Chapter 280 - Black Blade Is Good at Scheming (2)

Why did Marcus have to answer the central government's summons?

"Those fucking bastards in my family should have sheltered me, shielded me at a time like this. Instead, they made me the scapegoat. Fucking politicians."

Those were Marcus's words. It briefly occurred to Encrid that Marcus was insulting himself, but this was hardly the time to point that out.

"Breeding warhorses and training archers in parts of Border Guard and beyond could look like signs of rebellion to the central government. Why am I gathering strength in the north, especially as a noble from one of the capital's distinguished families?"

"A distinguished family?"

"Mine."

Encrid did not bother asking which family that was. The gist was this: Marcus had intended to reorganize the north around Border Guard. But the central government's response had been, "What exactly are you gathering strength for up there?"

"To take good care of the north," he had answered.

"Doesn't look that way to us. Come to the capital and let's talk. Besides, isn't your family supposed to protect the capital? Come here. We'll give you a post in the central government."

"And if I refuse?"

"Oh? So you really are plotting a rebellion? You're refusing?"

"I'm telling you, it's not a rebellion."

"Then come to the capital. We can talk here. Stop harassing the neighboring territory. You say you're only defending yourselves anyway, don't you? Then they won't bother you either."

"If I believe that and leave, they'll attack. I'll come once I've settled this."

"So it is a rebellion. You're a fucking traitor."

"No, I'm not!"

"Then come."

Strip away the flowery language, titles, and extraneous details, and that was essentially the exchange. Marcus had resisted, to no avail. He was being forcibly recalled to the capital.

"This won't be the end of it. Those bandit bastards will be behind this."

So said Marcus, the born politician. But why had he come all this way to tell Encrid?

Before Encrid could voice that question, Marcus spoke. He pushed away from the pillar he had been leaning against and stood straight, his back rigid as though preparing to salute. For an instant, he seemed to draw in all the air around him. That was how he steadied his breathing.

"Help Graham defend the territory."

It was not an order. It was a request. That was how it sounded to Encrid.

"Yes."

So he answered. Looking somewhat deflated, Marcus spoke again.

"... All that worrying for nothing."

"Sir?"

"Never mind."

Marcus turned away. On his way here, the battalion commander had been wrestling with several questions. Would Encrid stay in the territory until the end? Would it be better to abandon this place and summon him to the capital? Or would he go his own way?

'Those damned bureaucrats in the capital.'

Once again, Marcus wanted to curse the corrupt nobles and officials. He cursed them countless times on any ordinary day, but now he wanted to put a hole in each of their foreheads.

He wanted to hire an assassin famous enough to appear in the history books. Someone like the man nicknamed Red Dot, or Redot for short, because he left a red mark on his victims' foreheads. Or was it Crimson Spot? Whatever the case, he wanted to cut away the rot.

'Fine. I'm coming. I'm coming.'

He had no intention of meekly trotting over at their summons and behaving himself. He would hunt down and deal with everyone Black Blade had played for a fool. But to wield that sort of power, he needed this place to remain standing. The enemy was determined to take Border Guard.

Then what could Marcus do?

'What else?'

What he always did. Leave the fighting to those who were good at it, and go do what he did best.

Marcus resolved to write a few more letters before he left. He had to make every preparation he could. In the process, his thoughts had turned to Encrid, the greatest variable of all.

'Will he stay?'

Like a true politician, he had come half out of suspicion and half to persuade him, only to receive an answer all too easily. Encrid agreed without fuss. There was no lie in it, nor any fierce sense of duty, but he would defend this place. That was simply the kind of man he was.

Marcus could not tell what fire Encrid carried in his heart, but it burned, rarely showing itself. If he wanted to become a knight, he should have gone to the capital and the royal palace long ago, doing everything he could to enter a knight order. Why was he still here, even after acquiring Will? The question struck Marcus anew.

'What kind of knight do you want to be?'

Next time. He wanted to ask when they met again.

Somehow, he felt reassured. The weight on his chest had eased considerably, as though he had untangled a knot. He did not know why, and he could not foresee everything that lay ahead, but...

'We won't go down easily.'

It was strange. Even if Graham, the First Company Commander, worked himself bloody, somehow it would not reassure Marcus as much as that one word from Encrid.

'Is it the difference in their ability?'

He knew now. Encrid had become a fearsome swordsman. He was on the path to knighthood. He had even grasped Will. Was that why? No. Marcus knew instinctively that it was not.

When he returned to his office, he found First Company Commander Graham waiting for him.

"I'm sorry. We won't even be able to hold a proper appointment ceremony. More importantly, I have no idea what the battalion commander stationed at Green Pearl is thinking. If he's gone over to their side too, things will be difficult."

"Don't worry, sir. We won't lose to the likes of Black Blade."

Graham, too, was an exceptional soldier and a fine man.

'So why does that inspire less confidence than a simple "Yes"?'

Marcus shook his head inwardly and patted Graham's shoulder.

Everything was going to shit, and he had to leave. It was a feeling like no other. Unbidden, his resolve hardened once more. He would take the head of whoever was responsible for this.

* * *

"Cultists have risen up south of Martai!"

Wherever traveling merchants and people passing through the territory gathered, those words could be heard. Supposedly, a bishop of the evil cult had appeared in the south, leading a horde of demonic beasts. Rumors abounded that someone called the Wolf Bishop, a fairly well-known figure among the Cultists, had taken the field with an army.

Of course, it was more than rumor.

["With winter upon us, I personally proclaim this place holy ground for those who starve and shiver in the cold."]

The bishop's words were written on paper and circulated far and wide. They reached Border Guard as well.

"Well, now. What a load of shit."

Some soldiers clicked their tongues when they read it. He had publicly declared Martai and the Border Guard region holy ground for the evil cult. In other words: get out while you can, because anyone who fights will be killed.

This was a serious problem. The former First Company Commander, now lord and battalion commander after Marcus's departure, broke into a cold sweat before the oncoming wave of troubles. Why had Cultists suddenly appeared? This was grave. His troops' limits were clear, yet Black Blade and the Cultists were bearing down on them from different directions.

"Marcus, you bastard! Did you run away in fear?"

Viscount Tarnin escalated his bullshit to new heights while quietly advancing his troops. The scent of battle was beginning to spread.

"We must send someone to Count Molsen and request support."

Graham took immediate action. A son of the great noble with the most influence in the region happened to be in the territory. Surely he would help? Graham also slipped in a subtle mention that both of the count's sons were here.

The reply came.

["Cultists are rising in the county as well, and winter has brought far too many monsters. Handle it yourselves."]

BANG!

The First Company Commander slammed his fist into the wall. Built of sturdy brick, it did not break. A dull pain spread from the nerve endings in his fingertips, but did that matter now?

"Damn it! Your territory is next after ours!"

Surely Count Molsen's territory could not remain indifferent to this? The ones hiding behind that pig bastard Tarnin were the Black Blade Bandits. No, at this point, were they even hiding? Several swordsmen known to belong to the bandits had shown their faces. They were serious.

The force advancing from the south and keeping Martai in check consisted of Cultists, but the two groups did not encroach on each other's territory, as though they had signed a nonaggression pact. It looked like a coordinated attack. If that was how it looked, that was what it must be.

Then would those two groups stop after taking Border Guard? Would they pat their bellies, say, "Well, that's enough," and disperse? Not a chance. They would only run more rampant.

Graham sent crows and pigeons to the capital too. No answer came. Instead, he received other news.

"Battalion Commander."

Hadn't Marcus apologized for passing on the post at a time like this? They had skipped the appointment ceremony, but Graham had intended to use this crisis to cement his position as battalion commander. That had been the plan. Now he remembered what Marcus had said before leaving.

["If it looks completely hopeless, do what you can and run."]

He wondered if that time had come.

The news plunged the new battalion commander into despair. The words would fill Graham's eyes with gloom.

"Aspen has made its move."

There was a man who had originally commanded the reserve battalion. He had stationed his army on the Green Pearl plains and was training warhorses, opening new farmland, and building villages. Fortification came first, so he had started with barracks and palisades. From villages to a territory, beyond a mere military encampment: he was making it fully Naurilian land.

A messenger arrived from that Green Pearl. Aspen had assembled an army and crossed the border, breaking its promise. It was an invasion.

Aspen was not about to sit idly by forever, keeping quiet just because it had lost once. But why now, of all times? This required support from the central government. Border Guard could never handle it alone. Reinforcements would come, since Aspen had moved. The trouble was...

'Of course, that will only matter if we're still alive when they arrive.'

He had barely been appointed battalion commander, and already he wanted to flee. Black Blade's machinations had become a keen blade, beginning to tear through Border Guard. They had driven Marcus out, summoned the Cultists, and even set Aspen in motion.

The sky was dim. Thick storm clouds kept the sunlight from properly reaching the ground even by day. Dark clouds hung over the territory as well.

* * *

"What are you going to do now?"

The Black Blade officer cackled alone. He poured strong liquor into his mouth, savoring his triumph. How dare they mess with us?

They had drawn on their connections and poured gold into the effort. This was the result: Viscount Tarnin and Black Blade's army. A Cultist army south of Martai. And to the east, beyond the Green Pearl plains occupied by Border Guard, Aspen rising against them. Well, what were they going to do now?

* * *

With news battering them from every direction, the flow of traveling merchants into the territory began to dwindle.

"I hear there's going to be a war."

"I heard Cultists are invading."

"No, no, that's not it. The troops at Green Pearl have turned against them. They're asking why someone else was put in charge of Border Guard instead of their commander."

"They say the central government's abandoning this place because it's become an eyesore..."

"And that's not all. I hear Count Molsen turned his back on them too."

When would Border Guard fall? Encrid paid little heed to such rumors. Others, of course, could not dismiss them so easily.

Graham, their commander and newly appointed battalion commander, could barely breathe. It felt as though someone were holding a blade beneath his chin. He could convene a war council to stop Viscount Tarnin, but their rear left him uneasy. The reply to his messenger at the Green Pearl battalion made that rear seem even more precarious.

["The enemy has considerable numbers. Unless you intend to let every soldier here be slaughtered, you must send reinforcements."]

Reinforcements, my ass. They were so short-handed here that he wanted to raise an army of Ghouls himself.

His bristling beard and bloodshot eyes seemed to speak for his state of mind.

"Fuck you, Marcus."

In the end, Graham cursed Marcus. What joy was there in becoming battalion commander and lord when this was what he had to deal with?

Around the time the territory's leader was slipping halfway into panic, someone in Encrid's Company was in a similar state.

"Captain, Captain, isn't it time we ran away?"

What was this about?

"Did you swear loyalty to the queen or something? You didn't. I mean, I don't think we can stop the Cultists, Black Blade, and Aspen all at once."

This was unlike him. Encrid studied Big-eyes for a moment.

His leg trembled. He started to bite his nails, then spat and kept blinking. Even now, as he looked at Encrid and blinked three or four times, his eyes visibly wavered. He was not himself.

Encrid did not think he knew all his soldiers' pasts or understood their personalities perfectly. But he knew a few things. He had naturally learned that Rem hated the cold and Ragna was lazy with no sense of direction. That Jaxon kept many secrets and occasionally showed a chilling side, though who it was directed at remained unclear.

He knew Krais's habits too. This big-eyed fellow had not had an easy life. Then again, who here had lived in peace? Anyone who had would never have drifted all the way here. They had not been called the troublemaker unit from the start for nothing. Krais was one of those troublemakers too.

"This is the worst."

Muttering, Krais began to reel off everything that was going to happen.

"Even if we can hold off Black Blade's attacking forces behind the walls, what about the Cultists coming up from the south? That Wolf Bishop is pretty famous. I've been gathering what information I can."

He spoke without so much as a bitter smile, his face deathly pale.

"He leads hundreds of wolf demonic beasts. A man with a bounty on his head has openly taken the field. What does that tell you? Molsen or no Molsen, the kingdom has abandoned this place. I don't know what they're getting in return, but they'll have gotten everything they could out of abandoning us. This is land the queen has forsaken. Look, Aspen has openly lined up its army, and not a single reinforcement is coming. This calls for at least part of a knight order. But they're not coming. What does that mean? Politics, I'll bet. Did they pay some price to give up Green Pearl? Or did they strike a deal with the Cultists? At the very least, Black Blade..."

He went on at length. Encrid took in half of it and let the rest wash over him. He looked around. Seeing the eyes fixed on him, he realized something: they would do whatever he chose.

Even if he told them to abandon the territory and leave, they would all follow. Rem, Ragna, Audin, Jaxon, Dunbachel, Teresa, and finally Krais, steeped in anxiety. The panther that had slipped quietly inside would do the same.

Eight, and himself. Nine in all. Ordinarily, a force small enough that its disappearance would not matter. But now?

They said the previous battle had been an easy victory because Marcus had concealed their Company's strength. That was Krais's analysis. Encrid agreed. So what would happen if they pulled out now? What else? Everything would fall apart.