WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: HidingTurtle

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◈ The Wandering Knight and the Moving Castle ◈

Chapter 8: The One Who Understands Three Worlds (8)

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Marcus belonged to the fringes of Barsia's noble society.

At the very top stood the First Clans. Below them came the houses that, while not their equals, still preserved noble blood.

These haughty vampires held most of the power in Barsian society.

Beneath them stood the many mixed-bloods known as Dhampirs. They were the most numerous, but were treated as little more than commoners.

The Dhampirs called themselves nobles of the night as well, but pure-blooded vampires often mocked them for it.

Marcus was the most famous knight and lord among the Dhampirs. He had challenged six pure-blooded knights who insulted him as a half-blood, and won every duel.

Even those who hated him were intimidated by his striking looks. He commanded both pure-bloods and mixed-bloods, yet united them like brothers.

He was an undeniable rising power of the night. Naturally, that meant he had many political enemies to contend with.

Marcus had neither the status nor the circumstances to rush to a backwater village in the southwestern reaches of the continent at midnight, but he had no choice.

“Milady will be safe.”

His only younger sister, Maria, had been captured. Worse, she had fallen into the hands of those vicious bastards from the Church of the Absolute.

“They say nothing has happened since the carriage entered the monastery.”

“If we strike now, we can definitely save her.”

Marcus nodded at his subordinates' reassurances.

His political enemies had plotted to seize his sister while he was away.

For Dhampirs to rise through Barsia's rigid noble society, both siblings had to struggle with everything they had.

Maria had been sent far away for secret negotiations she could not easily refuse. Then all word from her had vanished.

“She let her guard down because this was the frontier.”

She was capable, but still inexperienced.

“Even so, it's strange. She had hired mercenaries, and the Church of the Absolute shouldn't be in any position to throw its weight around like this.”

“Perhaps the mercenaries were bribed. Or an enemy house kidnapped her and handed her to the church. There'd be no end to the possibilities.”

Marcus decided not to dwell on what had already happened. Saving Maria came first. Once they rescued her, they could learn the whole story.

“If they so much as touched a hair on milady's head, I won't forgive them. I'll burn not just the monastery, but this entire village!”

“Calm yourself.”

Marcus restrained the pale knight raging beside him.

His name was Aaron. He was one of the six vampires who had lost after insulting Marcus and receiving his challenge to a duel.

While the others had withdrawn, grinding their teeth, Aaron had accepted his defeat graciously and apologized for his wrongdoing.

Since then, he had become Marcus's fervent follower, pursuing the same dream at his side. They were the only knights in this group.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I don't want to harm the weak.”

Aaron swallowed the urge to protest.

In Aaron's eyes, Marcus was a man who had received the most unjust treatment despite his abilities. Perhaps because of that, Marcus hated oppressing the innocent.

He could see through the grievances everyone carried and offer comfort. That might have been the secret behind the loyalty he inspired.

“It is rather large for such a backwater.”

“Still, it doesn't even have a lord or a town guard.”

“That only means it's far from the war. It wouldn't be much use to anyone even if they took it.”

The subordinates spoke with confidence.

It was night, but they all had eyes that could see through the darkness.

Slanted stakes had been planted around the outskirts of the village. They were meant to drive away beasts and monsters rather than a human army.

The village was large, and there were many monks, so no ordinary bandit gang would dare cause trouble here.

“Remember, we haven't come to plunder. A fight may be unavoidable, but we haven't come to indulge our thirst for blood either.”

As always, Marcus's role was to temper his subordinates' fighting spirit.

“We know.”

“Nothing will tarnish our lord's honor.”

When Marcus nodded, everyone put on their helmets.

Their fighting spirit burned fiercely, but they raised no battle cry. More than a dozen riders swept through the village entrance as though gliding through the darkness.

* * *

Eugene had successfully entered the Sealing Vault and was searching through it.

It was night, and with no lights, the place was pitch-dark. But that posed no problem for someone who had sharpened all five senses.

‘It should've been around here.’

He had entered once in the past, so he quickly found where the belongings were kept.

There was a book describing a Witch's mysteries and his mother's diary. He took the two most important books.

For some reason, both were written in Elven script, so he could not read them. Eugene had learned the continental common script and even the script of the Ancient Kingdom.

Besides the books, there was a strangely crooked staff, a talisman bearing ritualistic symbols, and a black crystal ball.

There was no need to take those three. They held neither magical power nor memories of his mother.

The staff was something she had used because of an injured knee during her wandering days. The talisman's magic had run out. The crystal ball was a placebo used to humor villagers who wanted prophecies.

‘They're needlessly bulky, and their disappearance would be noticed right away.’

Eugene turned away without regret.

As he left the Sealing Vault, his heart began to pound. It was not tension, but excitement born of anticipation for the future.

Kingdom's End was a peaceful village he had grown attached to, but it was also a stagnant place. To be honest, it could not cool his boiling blood.

There was only one thing he regretted: he had no horse to ride.

Gopri had passed down everything to Eugene: a family's affection, the written word, a knight's combat skills, a noble's way of speaking, even armor.

But he would not give up his horse.

-Don't look at him with such greedy eyes. This one I'm not giving you.

Before leaving the village, Gopri had grumbled at him.

-I wasn't looking greedily.

Feeling oddly guilty, Eugene looked away.

-Aren't you at the age when your stamina is declining? Of course you need a horse for such a long journey.

-My stamina is still no worse than a young man's. Besides, if I have this fellow with me in my final years, this old man won't wither from loneliness.

-You're making me sound like a terrible person.

-Can you feel the pain of having a conscience? You won't have much cause to feel it from now on, so you'd better feel some now.

Gopri had laughed heartily. Yet Eugene could sense the sorrow of parting beneath that laughter.

Thinking of his mentor who had left made his chest ache for no reason.

“This smell really is awful.”

The stench cut short his recollection. He had already passed through the corridor and returned to the prison.

Snore...

Purr...

The three women in the cell were still asleep.

The noble girl even snored with a satisfied smile. Wherever her usual dignified posture had gone, she was sprawled flat on her back.

Eugene chuckled, then closed his eyes and focused on his hearing. He planned to slip out when there were no priests outside.

One sense after another faded away, until the foul stench tormenting his nose disappeared. With all his focus gathered in his hearing, Eugene's world expanded beyond the walls.

It was one of Gopri's great teachings.

* * *

“Get out of the way if you don't want to die!”

The well-armed cavalry broke through the entrance in an instant and charged toward the center of the village.

The peaceful rural night was immediately steeped in deadly tension.

The village watch, patrolling with torches, stepped aside so quickly that “Welcome!” would have suited them better. None of their usual swagger or displays of strength remained.

“What are those people?”

“Are bandits attacking us, dear?”

“Mom, those people's eyes are glowing.”

Frightened eyes peered at the intruders through the windows.

A knight wearing the finest armor among the riders emerged and lifted his visor.

“We haven't come to harm you. Close your windows, and we won't look at you either. Return to your beds and close your eyes. Then tomorrow morning, you'll wake among your families as you always have. I give you my word on my honor.”

Marcus's words carried an undeniable force.

Thud! Thud! Wooden shutters slammed closed all around them.

“I'll say it again. We haven't come to wage war. We've come for a rescue.”

“Yes!”

Their replies were full of confidence.

“But don't hesitate to attack. Value a single scratch on yourselves more than the lives of a hundred of those bastards from the Church of the Absolute.”

“Yes!!!”

Their second answer rang out louder. Respect had joined their confidence.

Two armed priests stood guard at the monastery entrance, spears in hand.

“You there! Stop!”

“You dare ride horses to a holy monastery in the middle of the night! Do you not fear God's wrath?!”

Hearing the hoofbeats, the armed priests leveled their spears.

It varied by order, but monks usually stood night watch in the form of all-night prayer, carrying quarterstaffs. In cities with good security, even that was often unnecessary because professional guards were stationed there.

It was rare for a place like the Church of the Absolute to stand guard like an army with bladed weapons. One priest had even drawn a bow.

Ting!

An arrow flew toward them, but bounced off the leading rider's shield.

“There are too many of them!”

The priest's expression changed once they realized that the figures revealed by torchlight were a better-equipped cavalry force than expected.

“Alarm!”

“We're under attack!”

A whistle sounded, and the sleeping monastery began to awaken.

“Argh!”

By then, the priest who had fired the arrow had been struck in the leg by a cavalry crossbow bolt. A flying lasso wrapped around the priest's neck and dragged them away.

Marcus cut through the other priest's spear shaft with a swing of his sword, and a soldier's charging horse sent the priest flying.

Marcus leaped from his horse and immediately grabbed the fallen priest by the throat.

“Where are the Dhampir women you captured?”

At the same time, he drove a dagger into the priest's thigh.

Thunk!

“Argh!”

“If you don't answer, I'll twist it three times.”

From experience, Marcus knew that hardly anyone would confess immediately if asked politely. In an urgent situation, this was the most efficient method of interrogation.

“The prison! They're in the prison!”

“Where is it? Explain in detail.”

As he asked, Marcus turned the dagger half a circle.

“Arghhh!”

That, too, came from experience. Even if someone answered the first question after getting hit once, many would hesitate at the second out of loyalty to their organization.

“Over there! Go that way, turn right, then go straaaaight! It's a single path, and it suddenly goes underground, so it'll be easy to find! Look for the place that smells like a sewer!”

Afraid Marcus might twist the dagger again, the priest added a detailed explanation through tears and snot.

“Thank you.”

Thwack!

Marcus pulled out the dagger and struck the priest's neck with its handle, knocking them unconscious.

“Let's go!”

The rescue party charged into the monastery.

A handful of priests came rushing toward them. Each gripped a long polearm with a blade.

There were only a few for now, but soon there would be dozens.

“We'll hold them here!”

“I'm counting on you!”

As planned, those skilled with shields stood their ground.

“Come at us if you want holes punched through your bodies!”

They set large square shields side by side and threatened the priests with short spears.

‘Please be safe, my sister.’

Moonlight poured over Marcus's handsome face.

The cold moonlight and a Dhampir's skin could not steal the warmth from his face, not when it held such love for his only blood relative.

“There!”

The scout racing at the front with a buckler and estoc pointed toward an underground room ahead.

The Dhampirs' sensitive noses were assaulted by the foul stench, but smiles played on their lips. The operation was proceeding smoothly, without any complications.

Footnotes:

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