Editing Tales of Leo Attiel:Volume3 Chapter5 (section)

===Part 2===


It was still early in the morning when they left the village and headed south.

The strong sunlight was beating down, and neither Kuon nor Sarah felt like idle chatter. Pouring with sweat and keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings, they silently urged their horses forward. Luckily, from morning until the sun's light faded into dusk, they met neither beasts nor bandits.

They came across a deep valley at the bottom of a gentle slope in which a large crowd of people had gathered. Tents with tapered points were packed close together, filling the valley. As they got closer, the sight of the nomads in their long robes of different colours and designs, the sound of the vendors' high-pitched voices, and the smell of spices and herbs all mixed together to create a jumbled atmosphere that assaulted Kuon and Sarah's five senses.

This was surely the Halil's bazaar. The 'Moon Ring Stones' seemed to refer to a series of low-lying boulders on the east side of the valley. At certain times of the day, the shadow that the boulders cast into the valley resembled the shape of the moon, hence the name.

These nomads were generally on the small side, with dark black hair and narrow eyes. They were split up into numerous clans, and never settled long in one place: as soon as they had built a base in one part of the wilderness, they would move to another destination. Occasionally, they would hold a market, to which other clans also came. Since the market was usually held in the name of the leader of the host clan, he was responsible for guaranteeing its peace. If clans were in the middle of a feud, bringing that quarrel to the market was strictly forbidden. Men dressed in long white robes, and armed with guns and swords that curved even more than the half-moon swords often used in Atall, were patrolling the valley and its surroundings. They appeared to be in charge of maintaining security, which meant that they were part of the Halil clan, which was sponsoring this bazaar. One of them had rushed immediately to where a buyer and vendor had started yelling loudly at one another.

─ This is a digression, but one theory holds that, several hundred years ago, a group of these nomads travelled north, then went separate ways to the east and west. The group which went east found a new base of operation to the north of what is currently the Grand Duchy of Ende, and it continues to this day to threaten Ende's northern borders. The group that headed west eventually reached the lands of Tauran, and it is said that after repeatedly interbreeding with the indigenous Zerdians, they became known as the Pinepey Tribe, which is famed for its skill in shooting from horseback.

Whatever the land in which they arrived, they chose the same way of life, faithful to their love for freedom and the wind, and to their traditions of violence and bloodshed.

“It's really crowded!” Sarah exclaimed in a somewhat excited voice. Apparently, she was fond of that kind of mixed and diverse atmosphere.

Kuon patted the bag at his waist to check what remained of their travel funds. They needed to resupply in provisions and water. Their host had mentioned that from here on, the sun's rays would be merciless, so new cloaks were another necessity.

''Outsiders have come'' – it was clear that the Halia guards were keeping a watchful eye on them. Wanting to stand out as little as possible, Kuon was going to pay whatever price the vendors asked for, but Sarah interfered each time.

Which got them dragged into a strange situation.

Just as Sarah was complaining about the price of a bag of dried fruit, a hand swept the bag away from the side. It belonged to a man dressed in long black robes. There was a noticeable scar on his forehead, and he might have been in his mid forties.

“Now look here...” Sarah was about to protest that they were still in the middle of bargaining, but the man paid the asking price for the fruit, then held the bag out to Sarah.

While Sarah stared blankly back, the man crocked his finger to call over Kuon, who was inspecting curved short swords at another stall. Kuon was offended at the gesture, which was just like that of a master summoning a menial, but what the man said next was a proposal which was so outrageous that it left the boy stunned.

“I want to buy this woman,” the man announced.

He spoke with a heavy accent. It brought back memories of Kuon back when he had first appeared at the temple, but Sarah seemed to have no problem understanding it. Instead of being angry, however, she answered with a sweet smile;

“Unfortunately, I'm not for sale. Although I am curious about what kind of price you might set.”

The man open his mouth wide in a hearty laugh, and named a sum. In that area, it would have been enough to stock up on ten day's worth of luxury provisions.

Kuon had been glaring angrily, but, so as to not stand out, he relaxed his shoulders and deliberately looked towards Sarah in amusement.

“What a strange guy. Do you really want to shorten your lifespan so badly that you're willing to pay for it?”

“Oh my, you've learned how to speak, little kuonkuon puppy.”

Although it could have ended there and have been no more than funny anecdote –

“I can add more,” the man was persistent.

There was an impression of strong will from the mouth buried beneath his black beard, from his narrow, upward slanting eyes, and from his forehead which was like the sheer cliffs in the surrounding area. Although he was slim, his shoulders were broad, and there was a red sash tied firmly around his waist. Kuon's feeling was that he was not simply some lady's man, and neither was he to be underestimated.

“Despite appearances, she's a daughter from a family of pretty good standing. She has a fiancé back home,” he said quickly, and reached out to take Sarah's hand to get her away from the man.

His hand was blocked. When he looked around, he found himself half surrounded by a group of men wearing robes of the same colour. All of them had sheathed swords conspicuously on display.

“Then how about enjoying a little adventure before going back to that Mister Fiancé? I'm telling you, I, Bahāt, know far better how to please a young lady than any of those soft city-dwelling men.”

“Knock it off,” Kuon wanted to deal with this as calmly as possible, but the man called Bahāt wasn't giving up.

Sarah didn't say anything. For some reason, she seemed to be watching happily what Kuon, who was now grasping her hand, intended to do.

“Don't think that outsiders can do things their own way here,” Bahāt's lips twisted into a smile. “If you become too much of a pain, should I feed your flesh to the ravenous wolf god of Kesmai, Roh Gas?”

“What?”

“My advice to you, boy, is to scram and leave the woman before there’s trouble.”

“Bastard,” Kuon started to reach for the sword that hung at his back. Seeing that, Bahat and his men burst out laughing; they didn't think for a second that he was a master swordsman. To them, the two looked like the son and daughter of good families who had come from the city for a small shopping adventure.

Sarah now looked worried. To go back to what was being said earlier, if outsiders wrecked the market place, they would make enemies of everyone there. She was about to say something to stop them, but it was already too late.

At that moment, a different group made up of several riders came rushing up. Just like the guards on duty, these men wore white robes, meaning that they must be from  the Halil. The group of five horsemen advanced in a row, as though to force the cluster of black-robed men to part before their mounts.

“You got here fast,” Bahāt laughed. “This brat is going around trying to make trouble. Won't you take him away for me?”

“What. Bastard, you're the one...” While Kuon was flaring up, the lead rider spoke,

“I did not think that you would do us the honour of coming to our bazaar, Uncle.” Although he was young, his voice carried unusual dignity. Within the group, he was the only one wearing a pointed helmet. “Naturally, as you know, since this bazaar is being held in my name, everyone attending is my guest. Tell me, Uncle, do you have business with my guests?”

“None at all. As a guest, I was simply going to buy something which caught my eye. Exactly what you'd expect at a bazaar.”

“Yet it looked like there was about to be a commotion because you were forcibly trying to buy something which was not for sale.”

“Oh? Are you trying to say that I'm the one who was about to disturb the bazaar? And, in your position, what are you going to do to me? Expel the problem by force? This is great opportunity for you, since you can't seem to stand my company,” as Bahāt spoke, the mood changed.

The group in black put their hands to their waist or to their breast pockets. Seeing which, the party of white-robed riders also put themselves at the ready.

Kuon grimaced: from being at the centre of the disturbance, his position had suddenly changed completely and he was now entirely left out. In short, it looked like there were certain ties and circumstances among the nomads there.

Amid an atmosphere so tense that blood might start flowing at any moment, Bahāt put on a smile, and shrugged his broad shoulders.

“Well, leave it. I'm still in the middle of shopping. It wouldn't be so funny to be turned away now. Let's go enrich your bazaar a little,” saying so, he turned around.

Once he started to walk, the group of black-robed men all immediately did the same. A sand-laden wind started blowing from behind Kuon, and it was exactly as though Bahāt was guiding that wind as he strode away.



Kuon and Sarah were invited to the tent which was closest to the 'Moon Ring Stones'.

The one who had asked them there was the man in a helmet from the Halil clan. “Please allow me to treat you to a cup of tea,” he had said.

Before Kuon had time to refuse, Sarah's eyes had lit up.

“Did you say that this bazaar was being 'held in your name' earlier? Does that mean, sir, that you are the head of this clan?” She asked, her eyes still shining.

''Don't say any more than necessary'', Kuon glared at her, but the young man laughed readily.

“Please know that I am Hāles Halia, O beautiful one.”

While saying that, he showed the two of them into the tent. Hāles was still only about thirty. The image that city-dwellers had of the prairie tribes was that of bloodthirsty savages who attacked travellers every night, but  Hāles had a clear pair of eyes, and when he smiled, there was a sophisticated air to him that was hard to disregard.

An Atallese carpet was spread out inside the tent, with a table and chairs from Allion arranged in proper order.

“None of these were plundered, they were bought at bazaars held by the other clans,” although in spite of  Hāles' explanation, these were almost certainly articles that the clansmen had sold at their markets after pillaging them from the towns...

Hāles served them tea himself. Maybe it was because some unknown animal's milk had been added to it, but Sarah felt something very off about the drink that she was normally used to, and had a hard time preventing it from showing on her face. Kuon, meanwhile, downed his cup in a single gulp. He wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible.

“Thank you for kindly for your hospitality and for the tea,” as ever when speaking with excessive formality, Kuon's voice was too loud. “We have no intention of causing a disturbance at the bazaar. We have already found what we need, so we will be leaving immediately.”

He took Sarah's hand and was about to stand up.

“Please wait,”  Hāles was still half-standing as he stopped Kuon. Young though he was, and just as there had been with Bahāt, there was something in the way he held himself which made it clear that one could not be careless around him.

“We need to hurry to where we're going.”

“It will be sunset. Bahāt will definitely attack you if you leave now. Please at least stay the night and leave when the sun is high in the sky. The bazaar ends tomorrow, so we can provide you with guards.”

“Bahāt was the man who wanted to buy me, right? Lord Hāles, didn't you call him your 'uncle'?” Sarah asked before Kuon had time to say anything.

For a second, Hāles' suntanned face wore an embarrassed expression, but he immediately after started to explain the situation to them.

Bahāt was the younger brother of the previous head of the clan. When the previous clan leader – in other words, Hāles' father – had passed away from illness, the elders had gathered and had designated Hāles as his successor. At the time, however, Bahāt had been taking part in a skirmish caused by other clans – one of the parties had offered him money and horses for his support – and so had not been able to take part in the discussion to choose the successor. He seemed distinctly unhappy about it, and, along with several dozen companions who had fought alonside him, he had distanced himself from the clan, only appearing on occasion to harass those within it.

“Uncle probably came to stir up trouble at the bazaar. He wants to drag my name down. Still, if sheds the blood of a fellow clansmen for no reason, and for all that the plains are said to be unfettered, he'll find that they will suddenly become a very small place. Those who make light of the connection between clansmen who share the same horses and who drank the same milk will unfailingly find that Roh Gas will howl their infamy far and wide, and they will become objects of hatred and scorn even to the other clans.”

“And so when I appeared, it was like a boon from the Heavens for Bahāt,” Sarah nodded.

He was going to target an outsider to start a fight. This wasn't the first, or even the second time that Bahāt had performed this kind of harassment.

The bazaar held at the 'Moon Ring Stones' was so large that even merchants from the lands of the northern civilisation – Atall included – used to form a caravan to come and trade there. Half a year ago, however, Bahāt had attacked them on their return journey. He had stolen their carts and left several dead, so from then onwards, the merchants in that caravan no longer had the slightest inclination to set foot in the Kesmai Plains again. Given what kind of man he was, it was indeed entirely possible that he might swoop down upon Kuon and Sarah as soon as they left the valley.

Hāles seemed both worried by Bahāt's actions, and considerably enraged by them. Realising that, Kuon revised his intention of leaving at once. And with it –

“That man is no longer your uncle,” even Sarah was startled by his words. “He's simply a traitor to the clan – an enemy. You should kill him. Why haven't you done so?”

Hāles glared for a second, then got his emotions under control and showed them a serious expression. He was a man who had become head of his clan at a young age: his hand and feet were no doubt bound by any number of shackles. And besides –

“Uncle is well used to the plains, and usually, we don't even know where he is. And I have to take into account that if we attack him, he might call for help from other clans. I can't decided to start a large-scale conflict simply on my own judgement.”

“You could always find a pretext to lure him out.”

“A sneak attack is out of the question. Instead of my uncle, it's my infamy that Roh Gas would spread across the wide plains,” as Hāles spoke, he once again gave a momentary glimpse of anger.

He would do what he could, but this was not Atall or Allion; the plains had their own way of doing things.

“You shouldn't be the one to do it.” Why was it that, having gotten to this point, Kuon was showing an abnormal amount of enthusiasm? “But how about if an outsider kills him?”



Not long after that, Kuon and Sarah were once more sitting astride their horses as they swiftly left the Moon Ring Stones behind them. Sunset was closing in, and the dark red sky was melting into the plain's vast ground.

In the end, the two travellers had apparently decided to ignore Hāles' advice. And it wasn't even half an hour later that clouds of dust appeared behind them and to their side.

“Ay-ay-ay-ei, ay-ei,” the group of black-robbed nomads bore down on them, raising their rough voices in a way perculiar to them.

There was a dozen or more of the men. All of them wore the cruel, predatory smiles of wolves, and as they rode forward, they had their curved and twisting swords raised high. Horses and men alike all seemed to be feverish at the promise of bloodshed.

If Hāles could have seen them, he would certainly have sighed – ''Didn't I tell you so?''

The assailant galloping in the lead was none other than Bahāt. The gentlemanly manner that he had just barely maintained at the bazaar had been entirely flung aside, and his cruel laughter was echoing loudly.

Kuon and Sarah tried to get their horses to run faster and shake off their pursuers, but the nomads were superior in their handling of horses, and in their knowledge of the terrain. The outsiders barely managed to run away for more than a few minutes before being chased and cornered by a steep cliff.

Several more men joined the group, until there were about twenty of them spread out in a fan shape and  surrounding the two who had been forced to halt their horses. The assailants also slowed their horses' steps.

“You should've listened back then, boy,” positioning himself in front of them, Bahāt was laughing enough to make his black beard quiver. “I'd have let you go if you'd given over the woman. But this isn't the bazaar where your sort can fit in anymore: here, you're in the Kesmai Plains, where wolves, and storms and giant spiders prowl. There aren't any rules or laws here. This is a land where the strong take, and the weak simply get taken from. After having that woman while you watch, I'll slice you to shreds and leave you tied up here. Will you be torn apart by the fangs of wolves while you'll still alive, or will you be pecked to pieces by birds of prey? Or will you be gobbled up by armoured spiders?”

As Bahāt laughed, his eyes almost looked blood red, like those of a man possessed. It was clear that he loved fighting, and that he took pleasure in cornering his prey then taking the time to torment it. There was no doubt from the look in his eyes that when he attacked and captured men from other tribes, merchants, travellers, or anyone else, he was used to torturing them to death like this. As for what happened to those who were left alive, they were sold as slaves to the western countries.

Bahāt's like-minded friends were also laughing as they called out in their coarse voices.

“Choose how you want to die.”

“We could let you have the woman before that. If you can actually get it up while we watch.”

While the men on horseback were all laughing at once, Kuon kicked his horse's flanks and raced it towards an opening in the fan-shaped encirclement.

“You going to just let the woman die, boy?”

The nomadic rider who was positioned at that edge spurred his own horse forward.

“Don't kill him yet.”

“Cut his arm off and knock him off the horse.”

Accompanied by the voices of his companions, the rider swung his greatly curved sword to block Kuon's path. It should have sunk into the boy's shoulder, except that it was instantly parried.

The man on horseback had his posture thrown off. At some point, Kuon had drawn the sword at his back. Or perhaps it was better to say that he had parried the blow with the very action of 'drawing his sword'. While everyone there was still having a hard time believing their eyes, Kuon struck again and slashed his opponent through the throat.

The man fell from his horse in a spray of blood.

A moment passed. Then Bahāt's eyes flew open wide.

“Don't let him get away!” He howled.

The vulgar smirks had completely vanished from the nomads' faces, replaced instead by a terrifying killing intent.

As they circled to draw the net tighter around Kuon, there was also one who moved his horse towards Sarah. Terror must have rooted her to the spot, because she wasn't moving.

“Boy, do you value this woman's head? If you do, then...”

The man had been about to press his sword against Sarah's neck, when he suddenly saw a gun muzzle appear from beneath her cloak. He didn't even have time to blink: his forehead was shot through, and he fell backwards from his horse.

Sarah aimed one after another at the men on one end of the group encircling Kuon, and pulled the trigger. She was unused to shooting from horseback, so she did not hit them, but it caused a shock to run throughout Bahāt's group.

Then another situation arose: multiple arrows were shot from behind Bahāt and his men.

Two arrows struck true, and a man riding next to Bahāt screamed in pain as he fell from his horse.

''What the hell?'' Bahāt could not comprehend what was going on. He had not imagined for a moment that the 'outsiders' might have companions. While he was hesitating about whether or not to turn his horse around, Kuon stole up to him, unnoticed.

Another gunshot rang out.

A man who had drawing up to Kuon from behind toppled over in a spurt of blood.

Sword in hand, Bahāt stopped Kuon's blow just before it landed on his face.

“Boy, you're aiming a weapon at ''me''? Do you know what happens in Kesmai to those who bare their fangs at Bahāt?”

“How would I know,” Kuon answered while avoiding his counterattack. “There aren't any rules or laws here, right? The strong take, and the weak get taken from.”

In spite of how he looked, Kuon's blows were sharp. For a second, then a third time, steel crashed against steel so fast that sparks flew around their faces.
[[Image: Leo_Attiel_Den_v03_271.png|thumb]]
“Bastard...”

Bahāt was superior in terms of raw strength, but there was no time for him to leverage that advantage by swinging his blade wide. Kuon's attacks were incessant, and in a second when Bahāt twisted away to avoid them, it was instead Kuon's sword which drew a wide arc.

“Argh!”

The blade sliced through Bahāt's carotid artery. Blood gushed up and dyed the dry earth red. He still moved jerkily as though to swing his sword, but his sturdy body soon fell at his horse's feet.