Chapter 87 - Plunderers of the Capital

Once Shan reached the top of the wall, the soldiers made no attempt to stop him. They had lost the will to fight after watching him climb more than twenty meters in mere tens of seconds while wearing plate armor—a feat they could scarcely believe humanly possible.

“Uh, uh...”

“M-move!”

With every steady step Shan took forward, the soldiers before him backed away. A few even tumbled over the railing behind them. From far below came the crack of breaking bones and brief screams.

The only man who attempted any resistance was the commander of the southern wall, who had insulted him with that nonsense about frog eyes.

“Y-you dare!”

Judging by his clothes, he was no ordinary soldier. Perhaps he belonged to a minor branch of some noble family. Surprisingly, unlike the others, he had his hand on his sword, ready to fight. His terrified face suggested less an act of courage than a desperate struggle born of the conviction that Shan would never spare him.

“Hyaaa!”

As the young noble drew his sword with a sound somewhere between a battle cry and a scream, his head flew into the air amid a spray of blood. He had been about as capable as the Steel Lion Legion mercenary Shan had first fought when he was twelve or thirteen.

Having crushed the only resistance, Shan descended the stairs on the inner side of the wall and jerked his chin at the soldiers standing helplessly beside the winch.

“Open it.”

A short while later, Hasra's gates opened, and more than a hundred riders poured through. Watching them, Shan took off his helmet and tapped his head.

“Ah, my head's ringing...”

He had only been struck a few times by stones slightly smaller than his head, yet his skull rang and his shoulders and arms ached. Without the defensive magic on his armor, or if the stones had been large enough to call boulders, he probably could not have endured it.

'Next time, I'd better stop showing off and climb somewhere nobody's guarding.'

As he was thinking this, his Altoan squire Biko brought over Arwin, who had been left near the gate, and offered him the reins. The boy's face, covered in patches of scales, was flushed with excitement.

“Just what I'd expect of you, my liege! I hardly dared believe it, but to think you'd take Hasra so easily...”

“It only worked because there were so few defenders. I doubt I could try that in a proper siege.”

After this casual reply, Shan mounted Arwin and gave orders to the cavalry watching him.

“We head into the city center first! Move out!”

“Yes, sir!”

The citizens of Hasra, who had been hoping the battle would end quickly regardless of whether their departed soldiers won or lost, fled into their homes at the sudden appearance of the cavalry. No city guard dared intervene. Conrad had already taken most of the troops for a battle on which he had staked everything. Barely a hundred soldiers remained in the capital, most of them untrained conscripts. Expecting them to face the hundred and fifty horsemen who had descended on them was asking the impossible.

Shan and his riders felt a peculiar pleasure as they committed the outrage of riding through the heart of a great city—something strictly forbidden by law in every country. It was a mixture of guilt and liberation, the feeling of doing something one ought not to do.

They reached the central square in no time, and Shan gave orders to two of his knights: Yurk, a man of relatively high standing and considerable skill, and the oldest knight accompanying them.

“Baron Rugen, please take the nobles' mansions. Sir Vaska, take the merchants' quarter.”

“Understood!”

“As you command.”

* * *

After assigning about fifty riders to each knight, Shan took the remaining fifty toward the royal palace. Even the royal knights had all marched out with Conrad, leaving barely a dozen guards to defend it. The two guards at the main gate shouted in alarm at the sight of Shan and his horsemen riding toward them.

“How dare you behave so lawlessly before the sacred royal palace...!”

“If you aren't loyal to Conrad, I have no wish to fight you. Stand aside.”

With that command, Shan drew Guardian of the East and leveled it at them. The blood of the southern gate commander dripped from its blade. And it was not just Shan they faced: behind him stood the half-horse archers of Horace, their eyes fierce. No one could reasonably have blamed the guards for retreating. Yet they swallowed hard and leveled their spears.

“Withdraw. We will fulfill our duty.”

“Shoot.”

Everything had to be done as quickly as possible, so Shan abandoned persuasion and ordered the attack. More than a dozen arrows immediately flew from behind him and pierced the guards.

“Urgh...”

They were not wearing knights' plate armor. Even good-quality mail offered little protection against a volley at point-blank range. As Shan passed through the main gate, he thrust his sword into the neck of a guard who still lived, ending his suffering.

Similar scenes repeated several times as they advanced farther inside. Most guards quietly stepped aside, but a few refused to give up and tried to stop the intruders. Each time, blood stained the palace gardens and corridors.

After several clashes, they reached the central palace where the king resided. The half-horse archers looked around, joking among themselves.

“So this is the palace where the king of Pendia lives?”

“Never thought I'd get in like this. I've never even been to the king of Luman's palace...”

“There's no time for chatter. Spread out and collect the spoils! As I warned you, anyone who attacks a civilian who isn't resisting will be severely punished!”

“Yes, sir!”

At Shan's stern rebuke, the briefly relaxed half-horse archers hurried into motion, their expressions tense again.

They were rough men who roamed the desolate grasslands and slept alongside wolves, but they dared not defy this superhuman warrior who scarcely seemed human at all. As a result, they could only lick their lips as the maids fled screaming.

Leaving Biko and Tavera in front of the central palace to manage the accumulating spoils, Shan personally led a dozen or so men to the royal storehouse in its basement. The keeper had long since fled. Its door was made of magical metal, with high-grade magic stones embedded inside to power formidable defensive magic. Even Shan would have had to exhaust himself and recover hundreds of times to break through it with a spirit-infused sword.

“How... are we supposed to open this?”

“Like this.”

Giving a short reply to a squire's half-muttered question, Shan took a tightly sealed glass vial from inside his clothes.

He poured its contents into a small dish beside the door, and it slid open by itself with a rumble. Sherin, who knew both the location of the royal vault and how to open it, had given him her own blood, treated with chemicals to prevent clotting. A storehouse that opened only to royal blood—an old-fashioned method, but a reliable one.

“Ooh!”

The mysterious method of entry raised their expectations, but only briefly. Once inside, their faces fell.

“Uh...”

“This is the royal storehouse?”

Contrary to their expectations of magnificent treasures filling every corner, the royal storehouse was mostly full of what appeared to be empty storage cases. There were still plenty of gold coins, a few worthwhile ornaments, and rare magical metals, but it fell short of their hopes in many ways. Seeing their bewilderment, Shan explained what Sherin had told him.

“Apparently, there used to be plenty of powerful magical devices for combat, but Conrad probably handed them all out to his knights.”

“Ah...”

“And a lot of the gold in here was spent on the war.”

Conrad, who could have opened this door long ago, would hardly have left its contents untouched. Though, if Shan remembered correctly, Elvin had stolen the most important items—the king of Pendia's crown and scepter—when he fled with the king.

Their disappointment soon passed. Shan and the squires filled the sacks they had brought with treasure and went outside. Shan in particular drew astonished stares by carrying a load far heavier than his own body.

Outside the palace, spoils gathered from the upper floors of the central palace and the surrounding subsidiary palaces had been piled high. Shan had ordered them to take only valuables that were easy to carry, so most were precious-metal objects and magical devices. The largest share consisted of the magical lights that decorated the corridors and banquet halls, practically a symbol of Hasra's royal palace. Pales was already mass-producing devices with similar performance, so their value was limited, but they were still worth taking for the magic stones they would save on manufacturing.

Other finds included incense burners that could be used almost indefinitely, food-warming plates, and sound-transmitting horns. Most were already in use in Pales, which was only natural: Sherin had modeled the magical devices she made there on those used in the royal palace.

Biko and Tavera, busy sorting the loot, widened their eyes at the treasure from the royal storehouse.

“That's a lot... Ah, Sir Shan. Give me that. I'll carry it.”

“Will we even be able to take all of this?”

Leaving Biko to organize the load, Shan had barely stretched his back before calling over a passing half-horse archer.

“You there.”

“Yes, sir!”

“What have you stuffed between your legs?”

The man gave an awkward laugh.

“Heh heh, I'm rather well-endowed... Huh?”

Before he could finish his excuse, Shan's sword flashed from its sheath and slashed across his crotch. The precise cut split only his leather trousers, revealing something like a pointed ornament stuffed inside his underwear.

“I'll let you off with a warning this once. If I catch you stealing spoils, I'll cut off whatever part of your body you hid them against. Tell the others.”

“Y-yes, sir!”

Those nearby who had witnessed the scene began fumbling about their bodies, pulling out objects and adding them to the pile. Every item gave off a strangely musty smell.

As Shan watched the spoils accumulate, several men approached from a distant subsidiary palace, waving. Beside them, their mounts pulled wagons.

“Sir Shan! We found the magic stones!”

There were five wagonloads of magic stones—the payment originally owed to Sherin. They had at least been prepared, suggesting Conrad had intended to pay if she fulfilled the contract. Of course, he had probably calculated that he could take them back once the Kingdom of Ajun's army arrived.

Fortunately, they soon found a way to transport all the plunder: the stables on the palace outskirts held horses and several empty wagons. Indulging in the extraordinary luxury of using well-bred warhorses raised by the royal household as draft animals, Shan led a dozen or so wagons toward Hasra's great central square. Several hours had passed, and the two groups sent out earlier were already gathered there.

“Are you finished as well?”

“Yes. As expected, the capital's nobles have plenty of wealth. It's almost a shame we had to leave weapons and armor behind because they were too heavy!”

Yurk's face was alight with excitement.

As he said, the riders following him had loaded their horses with all manner of precious-metal valuables. All of it had been plundered from the mansions of nobles staying in the capital, specifically those belonging to Conrad's faction. Blood stained some of the men's armor, suggesting they had taught resisters a harsh lesson. Though it was also possible they had merely brutalized people unable to resist.

“There's no need to get greedy. Conrad's army will be back here soon.”

“Understood. Hey! Everyone, load the spoils onto the wagons!”

While the riders busied themselves organizing their loads, Shan checked on the other knight. Beside him stood well over a hundred people, plainly terrified.

“As instructed, I've brought all the artisans and officials on the list, along with their immediate families!” the elderly knight announced proudly.

* * *

Their plundering complete, Shan and his cavalry left through Hasra's northern gate with over a dozen wagons loaded with magic stones, precious-metal valuables, magical devices, and people. Those who could not fit in the wagons rode double with the cavalry. Of course, heading north was merely a diversion. As soon as the walls disappeared from sight, they turned right and headed east. They were slower than cavalry alone, but should still be able to rejoin Sherin's main force in about two days.

“Our new employer certainly doesn't hold back.”

“No kidding. Looting a royal palace right from the start! That's something to boast to the children about when we get home.”

“When you think about it, isn't it just like raiding a great chieftain's tent?”

“Better than that.”

The half-horse archers of Horace chattered happily about their achievement. They came from the grasslands, where supplies were always scarce and taking from others to feed one's own family was a virtue. To them, a great plunderer was synonymous with a great warrior and ruler.

In truth, they would have loved to amuse themselves setting fires all over Hasra, but their employers, Sherin and Shan, had forbidden it. In the long run, Hasra too would be property under their rule, and there was no need to earn needless infamy.

By contrast, the knights and squires of Pales wore rather conflicted expressions. They felt neither a particularly strong attachment to the Kingdom of Pendia nor deep loyalty to its royal household, but the act of looting the royal palace itself still left them strangely uncomfortable.

“Well, we've emptied the traitor Conrad's coffers, haven't we?”

“Exactly. The poorer those bastards are, the safer we are!”

It was not the royal palace they had looted, but Conrad's palace—or so they clumsily rationalized it. Besides, a share of the spoils would be theirs, so they were not entirely unhappy.

Meanwhile, the artisans, officials, and their families, who had all but been abducted, huddled in the wagons and spoke anxiously.

“... I never imagined I'd leave my hometown like this.”

“Will there really be widespread looting in the capital?”

“Hasn't it already happened once?”

“You call that widespread looting? If it had been the real thing, half of us probably wouldn't be alive.”

“We couldn't have refused to go anyway. They'd surely have killed us. Those men even looted the royal palace.”

Shan and his riders had not brought the artisans and officials along through brute intimidation alone. They had explained that Conrad, now deprived of his reinforcements, would soon lose Hasra, and that Elvin's army, which would take his place, was full of vicious Luman soldiers who had once been pirates. Rather than remain suffering in a capital battered back and forth by civil war, its security and commerce in ruins, why not go to Pales, a supposed paradise? That was how they had brought them along—half persuasion, half threat.

“Let's try to put our minds at ease. It's not as though we can run away now. Travel without an escort in times like these and you'll end up a monster's dinner.”

Everyone nodded gloomily at the middle-aged blacksmith's words.

The country had always swarmed with monsters, but with villages destroyed by civil war and patrol forces drastically reduced, never had their proliferation seemed more terrifying. Even now, the horse archers guarding—and watching—them shot prowling monsters several times a day.

After two days traveling east, they finally caught up with Sherin's main force, which had gone ahead.

“Whoa...”

“Is all that treasure?”

The marching soldiers stared wide-eyed as the cavalry detachment sent to Hasra returned with an enormous haul of plunder.

Shan, who had led the column, stopped before Sherin, knelt on one knee, and offered a respectful salute.

“I have returned, Your Highness.”

“Well done. And the people you brought?”

“We've taken the best care of them we could.”

Sherin showed more interest in the artisans and officials—the human resources—than in gold, jewels, or magical devices. The latter could be acquired elsewhere, but the former could not be cultivated without a great deal of time.

“You've all endured a great deal. It cannot have been an easy journey.”

“Y-yes... Your Majesty.”

“Thank you, but I am not yet entitled to that form of address.”

They had been groaning from the bone-deep aches of their grueling wagon journey, and were overwhelmed that the princess herself had come to comfort and encourage them.

“Kalion, once head of the capital's merchants' guild, serves under me. Thanks to him, I know well how you were treated in the capital. I promise you this: you will receive far better treatment in Pales. I promise you gold—and peace.”

Sherin soothed their anxious hearts, presenting the image of a benevolent ruler. Accustomed to Conrad's oppressive rule, they quickly warmed to the princess's gentle manner. Joining her main force also meant they no longer had to endure a forced march in wagons or on horseback, which eased their minds.

They traveled only about twenty kilometers a day and cooked meals with fresh ingredients preserved in refrigerators carried on carts. Even the children could easily keep up with this pace.

“Well, to think an army uses magical devices like these...”

“Plenty of restaurants in Pales already use them. Her Highness even promised that one day every home would have a refrigerator.”

“That really does sound too good to be true.”

Though the people from the capital found the boasts of the Pales folk hard to believe, they gradually began to open their hearts. If such things really were commonplace there, it would be a better place to live than the capital.

After several more days traveling east, they began entering the eastern region, and Sherin sent her soldiers far and wide in earnest. The soldiers from the west spread word in each city that the traitor Conrad was bringing in plunderers from Ajun, the land of snow. Meanwhile, the Altoan soldiers visited villages of their own people in the remote, inhospitable reaches of the east.

“Wow...”

The Altoans in those isolated settlements stared dumbfounded at the troops serving the Witch Princess, whom they had heard of only in passing rumors. Here were fellow Altoans dressed not as shabby mercenaries, but in matching armor clearly made from something extraordinary.

“Princess Sherin takes our Altoan people into her service without discrimination. Sir Shan Barendil, her greatest spear and shield, is himself an Altoan!”

“How long will you stay holed up here, scraping by on monster flesh? Gold and glory await you!”

“... I-I want to be a soldier too! What do I have to do?”

Lured by the cause of saving their own people, impressive and powerful armor, and generous wages, Altoan youths clamored to become Sherin's soldiers. The soldiers' healthy complexions and lustrous skin, in stark contrast to their own sallow, malnourished faces, made the offer all the more persuasive.

They could not accept everyone, however. Living near the Demonlands guaranteed a certain level of fighting ability, but enough people had to remain to sustain the villages. The soldiers visiting the eastern Altoan settlements selected the strongest and most agile young men. Those not chosen regretfully pinned their hopes on another opportunity.

Shan did not simply remain standing idle either. He traveled here and there, showing his face. His presence alone could now accomplish a great deal, even without his personally wielding a spear or sword.

“Oh, it really is Sir Shan...”

“I heard he was rather short, but he's taller than I expected.”

“Children grow quickly, you know.”

“Sir Shan! Please look this way!”

The Altoans showered Shan with unrestrained affection; some even shed tears. That was how miraculous his existence seemed to the Altoans of the east. What could offer greater vicarious satisfaction than knowing that, unlike themselves in their secluded hamlets, one of their own enjoyed every glory as a mighty knight?

Ravana, who had recently become a knight, had earned some renown as well, but she could hardly compare with him. Many still remembered her as little more than a legendary mercenary.

After several days sweeping through the eastern region, Shan arrived somewhere quite familiar: the monastery beside Moniv village, home to Vent, the priest who had explored the Demonlands with him.