Editing Tales of Leo Attiel:Volume1 Chapter3 (section)

===Part 1===


Although the violence Rigaund had committed had come to light – the name of his victim was kept concealed as much as possible however – Sarah could not escape censure, and she was locked away in the same cellar where Kuon had been kept overnight.

Even so, it was an exception for wartime. Normally, a trial would have been held at the temple. Since Conscon did not fall under any country’s jurisdiction, its laws originated from the temple. She could have been stripped of her position as a nun, but, in all honesty, the temple could not currently afford to be fussy over one criminal. In fact, since Sarah had demonstrated her skill with a gun, she actually became sought-after as a soldier.

She was probably not going to be shut away for long. During that time, the group which was now headed by Matthew remained quiet; which was partly because the monks kept a strict eye on them. Their weapons were to remain confiscated unless an emergency arose.

With that, Conscon Temple returned to calm for the time being – but just as that seemed to be the case, things suddenly started moving.

It had been three days since Sarah had been imprisoned. Early that evening, just when it would soon be time for the night watchmen to go on duty, a man came rushing up, gasping for breath. He was from a unit which had been scouting out the area around the mountain. 

“Troops from Allion have been sighted!” he shouted out loud.

According to what he said, there were twenty or thirty cavalrymen, followed by about twice that many ordinary soldiers. It looked as though they were a large reconnaissance force. 

The mountain erupted into action. The clang of swords and armour rang like the drums of war, with the men’s deep voices acting as the chorus. Then, without waiting for instructions from the temple, the mercenaries wilfully advanced down the mountain paths. Since there was no set organisation of troops apart from the lookouts and the scouting units, those who could take action did so with enthusiasm. It wasn’t that there was absolutely no chain of command, but it was a fact that it took time for the higher-ups at the temple to respond, and it was made clear that both those handing down the orders and those receiving them were novices at this.

Although Percy Leegan did worry fleetingly about that fact, his youthful blood thrilled with wild excitement. He issued commands to his own platoon and chose no more than twenty as an attack force. There was no time to pull on armour. Each soldier held a lantern aloft as they raced down, and the enemy troops were detected in a village near the foot of the mountain. In their unit, only Percy was on horseback.

“Go!”

With just one word, they plunged towards the enemy group. His heart was beating wildly, and he had the illusion that it was doing so in step with the way his entire body was jolted up and down on horseback. The instant he saw an enemy face appear in sight within the red light of the flames, Percy thrust his spear at them. 

The enemy weren’t wearing armour either, perhaps because they wanted to be able to move lightly while on reconnaissance. When the spearhead was swallowed away out of Percy’s field of vision, he felt a heavy resistance, and, from his elbow to his shoulder, and then by way of his chest, the sound of a thud reverberated down to the pit of his stomach. That was the moment in which he took an enemy’s life for the first time.

He did not shout out that he had done it, and it was only within his own heart that Percy yelled for joy. 

''I won’t slip up when I’m grasping a spear. I can do it. I’m strong. I can slaughter my enemies. I can survive.''

Camus and Kuon’s warrior-like appearance were vividly in his mind. He felt that he hadn’t lost to them.

There was no leeway afterwards to think of anything. There was nothing but blindly jabbing at the enemy and desperately parrying the swords or spears with which the enemy lunged at him. Time and again, he felt the enemy’s breath on his face. He saw endless scenes of steel striking down heads or limbs. Amidst it all, he repeatedly heard something that sounded like gunshots ringing in the distance.

''Allies, probably. They can shoot at fleeing enemies, but they’re holding back from firing into those fighting because of the confusion'', he though in the one small corner of his brain that was still capable of rational thinking.  

“Retreat, retreat!”

He heard from afar a voice that seemed to belong to an Allian soldier, and the rough fight came to an end.

The result of it was that Percy had killed two enemies. The first was the mounted soldier from right at the start, and the other had been a foot soldier wielding a halberd. Apart from that, he had also wounded several, but not fatally.

“You fight well.” 

He suddenly realised that Camus was standing by his horse, which was snorting roughly, and stroking its neck. His clerical garb and the chainmail he wore beneath it were stained red. That of victims, no doubt; the person himself was smiling and seemed entirely healthy.

“Despite how you look, your way of fighting is impressive. Your way of handling your spear and horse is still a bit rough, but with some more experience, you’ll be taking plenty of enemy heads.”

He spoke just like a general. His expression was filled with even more energy and self-confidence than usual, which was proof that he too had brought down several enemies. It really was a shame that he was a monk. And then there was –

''What about Kuon?'' He wondered about the boy who hid a wild pride within his heart. Turning his head this way and that from horseback, he could not catch sight of him. He was sure that Kuon must have been among the first to come rushing as soon as he heard that there were enemies.

''He can’t possibly…'' just as he was looking towards the figures that had fallen to the ground, Camus exclaimed, “over there!” and started to run.

It was the same direction as the one the enemy had fled in. Urging his horse forward, Percy overtook him and caught up with Kuon, who was running at terrifying speed. Sure enough, his sword was drenched in blood.

“Chasing too far is forbidden, Kuon. The enemy might have set up camp.”

With Percy blocking him from horseback and Camus also having caught up and restraining him, Kuon reluctantly came to a halt. His breathing was uneven, but he did not seem particularly worn out.

“How many did you kill?”

“Three or four. And I injured a guy who looked like a commander. If I’d caught with him, I could’ve finished him off,” Kuon looked thoroughly annoyed as he spoke. His fighting spirit was practically pouring out of his pair of shinning eyes. 

“There’s no point if you end up having the tables turned on you. Are you injured?” 

At Percy’s questions, Kuon looked over his own arms and legs. His nose wrinkled up as though in dislike from the smell of blood, but his answer was a simple “no”. Percy smiled, thinking that this guy was really just adorable.

“If you want to rake up achievements, why don’t you fight with my unit from now on? It would be more efficient than fighting at random by yourself,” he invited him.

After pondering for a moment, Kuon replied, “I’m fine wherever. As long as you don’t go on about too much annoying stuff.”

“It’s a deal, then. Camus, how about you? I’m still new at this, so would you help me to accumulate experience?”

“It is the duty of the faithful to guide young people down the right path,” Camus spoke with solemn reverence, although he was, in fact, a year younger than Percy.

That day, in the temple that was drunk on victory, Percy announced that he had incorporated Kuon and Camus into his unit. The temple was unused to organising military formations, which also meant that it was not very strict about it. In that sense, it was very flexible.

Although Nauma Laumarl had not taken part in the fighting, he was absolutely delighted that his ‘subordinate’ had accomplished such a feat. 

“At my command, they…” he commented at length to the bishops about the battlefield that he had not personally witnessed.

Of course, while it was a victory, they had done no more than repel a single enemy reconnaissance unit. Since this proved that Allion had started to take military action, the mountain, separate from its ecstatic atmosphere, was also increasingly starting to fill with nervous tension. Percy Leegan had prepared himself in body and mind for the attack that was sure to come in the near future. 

And yet –

While everyone expected Allion to advance in force, from the next day onward, they chose a completely different course of action. One after another, they pillaged the villages that were dotted around the base of Mount Conscon.

From out of nowhere, armed groups suddenly appeared, laying waste to the fields and stealing the harvest and the livestock. The men who tried to oppose them were run through with spears thrust from horseback, or were pierced with arrows through the chest. When they ran out, the defenceless wives and daughters of the farmers were also snatched away.

The villagers speculated that it was the work of bandits, or perhaps of marauding soldiers. 

Although these ‘marauders’ were sometimes also soldiers employed by the local domain lords, their salaries were low compared to those stationed at the castles. In compensation for that, in the border areas where it was difficult to extend any country’s authority, they were allowed to demand a toll from merchants and wayfarers, in the name of “providing a secure escort during your travels”. The rulers tacitly consented to this. In practice, the merchants could indeed travel safely under their escort. Moreover, the marauders occasionally proceeded to neighbouring countries and attacked the villages there. They pillaged, set fire, murdered and kidnapped. They hid where they came from, pretending to be outlaws or armed fishermen. These raids that earned them both profit and combat training could be carried out on the orders of their ruler. The military aim behind them included such things as attacking a foreign power, provoking them or providing a distraction.

In Atall, the local domain lords frequently hired marauders to ravage other territories within their same country. Among them was a man whose infamy struck fear even in the House of the sovereign-prince, but those details can be left for later.

In this current case, there was no doubt that these were Allion’s forces. Either it was their troops disguising themselves as bandits, or they were employing local marauders. Since the villages around the temple did not belong to any country, once they were attacked, the only place the villagers could escape to in search of protection was the temple. The provisions which were sent from the villages to the mountain’s markets were cut off, and on top of that, the temple had to care for a great deal more people.

“Stamp out the thieves,” Bishop Rogress ordered.

By then, as was to be expected, the arrangement of units had been set. Every one of them were sent out to intercept them.

Most of the marauders fled immediately when the encountered the temple’s soldiers. The speed of their movements proved that they had good leadership. That made things difficult when the situation turned into a battle. While the warrior monks would protect the temple at all cost, the mish-mash groups of ruffians would, on the other hand, be the ones to first to flee if the opponents showed any resistance. And those opponents did not miss those signs of weakness.
 
“Now, give chase. Pursue, pursue!” They tore through those weak links and, as a result, instead of protecting the villages, the temple suffered a number of defeats.

Percy’s platoon was frequently sent out to clean up after these fights. Perhaps Nauma Laumarl found it the perfect way to get satisfaction since he touted him as ‘a reliable commander’, and sent him off into successive battles. Although unhappy about it, Percy could not go against orders. It was also a fact that nobody obtained better results than they did.

Day and night Percy was pressed into service and made to ride out. As soon as the marauders decided that this was a strong opponent, they would flee. They seemed to scatter in every direction, yet next time they appeared, their movements once again displayed that they had leadership. Thinking they were about to press forward, the temple’s side prepared to fight back, only to have them pull back again. It was a constant repetition of wasted effort.

“Damn them,” Camus ground his teeth in frustration. “They act like cowards. It should be more dignified.”

''What should?'' Percy wondered silently. War was not only about powerful forces mutually colliding. There were plenty of cases that started and ended with nothing but diversions. This too was war. Yet at the same time, he could not help thinking that Allion’s troops were behaving strangely.

''Perhaps they don’t have the manpower to encircle the area around Mount Conscon. Or else, maybe their supply train doesn’t have much leeway? Both are possible'', he considered. 

He remembered what Bishop Rogress had once said: that Allion was not necessarily eager to suppress the temple. Perhaps only one portion within the country was fervently in favour of doing so. In which case, they would certainly not have any large amount of troops. It was doubtful that they even amounted to a thousand.

Still, the temple was undeniably being made to endure hardship. 

''If we stay on the defensive like this, the temple will continue suffer. Sooner or later, the food will run out and the mercenaries will be quick to turn traitor.''

On Bishop Rogress’ orders, troops were to be stationed immediately within the villages. Again at Nauma’s command, Percy’s unit was to be among them. It was the same harsh workload as ever, but, for now, Percy had no objections. It wasn’t just about preventing further damage to the villages: if the villagers grew weary of the fighting and surrendered to Allion, the foot of the mountain would instantly turn into an advance base from which to capture the temple. Going directly to the villages to offer the inhabitants peace of mind was part of the soldiers’ duties.

The village was surrounded by forest and numbered a few hundred households.

Percy had a watchtower built, and sent scouts out to survey the area with greater secrecy than before. Before his departure for the front, the Leegan House had provided him with war funds which he now made free use of, buying a number of horses as well as various other things he wanted, which brought profit to the village blacksmiths and harness makers.

Occasionally, he allowed the soldiers to go to the village’s only tavern. Since they were forbidden from brawling with the villagers, a few people always had to remain sober. Camus was one of those who took on that responsibility. He had never had any great affinity for liquor. If some of the soldiers got too drunk and seemed about to cause trouble, his stout arms would remove them to the outside one after another.

Then there was his other boon companion, Kuon, who even when he didn’t have any ale in him was always at the centre of every fight.

It was great that he had joined the unit but, at first, whenever Kuon caused a ruckus, Percy had to come rushing. The reasons for the fights were trivial. Things like: he had gotten laughed at for his name or for his accent, he had been cheated when gambling at dice, or, conversely, it could be because his careless manner of speaking earned him the antipathy of some of the younger soldiers.

“Nobody is particularly making fun of you,” Camus lectured him every time, “it’s just that you’re unusual for them. If you leave it be, they’ll soon get used to you. Unless you get upset at every little thing and swing your fists.”
Kuon, flushed red from belligerence, stayed silent.

“Kuon, a man of ambition doesn’t care who laughs at him. You left your home with sword in hand, so there must be something that your heart is set on. If you keep getting yourself involved in trifling quarrels, you won’t accomplish anything.”

“Ambition or not accomplishing anything has sod all to do with me,” when Kuon occasionally opened his mouth, it was only to let it pour out abuse. “If I can get something good to eat today, then it’s all good. That’s it. What’s wrong about that?”

“If you’re driven out from where you’ve finally found work, then they’ll be no question of getting something good to eat,” Percy felt a bit like laughing at himself for using that kind of persuasion. 

Looking at Kuon was exactly like looking at his own past self. Without even understanding his own worth, he hated above all else to have other people look down on him. Everyone around him was laughing at the man who had not been able to do anything during his first campaign, and who practiced with the spear while boasting that he would one day achieve great things – that was how he had felt.

Looking at the boy who was so exactly like him, he felt that he had been given the role of an old man, and felt like laughing again.

Anyway, this was how, at the start, Kuon had Percy running all over the place. However, when he stood on the battlefield, Kuon changed entirely. Since the boy was usually a hothead, Percy worried about whether he would actually move according to orders, but during actual combat, he was unexpectedly obedient and went about his work quickly and efficiently.

After being on the battlefield with him, the way his surroundings looked at him started to change.

“That guy’s still only small, but his way with the sword is terrifying.”

“He’s got nerve. He runs straight towards the enemy without any fear.”

As the attitude of those around him transformed, Kuon also change somewhat.

Perhaps because he had grown up in the mountains, he had sharp night-vision, so he often volunteered for night watch duty. Also, occasionally, he would seem to go wandering off alone all day in the mountains, but when he came back, he would be carrying huge quantities of herbs in both hands. He would then line them up on the ground and divide them up into those that could be eaten, and those that could be used as medicine. He personally mashed those latter ones and handed the medicine to the wounded soldiers.

“Oh, the boy’s changed, hasn’t he?”

The soldiers, who had long served the Leegan House, were impressed. Nowadays, they would chase away the village children who gathered around the watchtower, telling them “Kuon’s dangerous.” The children thought both his accent and his name, which sounded like a dog’s bark, were funny, so they took every chance they got to incessantly call out “Kuonkuon, Kuonkuon” to him.

“I wonder… Rather than saying he’s changed,” Percy tilted his head, “Given that he’s now on the stage of battle, there’s no need for him to go looking for fights.”

Originally, Kuon had spent each day fighting against invaders alongside his companions in the land of his birth. It was obvious that they didn’t each fight individually against the advancing enemy but that they had their own tactics and traps, and Kuon must have learned from birth about the strict rules of fighting as part of a group. Do not leave your post whatever what happens; do not so much as take a single useless breath; once the order has been given, charge at the enemy troops without hesitation…

Thinking about it, it was only natural that Kuon should prove himself to be a capable soldier. He was probably bewildered because of being in an unfamiliar culture, yet right now it wasn’t that he had “changed” but that this was how he had always been. 

One evening, Percy spotted him among his men, who were in a cheerful ring around the fire. One of them, who was good at telling jokes, was telling stories about his past woes with women while everyone else roared with laughter. Kuon was also holding his sides with mirth. Percy was relieved to see his boyish side but, the next day, Kuon was polishing a sword some distance away from everyone else, his expression sullen.

He was a difficult man to please. Or perhaps it was better to say that he was at a difficult age? 

Percy felt that he would like to hear from Kuon about his time in the mountains and about his experiences when he left them. In other words, he was starting to harbour the hope that – ''if he survives, maybe we could become lifelong friends''. 



After taking up his station, Percy Leegan was not simply waiting for the enemy to strike. 

He asked people from the village to get him maps of the surroundings. Since these, however, were made for those from the area, Percy and his men, who were strangers there, found them hard to read. Accordingly, he sent out several of his subordinates on horseback to investigate the terrain. More and more lines were added to the maps and once the features of the landscape were revealed, Percy marked with a cross the places where the marauders frequently appeared.

The enemy seemed to be appearing at random and scattering haphazardly when they fled, but in fact, their actions were orderly. Which meant that they must have built bases around the mountain where they could keep their horses, even though those bases wouldn't be anything as big as fortresses or castles. And judging by how frequently this village was being attacked, there were definitely one or two nearby.

Percy asked Camus to go around the neighbouring villages. As a monk from the temple, Camus’s presence was helpful for gaining the villagers’ trust and, when he made the appeal, people from all over gathered to help. Percy had them cut down trees from the nearby forest. 

With the lumber, he had them build a simple watchtower in each village, as well as fences. Referencing a book he had once read, Percy drove the sharpened tips of the stakes into the ground, and fastened several of these together with ropes. He had them set up at various points to create what was essentially a horse-repelling barrier. It didn’t need to be particularly high, since, by nature, the horses would not want to cross the low fence.

Moreover, Percy had pits dug in the surroundings and had them covered with straw. He also used the soil that had been dug up to plug the gaps in the anti-horse palisades, creating a defensive wall in wattle-and-daube.

Since most of the enemy’s raids occurred at night, the fences, the improvised walls and the traps should prove quite effective.

Percy naturally also mobilised his own soldiers for cutting down the trees, building the fences and walls, and digging the pits. All of them worked all day long, covered in dirt and drenched in sweat. This too was only second-hand knowledge from books, but Percy understood that in war, the great majority of time was spent in engineering works.

He had arrows made from the wood left over from constructing the fences. Women also helped out with that work, and Percy was surprised to see Sarah joining in, as bold as could be. She had been released and some point and, upon learning of her brother’s whereabouts, she had gone down the mountain to them.

Predictably, she and Camus quarrelled over trifling things and – equally predictably – Sarah came out the winner. Besides that, she was a sociable creature and very soon gained the villagers’ affection. For the children especially, she became a favourite playmate.

“Let’s all train together so that we’re ready for when the time comes!” she said, then gathered up the youngest villagers and went galloping off – and even the naughtiest children, who usually gave their parents a hard time, would join in. Sarah also took part, and the girl who ran about with her breath uneven and the hem of her clerical robes fluttering was watched by all of the villagers.

“I’m first!” she panted, as she reached the goal that she herself had decided on.

Her eyes suddenly met Kuon’s, who was polishing his sword under the eaves of a house. For a moment, they were enveloped in a strange mood.

Kuon was the first to look away. “You run just like a man,” his tone held neither criticism nor praise.

Facing him, Sarah looked as though she wasn’t sure what to say.

“Won’t you come and run too? Since you’re from the mountains, you should have good legs, right? In that case, why don’t we compete against each other and bet tonight’s dinner?” she suggested, provokingly.

The edge of Kuon’s lips curled and he stood up.  His face was reflected in the surface of the sword he had just polished as he started to leave.

“What, are you running away?”

“I don’t compete against women,” said Kuon, and Sarah’s cheeks puffed into a pout. The next moment, it turned into a smile.

“You’re scared of losing. Listen up, everyone, Kuonkuon’s a coward!” Sarah incited the children to make fun of him.

Kuon aspired to be a ‘man’, but he wasn’t able to keep up the right attitude for long. A few seconds later, he was standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Sarah and, once the command was given, they both started to run.

The result went without saying.

“I ran just before,” Sarah scowled at Kuon, her shoulders heaving. “One more time… No, since it’d just be the same, after a break.”

“You’re so annoying!”

Percy pretended not to understand the plea for help that Kuon’s gaze was sending his way. Just then, Sarah noticed his presence and her expression, seen from over Kuon’s shoulder, changed. The childish impression vanished, and she became entirely ladylike. She was a girl whose expression was constantly changing.

A few days later, Kuon spotted enemies at around about the time when the sun was setting. Normally, he would have called out loud to alert everyone, but this time, he quickly climbed down the watchtower and went to inform Percy, just as he had been ordered to do.

Percy nodded. He had been thinking that ''it will soon be time''. 

Erecting a fence and digging traps had of course been done to strengthen the village’s defences, but it had also been so that they could cope with an attack with fewer soldiers than before. And as for what they would be doing with the soldiers than had been subtracted from the usual number –

“We’ll launch ourselves out from here.”

– Right, they would be used to attack. 

Percy issued his commands, thirty riders following behind him. Kuon was among them; he was well used to horses. Camus and Sarah, meanwhile, were helping defend the village.

Percy and the others departed in the direction opposite from where the enemy was expected to attack, and rode out into the dusk. To assail the enemy from behind… was not the plan. 

The noise from the village faded. Percy’s aim was to go closer to the root and to strike one of the enemy bases. He had surmised its location from the places and times that the enemy had appeared at up until then.

As expected, the base was on the other side of a narrow stream, hidden amongst densely-growing trees. With the mounted soldiers having gone out to attack, there were not many people there. 

Percy’s heart pounded with excitement. During those seven years in Atall’s capital, there had not been a single night when he had not hoped against hope to shine on the battlefield. And the scenes he had pictured inside his head on every one of those nightmarish nights when his blood had been burning, was exactly the one that was now unfolding before his eyes.

“Now!” Percy bellowed and had the men stoke huge fires.

When the soldiers at the base noticed those flames, the first to come out to see what was happening were mowed down by twenty riders, led by Percy.

“Enemy attack, enemy attack!”

As the foot soldiers came crawling out, Percy and the others took up position to intercept them. At the same time, ten hand-picked and especially skilled men, Kuon among them, raided the simple, log-built building from the side. They took control of the base, which was now even shorter on hands than it had been earlier since the soldiers were all out. 

Chasing away the soldiers, they set themselves up within the base. They waited for the unit that had gone to raid the village to return, then attacked it ferociously.

It was a one-sided slaughter.

The outcome of the battle was that Percy Leegan obtained large amounts of food, weapons – including guns – and seven prisoners of war, all without loosing a single allied soldier.