Chapter 15 - Just a Few Words

'I was killed in my sleep?'

Encrid was too dumbfounded even to laugh. 'Am I that oblivious?'

Enough not to notice being stabbed to fucking death in his sleep? No way. If he were that oblivious, he would never have survived this long. He could hardly guess how he had died. Encrid recalled the moments just before falling asleep. Nothing had been out of the ordinary. He had sensed no warning signs. He had fallen asleep and never woken afterward. Had he heard insects in his sleep? Had he slept fitfully?

No. He had slept soundly. Just one more day until he returned to his unit. He had gone to sleep without a care, thinking this was his last chance to rest. And after that?

It felt as though a ghost had bewitched him. But he did not just sit there, dumbstruck. Letting shock freeze his mind would get him killed. It was only the start of another today. Having done this before, Encrid knew what he needed to do and what he needed to consider. There were two things to consider. The first was "how." Whether by slitting his throat or covering his nose and mouth, how could someone kill a man without causing any pain? The second was "why."

'Why me?' He had been killed without even knowing when it happened. This was no amateur's work. If his opponent was an assassin, they were first-rate or better. If it was an enemy soldier...

'They'd have to be even better than a first-rate assassin.' The Medical Barracks were in the rear. An assassin who could sneak all the way here, slit a throat, and leave could slap a knight across the face and still make it back alive and well. Wasn't the answer to "why" already more or less clear? Aside from him, the only people in the barracks were Krang and Vengeance.

'No one that formidable would come for Vengeance.' That left only one answer. Krang. The witless soldier who claimed to have forgotten which unit he belonged to. There was no way someone like that was just a soldier. He had his answer to "why," and set aside "how." He would find out when it happened tonight. Strange, really. He had thought that being killed by the stabbing pervert was hard because of the goddamn pain he suffered with every death. He had thought looking into that sick fuck's eyes was the shittiest feeling of all.

'This is even more fucked up.' He felt filthy. Dying without having the slightest idea what was happening. It felt so utterly foul. Never mind stepping in shit—even rolling around in it wouldn't feel like this. 'This really feels...'

Like absolute shit, didn't it? But that changed nothing, so Encrid put his feelings aside. Instead, he considered what to do and put his thoughts in order. 'I can find out how tonight. As for why, I can assume they came for Krang.'

Then another question occurred to him. Beyond "how" and "why" came "who." Who was the assassin? Assuming it wasn't an enemy soldier: someone who knew where the Medical Barracks were, knew how to conceal themselves, and would be skilled at assassination. An ally who had already confirmed the target and was in a position to approach easily. One person immediately sprang to mind.

'The Company Commander?' It was a reasonable suspicion. Fairies walked silently and moved with stealth and speed. A race perfectly suited to assassination. Besides, his presence here gave her an excuse to come and go. Her visit a few days earlier, wasting time on pointless conversation, made sense if this had been her aim. The pieces fit perfectly. "What are you doing?"

Vengeance asked from beside him. Encrid answered reflexively.

"Thinking." "Thinking? Where the fuck are your manners? Have you actually lost it, you crazy bastard?"

The cut on his thigh must have healed somewhat; Platoon Commander Vengeance rose, limping. "Oh, I thought you were Krang, sir. My mistake."

"You think calling it a mistake makes it all right?"

"I'm sorry."

"You think an apology settles it?" Now he had something to latch onto.

"I'll fetch us some food."

As usual, Encrid turned away as though ignoring Vengeance and stepped outside the tent. Amid Vengeance's furious yelling behind him came another shout.

"None for me!"

Krang had finally woken up. He didn't resent Krang simply because he had died on his account. Yes, he felt like shit, and yes, that made his temper flare. But Krang hadn't killed him. In the end, hadn't he died because he wasn't skilled enough? Either that or his luck was fucking rotten. That was how Encrid saw it. 'If I know it's coming, I won't fall for it.'

The assassin relied on stealth. All he had to do was make a commotion, and nearby allies would come running. That would be enough to catch a cat sneaking in at night. He didn't even need to catch the intruder himself. Before long, he spotted the soldier assigned to the Medical Barracks approaching, rubbing his eyes. He dragged his feet as though everything in the world was a bother. This bastard never changed either. "You've got a platoon commander furious because you're late."

"Because I'm late? Isn't that because you keep teasing him, Squad Leader?" Officially, this soldier was also equivalent to a squad leader. Which made the two of them equal in rank. "I hear you're a lowest-grade soldier. Got a death wish?"

The lazy soldier asked as they walked back together. It was a question stripped of context, but not hard to understand. He wanted to know why Encrid kept picking fights so fearlessly. "Vengeance?"

"He's intermediate-grade." It wasn't just the Cyprus Division. The entire army of the Kingdom of Naurilia divided soldiers into grades. It was effectively a reward system to raise morale. Demonstrate your skill, and you received a corresponding grade—a system where you proved your ability and were given a rank. Encrid had heard each rise in grade also came with a cash reward. He thought it was a useful system in many ways. Lowest, low, intermediate, high, and highest: those five grades also motivated soldiers to train fiercely. Naurilia revered martial prowess, so nearly every commander possessed fighting ability of high grade or better. Knights were excluded from the grades. A knight was simply a knight. They had surpassed human limits and could not be confined within such a system. Thus, a platoon commander would be at least intermediate-grade. Squad leaders were low- or intermediate-grade. Of course, however skilled someone was, they wouldn't be appointed in a way that undermined the chain of command. Platoon commanders and above were selected with some care. But there were always exceptions. Encrid was a lowest-grade soldier, yet he was a squad leader. The squad members under him were at least intermediate-grade. "You're an unusual man."

The soldier said it without much thought, but it left Encrid feeling strange.

'Me?'

All his life, he had only ever been told he was ordinary. Or that he lacked talent. "Two portions should do," Encrid said.

The soldier looked at him and muttered, "Definitely a bit strange," but prepared only two portions. Back at the barracks, Encrid soothed Vengeance a little, ate breakfast, then trained and reviewed his past battle as usual. Krang had left without eating, leaving only Encrid and Vengeance to feed. "Krang told you he'd be going out, I take it?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

The Medical Barracks attendant gave Encrid's question a casual nod, as though it were nothing important. He had marked the Fairy Company Commander as a suspect, but this one was a strong possibility too.

'This soldier can come and go here whenever he likes, can't he?'

There was a night sentry in front of the barracks, but he wouldn't stop the soldier assigned to look after it. 'Let's not jump to conclusions.'

Even if the pieces fit perfectly, reaching a conclusion would make his thinking rigid. Better to keep the possibilities open. Krang didn't return until after lunch. The same day was unfolding. Encrid alone, of course, was doing things differently. "Busy?"

At Encrid's greeting, Krang tilted his head. Then he approached with a faint smile and asked,

"You know something?" What was this out of nowhere?

"What?"

"That's the first time you've spoken to me first." 'Is it?'

Come to think of it, perhaps it was. He hadn't really paid attention.

"I suppose so."

As though it mattered much. Krang chuckled and planted his backside on Encrid's bed. Encrid wasn't particularly curious about who Krang really was. No—he hadn't been. But now that today had begun repeating because of this soldier hiding his identity, he was curious. Just what did the man do to have assassins coming for him? He could gently coax his identity out of him, but this was also someone who had listened earnestly to his dream. Sometimes speaking from the heart was better than asking roundabout questions. Encrid did just that. Sitting beside him, he looked him straight in the eye and asked, "Who are you, really?" Vengeance woke from his doze, saw the pair sitting together, and started to butt in with a remark, only to stop. He too had heard Encrid's question. He was just as curious. Encrid calmly waited for an answer. Krang smiled, but without his usual ease. Keeping that smile on his face, he stared into Encrid's eyes for a while. 'Does he want a staring contest?'

Encrid waited patiently for him to speak. Just as Vengeance ran out of patience and was about to say something, Krang answered. "Hmm. I can't tell you."

"Why?"

"It wouldn't be any fun if I did. And I have promises to keep."

"Is that so?"

"It is."

Encrid nodded at his refusal to reveal himself. Watching from the bed behind them, Vengeance heard this absurd conversation from start to finish. And he wondered what sort of monster-fart nonsense this was. Why ask the question himself, then simply accept that answer? Didn't this mean he did have a hidden identity? And if there was a reason he couldn't come clean... Was he an enemy? A spy? Vengeance finished thinking and opened his mouth at the same time.

"Are you a spy?"

"I'm the Squad Leader of Four-Four-Four."

"Not you, asshole."

"Me? No."

Krang shook his head. Though he had denied Vengeance's accusation immediately, Krang gave a brief, thoughtful hum and rose from the bed. Encrid watched him quietly as he took a few steps to the center of the Medical Barracks. The soldier on duty stirred from his doze and half-opened his eyes at the sight. "I can't reveal who I am, but I can tell you one thing." There was something uncanny about it. His stride as he walked to the center of the barracks, his manner of speaking, his gestures, his smile, his gaze, his breathing. It felt as though every detail fit together perfectly. He was like an actor walking across a stage prepared for him. Something about his presence naturally drew everyone's attention. Before he knew it, Encrid was watching Krang's lips. If someone knew how to listen with all his heart, could he also speak in a way that captured another person's ears and heart? "I cannot betray this kingdom." Words spoken neither quickly nor slowly. Just a few words. Words could be lies. They could be meaningless sounds. They could be used to whisper of love that would soon fade. They were only words, and yet they changed so completely depending on whose mouth they came from. Krang's words sounded like a statement that flowers bloomed in spring, leaves changed color in autumn, and fell in winter. Like an unquestionable law. Encrid saw a vision. The barracks seemed to expand all at once, with Krang standing at its very center. Vast. During his mercenary days, he had once passed through the Kingdom of Naurilia's breadbasket. His surroundings opened up like those boundless grasslands. Yet even amid all that open space, Krang stood there in sharp relief. His presence seemed to encompass the wilderness. 'He's not merely out of the ordinary.'

He was the sort of man no grade could measure.

'A knight?' No. Would a knight be only this skilled? Not that Encrid had the eye to recognize a knight-level fighter who concealed his ability. It was intuition. He probably wasn't a knight. "Well, you don't have to believe me."

With that casual remark from Krang, the vast grasslands and wilderness vanished. The figure that had stood in such sharp relief looked ordinary again. "Though I'd appreciate it if you did."

"I feel like I should."

"Really?"

"Yes. Because you said it like that." Encrid couldn't even begin to guess who he was.

'It doesn't matter much anyway.'

He only needed to stop the assassin. This was mere curiosity. It would be nice if Krang told him, but there was no problem if he didn't. "Whew."

Vengeance let out a great breath, as though he'd been holding it. Then he looked at Encrid and Krang, about to say something.

"Damn."

He said only that and turned away. Vengeance seemed to have realized that Krang was someone far from ordinary; he could say no more. Seeing this, Krang burst out laughing.

"Don't worry, Platoon Commander. Right now, I'm just Krang."

"... Who said anything?" Tsk. Scared stiff. Encrid was almost starting to find Vengeance cute. It was rather remarkable that he kept picking fights with Encrid despite being like this. He clammed up whenever he saw Rem. He didn't particularly bother the other squad members either. 'Come to think of it, I do wonder why it's only me.'

Encrid passed the time, glancing at Vengeance. The same day flowed by. "Sleep well, Encrid."

"You too."

"Ahem."

Apparently afraid of repercussions, Platoon Commander Vengeance omitted his usual nightly greeting. Well, that left things feeling a little empty. Soon, the assigned night sentry took his place outside the tent. Encrid did not sleep. He could fall asleep quickly if he wished, but staying awake for a night when necessary was no trouble either. During his mercenary days, stamina and cunning had saved him more often than swordsmanship. Time passed. The night deepened, and the sentry changed twice. Vengeance snored softly beside him, while Encrid kept sleep at bay with a variety of thoughts. 'I'll doze off if I keep lying here.'

He was just thinking of getting up to take a piss when he felt a prick. Something stung near his neck. Thinking an insect had bitten him, he brushed his neck. Something caught against his hand.

'A needle? A poisoned needle?' He carefully grasped it with his fingertips and pulled it out. It was a slender wooden needle.

'Well, I didn't expect this.'

He had meant to shout when the assassin appeared. A dull pain began spreading from the puncture, then soon he felt nothing at all. It was as though someone had severed his neck and body and carried them away. They were certainly there, but he could feel nothing below his neck. 'What the...'

Soon dizziness set in, and his head spun.

'A poisoned needle.'

They had got him. That answered "how." However oblivious someone was, however deeply they slept, how could they fail to notice their throat being cut or their heart pierced? Here was the answer. A vicious paralytic poison. Encrid tried to keep his eyes wide open to the very end. He could not let this today go to waste. He saw something like a hazy shadow. A small build. Unless they had an unusual physique, it wasn't an adult man. A woman or a child—that was what the figure's build suggested. The shadow approached and swung an arm. That was the end. "Cyprus! Cyprus!"

He heard the song praising Cyprus. A new today had begun. His third today, to be precise. "Damn it, is he slacking off? Why hasn't he brought breakfast?"

Exactly the same. Platoon Commander Vengeance, complaining about the soldier who hadn't arrived that morning. There was no need to waste time today.

"I'll go take a look."

Without bothering to engage him, Encrid went outside. First, fetch the soldier. Time to start again. To be honest, he didn't even know where the poisoned needle had come from. What should he do, then? Be ready instead of lying down. What he needed now was a suitable excuse. An excuse to be awake and on his feet in the middle of the night. Rear lines or not, this was a battlefield. There were more than enough excuses to stay awake. 'Let's try this again, my dear assassin.'

Encrid began his preparations.