Chapter 200 - A Wise Response

Encrid raised his head as well and spotted them. In that brief instant, a shout rang out.

"Kill them all!"

The man who appeared to lead this bundle of presents had narrow, slanted eyes. No sooner had he shouted the order than he turned and ran like hell. That caught Encrid's attention, and he gave chase.

"Handle the rest yourselves."

He tossed out the words and sprinted. Activating the Heart of the Superhuman let him imitate the dash the proto knight had shown him. And, judging by what he had just witnessed, adding precision to it might let him run faster and longer.

He put his thoughts into physical practice. The process was different now. His movements were rough at first, but his body soon took to them. He could not call them familiar, but neither were they particularly awkward.

Encrid pursued the fleeing man. Catching him was easy enough, of course, with the man bodily forcing his way through brush, trees, and brambles.

Once Encrid caught up, the man fought back. He handled his arming sword superbly. His swordsmanship focused on finesse. Within the Oniak Sword Technique's classifications, it would fall under illusion swordsmanship.

'It's not even as good as the Valen Mercenary Sword Technique.'

He mixed in several feints, using a stab as his finishing blow. If that was his approach, a double draw would serve him better. Encrid felt the Beastman called Dunbachel had more finesse.

That did not mean this man was less skilled. Dunbachel had been crude: her techniques lacked form and purpose, relying on clever deception and strength. This opponent, on the other hand, swung without hesitation, as though he had kept up his training. Not that it made him a match for Encrid.

CLINK! THUD! GACK!

Before the incoming sword could play any tricks, Encrid stepped in and struck it hard with his own. He had already seen this trick; there was no need to see it twice.

His diagonal upward swing caught the man's blade, leaving his chest open. Immediately, Encrid rammed his shoulder into the man's solar plexus, driving the air from his lungs.

Even then, the man's eyes flashed. He reached for a knife at his waist. Encrid pressed his guard sword beneath the man's chin, having drawn it as he struck with his shoulder.

Several movements combined into one, in a single breath: an imitation of Ragna's feat. As Encrid stopped there, the man let out a groan and a breath. Frozen with his hand on the knife, his left arm was twisted awkwardly behind him.

"Who are you?"

When no answer came, Encrid eased the blade forward, drawing beads of blood beneath the man's Adam's apple. Seeing no particular need to moderate the pressure, he pushed it farther as though by accident. Blood streamed down.

"Black... I'm from the Black Blade Bandits' headquarters!" the man said hastily.

"Headquarters? What for?"

"An inspection!"

A lie, his Sixth Sense told him. Encrid neither narrowed his eyes nor glared at the man.

"Just thought I'd ask: any chance you feel like telling the truth?"

"... What?"

Apparently not. Encrid dragged his guard sword across the man's throat. A new mouth opened beneath his Adam's apple. Death was inevitable.

He had neither the time nor the leisure for an interrogation. Even if he conducted one, there was unlikely to be any remarkable information to gain. The situation was already clear. What did Black Blade's headquarters matter?

He shoved the man away to avoid the gushing blood, then turned. When he returned after the killing, the situation was plain to see. His companions had fought and won.

Naturally, victory left bodies strewn about. Corpses littered the area. Three men had survived and been set off to one side.

Encrid proceeded to thoroughly search the dead bandits, as did Rem and Ragna. If there was anything worth taking, wouldn't leaving it here be a waste?

They collected a wrist-mounted arrow launcher, poisoned sand, a half-eaten loaf, a few silver and copper coins, assorted small blades, and more. Every weapon the men had held could be turned into Krona.

The trouble was, they seemed short of hands to carry it all. Stuffing it into a single backpack would make for a grueling journey home. The weight would be considerable. It would not all fit, either.

"You carry it."

"You want to die?"

Ragna and Rem had recognized the problem too, judging by their bickering.

"Enough."

After stopping them, Encrid looked at the three bandits they had deliberately spared. He casually asked one of them a question.

"So. Your main force was wiped out?"

Of the three bandits, one was crying without a clue what was going on. The other two had darting eyes that betrayed how quickly they read a situation. Three mouths. Plenty to do the talking.

"Yes, sir. It's all over. Looked back and saw it burning away. They must've set fire to it."

He was sweating profusely as he spoke. The weather was reasonably humid, and rain seemed likely today or tomorrow.

'It probably won't spread into a major fire.'

Encrid had not expected such a full-scale raid, but he knew whose blade had struck: the Border Guard. They would not make a mess of things by using fire carelessly.

"What about you?"

"The man from headquarters said we'd all be finished at this rate, that some of us had to survive to deliver the news..."

He trailed off. It sounded as though they had bolted without even fighting. Their weapons were bloodless, and they were drenched only in sweat. It was obvious enough.

One further guess: these were probably all the survivors. Any handful who had scattered elsewhere into the forest would end up a meal for monsters.

"You did well to get this far."

"There's a shortcut!"

The two quick-witted men spoke one after the other without pausing for breath.

The Black Blade Bandits made their nests in the mountains, weathering monster attacks. Had they ridden horses out into the wilderness, they would have been mounted bandits; had they taken ships to sea, pirates.

But there was a more famous organization at sea, and no half-baked mounted bandit gang could survive on the vast eastern plains. In practice, Black Blade could be called the largest bandit organization inland.

And if these men had lived here all this time, they would know plenty of routes.

"I know these roads inside out!"

Seeing Encrid's interest in the route, another bandit hurried to speak.

"That Beastman bitch doesn't know a thing! Stupid bitch still thinks she's some sort of mercenary..."

Encrid disregarded the useless rambling.

"Let's talk back in the city."

He would simply hand them over to the city authorities. They could decide whether to execute them or lock them up and flog them.

"Ah."

One bandit let out a brief groan. He knew that being dragged back like this would not bring his story to a happy ending.

"P-please."

The plea was so desperate that Encrid decided to be generous.

"Shall I end it for you here?"

The bandit's eyes darted wildly.

"No, sir."

They finished looting. Without any spare backpacks, they tore up some of the dead men's clothes, tied them together, and dumped everything they had collected inside, along with the weapons. Then came the digging.

"You dig too."

Amid all this, Ragna cut the cord around Dunbachel's wrists. Their agreement had only extended this far in the first place. They had promised to release her once the job was done. Encrid did not spare the Beastman any attention.

By the time the three remaining bandits had dug the holes and buried the bodies, the sun had set. Make camp? No, that hardly seemed necessary.

"Let's march through the night."

"Let's."

"All right."

With Rem and Ragna in agreement, they set off home. They loaded their belongings onto the carriage they found along the way. With no horses, however, the three criminals pulled it instead. By now, it really ought to be called a man-drawn carriage rather than a horse-drawn one.

RUMBLE, RUMBLE.

The three criminals panted as they hauled the carriage over rough roads in the dead of night. Dunbachel pushed from behind.

Encrid thought it was about time the Beastman woman could leave. She lacked the peculiar sinister air of the other bandits. Frankly, her pure hunger for life had been quite impressive.

Not that it changed anything. He had agreed to let her go and intended to do so. That was all. He gave the Beastman named Dunbachel no more thought than that.

There was something more pressing: a question for Marcus once he returned to the unit.

The return journey took twice as long as the trip out. They had lost the horses and gained more baggage. As they reached the city gates, a shout rang out.

"Who goes there?"

A soldier had called down from the gallery. It did not end with the shout; three archers were aiming arrows at them. They were several times more on edge than usual.

"Encrid, Company Commander of the Independent Company."

After he identified himself, a torch wavered overhead and a voice called down.

"Is that you?"

It was Vengeance. Soon the postern beside the main gate opened. The carriage would not fit through, so they began unloading everything. Vengeance came down as they worked.

"You... What is all this? Who did you raid? Have you been robbing people?"

"Not robbery. Just fighting back against robbers."

The victor took the spoils. That was common sense. It did seem like rather a lot of spoils, but that hardly made his words untrue. Vengeance tilted his head at Encrid's reply.

This was no time to explain everything that had happened.

"Why are you all so on edge?" Encrid asked.

He had been away from the city for only a full day. Dawn was approaching, so barely a day had passed, yet a strange tension hung over the city.

"You're going straight to the Battalion Commander, aren't you? Get the details inside."

Vengeance offered no detailed explanation either. His attitude suggested that since Encrid would not tell him anything, he would return the favor.

"Petty bastard."

Encrid chuckled and went inside. Rem and Ragna followed close behind him. On the way in, Rem handed over the three bandits.

"They're your problem now."

"Who are they?"

"Black Blade Bandits."

Why was that name coming up here? While Vengeance blinked, the white-haired Beastman trailed after Rem and Ragna. Was it all right to let her go? No one had said anything, so it must be.

After seeing Encrid's party off, Vengeance questioned his subordinate in a measured, solemn tone.

"Am I petty?"

The subordinate swallowed. Honesty was a virtue, but sometimes a white lie was the greater virtue.

"No, sir. You're big-hearted... I mean, ordinary."

Even so, he could not bring himself to say big-hearted. That was the last remnant of his conscience. Hadn't Vengeance's petty, small-minded nature been obvious ever since he had started resenting Company Commander Encrid over his own lack of popularity with women?

"Right? I'm not that petty, am I?"

The subordinate nodded. It was a wise response.

* * *

Standing before the Battalion Commander, Encrid asked the question he had been carrying with him.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Surely his knowing would not have caused any trouble. If anything, might it not have allowed him to act more proactively? That was the thought behind his question.

Marcus widened his eyes, as though wondering why Encrid did not know the answer. Then he spoke.

"Company Commander Encrid, you can't act."

Had he been watching Encrid's acting all this time? No, probably not. He was likely judging by Encrid's usual manner and speech. Yet the moment he heard it, Encrid inwardly conceded the point despite himself.

'To deceive the enemy, deceive your allies first.'

A basic strategy.

"What if I'd ended up in danger?"

"Didn't you say you were taking Rem and Ragna?"

A brief silence fell. True. It had not been all that dangerous.

"Why is the city so tense?"

Encrid smoothly changed the subject. The Fairy Company Commander, who had taken a seat at some point, answered.

"Scouts twice, four attempts by suspected spies to scale the walls, and three attempts to pass through the gates in disguise."

These had not all happened in a single day. She was summarizing the incidents to date.

"Who?"

"Do I need to tell you?"

At the Fairy Company Commander's question, Encrid stopped playing the fool and answered.

"Martai."

Marcus responded.

"Yes. Martai has declared war."

Was the timing astonishing? No. They had likely seized the initiative in the moment they had been waiting for, before it was too late.

In just one full day, the greatest of upheavals had struck the city. War, yet again. This time it was not a war against another country, but between cities. Martai against Border Guard.

Now the central government could not send reinforcements even if it had the troops to spare. A justification could always be manufactured, and Martai could not be populated entirely by idiots. They would already have sent a reasonably plausible one.

"They sent forged documents claiming Border Guard has belonged to Martai since the previous generation."

Marcus smiled as he spoke, irritation at their absurd pretext mixed into the smile.

"So we sent them the same thing."

The Fairy Company Commander said they had repaid them in kind: they had likewise forged documents claiming Martai belonged to them and sent them off.

They might as well call it the War of Forged Official Documents. A wise response, Encrid thought. He was just beginning to wonder why they were explaining it all to him in such detail when Marcus spoke.

"I look forward to seeing you on the battlefield."

The anticipation in his eyes went beyond earnestness. How to put it? It was almost as though he were looking at an idol. Encrid did not find the gaze particularly unpleasant.

"Let's have some fun."

The Fairy Company Commander added one of her usual Fairy jokes.

"Shall we call it the Honeymoon War?"

"Are you getting married again, Battalion Commander?"

Not to be outdone, Encrid returned fire in human fashion. Marcus laughed heartily.

A schemer hid behind that man's Warmonger epithet. He seemed unafraid of the coming war. That meant he had something he trusted in. Encrid was a little curious what it was.

After reporting everything that had happened, Encrid returned and was about to enter the barracks.

"Aren't you leaving?"

Dunbachel, who had been trailing him, stopped. She stood motionless in front of the barracks. Had no one stopped her? War was imminent, and discipline was a shambles.

Encrid looked at her with that thought. Dunbachel made up her mind and spoke. Her voice had the low, husky quality characteristic of Beastmen, but anyone hearing it would have known it belonged to a woman.

"I have something to say."