Chapter 116

Chapter 116 - Desert's Method (1)

The Blackhand tribe warriors commanded by Eugene displayed resilient yet smooth movements, much like ballet dancers.

Dark Elves are not inherently born with flexible bodies. Their muscles are elastic and their reflexes are excellent, but their range of motion is only slightly better than that of humans.

This physical flexibility was forged through tear-soaked efforts from a young age.

"Ughhh."

"Heugh!"

"Keugh..."

Dark-skinned boys and girls, who appeared to be around ten years old, groaned with tearful faces. They were all sitting on the floor at regular intervals, undergoing leg-stretching training.

Eugene happened to observe their flexibility training while inspecting the interior of the castle with Homi.

"Endure it."

"Freely moving limbs and a tolerance for pain are essential processes for becoming an excellent warrior."

The individuals speaking with a certain level of dignity and heartlessness were teenagers who looked to be in their mid to late teens.

Their mismatched, heavy-handed demeanor looked cute to Eugene, but it must have been terrifying in the children's society.

Older brothers and sisters held the feet of the aspiring younger ones from both sides to keep them fixed in place.

"Hnnng."

The restrained children had tears brimming in their eyes due to the pain, but they did not bawl outright.

It is no more strange for tears to flow when in pain than for blood to flow from a wound. These children had been taught that it is important not to succumb to that pain.

"Giving up just because it hurts is an insult to the training methods developed by our ancestors through blood and sweat."

The only adult female instructor among those supervising the flexibility training spoke strictly.

"The Lord is watching. You do not intend to bring shame to our clan, do you?"

"Yeees!"

The children's gazes focused on Eugene along with a chorus of lisping voices.

"..."

Eugene's heart also ached watching them all staring with tear-filled eyes, but he could not interfere.

Even though Eugene was their employer and the lord bestowed upon them by fate, he could not tamper with the clan's unique traditions and customs.

'Is this what it means to be of a different breed?'

Although the children had tears in their eyes, they all approached the training with strong stubbornness and a fighting spirit.

This was an era where child labor was a given, and child soldiers, slaves, and even forced castrations were common. Leg splits were considered nothing in comparison.

"Ughhh!"

"Lower your voice. Groans are permitted, but screams are not."

"Do you intend to become a disgrace to the clan in front of the Lord?"

One young girl, who was in pain, quickly covered her mouth after being scolded by her older siblings.

"Hic! Hic..."

"How is it? Everyone is diligently training with one mind. These children will become your sword and bow in the future, Lord, and offer you the heads of your enemies."

'This is driving me crazy.'

The instructor spoke politely yet with pride, but Eugene felt like he was sitting on a bed of nails.

To see children silently shedding tears and clenching their teeth everywhere... It would have been better to swing a sword against monsters on the battlefield instead.

Tap, tap.

Homi, standing next to him, tapped Eugene's wrist. Her eyes seemed to ask if he could just give them a short break.

"I understand your feelings, but it is difficult. I have already interfered a lot with their way of life."

Before meeting Eugene, the Blackhand tribe's first real combat deployment age was sixteen. Even if it was for auxiliary missions like transport and scouting rather than direct combat, going to the battlefield was still the same.

Eugene could not permit the deployment of child soldiers, no matter how much he considered the era's context. He had raised the age to eighteen through careful conversation and compromise.

He had also abolished the practice where young trainees who made mistakes received whippings like adults.

... Please, could you stop them? These scars will last a lifetime.

Valda had earnestly requested this while applying medicine to the bloodied back of a young boy.

... I intend to change this even without your words, Lady Valda.

The corporal punishment of young trainees was changed to striking their palms or the soles of their feet with a standardized rod.

In addition to that, he increased their sleeping hours and ensured they were fed meat at every meal without fail.

... Sir Knight. We deeply respect your merciful heart, but we have our own ways. If they get used to comfort and pleasure from a young age, they will become weak and lazy warriors. There are quite a few complaints from the instructors these days.

Naturally, opposition arose within the tribe, and Rex had cautiously conveyed their opinions on their behalf.

... It is not for the sake of comfort and pleasure, but an investment for larger builds and greater muscle strength. You have to eat well and sleep a lot when you are young to grow tall.

There were many aspects of their culture that Eugene had touched upon, extending beyond just combat matters.

Befitting a nomadic warrior race, the tribe's women were put straight into tasks even after giving birth.

Of course, having to work tirelessly right after childbirth was a common reality for all women living in this era. Eugene, however, could not tolerate this under his rule.

... My Lord. The more sluggish we became due to pregnancy and childbirth, the more we need to move to restore our strength.

Eugene's head throbbed when the middle-aged women of the tribe swarmed him to argue.

... That is right. If you just lay quietly, the weakened womb will sag just like that.

... Wait, what... What exactly sags?!

His mind grew faint at the bizarre logic combining pseudoscience and grit.

... Consider childbirth as an extension of an injury. Do you not have to rest until an arrow wound or a sword cut heals? Moving the affected area will only open the wound further.

... An injury, you say. Our clan is different from those weak humans...

... Sister! Sister!

... Ahem!

The middle-aged woman coughed conspicuously, belatedly remembering that Eugene's ears were round.

... Please look. We are all warriors who fought for days even with arrows stuck in us or our chests slashed open.

The women each revealed their scars from their active days and formulated rebuttals.

The females of this damn tribe were all muscular, whether they were young girls running around, young women training, or middle-aged women working.

The fierce gazes sent by the mothers, who could subdue a rookie mercenary from human society with a single punch, swarmed him.

Their tone of voice was gentle, but their attitude was tough like strong ropes, exhibiting a different kind of intensity than the male warriors. Eugene, a born soldier, had no resistance to this sort of thing.

... No matter how strong you are, childbirth is childbirth. Isn't it natural for the body to suffer damage after enduring pain all day?

... Hohoho. It seems the Lord has judged based on the standards of ordinary human women. I gave birth with just three pushes.

... Is that also a trait of Dark Elves?

... It is the trait of one who has trained.

Along with those words, the middle-aged woman speaking on their behalf lifted the bottom of her top to reveal armor-like abs. Two thick sword scars crossing over them were quite impressive.

... Hup!

As she contracted her muscles with a short shout, the outline of her ribs was fully exposed. Her stomach sank deeply as if she hadn't eaten for months, demonstrating an incredible level of the stomach vacuum technique.

... Even if we are retired now, we were also warriors who once roamed the battlefield. We still do not skip our training.

... Regardless, a mother must rest.

... But this is a tradition passed down since the times of our mothers, grandmothers, and great-grandmothers...

... Enough! This is an order from the Lord. I forbid combat training and labor after childbirth.

... My Lord!

Eugene wanted to set a generous recovery period of four weeks, but the backlash was so fierce that he had to compromise on fifteen days.

"This is the current situation, Homi."

"..."

Homi also knew that Eugene had been touching upon various aspects of the tribe's culture. She never expected such exhausting compromises and debates, however.

"I am their leader, but I am not their chieftain. Their traditions must also be respected. There are already many things I have barely managed to change, and many things I still want to change. I cannot interfere too much."

Eugene himself was just a soldier. He did not know much about science or medicine.

He did possess enough knowledge to cut out bad practices corresponding to pseudoscience based on the common sense he knew, though.

Excising the deeply rooted evils that were gnawing at the Blackhand tribe. That was exhausting, but it was also something that definitively had to be done.

Nod.

Homi quietly stepped back, feeling sorry for the children in pain.

Unlike her, who was merely a single warrior, her liege Eugene had to care for and negotiate all sorts of matters. She could not put him in a difficult position simply out of her personal sympathy.

* * *

The life cycle of mercenaries is simple. They take commissions to fight when they run out of money, and then play and eat until they spend it all when they get paid.

Diligence was not necessarily considered a virtue because it was fundamentally a job that risked one's life. Going to the battlefield multiple times meant the likelihood of dying increased accordingly.

The situation was different under Eugene, however. Since they won every place they attacked and secured hefty spoils, it was difficult for fear or laziness to creep in.

"Where do you think we will go next?"

"I heard there are a few easygoing free cities nearby."

"I wish we could just raid some more slave traders. I finally understand why those Dark Elf folks said hunting down slave traders is so lucrative."

"It's been quite a while since we left Northfork, am I the only one who misses it there?"

Above all, there were no arduous marches or subpar meals. Discussing their next destination was an enjoyable pastime in itself.

Eugene would make the final decision, but the atmosphere allowed anyone to make suggestions comfortably. Thanks to this, an industrious trend emerged where they would actively seek their next job after a brief rest once an assignment was finished.

What made them feel most proud was that new items decorating the castle, whether big or small, were added in every journey.

Some individuals went beyond pride and acted more actively.

"There are people worshipping the Goddess Vanas? Already?"

Eugene heard that some mercenaries were visiting the sanctuary to pray while drinking tea with Valda.

It was quite unexpected, considering it had only been a few days since the golden goddess statue was enshrined.

"The blessing of the immortal body seemed to have been extremely impressive."

"Isn't that something they can't even use recklessly because of the side effects?"

"Mercenaries love insurance. How reassuring must it be to have a place to pin their hopes on at the very last moment?"

"I can understand since they live a life walking on the edge of a blade."

"The famous gods offer no feedback even if you pray and donate at their temples for a hundred days. A forgotten, weak goddess like Vanas would likely feel much more approachable to mercenaries."

A god's power is proportional to the number of believers, their faith, and their offerings.

However, something akin to an upper limit on efficiency existed for that. A popular god receiving immense faith and offerings paradoxically became distant from individual believers.

Conversely, a god receiving only a handful of faith and offerings would eagerly bestow blessings upon their believers, even if their total power was weak.

Whether a normal human body and soul could fully withstand that was a separate issue, of course.

"Since mercenaries are weak to superstition, they would have normally feared her, calling her a heretical god. It seems they became convinced she is not an evil god the moment you enshrined her in the sanctuary."

Marbas, who was drinking tea with them, added a comment.

"They believe the magical castle will stop Vanas if she tries to use wicked tricks."

"This castle doesn't exactly protect them in that way, though."

"The faith of mercenaries tends to be rather arbitrary to begin with. So what will you do? Do you plan to control it?"

"Complaints would grow loud if I did. This is a matter regarding faith, of all things. Besides, I am also interested as a magician."

Eugene's principle was to use whatever could be used.

Given the characteristics of the people in this era, it was impossible to completely disconnect from the gods. If so, it was a decent choice to serve a god where mutual assistance was possible within the reach of his control.

* * *

People, goods, culture, and even spiritual beings. As Eugene was maintaining the castle that changed step by step with each journey, the next destination was decided.

"My Lord. Armed individuals have arrived before the castle gates and are requesting an audience. They appear to be recruitment officers from a nearby city."

The guard captain on duty reported to Eugene.

Since this was an era without the concept of a standing army, armies were hastily formed whenever military power was needed.

They hired mercenaries who visited castles and cities, and if that was not enough, they toured villages gathering young men who had a desire for success and adventure.

When the situation was urgent, they even forcibly conscripted men over a certain age under the lord's orders.

The methods and authority varied by region, but those assigned such duties were broadly referred to as recruitment officers.

"Are you sure they didn't just get lost, but actually came looking for me?"

Eugene found it bewildering.

Given the Moving Castle's trait of descending in places without human souls, its surroundings were mostly uncharted territories.

This was not a place where recruitment officers, who had to roam populated areas, should end up.

Eugene walked over to a nearby balcony and looked down to see dozens of men gathered outside.

A well-dressed middle-aged man who looked to be of high status, a small number of armed troops, and young men looking around with curiosity and fear. It was a typical procession of a recruitment officer.

"They really did come looking for me."

Due to the nature of their work, recruitment officers and their escorts were all arrogant. Since they mainly dealt with rural commoners, they felt a sense of superiority, and exuding an imposing presence made conscription and control easier.

However, the middle-aged man currently waiting in front of the castle was sweating profusely, filled with nerve-wracking tension.

"He seems to know where he has come."

"Whether he knows or not, a mere recruitment officer would have to be crazy to act arrogantly in front of a castle like this."

Eugene nodded at Marbas's words and ordered the castle gates to be opened.