Editing Tales of Leo Attiel:Volume1 Chapter2 (section)

===Part 1===


Mount Conscon’s market was bustling with energy and there were throngs of people. The children who were running around at Percy Leegan’s feet had the same innocent expression that was common to children everywhere.

Yet only a small part of the market was officially in use. As evidence of that, there were practically no stalls selling food. According to what he had heard, the temple was now buying up food such as grain, vegetables, fruit and meat in bulk.

As a result, the voices of the hawkers were somewhat subdued. Yet even so, it was crowded with as many people as you would find in any large town, and that was due to the issue surrounding Conscon Temple.

Rows of buildings made of wood or stone encircled the city and, if one’s eyes travelled up them, the edge of the temple came into view. A huge cross towered above the top of a slender spire.

''It’s just like rumours say'', thought Percy.

The mountain was not just a temple where monks practiced ascetics, but formed an actual town. And not just any kind of town: it was a fortified citadel.

Percy included, five hundred soldiers had arrived there late the previous evening. The main temple gate was halfway up the mountain, and it was guarded by warrior monks, all of whom were armed with guns and spears. 

There were also plenty of armed men to be seen in the market where Percy currently was. Setting aside from the groups of warrior monks who wore their white clerical robes above their chainmail, these were predominantly rough-looking men in dishevelled clothing who each carried a sword at their waist. They were mercenaries temporarily hired by the temple. 

Among them, there were devout believers spurred on by righteous indignation, who proclaimed that “We can’t just stand by and let our historic temple be burned to the ground!”, but they probably made up less than ten percent. Most of them were men who were fed up with a life of manual toil and who had come racing from their farming villages, or else they were penniless thieves or mountain bandits. Actually, just since the previous evening, Percy had heard plenty of them bragging about how “I was stealing over at such-and-such”, or “I laid that town to waste”, and other similar violent episodes.

Whatever their origins, it was because of mercenaries arriving in force that Mount Conscon was bustling with more energy than usual. There were people who seemed to have brought their own ale with them and who were drinking it together from early morning onwards; people supplying themselves with weapons and armour from the city blacksmiths; and in alleyways hidden from the temple’s eyes, there were shopkeepers secretly selling eggs and meat, who were busy haggling prices with customers who spoke with thick accents.

The reason the temple was buying food up in bulk was so that it could be rationed out to the mercenaries as well as to the actual inhabitants of the mountain. 

From what he had heard, there were normally less than a thousand people living here. It was now so lively that it was almost impossible to believe than until just a few years ago, the place had essentially been an abandoned ruin. 

Conscon Temple, which took its name from the mountain, had been founded by the religion which had always flourished in the eastern part of the continent. 

The god they believed in was peculiar for not having a name that could distinguish it from other religions.  However, since their temples and other buildings, as well as the clothes that their priests wore, were adorned with may symbols of a cross, their religion was commonly referred to as the “Cross Faith”.

According to what Percy’s tutor had told him when he was a child, their teachings had existed since before the immigrant ship had arrived on this planet. It had taken root in this new land but, with the long passage of years, factions had developed within it. This would not have been a problem if the various faithful had simply cut ties with one another, but they had soon started fighting as each tried to propagate their own dogmas.

There were nevertheless many ascetics monks who were, by nature, uninterested in missionary activities or in world salvation, and who merely sought through prayer to bring their minds and bodies closer to their god. These monks disdained the secular world, and they had been the first to seclude themselves on this mountain.

Some of those who had come to train at Mount Conscon had later become famous throughout the entire continent, but that had already been some five hundred years ago. The number of monks going into seclusion on the mountain gradually diminished, and their stone-built temple, which in those days had been as sturdy as could be, had time and again been captured by the likes of bandits, or of nobles fleeing their country, until it had gradually crumbled away.

The one who had rebuilt it into its current form was Bishop Rogress, who held the highest position of power in Conscon Temple. 

Percy had met him the previous evening. He was a plump man with eyes as vigilant as a fox’s, and his age was somewhere above fifty. His appearance, combined with his uniquely deep voice engendered a calm atmosphere, like that of a weighty boulder. ''Only this dignitary could pick a fight with Allion'' – that was the kind of impression he gave.

The kingdom of Allion and the temple had once shared a good relationship. In fact, it was Allion which had generously provided the money and manpower to rebuild the temple. That had been about seven years ago. In those seven years, the mountain had once again attracted crowds of ascetic monks and had been reenergised. Accommodations were set up for the carpenters and stonemasons hired to rebuild the temple and, partly because of that, a number of people in various different occupations started to flock to the mountain. When it advertised the fact that trade there was subject neither to taxes nor to cumbersome rules, many merchants also came to open up shop, and Conscon Temple gradually grew in strength.

Then, however, relations suddenly took a turn for the worse.

The reason that was given later was that Bishop Rogress had been setting up a chapel within Allion’s castle, but an incident broke out when this temple was set alight. Many of the monks who had been inside it died. The bishop had barely escaped with his life, and he immediately returned to Conscon Temple, from where he  demanded that Allion extradite the criminals who had lit the fire.

Allion did not agree to this, but sent a delegation to try to repair relations. One of its members was Hayden Swift, who had stayed at General Claude’s manor.

Yet the temple turned them down. Moreover, they flung curses at Allion’s royal family.

“If Allion does not deliver the criminals to God’s justice, then divine punishment will strike its royal family. It will be cursed for now and all eternity. Newborn children will all be plagued with illness; crops for harvest and prey for hunting will all rot and die; castles and estates will be engulfed in flames. Before long, those who wear splendid clothes and adorn themselves in silver will all be dragged to the gallows.”

Allion was enraged. They considered it a declaration of war. The temple, meanwhile, did not back down, showing themselves ready to put up a fight.

The temple did not belong to any country, so it was often the target of brigands. Because of that, it had long since bought weapons – cannons and guns included – from various countries, and most of its young monks, despite being in the priesthood, were armed. When an enemy who blasphemed against God’s teachings appeared, they were ever ready to repel them, not with words of prayer or curses but with steel and bullets.

Percy, however, could not help thinking that, ''Allion is said to be able to mobilise ten thousand troops at all times. The difference compared to Atall is huge. It’s not clear how many of those they’ll use to threaten the temple, but it won’t just be several dozen, or even several hundred.''

Although the temple had hurriedly recruited mercenaries, Percy had been wandering about the mountain since early that morning, and at his rough estimate, the number of men available to fight was around seven or eight hundred. Moreover, most of them were not professional soldiers but bandits or the sons of farmers. Among them might even be men who had attacked the temple and more than once been repelled, so it was hard to say that preserving command would be easy.

Quite the opposite: if they had responded to the call for recruitment thinking that it would at least temporarily protect them from rain and hunger, wouldn’t most of them run away as fast as they could once the fighting began?

Yet when he had met Bishop Rogress the previous evening, he had seemed as calm as though they were just chatting over tea. Although the difference in strength was obvious, surely, when the time came, God would sweep aside the enemies of the virtuous – the bishop could not possibly naively believe that.

''Or else… could Dytiann, in the east, be sending reinforcements?'' 

That thought had been on Percy’s mind even before they had come rushing to the temple. The Holy Dytiann Alliance, which existed further east than Atall, was a collection of countries and states gathered under one religion. And that religion was the same one that the temple had been founded on. Currently, Dytiann was regarded as the only equal to Allion’s might on the continent.

It would not be surprising if Dytiann sent reinforcements to the temple – not least as a way of restraining Allion, which appeared to be trying to extend its reach eastwards. The previous evening, Percy had obliquely probed around for information about the alliance’s participation, but Bishop Rogress did not say what he had expected him to. Seperate from that, however, he had said something interesting.

“I did not curse Allion’s royal family,” Bishop Rogress had smiled gently. “For one who serves God, uttering curses is anathema. Besides which, God bound Allion’s royal family and myself together so that this temple might be rebuilt. I feel nothing but gratitude towards the royal family, and there is no room in my heart for hatred and resentment towards them.” 

His slender eyes twinkled. “Rather than being about the relation between myself and the royal family, this affair will serve to reveal the wicked designs that some in Allion harbour. They will use any kind of lie and they twist the facts so as to invade and plunder this sacred ground. Is it those repulsive sorcerers, who have made a nest for themselves at the centre of Allion’s government, or is it depraved nobles or warriors who hope to taste the delicious fruits of war? Whatever the case, if I know the king of Allion, he won't squander any great amount of money or time on such a meaningless war. After sending troops once for form’s sake, he is sure to immediately turn back.”

''Is it really that simple? No… first of all, does Master Rogress even believe that himself?''

Percy could not read his real thoughts. Although this was a situation in which battle could break out at any moment, the bishop seemed proportionally unconcerned about his own life.

''Anyway, let’s just hope that our Sovereign-Prince of Atall doesn’t draw the short end of the stick'', while Percy continued to pursue his thoughts, he put the tip of his forefinger into his mouth, then brought his finger, moist with saliva, over both of his eyebrows. 

“That’s an unusual good-luck charm, Sir Percy,” a voice suddenly called out to him from behind.

When he turned to look around, a young warrior monk was standing before him. Over his chainmail, he was wearing a white, knee-length clerical robe that was tied at his waist with a blue cloth. Although Percy realised that the man had been present last night in the room where the meeting with Rogress had taken place, that was not what surprised him.

“You remember my name?”

At the time, the leader of the five hundred soldiers, Nauma Laumarl, had been invited along with several platoon leaders, Percy included. The young warrior monk had not been present for more than a few minutes either.

“Once I meet someone, I never forget their face,” far from looking proud, the warrior monk spoke as though blandly stating a fact. “It seems you have been walking around by yourself since early this morning, but have you eaten, Sir Percy?”

Smoke from breakfast fires was rising throughout the town. Mercenaries could be seen lining up along the roadside.

“I’m sorry to treat an officer in command of a unit like an ordinary soldier, but please line up over there if you haven't yet had anything.”

“What are you saying? Honestly, there’s not much difference between a platoon leader and a rank-and-file soldier. Please don’t worry about it.”

“Is that so? Still, I feel a bit embarrassed to ask someone of noble blood to line up alongside bandits and burglars.” The young warrior monk cast an irritated gaze at the mercenaries who were talking in loud and vulgar voices.

''Somehow, he feels kind of fierce for a priest…'' Percy noted inwardly.

First of all, the man's appearance was ferocious. He had thick eyebrows, sharp eyes that slanted upwards as though pulled by a thread, and cheeks that looked as if they had been hollowed out. Rather than a monk, his face was that of a young warrior burning with ambition. His physique was also impressive, and his height did not compare at all unfavourably with Percy’s, who was considered tall among those his age. The spear he carried in his hand was certainly not just for show. From the jaunty swing of his shoulder down to the way he walked, he exuded a certain air of self-confidence. Percy’s own strong point was his spearmanship, so he could tell.

It was obvious that he was valiant. So it must be irritating for him to be in a situation where they needed to invite people of doubtful origin into the temple precincts to protect it. It was easy for Percy to tell given that the warrior monk’s anger-filled gaze had, for a while now, been turned not only towards the mercenaries, but also towards Percy himself.

As mentioned previously, the one leading Percy's group was a man called Nauma Laumarl. The Laumarl House was a renowned noble family within Atall, and Nauma was the second son. When he had come here, however, he had introduced himself as “Nauma ''Shalling''.”

“I was born and raised in a House directly descended from the nobility of the Magic Dynasty, one that has established a castle, albeit a modest one, far to the southeast of here. Up until now, I have simply passed my days in self-indulgence, supported by the good people who still continue to venerate the lineages of those ancient times, but on this occasion, in order to punish Allion for its godless acts, I hastily shook the rust from my spear and armour that were lying idle in storage, hurriedly gathered my retainers, and immediately came to you,” he had claimed.

That was of course a complete lie. Percy Leegan had not revealed his family name either. Although the Leegan House was not as famous as the Laumarl family, they had supported the ruling House of Attiel for many generations. The reason they had concealed both of those family names was because they did not wish to reveal that they were ‘reinforcements from the principality of Atall’.

– When he had received the request for reinforcements from Conscon Temple, Magrid Attiel, sovereign-prince of Atall, had been tearing his hair out.

With Allion in the west and the Holy Dytiann Alliance in the east, his tiny country was only barely managing to maintain good relations with both of those huge powers. Although they had made the mistake of entering in a skirmish with Allion nearly seven years ago, the difference in power between them was just too great, so in the end, they were forced to negotiate a reconciliation by offering the second-born prince, Leo Attiel, as a hostage.

With Allion in the west and the Holy Dytiann Alliance in the east, his tiny country was only barely managing to maintain good relations with both of those huge powers. Although they had made the mistake of entering in a skirmish with Allion nearly seven years ago, the difference in power between them was just too great, so in the end, they were forced to negotiate a reconciliation by offering the second-born prince, Leo Attiel, as a hostage.

Lending their aid to Conscon Temple against Allion would, inevitably, put an end to that reconciliation. Who knew what would befall the hostage Leo and, more importantly, the next place Allion would send troops to would be Atall. Therefore, when he received the appeal from Conscon Temple, Sovereign-prince Magrid should have turned away the messenger.

And yet, he had been “tearing his hair out”.

In plain speech, Conscon Temple was a neutral buffer zone between Allion and Atall. If Allion conquered it and established a military outpost there, for Atall, it would virtually mean having a huge blade thrust beneath their noses.

For some time now, Magrid had heard rumours that Allion was planning to extend its power eastwards, that it was planning an “eastern expedition” so to speak. Atall was not its target; it was only a small power that they would trample through while advancing their troops to destroy Holy Dytiann. And there was someone who persuaded Magrid that Conscon Temple was the first step towards that.

“My Lord Sovereign-prince, if we overlook this, it would be the same as allowing vermin to devour our crops. In no time at all, our people, our assets, our buildings – all will be a harvest for Allion to pillage.”

The one who spoke was Oswell, a domain lord with a castle in the south of Atall.

The northern part of the principality was largely governed by Sovereign-Prince Magrid, his relatives and the retainers whose families had been loyal to his for generations. The southern half, however, was divided between the nobles who held lands there. These nobles, who were known as the ‘vassal lords’, had a somewhat complicated relationship with the ruling House of Attiel. Although theirs was a master-servant relationship, the sovereign-prince could not unilaterally issue commands to them.

Faced with this situation, Magrid had invited several vassal lords to the castle to offer their counsel, but most of them had opposed sending reinforcements.

“There is no need to even think about it,” even surrounded by scornful laughter, Oswell had stuck to his opinion. “We should send soldiers. We must hurry, and we cannot afford to lose the time spent here hesitating over this.”

“But wouldn’t that be handing Allion the perfect excuse to attack us?”

“If Allion feels like attacking us, they’ll come up with some excuse to invade us anyway. More importantly, this is Conscon Temple. Now that Shazarn was driven to the north in the last war, the temple is essentially our country’s final shield. We shouldn’t disregard its religious influence either. Even among Allion’s soldiers, there are many who belong to the Cross Faith. Because of the rumours about the royal family having been insulted, national sentiment is currently at fever pitch, but if the war drags on, more and more voices will start defending the temple. But if by then it is already a smouldering ruin, it won’t help us any. We have to lend aid to the temple to allow it to hold fast.”

Oswell seemed to be implying that the continued existence of the temple in its present form was vital to national interests – not their current interests, but those of Atall’s future. Taking into account the process by which he himself had arrived on the throne, Sovereign-prince Magrid placed his trust in Oswell’s words.

However, since they had sent a hostage to Allion, they could not allow their soldiers to fly the flag of Atall. Therefore, they informed only Bishop Rogress that Atall agreed to send reinforcements in the form of five hundred soldiers, while the official story was the earlier lie about “Nauma Shalling, who traces his lineage back to the ancient dynasty, etc.”

This young warrior monk who had called out to Percy probably knew all about it, however. Given that he had shown up at the meeting, he must be close to the bishop. And that was also why he was looking at Percy with unconcealed irritation.

''What a tedious thing to do. Or are you saying that Atall can’t be seen to uphold justice?''

His annoyance was directly connected to the misgivings that Percy had been feeling earlier about the bishop. In other words, no one could tell where this war – if it even came to war – was heading.

The young warrior monk tore his eyes away from the rowdy men.

“Please feel free to laugh at my ignorance, but I had never heard Lord Shalling’s name before. Where is his castle?”

“As his lordship said last night, it’s in a land far to the southeast.”

“Does that mean that it’s further east than Atall’s domains? Let’s see… if it’s near Dytiann, the situation would be a little complicated, but…”

He was implicitly pointing out that – ''I know what that situation actually is''.

At the same time – ''Does Atall intend to call it quits with a troop of just five hundred? Are there going to be reinforcements or not?''

Although aware of the implicit question, Percy avoided answering. It wasn’t so much because he had good reason not to answer, as because Percy found it amusing how this man was desperately trying to swallow his annoyance. It was clear from his words that he was educated. And yet, perhaps because of his youth, or because of inborn temperament, it felt as though his emotions were in danger of exploding at any moment. Percy liked his fervour. He was jealous of it, considering that he himself could not work up anything but the minimal amount of enthusiasm for this fight. And because of that, he felt like winding the other up a bit.

Just then –

“Big brother, what are you standing around chatting about so early in the morning? I’m sure it’s something interesting. Won’t you let me join in?”

A woman called out to the warrior monk from behind him.

''Oh'' – Percy unconsciously sighed in admiration.

That was how beautiful she was.