Chapter 28:
The Intemperance of the Anhalt Kingdom
FAUST VON POLIDORO, THE EMBODIMENT OF beauty and wrath, is very much the definition of the intemperance of the Anhalt Kingdom.
His dignified form and his hefty sword can make even a woman groan with his unmatched might.
His terrifying steed races through the battlefield like a fierce flame during a fight.
The blood of wrath flows through his brawny physique as he glistens like the sun.
Those exposed to his light and beauty will forget the battle, stuck in a trance, before their lives are done.
Faust von Polidoro, the embodiment of wrath!
Faust von Polidoro, the embodiment of flames!
Faust von Polidoro, our eternal enemy, a worthy opponent for Villendorf and our land!
You are our beloved man.
You’re the male knight who managed to slay Lord Reckenbell, our greatest hero to this day.
✦ ✦ ✦
“Another heroic poem about Faust von Polidoro, huh?” a noble said. “They’ve been popular these days.”
“Well, he’ll officially be dispatched as Anhalt’s envoy,” another replied. “I can’t blame people for getting excited over him. The minstrels have to make their livings too—they’re quick to pick up on society’s trends.”
The two nobles were walking along the streets of Villendorf’s royal capital when they heard the song from a minstrel. One was a military officer, while the other was a civil servant. The two held different titles, but were good friends—their households were also close. If either of their houses had given birth to a boy, he likely would’ve been sent to the other house to become a husband. Unfortunately, neither house was blessed with a son. But they didn’t mind; perhaps they could share a husband in the future. As the two walked on, their minds as one, the civil servant cocked her head in thought.
“I do wonder what kind of man he is,” she said. “He’s more than two meters tall, brawny, and has apparently got a noble face. Above all, he defeated our hero, Lord Reckenbell. I can hardly imagine what he looks like. Is he truly human?”
Was he exactly as the minstrel sang? If it were all true, he couldn’t be called a person. He was beyond a superhuman—perhaps he’d be a demon. In fact, Lord Reckenbell had tried to court him during their duel; if he’d lost, he would have been her second husband. The civil servant wasn’t sure how true that was, but she knew that all she had to do was ask. Unfortunately, she couldn’t pry the details of that battle from the military officer beside her.
“As you know, during the Campaign of Anhalt—I believe Anhalt calls it the Campaign of Villendorf, and that might be the correct name since they are the victors—I served at Lord Reckenbell’s side,” the military officer said. “I joined the battle as a knight.”
“I know,” the civil servant replied.
Could she finally hear the tale? She was dying to learn the details of that campaign, but her friend simply refused to speak of the battle, no matter how many times she inquired. Perhaps those involved with the campaign had received a gag order; if the military officer was finally willing to talk, the gag order might have been lifted.
The civil servant tried to understand the palace’s actions. Anhalt hadn’t dishonored Lord Reckenbell in death. Faust von Polidoro had acted in accordance with the rules, and amid the cheers of his kingdom on the battlefield, he’d returned her head to Villendorf. It’s our culture to praise the strong, the civil servant thought. Why, then, was there a gag order in place at all?
“He doesn’t possess the fierceness of a human as you’ve assumed,” the military officer said. “He’s like a demon.”
“A demon?” the civil servant asked. “So he isn’t a superhuman, then.”
“No. He’s got demonic qualities, no doubt—he’s a demon with the nickname ‘Beautiful Beast.’” The military officer stopped and glanced at the tavern beside her. “Why don’t we have a pint?”
“I’ll be with you for as long as you like,” the civil servant replied. “In fact, if you tell me the tale of that campaign, it’ll be my treat.”
“Then I’ll drink to my heart’s content. We don’t have work today.”
The military officer opened the door to the tavern and strolled right in. She took a seat at a small table and called out to the store’s owner.
“Two ales, please!” she shouted. She paused before she continued her story. “I was first stunned by him when he sliced down one of our knights as he proudly shouted his name across the battlefield.”
“If I recall the tales correctly, he said, ‘I, Faust von Polidoro, challenge those who wish to test their luck! Fight me if you dare!’” the civil servant replied.
“There was no point at all to that gag order. I cannot help but wonder why the palace decided to issue such a meaningless command.”
The civil servant unwittingly allowed the military officer to go off on a tangent. The former had simply recited what she’d heard from the songs about Lord Reckenbell’s battle. The military officer clicked her tongue angrily.
“If you know that much, I don’t have to explain that bit,” the military officer said. “When he roared his name, I was by Lord Reckenbell’s side. Even from afar, I could see his impressive size, and his loud voice echoed across the plain. He wore chainmail befitting a low-ranked noble, and yet he shone like the sun.”
“Was he that beautiful?” the civil servant asked.
“Indeed he was. He had this bewitching, magical beauty to him. His face was dyed red with his wrath, and he stood out amid the confused, scrawny shrimps of Anhalt’s army. Only he understood that Anhalt was backed into a corner because of Lord Reckenbell’s strategy.”
The Anhalt soldiers were like cats that tried to flee from a sinking ship. I think I read a similar story about a tiger that tried to survive in the water. Two pints of ale were placed on the table.
“I can only assume she did it instinctively,” the military officer continued. “Lord Reckenbell used her magical longbow and fired an arrow straight at the chest of that dazzling man.”
“And then what happened?” the civil servant asked.
“He parried it. He used the hilt of his greatsword.”
“The hilt?! He used that to parry Lord Reckenbell’s arrow?!”
Her arrows had obliterated countless savages of the north—the tribes that plundered—and wiped them off the face of the world. She wouldn’t just kill a person with a single shot; there were legends that her arrows could take down three people in one go. How could this man so easily defy her might?
“I believe Faust killed three more people after that,” the military officer said. “I honestly don’t remember. All I focused on was how he parried four of Lord Reckenbell’s shots with one arm.”
“Did he have some sort of arrow-deflecting spell cast upon him?” the civil servant asked.
“Perhaps so. I wouldn’t be surprised if I were told that God had ordained his victory.”
The military officer chugged her ale down. She asked a waiter for seconds before she continued her story.
“That alone can convey that he’s clearly something beyond superhuman,” she said. “But above all, he was most sublime when he appeared in front of us—in front of Lord Reckenbell.”
“What kind of man was he?” the civil servant inquired.
“The songs and poems by the minstrels don’t exaggerate. The only difference is that his military attire was a piece of lousy chainmail, completely unsuitable for a man like him. And his greatsword, engraved with a magic sigil, emanated a terrifying aura that drew the eye. No…” The military officer paused and shook her head. “He looked absolutely beautiful even when he was only in his chainmail. He had no helmet or shield either. His military attire was chainmail and a greatsword, along with a fine horse. The steed exuded charm and terror; even in Villendorf, you won’t often come across an animal that splendid. But that was all. He carried only the bare minimum of equipment as he stood before Lord Reckenbell.”
The military officer had failed to notice that the tavern had grown utterly silent. Everyone, including the tavern owner, lent an ear to her words.
“And that demon raised his greatsword high in the air under the sun’s rays,” the military officer said. “‘Knight Captain of Villendorf, I challenge you to a duel!’ he roared.”
“How did Lord Reckenbell respond?” the civil servant asked.
“She accepted his challenge on one condition.”