Chapter 21 - Sparring and Review

CRACK. Thunder suddenly cracked across the clear sky, and rain began to patter down. "Ah, that killed the mood."

"Hmm." Rem and Ragna, who had been getting worked up, turned away, avoiding each other's eyes. That ended the fight. Both retreated into the barracks out of the rain. Rain, when the sky had been so clear. The weather had gone mad. It was late autumn, hardly the season for sudden showers. The skies were stingy with rain this time of year. A shower without a single dark cloud was especially rare. "Rain out of nowhere," Krais said, watching the lightning and rain from the clear sky. Encrid looked up with him and thought back over what had happened in his absence. As expected, the curse was bullshit. "Next you'll be calling this rain a curse."

"Maybe it is. Anyway, in just three days, Bo fell and broke his nose, Jack broke his arm, and Rotten got bitten by a snake." All three were scouts. Bo was nimble enough to turn somersaults, but if he was doing that in armor, he was lucky a broken nose was all he got. Jack was a foulmouthed soldier who routinely overestimated his skill with a spear. He had reportedly broken his arm while sparring. Encrid would have bet money his opponent had done it on purpose. Lastly, Rotten was careless for a scout. This wasn't the season when snakes were common, but certain parts of the grasslands teemed with them. All three mishaps were perfectly understandable. "And those three aren't the only ones. Someone burned their hand on a pot, too."

Big-eyes sounded excited. Would he be talking like this if he really believed it was a curse? It was just something to gossip about. "There was news that the Medical Barracks burned down, too. Oh, you were there, Squad Leader. Didn't you hear anything?" So the barracks burning down was part of the curse, too?

"Yeah, they did. Burned nicely." Krais stopped on his way into the barracks and whipped his head around.

"You saw it yourself? Did the flames really just flare up out of nowhere? I heard a spy got in." Yeah, no.

'I did it.'

Encrid had started the fire. And a spy? There had been an assassination attempt, but whether the attacker was an enemy soldier was another question. He still didn't know who Krang was, but the man seemed to be at least a noble's illegitimate son. Perhaps the assassin was from their own side. As for the curse, what was there to say? Command would soon crack down on the rumors. No commander would welcome that sort of talk circulating among the troops. "Well? Did you see anything?"

Big-eyes pressed him. Encrid met those large eyes for a moment and considered. Krais was far too loose-lipped to be told any of this. Even if he weren't, there was no reason to tell him. Encrid had agreed to keep quiet, and he would. "It was the barracks I was in that burned down."

"Huh?"

"You didn't know?"

"Not at all. So enemy soldiers didn't attack? It really just caught fire?" "The sentry dozed off, and the wind knocked over a torch stand. There happened to be a can of oil beside it, left there to refill it. The fallen torch set the tent alight, and whoosh."

Encrid closed his fist, then spread his fingers to mime flames spreading. "So it was nothing much."

"Doesn't it occur to you that I nearly died?"

"You're standing here alive and well." Was that supposed to be concern, or what?

"If you're not alive and well, does that make you a ghost, Squad Leader?"

Rem chimed in from behind and snickered. Did this bastard call that a joke? "And the Lord said, let the restless spirits rest in peace."

Now the squad's religious zealot was performing a verbal exorcism. Encrid thought those would have been deeply uncomfortable words to hear if he really were a ghost. "Only singed my hair a little."

The ends of his bangs had been scorched, so he'd cut them. His rough work with the knife showed. "It's black already. Can't tell even if it burns."

Rem kept snickering as he spoke.

"Then is your hair a pile of ashes?"

Rem's hair was gray.

"Oh! How'd you know? My hair's a pile of ashes!" Did this bastard really find this funny? He kept going even though he was the only one in the barracks laughing. It must truly have been a passing shower; the rain soon stopped. Their chat was brief. Once the rain let up, Krais left, saying he had business to attend to. Encrid lay down in his spot and fell asleep to the drip of rainwater from the edge of the tent. It was a blissful nap. When he woke after sleeping a while, his headache was completely gone. So was his fatigue. He stood and twisted his waist from side to side. There wasn't a trace of pain in his side. Good. He felt refreshed. The barracks were empty. Listening closely, he heard people passing outside and a soldier grumbling in the neighboring barracks.

"What's with this fucking rain, starting and stopping?" Encrid pushed the tent flap aside and stepped outside. His squad members were scattered in front of the barracks, enjoying their personal time. Naturally, Jaxon and Krais were nowhere to be seen. The rest were there. He approached Rem, who was scribbling something in the damp ground.

"You look like you've got nothing to do."

"Do I? You're right. I was just wondering whose skull to crack to pass the time." Picking fights with nearby squad members using his nasty tongue was one of Rem's specialties. Beating them up when they came at him was one of his hobbies. He'd done it less since Encrid arrived, but he hadn't given it up entirely. "Then spar with me."

"Spar?"

"That's right. Spar." Rem nodded readily. This was hardly the first time. Encrid asking to spar was an everyday occurrence.

"Sure." They headed for the clearing behind the barracks. Thanks to the shitty weather, no one was around. They wouldn't have cared even if someone had been. Encrid faced Rem from ten paces away. Grinning, Rem rolled his wrist. With each turn, the axe blade he sharpened at every opportunity reflected the clear sunlight. Apparently the rain had been starting and stopping, but now the sky was perfectly clear. The air felt damp rather than dry, and the smell of earth filled his nose. The ground wasn't muddy, though. The soil was soft and moist without giving way beneath his feet. Just enough cloud veiled the sun to keep it from dazzling their eyes. "Fine day for a fight."

"Is it?"

Encrid answered and awakened the heart of the beast. Throughout the repeated days, he had tried not to waste his time. That included exercising his body and training his hearing, but it also included using his head. 'The Valen Mercenary Sword Technique won't work.'

He knew that from fighting Rem countless times while learning to stab. Against Rem, the Valen Mercenary Sword Technique was useless. Then what should he do? His own weapons, the pressure his opponent exerted, all his experience so far. Taking everything into account, what attack could land an effective hit? How could he create that hit? He had pondered those questions again and again. Now it was time to test his answer. Rem slid a foot forward and planted it firmly, without hesitation. A confident step, Encrid thought. "Am I supposed to come at you first?"

Instead of answering, Encrid stole the rhythm of his opponent's breathing. In and out. Rem's breaths were long and slow. Halfway through one long exhalation, Encrid closed the distance in a single rush, driving off his rear foot. As he closed in— WHOOSH! He swung his sword in a horizontal slash. Rem bent backward, dodging as though reclining. It was a feat only possible because he had judged the exact reach of the slash. Even half bent backward, his eyes never left Encrid. Seeing that, Encrid reflexively drew his sword back to guard his front. WHOOSH.

CLANG! The axe had already come flying in and struck his blade. The impact wasn't especially strong. However powerful Rem was, he was still swinging while bent backward. From that same position—

WHOOSH! WHOOSH!

The axe came at him again and again. CLANG! CLANG! CLAAANG! Gripping his sword tightly in both hands, Encrid blocked and blocked again. If Rem paused even once, he meant to reset his stance and attack, but Rem never stopped. Encrid felt as though he stood beneath a guillotine that kept falling. The shower of axe blows ended as Rem straightened fully. A brief opening appeared, but Encrid neither retreated nor corrected his stance. Now upright, Rem drew his arm back. Seeing it, rather than step back and steady his breathing, Encrid— THUD! He stepped forward and unleashed the stab he had repeated countless times. The blade shot out directly from his guard. He committed himself to driving it home. Everything happened in an instant. He stabbed, and just as the point reached Rem's waist, blue sky and Rem's face tumbled past each other in his vision.

'Huh?'

Rem's face was upside down. WHOOSH. The instant he stabbed, Rem had kicked his ankle. It was a split-second decision. The sword point sliced through empty air. Instead of swinging his axe, Rem let it go, caught Encrid by the collar, and threw him aside. "Urgh!"

Rolling to the side, Encrid quickly realized how he'd been beaten. A feint. He'd been watching only for the moment Rem drew his axe back, and Rem had used that against him. "Whew."

Sprawled on the ground, Encrid shook his head inwardly. What monstrous strength. He considered himself no easy man to best in strength, but throwing someone with one hand? Even if he was relatively light without his equipment, that deserved to be called superhuman strength. He sat up and lifted his head to look at Rem. There was a strange expression on his face. Usually, Rem smiled throughout their sparring. Not now. His mouth was a straight, composed line. He wasn't smiling. "Tsk. Been eating something good behind my back?"

Rem asked with a serious face. On reflection, the reaction was only natural. Rem wouldn't remember helping him practice his stab. After all, on the iteration when Encrid had finally escaped that first "today," he'd only made Rem handle meal duty. "I've thought this before, but your skills seem to have jumped up all of a sudden. That stab especially. Good work. Not bad at all."

"Really?"

"Really. I don't hand out empty compliments."

"Sure you don't." This from a man who constantly spouted nonsense and called it joking.

"I'm serious."

"All right. Then let's do a Review."

"... You really never change, Squad Leader. How can a man stay so much the same?" A Review after sparring. That, too, was routine. Even when there was nothing to gain, Encrid dogged his sparring partners. All to learn, master, and hone even the smallest thing. Often, his opponents had nothing to say. He had to improve at least a little before they could offer any advice. That was how it had been until now. That was why Rem would say things like, ["Try growing a little backbone,"] after they sparred. Meaningless, worthless advice? No. Rem knew how those without talent ended up. He had told Encrid what he needed to avoid dying. For the same reason, he had passed on the heart of the beast. But now? Things had changed, and changed a great deal. The fact that this single spar had given him so much to say was proof enough. "First off, you made it far too obvious you were waiting for my axe swing. Sure, I'm hard to fool, but shouldn't you at least try?"

Rem began. Encrid nodded, giving him his full attention, as always. Rem gave a small chuckle at the sight. He went straight to the heart of the matter, leaving the finer details for later. That was his way. Encrid listened closely to every single word.

* * *

There was no fighting for three days. During that time, Encrid sparred with Rem three more times. "You ought to train your lower body. You're oddly out of balance."

For all the nonsense he usually spouted, Rem had a knack for seeing straight to the heart of things. Encrid turned those words over and over in his mind. Afterward, he threw himself into training again, even when everyone else was resting. Personal time was when people did their own things. Some wrote letters. Other soldiers devoted themselves to rest. Aside from eating and sleeping, Encrid poured everything into practice and training. An onlooker might call him relentless, but the man himself was utterly at peace. Nothing gave him greater satisfaction than the daily improvement in his skills. Thanks to that, even the mounting pain of physical conditioning brought him no distress. "What a relentless bastard. Straight back from the Medical Barracks, and he's at it again."

"He'd been quiet lately. Looks like he's fired up again."

"If I trained like that, I'd have at least come close to being a knight by now."

"Huh? Why are you shitting out of your mouth?" He worked his body while focusing on his hearing. When his muscles screamed, concentrating on sound would ease the pain. Encrid heard the idle chatter of two soldiers in another barracks. Third Squad. They belonged to the same platoon, but he felt distant from them. Then he tried pushing his hearing farther. He listened to clothing rustling behind him and tried to guess the movements producing it. He also tried identifying people by their footsteps. He was wrong five times out of ten, but he could still recognize familiar steps. Light and quick, with a lively sound as they struck the dirt.

'Big-eyes.'

He was right. "Training again? You're frightening. Really frightening."

Krais approached as he spoke. Encrid ignored him. As he repeatedly lowered himself into a half squat and rose, his legs began to shake. Sweat trickled through his hair and beaded at the tips of his eyebrows. The fickle skies had settled, returning to the usual weather with its dry winds. Sweating enough to soak himself on a day like this would hardly look normal. All the more so here, on a battlefield. Training somewhere a fight could break out at any time. Even so, everyone took it in stride. Encrid hadn't started doing this yesterday. This was their everyday life. "Doesn't that wear you out? How do you manage it every day?"

Krais settled down to one side as he spoke and chewed on a flat strip of jerky. Sweat ran down Encrid's forehead, slipped past the tip of his nose, and dripped to the ground. A heavy ache rose from his thighs. His muscles trembled, and nausea welled up. He had reached his limit. Drenched in sweat, he sank to the ground. He closed his eyes where he sat, and the cool breeze brushed his damp forehead and ears. Today's training was done. As he savored the breeze with that thought, he heard strong, steady footsteps approaching. The footsteps stopped behind him.

"Working hard as ever." He tilted his head back to look. The newcomer blocked the sunlight, casting a long shadow over Encrid's face. With the light behind the man, he couldn't see his face clearly, but he could make out a thick beard. "Shall we have a word?"

It was the Fourth Platoon Commander.