Chapter 185 - Did You Beat Up the Others?

The cultists’ hierarchy resembled that of an ordinary temple: a pope at the top, followed by cardinals, bishops, priests, and believers. Sometimes there were monks between the priests and the believers. A high priest generally meant someone of bishop rank or above. The blond man was just such a bishop. He also held another identity in public, one of considerable standing. In other words, among the seeds the cultists had sown, he had grown into a particularly sturdy tree. “You’re saying it failed because of a mere Platoon Commander?”

“Yes.” At the junior priest’s reply, the bishop furrowed his brow. His handsome face twisted into something menacing.

‘What nonsense.’

A Platoon Commander had brought down a Knoll colony? “It wasn’t some Knight interfering?”

“No, Your Grace.”

“No, that wouldn’t make sense.”

The bishop shook his head at his own suggestion. Could the Kingdom of Naurilia afford to dispatch a Knight or troops here right now? Not a chance. There were problems everywhere demanding attention. No, there were plenty they couldn’t even begin to resolve. Bandits called Black Blade were running rampant throughout the kingdom’s lands. To the west lay a city of plunderers formed by settlers banding together. To the east, a country ruled by a butcher of men provoked them at every opportunity. If only that were all. Other problems flooded in from every direction. ‘The power struggle between the nobles and the royal family, for instance.’

Really, one could trace all of it back to the divide between the royalist and aristocratic factions. The kingdom’s strength had been split, inviting others to poke their heads in and see what they could get. They did seem to have dealt a blow to Aspen, which had been picking fights to the north.

‘But didn’t they overextend themselves?’

That was the bishop’s assessment. They had pulled some of the troops stationed in the south and west to strike Aspen. Yes, they’d had little choice. Otherwise, they stood to lose the entire Green Pearl plains to the north. Still, he had expected them to barely hold the line and maintain the status quo. Instead, Naurilia had won an overwhelming victory. But that effort to stop Aspen had its price. With too few hands to go around, the western city of plunderers had quietly begun reaching in, and the human butcher’s kingdom to the southeast had taken a bold step forward. And what of the Black Blade Bandits? Would they merely stand by and watch? On top of that, the kingdom had failed to contain the monsters stirring in the south, leaving the region shrouded in gloom, hadn’t it? He’d also heard of endless streams of refugees. And would Aspen’s withdrawal be the end of it?

‘What about the fighting between the remaining cities?’

What would be left once Aspen withdrew? Green Pearl. And trade routes opening in every direction. Then they would all eye the size of one another’s bread and fight desperately to steal it. The kingdom, which ought to mediate, would be too drained to stop them. ‘It’s a wonder the place hasn’t collapsed.’

Of course, that was why the bishop was here. Plenty of openings, plenty to feed on. Plenty of rot. How could he turn away from such a succulent hunk of meat? The Cult of the Sacred Demonic Realm hadn’t established itself here without reason. And what of all the supplies and capital they had poured into this place? It had every potential to become a new Demonic Realm. A holy land. Having one of their preparations ruined was bewildering.

‘Because of one mere Platoon Commander?’ How many Krona had gone into those preparations? This wasn’t a matter of a few gold coins. And what about the weapons and armor they had given the Knolls? Every Krona the cultists had invested had ended up benefiting Pioneer Village. In return, Encrid had received a portion as a monetary reward. More precisely, Krais had stepped in as an intermediary to collect it. The bishop had no way of knowing that much. He was simply displeased. What to do? He considered it briefly. The man was only a Platoon Commander, wasn’t he? Had he been lucky? In truth, no one on their side had witnessed Encrid’s fighting. A handful of monsters had survived, but the Knolls weren’t about to relay an account. It must have been luck. Thinking it over, that was quite plausible. The defenses had been sturdy. The believer who infiltrated first must have been discovered by chance, and the priest’s identity exposed while trying to contain the damage. Then, by another coincidence, the village had already been prepared for something on the scale of a siege.

... Wasn’t that rather a lot of coincidences?

He must have had some skill, too. Still, it came down to luck. In that case... ‘Just because he was lucky, will that luck last?’

It would not.

“Send a believer skilled in assassination.” If there was a problem, simply cut it out. That was the bishop’s way. Of course, he never did receive word that Encrid had been assassinated. Nor did he keep an ear out for such news. He merely prepared for what came next. If he belonged to the kingdom, what would he consider its greatest problem? Not Black Blade, the rampaging monsters, or the surrounding nations that prowled like wolves. Its greatest problem would be the cultists. And he was the linchpin of those they called an evil cult in this region. The bishop prepared his next move. He soon forgot Encrid’s existence. Every so often, someone accomplished an extraordinary feat like that. Sometimes it was a mere soldier, but it was always fleeting. He had survived among a thousand monsters? Fine, let it have been a stroke of heaven-sent luck. What then? What would he do when a similar crisis came along? He was a dead man anyway. So the bishop dismissed him.

* * *

Border Guard was the same as ever. Nothing had changed.

“Welcome back, sir.”

No, something had changed. Their attitude. The way the soldiers treated Encrid had changed completely. The soldier on duty at the outer gate saluted. Encrid gave a casual nod in return, then spotted a familiar face. “Have you come to welcome me back?”

It was the Fairy Company Commander. In her usual matter-of-fact tone, she returned his joke twofold.

“My beloved is returning. Of course I should come. I can’t have my betrothed coming back with something cut off. If you lost a particularly important part, I’d have to give up one of life’s pleasures.” Wasn’t that joke a little risqué? While Encrid was thinking that, she continued without a trace of a smile.

“You couldn’t hold me without arms. Both seem intact, so I suppose all is well.” As she spoke, the Fairy’s gaze swept over his entire body. Had something changed? A Fairy’s instincts were keen. “I need to report to the Battalion Commander.”

“Go on.”

She nodded at Encrid’s words and went on her way. She appeared to be heading out on some errand. So she hadn’t come to meet him. It was a coincidence. Encrid saluted the departing Fairy and turned away. The brisk way she left made it seem certain she had business elsewhere.

‘A coincidence, just as I thought.’

Surely she hadn’t really come to welcome him. It wasn’t as though she had nothing to do. Once they entered the city, Esther disappeared.

“Do I have to come too?”

“No.”

Encrid sent Krais off as well, leaving only Pin with him. After walking in thoughtful silence, Pin suddenly spoke with a peculiar forcefulness.

“I’ve made up my mind.”

“... About what?”

“I’m giving up on getting you into bed.”

... She was still trying? “I’ll go after Audin instead.”

Pin’s eyes shone. Encrid shook his head inwardly. Never mind himself, but Audin? The man wasn’t merely devoted to religion. He wielded divine power. And what did that mean? He was a priest. Of course, priests could marry and take women to bed, but... ‘That Audin?’

As if that great bear would ever take a woman to bed. Encrid merely nodded in silence. “The irresistible Platoon Commander is out of my league.”

With that nonsense, Pin briskly went her own way.

“Weren’t you coming to make the report with me?”

Apparently not. Left alone, Encrid headed for Marcus’s office. He stepped inside and saluted. Marcus watched him in silence before speaking.

“I’ve already received word. Two conflicting accounts, however.”

Conflicting accounts?

“I’m not sure what you mean, sir.” What he didn’t know, he didn’t know. Groundless guesses would only produce needless words. He had heard that Pioneer Village would send word. Marcus propped his chin on his hand. “Pioneer Village says they intend to name their wall after you. Something about you cutting down a thousand Knolls, too.”

Were they really going to name the wall after him? He had wondered whether they would actually make it official, but the headman, Deutsch Fullman, and that craftsman fellow had all been serious. Its inclusion in an official report settled it. They were all mad. “The other account comes from a commander in Viscount Vantra’s army. He believes you killed about fifty Knolls and asks me to warn you against exaggerating your achievements. Now, Platoon Commander, which is the truth?”

Encrid answered at once.

“Believe whichever you wish, sir.” Would the man believe something simply because Encrid told him to? Did his words, his tongue, carry that much weight? This was the Battalion Commander, the officer who represented the city. He would already know the answer. Above all, his eyes had already spoken. Though his face looked drawn and faintly weary, his eyes were smiling.

“Is that so?”

“Yes, sir.” Marcus studied Encrid’s composed response. Where had a man like this come from?

“Still set on becoming a knight?”

“Yes.”

“I see.”

What was he trying to say? “There were cultists.”

Whatever else, Encrid needed to report the essential facts. Pioneer Village wasn’t far from Border Guard, and the appearance of cultists was a sensitive matter.

“Bastards.” Having stated his opinion, Marcus lowered the hand supporting his chin and took a sip of tea. The cold tea slid down his throat.

‘A thousand Knolls.’ He hadn’t cut them all down alone in one go. Wouldn’t that be difficult even for a proto knight? Marcus wasn’t certain, but that was his assessment. In any case, Encrid’s prowess could not be ignored. He had let the words of Viscount Vantra’s army go in one ear and out the other from the outset. Marcus knew Encrid. Of course, it was hard to believe that he had literally carved up a large colony. But he must have accomplished something comparable. Marcus wouldn’t have thought this way had he seen it himself, but the truth was that anyone would find the story hard to believe. That was the nature of Encrid’s feat. It wasn’t because the commander of Viscount Vantra’s army was a moron (though the man was half a moron). It genuinely was difficult to swallow. Surely the villagers had all been carried away by the joy of surviving a brush with death. After considering various things, Marcus spoke.

“Do you love this city?”

“I don’t dislike it.”

“Do you have a lover?”

“No.”

“By any chance...?”

“I like women.” Talking to someone quick on the uptake was easy and comfortable. Marcus nodded.

“Effective immediately, the Independent Platoon is promoted to a Company. You are now a Company Commander.”

“... Are you sure about that, sir?” He had returned from completing a single outside assignment. If his achievement received proper recognition, it would be no small matter. That was true. But hadn’t Marcus just said there were conflicting reports? And now he was making him a Company Commander? “My Platoon has fewer than ten members.”

“Your Company, now.”

What sort of Company had fewer than ten soldiers?

“Does that make sense, sir?”

“I’m in charge of this city. If I do it, it makes sense.” That sounded arbitrary.

“Are you insulting your superior with your eyes?”

“No, sir.”

It still sounded arbitrary.

“It’s not arbitrary.” The Battalion Commander had spoken. What could he do? Encrid could only nod. He saluted, concluded his report, and turned to leave.

“I would like you to love this city.”

“I’ll do my best, sir.” The words of a model soldier. With that, he turned and headed back to his old barracks.

“You’re back?”

How could he describe this feeling?

‘I don’t think even going back to the village where I was born would feel like this.’ That was exactly it. He felt as though he had come home. Rem was watching him, axe in hand as always. The quiet anticipation in his eyes urged Encrid on. Those eyes wouldn’t allow him even a moment’s rest. Then again, when had he ever rested as soon as he returned? The journey had been peaceful. He had rested enough along the way. Encrid looked at Rem’s face. The scratch he had left there before departing had vanished without a trace. His goal came back to him.

“Spar?”

The word came unbidden as his heart began to pound. The corners of Rem’s mouth rose. He broke into a broad grin. “Picked up some skill, have you? They say you cut down hundreds of monsters. Heard you were practically flying. Let’s see it, then. Show me how much fun you had.”

As he spoke, Rem gripped his axe in both hands and took a step. Encrid felt strange. Before, he hadn’t read the meaning of that single step before a fight. No, he hadn’t been able to. Now he knew. Right foot half a step forward. The first axe strike would come from the left. His balance, the motions preparing for the next move: Rem revealed it all naturally. He wasn’t even trying to hide his intent. Whether he knew Encrid could read it or not, he watched him with narrowed eyes. “Something’s different here.”

Encrid realized the space in front of the barracks wasn’t the one he knew. Before Rem could answer, Ragna and the others came out one by one. There wasn’t a single soldier nearby. No, now that he looked, something like a training yard had appeared, right in front of the barracks. The surrounding area had been cleared and even enclosed with a low fence. “Apparently the Company Commander had a private training yard made for us.”

Krais, who had arrived ahead of him, spoke. Quick-witted as ever, he had read Encrid’s thoughts.

Why go to the trouble? “I knocked them around a bit, and the Company Commander said we were interfering with the other soldiers’ training.”

Rem jerked a thumb behind him without relaxing his presence in the slightest. His tone was calm, as though it were no great matter. “Apparently even a barbarian isn’t allowed to murder his comrades in the barracks, so we were told to do it here.”

Ragna spoke from behind him. “I think it was the noise. These lot were making a racket. Not me.”

Jaxon added his piece, gesturing casually at the others. “Ho ho. Surely it was simply thoughtful concern that our fellow soldier brothers might see how much fun the brothers were having and try to join in.”

Audin spoke too. With them all so eager to talk, it seemed they were welcoming him back. The real reason for the training yard couldn’t possibly be what they said. In other words, these were jokes. The kind they could make now that they knew one another fairly well, having gone from the troublemaker squad to the Lunatic Platoon. “Did you beat up the others?”

Rem frowned at Encrid’s question.

“Do I look like someone who goes around beating people up whenever I’m bored?”

“... You’re the first person to leave me this speechless in a while, Rem.”

What was he talking about? He beat people up every day. Rem felt somewhat wronged. Not this time. He hadn’t beaten anyone up. He had merely been engrossed in sparring and cleared away whatever got in his way. “You really think I beat them up?”

Rem glared.

“Yeah.”

“Fuck. Correct.” Rem smirked. That was the signal. After the smile, power gathered over his foot. The direction of his shifting weight was the direction of his attack. Swordsmanship was a collection of techniques for killing people. Encrid had traveled this road by practicing and honing them. CLANG! Axe met sword. Metal rang out with a deafening crash. The sword was blunt, its edge unsharpened, but it was sturdier than any blade he had ever held. They had called it a demon sword. Now it was merely a sturdy sword. No, it came reasonably close to a masterpiece. Encrid had quickly familiarized himself with the new sword. Why? To face this axe the moment he returned. Sword and axe crossed in a game of moves and countermoves. With reflexes markedly different from before, Encrid sent his blade curving like a snake. It was one of swordsmanship’s secret techniques, using a snap of the wrist. TING-TING-TING! The sword rebounded off the axe blade and curved upward. Rem leaned his head back. At the same time, he turned his own axe blade upright and swung it in a short, sharp stroke. Encrid tilted his head aside as well. SNICK! SNICK! A scratch appeared on each of their cheeks. Rem narrowed his eyes and snorted. He was surprised, but for the moment, something else took precedence: fighting spirit and presence. His eyes gleamed with excitement. He flicked out his tongue and licked a drop of blood running toward the corner of his mouth.

“Fuck, that surprised me.”

He meant it. Every one of the onlookers’ eyes widened. Encrid and Rem were trading sword and axe blows, and Encrid was not easily driven back. Such growth could only astonish them. No, it was enough to startle heaven and earth.

That talentless man had come back this changed? Every pair of eyes said the same thing.