VI: The Sun Sets on Eyland
THE king of Eyland and his family discreetly hid in a horse-drawn wagon, exited Gardon through the rear gate, and began making their way away from the city. It was a humiliating flight, but the king’s vassals had risked their lives to secure it. A single thought made the king’s chest seethe with emotion: One day, I’ll destroy Farune, whatever it takes!
He was headed west. The plan was to obtain safe harbor from a friendly nation, which would also be getting something in the bargain: the king of Eyland would become a pawn they could make use of in the future.
Besides the king and his family, the wagon was also loaded with valuables, mainly the royal family heirlooms. These would serve as bargaining chips in any negotiations going forward, but they were also to blame for the state of the wagon. Crucially, it was packed so full there wasn’t enough room for food or water.
If need be, we can just buy it with gold, the king simply thought. He didn’t even consider the possibility of being frugal. Both he and his family had been raised as royalty, so they didn’t know the meaning of self-restraint. They were by no means arrogant, but they didn’t pay attention to such things as making their scant food supply last, and they consumed it in no time at all.
The driver of the wagon, a knight who had been chosen for his loyalty, was greatly troubled—he for one knew the risk of trying to obtain food in the midst of an escape.
I can’t believe it, he thought. If they were going to eat this much, they should’ve brought food, not treasure.
The morning after they had finished off their food supply, the knight timidly reported to the king that there was nothing left to eat.
“Then go get some supplies in a town or village nearby,” the king ordered. “I have plenty of gold.” He believed that the citizens would obey him—this was his own kingdom, after all—and easily come to an agreement once he paid them.
Needless to say, the loyal knight found it impossible to disobey his king’s command. He just replied, “Yes, sir,” and decided to stop at a village that was close by.
It appeared to be a typical, run-of-the-mill village. However, the villagers eyed the approaching wagon with suspicion.
The knight observed the situation from his perch. To him, the villagers looked ill, or rather, vaguely uncanny. However, if his party didn’t obtain food here, it would be quite a distance before the next village. So, the knight spotted a plump middle-aged man among the villagers with a sympathetic air about him, brought the wagon close, and addressed him politely.
“Excuse me, would you mind sharing some of your food? I’d like as much as possible. I’ll pay you handsomely.”
“Food? In this village?” The man looked curiously at the knight. His tone was a little rude, but that was understandable; the knight was dressed as an ordinary coachman, after all.
“That’s right,” the knight confirmed. “Do you not have any?” He felt slightly disconcerted by the man’s reply.
“Well…we don’t not have any. But are you really sure you want it?”
For a moment, the knight was at a loss, but then he said, “I am. Could you bring it here?” He reasoned that if he was given something strange, he could just dispose of it.
“Indeed I can,” the man replied cheerily. He was friendly, but his eyes were strangely intense.
Something strange is going on, the knight thought, watching the man’s back as he left hurriedly. The knight reached behind himself into the wagon and pulled his sword close. His combat training meant he wouldn’t lose in a fight with some commoners, even if he was at somewhat of a numerical disadvantage.
“Is something wrong?” the king asked from inside the wagon.
“No, nothing in particular. Just a precaution.”
After a brief wait, the knight could see the man returning, carrying a wooden tray with what looked to be a large quantity of meat on top.
Damn, I should’ve asked for food that kept well. The knight regretted not having been more specific. However, as the man got closer, and as it became abundantly clear what type of meat was being offered to him, regret became the least of his worries.
That’s monster meat!
It did appear to be cooked, but with its poisonous appearance and intense stench that repelled even insects, there was no mistaking it. The knight felt a chill run down his spine, and he hurriedly tried to start the wagon moving again, but before he knew it, the villagers had surrounded it. It was impossible to get away like this.
“Where are you going? I thought you wanted food,” the man with the meat said, his eyes glinting with a fierce light. “Did you know? There are two kinds of people in the world: those who eat monster meat, and those who don’t.”
The villagers stared at the knight as though trying to ascertain whether he was friend or foe; there was no telling what they would do if they discovered he was the latter.
The knight used his right hand to draw the sword he had placed behind him and brandished it threateningly in the air. “Out of the way! I won’t hesitate to hurt anyone who—”
But the moment he was about to finish speaking, the arm holding his sword fell to the ground.
“Huh?” he exclaimed. The sight that greeted his eyes was that of a brown-haired woman wearing a headband. She was lightly armored and held a sword in one hand. What the knight didn’t know was that this was Karen of the Hundred.
“This village is under Farunian protection,” she said. “I’ll show no mercy to those who seek to harm it.”
What…what is she saying? The knight’s vision warped, then he swayed to the right like a puppet with its strings cut, falling from his perch to the ground with a thud. He had lost consciousness due to the blood loss from his missing right arm.
“What the?! What’s going on?!” the king cried out. Sensing a disturbance, he peeked his face out from the wagon. There, he saw that the villagers and several female warriors had surrounded him.