Chapter 304 - Anytime

Standing alone outside, Ragna was remembering the past.

["A thousand. Don't even think about coming inside until you've finished."]

A thousand downward strikes. He hadn't thought that would be difficult. But he had wondered.

'Why do I have to swing a sword?'

His arms hurt. His body hurt. It wasn't fun. Had it been fun when he first picked up a sword? He had no idea. He couldn't even remember.

["Why? Did you ask why? If you were born a man of House Zaun, this is your duty."]

His duty, they said. Could that serve as a reason? The same thing happened over and over.

Why must he?

["Bring glory to House Zaun."]

Why must he?

["Become a knight."]

Why did he have to become a knight?

["Kill."]

Why did he have to kill?

Ever since childhood, Ragna had been unable to find his way. Finding his way was the hardest thing in the world for him.

Why was it so difficult?

Because he didn't know the right path. Because he knew no path at all. Ragna had no destination.

That was why he had always wondered. How could this man called Encrid do it?

Surely everyone ought to question the path they walked at least once. Was this the right path? Was this a valid reason, a reason enough to live?

Ragna had never seen the bewilderment of someone who had lost his bearings in Encrid's eyes. Anyone might wander from time to time, but not Encrid.

He was always certain. That was why Ragna wanted to ask.

Why did he want to become a knight?

* * *

Encrid looked at Ragna and scratched his chin out of habit. He already knew his answer. He just wasn't sure it was the answer Ragna wanted.

'That bastard Rem is easier to deal with.'

Rem was flexible in his thinking. His madness made it hard to see, but his mind might bend, never break.

Audin was stalwart. His mental resilience was firmer than anyone else's.

'He did seem precarious at first.'

He still wavered at times, but there was a firmness like refined steel within that wavering. Perhaps it was better to say he revealed a strength that assured Encrid he would never crumble.

Jaxon was unflappable, and that made him cold. He rarely showed passion for anything. Of course, sometimes a heat shone through that coldness, fierce enough to burn someone just looking at it.

That was how Encrid saw the inner lives of his company members.

Then what of Ragna?

'A blade that can cut anything, yet easily breaks.'

Unstable and precarious. No man better embodied the word talent, and no man wielded his own talent more precariously.

Encrid didn't choose his words carefully. Nor did he trouble himself with deliberation.

"Because this tells me to."

He simply tapped his chest as he spoke.

Ragna went still at those words. He held his breath for quite some time, as though he had forgotten to breathe. Encrid watched quietly until, at last, Ragna let out an even breath and spoke.

"That's why you want to become a knight?"

A dream in childhood, a fervently desired goal as he grew older, a delusion for a time. Now it was the path he had walked and would continue to walk.

The knight who would end the war and bring the fighting to a close. A Bard's song had become his dream.

If he had to put it into words, that was his reason. But if he sank deeper into himself, it was something he did because his heart told him to.

Saving a child, protecting the weak, keeping an oath: they were all the same.

How could there be only one reason he wanted to become a knight?

So this was his answer.

"Is my 'why' what matters?"

He answered a question with a question. Ragna sank into thought again. His eyes were on Encrid, but his thoughts were drifting elsewhere. Encrid could tell.

Rem, Audin, Jaxon, Ragna: they were all the same. They looked to him for answers. They gained something from him. Esther was much the same.

Without even that much perceptiveness, he would never have made it as the troublemaker Squad Leader. He would have ended up a meal for crows in some corner of a battlefield.

"I'm heading back in."

A welcome question, a welcome answer. That was how Encrid saw it.

The fanciful thought that Krais might conspire with Garrett to plan their escape if left alone had sent him back toward the tent when Ragna called out.

"Once the fighting is over, let's have a match."

"Anytime."

"With more than half our lives on the line."

He meant they should take it seriously.

"Anytime."

Encrid repeated his answer and entered the tent.

Left outside, Ragna quietly felt the explosion, the eruption taking place within him. A volcano erupting must feel something like this. Something seething rose from his lower belly and hammered at his heart.

'Why am I alive?'

When his question of why he had to swing a sword had reached the question of why he lived, Ragna had lost his drive.

He had become a layabout. A lost sheep. Had he never met his shepherd, he would have lived that way forever.

"Let's have a match."

Ragna spoke into empty air. No answer came. The man who would answer had already gone inside the tent.

He concentrated on the voice within him. The voice of his heart. The cry of his inner world.

'Hey. Can you finally hear me?'

He could. The clamor, the reproach he had ignored all this time rang clear.

At some point, facing all but the most exceptional opponents had stopped being enjoyable.

'This is just killing.'

It had felt not like crossing swords, but killing people along a predetermined path. Not a contest, but labor.

That didn't mean he felt any guilt over killing. If someone took up a weapon, shouldn't they always be prepared to die? His opponents had drawn their swords too. They had to accept the consequences.

Ragna had thought he would spend his life wandering and die in some nameless field. But the world did not always unfold as one expected.

'You fool. Do you understand now?'

Hearing that inner scolding, Ragna smiled.

"Ah. Yes. I understand."

He even said it aloud to himself.

Looking within, Ragna faced what he wanted. He recognized his desire. He found his path.

He wanted to fight someone who set his heart racing.

'I want to fight someone who will push me to my limits.'

Sinar, who had left the tent some time earlier, had heard their entire conversation from off to one side. A Fairy's hearing was like magic that rendered most distances meaningless.

To her, Ragna's question had been strange, and Encrid's answer had been strange. Ragna muttering to himself afterward was stranger still.

All of it was strange.

And yet she couldn't explain why listening to their conversation pleased her.

Just hearing it felt fresh and innocent. It warmed her heart. Feeling something she hadn't felt in a very long time, Sinar smiled without realizing it.

It was a smile she would never have shown if anyone had been watching.

* * *

Study the map. Understand the terrain.

Krais sorted through the dozens of possible developments in his mind, picking out the most likely.

'Still not enough.'

They were woefully short on both fighting strength and intelligence about the enemy.

'How do we win? No, this is a fight we win just by holding.'

As long as the palisade stood, they would be fine. There was the answer, then. Defense. Not advancing, but defending.

'No, that's not right.'

If they defended, they would lose. Unless Aspen was a gathering of idiots. But if it were, they would have attacked from the rear in the first place.

One thought led to another until they tangled.

"That's why this won't work. Well, our best option is to defend."

Battalion Commander Garrett spoke. The bodyguard called Nurat muttered something behind him. Krais didn't hear it.

How many times had this happened in this battle alone? His mind reeled. Running away would make everything so simple.

'Why do we have to protect the city?'

Why couldn't they run?

The most important thing in the world was his own life. Second came Krona. Encrid ranked around third.

In other words, this was all the Captain's fault.

"Ah, I don't know."

Krais finally threw up his hands. This strategy meeting had begun without warning, and they had already spent three or four hours talking, dripping with sweat.

When he looked back, Encrid was there. He had seemed to be leaving, but had come back in and was listening.

"Our best option is to defend and hold out until winter passes. But would Aspen be creeping toward us without knowing that?" Garrett asked.

"Exactly. That's why I decided their slow advance was a problem," Krais replied.

They were repeating themselves in search of an answer. This was the conversation Krais and Garrett had had as soon as they met.

["Their pace?"]

["Slow."]

["That's not good."]

["No, it isn't."]

Garrett had said it was slow, and Krais had said that was bad.

Why was it bad?

Because advancing slowly despite knowing the defenders held the advantage here meant they were up to something.

Encrid, who had been watching quietly, asked, "What's the worst that could happen?"

"A fire-breathing dragon appearing right over our heads this instant."

Krais answered without missing a beat.

"A dragon? That's excessive. It couldn't happen," Nurat interjected.

Garrett didn't stop her. Krais spoke again.

"Or knight-level forces could suddenly appear."

"I've kept track of knight-level troop movements as closely as possible."

This time, Garrett answered.

"Judging by their pace, they'll reach us in four or five days at most. Until then, we'll have to hold out while organizing and sending out scouts."

Encrid studied the map too, getting a feel for the terrain and committing its broad outlines to memory. His memory had been good since childhood. Besides, he had worked as a pathfinder. Memorizing a few routes was nothing.

"What do we need most right now?"

"A variable."

The answer came immediately. If you didn't know what was in a barrel, you could shake it. Krais thought so too, but what would that variable be here?

Did they have to sacrifice troops to see how the enemy reacted?

Wouldn't that just be fucking idiotic?

Then what? Strike the supply line? That wouldn't work either. Their preparations were meticulous. That was the reason for the slow advance.

They were practically inspecting, prodding, and picking up every single pebble on the ground as they walked.

There was a saying on the continent: if tapping a stone bridge wasn't enough to reassure you, go around. If something troubled you, don't do it, even if the alternative took longer.

Thoroughness mattered more than speed.

That was how their opponent was behaving now.

So the best they could do now was hold out. Next came shaking things up.

"Sometimes a reaction reveals an intention."

"A good approach, but hardly an easy one, is it?"

Garrett folded his arms across from him. Nurat elaborated.

"They're coming very slowly, without exposing the slightest opening. We formed a ranger unit and sent it to disrupt their supplies, but it never stood a chance. Not one of them returned alive."

Encrid nodded. Did he have some special solution himself?

"We'll have to rest and prepare."

That was the decision. Garrett nodded his agreement.

"Once this battle is over, could you tell me a few stories about your past?"

Garrett approached him after the meeting to ask.

What was with this man? He was no ordinary person. He had established the encampment at Green Pearl and readied the army as soon as Aspen appeared. His preparations had been solid and sound.

"What sort of stories?"

"Your battles. What happened in the troublemaker squad. The moment you finally became a Company Commander, the battle you fought then. Everything that's happened."

Garrett's eyes sparkled. He looked excited, his gaze anticipating pleasure. Encrid scratched his chin.

There would certainly be plenty to do once the battle was over. Though surviving seemed to come first.

Encrid had something to think about too. With Aspen taking this approach, what could he do to give the enemy commander a headache?

"Yes, later."

He gave a perfunctory answer, his thoughts elsewhere. Satisfied with that much, Garrett nodded.

Was it fortunate that Garrett wasn't a traitor?

To Encrid, switching sides seemed his best option. Wouldn't siding with Aspen and turning his blade on them have been much easier?

He asked without concealing his thoughts.

"If fleeing is the answer, and even the best you can expect is to be treated as a war criminal, why didn't you switch sides? Aspen must have made you an offer."

It could have been a sensitive question, but Garrett didn't mind.

"Romance."

"Pardon?"

"Because the romance is here."

What did he mean by romance?

Garrett dreamed of becoming a poet. He had always possessed a considerable gift for melody and rhythm.

To him, everything that happened in Border Guard was material. A story. Romance. His dream.

Encrid in particular was like the hero of a play. Garrett adored heroes. Encrid didn't have to do anything to earn his affection.

The deeper he looked, the more he learned, the more impossible feats he discovered Encrid had accomplished, one after another.

"Because living and dying this way will be many times more interesting."

Garrett smiled. In a way, he was a lunatic much like Encrid. If he found inspiration for a romantic poem today, he wouldn't mind dying tomorrow.

Encrid didn't know all the details, but he knew instinctively that this man wouldn't betray them. Not that they would have been standing here like this if he had already drawn the blade of treachery.

"He's a lot like you, Captain."

"How?"

"Well, up here."

Beside him, Krais tapped his own head with his index finger. Somehow, that offended Encrid, so he drove an elbow into Krais's skull.

"Ow!"

Krais clutched his head and rolled on the ground. Nurat asked if he was all right and helped him up.

"I'm fine. Ah, Nurat, was it? Shall we talk over a cup of tea?"

Even in this situation, he was hitting on a woman. Yes, that was Krais. This was better than seeing him stumbling around in a panic.

Whether he had half given up or thought they stood a chance, Encrid couldn't tell.

Encrid left the tent, intending to look around the encampment Garrett had built. As he explored, he spotted a group of soldiers.

They were roasting something over a fire, and it smelled incredible.

Drawing closer, he saw long pieces of meat skewered on long branches. One side seasoned them while the other roasted them. Their practiced division of labor was superb.

"Let me join you."

Encrid stepped into their midst.

"Huh? Haven't seen you before."

"I joined you today."

Most of the soldiers didn't know Encrid's face. This Battalion specialized in logistics. Everyone was busy with practiced hands.

Garrett's unit had always been like this. His strength was support, not combat.

"We can spare you one."

There was a female soldier among them, and she stared openly at Encrid's face. Her friendliness was perhaps inevitable. At times, his face was a weapon in its own right.

"Stop staring. You'll wear him out," the soldier applying the seasoning chided.

"Hey, they're my eyes. Let me give them a treat. Seeing nothing but you lot every day was making them rot."

"Oh, for fuck's sake."

There was warmth in the way they treated one another. That they worked in such harmony while trading insults proved how well they got along. Encrid squeezed himself into a seat among them.

Even with a thick blanket spread on the ground, the cold seeped up.

Soon, he put a piece of roasted meat into his mouth. He had assumed it was snake meat, but the moment he bit down, it melted on his tongue.

"What is this?"

The soldier roasting the meat grinned at his question.

"Good for a man's stamina."

Encrid judged them a cut above Martai's bread-baking unit. That was how good it tasted.

He had also learned one more thing: Garrett was extraordinarily good at managing his unit.

'He says fighting isn't his strength, but...'

The soldiers had an air of ease. This was a well-managed unit.

Encrid stayed and helped himself to several more pieces of meat.

"You've got an appetite," the female soldier remarked.

Encrid only nodded. He was too busy stuffing meat into his mouth.