Chapter 58 - 5-9
Yugis Necrat had been visiting the masters who handled mercenaries even before he met Ludo Matinee. The results were futile. Nowhere would they welcome Yugis into a mercenary band. He wasn't even allowed to meet the masters.
Once he became able to understand the Enagamo language, he could grasp the situation a bit better.
"We're in no position for that right now."
"The master isn't here."
The slaves of Koroi would say such things and send Yugis away.
—Should I move to another town?
While he was thinking such things, he learned the name of a Siddim painter through town rumors and visited Ludo Matinee. Matinee was a man with a round face from whom kindness seeped out. He told Yugis he could eat and sleep in his room until his affiliation was decided. Yugis gratefully accepted his care.
From the next day, he devised a plan and visited mercenary bands one by one. Although the results were not encouraging, he worked at it persistently.
On that day, Yugis spent nearly an entire day heading toward the estate of Master Acserei, located on the outskirts of town. Koroi was a frighteningly vast city. He finally arrived after noon, and when he peeked into the front yard of the estate, things seemed strange. Several sturdy backs, typical of mercenaries, were standing there. When he spoke to one of them, he was told that Master Acserei had been killed last night.
"Here too, huh,"
Yugis muttered instinctively. He had been told the same thing at the mercenary band he visited yesterday.
"You're in the way, brat,"
someone said, pushing him around the shoulder. Looking, he saw a thin man with a bald head.
"What's this, here too?"
The thin man said this and looked down at Yugis. "Oh, you were at Master Danya's place, weren't you?"
"Yes. I came here after hearing that Master Danya had passed away. What is happening?"
"I'm the one who wants to know. Also, the only decent mercenary band left is Master Jeto's."
"Is it far?"
"No, it's right behind here."
The thin bald head looked at Yugis's face and suddenly started running. With a shout of surprise, Yugis also ran and overtook the man. A line had formed at Master Jeto's estate.
Yugis leisurely took his place at the end of the line. The bald man arrived out of breath.
"Hey, this is terrible. Move it."
"I refuse."
As they glared at each other, the man in front of Yugis spoke. "You two are mistaken. We belong to the Jeto Mercenary Band."
Upon hearing the story, it seemed Master Jeto was retiring. Since he was closing the business, the Jeto mercenaries were simply forming a line to receive their final pay.
"Let's go. I can't handle this without grabbing a cold drink."
Following the bald man, it was a tavern, just as expected.
The two took a table in the corner.
"I am Yugis."
"Does a guy like you even have a name?" The bald man didn't even try to hide his displeasure. "I'm Petu. I was with Master Santo, but the master was killed too. That was two months ago. The master's son succeeded him, which is all well and good, but he's a completely incompetent youth. So I bolted."
A young woman with dark skin brought the drinks. It seemed the south had food to spare; if one had silver coins, they could get mountains of meat and fish. The drink was beer, and the quality wasn't bad.
"The masters are the ones who manage the mercenaries, right? They're being killed surprisingly easily."
"Skilled assassins are prowling around, see."
"What kind of people, and for what purpose?"
"How the hell should I know? Might be Jahy believers, might be the people from the Dagger Party. Regardless, the ones behind it are Kosa people."
Yugis looked at Petu's face.
"I hear the Kosa people are fighting. I've heard it might become another long civil war."
"Yeah, apparently they've split into Kutai and Ishma once again. Do you know the king of this country?"
"No."
"Emperor Abinail of Koroi-sama. There's talk that the Emperor is pouring funds into Kutai to incite internal strife, but it won't become a civil war. Kosa is doing the final touches."
"I can't stand it," Yugis laughed.
"What is?"
"You. You're surprisingly knowledgeable. Tell me what that means. What are the final touches of the Kosa people?"
"Those guys, in the process of establishing their own country, kill off the military commanders who contributed to the effort. They crush anyone among their comrades who has the ambition to stand on their own, nipping the buds of betrayal. However, if comrades are bickering among themselves, foreign powers behind them will start acting up. Especially this Koroi. To prevent Koroi from sticking its nose in, they're using someone to quickly throw the mercenaries into confusion."
"I see," Yugis was impressed. "Either Kutai or Ishma is making a move against Koroi to stall them."
"Or some power wagging its tail for Kosa. The Kosa people don't trust Koroi anymore. The south stuck its nose too far into the affairs of the grassland people. They won't be able to settle the score unless they have a war."
"Which means, it'll become a war."
"It will."
Petu raised his cup, and Yugis responded with a toast.
Yugis had something in mind. Petu surely felt the same. It would likely become a great war. For mercenaries, it was time to earn.
The information exchanged between Petu and Yugis was not correct. Kosa had not split into a Kutai faction and an Ishma faction. However, it was a fact that among the Kosa people who joined Geraha, there were many soldiers from the Ishma faction. Geraha based himself in Parakitai in the southern part of the Kandasyata plateau. Parakitai falls into the Ishma faction.
Visiting the clans distributed in Parakitai in order, Geraha Wolf lived by making himself a guest in the tents of each tribal chief. While moving in such a manner, he supervised those engaged in nyuzei (T/N: entering the discourse).
Nyuzei was a political activity of dispatching people to various regions to move the public through the power of rhetoric. In Kosa, this was mostly carried out by old men.
The things they asserted were not many.
"Sinkuk killed my innocent father and brother. He must be the one who killed the tribal chief as well."
"How can a country be founded in such a manner?"
"Long peace is achieved only by demonstrating military might. If one harbors a history of injustice, it invites attacks from the enemy. If that injustice is exploited, Kosa will crumble and scatter once again."
Simply by sending personnel to give such sermons, Geraha's influence grew.
However, at a certain point, the increase in allies stopped abruptly.
Sinkuk had deployed a counter-argument.
Synthesizing the stories of the old men who returned from the sermons, it seemed Sinkuk had devised the following claims.
"Tenge Wolf betrayed the army. He left the army without listening to the general's orders. There are witnesses to this."
"Geraha Wolf also betrayed Kosa and allied with the Tawaru. It was Geraha who led the Tawaru army. Geraha was treated as a guest in a Tawaru vassal territory. There are witnesses to these facts as well."
"I suspect that they were the ones who killed the tribal chief. Did those brothers not also lay hands on their own father?"
Upon learning the full extent of the counter-argument, Geraha gasped. For the elder brother Sinkuk, this could be called a very passive response.
"This is a victory,"
"Do you think so?"
The old man in charge of persuading the tribal chiefs spoke with a suspicious voice.
"I believe it seems reasonably logical."
"I didn't ally with the Tawaru. The Tawaru submitted to me. No, that doesn't matter. That my brother left the army, or more so that there are witnesses, that is far too detailed. He is not speaking of the way of governance. I am speaking of the future of Kosa."
"The people will not move then. Everyone does not want to be deceived. When verifying where the truth lies, the details become important."
—And besides.
The old man continued. Geraha-sama is also appealing the injustice of Sinkuk.
If that is the case, it is necessary to clearly show which one is the liar.
—I see.
Geraha thought there was some truth to that.
"Which clan offered the greatest resistance?"
"I believe it is Rajif's clan. They throw stones."
"Then I shall go there and try speaking to them directly."
"No, no. That is dangerous. How about Sewalt's clan? They seem unable to decide which side to join."
"Those who are indecisive are troublesome. A chief who can make a decision is better."
"Hmm. If that is the case. Someone like Sewalt will likely lean toward the stronger side even if left alone... I understand. Let us go. I will prepare immediately."
Accompanied by several old men in charge of persuasion and about ten riders as guards, he headed toward the Rajif clan. The horse Geraha rode was the giant horse presented by the Tawaru King.
It had been named Kazahana by one of the tribal chiefs who had sided with Geraha.
The Rajif clan's dwelling place had no sign of people even from a distance, as if rejecting all discussion. Although Geraha rode in majestically on the giant horse, he felt disheartened inwardly.
—Being greeted with stone-throwing would still mean there's a pulse.
He visited the tribal chief's tent with the old men.
The tribal chief, Patai Rajif, was said to be suffering from a long illness, and was terribly thin and small. His breathing was labored. He was likely over fifty. He looked up at Geraha with a gaze that seemed to burn through his life.
Setting aside himself, Geraha explained that he had not betrayed.
He noticed as he began explaining. His words lacked persuasiveness. It was a fact that he had been easily defeated by Kushitante's army. Afterward, wanting to watch over the passing of his brother Astai, he had taken actions that looked nothing but suspicious from the outside. The soldiers, including Radoba, who could prove Geraha's words, were already gone.
He had lost his own biological brother before his eyes. However, that did not mean his brother Tenge had not betrayed Sinkuk; rather, it even supported Sinkuk's claim. If Tenge Wolf was killed, then the betrayal must have been true.
Before he knew it, Geraha was speaking while breaking into a heavy sweat.
"If I had allied with Kushitante, why would I—my own army—"
"Enough," Patai Rajif said, his breath ragged like a bellows. "Could you leave me alone with Geraha-dono?"
Geraha nodded to the old men.
Once they had cleared out, the tribal chief began to speak.
"Geraha-dono, why did you suddenly call yourself the Great King? Upon hearing Sinkuk-sama call himself the Great King, did you desire that position?"
"Absolutely not."
"Then why?"
"It is simply that the time has come."
"Even so, why? Had you not always disliked it?"
Patai Rajif's both eyes were shining intensely. Geraha lowered his face.
"Obvious injustice was carried out before my very eyes."
"And? Geraha-dono, you are not gathering soldiers simply because you wish for revenge against Sinkuk-sama, are you?"
He struck a sore spot.
—What should I say?
Geraha fell silent. He tried to organize his thoughts, but they wouldn't organize; he searched for words, but couldn't find them. Instead, a sigh escaped.
"Is it not allowed, Patai-dono? I had no interest in being a Great King. I did not even believe what my brother said. However, regarding my brother's death, I intend to obsess over it for the rest of my life."
"Is this not a private feud?"
"If a fight for my brother is called a private feud, then so be it."
"Will you strike down Great King Sinkuk for a personal matter? I cannot lend my strength."
"Do not misunderstand, Patai-dono,"
Geraha said. Even if he wasn't understood, he wanted to say this.
"There is such a thing as the Great King. That Great King drove Sinkuk mad, and drove my brother mad. Do not think that I am dreaming of the seat of the Great King welcoming me with open arms. The seat of the Great King—such a thing. Could it possibly support this large body? I do not believe in such a thing, from the start. From the top of my head."
Without realizing it, Geraha was venting years of anger.
He pressed forward as if the man before him were the source of his resentment.
"I will swallow the thing called the Great King. I will swallow it. I'll crush it with these jaws. I'll let it dissolve in my stomach. That is it, Patai-dono. That is my revenge. My brother's spirit is wandering the earth. I will swallow the red star whole. I'll spit it out, trample it, and eat it again. With that, my brother's hesitation will be cleared."
"W-what do you mean?" Tribal Chief Patai looked up at Geraha with his mouth open.
"It means that I will become the Great King. The Great King itself."
The tribal chief kept his mouth open for a while. Eventually, he coughed two or three times.
"You seem serious," Patai Rajif placed both hands on the mat and prostrated himself. "I do not fully understand, but perhaps those were the words I wanted to hear. I humbly entrust my clan to you."
The Amta River apparently has its source in the coniferous forest zone at the foot of the mountains, the northern limit of the plateau.
Spouting clear streams and branching out like leaf veins, it moistens Kandasyata.
About half a month had passed since the meeting between Geraha and Patai Rajif.
Meira Wolf came alone to the riverbank she always used for laundry. It was evening. There was a nondescript stone that looked like a rabbit, and Meira flipped that stone every time she did laundry. That evening, she flipped it and found a mark. It was a branch of fir, which does not grow around here. Meira counted the leaves and calculated the meeting time.
About four days later, Meira waited for midnight and slipped out of the tent.
Since it was close, she did not use a horse. The moon was close to full, and the grassland was white and bright as far as the eye could see.
A man was lying in the shadow of a small hill. He was Groza, the liaison connecting Meira and the Church. He was a sturdy, sun-burned man. He raised his body upon seeing Meira.
"Things have become quite terrible, haven't they," he said, without even a greeting.
Meira sat down near Groza. "Yes."
"Can your husband win? I hear Geraha has already advanced his troops to the edge of the Kutai faction's territory."
"Several clans have defected. Groza, the power of the Church is needed."
"Yeah, I know. Leave it to me."
Groza took out a flute from the bag slung across his shoulder. The reason she thought the rod-like object was a flute was because Groza put the end of the rod to his mouth.
Groza pointed the tip of the tubular flute straight at Meira. When she saw the round hole pointed at her and realized it was a blowgun, she felt a pain in her left breast.
It was too sudden; Meira could not avoid it.
"You don't have to worry," Groza said while putting away the blowgun. "You betrayed the Church, but the Church does not betray you. Why did you think you could escape?"
The pain spread with a momentum that seemed to exceed the contours of Meira's body, like a wildfire, accompanied by heat. Along with the spread of pain, there was a numbing sensation.
"The Great King chosen by the stars is not Sinkuk. It's Geraha. You knew that, didn't you? The Bishop of Siddim was grieving. —Well, now that it's come to this. It's a pity. I'll bury you in the way of the Roma faith. We've known each other a long time, after all."
The primal fear that the pain showed no sign of subsiding, but rather was increasing. A fear exceeding that attacked Meira. The fear of after death. The fear of sin planted by the Church.
—I cannot escape.
Beyond the despair of her own death, there was still more despair. That she would be liberated from everything by death was a naive prospect. The Church would chase her. It would haunt her.
Meira let out a voice. The voice was hoarse and did not become words.
Groza brought his ear close to the fallen Meira.
"The last..." Meira said desperately. "I have one last curse. I curse all the Roma believers."
"You mean the daughter," this time Groza brought his mouth to Meira's ear. "Your daughter is obedient and excellent. She is deeply devoted to our teachings. She has already found work in Koroi and handled things beautifully."
There was not much Meira could do.
Immediately, she thrust a dagger into the area of Groza's side. She had no confidence that she had done it well.
"Isn't this wonderful?" Groza had a surprised expression. "Will you invite me on a tour of hell? Meira, if I can die with you, it is my heart's desire. Let us enjoy the kalpa-fire in the next world."
Groza pulled out the dagger himself.
Lukewarm blood spurted out, soaking the area around Meira's stomach. Groza collapsed over her and died easily.
—No joke.
If they died together, it would be mistaken for a lovers' suicide. Meira struggled. Or rather, she tried to struggle. She wanted to crawl on the ground and get away from Groza even a little. She would go to the paradise of the Kosa people. A heaven where birds are. The birds are actually clever and never speak on earth. They only chatter in the land of giant birds above the clouds. Spirits and the dead hear stories of the earth from the birds and rejoice or worry.
Groza's corpse was as heavy as a gravestone.
Meira cried out of misery. Eventually, her body stopped moving. If she could hold on until dawn, she might be able to hear the voices of the small birds. She didn't feel like she could hold on. Something inside her was shrinking. Dawn was infinitely far away.