Chapter 19: The Knight of the Mist Bridge

The river in front of the village was wider than it had looked from afar.

It must have rained recently; the water level was high and the current strong.

“No chance they’ll dive into the river and run.”

“Yes. That seems unlikely.”

“Can you block the bridge?”

Samete examined the bridge.

It was wide enough for two covered wagons to pass side by side.

He looked between me and the village, then nodded.

“Water on all sides — I think we can do something.”

“Just stop whoever tries to escape. I’ll go in.”

“It will be difficult alone. Once the sun rises, the serfs will be let out to graze the horses. Why not lure them away first?”

“We’re leaving after we finish the suppression. The serfs will have to live seeing the village’s taxman and knights forevermore. They won’t give in easily.”

Samete nodded.

I checked the blade one last time.

It was still sturdy and sharp as frost.

The wave-patterned steel, made by the house smith, had not lost its edge despite being used to strike rock.

“This time I’ll be gentle.”

I apologized to my beloved sword, tightened my uniform, and crossed the bridge.

The plank gave a creak.

Even after crossing, I couldn’t see far into the basin.

A thick mist rose from the river and hung over the area.

But that lack of visibility worked to my advantage.

A knight’s life in this world was to hide until the moment he drew his blade.

“Let’s go.”

When we crossed the bridge, a pasture came into view.

The air smelled of grass and beasts.

A gravel road ran straight from the bridge, flanked by fences on either side.

Something moved beyond the gravel path.

“Stop!”

A deep shout and the thunder of hooves sounded.

“I am Lersus, knight of Henestion. Who comes to Henestion at this hour?”

He wore a thin breastplate and rode a brown charger.

A coiled whip hung from his left arm; copper nuts were tightly fixed along its length.

If it struck bare flesh, it would tear the flesh in one blow.

At his right hip hung a hand-axe slightly shorter than my sword.

As a village knight, he seemed to carry tools as well as weapons.

“I come from the main house. Guide me to the Henestion noble.”

I spoke as if ignorant of taxes or executions.

Less blood was better.

“From the main house? You mean Intezeruto?”

The knight who had introduced himself as Lersus stammered from his mount.

“Yes. I come by order of the House head. Do you require proof of bloodline?”

“No, that’s not necessary.”

The knight bowed as if addressing someone from the clouds.

“Then what brings you down to this countryside?”

“That’s none of your concern. Escort me.”

I left the rest unsaid and continued walking.

He drew his hand-axe from his hip in a nervous little movement, which I watched out of the corner of my eye.

Riding up to my left, Lersus raised his hand-axe and brought it crashing down.

He clearly wanted blood.

“I meant to spare you.”

Logically, the main house would not meddle in every small village.

They would punish the taxman, the ringleader, and leave the rest.

If this was their choice, I would honor it.

I pivoted on my left foot, drew my sword, and cut upward.

With a scrape, the hand-axe flew from his grasp.

“Aaaah!”

Hearing the scream tear through the dawn air, I muttered coldly, “You chose this.”

Raving, Lersus lifted the whip in his left hand.

Screeeech!

The copper whip fell with a terrible sound.

For a country knight, he had some nerve.

I raised my left arm to block the whip.

Clang-clang-clang, the steel gauntlet and whip collided with a loud metallic chorus.

The spinning whip wrapped around my arm and then came crashing down toward my brow.

I slashed my forearm as if to deflect the blade and slipped the whip aside.

A sting at my ear where the whip grazed me brought a hot flush of regeneration.

“Pureblood?”

Lersus cried in horror from his mount.

I pushed off the ground and lunged.

He reared the whip again, but I was faster.

A deep, deliberate stab drove my sword through his flank.

He fell from his horse, foam flecking his mouth.

The riderless horse reared and bolted; I seized the reins and vaulted up.

“Ho!”

I had learned riding well enough from Dande.

The key was to convey your intent to the horse in the rhythm of its pace.

When it resisted, tighten the reins; when it complied, loosen them.

“Move.”

A light kick to its flank made the horse snort and accelerate.

At the same time, a chorus of neighing rose from beyond the mist-cleared portion of the village.

I looked back and shouted to Samete, “Samete! They’re coming. Hold them well!”

The gravel road that bisected the pasture wasn’t very wide.

That made the eight mounted men kicking up dust in the distance easy to spot.

Six carried copper whips; two were Henestion officers wielding thin long cutlasses.

The magic used by a provincial noble like that would be comparable to a young noble’s, or perhaps weaker.

But their years of experience made their skill incomparable, so complacency would be fatal.

“Ho!”

I let my sword droop to one side and spurred for speed.

One knight pushed his mount and took the lead.

“Why do you keep coming to this village!”

I pulled the reins and steered my horse to collide with the knight.

The spooked horse tried to veer away, but each time it turned I shortened the reins and nullified its movement.

My and the knight’s horses grazed as we crossed.

A copper whip, more than three meters long, fell like a meteor.

I clung close to the horse’s neck to avoid the lash and slashed upward with my blade.

My sword struck the leather between the copper nuts — about two finger-widths — with a thud and delivered a recoil like striking tempered steel.

The section of whip snapped and flew through the air.

“Damn!”

The disarmed knight charged not at us but straight for Samete.

“Not good.”

Another knight rushed in immediately.

I kept my mount tight to his.

At the crossing, instead of cutting the man I cut deep into the neck of his horse.

“This— this bastard!”

The knight screamed and collapsed to the ground with the momentum of his charge.

I was getting used to finding my balance atop the horse.

“I could push harder.”

The third knight brought his copper whip down.

We were still out of reach of my blade.

At that instant I dug my right foot into the stirrup, shifted my weight to the right, and hung on with only the toe of my left foot hooked in the saddle.

The knight who saw me did not believe his eyes.

The saddle beneath me was shredded where the whip struck.

At the same moment I sliced the knight’s leg with my sword.

Crunch—the hard bone cut cleanly.

The off-balance knight fell to the ground.

The fourth rider who had closed in hurled his hand-axe.

I was back in the saddle and dodged the flying axe as it sliced through the wind.

In that instant the whip lashed across my brow.

Smack, my vision washed white.

“How dare you!”

I squeezed my eyes, covered my face with my left hand, and gripped the sword tightly.

The loud thunder of hooves was still audible even with my eyes closed.

He was coming from my right.

I pulled the reins and brought my horse over to the right.

Hooves sounded right beside me and the whip rose.

I flashed the blade and struck like lightning.

“Arrgh!”

A bone-cleaving sensation ran along the sword.

Through squinted lids I saw the knight clutching his shoulder and fall.

My sight returned.

This opponent was an officer — instead of a whip, he held a long thin cutlass.

“Intezeruto!”

He shouted his accusation with hatred.

The next moment a blue light flashed from his hand.

Three gusts of wind shot like crossbow bolts.

His speed in converting mana into magic was far beyond these provincial lads.

I angled my sword to block.

Crack, the wind struck the broad blade and split apart, streaming along the sword’s wide surface.

My wrist tingled, but I stopped two of the wind bolts.

The officer’s eyes widened in surprise.

But the third gust wasn’t aimed at me from the start.

A horse struck by the wind lost a foreleg.

Horses are fast, but magic is faster.

Now I understood why cavalry hadn’t developed here.

I ground my teeth and rose from the falling horse’s back.

“Why are you embezzling taxes and making such a fuss!”

I dropped my knees and launched toward the officer, vaulting from the saddle.

The recoil made the horse’s spine collapse like a crumpling post.

I flew like a bird and pointed my sword at the officer.

He recoiled and thrust his long cutlass at me.

I laughed and pushed my chest forward, presenting my breastplate like a shield.

No cutlass, even one meant for command, could pierce armor that even a knight’s blade could not.

Clang, the officer’s cutlass slid off the breastplate and away.

I seized the momentum of his fall and drove my sword into him.

“No, no!”

Thrust!

The thin breastplate buckled like a wooden plank and my sword pierced his flank.

I then shoulder-barged him.

He tumbled from his horse, rolled across the gravel, and spat out a curse.

“Ugh!”

The pursuing officer pulled his reins and turned his mount.

They galloped along the gravel road back toward the rear of the village.

“What, what was that?”

Did they retreat?

One knight had raced past me for Samete, and the last knight stopped in front of me.

I pulled my sword from the officer’s body.

The knight who had stopped dismounted and bowed his head to me.

“I’m sorry! I was blinded by a few coins and made a wrong judgment. Please, do not forgive me.”

At least one man could make a sane decision.

“Sir, your name?”

“Nortenting.”

“Good. Sir Norton-ting. The situation is urgent, so I’ll postpone any punishment. I came here with orders to punish the taxman. Do you know where he is?”

“The officer who just fled is the taxman of this village. He’s from the Henestion family.”

“How many mages does this village have?”

“The Henestion household numbers about twenty; those with real lethal magic are five or six. And they’re split by internal quarrels.”

“How many knights?”

“Those with commendable blood total over seventy, but those who are trained are about twenty.”

Why so many?

For a moment I was taken aback and remembered that the Henestion family was a line diluted in blood.

As a class, their knights had repeatedly intermarried with red-blood commoners until the blue blood had thinned to the point of losing magic.

That explained why more knights came from a weaker-blooded house than from a house of deep blood.

“Are the serfs rallied together?”

“No. When they heard the rumor that the Henestion family was embezzling taxes, they were all afraid.”

Good.

At least we wouldn’t face thousands of peasant soldiers as enemies.

“Sir Nortenting.”

“Yes.”

“It’s fortunate that you’ve seen whose side to be loyal to even now.”

I prepared a carrot to throw him.

“If we punish Henestion, the Helicion family will send a governor or branch off an elder to be the next collateral head.”

“Yes, yes.”

Nortenting looked puzzled as to why I was telling him this.

“What I mean is, someone will need to manage this village until then. But we cannot entrust it to the criminal’s relatives.”

Hope and bewilderment washed across his face.

He looked as if he could scarcely believe it.

“I am thinking of recommending you for that role. Serve as an aide when the governor or collateral branch arrives. Can you do it?”

Nortenting’s eyes brightened.

“I will do my best with any order you give.”

“Good. Then return to the bridge and join Lord Samete. He is a scion of Helicion; it will be good to be seen in his company.”

Nortenting gaped.

As he walked, something suddenly occurred to him and he stared at me with a dawning expression.

“Which house’s scion are you, Lord? Addressing the Helicion scion by name like that… surely you are Temeratision?”