Swiss Arms 21 (Patreon)

Swiss Arms
Chapter 21

-VB-

Deacon Benjamin glanced at the heavy bear fur cloaked man wielding a sword that would have most men-at-arms balking to carry into a skirmish, never mind a battlefield.

But that was what this man did if the shuddering murmurs from one of the man-at-arms was to go by.

“You are sure?” Benjamin asked as he looked ahead at the man leading them forward towards the village of St. Peters.

“Yes, father,” the old man with graying beard grimaced. “He’s the reason why the bishop lost.”

“... But he is just one man.”

“A man does not throw a spear like an archer launches an arrow, father. You can ask any other who survived the ordeals of recent times and they will know him.”

Benjamin still felt skeptical. After all, he had heard of rumors about the man. The bear fur cloaked mercenary with a metal mask, not unlike a knight, who killed dozens of men by himself.

“Dozens?” the old man-at-arms - Markus - grunted. “Yeah. He killed dozens. Five dozens at the least. That man over there was walking atop corpses because he couldn’t find the ground beneath them. Not that it mattered because the ground itself was muddy with blood when he was done.”

The others in the group glanced at the mercenary as they followed him.

“... Wait, isn’t it a mistake to follow him right now? He could be leading us into an ambush.”

“He could,” Benjamin nodded. “But I have a feeling that it isn’t.”

Half of his guards grimaced.

“Father, it isn’t safe,” the leader of the men-at-arms with him spoke up. “We won’t be able to defend you. We can’t trust him.”

“Then trust me. I will tell you as soon as I believe we must leave.”

-VB-

I picked at my ear.

They kept whispering to themselves behind me.

Probably talking about how they were going to jump me.

Whatever. It wasn’t like they could actually do anything against me. What I was worried about was how it would affect the village.

My plans and musings were interrupted when the deacon walked up to me so that he walked beside me.

“Yes?” I asked him.

“... I am curious as to why a mercenary such as yourself pledged to defend the people of this valley. I certainly don’t believe you are threatening them to pay you for it…”

“I’m not,” I replied with a shrug. “I live over at Fluela.”

“You mean the pass?”

“Kind of. I built myself a fort there right where Fluela connects to Landwasser valley. Actually, I didn’t mean to build a fort. I just had a small workshop, some traps for fishes, and a three-floor tower where I did everything a man does,” I explained. “But then the Baron of Vaz came around, I hired myself out as a mercenary, and … yeah, things kind of escalated from there. The next thing I know, the entire region’s gone down the shitter, and neighboring lords are attacking everyone. Toggenburg is still attacking the bishop, right?”

The deacon looked surprised.

“You … are well aware of the situation.”

“Of course. I had to fucking kill the Count of Zernez and Sax-Misox. Kill them both with my own hands, I did.”

“Y-You did?”

“The first tried to take over my home and neighbors. As if I was going to stand by and do nothing!”

“... That’s a virtuous sentiment.”

“Thanks. And then … well, winter was coming. I actually went over to Zernez to raid their supply of food, because they attack me, but the Count of Sax-Misox was attacking them at the time, so I went and made a deal with their young lord: I fuck up the Sax-Misox and they give me all of the food I demand.”

“I find it hard to believe that you did that all by yourself.”

I paused and looked at him. He was kind of short so I had to look down.

“Umm, no? When Zernez came to attack, the villagers came to my wooden fort to help me. I’d built that wall for a different reason, but it served its purpose just fine.”

“And your attack on Zernez?”

“Ah. Well, I asked for some volunteers, and I might have had a dozen or two volunteers.”

“Less than fifty men against a count and his army?”

I snorted.

“He sent all of his men after Zernez’s fort on the hilltop. I don’t know why he did that, but he did. Maybe he was impatient? Whatever the reason, he had very few defenders. So I came up from behind and killed him and whoever else I needed to chop up.”

Very little bloodshed. I was still very proud of that as well as proud of keeping my men from becoming … not good people.

“I see. From what I heard about you, I expected a brute.”

I snorted. “I am a brute, only that I am a brute by my might and not my mannerism.”

To make a point, I grabbed at the branch of a tree I was passing under. The branch in question was too thick for my fingers to completely encircle it.

The tree cracked as I snapped the branch off from its trunk and then tossed it aside.

“See?”

Deacon looked at me and then the branch now slowly leaving his peripheral vision as we continued our walk towards St. Peters without stopping.

“... I see.”

I chuckled. “So. I told you about myself, somewhat. Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

He took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. “I … was born in Zurich.”

“Oh, the city… um… it’s northwest of us, right? Very close to the Swabian lands.”

“It is,” he nodded with surprise. “You are well learned for someone native to this region.”

“Ah, well. I guess.”

“And modest.”

“I don’t like bragging about knowing a few things. I will brag about my wooden fort spanning the width of the entire valley bottom - which should be about as wide as this valley - but I won’t brag about simple geographical knowledge.”

“Humble.”

“No, the more you learn about everything, the more you realize how much you don’t know.”

He smiled for the first time. “I agree.” He paused before continuing. “As I said, I was born in Zurich and grew up as the third son and fifth child of a stonemason. I was told by my parents that I was always a curious child, so they offered to have me learn at the monasteries. I feel that it’s the best decision they could have made for me.”

Jesus. The fifth child of a stonemason? Those guys don’t make a lot of money. His parents might have given him up because they couldn’t feed him.

“I learned under priests and deacons, and I myself chose to become a priest because I felt that, as a priest, I could help others as I have been helped,” he continued. “I would also certainly teach those I reach out to about God and His message. Not the one bigger monasteries and cathedrals like to teach, about tithe’s importance and the like, not because they like to but because of mortal necessities, but about how God loves all of his children, regardless of the people they are from. How we are all saved not by what we do but because He offered His salvation for his love for us.”

“Hmm? Tell me more.”

He looked happy about that.

“Well, first off, I have to tell you that I am not a great theologian. Perhaps you can meet my mentor for that, but I do have the basics down. I would like to ask you a question: can you save yourself?”

On the surface, the question was simple but it could be answered in many ways. What is asked was not the strength or endurance of a person that will save a person in a physical crisis but the will to save oneself from oneself. From lust, from greed, from the excesses of the world.

“... No,” I replied. “If I truly was without peer in my power, then I know that I would … do many things I will come to regret.”

“Then you are more honest than the majority of people I have met.”

I grunted. “A liar eventually lies to themselves, and from there, there is only regression, degradation, and death.”

“I believe similarly as well, yes. Now, if you and I cannot save ourselves on our own, then could we even declare that we can save our souls? That doing good can save us? No, we are saved because God himself saved us through the death of his son, Lord Christ. We have already been saved. It is just up to us to not damn ourselves.”

I glanced at the men-at-arms far behind us. So far, the deacon had kept his voice down.

“... You know what you’re saying is not what the church preaches, right?”

Indulgences could be bought, and it was what some ordained priests and bishops would say.

But then again, there was someone like that everywhere in every era and in every nook and cranny of the world.

He hardened himself as he responded to me. “But it is what I believe must be told. The … excesses of the church have become too much. Many churches have strayed from what we should do. What the original church did.”

“Nah.”

“...I’m sorry?”

“Maybe the original disciples were like that, but the moment the church brought in the power of Constantine to pass judgment among themselves, the church became intricately intertwined with politics. The church and the state are inseparable because the church itself bound itself to the state, which means that just as the virtues that God desires for us can flow from the church to the state, the state’s need for control and excess can also flow to the church.”

“... You are indeed well learned.”

“I’m just repeating what a few malcontents have told me before.” In my past life, I did not say.

He smiled. “I think you are a good man.”

“Thanks.”

“Which is good, because I told my men to stay back in case you decided to kill me.”

I stopped and slowly turned to look at him.

“... Deacon Benjamin, you have big balls.”

He laughed.

Damn. He has bigger balls than I do.