Chapter 123

Chapter 123 - Struggle for Survival (3)

"A-alright. I understand."

Denver hastily stepped backward.

'Goddamn Knife-ears and their tempers anyway.'

Denver was also well aware of the Blackhand mercenary group's infamous reputation. Though he wondered why on earth they came down to Samur out of nowhere.

Furthermore, thinking about it, this was a windfall. As his excitement subsided, the thought occurred to him that he should leave the area while the commanding knight was absent.

"We need to treat our wounded as well, so we will take our leave now. Truly thank you for saving our lives..."

Attempting to withdraw using an appropriate excuse, Denver discovered the Heavy Cavalry blocking the retreat path. The tribal warriors were already deployed in a formation surrounding the Mongoose mercenary group.

"No one leaves before the knight's permission falls."

Rex spoke with an expression that said Denver was absurd.

At a glance, it looked like they were guarding the perimeter, but any slight move revealed an intent to subject them to an encirclement fire at a moment's notice.

"What in the world is the meaning of this?"

Denver immediately argued back. Already a captain by a fluke, his control and foundation over his subordinates were weak. It would be troublesome to keep showing a side of himself being disregarded like this. It was a time he had to push forcefully even if he was scared.

"Did you think we wouldn't know you're trying to scurry away with the loot?"

"..."

The items the Smallfolk robbed from their target of ambush amounted to a considerable quantity.

They ate all the food loaded in the carriages, including the people and livestock. But precious metals and various valuable goods remained intact.

The Mongoose mercenary group had managed to somehow squirrel those away even while being surrounded and battered by the Smallfolk.

The subordinates cleverly hid the expensive items here and there on their bodies, but avoiding the discerning eyes of the tribal warriors was impossible.

"I would like to take 80 percent of the loot as the price for your lives, but I am not the one who decides the price. So wait until the knight comes out."

"This is Samur! We are also hired by the city, do you think it will be fine for outsiders to do this?"

Unable to overcome the difference in power, he attempted to bluff using connections, but Rex did not blink an eye.

"Then bring it."

"..."

"Did you think this is the first or second time we're hearing words like that? Our clan has wandered the world as outsiders for our entire lives. We sold military force and unequivocally received its worth."

Denver had no alternative even in a situation where his face was evaporating in front of his subordinates. If a fight broke out, they would turn his men into hedgehogs as if they had been waiting for it.

It was an opportunity to seize everything in the name of self-defense. Weren't these bastards the ones who would stab even nobles if they didn't get paid?

Honestly speaking, if the roles were reversed, he would have done worse.

"Fine. I will speak directly to your captain."

Denver looked at the tent feeling like clutching at straws. A knight would surely be more generous than a mercenary who stabs people over a single silver coin.

* * *

An attitude valuing tradition is a universal virtue across all ages and countries. This tendency was especially stronger in this era, where history directly equated to a family's prestige.

Meanwhile, the Blackhand clan valued tradition dearly for reasons separate from strong pride.

Skills and knowledge developed over dozens of generations while earning a livelihood as mercenary and assassin groups.

Because they could be preserved 100% identically only within the vessel known as tradition, not into ink or paper.

Physical training methods, disguise arts, bone alteration arts, scouting, shamanism, prophecies, herbalism, astronomy, medicine, alchemy, curses, dispels, beast breeding, trap making, etc.

Members diligently honed their skills day and night. To fully embody the knowledge completed through their ancestors' sacrifices within their own bodies.

"Things like herbalism are very useful and easy to learn. The majority of the tribe members are taught it."

"I am well aware of that."

At Cassandra's words, Eugene recalled the scenery he saw every day at the Moving Castle.

When the castle berthed and secured the surrounding area, the tribal women took the children and went out gathering.

Because the places the Moving Castle descended upon were far from human settlements, precious medicinal herbs, herbs, and ingredients were abundantly preserved.

Mothers to daughters, aunts to nieces, older sisters to younger brothers.

The sight of teaching how to distinguish and gather useful plants was Eugene's favorite snack. Every time he drank tea on the Lord's balcony, his eyes enjoyed it and his heart grew warm.

They, in their own way, felt satisfied with the feeling of being protected under the Lord's gaze.

A little further away, youths voluntarily trained by swinging wooden swords or shooting bows.

Occasional, adults educated them on how to process the beasts they hunted.

... You must never touch the bladder. If it bursts, we cannot use the meat. And as for the intestines, from here to here is edible. Everything below this tastes horrible, so toss it as feed when keeping wolves or dogs.

When they poked various spots on a fresh carcass with twitching muscles using a dagger, everyone watched with sparkling eyes.

Eugene's thoughts halted at Cassandra's continuing explanation.

"Contrary to skills everyone learns, there are skills only the chosen ones challenge. It is hard to learn, depends on aptitude, and costs a lot."

"Even if it is demanding, it must be endured. It is a precious legacy developed with our ancestors' blood and sweat."

"Yes. We can absolutely never let it be severed."

The meaning of inheriting clan-specific skills. Cassandra smiled at Eugene's reaction respecting that.

"Ophelia here is the successor of a secret art famous for being exceedingly difficult among them."

"You were not a Dark Elf?"

Waiting inside the tent was an elf identical to Valda.

"Please forgive my rudeness for hiding my appearance until now. Seeing the Lord's face, I officially greet you."

Ophelia, who appeared to have just reached adulthood, bowed politely.

"It's fine. If it is for a precious skill, formalities can just be used as wrapping paper."

"Thank you for saying so. And you may look comfortably. Though you must have already heard from Lady Cassandra."

Did she possess a cold personality by nature? Ophelia showed no change in expression even after revealing her shameful parts brightly to an unfamiliar man.

'It means she is a soldier prior to being a shaman.'

A situation where a young lady with a childish face maintains a posture similar to a naked 'at ease'. That dizzying sight provoked as much awkwardness as eroticism.

"Did you perhaps recently join the family?"

"No. I was taken in as an infant and grew up drinking the milk of the clan's women."

Ophelia shook her head. It seemed moving anything above the neck was permitted for the Blackhand family's attention posture.

"You must have been puzzled because of Ophelia's body."

Those who mastered non-combat skills like cooking, processing, and shamanism, let alone retired warriors, also trained their bodies in the Blackhand clan.

However, Ophelia's body retained a softness without any bumpy parts.

"Given the nature of her capabilities, she must not build muscles."

"It seems to be a type of... hypnosis."

"Always quick on the uptake as expected."

Ophelia's pure white naked body was engraved with unique tattoos. They were not excessive like Irezumi, but dreamy illustrations as if drawing someone's dreams.

"The tattoos on the flesh, simple incantations, incense, and suggestions given by glances and dance. It is a powerful shamanism controlling the opponent's mind through a combination of four beats."

Cassandra looked at Ophelia with trust and pride. She seemed to be a highly cherished subordinate.

"It must have hurt a lot."

Piercing the skin and injecting special chemicals is a painful task.

He recalled the tribal children shedding tear after tear while doing the splits for flexibility training not long ago. This probably couldn't even compare to that.

"It is a price paid to embrace the clan's treasure within my body. I could accept pain with a smile. It is not like I am the only one, either. There are those in the family who undergo even greater penance."

"Isn't she a truly wonderful child?"

Cassandra figured out what the still bitter-faced Eugene was thinking.

"Are you perhaps worried that she might suffer when she meets someone she loves later because of the tattoos filling her body? Are you thinking about something like that?"

"Was it too obvious?"

"Mercy is an emotion easily revealed on one's face. However, there is no need to worry."

Cassandra moved behind Ophelia and wrapped her hands around her shoulders.

"Because Ophelia's tattoos make her more attractive than any makeup in this world."

That probably meant the power of the tattoos was that strong.

"Even those possessing firm wills turn like lust-filled mercenaries in front of this child. Noble knights discard their loyalty, faithful priests worship her as their new god, and even battle-crazed berserkers calm their boiling blood."

"Incredible. If it works against monsters too, it is a power that has already transcended the realm of hypnosis."

There existed a rare magical field called monster taming. While she might fall short of mages wholly specialized in that area, it was a remarkable ability in terms of versatility.

The Smallfolk, soon to be the target of the ability, lay unconscious, tied with ropes by the tribal warriors.

'It really looks disgusting looking at it up close.'

Not only was it distorted hideously like a Goblin, but its skin was wrinkly and its teeth were like a piranha's.

"If there happens to be anything you are curious about, please ask comfortably. I heard, my Lord, you are a mage concurrent with being a knight. You undoubtedly must harbor curiosity toward mysteries."

"Then without declining. The reason you specifically brought in an elf to inherit such a powerful secret art must also be because of the tattoos, right?"

It was exceptional to take in an outsider instead of a family native to teach a precious skill.

"Yes. As you can see, because the visual effect given by the tattoos is vital to the shamanism. Existing family members are somewhat..."

Ophelia trailed off while reading Cassandra's mood. Dark Elves with dark skin found it difficult to properly utilize the visual effects provided by tattoos.

However, Dark Elves were those whose pride pierced the sky even more than elves. Having to rely on outsiders due to the limits of physical conditions was something bound to be uncomfortable to mention.

"It's fine. It's fine."

Though Cassandra showed an attitude of not minding it.

"However, if having white skin is the important part, there would be many alternatives even without specifically choosing an elf."

This was the part Eugene was genuinely curious about. Because while it was easy to forget due to Valda, elves and Dark Elves were fundamentally mortal enemies.

"If we only look at skin, finding someone with white skin is not difficult. But hypnosis is a delicate shamanism where its effects are diminished by a single trivial detail. Not to mention skin discoloration, unnecessary body hair is also an element that interferes with the shamanism."

"Ah!"

"Which do you desire between 99% and 100%, my Lord?"

"Naturally 100%."

The two sister races, elves and Dark Elves, did not grow hair outside their bodies except for head hair, eyebrows, and eyelashes.

... My Lord, how about trying to grow a beard?

... Why?

... Because I think it would look good on you. Regardless of other things, we hold some level of romance towards beards. I'm envious.

Looking around when bathing together after combat training, the tribal warriors were smooth and sleek. Hence, Eugene often felt like he became a caveman all by himself.

Body hair was a large reason among the various reasons Dark Elves despised humans.

"Look at this. Isn't it truly beautiful? It is a cleanliness humans can absolutely never match."

"... Lady Cassandra."

Ophelia had her arms lifted by her superior, exposing her armpits.

A ripple occurred for the first time on her marble-like expression. Her cheeks heated up faintly, and the tips of her ears noticeably flushed.

"There's no need to specifically show that."

"I thought you might be curious."

An awkward-faced Eugene, a sly Cassandra, and an Ophelia with trembling eyelashes.

She was composed when displaying the upper-stream raspberries or the down-stream figs, yet it seemed her armpits were embarrassing.

"Karrek-!"

Just then, the Smallfolk waking up from unconsciousness began to growl.

"Shall I slowly begin the interrogation?"

Figuring this was the time, Ophelia sought permission, and Eugene nodded.

"I will quiet it down first."

Ophelia thrust her slender leg in front of the Smallfolk's face.

"Wait, danger!"

Eugene shouted in panic. Even though the Smallfolk was bound, it was not gagged.

"Grrr-!"

The Smallfolk, thrusting its face as if to bite the beautiful foot, abruptly halted. Its glaring eyes were fixed on the pattern originating from the top of the foot.

"Kee... eeee..."

It struggled to not look at the tattoo somehow, but its neck and eyes were fixed on the top of Ophelia's foot against its will.

Jingle.

When Ophelia lightly shook her foot, the small bell attached to her anklet made a sound. At that, the Smallfolk's resistance collapsed entirely. The bastard became quiet with a bewitched face as if its soul had left.

Withdrawing her foot, Ophelia lit an antique-looking smoking pipe and took a deep drag.

The lips drawing and the motions were exceedingly seductive. Her neat lips had unconsciously curled into a provocative smile, looking down at the Smallfolk.

It felt like she became a different woman in an instant before Eugene's eyes. As if a single pure white lily bud suddenly bloomed into a red rose.

Like the cases where personalities shift the moment an amiable swordsman grips his sword, or a quiet mage recites a spell.

"Huuq."

White smoke billowed from Ophelia's lips. Whether she underwent special training, her lung capacity was not ordinary.

There was absolutely no acrid smell of tobacco in that breath. A sweet yet somewhat sticky fragrance filled the tent.

"Will you tell me what I desire?"

Just one sentence.

Ophelia's voice transformed into a spiritual rope, suppressing the Smallfolk's spirit.

"Kee... eeq-!"

Another bastard who had just woken up resisted while biting its lip, but this was only the beginning.

Ophelia wrapped around her own delicate arms and tilted her head diagonally.

Beside hair cascading like a waterfall, her slightly twisted shoulders and pelvis formed a beautiful asymmetry.

Eugene received the feeling that the red tattoos traversing from her indented waist to her shoulder blades were squirming.

"Ophelia's shamanism affects even those standing nearby."

"You mean we get caught in it too?"

"Yes. However, it is fine. Because only the intended target takes the blow. In fact, those observing by her side are rather..."

Pausing momentarily, Cassandra flashed a peculiar smile.

"Offered a differently enjoyable experience respectively."

The moment Cassandra finished speaking, a change began. A massive lily sprang up from Ophelia's back.

Swoosh!

The petals fully occupying the narrow tent approached Eugene's face.

Inside it, the pistils swayed coquettishly. He felt the illusion as if a woman's touches were affectionately caressing his face.

'Is this an illusion? Or is it real?'

Eugene's resolute soul firmly maintained his ego like a dam built from diamond. He couldn't distinguish whether the flower before his eyes was only reality, however.

He merely felt good at the sensation of petals and pistils continuously tickling his neck and face, and the profound scent entering his lungs. Regardless of whether it was reality or an illusion.

"Hehe~."

Cassandra, whose arms were linked with Eugene's, had her eyes gently closed. What kind of illusion was she seeing?

While Eugene and Cassandra were being stroked with tenderness, the Smallfolk was crumbling completely.

"Keeee-."

Horrifying fear and intense pleasure. Swept in a torrent of two conflicting emotions, the Smallfolk drooled spit and tears.

"Give me what I desire. Your family. Your comrades. Even your dreams. Offer them all to me."

Ophelia dyed this space into her own territory. A deep mystery resided in her voice.

'She is somewhat similar yet different from me.'

Though not as overwhelmingly powerful as the Eucharist Eugene wielded, it exuded a scent of a similar nature.

"■■■ ■■■ ■■■■."

"Anything else?"

"■■■■■."

Ophelia was understanding the words it poured out detailing every single thing. It was because the target of hypnosis included the caster, Ophelia herself, as well.

Because she was in a state spiritually linked with the subdued Smallfolk's mind, she could transcend language and understand their mental imagery.

This alone was a stunt impossible even for the rare few mages capable of taming monsters. They could issue commands, but could not understand the monsters' hearts.

It was truly an invaluable secret art.

"Honestly, it is not very entertaining to use on weak souls like the Smallfolk. Look forward to when I use this on a human someday. It is truly a sight to behold, you know?"

Cassandra chuckled softly holding a beautiful yet cruel smile.

* * *

Leaving behind the maddened Smallfolk covered in tears, snot, and urine, Eugene's group stepped outside.

"The next destination is set."

Everyone waiting outside strained their ears at Eugene's words.

"Thanks to Ophelia, we discovered the Smallfolk's hideout and the Rakshasa colony they were ambushing. I heard a considerable amount of wealth is stored there."

"Even if those bastards hold onto it, it will just rot anyway."

"It's only right for us to collect it for them."

The mercenaries and tribal warriors cheered and responded.

"But why are those people still lingering? Is it because it is dangerous to go back alone?"

Eugene looked at the Mongoose mercenary group standing with rigid postures.

"We have not yet received the price for their lives."

"Is that all. You could have just decided on that yourself, Rex."

"Because that would be overstepping my authority. Moreover, he said he wanted to negotiate directly with you, my Lord."

"Hmm."

Thinking briefly, Eugene finished his calculations and nodded.

"I permit you to collect the equipment of your deceased comrades."

"..."

In a word, it meant they had to leave behind all the loot they secured from the Smallfolk. Even Rex looked at Eugene with an expression of admiration.

"What is the matter?"

"N-no, are you telling us to return empty-handed from here?"

"If you desire, you may cut off the ears or noses of the Smallfolk to take with you. You could present them to the city as proof of cooperating in the subjugation. They will probably pay you an extra allowance."

A magnificently trained massive physique, excellent armor, and a majestic black cloak. Although his appearance was a model of an honorable knight, his actions were equal to a merchant.

Touched by an even more vicious distribution than Rex's, Denver shed tears along with his subordinates.