Editing Tales of Leo Attiel:Volume3 Chapter5 (section)

===Part 1===


When staying in Guinbar, Kuon had a room in the barracks which had been built for the Personal Guards.

After parting with Sarah, Kuon had gone to his room. Usually, the soldiers shared a room between five or six, or even – in some extreme cases – ten, but Kuon had received a private one. It was often left empty since he was constantly coming and going between the temple and Tiwana, but then, it wasn't as though it contained anything but the basic necessities. True, there was the Cross Faith's sacred book, which Camus had forced him to take, but even that had just been left tossed in a corner.

It was already night-time.

Even though he hadn't done any training today, for some reason, he was exhausted down to the marrow of his bones. He immediately put himself to bed.

But he couldn't sleep.

That was rare for Kuon. The boy who could sleep anywhere, be it in the middle of the mountains or on a battlefield, with a tree root or the sheath of his sword for a pillow, could not sleep even though he was aware of being exhausted. Getting irritated, he let out a growl of annoyance.

He knew what the reason  for it was.

''This is the prince's fault.''

He was taciturn by nature, so it felt like he had used up his lifetime's worth of words during the nearly two hours of talking that he had done earlier. And he hadn't been talking about another person, it was his own past, which he prevented himself from remembering too much about, that the prince had coaxed out of him and had him talk about at length.

When he thought of how he had been earlier, he could almost feel himself blush from embarrassment.

At the same time, he could not stem the flow of his memories. Up until now, those memories were supposed to have been locked away beyond his reach, but because he had spent so long reminiscing, the seal had fallen off entirely, and he could no longer prevent them from surging out.

He tossed and turned again and again, and kept telling himself that he wouldn't think about them, but his memories still would not allow him to escape into sleep. Even when he closed his eyes, the images rose clearly before him. Or else it was a voice which was vividly resurrected.

“You did it! Father was always reprimanding you and hitting you, so you resented him. That's why you caught him in a trap and dragged him to his death!” Diu had screamed at him in tears.

And the tribesmen had believed those words. No matter how much they might recognise his strength, at the end of the day, Kuon was not a pureblood, and that single fact decided the matter for them, and meant that they did not believe one word of his attempted explanations.

When explaining to the prince how he had arrived at Conscon, he had simply said that he had “come down from the mountains,” but the truth was that he had consciously obfuscated the details. It was impossible that he could have left so easily, after all.

Immediately after Datta's death, Kuon had been hauled away by muscular soldiers, and had been locked up in a prison within a cliff that was used for the tribe's criminals. While he was shut away, the priestesses would hold a ceremony to ascertain his guilt.

In the same way as divination was performed at the coming-of-age ceremony, they would burn an object related to the event – the armour that Datta had worn, or a piece of one of his bones – and then, depending on things like the condition of the fire and the cracks that the heat caused in the object, the priestesses would divine Tei Tahra's will. Based on that, they would determine Kuon's guilt or innocence, and, if he was guilty, they would also determine what punishment to hand out to him.

Kuon, of course, knew that he was blameless. As long as Tei Tahra righteously guided the priestesses, his innocence should become clear at once. Yet swirling black doubts and misgivings easily enveloped that hope. And the reason for that was, again, that – ''I'm not a pureblood.''

From the time he was born, he had never once been accepted by the mountain, so how could he overturn Diu's words? Even the priestesses might falsify their divination, while everyone gloated about how they could finally get rid of Kuon, the eyesore, and so wouldn't he end up burned at the stake?

That thought obsessed him as he lay on the damp stone floor. The ceiling was too low for him to be able to stand. Kuon was now lying down in his lodgings in Guinbar, and back then as well, he had been unable to sleep. In his mind floated the image of Gosro, his eyes open so wide that the eyeballs seemed about to fall out, and drool spilling from his mouth. His screeching laughter. His body engulfed in the flames...

“You're wrong, it wasn't me,” Kuon cried over and over.

He shouted until his throat was so raw he could no longer speak. His tears never stopped flowing either. In the end, he even felt like calling for his mother, who was long dead.

Then, when the night was at its deepest, he heard a voice outside. He wondered whether the executioner had finally come for him, and pressed his body close against the prison's stone wall, when an arm stretched out towards his shivering form.

He was dragged towards the open door. A man stood there. No, actually, it was impossible to tell if it was a man or a woman since they were wearing a mask similar to Warrior Raga.

That person cut the ropes that were binding Kuon's hand and feet, and clapped him on the back.

“Run away,” they whispered.

Kuon didn't need to be told twice. He even considered that this person might be pretending to help him, only to then jab a blade in his back. Convinced that the entire mountain was already out to kill him, Kuon recklessly galloped down the dark mountain paths.

The only thing he could rely on was the light from the stars. Again and again, he slipped and tumbled against the rocks. He suffered more wounds than he could count, but thinking about it now, it was lucky that none of those had been fatal injuries. There were watchtowers built all along the mountain pass; Kuon avoided the light from their fires which illuminated the darkness, and carried on with as much force as though someone was pushing him from behind. In the end, a day later, he had crossed to the south of the Fangs.

He remembered how he had stared in almost blank amazement at the Kesmai Plains, which unfolded out before him. But even that only lasted an instant. He was worried that the figures of pursuers might emerge from behind him at any moment, so he pushed himself forward, despite his wounds and his exhaustion, and ran towards the north. Of course, he had no clear destination in mind, it was simply that it was the direction away from the mountains.

“Huh,” the gloomy sound he made was meant to chase away those scenes from his past which had come spinning back to him one after another.

In the end, he gave up on trying to force himself to sleep, and glared at the ceiling, both eyes open wide.

He could hear the sound of his heartbeat.

He stayed like that for a long time.



It was not yet dawn when Kuon headed towards the barracks' stables. He saddled a horse and jumped on its back; since the animal was familiar with him, it didn't make a sound. With his bag behind him, Kuon rode the horse down the quiet streets, but then soon brought it to a halt.

There, in the semi-darkness, was the figure of a nun of the Cross Faith.

Sarah.

She was leading a horse and, before Kuon had the time to say anything –

“I thought as much,” Sarah looked up at Kuon with eyes like a kitten's. “Are you intending on returning to your home mountains, and asking them for help?”

“...”

“Give it up. Kuon, aren't you a 'betrayer' to the mountain? You'll only be captured and burned at the stake.”

“Don't decide that for yourself.”

Did Kuon's bitter answer come in reply to 'return to the mountains', or was it because of the words 'burned at the stake'? Either way, something had hit the mark.

“Did I go too far? Still, it's a bit unexpected, you know?”

“What is?”

“The fact that you're even willing to run the risk of being burned to death. Percy and my brother seem to be placing their hopes on His Highness Leo, but what in the world is in it for you?”

“I just want to win the war.”

“Which is why I'm asking why. There are wars everywhere. There are places where you have a far better chance of winning compared to here, and places where you can make far more money.”

Sarah piled up questions as though to test him, until opposite her, Kuon growled in annoyance.

“I decide where I fight. It's got nothing to do with you. So leave me alone.”

“I can't do that. The prince said it too, right? You're his bodyguard. You're no longer a drifting mercenary: your position comes with responsibilities.”

“And who are you to say that? Are you in a position to give me orders?”

“I...” Sarah faltered for a second, then proudly puffed out her chest. “I am the beauty in heroic tales who guides the hand of destiny.”

“Whatever.”

Kuon had his horse start walking again. Sarah levered herself by putting her foot against the stable's gate and swung herself into her own saddle. Her movements were supple and nimble.

Kuon passed under Guinbar's main eastern gate, and started along the road heading south.

“Did you bring travelling expenses?” Sarah asked from behind him.

He ignored her at first, but eventually held up the bag that was at waist because of how persistent she was being.

“Right, I see. So, we should get what we need from one of the villages ahead. This isn't going to be a five or six day trip, is it?”

''Weren't you planning on stopping me?'' Was written all over Kuon's face, but he didn't say it out loud. If he started talking, he would just get caught up in Sarah's pace. Determined to get away from her at some point, he urged his horse forward.

Half a day after leaving Guinbar, they arrived in a village where they bought provisions and sleeping bags. Sarah had something to say about every item of shopping. “It's best to visit another shop before making a decision,” she said, or, “Please be more careful about what you choose. Your life depends on the equipment you select for travelling.” She just wouldn't shut up. Kuon wasn't able to stay silent either.

“What are you, a meddling old granny? And how long are you planning on sticking around for?”

“I decide where I go. So leave me alone.”

After riding their horses further, they stayed overnight in a different village.

Kuon had intended to stay at an inn, but Sarah objected. Savan Roux had built centres for the Cross Faith throughout his territory, and in this village as well, a storehouse which had originally been under the joint management of merchants was in the middle of being remodelled into a monastery. There were still only very few monks living and studying there, but Sarah was able to request that the two of them be put up for the night in the name of solidarity between members of the Cross Faith.

“Every little bit of money is worth saving.”

Kuon went along with it for the time being. Although there was still money to spare, it wasn’t as though it were plentiful.

The two of them continued to ride forward for several more days. Sometimes Kuon had his horse speed up, or left a village after making sure that Sarah was fast asleep, but each time, Sarah would inevitably catch up with him. Once, they fell in with a merchant caravan – in effect, a group of peddlers – of several dozen people, and a spent a night in their company in a forest. However, when Kuon stealthily got up in the middle of the night and seemed about to gallop away on horseback, young merchants who were standing guard came chasing after him, also on horses and with ugly expressions.

Thinking that something might have happened, Kuon brought his mount to a halt.

“Chase after him at once if that guy looks like he’s going to sneak away without permission,” Sarah had apparently told them. “He took my chastity and we're fleeing from the pursuers sent by my parents. But now, it looks like he's trying to run away from me. Even though he's promised that we would go where we could be happy together.”

Because of that tearful explanation, the men were all on Sarah's side, and had kept watch on Kuon with glowering eyes.

“You shameless piece of shit, taking advantage of such a beautiful young lady then trying to run away!”

“I'd rather tie you to that tree over there and let the wolves eat you, but then the young lady would be sad. Right, come on – you're going back!”

Kuon was completely baffled to find himself surrounded and threatened like that. He gave up for a while on trying to shake Sarah off.

As the road grew more rugged, signs of human life gradually became scarcer. There were no more travellers and merchants to be seen, and hardly any houses. Normally, upon leaving the centre of Atall and approaching the border areas, there would be marauders roaming, who would forcibly announce that they would “protect” wayfarers to extort money out of them, yet even those bandits were nowhere in sight here.

They arrived near the road through the mountain pass. Wedged between the highlands and the rocky mountains to its east and west, this path  separated Atall from the lands that lay further south. Although the place was virtually deserted, the road appeared to be relatively well-maintained, which stemmed from the fact that before the southwestern country of Garanshar had been absorbed into Allion's domains, this route was frequently used by merchants from Atall and the surrounding countries when they went on business to Garanshar and did not want to cross Allion's border.

Because of the cliffs towering on either side of it, strong winds blew through this valley path, and because they sometimes sounded like a woman's weeping, it was called 'Pass of the Wailing Tresses'.

At times galloping fast, at others, leading their horses, Kuon and Sarah crossed the steep ridge. As the cliffs fell away behind them, there was suddenly nothing to obstruct their view and, instead, desolate fields opened before them.

The Kesmai Plains.

The gently rolling ground seemed to carry on forever. Diagonally west of the plains, the domains that had once been Garasharn continued until they adjoined the inland sea, which had now become Allion's border.

The temperature seemed impossibly high compared to the mountain pass, and Sarah's hair fluttered in the dry wind. Moisture was scarce, and there so were so few trees growing that they could easily be counted, which made this land look it was rejecting life.

“How did you cross these plains?” Sarah asked.

She stroked her horse's neck as though to soothe it, but in doing so, she was probably trying to hide her own unease.

“Nomads wander all over the plains. I followed them.”

“You sure are good at being reckless,” Sarah crossed herself with an astounded expression. “Simply being able to find them was already a desperate gamble, and then, there are plenty differences between nomads. There are even some who attack caravans and towns, you know. You should give thanks for still being alive. Be sure to offer prayers to God.”

“Sure, humans are dangerous too, but from here on, they'll be more wolves than humans. Also, watch out; there are loads of valleys that look like the mountains have collapsed inwards. In places like that, there are plenty of holes where ashinaga have their nests.”

“Ashinaga?”

“That's how we call them. But in Atall and among the nomads, I've heard they're called 'armoured spiders'. They're giant, man-eating spiders.”

“Eh...”

Her tone was curt, but Sarah's answer seemed strangely heavy at the same time. His interest piqued, Kuon continued his explanation.

“In the tribe, there were men who hunted ashinaga at the foot of the mountain on the far side from the village. Because they only appeared a few times a year, on the morning after strong winds had been blowing, only the exceptionally skilled hunters were chosen. It's an honour to hunt ashinaga.”

“Why would you even be hunting them? To eat?”

“Of course not. The priests wanted the ashinaga's poison, the hunters used the hair from their legs as arrowheads, and the warriors took their hard shells as shields. I've never seen a living one though. ─ You scared? They say that if you take ashinaga poison, you'll die in agony.”

The implicit advice was that now was the time to turn back.

“Really? That sounds exciting. This means that from here on is where a great adventure begins, right? This could the tale of how the brave and beautiful Sister Sarah, accompanied by a puppy-like attendant, found treasures and ruins hidden since long ago in this barren wasteland.”

Sarah straightened her back and urged her horse on before Kuon could do the same, leaving him to follow hurriedly after.

Travelling south across the plains, there were what looked like huts made out of solidified mud lining a narrow river. They looked like they probably formed a village. Back when merchants had frequently been going to and fro the north and Garanshar, they had probably been bustling with people, but now, there was so little life in the place that even the sun which was shining overhead seemed stagnant.

They therefore decided to stay at an inn. Well, for all that it was called an 'inn', it was more like an ordinary farmhouse. The talkative host threw open rooms in his house for the few travellers and merchants that came by in order to hear stories from the outside world. Yet when that genial old man heard that Kuon and Sarah were travelling even further south, ''They're crazy'' was written all over his face.

“There aren't any proper villages south of here. Even if you're on the run from the north, you'd do better to head west of the northern edge of Kesmai. There you'll find the remains of the highway that Garanshar maintained through the plains, back when the country still existed. It's a little far, but there should be several post-station towns along it.”

When Sarah insisted however that they needed to go south, their host pondered for a while, then told them,

“In this season, the Halia open up their bazaar. It's at the 'Moon Ring Stones'. Those guys trade with the towns, so there shouldn't be too much danger. You need to go further southwest along the river.”

The Halia were apparently one group within a clan of nomads, and a bazaar seemed to be a market which the nomadic tribes held at regular intervals.

Their host looked at Sarah, who was dressed in her novice's robes.

“The Halia are good-natured for nomads, but it would still be best if you changed your clothes. The nomadic clans have their own gods. And they're different from city-dwellers: they're mostly not very tolerant of other people's faiths,” he offered another warning.

Sarah might have been expected to resist the idea –

“These clothes have been reduced to tatters from the trip, so that's perfect. Kuon, we still have travel funds, right?” Instead, however, she immediately demanded money.

Kuon pulled a sour face, but by then, he had given up on shaking Sarah off, so it was better to have at least one less source of trouble.

The next day, she visited the various houses in the village, looking to buy cheap clothes from the daughters of farmers or shopkeepers. By the end, she was wearing second-hand linen clothes that seemed to have belonged to a farm girl, and a traveller's cloak. When he first saw her looking like that, Kuon's eyes went wide for a second, but when he noticed Sarah's knowing smile, he immediately turned his gaze away.