Chapter 162 - It Matters Not Whether We Are Welcome

After finishing off the pack of hyena demonic beasts, the party found a stream, washed, and took out some jerky to eat. Eating, drinking, and keeping clean were important, especially on a long journey. Even catching a cold could make the road drastically harder. “Seriously, this flavor...”

Pin seemed to be feeling a little better too. Such was the power of seasoned jerky. Luagarne ate dried fruit and edible grubs she had prepared herself. She also caught and ate a few insects resembling cicadas. It was nothing to turn anyone’s stomach. They already knew perfectly well that this was what Frogs ate. “Insects make you strong.”

She spoke while chewing a dried grub. Border Guard had no establishments catering to Frogs, which meant Luagarne had prepared that packed meal herself. As long as the person eating was satisfied, that was enough. On that note, Esther enjoyed the jerky too. She chewed a few times, swallowed, then nodded in satisfaction. Was that really a panther? At this point, couldn’t they call her a person? Everyone filled their waterskins and drank. The stream water was clear and cool. Following the highway, they were cresting a low rise when Encrid caught an unpleasant scent.

'Blood?'

Death. The battlefield. That sort of smell. Blood and metal—the scent of battle. Beyond the rise, the source came into view. Demonic-beast carcasses lay scattered everywhere: wolves, snakes, even transformed goats. There were quite a few. He could see wounds where weapons had cut, struck, and torn them. Many other corpses had been ripped to shreds, and some bore traces of scavenging wild dogs. What was a demonic beast? An animal transformed by a monster’s demonic energy or the influence of the Demonic Realm. Carnivorous, aggressive animals tended to be affected more readily and profoundly.

Even so...

'There are so many.' As Pin had said in her anger, this wasn’t the Demonic Realm. How could there be so many demonic beasts? The scattered corpses alone numbered a full thirty. The Demonic Realm was a land beyond humanity’s reach, the source of monsters and demonic beasts. Kingdoms had tried time and again to subjugate it, only to weaken themselves and be swallowed by neighboring nations without coming close to their goal. Speculation abounded that something at its heart spewed forth monsters. Naturally, had they truly been near the Demonic Realm, a group this size would have merited the word “mere.” They encountered no more packs of demonic beasts after that.

“I’d like to say this is normal, but...” Pin muttered.

She too had seen the dead demonic beasts scattered everywhere. A few Ghouls as well, but most were demonic beasts. They far outnumbered the monsters. After devoting the better part of twenty days to the journey, the party finally caught sight of the Pioneer Village. Their countless encounters with monsters and demonic beasts had delayed them two days, making it twenty-two in all. They had reached their destination. A tall wooden palisade rose before them, a sturdy barrier against enemy incursions. A couple of structures resembling watchtowers stood above it. This was no small settlement. With determined support from the kingdom, a village could certainly grow to this scale. It was large enough to put one in mind of a castle. “It’s big,” Krais remarked.

“It is,” Pin answered casually, surveying the surroundings. The journey had frustrated her as a ranger, but they had arrived in the end. She decided to be satisfied with that. No one could be perfect at everything. Encrid paid none of that any mind. He simply headed toward the palisade. Well-built defenses—that was his first impression. It meant serious resources had been committed to this Pioneer Village. When Encrid announced his affiliation at the entrance, the palisade gate soon opened. Up on the watchtower, a sharp-eyed man’s eyebrow twitched. He had a thoroughly unpleasant look.

'That face is asking to be punched.'

That was the sort of face he had. Even Encrid, who generally kept out of other people’s affairs, wanted to hit it. From inside, he could see that both the palisade and its gate were made entirely of thick logs. It was a remarkably sturdy enclosure. Not quite a castle wall, but comparable in size and height. A tall flagpole and a platform stood in the center of the village, marking what was plainly the village square. As they entered, the headman came out to meet them. He was young, about Encrid’s age, with an unremarkable face but eyes brimming with confidence. “Welcome,” the headman said.

His tone, manner, and gaze gave Encrid the feeling they were not welcome at all. Was it thanks to his developing Sixth Sense and intuition? Even with a Frog accompanying them, the headman truly did not welcome the party.

* * *

“We can manage perfectly well on our own.”

“We drove off a large bandit gang nearby, too.”

“Ever heard of the Black Blade Bandits? Even they don’t dare try anything!”

“We appreciate the Frog coming, and a commander as well, but as you can see, this is no small village.”

“So, you’re a platoon commander? You must be fairly handy with a sword?”

“One of our number led a mercenary corps in his younger days. I don’t know if you’ve heard of him—One-Eyed Glaive. He’s our guard captain now.” Their treatment of the party could be summed up as follows:

“We’ll handle things without your meddling. Just look around, then go home, and we’ll put in a good word for you. The commission? We can just say you completed it, can’t we? We’ve already dealt with the colony.”

That was what they meant. The headman and the others were probably the village’s core authorities, its mainstays. None were particularly old; most ranged from young to middle-aged. They wanted the party to stay out of things, and most of the village’s people seemed to support that view. The guards—or militia, whatever they were—seemed to display something close to outright hostility. “Let’s do that.”

Encrid did not insist on forcing anything upon them to secure his command. It would be pointless. A commission was a commission, work was work, and people were people. They said they would handle things, so he left them to it. He did, however, decide to stay. Seven days at most, five at least. He would see whether the place really was safe, then return and report. That would be that. In any case, it was their wish, and Encrid accepted it without making much of it. They had been given a hastily built hut for lodging. With Krais out looking around the village, Luagarne asked,

“Are we simply staying here? Looking around?”

“I thought I’d spend the time training.”

“Even here? Yes, I suppose you would.” Luagarne was getting used to the human called Encrid now. This fellow would be quite capable of doing nothing but swinging his sword even here. There was plenty of open ground near the hut, with houses still being built in many places. Encrid began swinging his sword in one corner of a clearing. Let people watch or not. When had he ever cared? The fundamentals of the Righteous Sword, and his dodging sense. These were what had engrossed him most lately. As the things he had learned unwound through his body, strand by strand, he swung again and again, readily stepping into a world where he forgot himself and only the sword remained. Within it, he reviewed what Luagarne had taught him on the journey. Encrid began swinging in earnest. Meanwhile, Krais was busy poking around every corner of the village. Luagarne had expected him to be shunned as an outsider, but he was fitting in remarkably well.

'That’s a talent too,' she thought. The human called Krais knew how to read people and scratch where they itched. Watching him as she went about, she saw him say,

“Would you like a smoke?”

A single rolled cigarette won him goodwill. That was how he struck up an acquaintance with a shaggy-bearded man coming and going near the quarry. “You’re doing something impressive. You took all those risks to come out here, didn’t you? All the way to a Pioneer Village. Wow. Eh? Now that’s a man. A real man.”

A few words were all it took to win him over.

'A fine way with words, too.' There were plenty of fellows like that in the kingdom. The ones commonly called politicians—nobles drawing pay from the state. Officials.

'Would it suit him?' By ordinary standards, the journey here had been perilous and arduous. Of course, given the party’s fighting strength, there had been no great danger. Even so, it was rather remarkable to see him bustling about so energetically right away. The Frog’s gaze sought out the rest of the party. The panther called Esther had her paws on the hut’s windowsill and was staring intently at her master. Pin was inside catching up on sleep. Luagarne had nothing in particular to do. What should she do with her spare time? Watch Encrid and help with his training. So that was what she did. As she watched, people from her past came to mind, one after another. More precisely, those so-called geniuses who had passed through her hands. Every last one had been a real son of a bitch. Yes, that was right. Sons of bitches. They truly had been. [“I think that’s enough, don’t you?”]

[“Do I have to learn more?”]

[“I have an engagement at a salon this evening.”]

[“Wait, do you like me? I have no intention of having any of that spiritual love business with a Frog, so could you please leave me alone?”]

[“That’s it. I’m at my limit. I can’t do any more.”] The talented ones were all alike. A little practice was enough for their bodies to master a skill, so they knew nothing of training that ground down their bones. Training until they coughed blood was beyond them, too. They were too busy merely putting in their allotted hours. Born with bodies that made astonishingly efficient use of their time, they became fellows whose mental fortitude was a dried-up well. Ultimately, wielding a sword required control of the body, the ability to move it as one wished. That was the basic requirement, and they had been born with it. Geniuses whose bodies absorbed a skill after a few attempts. Fellows unaccustomed to effort. BURBLE.

The thought made her cheeks puff up of their own accord. Then what should one do after meeting that basic requirement?

'What else?'

Keep swinging, running, and rolling. But had any of them done that? It was truly, truly uncommon. Rare indeed. Though most of them had been such idiots, there had been exceptions.

'The gods are not fair.'

A memory surfaced that was not depressing, but not especially pleasant either: her first lover, a man who never thought of tomorrow and always gave his all to the present. [“Training is fun.”]

The things he had said came back to her. Luagarne lingered over the memories. She had been young then, far more passionate than she was now. Of course, a Frog’s desires would not cool with age. They were hedonists, one of the warrior races, living according to their wants and desires. Her reverie faded, and another human man filled her vision. Looking at him, she spoke without thinking.

“Is it fun?”

Still caught in her memories, Luagarne asked the question. Encrid glanced at her and nodded.

“Yes, it is.” She saw a man drenched in sweat. Black hair and blue eyes—different from the man who had been her lover. Her lover had also possessed outstanding talent. Had he lived, had the gods’ unfairness not settled upon him, he might have become a knight. But not the man before her. Why, then, did she see one superimposed upon the other? Mere memories. A faded past. Recollections that had become pain rather than pleasure. Luagarne was a Frog, so she cast aside the unpleasant memories. All she needed was to live each day fully, surrender to her desires, and honor her covenant. “Captain, Captain.”

During Luagarne’s brief lapse into sentiment, Krais came trotting over and called to Encrid. Once he reached them, he began to speak. “They’re serious about this place. A quarry, a training ground—they’re even planning barracks. There’s talk of some noble lord backing them, too.”

It had not even been half a day, and he had already picked up so much. As he spoke, Krais pointed his forefinger skyward. Someone above, someone powerful, had a hand in this village. Well, without that, building on this scale would have been difficult. “What about defenses?” Encrid asked, nodding.

What would happen if a large pack of demonic beasts descended on them? The original commission was to deal with a colony of demonic beasts. He had been granted command so he could use the village militia. Now that this was no longer an option, could the village deal with the colony on its own? Would they be safe if trouble arose later? He had taken the job. He would inspect things properly. A commission was a commission, work was work, and people were people. He needed to know what needed knowing. Krais had not been scurrying about for lack of anything better to do. He and Encrid worked together better than one might expect. A look from Encrid had been enough for him to gather all the necessary information. “Excellent. That former mercenary commander or whatever he is seems to have trained them properly. I’m no expert, but they’re disciplined, at least. And a disciplined unit generally doesn’t fall apart easily. The fellows on the watchtowers have quite the look in their eyes, too. Polite tongues, murderous eyes. Really murderous.” The watchtower. Those eyes. That face. Encrid really did not like it. Just a feeling. Had the man been a mercenary who did a bit of banditry on the side? Perhaps. In any case, he thought there was probably little to worry about if the defenses were this good. Then what should they do?

“Since things have worked out this way, Captain, why don’t we go look for that treasure...”

“Luagarne.”

Encrid called to the Frog before Krais had finished. Shaken free of her reverie, she turned her bulging eyes toward him.

“Let’s spar.” Sparring and training. He could simply do what he always did. People nearby had already begun watching him. An oddity among oddities. It looked as though he would spend the entire day swinging a sword here, too. “Shall we use wooden swords?” the Frog asked.

“Krais?”

Instead of answering, Encrid called his resourceful subordinate’s name. Even unwelcome guests ought to be able to procure a pair of wooden swords. “You’re not going treasure hunting, are you?”

Krais answered Encrid’s request with a question of his own, his voice earnest. Naturally. There was Krona at stake.

“I’m leaning toward going.”

“... I’ll get the wooden swords.” Encrid had a sly streak stronger than one might expect, and Krais was well aware of it. Still...

'He keeps his word.'

Encrid tended to honor what he said. And hadn’t he said he was leaning toward it? That meant they were halfway there. As Encrid watched Krais hurry off again, he heard a snickering sound behind him. Turning, he found Esther laughing. The panther had a very distinctive laugh. “Have you always laughed like that?”

Struck by fresh curiosity, Encrid asked. Esther stretched out her neck, turned her head aside, then lay down with her head on her forepaws, pretending to be dignified and not to have laughed at all. So much for getting an answer. Krais soon managed to return with wooden swords, and the sparring began. Luagarne had a reason for requesting them.

“It’s a game of moves and countermoves.” She had once used this method to teach her exceptionally gifted lover, though of course Encrid knew nothing of that. He was too busy enjoying himself. New training, a new way of wielding a blade. It was fun. Rather than his physical abilities, this exercise honed the fundamentals of the Righteous Sword Technique. In which direction should he block and divert the opponent’s incoming sword? Every choice prepared the next move. Moves that laid traps everywhere in pursuit of victory. As they slowly brought their wooden swords together, building their moves, people nearby began running their mouths.

“What’s that supposed to be?”

“Did he come here to play?”

“What? Reinforcements from the kingdom? Not someone on holiday?” Word began to spread that some fellow was playing at sword fighting with a Frog. Large as it might be, this was still a Pioneer Village. Excluding the militia, its inhabitants numbered around two hundred at most. Rumor had it that the man sent from Border Guard as a commander was an idler who had brought along a woman and a Frog. The Frog was his bodyguard and the woman his guide, they said. He had even brought a large-eyed manservant and a pet. Encrid did not care. He had been plagued by worse rumors as the troublemaker Squad Leader and had paid them no mind then, either. “Ugh, we come all this way, and you’re swinging a sword again?”

Waking from a good, long nap, Pin took one look at the sweat-soaked Encrid and clicked her tongue in disbelief.