WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: HidingTurtle
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ The Wandering Knight and the Moving Castle ◈
Chapter 65: Prophecy (4)
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The Black Hand Mercenary Company’s unusual assets were not limited to Witches and mages. They also trained warriors with strength comparable to knights.
Their training methods had been honed through the expertise they had built up from their nomadic days, through their time as an assassination group, and into their current lives as mercenaries.
They trained with a wide range of weapons and concealed weapons, practiced hand-to-hand combat, pushed specific muscles to their limits, increased their lung capacity, improved their flexibility, and consumed elixirs.
The warriors who stepped forward as challengers had all undergone that special training. They possessed combat ability that surpassed most knights.
But they had drawn a terrible opponent.
Whoosh!
An iron bar as long as a lance shot toward the warrior at tremendous speed.
The tribal warrior’s instincts screamed a warning.
‘Don’t block that!’
Yet raising their shield was their only option.
‘What speed...’
Eugene could swing a long-handled flail one-handed as though it were a toy. Now that he gripped the iron bar with both hands and thrust, it came as fast as lightning.
No human could react in time to dodge it.
Bang!
The warrior was sent flying and sprawled across the ground. They had not let go of their weapon or shield, but could only groan, unable to rise.
‘It’d be better to crush their spirit from the start.’
This was not a spar with someone of high status. There was no need to drag things out and preserve each other’s dignity.
“...”
The warriors who had stepped forward together gritted their teeth at how easily the match had ended.
Their pride would not allow them to retreat like this. Yet ganging up on a single guest would also be dishonorable.
“Thank you for the honorable match. Even Lipton, the knight of Gord, lost hold of his shield. I respect your resolve in holding onto yours until the end.”
Eugene praised the warrior by invoking Lipton, who was far away.
“Lipton of the Iron Wall?”
“He lost his shield?”
Whether it was an honor to be compared favorably to Lipton, even the fallen warrior’s expression eased considerably.
Then Rex spoke.
“Sir Knight, how about giving the other warriors a chance as well?”
Rex intended to use this opportunity to cement Eugene’s reputation within the tribe.
“There are opponents in this world for whom sacrifice is unavoidable. It would not be dishonorable for them to challenge you one after another. It is important for the warriors who come later to watch those who fall before them and find a way through.”
Eugene wondered if they truly needed to make this any bigger, but it was hard to refuse when the deputy chieftain put it that way.
Seeing the warriors’ fighting spirit burn even brighter at Rex’s words, Eugene nodded.
‘It might be better to clear away all their resentment during the festival. Once they drink themselves blind, they’ll forget everything anyway.’
The tribespeople clapped and stomped their feet at the prospect of an even greater spectacle.
“For honor!”
The second challenger leveled a spear at Eugene. They stepped forward boldly, but there was one problem.
They could not find an opening to attack.
‘How am I supposed to get within that range...?’
They wielded similarly shaped weapons, so their stances were alike. Their presence, though, was worlds apart.
The warrior, who had considered themself the tribe’s finest spearman, felt frustrated. In reach, speed, and power, they were clearly inferior in every way.
“If you won’t come, then I will.”
Clang!
The instant the warrior blocked the first attack with their spear, it felt as though every bone in their body had been shaken.
Whoosh!
That was why they did not dare block the second attack as it swept low toward them. The warrior jumped straight up to avoid it.
That was exactly what Eugene had wanted.
As the warrior came down, Eugene’s third swing flew toward them.
‘Damn it...’
The attack was so quick that it struck their side before they could even assume a defensive posture.
“Urk!”
All the air was forced from the warrior’s lungs as they rolled across the ground, then convulsed.
The nearby spectators rushed over, pulled the warrior aside, removed their armor, and checked their injuries with impressive efficiency.
“They’re all right!”
One spectator made a circle with their fingers.
“I ask to receive instruction from you in a sword-to-sword match, sir!”
The third challenger shouted.
In melee combat, the difference in range was absolute. They seemed to have decided that things could not continue like this.
“Rex, lend me a weapon. And a shield as well.”
“Of course.”
Their reach had become equal, but that changed nothing. Eugene swung his shield and sword at once, unleashing a barrage as if he were using a dual-sword style.
Wielding two swords in harmony was difficult enough. A shield and sword, with entirely different lengths and centers of balance, were even harder to combine. Everyone was amazed by the storm of successive attacks he unleashed with them.
Clang!
The warrior, driven back without a moment to collect themself, finally dropped their shield.
Tremble.
Even while standing still, their entire arm shook as though they had a severe tremor. They could no longer hold anything.
“I lost.”
Holding their arm, they admitted defeat.
When even the third warrior fell, the last remaining challenger called for a contest of hand-to-hand combat.
They gave up on fighting with weapons and tried to force a close-quarters exchange from the beginning.
‘He’s a monster in strength and weapon skills, but his joints can’t be that tough!’
The warrior bet everything on that belief. Pretending to attack, they suddenly lowered their stance and lunged at Eugene’s lower body.
‘This is the first time I’ve seen someone use a technique like this. This tribe really is special.’
Impressed, Eugene let himself fall. He could have held his ground like a thousand-year-old tree if he wanted to, but hand-to-hand combat was one of his strengths as well.
Eugene had clearly been taken down, yet his grip and torso twisted in a strange way. In an instant, their positions were reversed.
“Aaagh!”
The warrior’s cry of pain rang through the hall.
“Lord Rex, did the knight teach you that during the last bandit suppression?”
“No. It’s my first time seeing it too.”
Rex and the rest of the tribe watched the armbar with fascinated expressions.
It was an unfamiliar technique, but they were the group with the deepest understanding of the human body in the world. They instantly recognized how vicious it was.
“It’s over. Keep struggling, and you’ll need a splint.”
“You can’t escape that by yourself.”
The warrior strained desperately to free themself, their face turning red and veins bulging on their neck.
“S-surrender! I surrender!”
The moment Eugene released their arm, Rex sprang to his feet. He emptied his cup in one gulp, then hurled it away.
“Did you all see that? If anyone still doubts my judgment, step forward! From now on, I’ll be your opponent!”
“Who could possibly doubt it? Thanks to you, we enjoyed a fine show!”
Cheers and applause erupted from every direction at Rex’s shout. Watching powerful warriors fight was their favorite accompaniment to their drinks and entertainment.
The warriors who had struggled to their feet also bowed respectfully to Eugene. Their faces were clear, without a trace of lingering resentment.
At Rex’s signal, the tribal young women filled their cups to overflowing. The atmosphere in the banquet hall, fed by the warriors’ sweat and pain, grew hot with excitement.
* * *
The morning after they ate and drank like mad.
“Sir Knight, you have a visitor.”
A maid waiting outside Eugene’s quarters informed him.
Homi had grown sick of the stench of alcohol filling the banquet hall and gone outside for a walk.
“Who is it?”
“Summoner Marbas.”
Eugene smiled faintly at the sight of Varda nodding eagerly.
“Let him in.”
Unlike last time, Marbas had bandages wrapped around several parts of his body.
“The tribe’s traditional clothing suits you very well. You may be the first human to ever wear it.”
“Thanks to that, I had to spar with some spirited warriors.”
“Did that not increase their respect and affection for you in the end? Look on the bright side.”
“I am. This is Varda, a mage of the Emerald Forest.”
Eugene gestured toward Varda with an open palm.
“I have heard much of your reputation. It is a great blessing for a young knight to have such an adviser at his side.”
“I, too, had wished to meet a summoner. Thank you for sharing your valuable knowledge with my knight.”
The two great mages spent their first exchange talking about Eugene.
“There is no need to thank me. It was for my own sake as well. Are summoners not the loneliest of all mages? Speaking with this knight was a reward in itself.”
Perhaps a dull pain flared up. Marbas paused and touched his bandaged arm.
“Chaotic times lie ahead. Becoming friends with this tribe was an excellent choice. The deputy chieftain seems completely taken with you as well.”
“He has treated me so well after only fighting together once that it is almost burdensome. I can understand it now that I know there was a prophecy, though.”
Marbas waved his hand.
“Do not misunderstand. The deputy chieftain only learned of the prophecy after you parted ways. He treated you well out of pure goodwill. You must have said and done things that moved him, beyond your martial strength.”
Varda nodded. Eugene had a talent for winning people over even with a single word.
As they continued discussing the state of the world, Eugene noticed the corner of Marbas’s eye twitching.
“Are you all right?”
“The throbbing is worse than usual today.”
“I have medicine that works well for pain. Would you like some?”
“Thank you, but I am already using good medicine. Where do you think I am staying?”
The Black Hand Tribe had once been an assassination group and was now a mercenary company. They hunted monsters as part of their daily lives and kept Witches among them. They had better medicinal ingredients and healing arts than most great nobles.
“As you know, what consumed me was no ordinary fire. It eats away at both body and soul.”
Marbas unwrapped the bandages around his arm.
“You can see it, can you not?”
“Yes.”
Beyond the burned skin, Eugene saw spiritual embers flickering. They clung to Marbas’s soul like live coals.
“It is far too great a price for one mistake.”
“Thank you for understanding. Whenever it has the chance, it becomes a fire serpent and flicks its black tongue from beneath my skin.”
“Is there no way to deal with it?”
Eugene looked to Varda, but she shook her head. This was not a mystery a forest mage could handle.
“I cannot even see the embers tormenting him. My magic and medicine can only heal the body. The fire burning from within him...”
Varda trailed off regretfully.
“Does the Church of the Absolute have no solution? They would be the most suited to healing something like this.”
“I once spent a great deal of money on holy water blessed by a bishop. It only improved the visible symptoms, though. The root of the problem remained.”
Marbas stroked his burn-scarred skin.
The embers of Hell tormenting Marbas’s soul seemed, for some reason, as insignificant to Eugene as a candle flame before a storm.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Eugene drummed his index finger on the table.
Something tickled at his mind. A thought seemed on the verge of surfacing, urging him onward.
“Ah!”
After a while, his tapping finger stopped.
“Perhaps.”
“Hmm?”
“Perhaps I may be able to help.”
Eugene ordered the maid outside to bring a large jar filled with water.
“Varda, would you please step out for a moment?”
She rose without asking a question. Marbas likewise asked nothing.
Both mages instinctively understood that Eugene was about to challenge a new mystery. This was an insight that could not be interrupted.
Varda, especially, knew Eugene possessed unprecedented authority when it came to wielding the powers of the Otherworld.
“May fortune be with you.”
Shortly after Varda left, the maid returned carrying a jar full of water. Eugene had expected a male servant to bring it because it was heavy, but she was a woman of the Black Hand Tribe after all.
“You have worked hard.”
“It was nothing. Please call for me if you need anything else.”
Once the maid bowed politely and withdrew, Eugene dipped his hand into the clean water and swirled it around.
“Will you tell me what you intend to do now?”
Marbas finally asked, unable to contain his curiosity.
“I am going to try putting out an unquenchable fire.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I cannot explain it either. I am only listening to and following what my instincts whisper to me.”
Eugene closed his eyes and placed his palm over the surface of the water.
Then he recalled the baptism he had experienced at a monastery of the Church of the Absolute in the past. The sacred rite that all the village children, including himself, received as a rite of passage.
* * *
“I cast you out from his soul.”
As the quiet prayer began, Marbas’s eyes widened.
“Filthy spirit. Tenacious flame and pain. Under my guidance, be uprooted from this creature and depart.”
Mystery of tremendous intensity filled the water in the jar as Eugene prayed and moved his hand through it.
It was similar to the miracles performed by bishops that Marbas had seen several times before, yet fundamentally different in origin.
“I will permit no further punishment. He has suffered enough. Therefore...”
As the prayer continued, Marbas felt the heat within his body subside. Simply being near Eugene’s blessing suppressed the energy of Hell that had been raging inside him.
Eugene scooped up a ladleful of the water he had purified through baptism.
Splash.
Powerful cleansing energy emanated from the rippling water.
It was neither holy energy containing a god’s will nor evil energy containing an evil god’s will.
It was simply pure power.
A cleansing power specialized solely in washing away spiritual impurities, regardless of good or evil.
“Come before me.”
At that moment, Marbas felt his flesh and years peel away. It was as though only his soul remained, standing before Eugene.
The bandages came undone, exposing skin marred by burns. Malicious heat flickered through old scars that had long since healed, seeking to peer out into the world.
The purified water Eugene scattered poured over his body.
Trickle.
The water ran down his skin, but its coolness passed through his flesh and soaked into his soul.
Sizzle!
The smell of sulfur rose from Marbas’s body, and smoke rose where the water touched.
“Oh...”
Tears began to gather at the corners of Marbas’s wrinkled eyes.
Salvation.
It was the only sensation he felt.
The remnants of Hell that had gnawed at him for thirty years were being driven out before Eugene’s baptism.
Footnotes:
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