Chapter 122 - Hey, You Brats Whose Dicks Haven't Even Finished Growing!

“Something seems to have changed again in the past few days, brother.” That was Audin, the master of a devilish tongue hidden behind an unassuming smile. He was forever telling Encrid to stop training, that he could rest, only to hound him mercilessly if he actually did. No, he probably wouldn't even go after a rat that viciously. Encrid, of course, found that quite satisfying. Where did the greed within his heart reach its branches? Toward learning, toward taking another step forward. Instruction like this was always welcome. Beside the hulking Audin, who had walked out into the morning mist, Encrid stood with his feet shoulder-width apart, slowly squatting and rising to put his thigh muscles under load. Audin abruptly reached toward him. Encrid reflexively blocked the hand.

TAP! TAP!

Wrestling, unarmed combat—or, in Balaf's style, sometimes called fighting techniques. The hand he had knocked away changed angles again and again, targeting his body. Encrid caught the hand reaching for his shoulder, pushed it, twisted it, and blocked it with his shoulder, only for a foot to come in. When he knocked that aside, a huge palm filled his vision again, shoving as though to crush him beneath Audin's entire body. Locked against him, Audin spoke.

“You've improved a great deal.” Encrid had heard that at the rear camp, too. His technique had improved thanks to Pin, who had made Ail Karaz-style unarmed combat her own, but he still couldn't match Audin. Their height, build, and even muscle density were different to begin with. Audin was far stronger, with explosive speed that belied his massive frame. At some point, Audin's hand slipped in from an angle Encrid couldn't see and seized the back of his neck. When Audin hauled him forward with brute strength, he could do nothing to resist. At close quarters, within wrestling and unarmed-combat range, even size was a weapon. Don't grapple with someone bigger than you. Audin had told him that time and again while teaching him wrestling. Encrid had asked, in turn, how to overcome a difference in size.

[“With superior technique. So what must you do?”]

What else? Train his ass off. He had heard those words while being twisted and struck over and over on the bed. Having already pinned him, Audin began something like a song in his deep voice.

“The Lord has spoken, and He has said: snap their joints.” Surely God wouldn't say anything like that. Naturally, it was a joke. Audin held down the back of his neck and one shoulder without applying any more force. Of course, simply staying like this was painful enough. 'I sensed it coming.'

His reaction had been slow. There were probably several reasons, his injuries among them. Pain slowed a person's reactions. “If you take the field, you'll fight again, won't you, Brother Platoon Commander?” Did that even need asking? Of course he would. His right wrist was a nuisance, but it wasn't completely unusable. Besides, these men were the reason he had been summoned here. If battle broke out, he would naturally take the field and fight again. “You cannot manage it in this condition, brother,” Audin said, still holding him down. His right shoulder had been cut, his left forearm stabbed. His right wrist was still splinted, and bruises covered his body. Jaxon's ointment had long since run out, leaving him with nothing but mashed herbs applied to his wounds. With how often he got injured, there was no way the ointment would last. There hadn't been much of it to begin with. “How long are you planning to keep me like this?” What was he doing? After a pin, they always reviewed the spar. It was time for Audin to release him and begin that process, but his powerful grip hadn't loosened. “Brother Platoon Commander.”

Audin addressed him without releasing him. Forced to remain half bent over, Encrid answered.

“What?” The thick dawn mist obscured their surroundings. You had to come within a few paces to make out another person's face. A sentry stood off to one side, but after glancing their way at first, he had now lost all interest. Taking stock of their surroundings, Audin made his decision and acted.

FSSSH. Encrid heard a sound unlike anything he had ever heard before. It felt as though it struck directly into his body rather than reaching his ears. Then warmth seemed to seep into him, warmth seldom felt beside a misty river, and rarer still at this hour before sunrise. Afternoon sunlight. The feeling of sitting at leisure with a book. Or something that made it the perfect time for a nap. How could he describe it? Serenity? Whatever it was, it permeated his entire body. Serenity, warmth, comfort, and a faint tingling that blossomed from his wounds—all passed through him in a brief moment. It hadn't taken long. Only then did Audin's strong hand release his neck. Encrid raised his head to look at him. The religious nut in his squad. That was what he had once called him. Audin seemed as devout as any priest, and priests who believed in God sometimes performed wonders, or miracles. People called those miracles divine power. “This...”

“No. You will say nothing, brother. And you will tell no one. Swear before the Lord that you will.” Encrid looked into Audin's eyes. Light lingered within those hazy, pale-yellow eyes. Light—something like radiance—seemed to dwell there. That was how it looked to Encrid. “Please swear it.”

“I will.” Audin turned away without another word.

“The river's mist, too, is a blessing of the Lord.”

Moving aside, he knelt and began his morning prayers. Well, now. Encrid scratched his head a few times.

'What makes them trust me so much?' Sometimes he wondered why his platoon members went this far for him. Did he look that pitiful? Did watching him struggle make them feel wistful or something? He didn't know. His curiosity soon faded. What did it matter? Audin Pumley. No one knew he wielded divine power. Using it might itself be bound up in some religious precept. One thing was certain, though it was only a feeling: Audin had taken a risk. “Lord, forgive me.”

Judging by the opening of that prayer, he seemed to be right.

'You didn't need to go this far.' Still, he couldn't give back what he had received. Encrid unwrapped his wrist and flexed it a few times. Judging from all his experience being battered and injured...

'A day or two.'

Then he should be able to use his wrist without difficulty. The other wounds hidden beneath his bandages seemed much improved as well. Much of the aching pain was gone. “Thank you.”

He spoke to his massive, praying platoon member, but Audin remained absorbed in prayer and gave no answer. 'Lord.'

Amid the smell of damp earth rising all around him was the scent of death that always hung over a tense battlefield. Audin could hardly stand by and watch his Squad Leader. 'Lord, for You are always there.'

He asked his silent master: had what he had just done truly been right? If his use of divine power was discovered, an Inquisitor would come. He had left the religious order under many restrictions. Though it hadn't quite been an oath, he had accepted bindings upon his body amounting to a solemn pledge. Forcing through those bindings to wield a fraction of his divine power had brought pain like an awl boring into his skull. And yet.

'I simply could not stand by, Lord.' A man who burned his own body in the flames of effort was finally being rewarded. Audin couldn't let that flame go out here. Call it a whim if one liked, but he had simply wanted to do it, and so he had. Since meeting Encrid, he had believed that the Lord's word dwelled within him. 'And so I shall follow my heart.'

Audin finished his prayer. Morning sunlight was already falling over them as the mist lifted. Though he had used divine power to restore Encrid's body, he hadn't healed every wound at once. Had he done so, someone sensitive would have detected the divine power he released. The bindings also made it difficult to use any more than this. Still, his Platoon Commander looked far better than before.

“Whew.”

Encrid exhaled and moved, his body looking considerably lighter. God and man. Blessings and curses. Those questions remained unresolved, but at least the sight of his Platoon Commander like this set his heart at ease. His brow furrowed as he endured the pain, yet Audin believed he would not regret what he had done today. It was a premonition, an instinct—and a certainty.

* * *

Morning training was over, and it was time for fresh bandages.

“Big-eyes.”

As Encrid called for Krais, the tent flap fluttered open. “Is this the place?” Green eyes. A petite frame. His superior, whose skill belied her small stature. In other words, one could call her a contributor to the creation of the current Lunatic Platoon. She was the Fairy who had organized them into an Independent Platoon and brought them to the battlefield without Encrid. “I heard you were injured?”

“Yes.” The Company Commander had addressed him the moment she entered, then tossed him something. Encrid caught it as it sailed toward him. A round wooden container—a shallow tub about the same size as the ointment Jaxon had given him. A leaf design was engraved on the lid. It looked like the work of someone with considerable skill. “Company Commander?”

“Apply it. Even a fortune in gold won't buy you Fairy medicine. It's an engagement gift.” Encrid still couldn't get used to the Fairy's jokes. This one was so unexpected that it left him looking blank. She had barged in, tossed him something, and called it an engagement gift? “I like that expression. It suits you.”

With that, the Company Commander turned and left. Had she really come just to give him ointment? “Now I'm genuinely curious, Platoon Commander. What exactly is your secret?”

Krais asked from beside him, having watched the exchange. Equally baffled, Encrid answered.

“I'd like to know myself.” Seriously, why had she suddenly come, tossed him ointment, and left? As the Company Commander said, Fairies had an extraordinary talent for handling medicines like these. From the way she had identified the poison during the assassination attempt in the Medical Barracks, she seemed well versed in pharmacology herself. “It looks better than mine. That irresistible charm does come in handy at times like this.” Jaxon spoke from behind him, casually cleaning and tending to his equipment without even turning his head. Even when he seemed not to be looking, he paid attention to everything around him. That was why he knew the battlefield situation in such detail and would be so sensitive to the atmosphere. “I don't think that's why.”

Encrid shook his head. Wasn't the very fact that she made jokes like that evidence that it wasn't? Rem started snickering beside him.

“Just stop at three kids.”

Crazy bastard. “Platoon Commander, forget all this. Leave the army and open a salon with me.”

Big-eyes went one better. He went on spouting nonsense about how rare such talent was, and how Encrid would be better off cultivating his innate irresistible charm than his late-blooming swordsmanship. Even if he had nothing else to do, Encrid had no desire to live by leeching off noblewomen, so he told Krais, in effect, to shut his mouth.

“Stop talking nonsense and take these bandages off.” Ragna, who had been watching closely until then, spoke.

“So, can we spar?”

Lately, he seemed even more eager than Encrid. “You crazy, lazy bastard. You think a dab of ointment will heal him just like that?”

Rem chided him, but Ragna merely gave a “Hmm” and looked disappointed rather than arguing. Yes, ointment alone probably wouldn't heal him. But ointment wasn't the issue. That morning, he had already received a miracle most people would never even witness unless they were high-ranking nobles. Krais removed his bandages, and Encrid deftly turned his shoulder to hide the wound while applying the ointment himself.

“Let me do that for you,” Krais offered, but Encrid shook his head.

“No need.”

“Tch. Because it's from your sweetheart, is that it?” THUMP! Still seated on the edge of the bed, Encrid stuck out one foot, kicked Krais in the thigh, and carefully spread the ointment over his shoulder. When he did the same to his left forearm, a refreshing coolness spread from the wound. 'Seems like good medicine.'

It felt even more cooling than the ointment Jaxon had given him. Encrid wrapped his bandages again. Now he felt as though he could move reasonably well. He felt fine. Should he swing his sword a few times? It wasn't as though a battle seemed imminent. The two sides were simply glaring at each other in a standoff. Of course, if something went wrong, fighting could break out at any moment. “Boring bastards. If they've decided to fight, they ought to enjoy themselves and keep going until skulls crack.”

Apparently, there hadn't been a large-scale battle in so long that Rem had grown this frustrated. Should he swing his sword? Or should he keep resting? While he was debating it...

BWOOOO. A horn sounded outside. Whistles warned of surprise attacks. Blowing horns on the battlefield was Naurilia's tradition. “The enemy's coming! All troops, assemble! Assemble! Fall in by unit!”

He heard a messenger running among the tents, shouting. “They're back. Crazy fuckers.”

At the announcement, Rem stuck out his lip and grumbled.

“You know what? Those bastards really have nothing better to do, irresistible Platoon Commander.”

“Could you leave off that last nickname?” What on earth was going on? Encrid hastily put on his equipment and was about to leave when Rem spoke.

“Even if a fight breaks out, don't you go joining in. Look after yourself for once. Please.” “I think you should focus solely on recovering until you can spar.”

Ragna added his voice. Audin merely smiled. It was remarkable how a man that size could smile in a way that brought the word benevolence to mind. “Were you planning to fight? You'd have to be mad, in your condition.”

Jaxon was outright scolding him. Really now. Were they treating him like a child left unattended by a river? His platoon members wouldn't actually see him that way. It was more that they wouldn't stand by and watch him get hurt again. Don't even think about getting hurt before our eyes. That was how it sounded. Audin, who had used divine power, and all the rest felt the same. These were his platoon members. Seen this way, the Battalion Commander's decision to summon him had been an excellent one. Whatever else, they did act under his command. 'Though I don't know if you could call this control.'

Encrid still had no confidence that he could make his platoon members do whatever he wanted. Nor did he have any determination to do so. “We're assembling, Platoon Commander!”

It was Andrew's voice outside the tent. He had been on guard duty. Mac and Henri had gone with him, so all three would be together. Hadn't someone said they had deliberately been assigned the same shift? Rem had tormented them so much that the soldier who arranged the duty roster had done them that favor. Just how badly had he harassed them for someone to show that consideration unasked? “Let's go,” Encrid said, rising. Though cut around the shoulder, his leather armor was still sturdy. Over it he wore a gambeson, with a sword on either hip. Hmm. It did feel rather reassuring. Time to watch the battlefield. He was curious what the enemy was up to. Were they issuing endless challenges to duels again? He had heard rank-and-file soldiers kept coming out and demanding one-on-one fights. “I'm sick of that sort of fighting. I wanted to give my axes a good swing for my Platoon Commander, but there's no battle. No battle!”

That was what Rem had complained at length the previous night during the battlefield briefing, despite having avoided the duels because they were a nuisance. They stepped onto the battlefield.

“Hey, you brats whose dicks haven't even finished growing!”

An enemy's voice rang out.