?”
“Ah, nothing. Ha ha.”
Rex had nearly said, ‘That sort of work is best left to humans,’ before barely catching himself.
Eugene entered the area where the Black Hand Tribe was staying. As a powerful group, they had been assigned a good location.
“Welcome, Rex.”
“So this is the honored guest.”
Heavily armed guards greeted them politely.
“Sir Knight, I would like to personally attend you, but please excuse me. As a deputy chieftain, I have much to do.”
“Coming to welcome me in person must have been difficult enough. Go on.”
Rex bowed his head in gratitude to Eugene, who understood what he had left unsaid.
* * *
“Could you raise your arm a little higher?”
Two Dark Elf women surrounded Eugene as they helped him put on the traditional attire. The clothing itself was easy to wear, but certain parts, including the knot of the belt, required an expert hand.
Once he was dressed, he met with Chieftain Alesa.
“Our traditional attire suits you very well.”
She welcomed him warmly. Like Rex, she was a beautiful woman with silver hair and blue-gray skin.
Her clothing made her look more like a priestess than the leader of a powerful group. As a warrior tribe and a matriarchal society, she appeared to be responsible for knowledge, rituals, and such matters.
“Please consider yourself part of our family during the festival. Everywhere beneath our banner is your home.”
“I am looking forward to this even more than I did my knighting ceremony. I will enjoy it to the fullest.”
“Even as a joke, those are pleasant words to hear.”
Alesa smiled. She had never imagined a Roman knight would say he was more excited for this than for his knighting ceremony. As Rex had said, Eugene was an unusual man.
“Even the elders had only read about a Wendigo in records. It is a terrifying magical beast. Had you not been there, some of our warriors would have been killed or injured. On behalf of their families, I thank you.”
As befitted a chieftain, Alesa displayed none of her people's usual sense of superiority or arrogance. She maintained the expression, tone, and gestures suited to diplomacy and negotiation.
At the same time, her thoughts raced.
‘Could this knight truly be the man from the prophecy?’
Eugene was not being welcomed so warmly simply because he possessed exceptional strength, nor because he was a warrior Rex respected.
That alone would not have earned him their traditional attire.
The true reason was the final prophecy delivered by the tribe's renowned twin Witches.
-Destruction approaches our house. Not even a thousand spears will be enough to resist it.
-The only salvation lies in the cradle... However, we can only ascend as guests...
-Seek the greatest knight. The custom of hospitality shall be preserved by him.
Most prophecies were vague, fanciful words. There had never been another like this one, so clear and interconnected that it formed a lengthy message.
The Black Hand Tribe was a mercenary company that had begun as an assassin group. They could not help but remain steeped in superstition.
It was a crisis that even Alesa and the experienced elders could not dismiss lightly.
-He is a Victor Knight and a Magical Beast Slayer, a great warrior who threw a spear to destroy a ship and captured a castle alone.
After hearing Rex's report, Alesa could not imagine a knight who fit the prophecy more perfectly.
Another candidate might appear, but for now, it was clear that they needed to treat the honored guest already in their care with the utmost sincerity.
“Please consider this your home while you stay. We will attend to your companions with all our hearts as well.”
“Thank you for your consideration, Chieftain.”
Alesa gathered both hands at her waist and bowed gracefully.
Eugene did not know it, but this was the first time a Black Hand Tribe chieftain had bowed to a human. He was also the first to receive their traditional attire and an invitation to the festival.
Footnotes:
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