Chapter 150 - The Night of the Banquet

Irresistible charm, drinking, and partying.

Well, it was a celebration of things like that.

Had there ever been a party like this? When had he last attended anything resembling a banquet? Encrid searched his memory. This seemed to be the first in years. Certainly his first in Border Guard, and perhaps the sort of occasion he had experienced only a handful of times in his life.

He had enjoyed something like a banquet back in his mercenary days, but what had he done then? Barely wet his lips before immersing himself in a Review of his fights.

"Have a drink, Platoon Commander."

Plenty of people besides Pin and the Company Commander held cups out to him.

"When it's time to have fun, have fun. Don't be a bore."

Even Rem was saying it. So Encrid drank. He had said he didn't enjoy drinking, not that he couldn't.

GULP.

With one sip, a sharp aroma brushed his nose, and sweet liquid flowed down his throat to warm his stomach.

'Not bad.'

He wasn't a born gourmet or a connoisseur of drink, but all those years of eating and drinking on the road counted for something. Didn't they say that a poor wanderer would eat anything, but could also judge everything that passed his lips?

'This must have cost a fair bit of Krona.'

The Battalion Commander had really opened his purse. No, more accurately, perhaps Border Guard was treating them. Surely he hadn't paid for all this himself.

In any case, Encrid ate, drank, and enjoyed himself. Once he decided to rest, he tended to put his best effort into even that. He knew all too well that proper rest prepared him for what came next.

Still.

'What a beautiful night for starlight.'

The sky embroidered with moon and stars was truly lovely. A night a little too fine to spend merely drinking.

"A little drink to refresh the palate is quite enough, brother. You wish to arm-wrestle me? Very well."

From one side came the sound of Audin enjoying himself.

"You bastard, are you being picky again?"

Rem, picking a fight.

"It simply doesn't suit my palate."

Ragna, answering back.

Where had Jaxon gone again? Had someone said he'd gone into the city? He wasn't really the banquet type.

Encrid had claimed a chair and sat there. Everyone was busy eating and drinking. Soldiers chattered excitedly, others spouting tales of valor with every other word a curse.

Besides Pin and the Fairy Company Commander, quite a few people stopped to talk to him. In fact, he was probably the most popular person there.

"I knew your day would come."

It was Bell. The fellow who had died from an arrow when Encrid first repeated today. No, the fellow who had nearly died. In a way, perhaps Encrid had changed his fate.

"So? You want to spar?" Encrid joked.

"What? No, why would I spar with you? I hear you even beat the Border Guard."

"I was lucky."

Luck. By now, the word was a habit.

"How does luck pull that off?"

Bell grumbled, then laughed. It was a remarkably sunny laugh.

Vengeance approached next.

"Why do you always... Hah."

He let out a great sigh, then said it was nothing, forget it, they should just drink. After sharing a drink, he abruptly turned away.

Encrid might not have understood before, but now he knew how Vengeance felt. He could offer some comfort. It was only a few words spoken from his chair, but if they reached the man, didn't that mean something?

"The world is wide."

Encrid comforted him as though reciting an infantry slogan.

"And full of women."

Vengeance stopped dead. What lay behind that "Why do you always... Hah"? Jealousy and envy, surely. He must have seen the Fairy Company Commander and Pin coming over to ask Encrid to drink. Perhaps he had also noticed the peculiar looks a few of the serving girls were giving him.

Had that been the right thing to say? Vengeance twisted his upper body back. His eyes seemed to burn with ghostly fire.

"You son of a bitch?"

Seeing that, Encrid thought his consolation had been just right. Wasn't that flowering passion much better to see than dejection?

"Jenny?"

Encrid looked behind Vengeance, feigning surprise. Vengeance's head whipped around. Jenny the herb seller. His sorest spot, perhaps. She had been the reason he'd first hated Encrid.

CREEEAK.

Finding nothing behind him—or rather, no Jenny—Vengeance turned his head back toward Encrid with a strange noise. It sounded like something from the neck of a newly risen skeleton soldier.

"You little shit. We're sparring."

Ah, sparring. He had meant to rest today, but there was no helping it. This really wasn't his idea.

"Shall we?"

Encrid straightened. Vengeance regretted the words the instant they left his mouth. He knew from experience, and from what he had seen, that he was no match for Encrid. But how could he stomach being mocked like that?

"There's a fight."

"Who? Who?"

"It's Platoon Commander Vengeance."

"Who's he fighting?"

"Oh, the irresistible Platoon Commander."

That damned "irresistible" again. Encrid let the soldiers' chatter go in one ear and out the other, but that word wouldn't pass so easily. It didn't seem to fit him.

He had experienced something similar before. Hadn't Audin called him stubborn? Stubborn? Not at all. Irresistible was the same. Absolutely not. A misunderstanding.

"Where? Where's the fight? Wait, hold on! You can't have a contest without betting!"

Krais, who had vanished among a group of soldiers, suddenly popped out. He looked at Encrid's face, then checked his opponent: Vengeance.

"... You may not know this, but Platoon Commander Vengeance has mastered secret assassination techniques. Anyone putting Krona on him?"

No one did. No bets were made.

Vengeance brought his sword down with all his strength. Encrid didn't let his guard down. As always, his eyes shone with concentration. Watching the descending blade, he moved without hesitation. He raised his own sword horizontally to block, hooked a foot around Vengeance's leg, then drove a knee into his thigh. A blend of fundamentals and unorthodox moves.

"Agh!"

Struck on the outside of his thigh, Vengeance collapsed.

"Hmm."

Encrid felt unsatisfied. Like stopping halfway through a piss. One blow? Wasn't Vengeance a soldier aiming for high grade himself?

["Didn't I tell you that soldier grading system was, what's the word, fuuucking stuuuupid?"]

Rem's words came back to him unbidden.

He turned, looking for someone like Rem, only to find a crowd giving him strange looks. There was admiration in those eyes. Encrid's brow furrowed, then smoothed. Only Krais caught that faintly displeased expression.

He wanted someone to challenge him, not admire him. The number of people seeking spars had increased for a while, but lately they had become few and far between. Even the Border Guard rarely came.

He thought he'd seen the border defense captain among the soldiers earlier. The First Company Commander had been somewhere around here, too. Could he pin his hopes on those two?

Encrid sought them out. It wasn't difficult; he'd already spotted them earlier. But the heavy infantry Company Commander was already well and truly drunk, and the border defense captain showed no inclination to step forward. Both held cups, and neither looked willing to fight.

"And here I was going to ask him for a drink."

The First Company Commander spoke with a flushed face, declared that the man was definitely insane, and turned away.

When the Company Commander looked at him, Encrid glanced behind himself. Since he'd mentioned an insane man, perhaps Rem was standing there. He wasn't. Who, then? Surely he hadn't meant Encrid. Wasn't he practically the only sane person in the Lunatic Platoon?

"How should I put it? He lives up to expectations? Or should I simply nod and agree that he really isn't normal?"

With those words, the border defense captain left as well.

Encrid saw the Fairy Company Commander and Pin watching him from one side. Esther was at their feet. The blue-eyed panther opened her mouth in a yawn, then abruptly turned her head.

Had she just tried to cover her mouth with a forepaw? As if that paw could cover it. That panther really was like a person, Encrid thought as he made to put away his sword.

It felt like stopping halfway through a piss. Like someone cutting off an important remark midway through. Frustrating, but what could he do when there was no willing opponent to be found? And just then, in that very situation...

"Are you really going to do it?"

"Yes."

A conversation reached him from one side. At the same time, he felt a presence so sharp it almost conjured the illusion of a sword prickling his skin. His hand rose reflexively to his sword grip. He felt he would have to draw and fight at any moment.

He turned. There stood Andrew.

SHING.

He wasn't merely standing there. He drew his sword, poised to strike out at any moment, in any direction. Why did the act of drawing it reveal such resolve?

Starlight and torchlight, a duet of light, washed over Andrew's face as he drew. One side blue, the other red. His complexion was calm; perhaps he hadn't been drinking. Standing there, he spoke.

"I learned the Gardner family's swordsmanship and honed it in real combat. Walking my path alone, I learned that there is no giving up when it comes to learning."

Mac, who had been beside him, had already stepped back. The surrounding soldiers did the same, retreating to make room. Encrid and Andrew stood alone in the center. One had a hand on his sword grip. The other had already drawn.

Without letting his presence weaken, Andrew continued.

"I ask for your instruction."

Encrid looked into Andrew's eyes for a moment. Steady eyes, burning with fervor rather than admiration. He liked those eyes very much. And this moment.

FWOOSH.

A torch flared beside them, and a pleasant night breeze blew.

He had heard people say spring held a magic of its own so often he was sick of it.

'That saying.'

It seemed to be true.

Instead of answering, Encrid looked up. Night. A feast of stars amid the moonlight. A world of cascading starlight lay above him. He lowered his head and spoke.

"A fine night for a fight, isn't it?"

He meant it. So much so that spending a day like this on a banquet seemed a waste. Yes, on another night, if the stars hadn't shone down on him like this, perhaps he would simply have enjoyed the banquet. But this night was too fine to waste.

"Then."

Andrew extended his sword, and Encrid met him.

They had first met among the scouts, but their relationship had changed rapidly. And now, once again, Andrew's sword danced. An Unorthodox Sword: a style centered on speed, probing an opponent's weaknesses.

Encrid faced him cautiously, with concentration, and showed everything he had. That was only right. His opponent was giving his best in earnest, so he ought to do the same.

Esther found it quite curious.

'Tonight really is...'

A night when magic flowed thickly. Sensitive people sometimes noticed that something was different on nights like this. Had he sensed it, too? The way he couldn't keep still and kept leaping into action certainly suggested it.

The fight was short, and the outcome clear.

"All right, everyone who wagered Krona!"

Krais's voice rang out louder and clearer than ever. He might have been the busiest and most enthusiastic person there that night.

THUD.

Andrew fell backward. There had been no exchange of dozens of blows. The outcome had been decided before even ten strikes were complete.

After knocking him down, Encrid held out a hand, clasped Andrew's, and pulled him up. As he did, a sudden question occurred to him.

"Are you planning to leave?"

"Whew. Yes."

Andrew let out a long breath before answering.

"Why?"

"I have something to do."

Then he should go. You couldn't hold back someone who had decided to leave.

"It's been a pleasure."

"Yes, Captain."

Andrew smiled. In a way, he was like a little brother, the youngest of the family. That was the feeling he gave Encrid.

"I've learned so much."

Encrid nodded at Andrew's added words.

For some, it was a banquet for drinking themselves senseless. For others, a banquet for running bets and making Krona. For still others, a banquet for reaffirming their camaraderie. And for Encrid, it was a banquet with beautiful starlight, perfect for sparring.

After that, several more fired-up soldiers challenged him. The mood had changed. He was very glad of it.

And so the night of eating, drinking, and fighting passed. Encrid went to sleep and woke at dawn as usual. Time for morning training. Banquet night or not, there was work to be done.

But when he went out to the training ground, an unexpected visitor was waiting there.

* * *

The party continued until the middle of the night. Another battalion, one that hadn't taken part in the fighting, took responsibility for their duties.

"I owe you one."

Marcus said it as he made the request of a commander under him.

"Not at all."

The commander readily accepted.

Why wouldn't he? Who was Marcus? No ordinary battalion commander. Upon returning to the capital, he would be a man of different standing. He was a noble, a member of one of the five families at the heart of power.

"Well, then."

The commander left, and Marcus set down the bottle he had been holding.

He had done something out of character for the sake of his troops' morale. He preferred tea to liquor. Even when he drank, he habitually mixed it with tea. He also preferred quiet gatherings to noisy ones.

'The result of my childhood education?'

Was it the influence of the tea ceremonies he had learned at home? It hardly mattered. There was no need to change something already familiar and habitual.

Marcus drank his tea at leisure. The noise reached even his quarters. He had forbidden them to bring in prostitutes, but once the drink flowed, plenty of men would head to the red-light district. Tonight called for leniency rather than discipline. He intended to let most things slide.

As he passed the time, several commanders he knew dropped by. Some were mindful of his power. Others came because they liked the man he was on the battlefield, with his nickname, the Warmonger.

At least all the company commanders had visited.

'No, one is missing.'

The Fairy Company Commander was nowhere to be seen.

Well, it was nothing to concern himself with. The thought of her fawning over power, or going out of her way to share a drink with him, was equally absurd.

After talking over tea laced with liquor, Marcus retired early, around the time the sun set and the moon rose. He slept soundly, without dreams.

In the silence:

KNOCK, KNOCK.

"Battalion Commander."

The knock and the voice of the sentry serving as his bodyguard woke Marcus.

"What is it?"

He looked toward the window. Dawn had yet to break. Beyond the moonlight, vivid blue and orange mingled to herald the new day.

"You have a visitor."

Far too early for a visitor, in other words. Who would come at this hour, at a moment like this? Someone unconcerned with human etiquette or noble power.

Marcus wasn't flustered. He hadn't expected a visit at this hour, but he could guess who it was.

'I thought tomorrow at the earliest.'

He had heard that the fighting had only just been wrapped up. Had his gift arrived in a hurry? Or had they been looking forward to this, too?

"I'll be right out."

Marcus went out with a jacket draped loosely over his shirt.

The gift had arrived. Now it was time to deliver it. A gift meant for one person, the result of much deliberation on Marcus's part. Its recipient was, of course, Encrid.