The Hunter of Hawk and Wolf-Chapter 41 : Chapter 41

Daytime, Count Bernard’s Castle
Tito stood in the corridor, clad in plate armor. He was smoking something rolled in thin paper.
Just as it burned to its end, Count Bernard emerged from a nearby room. He wore the same style of plate armor as Tito, but several pieces were missing.
Seeing the count’s trembling legs, Tito understood why.
“If you wear less armor because it’s heavy,” Tito said, “you’ll die screaming from a stray arrow.”
Shamed that his petty trick had been exposed, the Count bellowed, “What is there to fear from those pig-heads! They don’t have the wits to shoot a bow!”
“Ah... Of course. Of course.”
Tito hated to argue and let the count’s foolish words pass. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret.
That bastard Dalton, why did he have to go and die...
The Count was a desk knight who had never seen a proper battle, more familiar with political squabbles than sword fights.
Dalton had been the one to compensate for the count’s shortcomings, but he had died under mysterious circumstances during a jousting tournament.
Tito had inherited Dalton’s role, but a problem had arisen.
He refuses to listen to my advice because I lack knightliness.
The Knight Kingdom of Jershu was a nation that wouldn’t treat Duce—a hunchback who couldn’t even pretend to be a knight—as a prince.
In Jershu, ‘knightliness’ was the standard of trust. And so, the Count and the nobles who followed him openly ignored Tito’s advice.
With desk knights in command, we should only fight when the odds are so favorable a blind man could lead us to victory.
As Tito pondered how to orchestrate such a battle, the Count spoke abruptly.
“Tito. What is that in your mouth?”
“An herb, popular in the southern Maritime Kingdom.”
“It comes from across the sea.”
“Proof that the continent is changing.”
“As if a common thief would know anything about the continent...”
The Count sneered, unaware that he had entrusted his command to that very thief. Then he headed for the castle courtyard.
In the courtyard stood the Count’s knights and conscripts. They numbered roughly one thousand.
Including the forces of the nobles who follow me, our numbers should be around two thousand.
The Count tallied his soldiers and asked Tito, “And the pig-heads?”
“They’re split up for some reason, so the count isn’t precise. One group is eight hundred, the other three hundred.”
“And the Bastard of Blanc?”
“Around eight hundred, counting his conscripts.”
Even combined, the enemy forces within Blanc were no match for his own.
Upon realizing this, the Count grinned. “This means we are the only ones in this land who can kill the pig-heads.”
“Don’t be careless, my lord. The Bastard of Blanc will wait for us to be worn down by the pig-heads. Once they’re weakened, he’ll try to cut their throats before we can.”
“Then we’ll simply kill them all at once, giving the Bastard no such opportunity.”
As if he had been waiting for those words, Tito replied, “A wise decision. That’s why you must fight only when victory is certain.”
The Count nodded, his breathing growing easier.
The bastard’s sudden appearance... he had been flustered at first, but upon reflection, it was nothing to worry about.
More than half his vassals followed him. As for the commoners, he could win their sentiment back by exterminating the Tusk Tribe.
Having neatly arranged the situation to his own liking, the Count ascended the platform. He cried out to his knights and conscripts.
“I march now to defeat the beasts plundering my domain!”
Yet, many of the soldiers shared the same thought.
Weren’t you the one who brought the territory to this state?
“Follow me! Follow me, and let us save our home!”
The soldiers clicked their tongues. Tito glared at them, his sharp eyes demanding they cheer.
The soldiers swallowed their simmering resentment and let out forced shouts.
***
Night. A plain somewhere in Blanc.
Tataka was perched on a large stone, watching the moon. Beside him, his werewolf rested, curled up.
A moment later, a Tusk Tribe woman approached him. Unlike Tataka’s, her tusks were intact and carved with ornate patterns.
“What is it, Vega?” Tataka asked in the continental tongue.
The woman answered in kind. “The humans have made their move.”
“Then the Carved Tusks will move as well.” Tataka smiled.
Vega tilted her head. “I know you’re a battle maniac, but you seem happier than usual.”
“Because I have met a hawk.”
“And that makes you happy? You truly are a strange one.”
“Strange?”
“The wolf we worship, the one that chases the moon, is the God of Slaughter and Greed.”
Eirang, the Moon-chasing Wolf. This is what the Tusk Tribe shamans say of him.
“In the Mythical Age, the wolf Eirang tore at and devoured all things of the earth.”
Those who suffered under Eirang begged Lusha, He Who Sets Half the World Aright, to kill him.
But Lusha did not grant their plea.
“With the wolf there is suffering, but without the wolf there is no joy.”
Instead, Lusha devised a plan.
“Therefore, I shall make the wolf eternally chase that which it can never tear nor devour.”
He asked the Lover Beloved by All Creation to make Eirang fall in love with the Moon Princess.
When the moon set, Eirang ran beyond the horizon.
When the moon rose, he ran to the mountaintops.
He chased only the moon, seeing nothing else.
He chased only the moon, though he had no wings and could never reach it.
Thus, the earth was freed from Eirang’s tyranny.
But the Moon Princess, now forever pursued, could not overcome her fear and went mad.
The Moon Princess’s eyes turned blood-red. That crimson then stained every eye between the sky and the earth, drenching the world in blood.
Because of this, an endless line formed before the Judgment Hall, and those in it asked ceaselessly, “Where is this place?”
Diaka, who guarded the front of the Judgment Hall, could not stand by and watch the chaos.
“I am no matchmaker, my sister is no whore, and this is no pleasure house where one comes to lie down. To take line without knowing where you are is an insult to my sister and me.”
And so, Diaka decided to stop Eirang on days when the gates of the Judgment Hall were not open. Whenever Eirang drew close enough to drive the moon further into madness, she would shoot an arrow to keep him at bay.
In this way, Diaka and Eirang came to quarrel eternally, with the moon between them.
“Tataka. To us, the hawk is an obstacle. Why are you so pleased to face one?”
“Hmm... To me, the Tusk Tribe you describe is the stranger one.”
Tataka gazed toward the moon. “Eirang doesn’t chase the moon he can never reach because he loves the princess.”
He gazed wistfully, not at the moon, but at the emptiness beside it.
“It’s because he came to love Diaka—the one he must one day overcome—more than the princess.”
Vega paused.
Soon she smiled, her expression saying,
You hopeless fool.
“Now that you’ve confessed your love for another to your own wife, go on and get to where you’re supposed to be.”
Tataka laughed boisterously at his wife’s send-off. He rose from his seat and shouted to the Broken Tusk Tribe, who were arrayed behind him.
“Comrades! It is time to chase the moon!”
***
Day. The courtyard of Rasseu Castle.
Conscripts stood in formation. Before them were Teresse, Legra, and Prince Duce. They were gathered today for the dispatch ceremony.
But Duce, tasked with the ceremonial address, noticed something odd. Sevha, Eshu, and the Blanc Knights were nowhere to be seen.
“The lead actor has not yet appeared on stage. Should the curtain rise?” Duce asked.
Teresse answered politely, “The audience’s role is to be seated at the appointed time and watch the play in solemn silence.”
The meaning was clear:
Shut up and give the speech
.
At the thinly veiled command, Duce’s knight glared.
Duce immediately stopped him. “You are right. I am but a spectator.”
Duce stepped onto the platform and cleared his throat. He saw the eyes of countless conscripts. He didn’t know what their gazes meant, but he felt as though they were laughing at him.
He was a hunchback, after all; one who would laugh at his own reflection. A figure so comical he might weep without meaning to.
To escape the real or imagined ridicule, Duce averted his eyes.
In that instant, he saw the Marquis standing in a high window. The room behind him was dark, and all that could be seen was the sharp glint of his eyes.
The moment their gazes met, Duce recalled words the Marquis had once spoken. As if possessed, he uttered those words to the conscripts.
“What is a knight? One who protects something. One who serves something. One who devotes himself to something.”
Duce continued, his gaze returning to the conscripts.
“One who proves with his life what he protects, what he serves, and what he devotes himself to.”
Duce did not know what these men before him protected, served, or devoted themselves to. He only knew that they looked more like knights than he did. So he voiced that thought.
“Here stands one with a bent back, who cannot hold a sword to protect. One who cannot mount a horse to ride in service. One who, with his head always bowed, cannot prove what he devotes himself to.”
And so, he voiced his envy.
“You are more knightly than this wretched man.”
The conscripts, praised by a member of the royal family, roared.
Hearing the cheers, Duce looked toward the Marquis’s room.
The Marquis was still at the window, watching him, as if asking how long he would go on praising others for being knightly.
***
Night. A plain somewhere in Blanc.
Tents stood in dense clusters. Members of the Tusk Tribe with carved, intact tusks were tending to their werewolves.
A moment later, a giant emerged from the largest tent, a greatsword resting on his shoulder.
Another tribesman immediately ran to him and spoke in the grassland tongue.
“Achuk! The humans are moving!”
“So?”
“Tataka will use them! He’ll wait for us to fight the humans and grow weak!”
At the tribesman’s concern, Achuk roared, “And so what!”
The great plains, home to the Carved Tusk Tribe, were the heartland for races who refused to coexist with humans. Therefore, the Carved Tusk Tribe was the Tusk Tribe in its purest form.
“If the humans come, tear them apart!”
To ravage, to tear apart, to devour. This was the nature of the Tusk Tribe, a nature they could control if they chose.
“If that slave interferes with our mauling of the whores, then maul him as well.”
But the Carved Tusk Tribe, the Tusk Tribe of the great plains, never controlled their nature. They believed that to control one’s nature was to cease to be of the Tusk Tribe.
“That is tradition! This is the way of the wolf!”
The words had barely left Achuk’s mouth when a javelin flew from the darkness and pierced the chest of the tribesman beside him.
Achuk spun toward the attack and saw Tusk Tribe warriors charging on werewolves.
Leading them was—
“Tataka!” Achuk roared.
He was supposed to wait for the Carved Tusk Tribe and the Count’s army to weaken each other. It was the obvious strategy, and by ignoring it, he had launched a completely unexpected assault.
The werewolf-mounted Broken Tusk Tribe crashed into the unprepared Carved Tusk Tribe. Several of the Carved Tusks were torn apart by werewolves and thrown into the air.
Tataka broke through their ranks and charged at Achuk, raising his spear. Achuk took a stance to swing his greatsword.
Just as the two were about to collide.
Shuk!
An arrow split the air between them like lightning.
Startled, both Tataka and Achuk looked to see where it had come from. It was the direction opposite the Broken Tusk Tribe’s ambush.
There, Eshu and the Blanc Knights were mounted on their warhorses. At the vanguard was Sevha, astride Toto.
Bwooo!
A knight blew a horn, and Sevha and his knights charged into Achuk’s camp.
“Slave! Have you joined hands with the humans?” Achuk accused furiously.
Tataka answered, “No. That hawk has come to hunt us all.”
Tataka had caught Achuk off guard. Sevha, predicting Tataka’s move, had caught them both off guard.
To Tataka, this brilliant maneuver only meant the battle would be more enjoyable.
A vicious, cold smile spread across his face as he howled, “Chase the moon!”
Immediately after, Achuk leaped onto a charging werewolf and let out a purely vicious roar.
“Tear the moon apart!”
Behind them, Eshu and the Blanc Knights crashed into the Tusk Tribe. Several tribesmen were struck by the warhorses and sent flying.
Sevha cut through them, murmuring in a voice devoid of heat.
“Do not approach the moon.”
Hunter and butcher.
Hawk and wolf.
Restraint and greed.
The moon, its light still blue, shone down upon them.