Chapter 253 - A Night of Inspiration

When insight came, move. Act on it at once. ["If even the smallest clue comes to mind, act on it immediately. Put it off, and you'll let it slip away. Once it slips away, it usually won't be yours anymore. Lose it, and it's gone. However small the insight, put it into motion and engrave it in your body."] He remembered it as a brief lesson, given by a brown-skinned instructor at a swordsmanship school in a gateway territory just before entering the continent's south. Encrid followed that advice. He got straight to his feet. He had returned to town today, but whatever he had done before this, whether it was time for bed or not, none of that mattered to him. When he stepped outside, the sun had already set. The sleet had stopped, leaving the ground muddy. A fire burned in the torch stand beside him, lighting his surroundings. FWOOSH. The wild horse he had rescued looked at him. Encrid passed it without a word and began exercising in front of the barracks. 'Which muscles matter when swinging a sword?' Every muscle in the body mattered. His forearms determined the strength of his grip, while a strong lower back provided the foundation for a blow that harnessed centrifugal force. 'When I cut through the flames.' His train of thought brought him to the moment he had cut through fire. A spell manifested through a scroll. It was a wondrous, mysterious thing, but all that mattered before his eyes was the fireball hurtling toward him. He recalled his movement then. He had swung his sword perpendicular to the ground. 'My back.' In his mind, the muscles of his body separated into individual parts. He blended his five senses, opening a single realm of intuitive perception, then observed his own body, turning that, too, into an extension of his training. Encrid mimed chopping firewood. That was the movement he needed now. At the same time, he observed the movement of his muscles. It was the beginning of change. The basis for improvement. Something that would become a foundation. Others watched from inside the barracks: the Lunatic Company. Dunbachel slurped her drool back into her mouth and rose. Might copying that teach her something, too? "Please don't, Sister. You'll ruin your body." This time, it was Audin who stopped her. After holding her back, he stepped forward, marveling at the remarkable man thrashing about like a lunatic under the moon. 'How is it that You grant such joy to this sinful soul?' Murmuring to his master, his father, his god, Audin stepped outside. What was Encrid attempting now? He was no longer simply doing as he was taught or told. He was setting out to find joy for himself, observing and identifying his body's shortcomings as he walked a path toward new training. How could watching that not bring joy? Though Audin had taught countless people the Isolation Technique, or lesser versions of it, none had reached this realm. Finding someone who took pleasure in the process of learning and practicing the Isolation Technique was exceedingly difficult. "Weight. Balance. Breathe in and fill your belly. It will do you no good if your body's center wavers, brother." Audin spoke at his side, and Encrid drank in his words. Yesterday's technique and today's would be very different. What had been habit and momentum until now would, from today onward, be like a ferryman finding his bearings and rowing his little boat surely in the right direction. That pleased Audin so much that he laughed heartily as he taught, loudly enough to make passing soldiers turn. Their eyes darted about in utter bewilderment. "What's he doing?"

"Didn't he only get back today?"

"Why's he dancing with rocks in his hands?"

"So they're called the Lunatic Company because they're actually insane, not because they're insanely good fighters?" Such remarks passed between them. To their eyes, this was anything but normal. Inside the quarters Audin had left, Rem quietly pulled the door shut.

"Letting all the cold air in." Dunbachel regretted the closed door. She wanted to see more of what this human called Encrid was doing. "Hey, pretend you don't know him. Don't let on that you do. Even madness ought to have limits. What's he doing at this hour? Honestly, it's embarrassing to be seen with him." No one responded to Rem. That was how they were. Unable to help herself, Dunbachel went outside. Rem made no particular attempt to stop her. In truth, he had plenty on his mind himself. 'Honestly.' What sort of human could be like that? He had gone onto the battlefield and fought, yet he wasn't excited about the absurd prowess he had displayed. He had barely listened to the cheers of those he had saved. He hadn't coveted the axe imbued with a spell. He was indifferent even to gold coins and jewels. Then he'd lost himself in meditation, his eyes glazing over and drool trickling out, before charging outside to do that crazy shit. 'Is that normal?' No. But that abnormal sight had stirred something in Rem, too. And hadn't an axe containing fire just come into his possession? It was unmistakably imbued with a spell, which made it easy for him to handle. Some rancor had inhabited the axe as well, but Encrid had erased that. Rem looked back on what he had abandoned when he left his tribe. They were things of his own that he would have to reclaim someday. As one thought led to another, he began absorbing the inspiration this man called Encrid had given him. Gripping the axe, Rem sank into his own world. There were times when conditioning the body mattered, and times when honing and manifesting what one already possessed mattered more. For Rem, this was the latter. For Ragna, it was the former. He, too, had been unable to take his eyes off Encrid. Even after Encrid went outside, he kept staring at the door, and continued after Rem shut it. He did the same when Audin went out, and when Dunbachel followed. 'Is this what it feels like?' To have your blood boil? If someone's blood actually boiled, they'd fucking die. But that was how it felt. He sat on the edge of a bed in quarters that were spacious yet felt cramped. Ragna felt his blood bubbling and boiling. His pounding heart spoke to him, too, telling him to go outside and swing his sword this instant. But he didn't. The training sword he had previously commissioned in Border Guard was woefully inadequate. 'Strength.' Ragna was a genius. He had recognized his own shortcomings long ago. He had already worked out how to train, too, but he needed the help of equipment. Things he ordinarily wouldn't even have needed. 'Look at that man.' He wanted to show Encrid to the world. How could anyone look at him and remain untroubled? That was why impatience had crept into this easygoing genius. Such was the powerful impression that had driven him down a path he hadn't wanted to take. And so Ragna intended to have his equipment made. Might a dwarven blacksmith be able to make what he wanted? Ragna yearned and wished to go further. This went beyond the urge to swing a sword. It was an overwhelming stimulant, as though he had taken poisonous mushrooms or drugs he should never have touched. His heart and mind trembled and grew hot, beyond his control. Those three weren't the only ones stirred. Behind her mask, Teresa's eyes were restless as well. What drove that man to act that way? The answer lay within her. 'The joy of fighting.' The instinct for struggle stirred her Giant blood. Teresa burst out the door as well. She felt she couldn't possibly sleep without sparring with that man right now. It would be an untimely bout under the moon, but did that matter? No, it wouldn't. And so she kicked the door open and went out. 'What's gotten into her now?' Krais looked up from examining the jewels and assorted objects. Honestly, not a single one of them was normal. Through the open door, he could see Encrid, Audin, and Dunbachel beside them. After a few words from Audin, Dunbachel had stopped in a half-squat. Whenever she wavered even slightly, Audin smiled, gripped her shoulder, and pulled. "That hurts!"

Dunbachel spoke. Pain was suffering, and suffering had the power to open mouths at once. "It's meant to hurt, Sister. So keep your posture correct."

Audin's words carried inside. Then Teresa muttered something beside them. That, Krais couldn't hear. A few nearby soldiers stole glances at the spectacle, while the wild horse watched indifferently. A certain worry occurred to Krais, but he ignored it. He currently held a costly ruby nicknamed Crimson Flame. 'If I get a proper price for this, it could fetch hundreds of gold coins or more.' Hadn't they called it some explorer's burial chamber? And said there were more tombs like it across the continent? Should he take this opportunity to become a treasure hunter? 'No.' That was work he shouldn't attempt even if he had spare lives. However gifted a swordsman might be, one wrong step onto a trap would send him straight to heaven's gates, or swimming in a river in hell. 'I should be fine sticking around here.' Encrid was someone who stirred up trouble. Stay by that Captain's side, and perhaps they'd find another burial chamber; either way, there would be more opportunities like this. Wasn't the guild in Border Guard already providing a steady income? He wanted to live buried in gold coins. His eyes turning into gold coins themselves, Krais looked outside and spoke to Jaxon beside him. "Honestly, they're all strange people, aren't they?" He said that without any self-awareness. Normally, Jaxon would have ignored him or looked away, and the question would have passed unanswered. "Are they?"

But this time, an answer came. 'What's gotten into this one now?' Krais turned his eyes toward Jaxon. A similar fire burned in his eyes, too. Cold, yet hot? Well, that was the impression he got. Jaxon, too, had been stirred. ["What do you seek from techniques meant for killing?"] It was a question his teacher had asked. Why had he asked that back then? ["You enjoy this far too much. I'm not sure I'm doing the right thing. Well, it's none of my concern, really."] His teacher's words returned once more. The man had been broken in all sorts of ways, but there had been no lie in those words. Jaxon had enjoyed learning techniques. He had enjoyed honing the skills to kill people, too. After engraving his teacher's words, his experiences, his goals and purpose within himself, he had forgotten that joy. He hadn't needed it. But now someone had forcefully dragged up a desire he had hidden beneath the abyss in his heart. 'Ah.' His heart raced as it had when he first held a blade. Urge and desire combined into a stimulant that made him want to swing his sword. What if he honed his sensory arts further? He wanted to revisit every technique and train, to go further. The desire to grow welled up inside him. All of this had happened because Encrid ran out into the moonlight. Since it was happening within each of them, the quarters remained quiet, yet the moment marked an unmistakable change. "Honestly."

Krais shook his head and returned to his work. That night of inspiration passed, and Encrid rose at dawn again the next day. Before, he had taken such pleasure in using refusal. Now he was mad with delight at practicing the Isolation Technique. Simply moving his body felt uniquely stimulating. After he finished his morning training, the lord invited them to a meal.

"Let's fill our bellies."

Encrid took everyone along. "I ought to thank you again, but what was that last night? Why were you doing that under the moon?" Last night had been unusual enough to prompt that question even from the lord, who knew Encrid. "It was a good night for training." Encrid gave a perfunctory answer. A detailed one wouldn't be understood anyway. That someone like him couldn't afford to lose even the smallest clue. That this was how he set the course of his life and pressed onward. That, because of it, his dream had now brushed his fingertips. How could he explain all that, one thing at a time? "All right, never mind."

The lord gave up trying to understand. Breakfast was a feast. There was well-roasted lamb, marinated pork ribs, steamed catfish, butter and cheese, milk and watered wine, with clear water beside them. The finest thing on the table was the bread. Its soft white crumb truly merited calling Martai the land of bread. "This is fantastic."

The meal impressed even Rem. "Where's the blond one?" the lord asked. "He likes to sleep in."

Krais answered for Encrid. They were talking about Ragna. Encrid paid it no mind, and the lord let it pass as well. Weren't they all lunatics to begin with? Ignoring a summons from a mere lord was hardly anything unusual. Resting well and eating well mattered, too. Encrid ate and drank without pause, as did the members of his unit. "You've got good appetites." The lord offered words of thanks to those who had fought for his territory. Since taking charge of the territory after serving as defense captain, he seemed to have acquired a certain gravitas. "Will you head back this afternoon?"

"No, we'll stay a little longer." When Encrid explained that he intended to try commissioning something from the dwarf, the lord nodded and said, "The townsfolk can be a little rough. Still, I'd appreciate it if you went easy on them." What did that mean? With a mouthful of catfish, Encrid nodded unconcernedly. After finishing their meal, they exercised for another while. The effects of last night's inspiration lingered. Only after washing off their sweat did they head to the town's market. Krais led the way.

"I've already learned the route."

It was his habit to survey his surroundings, escape routes included. Their first stop upon entering the market was a small tavern. Martai's market was bustling, but its streets were narrow and crowded. They saw houses under construction here and there, and a building with a rounded roof: a shrine. At the sight of it, Rem said gravely, "You should give that place a visit, Captain," but Encrid ignored him. Stepping into the tavern, Krais said, "The bread here is another specialty. Rusks, I think they call them? They put sugar and butter on them, and the taste is just..." He raised a thumb as he spoke. They were that good. This bread hadn't been part of the morning's feast, and it was every bit as excellent as Krais claimed. It was hard rather than soft. Apparently, they made it by baking bread a second time. Didn't that mean half burning it? Well, as long as it tasted good. They had rusks and thoroughly steamed duck for lunch. It did rather seem as though all they were doing was exercising, eating, and drinking. They planned to visit the dwarf once lunch was over. While they were in the middle of eating, someone kicked the tavern door open and entered. "What are you looking at? Bring me a plate of bread." Then the newcomer sat down and fixed a steady gaze on Encrid. From the look in those eyes to the attitude, it was plain to see. Anyone could tell this was someone looking for a fight.