"The rasping breath of the Strigoi, like phlegm clogging its throat, echoed around the campsite. The soldiers, still reeling from Rond's death, gripped their weapons tightly, shouting to shake off the fear clutching at their hearts. As I mentioned before, the voices of the spear-wielding brothers rang out loudly, and the soldiers, huddled together in a wary stance, pressed shoulder to shoulder around the central campfire, heightening the tension among everyone. I, too, drew my sword, pointing it toward the source of the sound, circling the camp to keep watch for the lurking beast."
Reave, Nia, and Kein, engrossed in Leben's tale, chewed on rabbit meat as quietly as possible, careful not to make a sound, and sipped from their mugs, listening intently to Leben's story.
Gravel, sitting a little away from Leben, scribbled leisurely on a piece of paper faintly illuminated by the firelight, the scratching of the pen barely audible. Beside Gravel, Iris sat with her eyes closed, leaning against a tree, listening to Leben's story.
Diara, too, had her eyes closed, occasionally spreading her palm to conjure a small magic circle, half-listening to Leben's tale while focusing on her magical practice.
The hoot of an owl rang out, clear and loud in the stillness. After a brief moment of silence, Leben continued the story.
"And then, the Strigoi moved. Beyond the tip of my sword, I saw its rage-filled eyes, its mouth gaping in what seemed like a mocking grin, revealing sharp fangs, and its razor-like claws leading the way as it charged toward me."
The atmosphere grew more intense, and Nia, eyes wide with excitement, listened closely to Leben's tale.
"The monster's hideous face loomed larger and larger. Time seemed to slow, the tension so thick I could feel the gulp of my swallow slide down my throat. The beast moved so fast that dodging to the side was impossible, and swinging my sword was out of the question—its claw-tipped arm was already too close. All I could imagine was the sharp point of those claws sinking into my flesh, my mind blank, unable to form a single new thought in that moment!"
"What happened next?!"
Nia blurted out, leaning forward abruptly, voice breaking the suspense as Leben paused at the critical moment.
"Ha ha ha! I'm grateful you're listening so intently, Nia."
Leben said with a chuckle, mimicking the motion of the Strigoi's claw with his hand before resuming the story.
"My friend, my kindred spirit, my trusted steed Leska saved me. From somewhere, Leska came charging, head thrashing, shoving me out of the way and slamming into the Strigoi."
"Ohh!"
Nia exclaimed in awe, glancing at Leska, who lay resting by the wagon, fast asleep.
"With Leska's rough help, I went tumbling across the ground, crashing into a pile of branches meant for the campfire before finally coming to a stop. From a distance, I heard Leska's cry, the shout of someone thrusting a spear with mustered courage, the terrified screams of others, and the occasional twang of a bowstring. All of it echoed in my ears..."
"Staggering to my feet, I caught sight of the soldiers locked in battle with the Strigoi. I raised my sword and charged forward. In that fleeting moment, I saw armor torn apart by the beast's swinging arms, blood spraying everywhere."
"The two spear-wielding brothers, skilled with their weapons, stood at the forefront, jabbing their spear tips at the monster. Nilz, hands trembling, fired arrows. Bloodstains littered the ground beneath the Strigoi, which roared with a sound unlike any mountain beast. A headless soldier lay lifeless on the ground, another wailed in agony, clutching the stump of a severed arm. It was chaos. Driven by the single thought of saving even one more soldier, I rushed toward the beast and swung my sword down."
"The sensation of cutting through thick hide and flesh coursed through my hand. Blood sprayed, pain seared through my body, and the Strigoi's deafening roar made my ears ring. The shouts of the soldiers, Leska's cries, the pain surging again, my vision blurring, blood splattering before my eyes—I fought the monster in a haze, barely able to recall the details. All I could hear was my own ragged breathing, mingling with the pounding of my heart."
"So... the Strigoi, did it finally..."
Nia began, voice trailing off.
"Ha! If that beast hadn't died, would I be sitting here telling you all this story?" Leben laughed.
"Of course, the victory belonged to me and the soldiers. But the cost was heavy. Thull, the younger of the spear-wielding brothers who dreamed of barley farming, lost an arm. Sid, the mule driver, and Dwal fell to the Strigoi's blows and never rose again. Bult, who bravely drove a spear deep into the beast's back while shouting, took wounds too deep to see the next day."
"Fultz, Graipen, and Burrens also fell to the monster's rampage. Just the night before, they'd sat by the campfire, talking about the coming winter and how many logs they'd stacked for the cold—ordinary lives. Seeing them lying dead before me... it was painful."
Leben stared into the crackling campfire, picking up a nearby branch and stirring the flames with a long sigh, suppressing the heavy emotions.
"Afterward, in a silence where no one spoke, we gathered the fallen soldiers' bodies and cleaned up the wrecked campsite, hoping time would pass quickly. The survivors carried their own pain. Thull's older brother, unable to protect his sibling, held the blood-soaked, bandaged Thull in his arms, weeping. Nilz blamed himself, believing the Strigoi had followed him to the camp, cursing time that couldn't be undone."
"But what can you do? What's done can't be undone. All we can do is wait for time to dull those regrets."
Leben frowned, a bitter smile crossing his face. For a moment, the only sound was the occasional pop of sparks from the fire.
"Come now, no need to be so somber. There's no such thing as a meaningless death. Because of their sacrifice, others survived, didn't they?"
Leben grinned, clinking his mug against those of Kein, Reave, and Nia.
"Mmm, good ale! Too fine for a clumsy storyteller like me, don't you think? Ha ha! So, what did you think? Just a trifling tale, wasn't it?"
Leben tilted his chin toward Gravel, who sat further away.
"Not at all, Sir. It was a fine story. Listening to your tales yesterday and today has been a joy."
Gravel replied with a nod of thanks.
And so, another day drew to a close for the caravan of two wagons heading toward Ves-Dinas. Nia pestered Leben for more stories, but with too much ale loosening the knight's tongue, the young Droko's wish for more tales of adventure went unfulfilled.
A Few Days Later
Diara's wagon and Buro's, laden with mana stones, had left the forest path and now traveled a road across a grassy plain dotted with low hills and short grass.
Unlike the past few days, Diara's wagon led the way. The creak of the wagon wheels mingled with Nia's voice and Leben's as they talked. Leben rode alongside the wagon, keeping pace, chatting with Nia, who sat beside Diara.
"Ha ha ha! So that's why you can't return to the arena for a while."
Leben said.
"That's right. I'll be traveling with Karka and learning swordsmanship from Master Iris." Nia replied.
"Hmm, I see. By the way, I didn't get to finish the aftermath of that night. Want to hear it, Nia Calagon?"
"Tell it, tell it!"
Nia nodded eagerly, eyes sparkling with anticipation.
"It's not as thrilling as you might expect, but... it was strange."
Leben said, stroking Leska's mane as memories surfaced.
"After the fight with the Strigoi, the remaining soldiers were in no condition to pursue the bandits, so we decided to descend the mountain back toward Chekka. 'Decided' might be generous—it wasn't just impossible; we barely managed to build hasty cairns for the fallen and fled the mountain like we were escaping."
Leben paused, stroking his beard as he swayed in the saddle, then continued speaking to Nia.
"By afternoon, as we headed toward Chekka, two riders approached from a distance, waving in greeting. They bore the crest of House Norend—four purple roses and four swords emblazoned on their cloaks—so we had no reason to be wary. We waved back and met them."
"House Norend? That's a count's house, right? From Rensillore..."
Kein, riding alongside and listening, chimed in.
"Exactly. You know your stuff. They were vassals of Lord Sarrt, the baron who hired me, under Rensillore's domain."
"Hmm... baron, count... what was a duke again?"
Nia muttered, puzzling over the titles.
"Duke, marquis, count, viscount, baron—that's the order of nobility, Nia."
Kein explained patiently.
"Ugh..." Nia groaned.
"Ha ha! No need to strain yourself memorizing it. Use them enough, and they'll stick. If not, they'll fade, so don't worry too much."
Leben said with a hearty laugh, comforting Nia, who clutched their head in frustration.
"Anyway, the man who introduced himself as a knight of House Norend explained why they stopped us. For some reason, he pointed to the sack on the packhorse, where we'd stashed the Strigoi's severed head, and said they needed to take it."
"What? That doesn't make sense! How did they even know the Strigoi's head was in the sack you and the soldiers packed? And even if they did, demanding it like that... isn't that a bit much?"
Reave, speaking louder than usual, pointed out the absurdity, clearly indignant.
"Exactly. The soldiers and I said much the same to the Norend knight. No weapons were drawn, but we stood there, mid-mountain, glaring at each other in a tense standoff. It didn't last long, though. The two Norend knights—one with strikingly pale skin, both hooded so I couldn't make out their faces clearly—stood out. The pale one said nothing, letting his companion do most of the talking, but there was something... unsettling about him. Not a word exchanged, not even a clear look at his face, yet his presence alone stirred an odd discomfort."
Leben furrowed his brow, trying to recall the strange knight more clearly.
"Maybe he just smelled bad?" Nia suggested.
"Ha ha ha! No, it wasn't that. If anything, a stench might've made him seem more human, and I wouldn't have felt that strange hostility."
Leben laughed loudly, shaking off the uneasy memory.
"Anyway, we couldn't settle things in the middle of the mountain, so I told them to come with us to Chekka. There, we'd report to Lord Sarrt that we failed to rout the bandits, show him the Strigoi's head as the cause, and let them try to claim or seize it from the baron himself."
"Well done. Even a count's knight can't disrespect a baron so easily." Kein said approvingly.
"As you'd expect, we returned to Chekka, and the two Norend knights accompanied us to the baron's castle. The outcome was predictable. Seeing the majesty of Chekka's manticore crest, the two knights shrank, sweating and stumbling over their words, unable to lift their heads. Later, I saw them leave Chekka with the beast's head packed in a large wooden crate... and I, once again, became a wandering knight, leaving Chekka behind."
With the clopping of Leska's hooves, Leben, swaying in the saddle, concluded the tale of that past adventure.
As one story ended, Nia's eager request for another rang out, and the voice of the wandering knight, clumsy but compelling, echoed along the road.