Game Mind of a Medieval Modern Person - Chapter 160



Only Noblemtl

160. The Sighs of Saint Illenius People often fantasize about battlefields where swords are wielded.

Some heard epics full of glittering honor and glory there, while others heard sobs stifled beneath their teeth.

From the minstrel singing with his breath flushed by intoxication to the widow stirring around a cold brazier.

Everyone was projecting illusions, whether positive or negative.

Only when we remove the bubble of this bubbling fantasy do we see reality.

Ariaba, swinging four times.

A man with a reddish blond beard lifted up a skull from which the flesh had been stripped away.

Underneath the heavy fur tent, relying on the sunlight streaming in through the gaps.

It’s a kind of ritual.

Of course, this ritual is not a tradition passed down by a tribal shaman or a ritual offered to the gods out of piety.

It was a ritual of his own devising, which allowed Ariaba to realize the harsh truth of the battlefield while facing the empty eye sockets of the one who had done harm.

Ariaba spoke directly to the skull of the knight he had decapitated.

“Landkeeper Warrior, you must have thought people were precious.”

Ariaba racked his brain, recalling his own tales of bravery.

Remember your opponent.

When it became clear that they would be surrounded, he was a knight who called himself a suicide squad and carried out a suicide attack to evacuate the villagers.

So Ariaba beheaded him himself.

Because a warrior for the community deserves respect wherever he goes.

However, the warriors of Ise differed from the landowners in a crucial aspect.

If his own tribe had been in the same crisis, he would have evacuated warriors who were more likely to survive.

Ariava pondered where this difference came from and found it in faith.

“But all life is equal. How could only humans be precious from the moment they are born? Huh? If God doesn’t acknowledge it, it can’t be precious. Hmm. Of course, I acknowledge that the starlight of an alien is a strong god.”

The harsh and hostile environment taught the warriors humility.

Humans are neither great nor precious in the face of the grand providence of nature.

Humans were fundamentally no different from beasts in a blizzard who hunted to live, filled their stomachs, and then fell asleep.

The only thing that can move such a human to a special position compared to other beasts is a higher being.

It is only natural to offer sacrifices to the great gods who find value in humans based on clear and rational standards.

But the alien starlight, Lux Stella, was a god who came from outer space and was very outside the norm.

“Unlike our gods, who grant power in exchange for an acceptable price, your god speaks in vague and difficult terms, not even telling you what to do.”

Ariaba stared at the bloodstains that stained the eye sockets of his skull.

“Do you know anything? If you do, please tell me. I’m not really trying to scold you, but I’m thinking about converting after listening to it and if it’s really good, I’m thinking about it.”

Of course, the skull, on which flesh had been carefully spread, could not move.

Still, Ariaba asked questions again and again.

What miracles does Lux Stella perform that make her so loyal? Has she ever performed a visible miracle? Is it true that she never accepts sacrifices?

It was a long time after this ridiculous barrage of questions that I stopped.

The warrior of the tribe lifted the fur tent with a pitiful look in his eyes.

“Chief, let’s stop this plague.”

“Oh, I said I’d like to speak before I give it all to my gods.”

“What kind of great warrior are you, carrying around all that flesh and bones? Why are you holding a reed can that is meant to be offered to the gods?”

“Also, the stars in outer space are gods. What’s the harm in knowing that? Who knows? There might be some kind of ritual of offering that we don’t know about.”

Ariaba boasted that he had come up with a mysterious answer that would put Jusolsa to shame, but the warrior in front of him only frowned with arrogance.

“The believers in aliens know that the so-called sorcerers will not say a word even if they cause a plague.”

“Hey, who would say anything if you just cut off his neck and do that? You have to be careful not to rot, and treat him with proper respect for a warrior, then I’ll feel like answering.”

“Well, the sorcerers say that it’s because the soul has already left. Should I tell the chieftain that?”

“Ugh… If everything had gone as the sorcerers said, we would have already been living in this land! You’re just being thoughtless!”

Ariaba sighed, pounding his chest.

No matter how great the sorcerers are, in the end they are just old men rotting away in that harsh land.

They are a group of people who pretend to be great while spouting off stories and rumors they have heard.

Rather than just believing what those smart-alecks say and doing nothing, I will seek a new path for a hopeful future for the tribe.

Ariaba, who had made up his mind like this, respectfully treated the head of the warrior he had personally decapitated and continued to ask about Lux Stella.

However, the warrior in front of him waved his hand as if he was not interested in this important matter.

“That’s enough. We’ve caught all the land thieves here, so everyone is screaming that there’s nothing left to do.”

“Already? No, well… I said I wanted it to happen quickly…”

“Is it still a plague?”

“I usually tell them to do it in moderation, but they used to suck my ribs so hard that it made me cry all over again.”

Ariaba also trembled and put the knight’s skull into a leather bag.

This is because, as a chieftain leading warriors, he had guessed the situation in his own way.

Ariaba gathered his thoughts as he watched the warrior in front of him throw out a few small jokes.

‘They may be burning with fighting spirit right now, but they have already been defeated by the apostates. If they lose their momentum, they will easily become frightened and run away.’

It’s not for nothing that the Silver Wolf Cloak leading this great invasion trusts Ariava.

His true value, hidden by his frivolous speech, muscular physique, and twin axes, was none other than his cunning.

Ariaba was smiling broadly and exchanging empty words, while looking around the noisy crowd and making a cool judgment.

‘It would be nice if these guys could be taught to think that they are beasts that hunt their prey. They are still more interested in killing than in taking sacrifices to somehow restore their wounded pride…’

A beast that has lost its claws will begin to shrink without even realizing it.

Ariaba was most wary of this.

The most important thing in a warrior’s fight is momentum.

Moreover, to fight against a land-based army that had developed to focus on group warfare and anticipated a clash between large-scale armies, more ships were needed than usual.

Other elements, especially fluid and abrupt formation changes, were unfamiliar and cumbersome concepts to most warriors.

‘…It’s not like we can just not offer sacrifices. We can’t gain confidence just because we killed a few hundred of the Land Guardian soldiers who were starving to death. But there are too many Land Guardians to just throw them into a place where they’re all gathered, and it’s questionable whether these bastards can hold out.’

Ariaba’s agony led to a grand plan he had drawn up.

‘I’ve heard that the land keeper guys are fighting each other, but can you believe it? No matter how I look at it, it seems like they’re waiting for us to stop moving…’

The result of gathering the scattered remnants was roughly 2,000.

The ground keeper army will send the vanguard to tie them down, and the moment they join the main force, they will be crushed in an instant.

There is only one way to overcome this terrible numerical disadvantage.

‘We need a place and time to perform the ritual and sacrifice to the Thunder God.’

Finally, Ariaba came to a conclusion.

A warrior, his lips stained with the foam of the plundered beer, approached, supported by his comrades.

“Oh my.”

“what?”

“Oh my gosh~.”

“Tsk. Why are you dragging out your words like that?”

“Oh my… my heart hurts…”

“Oh, shit.”

It may be a pitiful sight, but it’s better than being entangled in the pain of defeat and groaning.

Ariaba pouted and glared at the drunkard.

Then the drunken warrior laughed heartily and wiped the foam from his beard.

“Looking at those dead ground keeper’s… oh my! My heart aches…”

Suddenly.

My heart felt like it was falling out of my chest.

Could it be that he was so influenced by the church’s ideology and doctrines that he began to feel compassion for the worthless without even realizing it?

When Ariaba thought about the axe handle on his waist.

“If I gave all of that, I could brag and call myself a great warrior… But my heart aches because I have to just throw it away and leave…”

The one whose face actually turned pale was the other warrior who was supporting the drunkard.

He hurriedly defended himself, hitting the drunkard with the palm of his hand.

“Chief, this guy almost died once, and now he’s trying to gain the protection of the god of war. Please show mercy.”

“No, no, isn’t the desire to improve a virtue necessary for a warrior? That’s possible.”

Of course, that didn’t happen.

The drunkard in front of me may be drunk, but he has not lost his rational and efficient ideas that he has honed through constant effort to prove himself in a harsh environment.

Two warriors passed by, nodding their heads repeatedly.

No matter how you look at it, it’s just something trivial that happened while drunk.

But it was enough to stir Ariaba’s thoughts.

‘They are the ones who disappointed the gods with their poor skills and miserable defeats. This is no good. I need to help them offer a worthy sacrifice again so that they can be reborn as great warriors.’

A sacrifice is needed.

A sacrifice that will awaken the instincts of a beast that has forgotten who it is.

It was two days later that the shocking information reached Ariaba.

July 4, 1216.

Rumors reached Ariava that the landowners who were stuck in my city had designated a separate place to house the refugees instead of accepting them.

The gist of the rumor was simple.

We will build a new settlement for refugees on a plain a short distance from the city.

Ariaba inferred several circumstances from this rumor.

‘It must be a burden to move that many numbers at once. I guess they’re just trying to hold out until they get tired and fall over.’

There are two main responses of landowners to plunder.

Either move a special force to pursue them, or simply ignore them until the raiders are sufficiently satisfied.

The method the landowners chose this time was the second.

The moment I realized that fact, and the moment I heard the name of the plain that had been chosen to accept the refugees.

Ariava shouted at the warriors lying in the shadows amidst the rubble of the ruins.

“Everyone, get up! This time it’s the sacrifices. I found the place where the sacrifices are gathered!”

Sacrifice.

The warriors who had been rolling around, yawning at these two syllables, also opened their eyes wide.

“What? A sacrifice?”

“Hahahaha! I’ve already figured out which god I should offer it to!”

The warriors were packing their bags with their eyes sparkling, their weary appearance nowhere to be seen.

Some of them quickly finished cleaning their weapons and stood up.

Among them, there were some who laughed ferociously as if they had regained their beastly instincts.

“So. Where are you going?”

Ariaba looked at the warriors who had regained their fighting spirit and laughed together.

“The Plains of the Unbelievers.”

***

As time passed, the crowd heading towards the sighs of St. Illenius grew into three large groups.

A group of refugees, estimated at 3,000, who were rejected by Phenolium and were forced to head to the Sighs of Saint Illenius.

An estimated 2,000 Ariaba warriors are moving to target refugees who are not properly equipped for defense.

And the 106 Terveers and knights who set out to rescue the refugees, even at the risk of disobeying orders.

“One of the heralds never returned.”

– A captain leading a pursuit force of 800 men organized under the pretext of chasing down deserted knights.

Bishop Narva closed his eyes tightly as soon as he heard the news from the messenger while on his horse.

“I will tell Bishop Penrad about the merit. If the family moves to Powis, I will give them the land owned by the church free of charge.”

The path of loving and hating generals was abandoned early on when he felt the limits of his abilities.

“The pagans will wait until people gather. Sir Terveer will take advantage of that gap.”

And knowing what defeat brings.

I opened my eyes again, knowing that nothing can be noble without victory.

Narva gripped the reins with a determined look in his eyes and spoke to the soldiers who were listening silently.

“We will join you without haste, but well prepared.”

Episode 161