Tales of Leo Attiel ~Portrait of the Headless Prince~

Volume 4, Chapter 1: The Duellists

Part 1

By Tei Tahra's guidance, Kuon the fugitive has returned to the mountains.

No sooner had that rumour flown round the village than another one swiftly started to spread.

Kuon wants to overturn the Chief's decision, so he's going to fight a duel with Warrior Raga.

The normally quiet atmosphere within the mountains was as noisy as thought they had suddenly been attacked by an entire enemy division.

Whenever anyone maintained their opposition to a decision from the chief, that person had no choice but to fight Warrior Raga in a duel, and win. Said otherwise, Raga was duty-bound to accept duels, but it wasn't something that happened very often. Most of the tribe lived their entire life in the mountains where they had been born, but even then, they might see it at most once or twice in their entire lifetime.

Moreover, his opponent was Kuon.

The 'unwanted child' whose contaminated blood had not received Tei Tahra's divine protection, the one who had ensnared then murdered Datta Wei, even though Datta had helped look after him – in other words, a 'betrayer' who was possessed by evil spirits, and a fugitive who had fled from the mountain before those spirits could be cleansed.

“Why is Kuon fighting Raga instead of being thrown to the fire?”

People were understandably puzzled. Nothing but death awaited a 'betrayer'. Those who were inhabited by evil spirits were usually killed by the youths who had only just reached adulthood, during their coming-of-age ceremony, and their corpse was burned in the sacred flames lit by the priestesses and shamans.

Such were the customs, lifestyle and laws of the people who lived in these mountains, which others did not approach.

“According to Mistress Mist, Tei Tahra's divine voice hasn't passed judgement on Kuon yet.”

“And also, Kuon seems to have brought a woman from a country called Atall with him. That woman asked the chief to lend them our military strength.”

“That's ridiculous. We don't belong to Atall here.”

“That woman also said something else: apparently, if we don't lend him our strength, the prince of Atall will attack and annihilate us.”

“We'll take him on and beat him back!” The youths shouted and raised their fists to the sky. Here, on this mountain, woman were included among said 'youths'. Warlike cries flew throughout the village, coming from men who were preparing to go hunting, and women who were tanning beast hides with smoke. Some of the more quick-tempered youths even held a sword or a gun in the fists they raised overhead.

“That woman who doesn't know the awe and terror of Divine Tei Tahra should just burn along with Kuon!”

“Of course the chief didn't give in to the threats from Atall. And of course, Warrior Raga, who was also there, roared the same thing as everyone here: 'we'll take him on and beat him back'. But at that moment, the one who spoke in objection was Kuon.”

At this point in time, Kuon was being seen as heinous sinner, but since he had not yet received Tei Tahra's judgement, he was not yet a criminal. Furthermore, he had undergone the coming-of-age ceremony. Since he was guilty of no crime, for all that he was called an 'unwanted child', and for all that he had left the mountain without permission for a year, he was still an adult of the tribe, and he naturally had all the rights that went with it.

Kuon had made use of those rights to directly oppose the chief's will. “I challenge Warrior Raga so that I can prove before Divine Tei Tahra that I am right,” he had insisted. People were astounded and incredulous. There were not a few of them who burst out laughing.

“A man living on borrowed time, waiting for Divine Tei Tahra to hand down His judgement, wants to prove to our mountain god that he's right?”

“That accursed 'unwanted spawn'? That 'betrayer'?”

“The lady priestesses don't need to wait to hear Lord Tei Tahra's voice. That bastard will be using his own body to show this mountain what justice is. It'll be proven the instant Raga's sword sends Kuon's head flying.”

Throughout all of that day, the entire village was occupied with the topic of the duel between Raga and Kuon. People were not only getting worked up by insulting Kuon; it had already been about twenty years since Warrior Raga had taken part in a fight over village policy. Although the outcome was absolutely obvious, the contest provided the people there with a certain form of entertainment.

“How is Kuon going to be killed? Is he going to be felled in a single blow, or are his nerves going to be ground down while Raga takes his time chopping his limbs off one by one? How long will Kuon last? Will their swords even clash once? No, they say that the beast eyes painted on Raga's mask hold the power to make evil spirits falter. That guy definitely won't be able to even move...” Sarah intoned expressionlessly, in exactly the same voice as a priest transmitting a message from a god.

“...Is what they're saying, Mr Officer in Prince Leo Attiel's Personal Guards,” she addressed Kuon, who was on the other side of the iron bars, his back leaning against the stone wall. He didn't seem like he was going to answer, however. Ever since he had informed Chief Suo and Priestess Mist that he would duel Raga, Sarah had treated him with the coldest of attitudes.

“Even though, thanks to my superb negotiation skills, it looked like I was the verge of getting a concession out of Suo. I would even have been able to have you released. But in spite of that, you went and said 'I'm staying here. I won't run away.' Hmph, well, how splendidly manly of you. And, what do you intend to accomplish with this duel? Savages from the wilderness, who won't even listen to reason, really seem to like fighting to see who's right,” Sarah declared, her eyebrows drawn tightly together.

However, when she glanced towards Kuon, whose face was hidden behind one raised knee, her cheeks puffed out.

“What is it? Why are you laughing?”

“The Cross Faith also has duels,” Kuon snorted. “Apparently, the style changes a bit depending on the country or city, but when things can't be settled with a trial, or when you want to avoid the time and trouble of going to trial, you can solve things by having a duel between the people concerned, or their representatives.”

“Th... Well, hum...”

“I heard about it from Camus. Seems he's also done it. I had to listen for almost an hour while he explained, complete with gestures, about how his spear had righted 'injustice' and proven his innocence.”

“That bastard,” Sarah openly cursed her brother. Then immediately continued, “That's one thing, and I don't want to talk about it. Don't try to sidestep the issue.”

Kuon was left speechless by how high-handed she was being. It was as though she might be able to change the direction the wind was blowing through sheer force of will.

“There was no other choice. Even if your 'superb negotiation skills' had gotten us both out of the mountains, what then? Were we supposed to just happily go back to the prince? Without a single soldier following us?”

“That's...”

“If I win, I can change Suo's decision. In other words, we can help the prince by getting reinforcements. It's not like I ever thought that getting them to help would be easy. I was ready for at least this much.”

“Liar. You were about to run away. It's only because of the way things unfolded that it ended up like this,” Sarah made another bitter comment.

However, she changed her tone immediately afterwards, probably believing that there was no point continuing in that vein.

“That guy... That Raga, is he strong?”

“I told you before, right? The strongest man in the tribe is the one who becomes Raga.”

“So you're saying he's stronger than you?”

When Sarah asked him that, biting her thumb with irritation, Kuon for some reason looked dumbstruck for a moment. After thinking about it, he replied,

“I'm stronger.”

At his answer, Sarah once again retorted “Liar,” without a second's delay.

“Didn't you only just say that the strongest becomes Raga? If he's stronger than anyone, then that means he's stronger than you, right!”

“You can't take part in the fight to choose Raga until you're an adult. So I never took part until now, and the current Raga got that position while I was away from the mountain. In other words, Raga was decided while I was gone. If I'd been here, Raga would be me.”

Kuon met Sarah's tempestuous emotions with a dispassionate answer. The young nun still had her mouth open wide, as though she were about to say something, but all that came out of it was the sound of her breathing, and before long, she let her slender shoulders dropped. Instead of calling him an idiot, she asked, in a small voice,

“...So when will the duel be?”

“Didn't you hear? Suo said it, you know. It will start tomorrow at sunset.”

“T-Tomorrow,” Sarah's breath caught in her throat, then she gasped. “You're in no state for that. It's been three days since you were locked in here, right? I've heard that I was unconscious for about that long. Are you moving at all? If you just stay still, your muscles will become stiff and you won't be able to move them. And what about meals? You haven't been getting any, have you? I'm more or less a guest, so if I ask, I can probably get them to share some with you. Hang on, I'll go and fetch...”

As soon as she decided that, Sarah started to set off and seemed about to leave the cleft in the rock. Kuon had no time to stop her, yet Sarah herself suddenly paused when her hand was already on the edge of the entranceway.

“That won't be necessary.”

A new voice could be heard from the other side of the opening. It was Aqua, with a wooden tray in hand. Grilled fish and several types of nuts were arranged on top of it, and there was also a bowl filled with mashed corn.

“This is from Chief Suo,” said Aqua, silently gesturing to Sarah to 'get out' as 'she' walked past her. Sarah stood aside.

Aqua slid the tray through the gap between the iron bars and the ground's surface. Kuon's gaze shifted in turn from the tray to Aqua. Seeing the 'girl's' slender face again, it seemed to have matured a little since he had left the village. Aqua stared expressionlessly back at him, but before long, 'her' shoulders started to jerk in a way that showed 'she' was uncomfortable.

“Aren't you going to eat?” 'Her' voice was low, but it was sharp and firm.”It might be your last meal.”

“I'll eat. More importantly, Aqua, you were taking part in the ashinaga hunt, so I guess that means you've 'become a man', huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Too bad for Diu. He wanted to marry you.”

“Is that right,” Aqua answered indifferently.

Pulling the tray towards him, Kuon seemed about to ask something else, but Aqua abruptly swung 'her' slender frame around, and started to leave without another word. In a complete reversal from earlier, however, this time, Sarah was the one standing in the way, and Aqua had no choice but to stop.

“Move, Outsider.”

“Forget it. I was intending to kick that Diu person flying as soon as I got here. Where is he?”

“Diu? You're going to 'kick him flying'? Aqua chuckled softly after repeating Sarah's words.

The novice nun felt as though she was being laughed at as a completely ignorant outsider, and her face flushed crimson.

“Yes, that's exactly right. And I'm not 'you': I'm Sarah, the best woman warrior of Conscon Temple, who is going to beat up Diu, the puniest of your tribe.”

“Why? You've never met him, right?”

“I've heard about him. He set a trap for Kuon. The one who killed Datta Wei wasn't Kuon, and that Diu person...”

“Stop it, Sarah!” Kuon shouted angrily from the other side of the iron bars, but Sarah shook her head.

“I'm not saying it for you. I'm still furious.”

“Idiot. Camus said that your god teaches that even if someone hits you on the side of the face, you should turn the other cheek without hitting back.”

“How did he have the nerve to say that? That stupid spear maniac! You're stupid too, and so is Big Brother, and Lord Leo, and every single one of you men, all of you, all of you are stupid!”

Sarah was bent slightly forward in rage as she vented her fury, and Aqua passed by the side of her with unconcerned steps.

“Ah, hold on... this conversation isn't over...” Sarah made as if to stop 'her'.

“If you want to beat up Diu, you should just leave it to Kuon tomorrow,” Aqua said coldly.

“What? What do you mean?”

“Don't you get it? At the ceremony held half a year ago, the new vessel which Warrior Raga's soul chose to reside in was the one who used to be Diu Wei.”

The pine torches at the entrance of the cleft threw light on Aqua, and half 'her' body was illuminated red.

Part 2

The setting for the fight was a shallow ravine near the summit of the great mountain.

The ceremonial combats to choose a new Raga were held in the same place. In other words, this was where, not so very long ago, Diu Wei had competed for and earned the right to house Warrior Raga's soul.

Kuon was let out of the cliff-face prison a little before sunset.

Red curtains had been hung at both ends of the floor of the ravine. As one of the contestants waiting to duel, Kuon was led behind one of them. Even now, his hands and feet were bound in chains. Soldiers, who were more like lookouts than guards, had followed behind him, but after he was pushed behind the curtain, there was no longer anyone around him.

For a while, time simply passed.

Kuon dropped down to the ground on his backside. Having come this far, he naturally had no intention of running away. He felt the presence of people gathered on the other side of the curtain. The light of the sun gradually grew weaker, and was replaced with deep shadows in the area cut off by the draperies.

At that point, Aqua came in, accompanying an elderly priestess clad entirely in scarlet robes.

As soon as the greetings were over, the priestess started drawing a pattern over Kuon's skin with red dye. It was meant to call the Spirits of battle into his body, and normally, it was a pattern that only the head of a unit was allowed to receive when going to war. Two exceptions were made, however, and the braves who dared contend to become Raga, as well as the warriors who challenged Raga, were also allowed to wear it.

A few minutes later, Kuon's skin was covered in a pattern of red stripes. The priestess placed a finger at the centre of the large circle that was drawn on his chest, and said, “All will be according to Lord Tei Tahra's guidance,” before disappearing back to the other side of the curtain.

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After the priestess had left, Aqua, who had been watching motionlessly from start to end, silently crouched down next to Kuon, and took a key to unlock the chains at his hand and feet. Kuon swung his legs, which suddenly felt light again. “Why did you come back?” Aqua asked him in a whisper.

Kuon answered while gazing at the dirt-stained tip of his toes,

“It was Lord Tei Tahra's guidance.”

“Liar. You don't have the mountain god's guidance,” 'she' retorted flatly. 'Her' callousness reminded him of Sarah. Speaking of which, the two of them were the same age.

“Diu Wei was strong,” Aqua continued, as though speaking to 'herself'.

“I know.”

“No, you don't know. After you left, Diu became stronger. It was almost frightening how he continued practising day and night, as though he was possessed by the Spirits of battle and he didn't know how to release them. Even though everyone thought that after Datta's death, Diu would succed him as the next 'Wei', he even left that to Aro, his senior brother in the unit, and continued improving his skills all by himself. The ceremonial battle to decide Raga was amazing. Whether it was the warriors with more experience than Diu, or those with a better physique than him, nobody could even touch him.”

Kuon didn't answer. He remembered how Sarah had asked him the previous evening, “Is Raga stronger than you, Kuon?” At the time, he had truly felt astounded.

Of course Raga was strong. It was a simple fact, something that even babies knew, as obvious for those born in the great mountains as saying that things dropped from a height would fall. Yet when Sarah asked him that question point-blank, Kuon realised that he had completely forgotten that well-known truth.

It wasn't because he had been looking down on Raga. As soon as he had faced the masked warrior at the prison, he had sensed that the current Raga was Diu. And Diu was a man who had always been one step ahead of Kuon, not only in age, but also in terms of skill with sword or bow. If they were to fight one-to-one, it would be difficult for Kuon to win without a large amount of luck on his side.

The rules of duel were clear: victory would only be decided when one of them either died, or accepted defeat. But the people from their community believed that Kuon was steeped in sin – that his flesh housed evil spirits. Even if Kuon were to admit defeat, Raga held the duty of expelling evil spirits, so it was unthinkable that he would stay his sword.

In other words, it meant that Kuon had a very high chance of dying in this fight.

Yet when he had declared that he would face off against Raga, he had felt neither fear nor anxiety. Still, when he had explained to Sarah that Diu became Raga when I wasn't around, so he isn't the strongest. The strongest is me, those were not his true feelings.

Nor was he labouring under the naïve assumption that I didn't kill Datta. I'm innocent. Lord Tei Tahra grants victory to the righteous, so there's no way I can lose.

Aqua, who was strapping shoulder pads and a belt on the still-seated Kuon, also seemed to find it strange.

“Aren't you scared?”

'She' then changed 'her' question, and spoke in a voice just as quiet as before,

“You deliberately came back knowing that you would be killed, and now, you're definitely going to die. I'm also a 'man'. I'm not afraid of losing my life in battle. When I die, my body and bones will be burned, but my soul will ride on the back of Valgo the wind-wolf, he who serves Lord Tei Tahra, and will turn into a spirit. It's something to be proud of. But you, from the moment you left the mountain – from the moment you even thought of leaving the mountain – you lost Lord Tei Tahra's protection. The corpse that housed evil spirits is burned in the sacred fire, but although the soul is saved, it can no longer follow the path to becoming a spirit. That means it loses the path to achieve eternity. Do you understand? That's basically the same as never having been born. I would hate it. Everything that you'd done up until then, the fact that you'd fought for the mountain, your family – it would be as if all those things never existed. I couldn't bear it!”

Blood rose to Aqua's face during 'her' long and vehement speech, and, even though it was only a little, it showed traces of how 'she' had looked in 'her' girlhood, back on that day when they were young and she rebuked Kuon without rhyme or reason.

It is scary, Kuon mentally agreed. But there was something that he found even scarier.

There was a loud booming noise, and the curtain that surrounded them shook. It was the sound of a drum, and it meant that battle was approaching. A second slower after the drum, there was a loud roar as the men of the tribe cheered enthusiastically.

Aqua stood, as though 'she' had suddenly come back to 'her' senses.

“Stand, Kuon. I need to make the last of the 'preparations'.”

Kuon moved to obey the order, but then suddenly stopped.

“What is it?”

“My legs have gone to sleep. Lend me a hand.”

“How pathetic, and you're saying you're going to fight Raga?” Aqua shook 'her' head as though 'she' found him utterly deplorable. 'She' stretched out 'her' hand, caught Kuon's wrist, and helped him up.

While Aqua completed the 'preparation', Kuon stared fixedly at the wrist that 'she' had seized only just a few moments ago.

A large crowd of men were gathered at the top of the slightly elevated cliffs that formed the shallow ravine.

Of those there that night, the most conspicuous were the heads of units, adorned in their battle markings. The warriors who represented the mountains were closely monitoring the fight, and this served to guarantee that justice would be served by the outcome of the fight, whatever that outcome might be.

If, after this, someone were to appear who opposed the policy that was decided this night, who expressed dissatisfaction and deliberately refused to obey, that person would probably be expelled from the unit on the authority of its leader. And there were those among them who, out of shame that such a person could have come from their household, would resign from the position of leader of their own accord. The warriors' patterns that were painted on them testified to that level of resolve.

Aside from them, an unbroken line of men could be seen from between the unit leaders. Apart from the priestesses, only men who had reached adulthood were allowed to witness the fight.

An exception had been made for the 'outsider', Sarah, and she could be seen in the area where the priestesses had taken up their positions, just next to Mist, the very oldest of them.

Most of the men were holding pine torches aloft. Their light shone down on the ravine as the figures of the contestants appeared from either side of it. One was a warrior in a beast mask, the fangs of which framed both sides of his head.

“Raga.”

“Raga.”

“Raga!”

Every time he took a step forward, the loud cheers of the tribe's men thundered and reverberated through the ravine. The men wore enraptured, entranced expressions, and their voices had a worshipping ring to them.

Naturally, all of them knew that the face beneath the mask belonged to Diu Wei. And among the warriors, Diu was still young. For all that he had earned the position of Raga through genuine ability, it would hardly be surprising if, among the vastly more experienced warriors, there were some who still doubted Diu's actual skill, or who took him lightly.

Yet not a shred of that was in evidence among any of those who now held up torches or weapons. Even the heads of units in the prime of their life, even those who – if their children had slipped up – might have grandchildren that were close to Diu's age, turned fervent gazes towards him.

But no, this wasn't 'Diu'. Strictly speaking, there was no face beneath Raga's mask.

When he won his position as Raga, and once he had received the rites from the priestesses, Diu unmistakably became Raga, the warrior told of in the legends. Even if the body which was now moving forward had once belonged to Diu, it was now the dwelling in which Raga's soul resided. Which meant that the man known as Diu Wei currently did not exist.

And that was why, among those gathered there – and even among the highly-skilled warriors who secretly believed that “If I had taken part in the battle ceremony, I'd have beaten down a brat like Diu Wei,” – absolutely none of them looked down on Raga. They could not even begin to doubt that he might win.

On the other hand, when Kuon walked towards the centre from the side opposite Raga, jeers hailed down incessantly from the young men.

“You accursed unwanted spawn!”

“Know your place! Not only did you oppose the chief, but you even challenged Raga?”

“He's as shameless as his mother was!”

Sarah bit her lips as she watched, and her brows drew together for a moment when the two of them finally arrived at the centre of the ravine.

Both contestants were similarly stripped naked down to their waists, and wore a shoulder pad on their left shoulder. Both similarly grasped a single, unsheathed long sword. There was, however, one single point of difference between the two men: Kuon was holding his sword in his left hand.

Kuon was right-handed, but it was clear from the start that he would not be transferring the weapon to his dominant hand.

He couldn't.

And the reason for that was because his right arm was pulled behind his back, and bound against his torso with rope.

“Those are the 'shackles' that Suo has imposed on Kuon.”

Perhaps noticing Sarah's shock and disbelief, Mist, the head priestess, explained while maintaining her eyes fixed straight ahead, even though her eyelids drooped so low that it was unclear whether she could even see anything. Any challenger who contested a decision by the chief and who fought Raga would, without exception, be handicapped by 'shackles' that were chosen at the chief's own discretion.

Kuon had mentioned it when he had once talked about his past: the head of the tribe guided his people according to the council he received from the priestesses, who conveyed Tei Tahra's words to him. Opposing the chief was virtually the same as claiming that “the priestesses misheard the Divine Voice.” Which was why that person had to prove themselves beyond any shadow of doubt – so clearly that anyone could see.

Since the dispute concerned the will of the mountain god, Tei Tahra was certain to grant victory to whoever was right, and so, the challenger had to be able to win no matter what handicap he was placed under. There were some who had been made to challenge Raga empty-handed, while he carried a long-handled spear. There were others who had even been thrown into the ring with their eyes covered with a blindfold.

“Has there ever been anyone so far who's won against Raga?” Sarah asked in a trembling voice. She held no sense of hope about the answer.

And, just as expected, Mist shook her head.

“As far as I know, this ritual has always ended with Raga's victory, and no one has ever overturned any of the chief's policies.”

Sarah turned back to where Kuon and Raga were facing each other and, looking at them again, the difference in build between them was obvious. Raga's physique was by no means the most impressive within the tribe, but compared to his burly frame – and even though Kuon had grown taller since Sarah had first met him – Kuon was like a young and flimsy sapling. Forced into a fight where he was at a disadvantage even at the best of times, his dominant arm was now immobilised.

Sarah wanted to scream in protest against what was going on. This was completely stupid. She wanted to break through the crowd and into the ravine at once, grab Kuon by the arm, and drag him back to Atall, even if it was against his will.

But her legs wouldn't move, and her voice wouldn't come out. She realised that it was too late to turn back. If she forcibly broke up this fight, the only fate that awaited Kuon was being thrown to the flames. And so all Sarah could do now was to pray for his victory. A victory which he did not have one in a million chances of obtaining.

Chief Suo stood between the two fighters who were silently facing one another. Riding a palanquin carried on the shoulders of warriors, Mist also headed to the same place. This fight was a way of seeking Tei Tahra's will, but the official verdict on the outcome would come from Suo and Mist.

Mist looked up at the heavens overhead. At the same moment, she lifted the sleeve of her faded robes, and raised a bony arm to the night sky.

“I feel them. Of Lord Tei Tahra's one thousand eyes concealed within the mountains, three pairs now turn overhead. One pair watches Warrior Raga, one pair watches Kuon, and, from high in the heavens, the last pair sees nothing but the truth in this place. You who are not born of the energy of earth, trees and wind must fight. You who are not gods and who question the truth have no choice but to weigh your one, insignificant life in the scales. And then fight... fight... fight!”

The warriors who carried spears or swords struck their weapons against the ground. At first it was quiet and slow, and, since no one was giving orders, the noise was chaotic and disjointed.

As the seconds passed, however, a pattern emerged from the series of uncoordinated sounds. As others followed or were made to follow it, the intensity and speed of the pounding sounds soon swelled until they envelopped the ravine, and reverberated so loudly that they seemed to be challenging the night sky and making the whole mountain shake.

The chief headed up from the ravine while Mist was again transported by palanquin back to Sarah's side.

First, Raga ran the tip of his long sword across the surface of the ground, then put himself in a fighting stance. Kuon raised the blade that he held in his left hand by a fraction.

Having arrived at the top of the cliff, Suo raised his arm, and the noise that had engulfed the entire surroundings abruptly stopped. It was so sudden that a loud ringing sound continued to echo in Sarah's ears.

As it disappeared, Suo shouted,

“Begin!”

And at the same moment, blades flashed, reflecting the light of the flames.

Part 3

Raga was the first to move at the signal. Just like the mask that concealed his face, he sprang at Kuon with movements like a beast leaping at its prey's throat.

He was fast.

Sarah almost screamed. There was still that difference in build between them: it was to the point where if Kuon took a single blow, the match would probably be decided.

As Raga's long sword hummed, Kuon leaped back. Sarah had no time to sigh in relief: for a while, both sides started moving hectically within the narrow ravine, their feet never stopping.

Whenever Raga tried to close in on him, Kuon put distance between them. Yet Raga wasn't just going to let him escape however he pleased. Would it be to the right, or to the left? Just when it looked like his pursuit was slowing down, he would swing his sword. And his footwork never faltered.

If Camus, Sarah's combat-loving brother, had been there, would he have made comments along the line of: 'His hips and waist are steady, and his centre is unwavering. He must have trained diligently'? Sarah was a layman in terms of fighting, and his movements had a strength and ferocity that made her gasp.

Against an ordinary opponent, Raga would not have swung his sword five times before either the other's head fell, or his chest was pierced through. And in fact –

“It's over, huh?”

The warriors standing near Sarah gave the impression of having already seen how the contest would end.

“Once the physically inferior one gets run ragged, there's no more chance of victory for him.”

“Kuon should have charged from the start. I don't think he'd have been able to land a blow on Raga even then, but at least he'd have a shown a little pride as a man of the tribe.”

“We're talking about unwanted spawn – even if he was once recognised as a warrior of Tei Tahra, there's no point having sympathy.”

And certainly, Raga was the only one attacking, while Kuon simply ran away. It was no wonder that everyone considered the match already settled.

Yet Raga had already swung his sword more than ten times since Suo had given the signal. But he still hadn't caught Kuon. Gradually, the crowd's aside comments and mocking jeers started to fade away.

Kuon was dodging skilfully. He side-stepped left or right even as he faced Raga head-on. Even when the blade was closing in on him, he wasn't the least perturbed and just nimbly bent his head to avoid a swipe aimed at an angle, or jumped lightly back and let the blow pass by him, just a step away. Every time it happened, the circle of men following the contest all let out “ooh”s and “ah”s that might have been expressions either of disappointment or of admiration.

Although Sarah, who held her breath as she watched the fight, didn't make a sound, a corner of her mind was remembering the first time she met Kuon.

At Conscon Temple, he had gotten into a fight with men who were probably mountain bandits. He had faced about five or six opponents, but he smoothly and continuously passed by the fists they swung and the legs they kicked at him, sometimes even looking as though he was about to cling to their large frames. If the sword that Raga swung held all the ferocity of a wild beast, then Kuon's limbs were like supple plants entangling the predator.

The experienced tribesmen could not help but recognise that fact. Still, once it had continued on for nearly five minutes, the crowd who was watching tensely could no longer hide its irritation.

“Just how long are you planning to run away for!” Unable to bear it any longer, a man on the opposite side of the ravine from Sarah shouted out.

“Don't you dare defile the arena that the mountain god is watching over!” By Sarah's side, one of the young men who had being carrying Mist's palanquin cried out angrily.

One after another, more and more of the men started hurling abuse at Kuon.

That's just telling Kuon to die! Sarah wanted to furiously shout back at them.

However, at that point in time, there was a faint, almost imperceptible glimmer of emotion within Kuon's eyes as he continued to carefully observe his opponent. It wasn't anger at being scorned and mocked. Rather, it was the light that came from having found a chance at victory.

Kuon had been waiting for 'this'.

From the very first, he had not believed he had any chance of winning through a direct confrontation. If he had lunged at Raga, who had been ready for everything, his blows would simply have been repelled, and the only thing that would have awaited Kuon at that point was 'death'.

And so, his only hope had been to systematically evade every strike. Yet even so, Raga was the man who had emerged victorious after defeating who knew how many seasoned fighters. When their movements had intersected, Kuon never once saw a single opening in his opponent.

However, now, a change appeared in Raga's way of moving.

Even if he had been crowned with the name of the legendary warrior spoken of in myth, Raga – or rather, Diu Wei, the one beneath the mask – was still young.

And because he was young, he was under heavy mental pressure. That of being Warrior Raga: in other words, that of being stronger than anyone else in the tribe. And, as Raga, he had to continuously prove that strength.

Moreover, his opponent was Kuon: someone who was smaller than him, who was a traitor who had broken the laws of the village, and whose dominant arm was blocked. It was completely obvious that Warrior Raga would win against that kind of opponent. There was no way it could be a difficult fight. He needed to settle it effortlessly, in one, single strike.

Up until then, Kuon had not been able to sense whether the current Raga felt 'the heavy pressure of being Raga' weighing on his shoulders, but when the crowd began to voice their irritation, the change he had been eagerly waiting for had finally appeared.

Seen from the outside, it only looked like Raga had become even fiercer, as his speed and strength had increased. But Kuon saw the impatience beneath it. The leeway, based on instinct, that Raga had previously had, and which had allowed him to steadily drive his prey into a corner, had now vanished from his movements. In other words, now that he was intent on raining blows down on Kuon, the flexibility had disappeared from the way he moved.

When Kuon realised that, he brought his feet – which had been moving incessantly – to a halt, and started to crouch. The muscles of his tempered calves bulged. In the next moment, he broke into a run towards Raga.

In the same instant, the men who had been howling angrily started shouting with excitement. Sarah covered her eyes. As far as she and the crowd could see, Kuon had been unable to endure the booing, and was just charging recklessly.

Yet even as Kuon seemed to be offering his own neck to Raga's sturdy sword, he suddenly vanished.

Or at least, that was how it looked to most of those watching, including Raga himself.

While sprinting forward, Kuon had bent down until he was almost skimming the ground. He felt a gust of wind above his head. Raga had swung his sword. The very next second, Kuon's strong knees and thighs exerted a strength twice as great as his own weight, and he sprang upwards.

For the first time, the blade clasped in his hand traced a semi-circle in the air as he attacked. The tip struck Raga's mask. Raga staggered backwards, and Kuon deliberately rolled to the side, almost as though he was falling over.

The crowd raised a noise that was close to a scream.

Kuon immediately stood up as he was rolling. Raga's steps were unsteady.

Which meant that he was still alive.

The next one to attack was Raga, but having to brace himself meant that his strike wasn't so vigorous, and Kuon's blow seemed to have half negated his strength. The mask cracked, and the top half started to crumble.

If Raga's mask had not been there, and if Kuon's right hand had been free... then the contest would already have been decided. However, this was a fight in which speculation had been meaningless from the start: Tei Tahra would grant victory to the one who was in the right.

Kuon drew up from behind towards the opponent he had failed to kill. Raga started to look behind him, but his movements were terribly slow, probably because his consciousness was still hazy.

“Raga!”

A huge number of the men all shouted simultaneously, but it was to no avail, and Kuon's sword swung in attack. It seemed as though the fight would be settled this time for sure, but Kuon was aiming for Raga's sword.

The blade dropped from Raga's limp arm, and Raga himself pitched forward from the impact. The tip of Kuon's blade instantly pressed against his throat.

Ah! – who could even tell whose voice had just escaped them?

The two fighters, who had been moving without pause up until then, now stood still, both panting heavily. The cloud of dust they had kicked up during their fight was still swirling slightly at their feet.

It's Kuon's win – thought Sarah, but, next to her, Mist muttered quietly:

“How foolish.”

In order to win, a contestant had to either kill his opponent, or else get them to concede defeat. Kuon silently urged Raga to choose the first option, but there was no way that the strongest warrior in the tribe could accept that kind of outcome.

If Raga lost, it could only be through his death.

In that moment, Kuon saw pale flames flash in the eyes that glared at him from behind the cracked and crumbling mask. Just as Raga's burly arms seemed about to stretch out towards him, he instead caught the blade at his throat in his bare hands. That unexpected move caused Kuon's posture to falter, and in that same instant, Raga sprang up, kicking Kuon in the stomach as he did so.

Kuon staggered, and Raga wrenched the sword from his hand. Within a split second, Kuon had rolled to the ground and swept away the sword that Raga had dropped earlier.

The two steel swords collided. Sparks scattered a second, then a third time.

The contest had returned to the start – or so it might seem, but Raga's way of moving had clearly suffered. Yet even if that was the after-effect of the blow he had taken to the head, from the other side of the mask, he was now concentrating on raining down powerful strikes. Which meant that Kuon had also lost his advantage, which had been in the flexibility of his movements.

More than anything, this meant that unlike earlier, the two of them were in close range from one another. Kuon could no longer rely on his footwork to escape from Raga, and was forced to use the sword to defend himself. Now that things had come to that point, the difference in their build was crucial; forced into a contest of brute strength, Kuon was at an overwhelming disadvantage. Every time he stopped a blow, his centre of gravity shook. His waist bent, his shoulders heaved, and his steps were becoming unsteady.

The tip of the blade grazed the top of Kuon's shoulders, and blood flew. If Raga had been just half a step closer, that blow would have taken Kuon's head.

“Oooh!”

“Get him, Raga!”

“Cut down that evil spirit.”

The men once again started striking their swords and spears against the ground.

Sarah felt a sort of vertigo, as though her brains were being shaken to the core. In the light of the pine torches, the shadows of the two warriors were so close that they overlapped with one another. Steel gleamed in the space between them. Was there even that space? The men roared as their sweat flew. Their weapons beating against the ground played a murderous and oppressive rhythm.

For someone from the civilised world, it was like a scene from a world of twilight. It resembled a painting daubed in primary colours, one that could release you from the shackles of reason with just a single look.

Even though the feeling of warm blood had receded from her entire body, leaving only coldness, there was a single thin line, drawn from the top of her head down to her crotch, which was so hot that it seemed her blood was actually boiling. Unable to endure the cold and heat, Sarah wanted to crouch down where she was. She wanted to turn her eyes away from Kuon, who seemed about to be bisected by Raga's sword at any moment now.

But Sarah suddenly opened her eyes wide. Shaking off the chilling cold, she was conscious only of the heat of her blood and, as though that heat was urging her on, she raised a cry that was completely unbecoming of a nun.

“Damn it, Kuon! Are you just going to die here for nothing? Kuon! If you win, I'll give myself to you. Sarah Pushelko would never sell her body, even if the lord of a country said he wanted it and offered me my weight in gold, and then the same again in jewels. I've given my body to God, and it doesn't come that cheap. But Kuon, I set the value of your victory higher. My body was supposed to ascend to Heaven as untainted as my soul, but I'll let you hold me if your arms are covered in the blood of your defeated enemy!”

Did he hear that shout? Kuon desperately kept away from Raga, who was hurling blows straight at him. Each one of them was heavy and sharp. Even if he had been able to use his dominant hand, it was by no means sure that he would have been able to win.

Raga was still cutting down the distance between them. He was not about to make the same mistake twice. He struck at Kuon's shoulders, aimed to entangle his feet and destroy his stance, determined not to allow him a single chance to counter-attack.

It was terrifying. Kuon felt as though his entrails were frozen with fear, knowing that he was on the brink of having his head cut off or one of his limbs severed.

But that was only for now. He had felt the same kind of fear when he had decided to fight Raga. But he had a will of iron: his determination was unshakable, and he would survive and win at all cost, to personally save Lord Leo from danger... – saying that would be a lie.

If Kuon had left the mountain without fighting Raga – perhaps thanks to a deal with Suo brought about by Sarah's self-proclaimed 'superb negotiation skills' – he would certainly have been tormented by the same nightmare for the rest of eternity.

Day and night, by his pillow, at his feet, on either side of him, the spirit of the fisherman he had pierced with a sword at his coming-of-age ceremony would appear before him, thrusting blades into Kuon's body from all directions, then searing him in hellfire hotter than flames, even though they wouldn't leave a single burn mark on him.

That was the stagnant sludge that was binding Kuon. The days he had spent in the mountains where he had been born and raised, the beliefs, the customs, the people, the voices chanting incantations, the blood that had been spilled – all of them were fetters that bound his limbs and heart.

He needed to sever them.

That didn't mean discarding his past, but he had to settle things with his own hands, so that the past would stay in the past, and would not cast its shadow over the future.

Kuon gazed at Raga, whose face was now close to his. More than half the mask had already peeled off and fallen away. Diu's eyes blazed with light.

Raga's sword crashed head-on and hard against the blade Kuon held. The shock of the impact ran like lightning from Kuon's left wrist to his shoulder, and he dropped his sword.

The crowd's excitement swelled to its peak. The fierce surge of heat that blew up from the ground seemed like it could knock down the stars hanging in the night sky.

Yet that terrifying rush of heat vanished in an instant.

It happened just after Raga had taken the half-a-step needed to land the finishing blow.

Kuon once more vanished from his sight.

It was a tactic that overturned the difference in physique. By making it look like he was throwing everything into defending himself with his sword, Kuon had drawn Raga's eyes to the upper part of his body. And then, timing the loss of his sword for a point where escape was no longer possible, he had instantly slipped between Raga's legs. Kuon grabbed on to Raga's ankle as he rolled, and ended up behind him. And he didn't give him the chance to even look back.

Kuon flung a rock the size of a fist, which he had picked up as he rolled, into the back of Raga's head.

It was a terribly primitive end to a duel between swordsmen of outstanding skill.

Raga toppled forward without making a sound.

The men who had been leaning forward on all sides of the ravine, their fists raised and their mouths wide open, all suddenly froze.

Afterwards, only silence remained.

Part 4

Within the sanctuary of Tei Tahra, 'time', which had moved steadily and unfalteringly forward ever since the days of the distant past right up until the present, suddenly seemed to grind to a halt.

That was how great the shock of Warrior Raga's defeat was to the mountain people.

However... time could not stop. That was, after all, no more than an illusion. The one who shattered that moment that held them all spellbound was Sarah, the outsider to the mountains.

“You did it!”

As she shouted with joy, Mist, who was next to her, called out to the village chief who was at the top of the cliff.

“Suo.”

Whereupon, Suo, repeatedly blinking his eyes in astonishment, raised his arm.

“The contest has been decided,” he announced in sonorous voice.

In that moment, a violent tremor seemed to jolt the 'time' which clung to the ravine's surroundings, and they were suddenly enveloped in noise and commotion the like of which had never yet been seen there. Almost none of those present were able to wrap their heads around what they had just seen, and around how the fight had ended.

And that was why some of them started to speculate:

“Did Kuon use the wiles of evil spirits?”

Others, however, objected, still half dumb with amazement.

“No, if he'd done that, there's no way Raga would have been defeated. Since he's a being who devours evil spirits.”

While the winner, Kuon, crouched down, breathing raggedly, several shaman, along with some of the guards who protected the priestesses, moved towards the loser, Raga.

He was only unconscious for a few minutes. The soldiers were carrying him away to receive medical treatment, but he shook them off and got down to stand on his own two feet.

“Kill me.”

Raga – the one who had once been Diu Wei – spoke with a hate-filled glare directed at Kuon.

“Raga cannot be defeated as long as he still lives. Kill me, Kuon. If you don't, then I haven't lost yet. Come me at me again. I'll even free both your arms. Well fight until one of us dies. Well, come on!”

Raga continued to howl, but since Suo had already spoken, the match had already been decided. Although he was staggering and swaying, he would have continued to move towards Kuon, except that the heads of unit, who had been there to monitor the fight, blocked his way and removed him from the ravine.

Meanwhile, Suo repeatedly hurled his voice – “Quiet, quiet!” – at the crowd which was still making a commotion. But the shock was so great that he was not having much success. However, the elder priestess, Mist, who had appeared next to him at some point, spoke:

“Warrior Raga has lost.”

Although her voice was by no means loud, it held enough pressure to make everyone there swallow their breath and stop moving. As the crowd looked towards her, Priestess Mist spread out her arms on either side of her, like a withered tree.

“The warrior who should never have lost, has been defeated. You all know what that means. God has handed down His verdict. He has granted victory to the side in the right. That it is to say that, yes, our Lord, Divine Tei Tahra, desired Kuon's victory. Or, more accurately, rather than Kuon's victory, what He desired was that Kuon would overturn the chief's decision.”

Thereupon, Chief Suo knelt at her feet.

“In light of this verdict, I acknowledge that I misunderstood the voice of God that the priestesses relayed to me. Although I have been granted the title of 'chief', I am, after all, no more than a insignificant existence, brought to life by Tei Tahra's divine protection. How about you all?”

“We too,” one of the heads of unit struck his sword into the ground. “We too are those who exist within the mountain god, Tei Tahra's divine protection.”

As the heads knelt one after another, the crowd too, amazed and bewildered, dropped to their knees and offered prayers to Tei Tahra.

Each had their own thoughts and feelings – including the heads and the priestesses – but for those of the tribe living in the great mountains, these were easily swallowed up by the deity, the spells, and the inumerable customs rooted in their religious beliefs. At the climax of the duel, they had encouraged Raga and booed angrily at Kuon, but it was a fact that their god had granted his judgement.

They all of them fell silent.

Amidst them, Kuon remained crouching on the ground. For a while, he couldn't even move, and didn't feel like doing anything except breathing.

How much time went by?

By the time he realised it, the row of torches had left from around the ravine, and the human figures had also vanished. Kuon was taken to a house, and was given treatment by a shaman. Close to his ear, Sarah never stopped scolding him, but he barely registered it. At most, all he heard were things like, “you... a guy like you,” or “honestly... honestly...” and nothing else. Yet sometimes, she sniffled and sobbed, and her strained voice made him feel strangely embarrassed.

Eventually, both Sarah and the shaman left, and Mist appeared in their place.

“All has unfolded according to God's guidance.” After praising the winner with those words, she then asked, “...But, what about that? Kuon, your victory was certainly in accordance with God's will, but leaving Raga alive was not. That looked like something you decided on for yourself. Why was that?”

“Well...” said Kuon, gazing down at the bowl at his feet. There were still some faint traces of mashed up medicinal plants inside it.

There was one question which had always remained with him. When he had been shut away in that prison in the rock, just after Datta Wei had died, and just before the priestesses were going to ask the god's voice to judge Kuon, somebody had saved him. For a long time, he hadn't been able to figure out who that could have been, but then he had wondered if it hadn't been Aqua.

He had no proof. It was just that, among those of his age, she was pretty much the only one he had ever spoken to outside of during fights. Yet when he thought of that girl, with whom he had only had the slightest of connections, actually breaking the rules of the mountain to save him, he couldn't help but reject the idea. For the people of the tribe, the rules were absolute. If you didn't uphold them, you couldn't hope to live. And this wasn't something that they gritted their teeth and endured; for those who were going to live their lives in the mountains, this was as natural as the air they breathed.

Those who, just a short while earlier, had hurled jeers at Kuon, but who had, in the end, devoutly accepted the results of the match, were also kith and kin, in whom the customs and the way of life of the mountains were rooted just as firmly as they were in Kuon. It was because of that, because of a longing for home that made it hard to part from it, or perhaps because of an obsessive love that prevented parting, that he had set out to return to this land.

Under normal circumstances, it should be absolutely impossible for someone to help another escape when they had been locked in the rocky prison, and were awaiting God's judgement. And yet, among Kuon's acquaintances, there was already someone who had broken the rules of the great mountains.

That person had spoken lies to lay a trap for a man from the same household, and because of that, the head of the family had lost his life. Yet far from acknowledging his own duplicity, he had spun more lies and had pushed the blame onto the one he had tried to ensnare earlier.

Needless to say, it was Diu Wei.

Kuon had been trapped, blamed, and locked away in the rocky prison. That night, having lost his freedom, he had struggled, screamed, pleaded, then, finally, wept.

Then how about Diu? How had he spent that night? Had been satisfied, now that the 'unwanted child' he had always hated had finally been brought down? While Kuon was crying and screaming, did Diu lie in his own bed, gloating?

No.

Kuon knew. At this point in time, he understood it so well, it hurt.

Diu was anything but impious. Just like Kuon and the others in this land, he was a warrior living within Tei Tahra's divine protection. He spoke words of joy and celebration when Tei Tahra granted them a good hunt, and if an enemy invaded, he would fight with courage and to the death, offering his soul to their god. That was the kind of man he was. And because of that...

Diu Wei must have been in a similar state to Kuon. Although he lay down, he could not sleep. He had done something that meant he could no longer face Tei Tahra. On top of that, because of it, he had caused the death of his own father. He must have been in pain. He must have been caught in sorrow and regrets. And also... again like Kuon, he must have been afraid. And that was why, just before night turned to dawn, he might have helped Kuon escape.

He had laid the blame of his own crimes on Kuon, so perhaps, by releasing him, he had hoped to lighten the guilt and terror weighing on his heart.

Freeing Kuon was an act that also broke the rules. In order to save himself, Diu had broken another taboo.

After you left, it was almost frightening how Diu continued practising day and night, as though he was possessed by the Spirits of battle – Aqua had said.

He had probably had no choice but to do so.

He had no choice but to throw himself entirely into something that would help shake off the ever-present fear that held him in its coils. And he had no choice but to prove that he was someone who would offer his very blood and flesh to Tei Tahra. That was why he had been so desperate to earn the position as Raga. Just like how, even after he had left them, Kuon had yearned to fulfil the prophesy that he would one day “bring gold to the mountains.”

...All of this was nothing more than Kuon's own speculation.

But when he thought about it that way, his feelings of hatred and blame towards Diu had already vanished from within him. In their place, he felt a sort of sympathy, a certain feeling of closeness. There was someone else who tasted the same sense of alienation and fear that Kuon had experienced for so long.

“I had to prove it.” When Kuon answered Mist, it was not with his real thoughts. “I had to show everyone that unlike Raga, my determination went beyond fighting to the death. Otherwise, even if I'd killed him, I probably couldn't have convinced everyone, deep down.”

“Oh, it looks like you've started thinking about some complicated things,” Mist slurped some wheat porridge through a wooden tube that hung at her waist. She held it out to Kuon.

While holding up his hand to refuse it, Kuon said,

“Granny Mist, there's something I want to ask you.”

“What is it?”

“Why did you bring Sarah to the prison?”

“Wasn't that topic already discussed in the prison?”

“You heard the story from Sarah, and because it got you interested, you decided to go together with her. But Granny, even though you said that, Atall doesn't have anything to do with these mountains. And yet...”

“Kuon, we are small beings caught in the embrace of great plans. God is beside us, but His voice does not whisper to us about every little thing. I do not base my every thought on the voice of our Lord, the mountain god. I have my own eyes, my own ears, and my own head to think.”

Kuon had no idea what that meant, or if that even answered his question in the first place. Seeing his sullen expression as he stayed silent, Mist cackled shrilly with laughter.

“And here I only just praised you a minute ago, but that's all you've got? Kuon, I'll reveal just a bit of the answer to you. Not all of us have clouded eyes. Take me in particular: there are things that I see simply because the light barely reaches these eyes of mine.”

Did that mean that Mist had things she divined for herself? Kuon stared at the wooden tube at her waist. If she offered it to him again, he intended to accept it, but it remained hanging on her belt the entire time.

After that, time passed in the blink of an eye.

First of all, the day after the duel, another judgement was performed over whether Kuon had 'led Datta Wei into a trap.'

The result was his complete acquittal. No doubt, in the confusion of the battlefield, Diu Wei had misunderstood what had happened.

Although from Kuon's point of view, this was the correct and obvious ruling, if he looked at things from a slightly wiser standpoint, he definitely believed that if he had waited for a judgement immediately after Datta's death – if he had not fled from the mountains – his fate would have been to end up condemned to burn at the stake.

Here was the true meaning of Mist's words. The voice of God was not omnipotent. The divine voice, which should have been able to quieten and to lead the people, was sometimes controlled by the will of the people.

Afterwards, in the village, the men hurried about making preparations for going into battle, while the women had their hands full getting provisions ready.

About five hundred of the men would be leaving.

This was more than half the active soldiers from the units. On average, there were about fifty soldiers to a household in the mountains, although a household like the Wei included about two hundred warriors. But even if they were called that, most of the men in the settlement were engaged in work as hunters or fishermen, and those who specialised exclusively in warfare were only Raga, and the special guards who protected the priesthood.

Which meant that nearly half of the male working force would be leaving, but in these mountains, it had always been normal for the elderly who had retired from the forefront, and the women who kept the homes, to pick up bows and guns whenever intruders broke into their sacred mountain land.

Besides which, the heads of unit did not all join the reinforcements. Instead, most of them actually stayed in the village, having selected those who ranked next after them to act as the leaders of their platoons. The heads would need to draw up plans for hunting and fishing in the village, which was about to become short-handed, and that would be a burden far greater than heading into battle.

One after another, the men had put their names forward in order to make up the five hundred. This was, after all, a holy fight, sanctioned by Tei Tahra's divine will.

Achievements earned in this battle would surely be equal to that of defending the great mountains against foreign enemies, or perhaps the glory achieved would be even greater. It wasn't as though the mountains were continuously under attack, and the young men who had not yet had an opportunity to offer their blood and flesh to Tei Tahra were especially eager to volunteer, and among those whose application was rejected, there were many who wept tears of bitter regret.

The problem was horses.

There were horses within the great mountains, but not that many. If they gathered all the ones from the village at the foot of the mountains, they would have no more than two hundred. Yet crossing the Kesmai Plains without horses would take several times more days that Kuon and Sarah had needed. There was no way of knowing what the current situation was for Lord Leo, but from the point it had been at when they had left, it was obvious that they could not afford to leisurely take their time.

Which was why Kuon had the horses which had already been gathered be brought together, and decided to lead an advance party of two hundred riders. The remaining three hundred men would travel on foot. Sarah offered to guide them.

Apart from the meetings at which this plan was proposed, Kuon at first barely spoke to anyone in the village of his birth. To start with, there was no one for him to get closer to.

There were still some, even now, who looked at him with hostility, or who loathed him for being 'unwanted spawn' with mixed and foreign blood, but Kuon now held the position of one who had proven Tei Tahra's judgement with his own body. As I have mentioned repeatedly, the voice of God was all that was righteous on the mountain, and so the ill will and animosity towards Kuon had already considerably softened. Simply put, they were probably puzzled as to how best to approach him now.

Within all that, it was the village's children who were the first to draw up to him.

They simply felt admiration for someone strong, and when Kuon defeated Raga, their interest in himwas unparalleled. On the first day, they watched his every move from a distance, but on the next day, they shyly came up to him with the swords and spears that were used during training.

“Can you teach us to fight?” they begged him.

While Kuon was wondering what to do, Aqua Holo, who just happened to be passing by, called out to him teasingly, “Why don't you do it? Weren't you good at training the children from the Wei?”

“I'm busy.”

“Oh, really? After the meeting yesterday, you seemed to be completely free though.”

With the children as a point of contact, their parents and older brothers – not their actual family members, but their elders within the same unit – also shortened the distance with Kuon and, on the third day, the senior brothers of the Wei, with whom he had once stood shoulder-to-shoulder, invited him to go hunting. Since a large amount of provisions needed to be prepared, a large number of households were currently heading out to bring down prey.

Aqua, who had earlier made fun of Kuon, was also one of the hunters.

'She' would also be joining the fighting as a member of the Holo. From Kuon had heard, nowadays, 'her' skill at archery was inferior to none of the men in the village. Which was only to be expected, since 'she' had been chosen to join the ashinaga hunt.

“That guy is already an excellent hunter. It'll be 'his' first time in battle, but given that it's 'him', I wouldn't be surprised even if 'he' took three enemy heads with 'his' bow.”

On the one hand, there were voices which sung 'her' praises.

“Is 'her' heart and soul already that of a man? What a shame.”

On the other, there was also a scene in which a husband murmured absentmindedly as he gazed at Aqua's firm waist, only to shut his mouth after receiving a terrifying glare from his wife.

Since the person 'herself' had decided to live as a man, since the priestesses had recognised this, and given that 'she' also joined in with hunting and combat, within the great mountains, Aqua was no longer a 'woman'. Having 'her' own family was of course out of the question, but 'she' could not have relations with a man either. These too were the 'rules'. If, for example, Aqua tempted a man with 'her' womanly features, an order might be given to 'her' from the priestesses or the chief to cut off 'her' breasts.

“What a waste.”

It wasn't only men who held that thought; Sarah also shared it.

“Even though she's such a beauty. If she showed herself in a town, she could lead any rich man or noble by the nose. But in spite of that, to have to cut off her breasts...”

“Not right this second. And anyway, looking at it, it doesn't seem like it's going to come up for a while... Oww!”

Kuon, who had been casting repeated glances at Aqua's figure in the distance, had his foot firmly trod on by Sarah.

“What was that for!”

“A man was watching a 'man' with strange eyes.”

As the two of them embarked on one of their usual quarrels, the people of the tribe watched them curiously for a while. Apart from in his childhood, it was a new sight for them to see Kuon with his face flushed beet-red, and his emotions laid bare.

The day of departure finally arrived.

Early in the morning, the young priestesses performed a dance in prayer for victory. The elder priestess, Mist, placed portions of armour in the fire and observed the cracks that formed.

“A good omen,” she announced.

When the armoured warriors, with their faces daubed bright red from their war patterns, heard this, their excitement rose in crescendo.

When Kuon was saddling his horse, Mist and one of the shamans approached from behind him.

“Take this,” the shaman held out a small bottle. The liquid that shook within it was the colour of dark dye dissolved in honey.

The shaman explained that it was horned snake poison in which a decoction of several medicinal herbs had been added. It was poisonous to humans but, at the same time, it was also used to neutralise the poison of the ashinagas that lived on the outskirts of the great mountains. It was this medicine which had saved Sarah's life when she fell unconscious after being attacked by an ashinaga.

By rights, only a shaman could handle those kinds of poisons and medicine. Since even carrying it around was said to be unadvisable, even the ashinaga hunters like Aqua's group had not had any. Kuon had no idea why he was being made an exception.

“It is tribute to the warrior who defeated Raga,” the shaman, half of whose face was covered with a cloth, spoke calmly. “We cannot leave the great mountains. You should use this if you are attacked on the way by ashinaga. Although there is no guarantee that it will work perfectly.”

Since Mist nodded at him to “take it,” Kuon decided to accept it with gratitude.

When everyone had finally finished with their preparations,

“This fight had been decided by our lord, the mountain god. Do not be concerned with your lives; the souls of those who fought bravely will be called to God's side.”

Most of the men who now had Mist's voice at their back, and who had been raised in the cradle of the mountains, would be leaving them for the first time in their lives. According to the plan, five hundred soldiers would leave the mountains at the same time, but the two hundred on horseback would go north across the Kesmai Plains without waiting for the for those on foot.

Kuon descended the mountains while bathed in the light of the early morning sun, and urged his horse towards the entrance to the sun-baked Kesmai Plains.

Yet a mere five days after leaving the mountains, his group was caught in an unexpected ambush.