Episode 7 : The Lady's Tent - Part 5

 Night has fallen.

 In the tent, until late at night, the captains of the troops surrounding the princess were discussing the matter, but this finally came to an end, and the captains retired to their respective troops. The attendants used the precious water to wring out the cloth, wiped the duchess's hands and feet, washed the dust of Nosferus clean, and made the Lord comfortable on the floor covered with layers of linen, and the lights in the tent were blown out.

 Outside, of course, there would be no peace and quiet, as if this were Arvon's chambers. Bonfires were lit to scorch the heavens, and more and more dead moss and portable fuel was poured into the air.

 The soldiers glanced upward, rushing to feed themselves and thirsting for the taste of the honey wine they were forbidden to drink. Their faces were stained white with the dust of Nosferus, and there was no water to wash them away.

 But when they began to light fires, probably because they did not like the warm air rising above them, the angel-hairs turned into doughnuts, avoiding the sky above them, and they did not seem to be gathering any more, and the situation seemed to have settled down for the moment.

 The anxiety and agitation of the soldiers, who seemed to have nothing to do but to wait for the attack with ringworms on their heads, subsided little by little with the efficacy of the fire which began to kindle, and with Angel Hair showing no sign of doing anything, and the people began to grow somewhat accustomed to the haze above them. And when they looked up, they saw the meek monster fluttering and wavering, as if looking down upon them with pale, emotionless eyes. But the fire burned brightly, and the soldiers at last regained their spirits enough to exchange a few words in private.

 Their attention was divided between two things: the extraordinary gathering of the Angel Hair, and their prisoner, a monster with a leopard's head, a man's body, and a huge body, and an extraordinary energy.

"I've never seen or heard of anything like this."

 In every unit, there are men who are respected for their knowledge, and others who are relied upon for their somewhat superior sixth sense and intuition.

 They were half-lit by the flames, talking to their colleagues who were listening with their mouths open.

"It's a bad omen. It has to be. Otherwise, I'll take this sword by the scabbard."

"Is it the angel hair, or is it the--" he hissed, looking toward it--"the monster?"

"Both!"

 The man replied and took a sip from his water bottle.

"If it had been either one of those things, I might still have an explanation. Coincidence, or that whatever happens on Nosferus is not to be feared, or that whatever lives there will never be fully revealed.

 But - since the two occurred in such unison, and since the tragedy of Staphorus came before and after it -"

"In Staphorus, there was my countryman Garun and young Oro."

 Another knight says, his face flushed with fire.

"If the tragedy of the destruction of Staphorus was brought about by some fate connected to that monster or indicated by that monster as an omen, tell me. I have a small price to pay for letting my friends die so miserably at Shem's hands."

"No, it's no use, if fate can be cut with a sword at the hip, there's no need for magic."

 The curious man made a muffled laugh and then,

"But--I think--"

 He looked around at his companions who were listening closely, trying to hear every word he said, and his voice trailed off.

"Look, I'm telling you this between you and me, because I know I shouldn't be telling you this. ... To be honest, I don't know. I have a feeling that the palace shouldn't have messed with the golden parrot. ..."

 His voice finally got low.

"And why is it that--"

 I look around at the shocked faces, faces, faces.

"Think about it. Where the series of specters that began with the destruction of Staphorus takes place, there is always the Pearl of Paro and the figure of Silenos guarding it. ..."

"Speaking of which, sure."

"The spinning wheel that Yarn uses is called Fate, and the loom in his hand is called Chance, and only Yarn knows which thread will fall on the pattern he weaves.

 But this is ...."

"Then why don't you quickly string those pearls together like a necklace and seal the curse?"

"I do not mean that they themselves are the source of the curse, nor that they are the originators of the demons."

 Around them, little by little, people began to gather. The man who was speaking looked around at them in pity for their ignorance,

"But the City of Beauty, Paro, with its Crystal Palace, is also the home of the City of Magic, the Temple of Janus. It's a kingdom that's thousands of years old, and there are many things that happen there that we new Gora people can't imagine. For example, don't you know that beneath the Crystal Palace there is another sealed palace where mages and women who were picked up from the stream of time and sealed away long ago are still alive, guarding the holy remains of Aldross the Great of Paro. And you whispered to me that whoever sits on the throne of Paro must at least once go down to the sealed palace in the depths of the earth and have a talk with the mummy of Aldross the Great? No, it is true that Paro was not to be trifled with!"

"Are you saying that this series of demons is the fault of none other than our lord, Grand Duke Vlad, who, before the other two lords, razed the Crystal City to the ground in fire and bloodshed?"

"It's just that, if that's all, I'm rather lucky--"

 As he was about to continue speaking, he suddenly felt a searing whip pain in his shoulder and jumped up.

 He turned in a panic, saw Captain Cain glaring at him angrily from his horse, and fell flat on his face.

"Whoever seduces a man's heart with false words will find himself face to face with the mouth of the Kes with bare hands."

 Cain yelled in a sharp voice.

"Be mindful, others, and put flour in your ears rather than listen to fanciful gossip."

 He glances in all directions, kicks the horse in the side and leaves the fire.

 The knights fell silent for a moment.

 But then, someone suddenly shouted and pointed upwards.

"Look!"

 People looked up.

 And then, just as I had done earlier when I found the sky filled with angel hair, I gasped with a sharp sound.

 While they were talking, the wind blew into the night sky and swept away the curtain of white silk that had filled it.

"Oh--!"

 I hear someone whispering low. The sky was clear.

 The milky-white depths of the past are gone, replaced by violets and a blue night sky, high above their heads.

 That wasn't all. Strangely enough, the cleansing wind that blew through her angel hair seemed to have dispelled the sticky, unholy heaviness peculiar to the night of Nosferus.

The sky is clear, there's a breeze blowing, and--

"The stars are ...."

 The knights look up in silence.

 The starry skies of Nosferus are seldom seen, for they are somewhat obscured by the heavy clouds which are peculiar to the place, and for this reason it should have been called the print of Dole, where not even the light of the stars can penetrate. But now, above their heads, the flickering stars were unmistakable.

 The astrologers say that the shape of the stars, and even their positions, have been so distorted and altered since time immemorial that they cannot be regarded as the same. But to the people of this age, the positions of the stars are their familiar guides.

 There are two stars that stand out from the rest: the light-weak one, and the giant red star of the god of war, which is decorated with various legends and teachings.

 One of them was the Polar Star, commonly called the North Star, the polar bear star that guided the sailors and whose position had not been changed since time immemorial. Its clever light seemed to measure, judge, and mock the folly of mortal men in their fate.

 And the other was the star of the east. In the east of Canaan, in the ancient mountain range of Canaan, black with miasma and silent at the edge of the wilderness, shrouded in mystery and legend, at the edge of a mountain in the shape of a sleeping lion, flickered the star of dawn, Marinium, shining with a high, white, subtle, but unmistakable light.

 If the northern star, the Polar Star, was the lighthouse of the gods to guide men in their peaceful voyage, it was the single eye of Yarn itself, which with unclouded eyes, uninfluenced by anything, invites and rejects the earth. That is why people also call the Star of Dawn the Eye of Yarn.

 The stars shone in the night sky, and the hearts of the Knights of Mongol and their prisoners were softened. They listened to the sacred music of the stars, and felt soothed and forgiven. It was, perhaps, a moment of calm before the storm. For a moment, the people forgot the darkness of the night in the frontier, and even the anxiety of being outside Janus' peaceful map.

 The lady's tent is quiet and the lights are out.

 At the bottom of that same night, there is a shadow that does not sleep, but quietly moves about.

 The shadow was slender and tall. He wore armor and carried a sword, but he made no sound at all, even as he crawled along the hard rocky ground. He is as supple and unflappable as the water snakes of Dunedin.

 Their shadows had begun to appear in the vicinity in an unobtrusive manner from the time when the group of noblewomen had set off after folding their tents in the early morning.

 Of course, they do not make a mistake that would be taken unawares. When there was a rock, he would hide behind it; when there was sand as far as the eye could see, he would lie down on the ground without hesitation; and when the sun was high in the sky, he would follow with such caution that he could barely keep out of sight of it, but as the sun set and darkness fell, his work became much easier.

 But once he got too close for his own good, and was nearly caught unawares. Captain Astorias, a handsome young nobleman of Torus birth, who led a party of shinobi, was always on the lookout for signs of something strange following him as he rode back to the rear of the column. In the last glimmer of the setting sun, the armor's clasp glinted brightly.

 The dark haired, dark eyed young officer's beautiful face was filled with doubt, and he raised the whip in his hand,

"What the hell was that?"

 I asked no one.

"I don't see anything, sir," he said.

"No, I'm sure--

 Asturias felt a heavy responsibility as a Shinigari. For a moment, he wondered if he should turn the horse over to see if it would work, but then,

"Whoa!"

"It's the gluttonous bitguy eater!"

 I could hear the commotion from the front.

"What's wrong!"

 Immediately, Asturias took advantage of the horse, and concentrated all his attention on keeping his ranks undisturbed, so that the minute glow, which might have been an optical illusion, was completely forgotten. And after that, there was the usual Angel Hair fuss.

 By the time it was over, the fire had been lit, and the people were ready for the night, the day was long gone, and suspicious figures could easily move about.

 He was dressed in black, so that in broad daylight he would have stood out like a black worm on a blank sheet of paper in the rocky terrain, but once darkness enveloped the area, he would have gone unnoticed by the Mongols who had taken up fire.

 Istvan - needless to say, it was the Valakian Istvan - still had not given up the habit of mumbling in his mouth.

Goodness gracious. The Doll's 13 ugly daughters, oh, my! What is it with those angel hair? Mongaur's men must have been astonished. I'm even more astonished. I've never heard or seen anything like it. I wondered what would happen. But... well... now I have another curious story to tell my grandchildren when I'm old enough to sit on the stone steps outside my house with my mouth open.

 Oh, thank goodness we all got tired of all that ruckus and fell asleep in shifts. At this rate-- oh, by the light of the Eye of Yarn overlooking Canaan to the east, this tent is where the captain, the commander, and the white knight from before are. What the hell was that thing? Maybe it was just the light, but it was a young-looking knight with golden hair that looked like it was about to burst.

 The main captains among the White Knights are Count Vron, Baron Rindt, and among the younger ones, Liath, Arion, and Lenz-- Sir Arion. That's about it. But it's odd: ...

 Well, that's not the point. Oops--that was close.

 The mercenary, muttering to himself to cheer himself up, gradually approached the tent to scout out the situation, but at that time, he heard the whispering of what appeared to be a sentry unexpectedly close by, so he panicked and ducked down, completely blending in with the darkness and killing even the presence of others. .

"You've done a terrible thing."

 What was heard was a hoarse voice with a strong frontier accent.

"You're a prisoner of war, you're a child..."

"I don't know what you're thinking that we can't..."

"You'll be tortured in the castle anyway, but that's not the same as--"

"I'll give up if it means I get put on the torture wheel a little sooner. But it's a shame, that little girl is quite a sight. She's still got the body of a child, but she's got the skin of a royal and she's quite good-looking. To have her limbs crushed by a wheeled platform so recklessly..."

"Shh!"

 At that time, there was a sound of the entrance to the tent being lifted up.

"Well, good night, sir.

 A thick man's voice was added. And then a youthful, somehow dignified voice,

"Then be ready to set out at sunrise. By now the first horses will have entered the defensive wall of Kes and will be ready to meet the welcoming party in the morning. Until then, keep your heads up.

 Especially Lint!"

"is."

"Keep watch over the prisoners, lest they hold their tongues."

"I understand."

"Asturias!"

"is."

"Tomorrow morning, you'll take over the rear guard with Cain's troop and put them in the middle. It's hard on the nerves to keep them in the back."

"No, that kind of--" "Yes, sir."

 A young voice with a faintly disconcerting tone is heard at last, and the curtain is lowered again.

 Istvan stretched out his head to get a better look at the owner of the voice, who seemed to be very used to giving orders. He crawled out of the tent to take a peek. When I had seen him earlier in the day, from the top of a high cliff, I had been unable to discern his form. However, there was something arrogant in his dignified voice and the way he spoke, something that irritated the young Valakian mercenary and aroused his urge to see his face and appearance.

The Red Mercenary raises himself up slowly and begins to spread the tent's panels to both sides. There was a low voice speaking inside. Then..,

"Oh--"

 Istvan almost shouted out reflexively, and covered his mouth in a panic.

 He noticed that there was a disgusting looking thing stuck to his hand. It was a fuzzy, phosphorescent, disgusting sand-sand worm-meat, with a ring-shaped, disgusting mouth, as if it was angry that the thing it was sucking was so hard that it could not suck up its blood no matter how much it sucked. The small red eyes beneath its mouth seem to be gazing at Istvan with the relentless malice that only a creature created by a doll can possess.

"Wow, that's creepy."

 It was so small that it had just been born as a sandworm, so it was harmless, but the horror of its shape and the unpleasantness of the squishy little thing threatening him with its head made the mercenary reflexively brush it off and crush it with a crunch. He did not know fear to the extent that he was called a demon warrior, but to be honest, he was a little weak against slugs and leeches. He shuddered and tried to get rid of the horrible feeling he felt even through his boots on the soles of his feet when he crushed them.

 That's why I've been a little careless.

"Who are you?"

 At the sound of the sentry's sharp voice and the sign that he was coming towards him, he panicked, abandoned his ambition to look into the master of the tent, and fled to safety.

 He didn't seem any more suspicious than he already was, so the sentry decided it was just his imagination and waited for him to leave. But the moment was not in vain. Because as he lay there on the rock breathing heavily, the Red Mercenary suddenly thought of the trick he had been looking for.

 It was a somewhat unpleasant idea, and he didn't want to do it if he could help it. But he couldn't let that stop him. Soon the sun god Lure's chariot would make its first hoofbeats in the eastern sky.

"The goddamn dollar.

 He shuddered and muttered.

"If things go well, I'll put the fifty-thousand-tad gold sack of Igrek, god of wealth, on you and hold the Paro twins to ransom for a million runs."

 Still mumbling and cursing his own bad luck, he went back to the desert of Nosferus to look for what he had come for.

 It was about a year later.

 Suddenly, the knights of Mongol, who had begun to believe that the night had apparently passed without incident, were startled by a tremendous scream.

"Help me! It's the Sand Sand Worm! The Sand Worm is chasing us!"

"Where is it!"

"It's a sandworm!"

 Immediately, the whole camp was in a beehive of excitement. The confusion and panic became insurmountable as the pale, gnarled sandworms of tremendous size, undaunted by fire, grabbed the fleeing knights and ravaged the unlucky sacrifices with their blood-sucking mouths.

 The Sandworm of Nosferus is the worst of all the vicious monsters in the wilderness. For this lowly creature has no sense of pain, and even if you poke it or break it up, it will always wiggle around as long as you don't crush it to pieces or crush its primitive brain to shreds. It will always be wiggling without a care in the world.

"Help me!"

"Protect the tent!"

 Screams and shouts filled the area, the horses roared and scrambled wildly, and the knights ran about in panic and panic.

"Your Highness, we're in danger. Evacuate!"

"Not important . Bring the crossbowmen forward! I'm in command!"

 In the midst of the panic, the fires were extinguished and smoldering, and no one noticed that the armor was different in color from red and black, while soldiers wearing armor that at first glance looked like Gora's approached the prisoners.

 Only one of them tried to complain about the mercenary who ran up to him and suddenly cut off the rope of a prisoner tied to a rock with his sword,

"The captain's orders are to move you to a safe place!"

 I nodded when he shouted that at me with a pale face.

"Do you need help?"

"This is good. Get that thing out of here! Look, we got another one down!"

 Istvan's voice was rumbling, but he did not need to feign panic. For he had indeed run and run and run at full speed in his heartfelt panic as he searched for the sandworm's hole in the desert and lured it here to feed on himself.

"Shit! I'm really, really not going to help anyone ever again! Not on Janus' two damned fucking necks!"

 Istvan cut the rope of Guin, who stared at him without saying a word, and, handing over the dagger, he rasped in a stifled voice.

 Without a word from the twins or Guin, the rope was cut and they were set free. They ran inconspicuously to the other side of the camp, where there was great confusion, and Istvan and Guin caught the running horse and put the twins in front of them one by one.

"East," said Guin.

"Hi-ho!"

 The mercenary ranted and kicked the horse in the side as hard as he could.

 When the horse began to gallop like a madman,

"The prisoner has escaped!"

 Someone's screams followed me from behind!