Chapter 22: Stereotypes

Chapter 22: Stereotypes

Gondel swatted away the lance blocking his path, then raised his two-handed greatsword and let out a roar as he swung it down. By this time, the Doomrunner chariot had completed its turn, and the greatsword slammed into the gilt-copper encased steel of the swept-back wing. Having secured two kills, the beastmaster hurriedly dodged backward, watching the missing chariot wing with cold sweat pouring down his face. Had it not been for that lance blocking his way, he might have been decapitated by now.

To the right of the knight whose head had just been struck by a harpoon, another knight began to level his lance, aiming the tip toward the heads of the two-kill beastmaster. But at that moment, the Doomrunner chariot accelerated directly toward them; the lance grazed past the heads of the two-kill beastmaster as the chariot sped toward the rear. The chariot and horse crossed paths, leaving the knight cursing with such overwhelming resentment that even the beastmaster, who could not understand Bretonnian, could feel it clearly.

The beastmaster on the left shouted to his comrade.

"Don't just stand there like an idiot, shoot!"

He then aimed his harpoon crossbow at the furious knight's back, securing his third kill of the night and taking the lead! The knight's legs gave out; he was no longer angry, but peaceful.

And then, there was no "then." The Doomrunner chariot accelerated to pull away, bypassing a group that was cutting in diagonally.

The knight who had fallen earlier finally clawed through the dirt to pull his leg free. One had to admit that people in this world had incredible constitutions; his leg wasn't even broken under such circumstances. He struggled to stand, but before he could steady himself, he saw the Doomrunner chariot cutting past him. A hunting harpoon was hurled at him; unable to dodge in time, it pierced through his armor and into his chest. Before he could even let out a scream of agony, he was yanked down by the steel chain attached to the harpoon.

The Doomrunner chariot plunged straight into the woods, dragging the knight along with it. The hunting harpoons used by Duruch were specially treated, capable of piercing even the thick scales of beasts, let alone a knight's armor.

"Are you okay?"

"Can you even handle this?"

The beastmaster with three kills said sarcastically.

"You!"

Kallion replied grimly without even looking back, "I really want to kick your ass down. Why didn't that shot earlier just blow your head open?"

The two-kill beastmaster wilted. He didn't dare provoke Kallion. As a fellow beastmaster, he knew Kallion's skills too well. This ability to steer the chariot and achieve instantaneous stops and turns through a shared sensation with the beast was not something everyone possessed—just as there was no second "God of War" for donkey carts in the world. He also knew that in last year's Claw Competition, no matter who stepped up, they couldn't beat Rakas, not even a high-tier beastmaster like Jaeger.

The Doomrunner chariot moved through the forest; under Kallion's command, it moved as if it were a resident of the woods, traversing the terrain as if it were level ground.

The two beastmasters pulled on the steel chains to pull back, lest the captive got stuck in a tree.

"Kallion, this monkey is about to die."

Kallion asked, "Do either of you speak this language?"

"How would we know? That's something the nobility learns."

"Then cut him and get the harpoon back."

Outside the forest, the knights did not rush in recklessly. The twelve high-spirited knights from moments ago were now either demoralized or filled with rage, and only eight remained; the other four had already returned to the embrace of the Lady of the Lake.

The knights' tactics were not flawed, but they could never have imagined that the horses of Bretonnia—famed across the continent, treasures sought by the Empire across the mountains, and the pride of Bretonnia—could not catch that strange chariot. The chariot's speed was consistently a notch higher than theirs, and that single notch, without the assistance of ranged units, had cost them four Kingdom Knights. This was the greatest loss for Lyonsis since the Defense of Goronny. The leading knight did not even know how he would account for this to His Grace, Duchess Hepanis de Lyonsis.

It would be a true marvel if a Bretonnian warhorse could outrun a chariot. Long ago, when the Elven colonists abandoned the Old World to return to Ulthuan, some hid in Athel Loren and the forests of Avelorn, becoming Asrai. A vast number of Elven steeds were left behind; these horses bred with the local forest horses to produce the modern Bretonnian warhorse.

Gondel looked at the leading Kingdom Knight and said cautiously, "My Lord, judging by their attire and equipment, they should be Duruch pirates. Furthermore, only Elven steeds are faster than our horses. I have seen them in the city of Le Anguran before, but their appearance is distinctly different."

"My Lord, there is a beach to the south where that kind of chariot could be brought in after the evening tide. Once the tide recedes at dawn, it will be difficult."

"My Lord."

"My Lord."

"Make a decision!"

The leading Kingdom Knight was paralyzed by the pressure. He looked up at the sky. How could he return in disgrace after four actual Kingdom Knights had fallen in battle? How could he face their families and the Duchess? To put it bluntly, how could he maintain his standing here? Who would listen to him? How would his political enemies frame and attack him? He thought back to his youth, when he had charged single-handedly into a Beastmen horde, hacking them down.

He said firmly, "To the south. Try your best to stall these damn pointy-ears. Our squires will appear at daybreak; we will strike them with thunder then!"

With that, he turned his horse and left.

Gondel followed the leading Kingdom Knight. He believed that everything happening today was a task set by the Lady of the Lake on his quest for the Holy Grail, and he had to complete it to prove his valor. In reality, the Lady of the Lake hadn't given him the time of day.

The other Kingdom Knights looked at each other and also turned their horses to follow.

To reiterate: wolves? Non-existent!

Dacus was no "Black Blade." The ship was parked right there, with the first mate and crew waiting anxiously, and the beach was crowded with small boats.

If the tide receded at dawn, the hidden reefs beneath the sea would be exposed, and the three-masted privateer would have to retreat further out. Transporting the spoils and mounts would become extremely troublesome.

The brothers Dacus and Tacaea hung at the rear of the group, because there was no potion on the poultry or the slaves.

In mid-air, Alisha flew back riding a Dark Pegasus. After landing, she said, "My Lord, no traces of the enemy were found to the east."

"Mhm. Work a bit harder; go fetch the Doomrunner chariot."

Alisha flew off again.

"Want to make a bet?"

Hearing Dacus say this, the brothers' scalps tingled, for they knew how disastrously Captain Dustan Cold-Eye had lost last time because of that female vampire.

During an afternoon drinking session, Rain had finally been unable to resist asking Dacus why he knew it was a vampire. Dacus had said very calmly at the time, "Stereotypes. Because her attire and mannerisms are exactly like a vampire's."

Rain wasn't stupid; he would ask about the vampire, but he wouldn't ask about what happened tonight.

The sound of a longhorn drifted from the distance again, closer this time.

Dacus looked up at the sky. The green night was dissipating, and the light of dawn was approaching. He said indifferently, "If you don't want to bet, fine."

(End of Chapter)