Chapter 159 - You See as Much as You Know

Ten whistle daggers, and roomy leather armor lined with thin cloth so it would not chafe. The armor was good. He liked it quite a bit. It would not stop spells like his previous armor, but it should be more than adequate against physical attacks. Wearing it would still be miserable in hot weather, of course. But if he needed it, he would have to wear it. What else could he do? Chains hammered thin through countless blows formed a lattice between the layers of leather. It was heavy, but the protection seemed exceptional. "My masterpiece."

The blacksmith had every reason to call it that. He had offered it at half price, but the armor itself could not be cheap—not with the cost of working the leather and making each fine chain. He said it had taken nearly a year to make. "Put it to good use."

It was a gift from the blacksmith with the dark red face. Encrid could not accept something like this for nothing, so he had pestered Krais relentlessly until he paid for it. The blacksmith accepted the pouch of Krona without a word. In any case, he now had that armor, along with two daggers to strap to his ankles. He also packed a guard sword at the back of his waist and eight throwing knives along his thighs and flanks. The whistle-dagger sheaths crossed his chest in an X. Experience had already taught him the best angle for an easy draw. He had used it often for years. A general-purpose knife seemed useful for the road, so he packed one of those too. Should he bring a shortsword as well? It would make a decent backup if his sword broke. All these odds and ends were becoming quite a load. He needed a thick blanket for sleeping outdoors, and probably at least one pot. He could tell Krais to carry the pot, but there was plenty else to prepare. Charcoal to get them through the night, thick cloth, wooden spoons and forks. A thin iron plate alloyed with copper would be useful too—perfect for grilling something to eat. He would need a backpack for the journey, and it was going to be heavy. If Encrid had to name the thing most responsible for keeping him alive despite his poor swordsmanship, it would be this preparedness. An ingrained habit did not simply disappear. Besides, there were only four of them. Granted, all four were formidable fighters, and Frogs even traveled alone. Still, Encrid knew the dangers of the road all too well to skimp on preparations, whatever the circumstances. This put his mind at ease. "You're taking all of that?"

Luagarne's remark from beside him sounded like a rebuke. Perhaps it was merely admiration, but Encrid paid it no mind. His own peace of mind came first, didn't it? "Yes. It's a shame I can't take more." A gauntlet and shin guards, too. He was thoroughly armed. He sharpened each knife and diligently polished the blades with oil made from sheep fat. They gleamed. "Planning to reflect the sunlight off them in broad daylight?"

"Sharp of you." Encrid kept answering casually as the Frog watched and offered comments. They sounded like a comedy duo. "Why do I feel like someone's stolen my spot?"

Rem spouted nonsense beside them. Encrid ignored it. "Why won't you answer me?"

Rem's tone grew sulky. This would not do. If he let Rem keep grumbling, the man might start causing trouble, so Encrid spoke. "I did."

"When?"

"By not answering." What kind of insane nonsense was that? Rem's face twisted oddly. Encrid took his reaction in stride. Meaning, he ignored it. "Tch."

Rem let it go too. He would lose a battle of words. Experience had taught him that time and again. Mission or no mission, life went on as usual. Encrid did what he always did. He rose in the morning and threw himself into training like a madman. In the evening, he prepared for departure, maintaining his equipment and gathering all manner of tools. Watching him, the Frog was half appalled. 'Is he just that tenacious?'

Or was he simply obtuse? He just did it all. Neither the training nor the preparations were easy, yet he showed no hesitation, no distress. Well, there were occasional glimpses of suffering when he put his body through the so-called Isolation Technique. But then he wore that strange smile afterward. 'Is he simply a masochist?'

Perhaps he was. Far from discouraging him or driving him to despair, being told he could not become a knight did not even faze him. After three months of watching, she could find nothing false in his behavior. Which meant he was strange. No, truly strange. GURGLE. How could she not be interested? His exceptional looks made watching him a pleasure, too. Where had someone like him come from? "He's mine."

Luagarne was crouched beneath a patch of shade at the edge of the training ground, watching. The Fairy Company Commander had approached beside her at some point and spoken. The Fairy's shadow bulged slightly beyond the edge of the shade. "Did anyone say otherwise?"

Luagarne replied indifferently. HISSS.

Sitting alone in the shade opposite them, Esther bared her fangs. She did that at the slightest provocation. It was none of Luagarne's concern, so she let it pass. She was a Frog. What mattered to Frogs was appetite and desire, interest and stimulation. With that stimulation right before her eyes, she was in such a good mood that she would not kill someone outright even if they tapped her over the heart. Of course, since they had touched her heart, she would still half kill them.

* * *

Between training sessions, Encrid did not forget his duties. "You're heading out? Four of you? The Frog too?"

When he reported to the Battalion Commander, the man asked a few questions, but approval soon followed. "How unusual."

That was all he added. "So, how do you feel about being told you cannot become a knight?"

The Battalion Commander called after Encrid as he was about to leave. Before saluting, Encrid answered without concern. "Yes, thank you for the gift." Had there been malice in the man's thoughtfulness? No. There had not. Even if there had, it had been a valuable opportunity for Encrid all the same. A dream never to be fulfilled, was it? That did not apply to Encrid. He had come this far pursuing what he had never managed to achieve. This was merely the process of stitching together a dream torn to shreds. "Thank you?"

"Yes."

"I see." He saluted amid the dull exchange and went back outside. The Fairy Company Commander trailed after him. It occurred to him that he had been seeing her rather often lately. Did she have nothing to do these days? As he looked at her with that question in his eyes, she said,

"Fallen for me all over again?"

More nonsense. Encrid said no and turned away. Back at the quarters, he immersed himself in preparing his gear again. "Just itching to get out there, aren't you? Look how excited you are."

Rem picked a fight for no reason. "If you're restless, how about a round?"

Encrid deftly turned the provocation aside.

"Gladly!" An invigorating spar. Hearty blows. CLANG! CLANG! One thing made it more satisfying than before: a new emotion showed on Rem's face. Something like satisfaction. Encrid activated the Heart of the Superhuman and swung his sword down onto the axe. With exquisite footwork, Rem redirected the force. It was the first time he had used anything resembling the Flowing Sword Technique. "Deflecting?"

"What? Am I not allowed to use something like that?"

"No." That was not what he meant. In the end, a heavy axe blow disrupted the Heart of the Superhuman, and Encrid lost. Afterward, he fought Audin, then Ragna. Jaxon showed his face again, apparently free of his other business, so Encrid fought him too. "You haven't trained enough."

His training increased. In other words, Jaxon readily helped him train: sharpening his ability to track moving objects and his reflexes, all for the sake of his dodging sense. "You still have a long way to go."

The results remained inadequate, but he kept repeating the exercises. The point was this: with his gear more or less ready, he once again devoted himself to an absurd amount of training right up until the day before departure. "You've acquired more skills. You need to put them in order."

Ragna interrupted with an uncharacteristic bit of nagging. Encrid thought it worth listening to. "I will."

He increased the time he spent meditating between training sessions. When the mood took her, Luagarne wielded her whip or corrected his stances, but she mostly remained a spectator. Encrid did not mind that either. He was busy building steadily upon what he had. 'Fundamentals.'

The fundamentals of swordsmanship and physical training. The fundamentals of the Northern Heavy Sword within The Oniak Sword Technique, and the Isolation Technique. Supporting them was his sense for the blade. Throwing open his Sixth Sense let him glimpse the immediate future. That did not activate on its own, either. It needed the support of Concentrate on a Single Point. 'I'm no genius.' Only a frog fallen into a well called today. A mayfly that climbed out of that well and raced toward tomorrow. That was why he struggled desperately. That was why he moved forward, even if he had to crawl. Encrid had not changed. He was steadfast to a fault. A pilgrim wandering in pursuit of a faded dream, he could only walk and keep walking. He honed what he had, steeled his resolve, and honed it again. As he grasped rhythm, his Heavy Sword Technique gained power. He grew a little more accustomed to the Heart of the Superhuman. Then came the day before departure. "I hear herds of demonic beasts have been running absolutely wild lately. Peddlers used to travel in groups of ten, but now they hardly go anywhere unless there are at least twenty of them. Is it really safe for us to head out like this? Well, I'm sure it is." Had he started worrying and then stopped? Looking around at the Frog, Pin, and Encrid, Krais had taken his remarks in a peculiar new direction. After listening to Krais, Encrid went out to spar as usual. His opponent was Rem. They stood some distance apart. Encrid drew his sword and leveled it, while Rem held his axes and twirled his wrists. How many bouts did this make? They had fought often lately. "Give me a little more fun today." Rem had been sulking over something. Half the reason Encrid had come out was to cheer him up. If he was going to be like this, he should just come along. Why insist on staying behind and sulking? The season was now halfway through its transition into summer. Encrid felt the change in temperature. He felt the subtle direction of the breeze. The air changed in an instant. In another instant, he gauged the distance between them. That moment, that split second, that interval fractured into smaller pieces. At the same time, everything he had learned through his repeating todays rose, thread by thread, and settled into his body. The things he had mastered over time. Lines connecting point to point. A circle drawn around himself—the domain of his sword. The timing of attack, defense, and counterattack, called rhythm or tempo. The immediate future revealed through his opponent's hand movements and breathing. Encrid lowered his hands a little. It was instinct, something he had to do because he could see the future. His sword tip tilted a little farther forward. Two axes stopped amid the sunlight. He saw the tip of Rem's nose. His eyes. Even the sweat running down his forehead. Forgetting himself as he faced his opponent, Encrid found the swiftest, most rational path. The point where their domains met. The tempo and timing that favored him. His foot lifted from the ground in rhythm. His sword cleaved through the sunlight, descending from above. The axes moved too. So did the man holding them. A pale, indistinct shape—or something like one—appeared. To Encrid, it looked like an evil spirit, or perhaps a ghost. In any case, the evil spirit's axe came hurtling toward him. SHICK! An illusion of his neck being severed. Just before it reached him, Encrid's sword came down as well. A lightning strike, accelerating with all the weight of the Heavy Sword Technique. WHOOSH. Had he cut anything? No. His neck? His neck was fine too. Being beheaded by the axe had been an illusion. "... Well, uh, have you learned how to make a man get serious, too?"

"You dodged, didn't you?" Encrid turned as he spoke and saw blood on Rem's cheek. He had felt nothing through his hands, but he had cut him. Only a scratch on the cheek, but still. A tingle ran through him. Something like profound emotion reverberated through his entire body. It felt as though a beast's roar were spreading from within, setting him vibrating. Come to think of it, this was a first. Rem, Ragna, Audin, Jaxon. His sword had never left so much as a scratch on any of them. "That's it."

Luagarne sprang to her feet as she spoke, clapping her hands. Her smooth palms met with a dull sound. Despite the sound, she looked thoroughly delighted. "Well, just now, I mean..."

Encrid could not readily find the words. Had this been a new experience? No. This had happened before. He had experienced it. 'The mustached man.' When he first faced that man, and when he became utterly absorbed in Mitch Hurrier and used Concentrate on a Single Point. The experience of his concentration breaking through some limit. Of course, it had been more intense this time. He had learned more. He had mastered more. They said you could see only as much as you knew. And that was what he saw. As much as he knew.