Chapter 376: The Couple's Concerns

Though Eugene was suddenly absent, no commotion arose. Valda, as both queen and wife, deftly managed the situation, preventing unnecessary speculation.

Moreover, the Moving Castle was the only cruise ship of this era. Even without the lord raising a glass at the head of the banquet to hype the mood, everyone enjoyed themselves.

The entertainment enjoyed by chiefs and knights until now had centered on banquets with bards and jesters. The amusements here were far more special.

The most popular were ball games. In a culture that revered warriors, everyone easily became absorbed in physical activities.

“Shoot! Ahhh…”

“Hurry! The hourglass is half empty! At this rate, the vanguard position…”

The indoor futsal court was always full. Simpler rules than football, requiring fewer players, and allowing individual ball contact—this made it faster to pick up.

The fact that football couldn’t be played due to wartime restrictions requiring large outdoor spaces also contributed significantly. The knights wagered minor privileges from the remaining monster suppression operations on their matches.

Naturally, the southern knights, where football had been introduced first, excelled in ball skills. The western, central, and eastern knights were comparable, while the northern knights, where football was just beginning to spread, were quite poor.

“Block it! Block!”

“I’m going!”

“Damn it! Tackle the ball, not the empty space!”

Knights who spent all day in combat training except for eating and sleeping. Their abundant energy let them maintain fierce full-time play and enjoy themselves thoroughly.

The tactical nature combined with the glory of scoring suited the knights’ tastes perfectly.

Elves, however, seemed to find both football and futsal disagreeable. The physical contact, falling, and exchanging sweat and dust lacked dignity.

“Too easy to pass! Like this—smashing down from above!”

Pow!

The elves vastly preferred foot volleyball played with a net in between. The most personal-space-conscious of the intelligent races, this suited them perfectly.

Among the Britannian knights, there were quite a few who enjoyed foot volleyball, and as both races mixed and played, relationships progressed rapidly.

“Header! Use your head!”

“I don’t want to mess up my hair.”

“What?!”

Elven fastidiousness occasionally caused minor trouble. When a ball that could easily be headed was deliberately aimed with feet, resulting in a point loss.

In truth, the sport elves loved most was billiards.

“Philiamor is truly the father of sports. How did he devise such an elegant game?”

Billiards required no undignified raising of feet and legs by elven standards. It was a refined sport enjoyed by elegantly leaning the upper body forward.

The posture of gripping the cue and thrusting, and the act of calculating the ball’s trajectory, strongly evoked archery as well.

“Excellent, Your Majesty!”

Billiards was also Valda’s favorite sport. With the queen personally playing, it became even more popular among the elven chiefs.

“Does Philiamor also enjoy billiards?”

“Unfortunately, he does not.”

Valda spoke with a wistful expression. Even in that moment, her motion of chalking the cue tip was so elegant that the elves offered reverence to their queen.

“I can’t understand it at all. What greater blessing could there be than enjoying this delightful game with Your Majesty?”

The chief’s words weren’t flattery. Every elf present genuinely believed so.

“He said the billiard balls and table didn’t meet his standards.”

Due to technical limitations, billiard balls were crafted from elephant ivory or the fangs of certain monsters. The cloth covering the table was made from velvet-like fabric.

-This isn’t billiards.

Eugene, repeatedly defeated by his wife who possessed extraordinary talent for billiards, had gone to play futsel, citing “incomplete restoration” as the problem. Valda had defended her husband’s honor rather than stating the truth.

Meanwhile, many others were drawn to entertainment requiring mental rather than physical prowess.

“Checkmate.”

“Castle…”

“Castling in a checkmate position is a foul.”

As always, chess was immensely popular. The Moving Castle’s board game cafe stocked nearly a hundred varieties.

Commissioned from Kajador and purchased as dwarven products, they came in every mineral and design, offering the enjoyment of selection.

If a knight and an elf played, the knight used pieces modeled on human armies, while the elf used pieces modeled on elven forces.

“Check.”

The knight being played now was shaped like a mounted heavy cavalryman, while the defending elf’s knight rode a raptor.

But humans were always drawn to what couldn’t be savored at any other time. Games receiving as much attention as traditional chess existed.

“Hurry and flip the card.”

“I feel uneasy. Wait! Rain here?”

“In rainy conditions, you can only move half distance.”

“If that happens, my army’s provisions…”

Eugene had created new board games by imitating and combining Monopoly and wargame types. The materials were possible with current technology, but the concept was entertainment that wouldn’t appear until the far future.

“Ha! Proposing a ceasefire for that mere pittance of gold? You take the world too lightly.”

“My gold mine!”

“I’ll put it to good use.”

The games themselves were enjoyable, but the feeling of wielding power as a ruler—the richness of that sensation was incomparably more intense than chess. Free knights who hadn’t yet made a name for themselves were intoxicated by that ecstasy.

These board games weren’t developed by Eugene purely for entertainment.

“So this is the terrain of the new continent Your Majesty explored. Horrible in a different way than Midgard.”

“Why can’t we cross this river by swimming, when we could the other?”

“It says ‘Boiling River’ here. You need to draw a ship card to pass.”

This itself was historical education and publicity for the Mayer family.

“The king of Midgard died here. When Your Majesty sentenced him to death, I was also present.”

“Trapped in the Hero’s Tomb. Doubles (both dice showing the same number) are needed to escape.”

“Can’t we challenge it boldly and escape like Your Majesty did?”

“Your Majesty isn’t a commoner, sir.”

“Now that’s a bit harsh.”

Eugene had created games based on regions he’d adventured through as thematic content.

“Raksha is this brutal? The Raksha Your Majesty recruited were all gentle.”

“You haven’t met the real ones yet. If you see them in Samur, throw a javelin immediately.”

“The Lamia Queen in the lobby was captured here. Shaking so many desert cities…”

Monsters and evil god champions Eugene had defeated also appeared as part of the game.

But with knights and nobles largely illiterate, someone was needed to read the text. Accompanying bards played the role of game master for pay, earning praise for their clear voices and appropriate method acting.

The castle’s hot springs and swimming pool maintained steady popularity.

“…Ahem.”

“Why the hesitation? Those permitted to enter the middle floor may use this freely.”

Ascetic knights who valued training entered the dark elf-filled gym hesitantly.

“That’s not how you do it.”

“Shouldn’t I pull like this?”

“Widen your legs more, and brace your arms like this…”

“Ohh! The muscle stimulation is definitely different.”

This was another moment where the two races’ relationship improved through a different form than futsal.

“Ha ha ha! Drain it to the last drop!”

“Glug glug glug-.”

Those who wanted nothing else and sought alcohol drank specialty beer repeatedly at the dwarven-run pub.

Circus and theater troupes employed by the Moving Castle performed nightly in rotation, and classical banquets for nobles and chiefs never ceased.

This was why, even with Eugene absent for days, everyone simply accepted it.

“I’m back.”

“Y-your Majesty?! Without guards, where did you…”

Of course, if the king’s absence continued much longer, concern would have escalated sharply, but Eugene returned in time. Moreover, with a gift that would surprise everyone.

*

Though Valda had been enthroned as the new queen, sentiment remained. Elves wept before the body of their former lord.

“Ah, to end in such a cruel state…”

“Those filthy orc bastards! They will pay!”

Ostyre was already dead. Eugene could overlook this much sentimentality.

“They’ve already paid. The entire orc band’s leadership and subordinates have been eliminated.”

“As His Majesty says. During the process, fires broke out, and their food stores were burning. They were already starving, and with their leadership lost, they’ll scatter.”

Lasrandir’s testimony was accepted without question by the elves. No matter who else might lie, this upright royal counselor would not.

“For orcs, their scale and cohesion were unusual. A summoner must have been their chief.”

“Engaged in evil rituals, that’s how they amassed such numbers.”

Lasrandir vividly described how Eugene and Homi had fought and destroyed the fire spirit.

“A fire spirit?!”

“If a high-ranking spirit of that magnitude was rampaging, the forest would have been in grave danger.”

Wildfire, especially one caused by a high-ranking spirit, was on a different level of danger. Everyone was amazed that such a fierce battle had occurred in the darkness while they ate, drank, and enjoyed themselves.

“Your sudden disappearance was for the rescue. But going without guards was too dangerous.”

“Could anyone keep pace with even half of Might’s speed and endurance?”

“Well…”

“It was an urgent situation. When I arrived, they had already torn off both his legs.”

Eugene pointed to Ostyre’s lower body. Elves and knights alike cursed the orcs’ barbarism.

“Extremely cunning creatures. If I had brought an army, they would have used him as a hostage. Bringing him at night was the best option. Unfortunately, it failed.”

“It wasn’t Your Majesty’s fault. If anyone insults this courage, I will challenge them to a duel.”

Knights thumped their chests with their fists one after another.

“What will be done with his body?”

“According to tradition. Lay him to rest beside the ancestors buried in Elenost. I’ll personally request a generous funeral from the queen.”

“…”

By this point, even those elves who had been somewhat biased had to acknowledge it.

‘Is this true chivalry?’

Elves who had despised the virtues humans claimed as hollow illusions. But when a truly great knight proved it through action, the nobility was comparable to the radiance of the sun.

Of course, Eugene had gone to assassinate Ostyre. No one in this gathering entertained such irreverent speculation.

Ostyre would have died regardless, and in every aspect, Eugene and Valda were overwhelming.

Yet the king personally rode day and night into an orc-infested camp? To imagine any dishonorable purpose here was simply absurd.

“Return safely.”

“Once again, we are grateful for His Majesty’s grace.”

Some chiefs and elite soldiers departed for Elenost carrying Ostyre’s coffin.

Due to Valda’s political position, a royal funeral was impossible. But treating it with the highest protocol during the regency was possible. At this level, there was virtually no difference from a royal funeral.

“Valda. Think of it as giving an extra rice cake to a hateful child.”

“I never hated him in the first place. There was no reason to oppose the decision.”

Unlike Eugene’s concern, Valda readily accepted the proposal.

“Your Majesty. The chief of Ice Leaf Village is requesting permission to enter Elenost. He wishes to receive punishment for not attending the coronation.”

Pro-Ostyre chiefs, upon hearing the news, began emerging from seclusion one by one. With their former lord’s death confirmed and his body recovered and given proper funeral rites, remaining hidden—whether for political calculation or genuine loyalty—was impossible.

*

Thus, the final mission in the Great Forest commenced. A massive army was deployed against the monster remnants still threatening the elf nation.

Britainia’s knight orders and private soldiers, Eugene’s dwarves and dark elves, the Lantzheim warrior unit, and the elf army unified under Valda.

The elite force of five digits crushed every visible enemy.

“A troll!”

“Stand back, humans!”

Dangerous foes appeared occasionally, but everyone was accustomed to them.

“To catch that one, we need our clan’s secret fire arrows. The undying flames will block its regeneration…”

“Stop! Stop! Put away those fire arrows! You damn stingy… ahem!”

In other words, Eugene’s army.

“What kind of judgment is that? Throwing money into a ditch?”

“Why is everyone like this?”

The Lantzheim warriors’ rebuke flustered the elves.

The Lantzheim warriors had been living abundantly under Eugene recently. But they had lived trembling over a single silver coin for far too long.

The moment they smelled money, their eyes changed. Trolls were creatures where nothing went to waste—not blood, hide, or even cartilage. A walking gold vault, one might say.

They were indeed terrifying monsters. Mercenary companies that encountered a troll while clearing a small monster village near a city and were destroyed—that was a common tale.

But trolls ranked in the top tier for reward relative to hunting difficulty.

Only the Hydra, Ogre, giant ambergris-bearing Serpent, Mandrake-bearing Alraune, and captured Unicorn or Bicorn were more valuable.

Every one was either a tyrant called monster king, extremely rare, or wielded magic.

Trolls were realistically the best opportunity for mercenaries to strike it rich.

“Humans. Don’t throw your lives away for greed. Without this divine fire, trolls can’t be dealt with. They regenerate from any wound instantly.”

The elf issuing this warning had joined after being pro-Ostyre.

“Listen here. If the wound heals, consider whether your arrows were too small.”

“…Huh?”

The artillery unit that arrived immediately assembled the Vindicator ballista on site. The fearsome arrows loaded on the string silenced even the elves.

“Fire!”

“Trolls heal wounds and stop the bleeding! No blood will be spilled, so shoot to your heart’s content!”

Clunk!

Clunk!

Clunk!

With heavy sounds, the launched bolts shattered the troll’s knees and pierced its belly.

“■■■!”

Caught off guard, the troll stared incredulously at the bolt lodged in its body.

Rrrr.

Even straining couldn’t dislodge it. The medium monster’s strength was considerable, but this was also legitimately classified as a siege weapon.

Trolls were normally quite cunning, making them difficult to hit this easily. But the Great Forest’s trolls had only faced poison darts and ordinary arrows. They naturally lacked awareness of siege weapons.

Thwack!

The troll’s skull was pierced, and it died ignominiously.

“Hurry! Every drop of its blood is worth more than a barrel of yours!”

Suppression operations proceeded smoothly across all regions. Severed roads were restored, and trade resumed. Supply convoys from the Moving Castle distributed materials to elf villages.

The moment the Great Forest finally normalized had arrived.

*

“Winter is almost over. By spring, we should be able to return to Britainia.”

Eugene set aside the operational reports gathered from various regions. Having earned sufficient glory, it was a king’s virtue to grant subordinates opportunities to shine.

“Ah, right there. That feels wonderful. You’re quite skilled?”

“I practiced while you were away.”

Eugene lay face down on the bed, receiving a massage from Valda. Oil glistened on his back, and her bare white feet walked over it.

With elven balance, pressure slightly stronger than the too-light Maria, and added affection from his wife—nothing could feel better.

“You’re not using your hands right now, are you?”

“Where do you think my voice is coming from?”

Indeed, Valda’s voice came from much higher up.

“Can you really make such delicate movements with your toes?”

“Eek! D-don’t move.”

“We’re on a bed anyway.”

Despite the sudden movement of his back, Valda maintained her balance effortlessly. After a brief tussle, they moved to business matters.

“Lasrandir is a capable man. Since becoming a ranger, he’s accumulated countless achievements for the forest’s stability. Saving him was the right decision.”

“But he’s old now. And he’s lost his arm—time to retire.”

“Even so, experience is paramount. That uprightness as well. Even with Ostyre being a tyrant, he united many chiefs because his mentor risked his life to speak truth.”

Valda paused briefly.

“In the future, when our child becomes master of Elenost, he’ll serve excellently as mentor and advisor.”

The footwork that had been loosening muscles gradually changed tone. The conception potion had been delayed longer than expected.

By the time the potion was complete, Eugene had to rush to Ostyre’s location. Somehow, abstinence had continued until now.

Both husband and wife had reached their limits.

“I hope the child resembles me.”

“I’m happy, but I hope they resemble you.”

“Then they’ll age faster than their mother, won’t they?”

“…”

“Ouch!”

Valda’s thumb and index toe pinched Eugene’s cheek.

But it wasn’t untrue. An elf-human hybrid—that was on a different level from racial mixing like black and white humans.

The two species shared the same Genus in biological classification but differed at the Species level. Well, that was only natural.

The difference was immediately apparent even in gestation. Humans required approximately nine months and ten days, but elven pregnancy lasted eleven months.

For reference, dwarven pregnancy took a year and a half. They were the only intelligent race exceeding one year.

-Rampage. Such a long gestation—no difficult births?

-Of course! Dwarven women are tough. Those pelvises are wide enough to serve as trebuchet baskets. I’ve never heard of someone dying in childbirth.

A solid physique that sacrificed aesthetic curves for maximum durability. This evolution eliminated the need to give birth prematurely.

This explained why dwarves could fall from ladders unscathed and why they were universally sturdy. Being born fully developed, robustness was natural.

Now, back to the original topic.

“Winter is almost over. Even considering the child, this year seems unlikely.”

“If they resemble you, we might see them sooner.”

It was simple to determine whether a half-elf had more human or elven blood: count the months spent in the mother’s womb.

This also served as a means to estimate the half-elf’s life expectancy.

“In some ways, it feels cruel. A child whose lifespan is predicted from birth.”

“…I’ve changed my mind. Just take after my black hair. Everything else should be entirely like me.”

“That won’t do. I love your golden hair, Valda. Seeing it dance in the wind is like a fantasy, and when tied indoors, it’s like watching golden silk thread.”

“Then the eyes…”

“Absolutely not. The way my heart races when we face each other in bed with the lights off—do you have any idea?”

“Then the ears…”

“Absolutely not!”

“What am I supposed to do?!”

Valda’s voice carried anger, but there was no pinching punishment like before.

Because she couldn’t tell whether to be angry or happy at her husband’s affection.