WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: HidingTurtle
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◈ The Wandering Knight and the Moving Castle ◈
Chapter 76: Regrouping
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The monastery had several spare doors in storage. Manufacturing techniques had improved since the old days, making them far sturdier than before.
Marbas imbued one of them with the strongest sealing spell he knew.
-I never should've done that.
The emotion contained within that magic was regret, the strongest and most enduring emotion felt by humans, who were as fickle as reeds. Perhaps that was why it made such a fitting catalyst for a seal.
The magic a great summoner had refined from thirty years of regret perfectly severed the Otherworld from the present world.
“It worked. I can't sense any evil energy at all.”
“It will also prevent resentments outside from being drawn inward. Nothing like this should happen again.”
“As expected, you're incredible!”
The priests marveled at Marbas's skill.
Watching them, Eugene ordered his troops to stand down.
“Good work. Now take your share.”
It was time for them to be rewarded for the sweat they had shed and the blood on their hands.
His subordinates helped the priests, who were busy with the purification work, carry the corpses. They also collected rings from fingers, necklaces from necks, and loot tucked away in the bodies' clothes.
Everyone else relaxed, but Eugene alone kept a wary eye on his surroundings.
“You look as though something is troubling you.”
“I feel like we outsiders may have seen something we weren't supposed to.”
After thinking for a moment, Varda realized Eugene was wary of the priests.
“Because of the expeditionary force's miserable end?”
“Yes. The truth behind an expedition recorded as a noble sacrifice was undead corruption. Wouldn't the Church want to hide that at all costs?”
It was the kind of extremism Eugene expected from medieval religious institutions, shaped by the oppressive things he had seen while growing up in a monastery of the Church of the Absolute.
That prejudice kept him from lowering his guard. What if?
“You needn't worry about that. No matter how shameful it is, there were far too many witnesses.”
“I think I'm worrying for nothing as well.”
“Their long history has plenty of uglier secrets they'd rather hide. This is nothing by comparison.”
“That's a relief.”
Varda shook her head.
He was a knight who fought without fear in battle, yet was unusually prone to fretting over minor concerns when there was no fighting.
Still, he was a hundred times better than the usual knights who lost their heads boasting about their achievements without thinking.
* * *
Rasta Monastery was more austere than most monasteries.
It was run in isolation and had little outside activity, while the priests' combat training and stockpiles of silver goods cost a great deal.
There was no victory feast like the one Baron Est had held. A prayer of thanks and the priests' modest hospitality were all they could offer.
“This place feels like it combines the worst parts of a monastery and a barracks.”
Rex turned a piece of rye bread over in his hands.
It was so hard and flat that he seemed to be barely holding back the urge to throw it like a discus.
It was only because the abbot had personally blessed the food, perhaps feeling sorry for the terrible fare, that Rex barely restrained himself.
“Bear with it. They said their supplies were cut off by the sudden attack, and after defending the monastery, only preserved food remained.”
“When will we return? I miss Northfork's plentiful food.”
“As soon as things outside are settled.”
Eugene and his men helped repair and clean the monastery, which had been damaged in battle.
“Isn't it excessive to handle the aftermath after we've already done enough?”
“It pays to make someone thoroughly indebted to you.”
Eugene tore the bread on Homi's plate into manageable pieces. A knife could barely cut it, but it came apart beneath his fingers like rotten leaves.
Homi gave a small bow of thanks, then brought the plate to her small, pert nose. It was her habit to smell food before eating it.
Eugene found it cute, like watching a small wild animal, though Varda was trying to correct the habit because she thought it looked uncultured.
“This matter will be reported to Duke Ismar, as well as the Hospitaller Order and the Church of the Absolute.”
“Of course it will.”
“If we compare that report to a punch, clearing out the pirates is a hard blow to the cheek first.”
Smack!
Eugene drove his fist into his palm.
“Then another blow for wiping out the undead, and one more for making the sealing door. That last one is thanks to Marbas, though.”
Marbas had declared, “Let them count it as your achievement.” He owed Eugene, but he was also delighted by the artifact extracted from the death knight.
It was a Hell jewel shaped like a relic bead, said to be among a summoner's greatest treasures.
“Anyone would be dazed after taking three punches in a row. What happens if they take a fourth?”
“The fourth is handling the aftermath?”
“That's right. Compared to the first three, it's a light punch. We only did some labor. But it feels different after someone's already been hit hard several times.”
“Even if we do the same work, they'll probably appreciate it far more than usual.”
Rex nodded with interest.
Most knights didn't think that far when completing a commission. If they had earned great achievements, they wanted to be treated accordingly, and that was only their due.
“Is it edible after soaking it in soup?”
Rex shoved the bread that had been sitting in his soup into his mouth as they spoke.
“It's still awful.”
“Then give it to me.”
A mercenary captain tried to take the bread.
“Hey! Hands off! When else will you get to eat bread blessed by an abbot?”
The mercenaries' faith rose and fell with the situation.
When it was time to be abstinent, it became thin as a crescent moon. Yet before a chance to receive a blessing, it shone as brightly as a full moon.
Bread personally blessed by the abbot. Everyone eagerly tore into it, saying it would wash away their sins and be good for their souls.
* * *
Eugene also made sure to assess the situation nearby. There was no point in cleaning everything up if more pirates came flooding in afterward.
“It really is clear.”
The scouts scattered in every direction also asked travelers and merchants they encountered. Every answer was the same.
They hadn't seen a single pirate.
“Sir, we've killed nearly five hundred pirates so far.”
Haind unfolded the small map issued to officers before Eugene. He traced the area between Baron Est's fief and Rasta Monastery with his index finger.
“The areas where our army has operated in the north are only a fraction of the region. If there were five hundred in this narrow stretch alone, it's safe to say the pirates around here have been wiped out.”
“Rather, it's strange that so many had gathered here. You can consider it truly safe now.”
Marbas added to Haind's assessment.
He had poured too much strength into making the sealing door and was still weak.
The monastery was steeped in divine power and faith. It was a terrible place for a summoner who drew power from the Otherworld to recover, and he looked eager to leave.
Eugene nodded.
“Let's end the journey here. We'll return to Northfork.”
A commander needed to know when to withdraw. They had gained far more wealth and honor than they had imagined when setting out, and there would be little left nearby worth getting greedy over.
The army left the monastery amid grand farewells.
“The remains of the old expeditionary force have been properly collected and given funeral rites. May their suffering souls find rest.”
Andrew decided to remain at the monastery a little longer to compose himself.
“No amount of gratitude could repay the kindness you have shown our monastery, Sir.”
The abbot wrote a detailed account of the relief force's accomplishments and sent a homing pigeon to Duke Ismar.
It might prove an even greater achievement than the spoils they had taken from the pirates. Eugene had made a proper impression on the ruler of the north.
* * *
Eugene returned by a different route from the one they had taken from Baron Est's fief to Rasta Monastery.
Marbas was not the only one among them who needed to recover his strength.
Whenever they made camp beside the forest in the early evening, Varda took a walk among the trees and absorbed nature's vitality.
“Do the soldiers have any complaints? I'm sorry they're taking a detour because of me. It must be colder here too.”
Winter, defeated by spring, was making its final stand in the forest.
“Not at all. Anyone who voiced a complaint would be trampled to pulp by the enraged mercenaries.”
“Hoho. You're exaggerating.”
“I'm not.”
The moss-covered, slippery paths became carpeted in grass, trees moved their branches aside, and bushes withered on their own to clear the way.
A forest fairy at the head of the group, working miracles as her brilliant golden hair fluttered in the wind.
To the mercenaries, that sight was more than simply, Ah, our mage is capable.
“We couldn't have wiped them out so completely without Lady Varda.”
Quite a few mercenaries wore three or four necklaces each. Seeing that put Varda more at ease.
“You don't need to accompany me. I'm only walking, so it must be boring.”
“It's not boring at all. We need to prepare for any danger.”
“The army is right nearby, so there's no need to worry. Even if an unexpected danger appears, nothing in the forest can catch an elf.”
Varda clenched her fists and bounced in place. It was a new sight, seeing the usually dignified noblewoman act that way.
“That's under normal circumstances. You're barefoot right now. Can you still run at your usual speed without shoes?”
“...”
Especially because she was barefoot, she looked all the more adorable.
To restore forest magic quickly, it wasn't enough to simply walk and breathe.
The soil, the grass seeds sleeping beneath it, the sprouts rising from the ground, the traces left by mountain animals over thousands of years, and the roots that communicated with the earth's energy.
The most effective method was to press one's skin against all of them and absorb the spiritual energy they carried.
Still, she couldn't strip naked and roll around on the ground, so she had settled on walking barefoot.
It was a traditional secret method commonly used by forest mages and druids.
“Walk carefully. Don't let a thorn get stuck in your foot.”
“Any elf who injured her foot while walking through the forest would be disqualified as an elf.”
“Aren't your feet cold?”
“Not at all.”
Varda took a deep breath and let it out with a whoosh.
“It's like breathing. I drink in the forest's energy through my feet. The cozy warmth within that vitality enfolds me more comfortably than any pair of fur-lined shoes.”
Her clean insteps were suffused with the reddish warmth of life. They were nothing like feet gone blue from the winter cold.
Babble, babble.
“Are you all right here?”
“Um.”
She stopped at the edge of a winter stream flowing across the ground.
“So this is something you can't overcome.”
“Water belongs to a separate domain of mystery from the forest.”
Her long ears twitched with discomfort.
“Leave this to me.”
“What are... Ah!”
Eugene suddenly slipped one arm beneath the back of Varda's knees and the other around her waist, lifting her in a princess carry.
“W-wait.”
Before the flustered Varda could say anything, he leaped across the patch of cold flowing water.
The elf girl clasped her hands to her chest and looked as though she wanted to say something, then closed her mouth. Her long ears trembled, betraying her feelings.
* * *
“You're back.”
The mercenaries welcomed them when they returned to camp. Meat was roasting over the fire, fat sizzling as it dripped down.
A short distance away, a tribal warrior stabbed a bloodletting dagger into the heart of a beast they had just hunted.
Gush!
Blood poured out like a fountain, and the mercenaries looked uneasy.
“Aren't they afraid of the curse?”
The mercenaries were too afraid of the wicked magical dagger to touch it, but the tribal warrior didn't care. They were used to even stranger shamanic arts.
“Move your leg farther back and pull in your shoulder.”
Nod, nod.
In an open space beside the camp, Homi was learning mounted archery from a tribal warrior with a spare bow.
“As expected of a former hunter, her posture with a bow is already sound.”
Even to Eugene, Homi looked remarkably steady as she guided her horse and fired arrows.
“Will it work in actual combat?”
“Yes. She rides well, and her instincts are excellent. Once she gains more experience, she'll be more than capable.”
Eugene's army had begun operating mainly as cavalry. Homi, who had not received a proper knight's education, needed to change her primary weapon to a bow.
Her sharp instincts, eyesight, and sense of smell were better suited to supporting Eugene with a ranged weapon as well.
More importantly, Homi had an enormous advantage when it came to becoming a mounted archer.
“I never imagined she could use her tail like that.”
The tribal warrior stroked their chin in amazement.
Homi used her thick tail to brace against the horse's body and keep her balance.
“That's a skill only a snow leopard beastkin can use.”
“It's certainly very long and thick.”
Homi's tail was one and a half times longer than other beastkin tails and more than twice as thick. Naturally, its muscle mass was beyond comparison.
“She was incredibly popular back when we lived in the countryside. She'd arm-wrestle the village children with that tail, and they all loved it. In winter, she even used it as a scarf for the children who clung to her.”
The tribal warrior smiled at the image.
Having quickly gotten the hang of it, Homi freely used her tail while practicing mounted archery.
When she turned sideways to fire, she hooked her tail around the opposite side to hold herself in place.
“Good heavens!”
When she even began pulling arrows from her quiver with her tail, the two onlookers stared in disbelief.
“Can other beastkin do that too?”
“No. Their tails are weak. They're about as strong as a little finger, so they can't grip or pull anything while mounted.”
To be honest, there was some flattery involved because Homi was Eugene's Squire.
Still, this remarkable girl was an evolving fighter. Teach her one thing, and she understood two, revealing new possibilities.
Homi returned after riding Sandy around, holding an arrow in her tail and waving it about. She was showing off a trick only she could do.
Ping!
She suddenly twisted at the waist and fired at a tree behind her.
Ping!
She immediately nocked the arrow in her tail and fired a second shot in rapid succession.
“That's impressive.”
“Hmph!”
“Next time we make camp, let's go hunting together. The best way to learn is to use it in the field.”
Homi nodded with a bright smile.
Her lord's growing fame and the strength of the army he led were things she had always wanted.
Yet she regretted that it meant there were fewer ways for her to support him in battle.
The hope that she could fight beside her lord in the battles to come was as sweet as rain after a drought.
Footnotes:
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