Soft Spots and Armor

The crescent moon hung in the sky, its halo of hazy light casting the moonlight into a dim gloom.

Under the faint moonlight, somewhere in the wilderness of Newbury Province, Duchy, two battered men could only lick each other's wounds.

They did not even dare light a fire. Instead, they ate the family of gerbils that the less-injured One-Eyed Dragon had dug out of the sand.

Raw.

"Come to think of it, this tastes even fishier than sashimi."

One-Eyed Dragon still had the heart to joke with his captain. That vitality infected the somewhat downcast Horus, and he laughed as well.

"It's got too much of a muddy taste. Once we reach the nearest farm tomorrow, I'll show you whether my cooking skills have deteriorated. After all, I was assigned to cook every other Tuesday aboard ship, and you all seemed to enjoy my food."

The bit of motivation that had just risen came to an end with that sentence.

The two men, who had still been brimming with energy and laughing heartily moments before, suddenly grew despondent, their movements as they raised meat to their mouths slowing.

The deathly look in their eyes grew heavier, and tears began streaming uncontrollably from them.

"That's right! Because I took that mission, all the heads of the men who used to eat my cooking every other Tuesday have moved house."

Horus hated it!

He could not forget the bodies of his brothers falling heavily to the ground one after another. He could not forget those iron-armored soldiers coldly chopping off their heads with swords and axes, then casually tying them to their belts.

They had killed many people, and they knew they would eventually be killed by someone else. But what he could not let go of was the other side's attitude when they spared him!

He did not hate the noble who had spared him after slaughtering everyone aboard his ship!

He hated the act itself.

The other side had not considered his feelings in the slightest. Whether it was for a plan or some political scheme, leaving the two of them alive to serve as scapegoats was utterly callous.

Yet all they could do was flee in disgrace.

The other side did not care that he might seek revenge, either. It was complete disregard.

It was naked contempt, backed by confidence bordering on arrogance.

Horus still remembered the attitude and look in that young noble's eyes when he said he would spare them—the sense of charity he revealed, as though he did not care in the slightest.

"Stop crying!"

His fingernails dug fiercely into his palm, crushing the mouse meat in his hand. Blood flowed freely, and he could not tell whether it was the mouse's blood or his own.

Horus growled like a beast. "Eat these mice! We need to recover our strength! He's driving us toward that Viscount's territory, so we can't do as he says!"

"That's right! We're going back! We'll take him down! We'll avenge our brothers! We're not dogs for him to drive around at will!"

The two beasts licking each other's wounds could only curl up in this dark corner and eat the mice raw. Was it miserable?

Neither of them felt that this was particularly tragic. Those accustomed to drifting across the sea all understood that being alive was already a gift from the Sea God.

But hatred was difficult to extinguish.

Meanwhile, the "late-night snack" held in Tervain Village to welcome the soldiers was already nearing its end.

Tervain Village had money and supplies, so its celebrations were always carried out with such casual ease.

This was the second feast in a short time, nominally a welcome banquet for the soldiers stationed at the manor.

In reality, it should be considered a celebration of their having achieved another victory and all received the god's blessing.

They were giving thanks for being able to follow the Divine Favor.

With William Adena mediating, the old sergeant was drinking against Adamson, while the light infantry wrestled with the young heavy cavalryman. The feast looked utterly chaotic.

That was also fitting for this barbaric, backward era, and for the ignorant natives who lacked knowledge. It was how they celebrated and yearned for everything beautiful.

The two men wrestling in the center of the banquet grounds finally determined the winner.

Although the light infantryman from the castle was older and had far more combat experience, he truly was no match for this half-grown youth.

The figures on the panel did not lie.

After the winner and loser had been decided, no one mocked the loser. Instead, everyone cheered loudly and toasted the two of them.

Ergons Tevalin stood up as usual to give a toast. After his earlier contemplation, he felt that since he wanted to show the Baron that his blade was still sharp,

he could not say anything too emotional at a time like this.

"To the Baron, to the Church, and to all those who love this land and gain the means to survive from the love returned by the earth!

"Some say that acquiring land and continuing to guard the people here on behalf of the Duchy and the Church is the best gift I received today.

"In truth, the best gift I received was all of you!"

Ergons Tevalin's words were highly infectious, making him seem like a devout believer and noble aristocrat.

"As a believer, I'm very happy that I can do more for the people under my care.

"In the past, you were my soft spot. Now, because you follow me, you are my armor. With your support, I can become better, do more for the Baron, share the Count's burdens, and help the Duchy develop in a better direction."

William Adena had secretly told him that these people were supposedly all "pledged" to the Church.

In other words, they were all people planted by the Church. But even though they were also the Baron's men, none of them truly supported the Church.

So he could speak more freely with these soldiers from the castle, saying things that seemed unrelated on the surface.

"My sword shines with a silver radiance, and now everyone gathered here stands before me, fighting for the Duchy and the Church under the guidance of my blade."

There was nothing wrong with saying this. After all, he had assumed the identity of Sir Davis Tevalin and was now a border patrol officer of the Northern Legion. These soldiers sent from the castle, regardless of whom they truly served behind the scenes,

were publicly the subordinates of Sir Davis Tevalin.

Although they were not truly loyal to Sir Davis Tevalin, and Ergons Tevalin was not Sir Davis Tevalin either.

By the time the feast ended, it was already very late at night—or rather, dawn was beginning to illuminate the world when the people finally dispersed.

With Old Adam there, arranging places for them to rest was no problem at all. He did not need to consider it personally in the slightest.

The only somewhat unscrupulous part was that the place where this squad of twenty was resting had just sent off nearly twenty pirates.

That was right. Using the excuse that this weighing house was the closest place in the manor to the main castle, Old Adam arranged for these people to stay in the very weighing house where a group of pirates had just died.

Even the bedding they used had covered corpses just the day before.

After letting them rest for most of the morning, Ergons gave them their first task before lunch: go inspect the pirates' remains.

The pirates had not yet been buried. Their heads had been sent to the Baron, while their bodies had all been gathered in the weighing house closest to the granary.