Chapter 145 - Hunting Season

What were these people?

Pin could only blink. She remembered the fight before they had come to this battlefield, when she had fought alongside Encrid and that Border Guard member, Toris or Toros or whatever his name was. It had been fierce. Brutal. She had fought for her life and barely survived. 'If these guys had been there, wouldn't they have wiped the floor with them?'

It certainly seemed that way. The three men in mail were combat experts. All used blunt weapons: a hammer, a morning star, and a long staff tipped with a lump of iron. Every one of them was a difficult opponent. Above all, that equipment did nothing to slow them down. 'If it were me...'

She doubted she could handle even one of the three. They were particularly bad matchups for her. With equipment like that, they looked capable of shrugging off a dagger stab even if she got in close. Judging by the thick gambesons beneath their mail, she would need to drive in at least half a shortsword's blade. Would they give her that sort of opening? And even if they did, what then? Would the man being stabbed just stand and watch? He would bash her head with his hammer or morning star. Then her head would burst, and with her head burst, she would die.

She had no confidence whatsoever. Yet her allies were toying with those three enemies. "Brother, it is time to go."

The religious fanatic, a soldier who invoked the Lord more often than most priests, closed in on the morning-star wielder and punched him in the head. 'Didn't he say he was a master of Balaf-style martial arts?'

There was no sign of that at all. The fanatic simply overpowered his opponent. The soldier swung his morning star as the punch struck his head, and it did hit the fanatic's forearm. But despite his lack of proper armor, it didn't seem to leave so much as a scratch. She would have to check later, but outwardly, at least, he looked unharmed. THUD.

Despite that sound, the fanatic didn't even sway. Not so much as the usual grunt of pain. He simply said what he had to say and did what he had to do. "Go. To the Lord's side."

The man staggered from the punch to his head. Then the fanatic pivoted at the waist, his left foot planted. For an instant, a small whirlwind seemed to form around his huge frame. His knee and hips turned, his upper body balanced, and his foot shot out.

A high kick to the head. The moment that kick struck the enemy's head again...

THUD!

The soldier's eyes popped out. Though the blow had landed on his helmet, his head could not withstand the pressure of the impact. 'Holy shit.'

Pin couldn't close her gaping mouth. The other two were much the same. The axe-wielding lunatic went from anger to cackling.

"What? Think wearing that shit means you can't die?" His opponent wielded the long staff. As the iron-tipped club came down, he reached past its heavy head and caught the shaft just below it in his palm. Then he rushed forward as though pulling it toward him and delivered an axe blow.

Terrifyingly fast. The swinging axe smashed into the man's abdomen. BOOM!

It sounded like a hide drum bursting.

CRRRAK!

The axe blade tore through the mail. Rings broke and shattered at the waist, spraying blood. That wasn't the end of it. The lunatic reversed his body's rotation and swung his extended axe back into the same spot.

RRRIP!

The second blow split the opening in the shattered mail again, cutting more than halfway through the enemy's body from the side. "Grrk!"

Naturally, the man died. Pink intestines tumbled to the ground, blood pouring out with them. The enemy dropped to his knees and sprawled on the ground. The blond, red-eyed soldier, supposedly a habitual slacker, looked more enthusiastic than ever.

CLANG! CLANG!

Twice, he knocked the descending hammer aside with his sword, then drove in a stab. The sequence flowed like water, as though that sword had always been meant to sprout from the enemy soldier's stomach. CRUNCH!

The blade had partly pierced the mail and torn into the cloth armor beneath. As he forced it deeper, his opponent recovered his hammer and brought it down. It came from overhead, out of his sight. Just before the hammer crushed his head, the slacker released the sword buried in the enemy and drew another from his waist.

CLANG.

He swung it upward, knocking the hammer aside. The movement was so quick and unhesitating that even Pin couldn't follow all of it. 'Just how fucking good are these bastards?'

The sword that had deflected the hammer struck the man's helmet. With the flat, not the edge.

CLONK! The enemy dropped his hammer and clutched his head, staggering before losing his balance and falling. The slacker walked over and stood before him, then shoved the sword in his gut harder.

"Don't, don't."

CRRRUNCH. SNAP-SNAP. SHLUNK. How to describe it? Fear surged through Pin, weakening her knees and raising gooseflesh. The slacker kept pushing until the blade pierced the soldier and sank into the ground, then straightened.

Left with only his shield after losing his hammer, the soldier kept shaking his head and gripping the blade being driven into him, struggling until he died in tears. Even as they dispatched those three skilled opponents in no time, there was another surprise. Was there really any reason to be more surprised now? But how could she not be?

Most of the soldiers who had been watching were dead. The cause of death: cuts. At some point, the remaining member had begun slitting the throats of the dumbstruck soldiers. Not with a longsword, either. With a single dagger. 'When did he start doing that?'

Pin spoke, pouring all her astonishment and disbelief into the words.

"What the hell are you people?"

Krais stood right beside her. Wide-eyed, he opened his mouth.

"Good question." Inside, Krais was trying to settle his nerves. Why had he been anxious? They fought so well. The Lunatic Platoon was several times better at fighting than he had expected. He had used Encrid as his benchmark, but they exceeded every expectation. It made him wonder anew. Just how good at fighting were those bastards called knights?

He also offered praise to whoever had first gathered these people into a single unit. 'No, whoever sent the Platoon Commander here is the real genius. That's right.'

Without Encrid to unite them, they might well have become a massive explosion spell set off within their own main army. "Let's burn it, Squad Leader Andrew," Krais told Andrew, who had been assigned to guard him.

"Huh? What? Burn what?" Andrew was as surprised as Pin. His expression had darkened for some reason, then returned to normal. Now he even looked somewhat relieved.

"Let's set it on fire. Stay here much longer and the enemy's main army will come too. Want to fight that?"

No. No, that wouldn't do. They couldn't have that. "Let's get moving."

Mac, Andrew, and Pin began striking flints. The supplies included stacks of hay for the horses. Dry grass, perfect for burning. "Hurry," Krais urged. There was no need to ask why.

"Fuck, they're monsters!"

"Help me!" They hadn't killed every enemy soldier. Once the force was all but annihilated, their side stopped. They couldn't kill them all even if they gave chase.

"Let them go."

Encrid had reached that conclusion before Krais.

"You got it."

Rem's answer was proof that they followed Encrid's orders. Watching his platoon set the fires, Encrid spoke.

"I seem to have some sort of connection with setting things on fire."

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Had he taken a blow to the head during the fight?

"What?"

"Nothing. Just saying. Let's go." Fire rose in the enemy's trap. Spring had come; surely no one needed a bonfire this size. It was simply a fire. A roaring blaze.

As the flames rose, announcing their presence, Encrid and the Lunatic Platoon slipped away like the wind. Pin, who had been guiding them out, told them they only had to go straight now, then drew alongside Audin.

"Hey, what did you say your name was?"

"Audin, Sister."

"Really? Think you could teach me a thing or two later?" An odd competitive urge seemed to have stirred in Pin. Her eyes swept over Audin's arm. Sure enough, not a scratch. This had nothing to do with Balaf-style martial arts. Curiosity and competitiveness mingled into a peculiar gleam in her eyes. Encrid didn't concern himself with what those two did. Instead, he resumed training as he walked.

"You failed to use your dodging sense. You need more practice."

He listened to Jaxon and reflected on his words. "You said you wanted to use two swords? Don't forget. Only when they feel more natural than your own hands will they be of any use."

Ragna offered his assessment too. "Holding off on the Heart of the Superhuman until then was, well, nicely done."

Surprisingly, Rem praised Encrid's personal tactics. Had they impressed him? In truth, Encrid didn't care. "Keep training, brother. Hard knocks are what stay with you."

Audin said this after glancing at Pin and coming over. He was right. Encrid also thought hard knocks were what stayed with you. Though that would have to wait until they returned. He did wonder how much longer they had to keep traveling these ridges. Wasn't it about time to pull out? Though there were still some people they needed to meet first. Sure enough, two days after they smashed through the enemy's trap by force, the platoon had turned toward the main army to evade the enemy's relentless pursuit. They had stopped to rest and were chewing jerky. THWIP!

An arrow struck among Encrid's party. More precisely, it had been aimed at Rem's head, but he dodged with beastlike reflexes, twisting sideways in an instant. He didn't evade it completely: his earlobe tore, scattering droplets of blood. Rem took a chewy bite and grinned around the jerky in his mouth.

"It's that hawk bastard." How to put it? Rem seemed to have been in high spirits constantly of late. Encrid examined the arrow embedded in the ground. Short and sturdy. Different from before. "Looks like they came prepared. I can't sense them," said Pin, the ranger.

The hawk bastard's unit, which had been harassing their rear, had returned to hunt the Lunatic Platoon. Strictly speaking, the enemy had caught their trail. But of course, that was exactly what they had wanted. "This is all right, isn't it?" Pin asked.

Encrid nodded. Everything up to this point was part of Krais's plan, and Encrid had understood it too. The Lunatic Platoon's purpose and objectives had been clear from the start: draw attention, then clean up.

Now it was time for the cleanup.

* * *

While the Lunatic Platoon whittled away at the enemy's troops, Marcus's main army set out for Cross Guard.

Could they take the city with so few troops? Not a chance. But they could cause concern. Meanwhile, some band of skirmishers was attacking Aspen's rear and drawing attention. Aspen had few options. For its commander, in particular, the practical choices were limited. "Cross Guard won't fall. But the disgrace of allowing an attack on the city will remain. We must send reinforcements, if not for this battle, then for the next. You must eliminate the remaining enemy troops along the flanking route."

The Aspen commander deliberated over his staff officer's words. Several scenarios connected in his mind. Attack the city? With so few troops? It wouldn't fall. Surely it wouldn't. But the fact that Cross Guard had been attacked would remain. A strange contest of pride, perhaps. He was already cornered after both the Giant and the spell had failed.

Would he go down as the commander who had surrendered the principality's front yard? 'No. I can't let that happen.'

Even if it didn't fall, it would still have been attacked. People would still call him the commander who had yielded the city. Would he endure that disgrace on his shoulders? Or should he turn this into an opportunity? It would be a lie to say he wasn't torn. Though his deliberations did lean in one direction. The principality's prepared gambits had failed, while Naurilia had pushed deeper than before, expanding its territory. If things settled as they were, the border between the two nations would shift. 'How can I just let that happen?'

What if they swept away the enemy unit on the flanking route and held against the remaining Naurilian forces' attacks? If they could manage that, it might instead give them a chance to strike the enemy's rear by that route. Leaving their position to march on Cross Guard might be the worst possible blunder. He didn't know what lunatic commanded them, but a gamble now? Why bother? They were already winning. Then wasn't this an opportunity? Simply withdrawing instead of holding the flanking route had already opened room for Aspen's detached force to maneuver. "Tss."

The commander sucked air between his teeth out of habit, then spoke.

"Form a force around our fastest units and send it along the flanking route."

The order came with a whistle of air through the wide gap between his front teeth.

"Yes, sir!" The principality soon moved. The adjutant serving as strategist felt a sense of foreboding.

'If this goes wrong...'

It wouldn't end with a shift in their borders. The adjutant wished Abnaire were here. The greatest strategist Aspen had ever produced, the remarkable young man who had already brought Giants and others into the army's fighting strength.

'What a waste. Such a waste.'

All because his origins had ultimately kept him from a position of importance. Of course, it was a pointless concern. In his eyes, Abnaire was a genius. He would look after himself. "Send members of the knight order."

Naurilia had the Scarlet Cloak Knight Order; the principality had the Knight Order of Aspen's Ruling Prince.

The Knight Order of Aspen's Ruling Prince. Its name might lack character, but its skill was another matter. "Send two. No, three."

Had the commander felt the same foreboding as his adjutant? The quality of the troops entering the flanking route rose. So did their numbers. What if the Hawk's Claw unit caught the gnats pestering their rear while the rest advanced with three proto knights? If all went to plan, this might prove the decisive move that reversed their fortunes.

* * *

"Captain, know the difference between a sharpshooter and a hunter?"

Rem asked this just after dodging the arrow. Krais's plan called for taking care of that Hawk's Claw, or Fingernail, or Eyebrow, whatever he was called. That was why they had lured him in. Pin leaving a suitable trail had been enough for bait. "These guys are pretty sharp. We'd better be careful," Pin said.

Even then, Rem kept grinning. Encrid looked blankly at him and asked, "Do I need to know?" "Not really. I just feel like telling you."

Sometimes Rem was more honest than necessary. This was one of those times. He was always talkative, of course. "A sharpshooter shoots people from far away. A hunter does what the name says. Hunts."

And what difference did that make?

"Hunting's more fun than just shooting arrows from a distance. Especially axe hunting. Ah, nothing beats it."

And what of it? As Encrid kept asking with his eyes, Rem said, "Just don't go getting hit by any arrows while I'm gone. I'll be back."

"Where are you going?"

"Hunting. Someone gives you a gift, you've got to return the favor, don't you?" Rem pulled the arrow from the ground as he spoke. It slipped free, and he tucked it at his waist before ambling into the brush. Was it all right to just let him go? It would be. He wouldn't have stepped forward if he weren't confident.

As for the others... "Jaxon?"

He called the name with an unspoken question: might Jaxon care to join Rem for a duet of stealth attacks and ambushes?

"No."

Hmm. Firm. Well, fair enough. Rem would do fine alone. Encrid decided to trust that.

"We should get moving in our own way, shouldn't we?" Rem was the hunter, Hawk's Claw the prey. In turn, the Lunatic Platoon was Hawk's Claw's prey.

Summer was better suited to it, but people enjoyed hunting in spring too. It was fair enough to call this hunting season.