WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: HidingTurtle
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◈ The Wandering Knight and the Moving Castle ◈
Chapter 78: Descent (2)
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Tournament.
It was the greatest event no festival of this era could do without. A sport of violence and glory enjoyed by everyone, regardless of status.
“Each country does things very differently.”
Eugene found Varda’s explanations of tournament customs across the various nations quite interesting.
In the northern and central regions of Roman, which were relatively safe from foreign invasion, refined jousts were the main event.
The western, southern, and eastern regions, which bordered other nations, held group battles as a form of wartime training.
Gord had weaker horsemanship, and its spectators preferred hand-to-hand combat between knights. As a result, knights dismounted and fought in arenas similar to a colosseum.
“I like Gord’s style.”
“As expected, you truly are unusual. Knights from other countries look down on it.”
“Luck has less influence. It’s a contest of pure skill between knights.”
The proud Barsians dismissed the martial competitions of other countries as children’s games, and they had good reason to do so.
“They use real swords?”
“They say the smell of blood at a tournament is the finest delicacy.”
Barsians could tolerate an arena without wine, but not one without bloodshed.
“If knights start dying in droves, wouldn’t that be a national loss?”
“Surprisingly, there aren’t that many deaths. Perhaps twenty percent more than in other countries?”
“They can control themselves that well while using real swords?”
“Barsian tournaments have referees.”
“Oh!”
Eugene laughed at a culture where barbarism and civilization coexisted.
“If someone ignores a referee’s order to stop during a match, they are punished for quasi-treason. Even hot-blooded knights know when to restrain themselves.”
It was a culture that clearly reflected careful thought, giving people the joy of bloodshed without weakening the nation’s strength.
“I thought you would definitely enter, so this is quite surprising.”
Everyone, Marbas included, was surprised that Eugene had not signed up for the tournament.
“I’m not interested.”
“Doesn’t the thought of a tournament make a knight’s blood boil?”
Prize money, passionate cheers from the spectators, honor, and word of mouth among the nobility.
More than slaying monsters or distinguishing oneself in war, tournaments were directly tied to a knight’s rise in status.
Eugene had passed the stage where he needed a tournament to get ahead, but weren’t knights creatures who endlessly chased fame and glory?
“I don’t really feel like jousting.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s dangerous.”
“Are you joking?”
“I’m serious.”
Marbas looked dumbfounded. The Eugene he had seen until now had always seemed completely fearless.
When he saved Baron Yones, he had support from mounted archers, but he had still charged alone into countless pirates.
Compared to smashing a rampaging golem that could kill with a glancing blow, or pinning a death knight down and beating it to death, a joust almost seemed safe.
“To be exact, I don’t like how much luck matters beyond skill and strength. I also don’t like the weapon.”
Jousts used wooden lances designed to break easily. They made the matches more spectacular, helped with scoring, softened the impact, and improved the riders’ safety.
Still, if one was unlucky, broken fragments could fly into a helmet and leave someone blind in one eye. Some had died after a shard pierced a vulnerable spot their armor did not properly protect, such as the neck or armpit.
“If the prize money were incredible, it might be different, but it isn’t. If I ever go somewhere that holds a group battle tournament, I’ll enter then.”
“I feel as though I’ve learned more about you today.”
“Master Gopri said something similar once.”
Marbas laughed at the young knight’s easygoing reply.
“Yes. That is the attitude one needs to live a long life. To be honest, watching you fight had made me uneasy, but I feel a little relieved now.”
Even someone with an immensely powerful body and soul could die from a single mistake. It was better to have that kind of cautious side than to rely on courage alone.
“There’s another advantage to not competing in the tournament. It makes meeting people easier, doesn’t it?”
At the banquet, Eugene greeted many knights and exchanged drinks with them.
Unlike competing knights, who had to remain wary of potential rivals, spectators could socialize without concern.
“This tournament offers a better chance to get ahead than the previous ones. The competition is bound to be fierce.”
Many knights had died in the great battle between the Noble Faction and the Imperial Faction. Even skilled and famous ones had not been spared.
That meant the odds of winning were higher than before. Even those who did not win could become vassals to noble lords if they showed enough skill.
Lords seeking to fill empty positions and knights seeking to occupy them were all focused on this tournament.
* * *
The enormous arena was packed with people. Along with nobles and distinguished guests in the expensive seats, a great many commoners had gathered as well.
Pleasant entertainment eased the public’s discontent, and the cheers of a crowd energized knights. In every region, it was tradition to be generous toward commoners during tournaments.
The murmur from all around fell silent when Duke Ismar, standing on the platform, raised a hand.
“I thank all those who have gathered here today to bless this tournament.”
People bowed their heads or placed hands over their chests at the duke’s words.
“Though we have driven back the immediate threat, the civil war is not yet over. At times like this, we must unite more closely and train all the harder.”
He sounded completely different from when he spoke with Eugene. Eugene could not understand how such a thin body produced a voice that rang through the entire arena.
“I hope this tournament will give new knights a chance to make their names known. Gentlemen! I wish you all the best in battle!”
When the duke declared the jousts open, thunderous cheers erupted.
Neigh!
Two knights mounted on horses draped in colorful trappings glared at each other.
Even though they should have been fully focused on their opponent, their eyes kept drifting toward the spectators visible through the slits of their helmets.
Duke Ismar, countless lords and noblewomen, and more commoners than they could count were all focused entirely on them.
Would they ever again receive so many noble gazes and such cheers from the people?
‘I will win!’
‘I trained for this day alone!’
The blood flowing through their veins boiled as if it were about to burst.
Flap! Flap!
At the sound of trumpets, men holding flags on the platform waved them with all their might.
“Glory to the duke!”
“For the north!”
The two knights leveled their lances and charged at each other.
“Waaaaah!”
The crowd’s cheers reached their peak at the start of the match, but the knights could not hear them. The moment their horses began to run, their eardrums closed off, isolating them from the world.
Thump, thump!
Their own heartbeats, the lance handles tucked beneath their armpits, and the lance tips swaying as they aimed at their opponent.
Those were the only three things the knights could perceive. Extreme concentration erased everything else around them.
Crack!
Crunch!
The blunted lances struck their opponents at the same time and shattered.
“Wahahahaha!”
“That’s it! Exactly!”
At the splendid sight, the spectators went wild and stomped their feet.
The knight on the left had been struck on the shield, but the knight on the right was hit on the helmet and immediately fell from the horse.
Fortunately, the knight was not dead and was helped out of the arena with difficulty by a Squire and servants.
“Sir! Are you all right?”
“Ughhh.”
Even after removing the helmet, the knight looked dazed, perhaps suffering from a concussion.
Thudududud.
Crash!
One knight took a lance to the chest and ended up sprawled across the horse’s back. The knight had not fallen, but appeared half-unconscious.
The horse continued walking as its owner’s foot, caught in the stirrup, kept striking its side. It only stopped before the arena wall.
“Hahaha!”
“Sir knight! Wake up already! Haven’t you sobered up from the wine you drank at the banquet?”
The somewhat comical sight made common spectators throw out jeers they would normally never dare voice.
That knight was a poor, independent knight who traveled alone, so servants sent by the organizers soon came to take the knight away.
“Cough! Cough!”
The knight, who had barely regained consciousness, coughed repeatedly. At one point, the knight stopped to vomit, and the large amount of red blood mixed in made the injury seem severe.
“That one will waste away and die.”
Haind, guarding Eugene from behind, spoke with a sorrowful expression.
From what he had learned at The Knight’s House, those were the symptoms of severe internal organ damage.
In this era, with its poor medical system and especially inadequate treatment for internal injuries, it was practically a death sentence.
“Sir Hols, you were amazing!”
“Please look this way!”
While the defeated knight left in misery, fearing certain death, the victor received every word of praise. The winner took all!
‘It was a good thing I didn’t enter.’
Eugene resolved never to joust in the future.
They rode straight at each other along fixed lanes with lances leveled, which meant they had no choice but to leave themselves open to their opponent’s attack. Regardless of skill, if luck was not on one’s side, disaster was inevitable.
To Eugene, the trial by combat with real swords in Bonyard City had felt far safer.
* * *
Tournaments were entertainment enjoyed wholeheartedly by everyone in this era, but not everyone who came had pure intentions.
Many arrived with dishonest plans, such as tricking the gathered crowds or targeting them for pickpocketing.
-By any means necessary, ruin the victory festival.
Among them were those who had infiltrated under the Emperor’s secret orders.
“Do we truly have to carry this out?”
“It is His Majesty’s command.”
“But this is too dishonorable.”
The Imperial Faction in the north had been wiped out, and the pirates of the Inland Sea had also been defeated. There was nothing the Emperor could achieve through force. All that remained was terrorism through magic.
Mages and knights were both loyal servants, but they accepted orders in opposite ways.
“Then why didn’t you question His Majesty in the capital? You kept your mouth shut then, but now you followed us all the way here just to tuck your tail?”
“...”
“I was joking. Relax.”
He told them to relax, but Simon the mage was the one glaring at them like a block of ice.
Under Simon’s gaze, even knights who had experienced many real battles found themselves unable to speak. It felt as though an unknown force, something that steel could neither cut nor block, had hold of their lifelines.
“If we let those rebel bastards enjoy their festival, won’t His Majesty’s authority in the north fall to the ground?”
“That is true, but...”
The Emperor’s authority had already fallen as far as it could, but the tournament’s success and the promotion of promising new knights through it would make it a symbolic event, one that drove in the final nail.
The Emperor wanted to stop it at all costs. And, while he was at it, embarrass Duke Ismar.
“Still, I cannot accept so many innocent nobles dying...”
“Hahaha!”
Simon laughed once he understood what the knights were worried about.
“If I could use magic that powerful, I would have used it in the war. Why would I employ it for this sort of underhanded scheme? At most, I can foul the weather enough to bring the festival to a halt.”
“Ah, is that all?”
The knights looked much more at ease.
They had imagined evil magic that would suddenly create a poisonous cloud in the arena and kill people indiscriminately.
‘Idiots who know nothing except how to swing a sword.’
Simon was dumbfounded. If that were possible, would mages not have ruled the world long ago?
It was laughable that they allowed themselves to be frightened by something they could not have imagined if they possessed even basic common sense about magic.
Of course, the more the knights exaggerated magic and regarded it with awe, the easier Simon’s work became, so he did not bother correcting them.
Simon took a magic artifact containing sealed ancient magic from his robe. It was loot acquired while searching ruins under the Emperor’s orders.
-It is not magic powerful enough to make a difference on the battlefield. Nor will it aid His Majesty’s cherished wish.
That was what a summoner who served the Emperor in the capital had said after examining it and handing it over.
“Damn it.”
Simon sighed at his situation.
The budget to hire mages, knights, and spies, as well as gather intelligence, all those resources should have been devoted entirely to the war against the Noble Faction.
-Your Majesty. We cannot waste manpower and resources on a mirage like the Wandering Castle. You must focus on the war itself...
-Be quiet! I will hear no more. Carry out the orders I have given you properly!
He had offered sincere advice, been rebuked for it, and now had to prove his loyalty through a terrorist mission.
At least being able to personally experience the mysterious magic of the Ancient Kingdom was a small comfort.
“Will using that call down rain clouds or something?”
“It is different. It is magic that temporarily connects the present world with a shallow layer of the Otherworld.”
“?”
“Just as water flows from high ground to low ground, and wind blows from high pressure to low pressure.”
“??”
“When worlds with different spiritual pressure connect, a spiritual storm will pour into the present world. It should be enough to ruin the matches.”
“???”
Simon smiled with satisfaction at the knights’ equally stupid expressions.
Seeing their foolish faces filled him with a sense of superiority and eased some of his stress.
“Let’s finish this quickly and return.”
Simon released the sealed ancient magic.
It was an extremely simple mission.
Infiltrate the arena and activate the magic artifact. Then wait for the present world and the shallow Otherworld to draw closer, causing a weather disaster.
Yet sometimes, very rarely, absurd coincidences overlapped and produced an unforeseen anomaly.
People called such things turning points in history.
The variable Simon had not considered was Eugene, who was watching from the arena.
“...?”
For an instant, he felt as if someone were watching him from the sky. It was like an existence unimaginably far away was observing this place through a telescope.
“What is it?”
“No. I think it was just my imagination.”
Eugene shook his head at Varda’s question. The gaze he had felt from beyond the sky quickly disappeared.
Strictly speaking, it had not disappeared but moved elsewhere, though Eugene had no way of knowing that.
Having spotted the lighthouse it had yearned for so desperately, the gaze beyond the sky now scanned the surroundings for its next target, the vast plains.
“Good. It is working properly.”
Simon smiled with satisfaction.
The task the Emperor had ordered, ruining Duke Ismar’s tournament, would surely succeed.
It would only happen in a form completely different from what the Emperor desired.
Footnotes:
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