Chapter 151 - On the Utterly Impossible

It was early morning. Perhaps it was better described as the moment when the end of dawn met the beginning of morning. The sun had begun to rise, washing the training grounds at one side of the parade ground in orange. How many people would come out to the parade ground at this hour? Apart from a sentry on patrol, Encrid would be the only one. So it was rare to find someone out here before him. No, this might actually be the first time. With that thought, Encrid brought his right hand to his waist and saluted. The man certainly merited it. He had hosted yesterday's banquet and was the commander currently responsible for the city of Border Guard. Battalion Commander Marcus acknowledged the salute with a nod. He was not alone. It would have been more unusual if he were. Two others stood behind him, in the shade at the corner of the parade ground. One of them, a Frog, stepped forward. Human eyes had trouble distinguishing every detail of a Frog's appearance, but Encrid could at least tell that this one was different from the Frogs he had met before. There was no scar on his neck, no savage look in his eyes. Instead, he looked curious, his white cheeks slightly puffed out. CROAK. With that characteristic sound, the Frog swept his large eyes over Encrid's entire body, from head to toe. Then his gaze traveled from his toes back up to his head and settled on his face. Making it so obvious where one was looking was a talent in itself. "I believe introductions are in order," Marcus said from behind him. It was a timely suggestion. The Frog stopped croaking and spoke. "I'm a Frog." Well, his face made that obvious. Never mind his face; three fingers were enough to give it away. He looked like an entirely different species because he was one. "You talk too much." The other person stepped forward from behind him. No, they did far more than step forward. For an instant, Encrid saw a vision of his own throat being cut. The vision came first, his reaction next. CLANG! The sound of blades meeting, metal striking metal, rang across the parade ground. Encrid had blocked the strike with his sword half drawn. When had he drawn it? If not for the instincts born of countless deaths, would he have died? Or would the attacker have stopped? He could be certain of neither. "You blocked that?" His opponent's voice was thin and high. She was a woman with short hair tied tightly back. Her round face looked gentle. The sword in her hand was anything but. "Shall we try a little more?" Her voice was utterly relaxed, and the blade came storming at him again. How else could he describe it? A storm was the only word for it. In a single instant, Encrid saw a blade falling onto his head and another piercing his belly. His throat was cut, his arm severed, his thigh stabbed. He even saw a sword piercing the top of his foot. It felt like standing naked in a storm. Like facing a tidal wave in a tiny boat. 'If I don't get out of here right now, I'll die.' The fear of death loomed over him. No matter how many times he repeated today, even if growth awaited him at the end, no human could cut away all fear and forget it. Encrid was merely a madman who knew how to fight that fear. 'If I step back...' Amid the storm of blades, Encrid realized he could escape it by retreating. All he had to do was step back, and it would end. He would no longer have to stand alone in this storm. So, would he retreat? ["Dreams are there to be given up."]

["You're a little... well, there's something wrong with your head, isn't there?"]

["Are you insane? What? A knight? A fucking nobody of a mercenary like you?"]

["Sorry. It was my first real fight."]

["Go back to your village. Farm. If you don't like that, join the village militia. You could at least make captain there."] Accompanied by mocking snickers, the people who had flung those words at him flashed through his mind. His heart thrashed wildly. They had told him to give up, that it was meaningless. And they had asked whether the path he was taking was truly the right one. Within the storm of blades, Encrid died countless times. Yet no darkness fell, and no ferryman appeared. He simply died. And died again. Died countless times. The light faded. In place of dawn's sunlight, the shadow of death loomed. Everything battered his body with suffering and pain. He already knew the answer. He only had to retreat. A single step would be enough. One step backward. The storm of blades urged him to do just that. Retreat. This was not ground where he belonged. It told him he would be freed from all this suffering and pain if he would only step back. He knew. He understood. Even so, he could not retreat. He knew that taking one step back here would do nothing to his swordsmanship or the body he had trained. Even so, he could not retreat. Even knowing that simply stepping back would end it all, he could not retreat. His faded, tattered dream asked him a question.

"And you think you'll become a knight that way?" The words of people who had passed through his life had never shaken his resolve. There was no reason for them to. But this was different. He could not allow this. The moment he had resolved to become a knight, Encrid had armed himself with the sharpest sword of all. It could be called determination, conviction, or stubbornness. If his resolve crumbled, he would have nowhere left to stand. He could not take back the ground he had gained, even if he had advanced only half a step at a time, even if he had crawled. Encrid did not even consider retreat. He merely thought:

'I'm lacking.'

He had only recognized his own shortcomings. His bodily coordination. His dodging sense. What if he had trained them further? What if he had finally mastered them? And what of the Heart of the Superhuman? Even the Isolation Technique and Balaf-style martial arts would have helped. What if he had diligently honed his fundamentals until he could extend his sword as properly and straight as the mustached man? All of that could have formed a foundation for overcoming this situation. And so Encrid could not retreat. "Enough." The storm ended as suddenly as it had begun. The instant the Frog stepped between them, it vanished without a trace. "Whew." Encrid released the breath he had been holding. His heart pounded as if it might leap out of his mouth. His legs trembled. He wanted to sink to the ground, but resisted. Instead, he looked at his opponent: the gentle-looking woman with short hair. He focused on a single desire. He wanted to know what trick she had just used. "I've never met anyone like you. You withstood that without even knowing how to handle it? If you'd held out a little longer, you'd have died." The woman who had unleashed the storm spoke from beside the Frog. "Who are you?" Encrid asked, forcing his reluctant lips apart. "Me? Aesia." She stepped forward as she spoke. FLAP. As she advanced, she unfurled the cloak thrown back behind her neck and wrapped it around herself. It billowed open, a flash of scarlet cutting through the orange morning. A scarlet cloak. A Frog at her side. Marcus escorting her in person. Who, then, could she be? "The Scarlet Cloak Knight Order?" Encrid repeated, almost murmuring. The woman nodded. "Proto knight Aesia." She smiled brightly, a smile that suited her gentle appearance. That was the end of it. Standing upright and looking at her was the most Encrid could manage. Then his consciousness snapped. His vision went black, and the ferryman appeared. 'Am I dead?' No, it had not felt like that. He wasn't dead. Then was this a dream? As the questions kept turning in his mind, the ferryman spoke. "It is a dream." He still had no eyes, nose, or mouth. It was a wonder that Encrid could hear him speak at all. "I will be watching." The ferryman's next words raised another question in Encrid's mind. "You haven't been watching all this time?" At those words, the boat floating on the black river seemed to tilt slightly. Then the dream ended as suddenly as it had begun. Darkness and light flickered. Between them, only the ferryman's final words brushed his ears. "So you've skipped today's training, have you?" What? Why did that sound like teasing? It could have been. There was no rule saying a ferryman couldn't tease someone. Still, something about the words and his tone left Encrid with a peculiar feeling. Encrid ignored it. If thinking about something would yield no answers, ignoring it was the answer. Come to think of it, he thought he had heard Jaxon's voice before he passed out.

* * *

The Frog started to reach out when Encrid collapsed, then stopped. Someone had already caught him from behind. Reddish-brown hair, calm eyes. "You've taken your little game too far." A quiet way of speaking, too. Thinking that, the Frog turned his gaze to one side. Another man stood there, radiating a distinctly rough air and glaring savagely at him. "What the hell are you doing this early in the morning?" Gray hair and gray eyes. Was he from the western frontier? Behind him stood a man as big as a bear. "Ho ho. Brother, Sister, a fine morning, isn't it? May I ask why you are doing this to my precious little Platoon Commander?" What were these bastards? The thought struck the Frog anew. Behind the three, he also spotted a blond, red-eyed man holding a sword. His distinctive appearance marked him unmistakably as a northerner. His hair was a tangled mess, and there were obvious traces of drool around his mouth. 'But that sword stance...' He liked it very much. The Frog had come at Marcus's request. Marcus had said he wanted someone's talent assessed. He wanted to know whether the man truly had the makings of a knight. So the Frog had stopped by on his way back as soon as the fighting at the front ended. Frogs' eyes differed from those of humans and Fairies. They could discern a certain talent that no amount of training could supply. Because of this peculiar insight, people called experienced Frogs Ability Assessors, or talent readers. This Frog was one such talent reader. He could not discern everything at first glance, but sometimes looking was enough. Especially when a jewel shone all on its own, even buried in mud. These men were such jewels. To the Frog's eyes, their talent was one in ten thousand, then one in a thousand chosen from among those. "Who are these fellows?"

"Members of the Lunatic Platoon." Marcus answered from behind him. The Frog had already heard the broad outlines. Every last one a mad bastard, wasn't that it? And it was a wonder that they followed only their Platoon Commander. 'A shame, really.' But he had no room to take them in right now. Above all, given their current hostility, they were not people to accept lightly. Possessing talent like that did not mean every one of them would become a knight. There was no real need to take them in. What was a knight? Only those who met every requirement could set so much as a toe in that world. The title belonged to those gathered there, and them alone. "What a lot of interesting kids." Aesia spoke from behind him. She was not particularly belligerent. She had merely administered the test Marcus requested. As she spoke, she showed both palms. She had no intention of fighting. Encrid would have been quite astonished to learn the truth. After the first strike, she had returned her sword to its scabbard and never drawn it again. Everything had been accomplished through presence and intimidation. Using presence and intimidation—pressure, in other words—to render someone unconscious was quite literally inconceivable for anyone below the level of a proto knight. In truth, it was also terribly inefficient. Better simply to knock them out with a blow. Why go to such lengths, broadcasting one's presence to everyone nearby? The mental exertion was considerable, too. Aesia had only done it because Marcus asked her to. A test for a promising prospect. That was all. There was no cause to exchange menacing looks and pressure. More importantly, a single question from Marcus drew everyone's attention. "Well? Can he become a knight?" If he showed potential, he could become a squire. He would be placed under a Knight's command. Marcus's gift. Its value was indeed considerable. What was Encrid's dream? What did he wish for? What did he want most of all? Wasn't that what gave a gift its value? Marcus felt he was putting his political education to good use. He had prepared the very thing the recipient wanted most. After the question, Aesia spoke first.

"No." The Frog followed.

"Not a chance." What was a knight? Gather ten thousand talented people. Select a thousand from among them. Winnow those thousand down to a select few, then winnow them again. Those who entered that exclusive world were called knights. "This one won't do. What about you? Interested?" The Frog addressed one man in particular. His large, round, froglike eyes were fixed on Ragna. Blinking sleep-crusted eyes, Ragna answered. "Not interested." Away from his Platoon Commander, he was nothing but a lazy layabout. He knew that better than anyone. Naturally, he refused. 'Well, now.' The Frog smacked his lips in regret. With looks like theirs, these men would certainly catch a female Frog's eye. Their skill was exceptional, too. He had thought their joining the knight order would be quite enjoyable. And he was turning it down? An offer from none other than the Scarlet Cloak Knight Order? He could not take all of them, but he could take one. "Interesting fellows. I've done your favor. Don't forget it, my lord Battalion Commander Marcus."

"Ah, of course." Aesia and Marcus exchanged words behind him. Then she tapped the Frog on the back. "What are you doing? Let's go." They both had plenty to do. They had to return to the capital and deliver the terms of Aspen's agreement following the news of victory. Beyond that, they had a mountain of other work. "I'll stay a few more days before I go."

"Uh, what?" Aesia tilted her head. The short tail of hair tied tightly behind it swung from side to side. What was he talking about? "Go on ahead," the Frog said. Aesia started to object, then closed her mouth. There would be no problem with going alone, really. Her affiliation was proof enough of her authority. She was a member of the Scarlet Cloak Knight Order. It did not matter whether the Frog added his voice. Above all, weren't Frogs hedonists who could never contain their desires or curiosity? Best to leave him be. She supposed he had taken an interest in that red-haired soldier. "All right, then." With that, Aesia turned away. Vengeance, who happened to have volunteered for sentry duty, had witnessed everything as well. Bothered by his disgraceful behavior at the banquet, he had intended to exchange a few words with Encrid when he came out for morning training. Instead, he had seen it all. None of them paid him any attention. What was so remarkable about Encrid being unable to become a knight? The world was full of people like that. "I'll impose on your hospitality for a few days," the Frog told Marcus. Marcus nodded. And so the morning encounter ended, with Encrid still unconscious.