Chapter 103 - Is This Love?

'I'm starting to think the goddess of luck has cursed me.'

As today began anew, Encrid looked up at the sky. The blue moon filled his vision. Dawn had yet to break. He had risen early enough to see the same moon he had looked at before bed.

It certainly was bright. 'Think about it. Doesn't that make sense?'

The ferryman in his dreams went on about walls and whatnot, but whatever the explanation, Encrid kept dying from rotten luck. This time was no different. He had tried time and again to exploit gaps in the troops surrounding him, only for his luck to fail him spectacularly every time. Once, he had spotted an opening, driven his blade into a spearman's instep, and pressed in, only for a mass of earth to come pouring down on his head.

Why did part of the ceiling have to collapse at that exact moment? And why did the falling dirt have to get in his eyes? It had been much the same afterward. He had charged along the wall toward the mage, only for a section that had held firm until then to crumble beneath his planted foot.

Similar strokes of bad luck kept coming. One wolf-man had its heart on the opposite side—some sort of mutant, perhaps. Another time, he had leaned against a tree for a moment's respite in the middle of a fight, only to lose his balance because the tree was rotten and could not support his back. Well, it was hardly the first time luck had failed him. Wasn't his lack of natural talent itself a stroke of bad luck?

'Are you really toying with me, Goddess?'

Still, he wanted to ask. Naturally, no answer came. He had not really wanted one. It was merely a way to remember this new today.

Today, he would begin the day by greeting the goddess. He got up and began conditioning his body with the Isolation Technique. Bending one knee until the other nearly touched the ground, he walked in a low stance.

While he was absorbed in training, the others woke and began stirring. Encrid took the opportunity to stop one of the scouts. "Could you make me something like this? It's for emergency money."

He explained what he wanted: a cloth pouch that would fit inside his sleeve. Better still if it could be secured in place.

These people made ham in their spare time. They had all sorts of tools, so he did not even need to find materials for them. "Sorry? Well, it wouldn't take long. But aren't you leaving first thing this morning?"

"I'd appreciate it if you could finish it before then."

The scout blinked at his request, then nodded.

"Sure, I'll do it. Hey, cover my watch for me."

An obliging fellow. Encrid patted his shoulder in thanks, then finished the rest of his training. Pin came over.

"Giving us a nice view first thing in the morning?"

She was referring to his shirtless sword practice. "Do you know how to use a crossbow?"

"Is that even a question? That's one of a ranger's basic skills."

If he said, "Is that so?" she would ask why he wanted to know. He already knew this, so he answered in advance.

"Just asking."

"... Well, that leaves me with nothing to say." "What do you put under your boots to muffle your footsteps like that?"

"Oh, this? There are a lot of demonic beasts here with sharp hearing."

Pin raised her left hand to point at her ear, then continued.

"So we put several layers of cloth over the soles and cotton inside the boots."

Of course, he was not asking because he did not know. "That sounds useful. I'd like that done to my boots, too."

"It's not hard."

"Torres?"

"You want me to do it, too?"

"She said there are plenty of demonic beasts."

"Though we're hardly likely to run into any of them."

Pin added that caveat, but there was no problem. Two scouts set to work on their boots. "These boots are very carefully made. You can tell someone put a lot of work into them."

"Really?"

One scout was examining Encrid's boots as he spoke. It meant that the shoemaker he had met thanks to the corpse enthusiast in the sewers had made a real effort. It was good to hear. Adding cloth to the soles and lining the insides with cotton took little time at all. His training was finished, and his boots were silent.

"Here."

The pouch he had requested that morning arrived as well. It fastened around his wrist with a drawstring and disappeared neatly inside his sleeve. The stitching was remarkably fine—better work than that booze-loving Squad Leader could manage.

Of course, he had asked this particular scout because he already knew the man was good at it. He had already tried asking everyone in turn. Pin's attempt had been the most horrific. If only she had not volunteered when she had no skill for it.

The thing she had sewn was too ugly to call a pouch and too small to fit even a finger inside. Naturally, it was useless.

["Haha, it's been a while since I last sewed anything."]

There had been a today like that, too. What a difficult start that had been. As he reflected on that, Pin—the woman whose sewing had gifted him such a difficult start on one of his todays—came over and tapped his shoulder.

"Let's get going."

Breakfast was over, and their preparations were complete. Once again, they headed for the Tunnel. 'The seventy-ninth.'

Repeating the number of todays he had lived, Encrid walked briskly. He had traveled this path countless times already, so he did not hesitate. Pin occasionally glanced back. After watching his stride, she tilted her head and asked,

"Did you spend a long time with the scouts?"

"Me?"

"No."

Torres, who had asked, turned his gaze to Encrid.

"No," Encrid answered as he walked.

"Really?" Torres might not know why she was asking, but Encrid knew perfectly well. He already knew what Pin would say if he pressed her.

["Your stride is different. You walk like a ranger."]

That was her answer. What else would he have been doing all that time he spent trailing after her? He had watched her gait and copied it: a ranger's stride, using the cloth beneath his boots to move without a sound. Beyond their idle conversation, Encrid had another question as they walked quietly along the dirt path, with its occasional patches of grass.

"What do we do if enemy soldiers are waiting in the Tunnel?"

It came out of nowhere, but it was a valid question. "Fight them."

Torres answered first, kicking a pebble in front of him as he spoke. It rolled with a click, struck a flat, ocher-colored stone, and bounced away.

Encrid watched the spot it had struck closely and listened. "It's unlikely, but if there are, we run."

Pin answered as though she had been waiting for the question.

"I see."

Encrid gave a noncommittal reply. Then, as they reached the brush-covered mound, he asked again,

"What if our retreat is cut off?" Torres, just stepping onto the mound, looked at him in puzzlement. The mission was simple: get inside and check on the Kitten their side had planted.

They were free to flee if things went wrong, but why keep putting a damper on things before they had even begun? "I'm doing my best to make sure that doesn't happen."

Hearing a similar question twice seemed to bother Pin, too. Her tone stiffened.

"How high and wide is that tunnel?"

"Huh?"

"Are there any side passages if we're blocked in front and behind?"

They had barely taken a few steps from the mound, and the questions kept coming. 'What the hell is wrong with this bastard?'

Torres tilted his head. He had followed along without a word until now. Why start this here?

It could not be fear. A man afraid of merely entering the Tunnel would never charge into the middle of a pack of human-faced hounds. Much less swing his sword at a harpy swooping toward the ground. "Why? Got a bad feeling?"

Torres did not believe in superstition, but he respected Encrid's instincts. There were men like that in the Border Guard, too—men with uncannily good instincts. "That's not it."

They had to go inside anyway. Saying he had a bad feeling would send them down a different path. Encrid answered calmly. Pin looked back at him. Was this bastard trying to pick a fight with her? That was what her expression said.

"Is there something you want to say?"

"I was just wondering what we'd do if enemies showed up." Pin tipped her head to one side, then straightened it again. She felt unsettled, though she did not know why. Was it because this bastard kept finding things to object to? "The Tunnel is a major route for black-market dealers. It isn't a route used by Kitten or our side. That makes it one of the safest ways in right now."

As she explained it to Encrid, Pin reminded herself why she had chosen this route. Torres nodded beside her. He was no ranger, but he had taken part in all manner of missions.

'This is safe enough.'

Pin was right. Encrid nodded. They stepped onto the slope inside the Tunnel and went three or four paces in before he asked yet again,

"If there happen to be armed troops waiting up ahead, are we all dead men?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake."

At last, a curse burst from Pin's lips. However much she pretended not to be nervous, they were entering an enemy city. Why was he saying this shit?

"Don't want to do it? Then sit it out."

Listening to him had made her angry. Encrid shook his head at her outburst.

"That's not it."

"What's wrong with him?"

Her ire turned on Torres for no good reason. Even pleasant words grew tiresome with repetition, and he was choosing only the most irritating things to say. Had he always been like this?

No, he hadn't.

Torres had nothing to say, either. "Let's go."

Pin had stopped in her anger, but now Encrid took the lead instead. Just as she was about to snap at him again, both she and Torres felt something strange. Their gazes fixed on Encrid without either of them realizing it. Why?

A weighty presence—yes, that was what radiated from him. Torres was a special-grade soldier, and Pin's abilities were no less impressive. Both could feel Encrid's presence. "Just a little."

Holding them both in check with his presence, Encrid spoke.

"That's how much more careful I'm asking us to be."

At his measured words, Pin swallowed. What was with this bastard? He had certainly been acting like an ass, so why did he look so damn good now?

A miracle happened to Pin: her mounting irritation abruptly vanished.

'Is this love?' Every one of Pin's scouts agreed that she fell in love easily. Fortunately, that did not make her neglect her duties.

Love was love.

Men were men.

Work was work. Pin admitted it: she had let her guard down a little. Even if Kitten had been caught, it would not expose their whereabouts. Entering the city was dangerous, but she was confident she could get herself out.

That was why she had chosen a "route" she had been saving until now. "All right."

Pin conceded first. She immediately changed her approach and began moving more cautiously.

Torres did the same. He gave Encrid a curious look for a moment, but soon spoke and started walking.

"Of course we should be careful." 'This should do.'

Encrid could feel the change in their attitudes. He had not pestered them for nothing. Nor had he projected that presence without a reason. To slit the throats of those waiting ahead and survive, they needed to create an opening. Meanwhile, they could not afford to leave even the slightest opening themselves.

Elite soldiers armed with long spears and shields had laid the trap, with archers blocking the rear. More than forty altogether.

That was not a number that allowed for mistakes. That was why he had done it: to make them brace themselves properly and avoid any mistakes.

And sure enough, a ranger's caution was nothing like an ordinary soldier's. "That's odd."

Pin had kept her head bent low throughout their torchlit walk. A ranger whose skills could put pathfinders and hunters thoroughly to shame, she had found traces that were indeed odd.

"These footprints are strange."

Yes. That was exactly why Encrid had spent so much breath talking. The enemy had erased their tracks. But they could not hide everything from the eyes of a ranger determined to question her surroundings. Encrid had never intended to force his way through here in a head-on fight. How many times had he repeated today by now?

Those todays had taught him a few things. One was that he did not have to take a direct approach. "Something about our rear bothers me."

No sooner had Pin finished than Encrid delivered his prepared line. It did not require brilliant acting. He had done this several times already.

In truth, he had reached this moment many times before. He simply had to do what needed doing. "There really might be something up ahead," Pin said.

"Shit, what are you saying?"

Torres began looking back and forth, tense. Deciding the time was right, Encrid spoke.

"Let's secure our retreat first."

He meant that they should turn back and clear the way. More precisely, he meant they should fuck up the archers waiting behind them, though naturally neither of these two would know that. Pin and Torres turned their eyes to him.

"If someone cuts off our retreat from behind..."

He did not need to finish.

"Understood. Let's go."

"Is this just a bad day for us?"

Torres and Pin spoke in turn and turned around.