Chapter 218 - Make Them Come to You Instead

He had never considered it, which meant he had never expected it. More to the point, it was something he did not want.

'Me, a battalion commander?'

Frankly, keeping Rem, the other men, and Dunbachel the Beastman in line was already a nuisance. He would rather swing his sword one more time. A natural urge, a natural desire.

The dream that had always been beyond his reach was almost brushing his fingertips. Anyone would desperately curl and straighten those fingers, pull and stretch, trying to draw that dream closer. That was where he stood now. He wanted to lose himself in desire, not responsibility.

And now he was supposed to oversee an entire city? Perhaps he would welcome such work someday, but not now. His first thought was that even looking for reasons seemed ridiculous.

What would happen if he somehow became battalion commander? He could vividly imagine what Rem would say.

"Battalion commaaaander? Then I'll be a company commander. Give me my men."

Then he would drill dozens of soldiers into the ground until they earned an honorable discharge. They would all be too busy running away. Come to think of it, entrusting Dunbachel to Rem might have been a mistake. Not that Encrid intended to give her special care at this point.

So his answer was settled. He did not want it now.

"No, thank you."

His thoughts had been lengthy, but they passed quickly. His answer came so fast that he might as well have given it no thought at all. The question had barely left Marcus's mouth.

"Thought as much."

Marcus nodded as though he had expected it. He seemed to have no regrets, either. Still, he added,

"Let's say I asked twice more, for three offers in total. With that understood, you can tell me anytime you change your mind."

"Understood."

Encrid answered casually once more.

"Now, let's hear your reasons. Surely I ought to know why you turned me down?"

Marcus interlaced his fingers and rested his chin on them. It seemed to be a habit; Encrid had seen the pose often. Nothing in his manner suggested any particular curiosity, but Encrid answered. It was only proper to answer a question, wasn't it? Especially one from a superior.

Standing straight before the table, he spoke.

"The First Company Commander wouldn't accept it."

For a start, there would be opposition within the ranks. The First Company Commander had originally been the likeliest successor. With the border defense captain taking charge of Martai, shouldn't this position go to him? Even if Encrid forced him to submit, having an immediate subordinate harboring ill will could hardly end well.

"Political insight, too."

Marcus kept his chin on his interlaced fingers. That alone apparently wasn't enough, because he asked again,

"Any other reasons?"

"I don't need the position."

"... Not needing this position is a new one. Especially since it doesn't sound like an excuse."

Marcus lowered his hands and leaned back in his chair. Now he seemed interested. Encrid knew the man had more than a few tricks up his sleeve. That posed no problem, though, so he could continue freely.

He truly did not need it. To become a knight, skill came first. Fighting ability took priority; the qualities of a commander could wait. Of course, if those qualities became an issue, if he needed them, he would learn and make them his own. Hadn't he always learned whatever he needed by putting himself through hell, risking his life and fucking dying for it?

But he had no particular need for them now. Once again, he had felt his lack of skill. No, thirst was a better word than inadequacy. Zimmer's stab and everything that had come before it: there was so much to learn and master. He had even gained an insight from Battalion Commander Marcus's strategy. He still had a long, long way to go.

He wanted to walk that road. The road toward his faded dream. That was why he wanted to put responsibility off. Those were his true feelings, ones he had only just recognized himself. A few words had given him a fresh look at where he stood. Even your own heart needed digging into before you could understand it.

"My swordsmanship still isn't good enough," Encrid answered.

"If your skills aren't good enough, most of the soldiers might as well go off and die."

Then Marcus said he understood and lightly clapped his hands.

"Well, it's hard to put a purse of Krona into the hands of a man who doesn't want it."

Having muttered that, Marcus asked about the recent situation in the surrounding region instead of dismissing him. Encrid answered as though it were obvious.

"Things around us seem likely to keep getting worse. Don't they?"

He was speaking on instinct, but such problems were indeed emerging. They simply hadn't become visible yet, with only a few days having passed since the battle. Above all, they had wrapped it up in a flash.

What had looked likely to become a succession of drawn-out sieges had been shattered by strategy. First by concealing Encrid, then by opening Martai's gate. Those moves had broken the enemy soldiers' and commanders' morale, bringing a swift surrender. Had they shown their full strength from the beginning, they might have shed far more blood than expected.

In any case, Marcus knew the regional situation as well. The larger and more powerful a city grew, the more problems it attracted. Nor could they expect much help from the central government in their current circumstances.

The situation had changed, yet they had withdrawn the Border Guard from Border Guard, weakening their own strength. They had also picked a fight with Black Blade, and swallowing Martai had made them a threat to neighboring nobles. Encrid himself had slaughtered Cultists, too.

"That's why I offered you battalion command."

"What would change if I took it?"

Was he asking because he genuinely didn't know?

"Having an absurdly strong commander makes an impression."

That seemed separate from having to command an entire city.

"And frankly, the First Company Commander wouldn't complain, either," Marcus added.

You only challenged someone if you stood a chance. This man was an outright monster. The First Company Commander, rebelling? Not a chance. Even if he privately resented it, he would have every reason to accept it outwardly.

That was Marcus's view, but Encrid disagreed. Nothing soured people more than losing something that had been earmarked for them, or that they had been certain was theirs.

Their opinions differed, but it wouldn't be a problem. Encrid would not accept, and Marcus had no actual intention of handing it over. Privately, Marcus thought it would be more interesting to give him something even greater. Besides, once he became a knight, territory would come naturally.

'When did I start believing this fellow would become a knight?'

Setting those thoughts apart, Marcus delivered the words he had prepared.

"Then at least take the post of training company commander."

From here on, Marcus was acting on his own authority. The Border Guard had left, but simply expanding the Lunatic Company to fill the gap would be difficult. Well, he would try, but...

["I suggest you keep your expectations low."]

Hadn't the Fairy Company Commander said that? Something about Rem being an expert at tormenting people? And eight or nine out of ten who joined would probably desert? Hence this next scheme.

'A sense of belonging, status, a purpose, and work to do.'

Encrid already threw himself into training with delight. Teaching seemed a good fit. And so a new post, training company commander, came into being.

"Yes, understood."

Encrid readily accepted this one. Marcus found that unexpected, but Encrid had been thinking along similar lines. What was the best way to keep the city safe? Raise the overall quality of its troops. And how could they do that?

'Put them through their paces.'

He wouldn't ask them to do as much as he did, but increasing their training time and making them work, even under compulsion, would surely improve their skills. Wasn't he living proof?

Every soldier serving under Border Guard's command would have recoiled in horror at the news. But only Marcus and Encrid were present.

"Then I'll be going."

"Very well."

Encrid saluted and withdrew. His new position was one thing, but the victory celebration came first. His contributions to the battle would be recognized there. The rest could wait until afterward.

Until then, he intended to hone what he had newly seen and learned. As always, time was more precious than gold. Especially when he hadn't encountered a wall lately.

'Is the ferryman being lazy?'

Had the ferryman heard that thought, he would have been too dumbfounded even to laugh.

Two more days passed, and the victory celebration began.

"Oh! A glorious battle! A battle that swallowed Martai and heralded the birth of this region's rising star, its new hero!"

This battle had carried Encrid's name well beyond city-level fame in a single leap. Had announcing his name in the middle of the battlefield helped? No one knew. It might have had an effect, or it might not. There was truly no way to tell.

As everyone ate, drank, chattered, and cheered at the top of their lungs, Encrid's mind was elsewhere.

'Experience.'

Absorbing his past experience was all well and good, but he considered that stagnation. Beyond digesting what he already had, he had begun to want something else. Did that mean he needed an adventure? Should he leave this place in search of new patterns, new experiences?

The insight Marcus's strategy had given him stirred through his mind again.

"What's got you thinking so hard?"

Rem asked from beside him, pumpkin pie in one hand and distilled liquor in the other. The sharp smell of alcohol stung Encrid's nose. It was strong stuff. Rem seemed to be happily soaking his stomach in it.

Encrid sat on a chair beside a market stall. The drinking had begun in broad daylight. All the while, soldiers and townspeople, young and old alike, kept stealing glances at him. He was the hero of this battle, after all.

Of course, Rem and the other members of the Lunatic Company drew just as much attention, but they had never cared about other people's stares. Somewhere along the way, Jaxon had disappeared. Perhaps he'd gone to the red-light district again.

"I was wondering how many good fighters I'd meet if I wandered the continent."

It was an honest answer. Rem chuckled.

"I've done my share of wandering, and it ain't easy. Follow a rumor about some supposedly good fighter, and most of the time he's all talk."

"That's true."

Ragna had appeared on Encrid's other side at some point and voiced his agreement. His cheeks were flushed, as though he had had a few drinks, but he didn't look drunk. He probably hadn't had much. Hadn't he said he didn't particularly enjoy drinking? At any rate, from the way they spoke, both men had clearly traveled a fair bit of the continent.

"Really?"

Encrid asked, feeling a strange thirst. What was it? A desire to fight more? It wasn't that simple. Was he desperate to hone his swordsmanship? That didn't feel right, either.

Was it some compulsion born of not repeating today? Was he waiting for repeated deaths? To Encrid, repeating today, the walls, the ferryman: all those were separate matters.

He had jokingly blamed the ferryman to himself, but whether today repeated or not made no difference. He had come this far by steadily pressing onward. The repetition of today was merely a tool he had used along the way. He believed that, too, had come to dwell within him through a succession of coincidences.

So this thirst was something else. Something entirely different. It had arisen after he understood the form of the Righteous Sword Technique. It was simply the desire to test himself against people scattered across the vast continent. A competitive drive. A seething urge to contend, if you liked.

'Fight and experience.'

That was the path to making his patched-up dream whole. Until now, he had always been led along whenever he learned something new. This time was different.

Watching Marcus's strategy, he had identified what he lacked. Assimilate his previous experience while building a tower of new experiences. A milestone he had recognized and set for himself.

"Shall I gather rumors of good fighters, swordsmen or otherwise?"

It was bald Gilfin. When had he arrived? He, too, seemed to have drunk quite a bit, yet maintained a proper bearing. He wasn't the sort to slip up.

His words set Encrid thinking. What if he received that list? Would he have to leave then? Leave the city behind? It warranted some thought.

Krais, who had been watching quietly, abruptly asked,

"Captain, there's a much easier way. I don't know why you're talking about adventures and becoming a wanderer."

"What're you on about, Big-eyes?"

Rem asked, sipping his liquor. And indeed, our wide-eyed soldier had quite a head on his shoulders. The brain inside it had to be as impressive as those enormous eyes.

"This battle has spread your name far and wide, and we have plenty of people in Martai and Pioneer Village who can speak for us. That makes it simple. Instead of going to them, make them come to you."

Krais's few words were perfectly apt, a veritable thunderbolt of insight. Was Encrid the only one with a competitive streak? Anyone who could fight worth a damn would have one.

"That sounds promising, Brother Big-eyes."

Audin agreed, and Dunbachel nodded beside him.

"Plenty of mercenaries wander around to hone their swordsmanship," she said.

It was true.

"How about the War-Ending Soldier, the man who ended the battle? That ought to bring them flocking. Beat them each time, and more rumors will spread. If you want, you could fight until you die, until you're sick of it. Well, if this place becomes a battlefield, we'd get a lot fewer visitors."

"Krais, you handle it."

Encrid was impressed. So he gave Krais the most fitting reward: a purse of Krona. One purse he had stashed away with thoughts of commissioning new armor passed into Krais's hands.

"Oh!"

He snatched it as though intercepting a flying dagger. His hands were that quick.

"Thank you."

Krais grinned. Encrid was inwardly satisfied, too.

"Make sure you spread the word."

"Yes, leave it to me!"

So this was a deal that left everyone happy. Rem chuckled, too. All in all, it was a decent victory celebration.

As time passed, several soldiers approached and said they wanted to join the Lunatic Company.

"I want to go crazy, too!"

"I want to be a lunatic!"

"I'm already crazy!"

Why every man seeking a transfer talked like that was a mystery. Rem, perhaps half drunk, took the initiative and said yes, he'd take them all. Then he glanced at Encrid to gauge his reaction and spoke.

"We're a bit short on numbers for a company, ain't we?"

That was true. So they agreed that all the volunteers would come to the Lunatic Company if they still meant it once they sobered up. It wouldn't quite be a test, but if they were sincere, their abilities would at least get a look.

There was plenty of other talk about what an honor it had been, the birth of a hero, and so on. One thing was certain: Encrid was the star of this party.

"Wouldn't you like marmalade for life? All free, of course."

Now and then, attractive women who traded in the city tried to tempt him as well.

"No!"

One young man from the city cried out in anguish at the sight. Even without that cry, Encrid had no intention of doing anything with the marmalade girl. Certainly not after seeing a man looking as though his world had collapsed.

"I'll pay the full price."

"Tch."

Some women in the market were bold; others flirted more subtly. But then someone appeared who would put an end to all this while making matters more complicated.

"His Excellency the Count!"

The attendant's announcement rang through the celebration.