UCPA Chapter 10: Sir Kimplin

Chapter 10: Sir Kimplin

Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations

Editor: PlumSauce

 

The corgi man was enthusiastic and talkative but extremely long-winded, often digressing. It took a while for Coraci to understand the entire story, and by this time, the husky had fallen asleep, curled up on the couch.

The “Mr. Burton” they talked about was indeed a bloodkin, and now he was in a very bad state. He had not stepped outside of the house for many years, was also on a hunger strike, was taciturn and spoke very little, and would suddenly start bawling or sleep for several days… The owner of the two dogs, “Sir Kimplin,” seemed to wear a velvet dress suit and carry a sword. Coraci and John thought that perhaps he was an older bloodkin.

The two dogs ate their fill and began to sleep in place, Coraci tried to wake them up and continue asking questions; but even if they woke up, they were just babbling. Coraci had to give up for the time being.

“We should definitely check it out,” Coraci said. “The Association has never registered dark creatures at that address before. We need to make contact.”

“Is there any danger?” John asked.

“You’re a bloodkin yourself!”

“It’s because I am,” John said seriously. “What if they have violent personalities…”

Coraci pointed to the two sleeping Clade dogs. “Look, would a ferocious bloodkin raise these things?”

John thought about it and it did seem to make sense.

“And they don’t seem to have gotten into any trouble,” Coraci said. “There’s never been a suspected case of bloodkin committing murder in this city or the surrounding area since I started. According to the corgi, his ‘owners’ have been living there for a long time, which at least shows that those two are law-abiding.”

Coraci asked John if he wanted to stay here for the night, and John refused. He was used to sleeping in basements, but Coraci’s basement was completely filled to the brim. Coraci asked Mr. Wu Jiu to drive John home, which gave John the illusion that he was working as his boss’s secretary.

They made an appointment to meet after dusk and let the two dog men take them to find Sir Kimplin and Mr. Burton.

Coraci slept past 1:00 p.m. When he got up, he found the two Clade dogs in dog form again, playing ball toss with Ms. Hai Jiu in the yard. The Clade dogs could not turn into people during the day, so the furnace spirit staying at Coraci’s home could now pet them to its heart’s delight.

After lunch, Coraci was in the study simultaneously writing a novel while manning the Association’s phones, answering calls and offering advice or help. Hai Jiu and Wu Jiu were ethereal beings who didn’t need to eat and couldn’t taste food. However, they could make delicious meals and fine snacks, and even browse for new nutritious recipes online.

Before sunset, the specters finished preparing dinner. Coraci and his furnace spirit guest dined together, and the two dogs were given special canned dog food.

Around 6:30 p.m. John arrived. When Coraci saw him, he let out a low “Wow…” because John had changed out of his shirt, jacket and jeans and was dressed in a suit, kind of like a young man going to his first interview with a big company.

“Are you dressed so formally because you’re likely to meet older members of your kind?” Coraci asked.

John scratched his head a little awkwardly, “No, it’s just that… I’m also more or less representing the Association. I have to be formal…” In fact, Coraci was right — it was because of the possibility of meeting older bloodkin that he had dressed so formally.

Today, as usual, Mr. Wu Jiu drove, with John in the passenger seat and Coraci and the two dogs in the back seat.

Sir Kimplin’s residence and Coraci’s house were on opposite ends of the city. The car drove for more than three hours, night had fallen, and the two dogs had turned into naked men.

Coraci took out the long robes that had been prepared earlier and asked them to put it on so they could help find the way. The husky and corgi each insisted on a different direction. With the help of the phone’s GPS, they eventually reached a basic agreement.

The car turned off the highway exit and drove into an area flanked by either undeveloped meadows or orchards. It was even more remote than Coraci’s house, with the road becoming narrower and narrower, occasionally disappearing into the woods.

“We’re almost home! I know this place!” the corgi man called out.

“I know it too!” The husky man poked his head out the window.

Coraci was about to remind him to put his head back in when he suddenly sensed something was wrong.

The woods and underbrush beside the road were very “clean,” without any small demons or spirits. With Eyes of Truth, Coraci often saw these; they were mostly harmless and had a low sense of existence. Now, there was nothing of the sort in the vast countryside outside the window. However, the smell of the undead was in the air.

The corgi man squeezed in next to the husky man, both pressing their faces to the window. If they were not in human form, they would be wagging their tails right now. The flame in Mr. Wu Jiu’s eyes twitched slightly. Coraci was blocked by the two dog men and couldn’t see into the distance.

“What’s that?!” John pointed in shock in the direction the dog people were looking.

The car slowed to a stop and the dog men tumbled out impatiently when the door opened. Deep in the woods was a dim mass of shadows that looked very tall. Coraci, who had Eyes of Truth but whose eyes themselves had poor vision, could only see a blur.

“What’s that…” Coraci struggled to distinguish its outline, “It looks like a centaur.”

John’s bloodkin vision, on the other hand, was much better, and he also saw a man and horse, but… It wasn’t a centaur — 

“It’s a rider…” He clenched his fists. If he weren’t a vampire, he would have broken out in a cold sweat. “His horse doesn’t have a head… and he himself has no head! Oh my god! The Headless Horseman!”

Coraci was stunned as he carefully pieced together what it was when what looked suspiciously like a headless knight started running this way! The horse walked slowly at first and then changed to a trot.

“It’s coming!!!” John pulled out his cell phone.

“What are you doing with your phone?” Coraci asked.

“I saved Miss Liz’s phone number. Shouldn’t we call the hunters? Headless knight! That’s a headless knight! A headless knight!!! There’s no head…”

“Calm down!” Coraci looked at him helplessly and reached out to squeeze his shoulder.

Coraci said to him, “John, you have to remember: first and foremost, you’re a staff member of the Association. Your duty is to guard against dark creatures and supernatural species — not fear them. Secondly, you are a bloodkin. The average person would be scared to death if they ran into you. You are basically as scary as the headless knight!”

John looked warily at the knight, who slowed down as he neared, calmed down and nodded. “Mn, you’re right. I have to be professional. The main thing is… They have swords. And horses. They can charge over. And they can cut off heads…”

Just in the middle of speaking, the headless knight stopped. He dismounted a short distance from the car and reached out to hug the two Clade dogs that ran up to him.

“Sir Kimplin, we’re home! Sir Kimplin, we want to play with Burton!”

“We’re home! The kind humans sent us back!”

The corgi man and husky man rubbed against him, nuzzled him, and circled around him excitedly.

The headless knight obviously had no head. Even without a head, he looked taller than the average human, probably more than seven feet tall if he had a head. He wore rusty armor, iron gloves, and a canvas bag with an environmental logo over one shoulder, which contained…

“Is that the head…?” John narrowed his eyes.

Before Coraci could answer, the headless knight picked up the canvas bag and lifted it up and down.

“What’s he doing?” John asked.

Coraci replied in a whisper, “He’s ‘nodding’.”

John was silent for nearly a minute, not really knowing what to say, his mind bouncing between two thoughts…What do I say when I see my ancestors? and If there is no head on the neck, there is no need to nod!

While the vampire was dumbstruck, Coraci had already assumed a polite and professional posture and took the initiative to greet the headless knight. He explained that he came from the Unthreatening Creature Protection Association, and kept addressing the knight as “Sir.” Perhaps this knight was an ordained nobleman in olden times.

The Clade dogs continuously complimented Coraci. The fast-talking corgi man told the story from how they got lost and escaped from the shelter to when Coraci gave them chicken breasts, while the knight gently stroked the Clade dog’s hair and took a few steps toward the car.

His actions made John a little uneasy. So John asked Coraci with his eyes whether they should leave. That’s when an even more shocking thing happened: the head in the canvas bag spoke!

It only said one short sentence. “I will not hurt you so please come closer as I have something to say to you.”

The rider’s voice did not sound eerie or frightening, and was even quite gentle. After saying this, he fell silent. Then, he reached into his canvas bag and pulled out… an iPhone in a colorful case.

John looked at the scene like he was looking at a crucifix. Coraci immediately understood what the knight meant.

When Coraci prepared to walk over, John wanted to stop him. Coraci said, “Don’t worry, he’s not playing tricks. If I don’t walk over there, I can’t see the words on the phone.” Seeing that John still looked confused, Coraci further explained, “Do you remember what the legend says? In each night outing, the headless knight can only say one sentence.”

“One sentence? Oh, yes, I remember.” John nodded and stayed close to Coraci. He remembered that once his mother had told a similar legend. There were many versions of the story of the headless knights. Some say that their heads were completely lost, with only empty helmets on their shoulders, and others say that they held their heads under their armpits.

It was said that they would ride out at night on black horses with blood-red eyes. Each time they went out, they could only say one sentence (John always wondered if the head was under the armpit; but if there was no head at all, how did they talk…) In this one sentence, they usually state someone’s name, and thereby reap their souls, or say a prophecy or curse.

The headless knight Sir Kimplin rapidly typed a line on his iPhone and held it out to Coraci first: “Thank you for your help. Mister, you are not afraid of my appearance and willing to approach me — I want to especially thank you once again. I can only speak one sentence each night I go out. Now that I’ve finished speaking, I can only type.” Confirming that Coraci had finished reading, he typed the next line and turned to John. “And this gentleman, if I’m not mistaken, you are a bloodkin.”

John nodded as Sir Kimplin continued typing: “I won’t beat around the bush. In fact, I would like to ask a favor from you; my dear friend is also a bloodkin and he needs help.”

“From what your dogs say, that bloodkin gentleman is ‘dying’?” Coraci asked.

“Yes,” the rider replied on his cell phone. “With all due respect, could the two of you please return to the car? The warhorse will take you both to my residence. Afterward I can go over the details with you. I’ll be able to speak directly when I get home–typing is a real pain in the ass.”

Before preparing to get into the car, John was momentarily curious. “Sir, you… Is it true that you can only speak one sentence per night? How long is a sentence?”

“I’m not really sure of the exact length. I think it’s probably no more than 140 letters.” The knight held up his phone.

Could this be the origin of Twitter?! the Association’s new partner duo thought in unison.

 

From The Unthreatening Creature Protection Association’s Guide to Unscientific Monsters:

Oath of Vengeance

The Oath of Vengeance is a general classification for certain undead — humans who die harboring hatred or unfulfilled vows. Not every eligible human becomes one. They share a distinctive feature: flames flicker in the eye sockets where their eyes should be.

The three most commonly recorded categories are:

Mourning Singers: Witches executed during witch hunts. (Note: Specifically witches, not enchantresses or innocent women. The definition of witch is described later.)

Headless Knights: Knights decapitated on the battlefield. The most powerful are those whose horse and rider were both beheaded (e.g., Sir Kimplin). Their lingering hatred drives them to seek their missing heads and revenge. They may lose rationality for extended periods, relentlessly pursuing these goals. Finding the head restores their sanity.

Headless knights often have a base — an old estate or tomb. They can only roam at night and may speak only one sentence during their nightly outing. The sentence’s length varies (Sir Kimplin claims it must be under 140 letters, possibly this was the inspiration for Twitter). Knights usually use this sentence to recite a name, after which they hunt down their target until they reap that soul. Even headless knights can speak names — this is a magical ability.

(Note: Only battlefield decapitations create headless knights; those beheaded by legal execution typically do not transform.)

Doomcaliber Knights: Knights who die with strong faith yet fail to fulfill a vow may become Doomcaliber knights. The heads of these knights are intact. They endlessly strive to complete their mortal wishes, fulfilling their oaths even at the cost of harming anything in their path.

Doomcaliber knights share a trait with banshees: a fear-inducing aura. Unlike banshees, they can move about during the day, albeit slowly and with limits to their abilities. At night, they move unhindered.

 

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