Chapter 30 - When Does Darkness Become Your Friend?

When does darkness become your friend? If that was the question, the answer was easy.

When you were somewhere you knew well. Somewhere whose terrain you knew as thoroughly as your own front yard. Better yet, somewhere you had been living until recently. Even a faint glimpse of your surroundings would tell you roughly where you were.

Somewhere utterly familiar—a place you had used as a nighttime training ground as recently as yesterday, for instance—would be better still. That described the place Encrid had just reached.

Ordinarily, it should have been unfamiliar.

"This is..."

Ordinarily, he should have been startled by the sight.

"Damn it."

Ordinarily, he should have despaired the moment he saw the scale of the enemy force.

None of that applied to Encrid. He had already been here many times. And he had done more than merely visit. He had struggled and struggled. Fought and fought.

The people who came with him changed a little each time, but the core group remained much the same: Andrew, the fierce-looking soldier, Henri, and the other squad members. Two of the former thugs among them had even been a great help.

They had emerged from the tall-grass fields after traveling in the opposite direction. An unexpected sight unfolded before them.

Some of the squad members had thought that, with their retreat to the main force blocked, this direction might instead offer a way out. Henri, to be precise.

His sense of direction was as good as the fierce-looking soldier's. His time as a plains hunter had not been for nothing. With the enemy lying in ambush in the grass, he had thought this side might actually be deserted.

He had been wrong, which made it all the more devastating. Henri felt his legs go weak.

FWOOSH

The first thing he saw was a burning torch stand. Then he noticed a broad expanse of thick cloth blocking half its light. The instant he saw it, Henri took a step back.

He raised his head and took in more of his surroundings, and the structure's shape became clear. It was a tent. What was a tent doing here?

Turning his head in the dim light, he saw another burning torch stand beside the tent. A row of torch stands stretched into the distance. Even a rough count put them at more than ten.

They were spaced so far apart that he could barely see the surroundings. Moonlight mingled with torchlight, revealing more of the view. What they saw were tents.

More than twenty tents stretched along the edge of the tall-grass fields. This was the opposite side from their own camp. In other words, the tents before them belonged to the enemy: the Principality of Aspen.

"Fuck, what is this?"

One of the former thugs muttered, instinctively keeping his voice down.

"Ha... All that, just to end up here."

Henri's voice was hollow.

"Shh. Quiet."

At that moment, the fierce-looking soldier was the quickest to react. If a sentry spotted them now, a fight would break out, and they would be killed in an instant.

Beyond the torch stands, they could all see several lights moving in the distance. No one needed to explain that they were torches carried by sentries.

"Keep your mouths shut."

The fierce-looking soldier looked around as he spoke.

One wrong move meant death. A veteran's experience shone in a crisis, and he acted on his. He crouched, trying to detect the sentries.

Conceal themselves as well as possible, assess the situation, then find a way to escape. With luck, it might be possible. It was night, and though he had not intended it, they had moved in a direction far removed from anything the enemy would expect.

They were so deep in the enemy camp that he could touch a tent simply by reaching out. Even so, they had a chance to escape as long as they went unnoticed. That was his assessment. Keep your wits about you, and you could survive even in the middle of a horde of monsters.

"Don't draw your blades. Stay low."

He acted as though he were their leader. Most of the squad obeyed him. Only two did not. One, naturally, was Encrid. The other was Andrew.

"He must have something in mind. Encrid is the Squad Leader."

Perhaps the beating had done him some good. The man who had been beaten and stripped of his command that morning was the only one to take Encrid's side.

"This is no time for games, sir."

Still hunched over, the fierce-looking soldier looked back. His voice was quiet, but it carried the menace of a snarling beast.

He felt an urgent need to act. They were in the heart of the enemy camp. This was several times more dangerous than encountering an ambush in the tall-grass fields. An enemy spear could come shooting out from beyond this tent at any moment, and it would be no surprise. What could Encrid possibly have in mind in a situation like this?

The fierce-looking soldier's reaction was reasonable. Indeed, Encrid had thought the same thing about him time and again.

'He's no ordinary man.'

His skill, experience, judgment, and decisiveness were all far beyond those of some mediocre soldier. If Encrid had not been here—if he had not been repeating today—putting this man in command and fighting desperately to survive would have been the right choice.

But there was no need for that now. The others did not know it, but their entire journey here had gone exactly as Encrid intended. The timing, their position, the location—everything.

How many nights had he already spent here? How many lives had he thrown away? How many times had he repeated today?

Three slow-witted soldiers were fast asleep in the tent before them. There was still time before they would encounter the camp patrol. Knowing all of that, Encrid acted.

RIP

He drew his sword and slashed open the tent wall. The blade caught the moonlight as it swept upward.

"You crazy bastard."

The fierce-looking soldier was horrified.

Andrew, meanwhile, reacted to Encrid's move. He darted through the torn tent wall and drove the tip of his shortsword down into the throat of an enemy soldier who had startled awake.

THUNK!

Encrid leaped in after him. He pressed his blade to the throat of a man trying to rise. Jolted awake, the man gasped and tried to grab the blade. Encrid forced it down and slit his throat.

RRRIP

There was a sound like tearing leather, and the smell of blood soon filled the tent. A former thug drove a dagger into the last enemy soldier's heart.

"Ghurk, ghrrrkk."

The man stabbed through the heart crawled along the ground, reaching out. He was stubbornly clinging to life.

Light spilling through the tent entrance illuminated his head as he reached out. Then a dark shadow fell over him. It was the fierce-looking soldier. He pinned the man's back with his knee, took hold of his neck, and twisted.

CRACK

The enemy soldier died with his neck broken and his tongue hanging out.

"Hey. You."

The fierce-looking soldier's eyes blazed in the darkness as he glared at Encrid.

They had been lucky. Otherwise, they would have been surrounded and wiped out right in the middle of the enemy camp. It had been an outright gamble. That was how he saw it.

"We're moving to the next tent."

Encrid ignored his glare. Before the man could say anything, he extended his sword.

"Hey, you crazy bastard."

The fierce-looking soldier spoke in a low voice, brimming with exasperation and anger. To him, this was sheer, unending madness.

Encrid sliced and tore at the side of the tent, turning only his head to look back. He seemed not the least bit worried that the man might do something to him from behind. Even with all that murderous intent pouring off him?

They had charged into enemy territory with no more than a patrol's worth of men, yet the atmosphere between the two was so vicious that sparks might have flown. Everyone watched them warily.

"Your name?"

"What?"

"Your name."

Was it Encrid's composure? Or his boldness in remaining unmoved by that murderous intent? Whatever the reason, as Encrid drew his sword downward and asked, the fierce-looking soldier answered without resistance.

"Call me Mac."

Even as he spoke, he did not rein in his murderous intent. Encrid turned his gaze away from him.

"Mac, I won't tolerate insubordination."

"What?"

RRRIP

Encrid finished tearing through the tent wall and stepped out. Those left behind had only one choice. They had to follow.

"Hah. What the hell is going on?"

Muttering to himself, Mac met Andrew's eyes.

"Yes, sir. I'm going."

Mac answered the look. For now, he had to follow.

The next tent was empty. It looked as though every soldier quartered there had gone out on night watch somewhere.

'Does that make any sense?'

The tent was large enough to accommodate at least ten men. A squad at the very least. They could probably squeeze two squads into it. Indeed, the traces left inside suggested more than ten occupants.

"Forward."

After passing through that tent, the troublemaker Squad Leader no longer bothered cutting through the walls. He poked his head through the entrance, looked left and right, then darted out. The squad followed.

Clouds had gathered unnoticed, blotting out the moonlight. The torch stands alone did little to illuminate their surroundings. However often they blinked to adjust their eyes to the night, everything remained dark.

Encrid advanced through it without hesitation. Nothing could be heard but the breathing of the squad members following him.

"This way."

His voice rang out in the darkness. It was not particularly quiet. Loud enough for any nearby enemy to hear. Mac felt goose bumps rise along his back.

'That bastard, seriously.'

But there was no sign of anyone. No movement from enemies he had failed to detect, either. If anyone had spotted them, they would already have heard a challenge of some sort.

Encrid moved again. Now even Mac was having trouble keeping his bearings. In the tall-grass fields, the sun had hung plainly overhead, making it easy to tell directions. Here, darkness surrounded them.

'Does he know where he's going?'

It seemed so. There appeared to be no hesitation in Encrid's steps.

He kept moving, stopping only once a tent flanked by two torch stands came into view in the distance. Taking cover behind a suitable tree ahead, he beckoned to the others. Their night-adjusted eyes could barely make out his gesture.

Mac felt as though he had been bewitched.

'How far have we walked?'

He could not say exactly. But judging the camp's size by the number of tents...

'I think we've gone right through it.'

They seemed to have walked far enough to cross the enemy camp. Yet no one knew? Why hadn't they been caught? No wonder he felt bewitched.

"Wait here."

Encrid turned back and spoke in a whisper.

A glance at the tent he indicated revealed four soldiers guarding it. The enemy camp was unnaturally quiet, even for nighttime, but that tent alone seemed busy.

WHOOO

A gust of wind made the torchlight flicker, sending the soldiers' shadows shifting to and fro. Then someone emerged from the tent and said something. They were too far away to hear properly, but Mac could see a soldier nod in response.

'What are they guarding?'

And had the troublemaker Squad Leader come here for it?

Only then did Mac understand the situation. No, he made a guess. A thought suddenly flashed through his mind and took hold.

'It was a secret mission.'

A mission given solely to the troublemaker Squad Leader, excluding Mac and the other squad members. He must have earned that much trust from his commanding officer.

Mac recalled what Andrew had said: the troublemaker Squad Leader had joined them on the Company Commander's orders. Now everything fell into place. Encrid, their Squad Leader, was carrying out a secret mission.

'So that's what this was?'

He had misunderstood.

Mac had reached his little revelation, but he did not voice it. And even if Encrid had known about this misunderstanding, he would not have bothered confirming or denying it. He had more pressing work at hand.

"We're going to set that tent on fire."

Encrid raised a finger. Four soldiers guarded the front of that tent alone.