Chapter 16 - Not Skilled Enough

The third today.

Encrid kept up his grip training and combat Review. He wasted no time. It was the same day, with nothing happening before nightfall.

Or so it appeared. 'I just hadn't noticed.'

Today was different from an ordinary day. Krang skipped breakfast and only returned after lunch. The Medical Barracks attendant was also absent for a long stretch, though his job normally required him to stay there at all times. Everything else was the same. The few patients in the other nearby Medical Barracks were much as before, too. Encrid sat outside his barracks and observed the soldiers passing through. This was the rear, after all, so there were fewer combat troops than at the front. A wheel broke on one of the handcarts, sending it lurching onto its side. Groans from the sick came from here and there. A soldier complained about the strong wind. Taken together, security was hardly tight, but... 'It's still not lax enough to let a few assassins slip through.'

His goal hadn't changed. Confront the assassin and raise a commotion. That was all he needed. He steeled himself. He spent the rest of the day as usual.

"Don't you get sick of that?"

There was Krang's routine question.

"Just you wait until we're back, you bastards."

And Vengeance's pointless muttering. Night deepened. Encrid lay down, then got up and perched on the edge of his bed. Sitting there, he went over what he knew.

The assassin would arrive...

'After the third night sentry takes over.' The weapons were poisoned needles and a blade. A build resembling a woman or a child. The suspected culprit: the newly appointed Company Commander. The likely target: Krang.

That was all he knew. It was enough. He wasn't the target, and all he needed to do was make a fuss. Watching the sentries change shifts, Encrid got to his feet.

"Yaaawn... Going for a piss?"

The soldier on guard yawned as he asked.

"No. Just can't sleep."

"You're going back to your unit tomorrow, right?" The sentry gave him a slight smile. Freckles and downturned eyes gave him a mild look. As a Squad Leader, Encrid did outrank an ordinary soldier.

"That's right."

"Too nervous to sleep?"

"No, the moon's too bright." At that, the freckled soldier looked up. It was a pitch-black night, the moonlight thoroughly veiled by clouds. Bright stars glittered far away, but the darkness lay so thick that without a torch, they couldn't see a thing in front of them.

"The moon?"

"I'm joking." As he spoke, Encrid glanced at the neighboring barracks' sentry. No amount of military discipline could eliminate soldiers like that. The man had leaned back against a tent pole and was nodding off.

"Ha-ha."

The freckled soldier gave a stiff laugh. "Actually, the torchlight's keeping me awake."

"You're a light sleeper."

"Always have been, since I was a kid."

That wasn't an empty claim. Encrid was more sensitive than most. He had keen hearing and smell, and could distinguish flavors well. All five of his senses were sharp. 'And yet they've gotten me twice without my noticing a thing.'

His opponent was exceptionally good at hiding. Then again, if an assassin wasn't confident in stealth and infiltration, what would they be confident in? It was dark. Watching the stars overhead and the flames on the torch stands, Encrid made a little more idle conversation. Where was the soldier from? What had brought him into the army? Things like that.

The freckled soldier readily rattled off his life story. Encrid wasn't listening closely. Even as they talked, he kept his attention fixed behind him, repeatedly touching his neck. 'The poison worked immediately because it hit my neck.'

Had it hit his forearm instead, he would have had enough time to react. He was prepared. As long as he was awake, he'd have more than enough time to shout... "Laura said she'd wait for m—"

The freckled soldier was in the middle of talking about his girlfriend back home.

THUNK!

Something burst through his throat. 'A blade!'

A finger's length of steel jutted from the front of his neck. There was no gush of blood. Until it was pulled out, the blade itself would plug the wound.

The freckled soldier swayed sideways. His mouth had been covered before Encrid knew it, and he crumpled without a sound. WHIZZ!

Then something flew at Encrid. All of it happened in a single breath.

He reacted, instinctively wrapping a hand around his neck.

PRICK!

A poisoned needle lodged in the back of his hand. Now he needed to shout. There was an assassin here! They were under attack! Something like that.

Even a meaningless scream—aaaaaah!—would have been enough.

But then... THUMP.

Something clamped over his mouth. No sound. No warning. Encrid felt someone seize his neck and twist.

CRACK.

Then came a burning pain at the back of his neck, and the sensation of a blade sliding in. He'd been stabbed so many times that he could now roughly judge how deep a blade had gone and how serious the wound was. This one would kill him before long.

He fell with the blade still in him. Warm blood ran down from the nape of his neck, soaking his chest. His attacker didn't deliver a finishing blow. Encrid had no strength to spare to see what they were doing. 'What about Krang? Platoon Commander Vengeance?'

As blood gushed out with his life, he made out two people sprawled in front of him. One was the freckled soldier. Dead from a blade through the throat. Blood pulsed from the wound, soaking the tent floor. 'What was his name?'

They'd talked about all sorts of things, but he hadn't paid attention to any of it.

Just inside the tent entrance lay Platoon Commander Vengeance, his eyes wide open. Had he been strangled too? But Krang was nowhere to be seen. Encrid squeezed out the last of his strength to lift his head and peer into the tent. The movement shifted the blade lodged in him, bringing terrible pain.

"Ghh... urgh."

A groan escaped him, but he stubbornly propped himself up to look. He saw a slender woman. A Fairy woman stood blocking the torn opening at the back of the tent.

'So it was you after all.'

The newly appointed Company Commander. However poor his eye for faces might be, he couldn't fail to recognize her. "Already taken—"

Someone else's voice joined the scene. That was where his memory ended.

"Cyprus! Cyprus!"

Today began again. 'Fuck.'

A hollow chuckle escaped him. His opponents were assassins. The heart of the beast, the Valen Mercenary Sword Technique—none of it let him do a thing. He needed to face them in a fight before he could do anything at all. Instead, they stabbed throats and fired poisoned needles without a word. He kicked off his blanket and got up.

"Have you lost your mind this early in the morning?"

Platoon Commander Vengeance asked with the flying blanket half draped over his head.

"Ah, no, sir."

This wasn't what mattered. "All right, you've got a death wish. This is insubordination, isn't it?"

Encrid ignored Vengeance as he limped to his feet and went outside.

"Hey! Running away? You little shit! You're dead when I catch you!"

After Vengeance's shouting came the voice of a newly awakened Krang.

"What's all the noise this early?" The same day repeated again.

'Let's have at it, assassin.'

Encrid prepared for the fourth night. This time, he secured a few daggers as well. He also coaxed the freckled soldier into the barracks. "Everyone you're supposed to protect is in here, right?"

Persuading him was easy. The simple country lad fell for Encrid's words completely. They brought a torch stand inside and planted it there. The barracks grew bright. 'Now then, assassins. Can you work when it's this bright?'

They could.

He had no idea when they'd slipped in, or how they got so close. An assassin dropped from above, from the tent roof. The shadow drove poisoned needles into the freckled soldier's neck and Encrid's. Just before he died, Encrid saw the tent slit open.

RIP.

A white blade. A dark figure beyond it. The torch stand they'd brought inside cast flickering light over the figure's face.

The newly appointed Company Commander. "Cyprus! Cyprus!"

The fifth today dawned.

"All right, then."

He'd known it was coming and still been killed. That made four times. Stubborn defiance took hold. He tried a similar approach again, this time truly focusing every ounce of his attention. The result wasn't much different.

The beds in these barracks had a gap underneath. A black shadow sprang out from there and threw a short arrow—a concealed projectile meant to be thrown. The tip was coated in poison. Deadly poison. An agony utterly unlike being stabbed to death overtook him. It felt as though ants were biting into his heart and eating it. His breath caught, and he couldn't draw another.

So he died without doing a thing. The sixth today was much the same. There were occasional small variations. Just before dying, he heard the assassins say something.

"You, gua—"

"You..."

"This is a war—"

"Fair..." Of course, hearing that changed nothing. He needed to be able to make something out first. A few words at best were all he had. However he tried to piece them together, he found no answer. With his stubbornness roused, Encrid tried everything he could think of. Never giving up was a strength, but in circumstances like these, it could also be a weakness. It was an age-old truth: when the head was stupid, the body suffered. Endless attempts weren't necessarily the answer.

Fortunately, Encrid wasn't an idiot. Twenty failures.

'I can't even shout.'

That was how skilled the assassins were. Once, he had even shouted that they were under attack before the enemy tried anything. Soldiers from the surrounding barracks gathered around him. He saw Krang get up, rubbing his eyes. It was shortly after the third sentry arrived, so it could be called a preemptive strike timed to their attack.

"An attack? Where?"

All he got for it was a kick in the shin from the neighboring platoon's commander. Nothing happened if he shouted first? Did that mean he could simply get through today? If so, a kick in the shin was nothing.

The commotion died down, and Encrid offered the rough excuse that he'd had a bad dream. Then... "How did you know?"

For the first time, Encrid heard an assassin's voice. A man with a metallic rasp.

Then he died, a blade buried in his throat. That wasn't the only approach he tried.

"Platoon Commander Vengeance. Am I getting on your nerves, by any chance?"

"The fuck?"

"It's Krang, not me, right? Isn't it because Krang keeps talking nonsense?"

After getting their attention with a little light conversation, Encrid warned them. "Assassins are coming. Tonight."

"... Find a quieter way to go crazy, you fucking lunatic."

Vengeance didn't believe him.

"What, have you got some secret ancestry? Why would assassins come?"

Neither did Krang. Such faithless men.

It was a failure. The attempts varied, but the reason they failed was much the same.

'Not skilled enough.'

It all came down to that. The assassins were too good. He needed to find a way. Neither the heart of the beast nor the Valen Mercenary Sword Technique was any help right now. 'Bring Rem here at night?'

Might that work? Rem, or any of his other squad members, wouldn't go down easily.

'Anyone but Big-eyes.'

They wouldn't fall victim to this. But how could he bring them here? He had no way. He was merely a Squad Leader, and they were ordinary soldiers. Whatever their skill, those were their ranks. What if he spoke to the Platoon Commander in charge of the medical platoon?

'As if he'd listen.'

And what excuse would he give? Some things were possible, and others weren't. Bringing his squad members here was out of the question. Was there another way, then?

There was.

The same today kept repeating. Encrid knew when and where he would see Big-eyes.

'Maybe I should ask for advice.'

Every one of his squad members was frighteningly talented. 'Even if I can't bring them here... '

He could still hear what they thought. It was better than pressing on out of sheer stubbornness. Encrid got off his backside to go find Big-eyes. "Where are you going?"

Platoon Commander Vengeance asked from behind him. Krang had been gone since morning. Perhaps he was asking because Encrid was leaving too.

Inwardly puzzled, Encrid answered with a question.

"Are you lonely?" "The fuck?"

"Never mind, then."

"Hey, you, you fucking—"

Encrid ignored him and walked outside.

"Just you wait until I'm healed!"

Vengeance shouted from inside the barracks. Encrid picked at his ear. Big-eyes wasn't hard to find. He looked thoroughly miserable, but what did his expression matter? Encrid had repeated today twenty times without even seeing his opponents' faces.

"Big-eyes." Hurrying somewhere, Big-eyes turned at the call. His brow creased before he spotted Encrid.

"Squad Leader? You're all better now?"

"Can we talk for a moment?"

"Ah, I'm a little busy. If you need someone to talk to, Jaxon's over there." Apparently he really was busy. Big-eyes hooked a thumb behind him and hurried away. Encrid didn't even have time to stop him. He hadn't wanted Big-eyes himself anyway; he'd meant to ask him to fetch another squad member. Encrid headed for the tent Big-eyes had indicated. It was a small one, not one of the large tents. The maintenance tents housed seldom-used supplies and broken equipment, so few people came through here. This little tent stood between them. Two people would probably fill it. "Squad Leader?"

Jaxon was there. Auburn hair, brown eyes tinged with red. A squad member with an unremarkable smile.

And, according to Rem, the shadiest bastard of them all. He'd also called him a perverted fuck who preferred picking at openings and stabbing them to facing an opponent head-on. Encrid scratched his head and asked. He seemed to have come at an awkward time.

"Got a moment?"

Jaxon nodded casually. Behind him, a woman with curly blond hair briefly poked her face out between the tent flaps, then ducked back inside. "I'm finished here."

Jaxon rose, draping his completely unbuttoned shirt over his shoulders.