Chapter 371: Mothership (1)
Just before entering the Moving Castle, the elven chiefs felt gazes piercing them from the balconies.
“Hello! Welcome!”
Dark elf women and children waved cheerfully.
“Calm down. You already heard they live here, didn’t you?”
The one who bristled at the downward gazes was restrained by companions. The dark elves seemed to have no malicious intent. But given the long-standing enmity, some elves inevitably viewed them askance.
“Can you still say that after seeing those burned fields?”
“Permission was granted by Britainia’s king and our queen. Originally, crops couldn’t be harvested because of monsters anyway. Don’t cling to meaningless things.”
The elder elves patted the younger ones and entered the lobby. Some raised eyebrows at the dwarf guards at the entrance, but none voiced complaints.
“My respected queen. Her loyal subjects. Welcome aboard.”
The elves looked around in confusion. Eugene’s voice emanated not only from his lips but from speakers throughout the castle.
With their keen hearing, they realized the source was the ventilation ducts. Acting as Eugene’s vocal cords, the speakers delivered his voice to all guests in a gentle murmur.
“The king of Britainia and the castle of magic being one and the same—that wasn’t a metaphor, was it?”
“It’s remarkably warm inside despite winter. Not a single fire visible anywhere.”
The amazed elves waved their hands through the air, feeling the warmth.
Elenost was heated by heat radiating from trees that absorbed hot spring water. The elves took great pride in this mystical technology.
But heating through leaf radiation outside the building was wasteful. It couldn’t compare to circulating warm air through the castle’s ventilation system.
“The dragon has fallen, but monsters that flooded in due to the dragon remain a grave threat. Your villages maintain the highest alert level, and most trade routes are still severed.”
Prolonged heightened patrols and dangerous scouting had left warriors exhausted. With gathering and hunting blocked, conditions in the villages would only worsen.
The elven chiefs traveled to the Moving Castle for more than just protecting their queen.
Unable to seek outside help, they couldn’t afford to放弃 the castle’s robust support.
‘This is too valuable to end with a one-time material donation.’
Eugene intended to make the most of this opportunity. With the Great Forest dangerous, now was the perfect time to ease inter-racial tensions.
If elves, dark elves, and dwarves continued to growl at each other in the future, Eugene couldn’t run the nation as planned.
“The situation is perilous, but there’s no need to worry. The great upheaval you’re experiencing now is familiar to us. We’ve traveled the world, treading on lands in trouble just like this—treading again and again. And the result stands right there.”
Eugene stepped aside with an elegant gesture, revealing the lobby where champions and monsters previously slain were displayed.
The most eye-catching exhibit was the Lamia Queen.
“Oh, the Queen.”
An elven chief’s spontaneous utterance made him clamp a hand over his mouth in shock. To praise a monster while speaking of their own queen!
But fortunately, no one rebuked him.
Three times the size of an ordinary Lamia, with horns crown-shaped on her forehead, a woman’s upper body of beauty and wisdom, and thick golden scales covering the massive serpentine lower body—no word fit her majestic and alluring form better than “queen.”
The Lamia Queen’s taxidermy had remained coiled until this year, when Cassandra’s suggestions led to its renewal.
A massive gilded cross was erected, the Lamia Queen’s arms bound to either side, while her serpent body coiled down the cross’s pillar.
“I’ve seen many monster taxidermies, but this is on another level entirely. I’ve never seen one elevated to the realm of fine art.”
“Using silver instead of gold was brilliant. The contrast of gold and silver, and the metaphor that evil cannot overcome good—the symbolism is exquisite!”
Elves had a particular tendency to become immersed in artistic and beautiful things.
“…”
In their distraction, no one noticed Valda’s ears droop. Even the gentle and generous Valda was still an elf. When she felt defeated in artistic sensibility, she couldn’t muster her usual energy.
“That troll is enormous?”
The Forest Tyrant Ogre couldn’t be overlooked either—a troll so massive even an ogre would look down on it.
“A champion! That’s a champion!”
“I’ve read about it in records. It destroyed five villages and even killed a prince who came to subdue it…”
“Watch your words!”
The surrounding chiefs quickly signaled caution. But neither Eugene nor Valda minded such a slip. They simply weren’t accustomed to the rules yet.
‘A troll hero appeared in the Great Forest too?’
The taxidermied figure in the Moving Castle was the son of a divinely blessed troll hero, but its ferocity and size were still tremendous.
“A Striga?”
“The Countess!”
The newly added Striga Queen also drew great interest. Despite being a monster, she had imitated dignity and nobility, earning her the nickname “Countess.”
“Even in death, she tries to seduce the living.”
“A vile creature, truly.”
Like the legend of the snake-headed witch who turned people to stone, the Striga Queen continued to emanate a faint enchanting aura even after death—a power inherent to her physical form.
The chiefs shook their heads at the mesmerizing allure. This was what made Strigas more dangerous than creatures relying solely on brute strength.
Even the elves had once suffered greatly.
“She was the perpetrator of the serial killings in Elenost.”
“What?”
“Such a thing occurred?”
At a chief’s words, Eugene and Valda looked curious.
“It was approximately 160 years ago. Suddenly, desiccated corpses appeared every few days. The city militia and veteran rangers couldn’t make progress. Nearly thirty people died, and citizens locked themselves in their homes. Elenost became like a ghost town, it’s said.”
Physical ability, disguise, evil magic, high intelligence—the Striga Queen possessed all four. Elenost had faced its first and greatest mass murder case since the city’s founding.
“How was she tracked down?”
“Ranger Lasrandir succeeded in the pursuit.”
King’s Counsel Lasrandir had arrested the Striga Queen, who was disguised as a palace maid.
-Please, please spare me!
-Lasrandir, sir! She’s the second daughter of the Black Oak Village chief!
Unarmed in the palace, Lasrandir remained unmoved as the cunning Striga Queen pleaded through tears, despite being able to break free at any moment.
Even with royal guards surrounding her with drawn swords, Lasrandir didn’t flinch.
“How did you determine she was a Striga? You couldn’t very well torture her.”
Without a single dagger, how could one expose a perfectly disguised Striga Queen? Without Eugene’s superhuman strength, it would have been impossible.
“I rubbed a handful of fermented mustard extract on the Striga Queen’s face.”
“…I’d like to meet that person someday.”
Eugene admired the veteran ranger’s straightforward approach.
-Koff! Koff! Koff! Khee! Gweck!
The Striga Queen coughed wildly, producing tears and mucus, until her true form was finally revealed.
Her flowing dress tore as her body swelled violently, and her delicate face transformed into that of a killing machine stained with greed and hunger.
-It’s a Striga!
-Aaahh!
Everyone was vulnerable during transformation. The surrounding elf royal guards charged immediately, but the queen killed half of them and escaped freely.
‘A more formidable creature than expected?’
But now she was nothing more than a taxidermy specimen. The chiefs who had been in Elenost at the time felt satisfaction seeing the Striga Queen reduced to a trophy.
“…”
Among them was one who felt more than satisfaction—rage. The chief of Black Oak Village.
Strigas thoroughly destroyed evidence of the forms they stole. That’s why this chief couldn’t even find his daughter’s body.
Though his dead daughter wouldn’t return, at least he’d achieved revenge. This was why power was so valuable.
“Demons?!”
During the Roman Civil War, the hellish warriors slain at the Oncalo Monastery couldn’t be overlooked either.
“There are Death Knights too.”
The bodies had been destroyed, but the armor they wore was coated in death and malice. Witches who accompanied the army treated them specially, preserving them in a form similar to taxidermy.
One at Rasta Monastery, two at Oncalo Monastery—three Death Knights in total now rested before the demons.
Their weapons planted in the ground, gauntlets raised—it was arranged as if they stood vigil against demons even in death.
‘What kind of journey did this young king and his army endure?’
The chiefs’ gazes filled with awe. Eugene judged the atmosphere was sufficiently ripe.
“It’s not strange for different races to be at odds. But could your hatred surpass that of the monsters threatening your villages? My warriors and I, as you can see, have strived to drive evil from this world. Please help us do the same in the Great Forest.”
Leading a main force of dwarves and dark elves would enable a great sweep from Elenost to the outer villages. The bonus of supply lines through villages along the way would be even better.
This was what Eugene wanted from the chiefs—a proposal he couldn’t easily make even as Valda’s husband and a dragon slayer with honor.
But now?
“Black Oak Village will cooperate with the king.”
The chief who had lost his granddaughter to the Striga Queen was the first to step forward.
“If we serve the royal house of the First Age, we must follow the ways of that era. It won’t be easy to reverse the path we’ve walked for so long, but…”
The second to approach was the eldest-looking elf.
“Dwarves and elves fighting together are the finest partners, each covering the other’s weaknesses. You’ve revived that powerful bond that was severed after the First Age. Upon hearing that story, I’ve been waiting only for the day I could participate.”
The Avarim elves seized the opportunity to sway opinion. Naturally, what they said wasn’t untrue.
Thus, Eugene secured the agreement of a considerable number of chiefs. With the main force, large-scale purification operations became possible.
*
When the Moving Castle’s freezer door opened, the elves’ faces froze.
It was just one door. Just one door opened, yet an extreme winter descended upon them. But there was no time to be surprised by the cold.
“Am I seeing things?”
The elven chief who owned a vineyard rubbed his eyes. He was a farm owner who had supplied wine to Elenost Palace for generations.
The grapevines lined in rows had long been this chief’s pride, but now an eerily similar scene unfolded before his eyes.
“All that’s… meat?”
The difference was that instead of grapevines, the space was packed with ribs, red flesh, and white fat—cut pieces of meat.
Countless pigs and cattle hung upside down. Heads removed, hides skinned, bodies split from neck to groin and opened wide for washing.
It was a scene one could only see in the distant future when factory farming was introduced. Naturally, the elves’ minds couldn’t properly process it.
-With this much meat, not a single fly?
-Naturally. What kind of fly could survive this cold?
-Oh…
Actually, the brain freeze wasn’t limited to elves. Merchants visiting for trade showed the same reaction.
“Left side is pork, right side is beef. Sheep and chickens are in Warehouse 2, fish in Warehouse 3. Please verify.”
Mistakes led to farce. Some chiefs, excited like children exploring warehouses, collapsed in horror.
Before them, the freezer held skinned and butchered monster corpses piled high.
“You don’t eat monsters too, do you?”
Goblins, orcs, and even a plucked harpy in the corner.
“Not like chicken…”
The harpy’s post-mortem contracted body looked exactly like a chicken leg from the knees down. With the head removed, it truly resembled extra-large chicken.
But the prominently swelling breasts gave it an utterly amazing silhouette.
“Preposterous! This is stockpiled for military dogs and Vargus. Adorable creatures though they are, we can’t very well feed them the meat meant for humans!”
The warehouse manager protested indignantly.
“That would be the case.”
“It’s also excellent bait for traps during monster hunts. The best lures are meat and blood, but using pigs and cattle would be wasteful.”
With limited preservation technology, monster corpses were typically abandoned or burned. Unless they were useful species like Cockatrices, Trolls, or Ogres.
But the Moving Castle, holding winter itself, could put even an orc’s body to practical use.
“That’s true too. Your practical thinking—that’s probably why the king has won every battle.”
The elven chiefs’ validation softened the warehouse manager’s expression.
“I was too hasty and peeked where I shouldn’t have. Judging by the signs, this seems like a warehouse you shouldn’t enter without permission.”
“It’s fine. These warning signs must be unfamiliar to you.”
The monster freezer had its entire door painted black with “Restricted Access” warnings. Though most people ignored them.
After the elves left, the warehouse manager scolded his kobold subordinate. Monster corpses weren’t aesthetically pleasing, and there were regulations about that which hadn’t been followed.
“You mutt! Can’t you do it right? I told you to close the door when working in the feed warehouse!”
“But boss. It’s too cold that way!”
“Then layer up! Enduring cold is part of your compensation!”
“But I seem to get paid the same as the other warehouse guys…”
“Because you don’t do meat trimming or bloodletting!”
Compared to other warehouses requiring delicate work, the monster warehouse keepers had a simple routine.
1. Throw the monster corpse into the warehouse.
2. Quickly wipe the floor before anything spilled during the process freezes.
3. When the corpse freezes, bring a saw and cut it into manageable pieces.
4. Distribute as needed.
Excluding the cold, it was simple work. The smell didn’t even stick to your body.
“But… ah, fine.”
The warehouse manager lowered his raised fist, trembling. Normally he would’ve delivered a blow, but today they were hosting honored guests.
Plus, the kobold before him was a Husky clan member from northern Midgard. Though whiny, he was effective in the freezer since his body didn’t slow down from the cold.
*
-We’re selling at a loss.
One of the world’s three great lies. When human merchants said this, elven chiefs never believed them. But when the Easterner before them said it, everyone accepted it.
“You’d exchange at this ratio?!”
“There’s still profit to be made.”
“Impossible!”
The Easterner smiled.
Behind him were stacked sacks of various grains. Beside him were the exchange rates for supplies the elves could provide.
In every respect, it was cheaper than the trading firms they’d dealt with before. Some spices were even over ten times cheaper.
“Could the Small Kingdoms have been ripping us off all this time?”
“Please don’t misunderstand. Those friends trade honestly. Horses to pull the carts, guards for protection, traveling long distances—they need to cover those costs. Taxes are levied along the way. They have to charge that much.”
Intermediary trade using the Moving Castle operated in two main modes.
One was selling slightly cheaper than others while making exorbitant profits. The other was selling cheaply to those with whom one wished to build friendly relations while still making a profit.
…The terrifying part was that both methods made money.
At the salt warehouse, greater shock awaited the chiefs.
“Salt has been designated by His Majesty as emergency relief supplies. With trade routes collapsed, it’s the most urgent material right now. Each settlement has received a quota proportional to its population. You may take it freely.”
“Ooh!”
“His Majesty’s benevolence brings glory!”
Unlike the chiefs who accepted readily, some eyed the offer suspiciously.
“Let’s be honest. There’s something else involved, isn’t there? There’s no such thing as a free lunch in this world.”
“Love has no cost. His Majesty cannot bear to see the queen suffer. Remember, Britainia and the Elven Kingdom are now allies. He won’t refuse to fight your enemies, so what’s a little salt?”
When spoken this way, there was nothing to argue.
“If you need it, we can lend carts and horses.”
“Thank you.”
Even the suspicious chiefs accepted their salt quietly.
“With this, we should be fine until next year.”
With salt, grain, dried meat, and consumable contracts completed, the elves finally breathed easy.
They had secured good news for both safety and stability. They could return to their people with pride. But that was a matter for later.
Right now, curiosity—growing to the point of bursting—came first.
“The Department Store. I wonder just how remarkable a place it is to warrant such an arrogant name.”
A young chief spoke with a resentful expression. His father had died in reconnaissance during the monster crisis, thrusting him into the chieftain’s role at a young age.
He seemed offended by words dark elves had passed along with smiles.
“Don’t take it too hard. What the dark elves said—we’ve received great kindness, it’s true.”
“I still need to see it with my own eyes to be satisfied.”
“Go ahead then.”
“You’re not coming?”
“I want to visit the Food Court. The food I ate while wandering the human world in my youth—those flavors I miss.”
The elves dispersed to wherever their interests lay.
*
Meanwhile, in the Moving Castle lobby, two ladies were locked in a tense standoff—a regular event whenever a major monster hunt occurred.
Blue corner: Valda.
Red corner: Cassandra.
The topic: how to display the trophy Eugene had brought.
The win-loss record stood at 6:4 in Valda’s favor. Their artistic sense was comparable, but Valda’s status often led Cassandra to yield.
But this time, Cassandra couldn’t back down. It wasn’t just any trophy—it was a dragon’s head.
“It’s been over a week since death, yet it’s still warm.”
“Be careful. Don’t touch the blood carelessly.”
“Tying it up with the Hydra or other reptile monsters is an insult. This majesty, this beauty…”
“Hehehe. His Majesty promised to paint the dragon on our banner.”
“You brats. New recruits with the nerve…”
Castle residents had all gathered to watch, so the head was placed in the open area before the main gate. The balconies of the castle were packed with spectators.
“Hey, you heartless lot! Let us see too!”
Dwarves hidden in the crowd called out piteously, but no one listened.
“Dad! Higher!”
“Mom, a little to the left.”
Dark elf children had no problem watching—parents carried them on their shoulders.
“Ugh. Can’t see…”
“I’m sorry, honey!”
But dwarf parents could only ache with guilt.
Back in the lobby. The elven queen and dark princess, arms crossed, stared each other down. Neither would yield.
“Hunting a dragon is the greatest glory a knight can claim. The trophy should be displayed in its entirety from head to toe. A truly great work of art shouldn’t have a single detail altered.”
Valda argued for placing it whole in the Bone Museum where the Hydra was displayed.
“The lobby is the first place guests enter. Imagine a dragon’s head greeting them the moment the great gates open. No matter their purpose for visiting, it would overwhelm them in an instant.”
“But the lobby can only barely accommodate the head. Head in the lobby, the rest in the Bone Museum separately? The awe of the two halves combined wouldn’t match what the whole provides.”
“How many people actually visit the Bone Museum? But every guest must pass through the lobby. The advantage of first impression is enormous.”
The two stood their ground evenly. When this happened, the person in trouble was always the same.
“Eugene.”
“Your Majesty.”
‘Curse it.’
Golden eyes and violet eyes fixed on him simultaneously, and Eugene bit his lip. Great power came with great responsibility.
*
Despite owning the Moving Castle for so long, far more space remained unused than utilized.
The first priority issue was not filling rooms due to careful resident selection. The second was not understanding how certain areas functioned.
The Moving Castle was a collection of lost technologies and magic. No matter how synchronized Eugene was, his intuitive understanding had limits.
But with careful experimentation and the knowledge of dwarven engineers, witches, magi, and summoners gathered in one place, new discoveries emerged through organic collaboration.
One such newly added feature was background music.
[♩♪♪♩♪ ♪♪♫♪]
Beautiful flute-led music echoed throughout the department store.
The Moving Castle’s core teleported based on the lord’s image. This level of technology naturally produced derivative capabilities.
One room in the Moving Castle could store music the way a music box did, recording pieces that deeply moved Eugene.
“…”
“…”
The elves who arrived at the department store in high spirits were struck speechless.
Across the great ocean lay a new continent.
To the east, beyond the Mirage Desert, lay the Eastern Empire.
To the north, the icy mountains descended into a kingdom of snow.
To the south, beyond Samur, the Southern Kingdoms stretched.
Every object from every corner of the civilized world was displayed.
Products sorted by department were dust-free, and even ordinary clerks wore clothes so elegant only nobles would.
But more brilliant than the clothes was the clerks’ warm smile. Fundamentally different from what the elves had seen from merchants until now.
This was a smile achievable only through training—a combination of pride and fulfillment.
A new world lay before them, entirely different from the elves’ concept of a “market.”
[♩♪♫♪♪ ♪♫♪♪]
Sweet music curled around their ears. The elves felt unknown emotions surge through them, tears rising unbidden.