Chapter 305 - Eating, Drinking, and Resting

When he asked what the meat melting in his mouth was, the answer came:

"Eel."

Not a snake, but a long-bodied freshwater fish, the female soldier explained as she roughly skinned one with a short knife. Everyone worked quickly, and they worked well together.

"When we get back to the city, I'm thinking of bringing fish over from the river to sell. What do you think?"

The soldier brushing on the sauce asked. Encrid silently raised a thumb.

As he did, he pictured the trade route between the river and here. With a properly maintained road, the trip would take two days by wagon. If they could get a spell object that emitted cold even in midsummer, freshness would not be a problem either.

Whereas artifacts were relics, spell objects were magical tools made and sold by mages' guilds and the like. Some maintained a gentle chill. People in large cities used them to enjoy things like shaved ice even at the height of summer.

Of course, they were so damned expensive that you rarely saw them in a backwater like Border Guard, but who knew what might happen as trade developed? He understood that even silk was being brought in already. Trade would have grown further if not for the war, but there was no helping that.

"I've never tasted anything like it."

Encrid knew how to speak with genuine feeling. The sauce around his mouth did nothing to diminish that sincerity. No, it only doubled it.

The soldier coating the grilled eel grinned. It was hardly a pleasant-looking face, but the smile was sincere. Pure delight shone through. Simply having someone eat the food seemed to be a pleasure.

"Think it'll sell well?"

"Very."

"That's nice to hear, even if you're just saying it."

"Hey, you're taking me with you when you do, right?"

That came from the soldier grilling eel beside them. Soot smudged the soldier's face, looking quite at home there. Neither of the two looked very old.

"Helma! Is it cooked yet?"

Several soldiers called out as they approached. Helma was the name of the female soldier who had been staring at Encrid.

"Yeah. Catch anything?"

She answered without looking back.

From what he gathered, they had opened a route all the way to the Penn-Hanil River and went there to catch things whenever they were bored. One of the approaching soldiers set down a thick bag. The cold had coated the leather in a thin layer of ice, and flakes showered off it.

"What is it?"

"Crayfish."

The bag opened to reveal claw-waving crustaceans. The soldier making the sauce licked his lips.

"Those are delicious even if you just grill them."

Encrid mingled with the soldiers, eating and enjoying himself as though he had always been one of them.

"Want a swig?"

"Gladly."

Helma offered him a drink. It was musty-smelling whiskey.

"It's not good liquor, but it's not bad, right?"

It was certainly just the thing to warm him in the cold.

The gifted cook grilled a crayfish, pulled off its head, and spread the innards over the flesh like sauce.

"Eat it like this. It'll drive you crazy."

Encrid tried it. He nearly went crazy. There was no fishy smell, just an abundance of savory flavor. A pleasant sweetness enveloped his tongue and walloped his brain.

"You have to open a restaurant."

Encrid recommended it twice.

Trout came next. It had already been gutted by the river, so all it needed was grilling. Sprinkled with salt and pepper, it too was a delicacy.

"So, what unit are you with?"

A female soldier other than Helma asked. Women could be seen here and there among the troops, which was only natural.

Naurilia strongly encouraged women to enlist as well. Born a serf's daughter? Join the army if you want to change your life. This was the women's military service system, Naurilia's third military policy after the soldier grading system and the soldier-for-hire system. It had worked well, making female soldiers a common sight.

"Reinforcements."

"From Border Guard?"

"Yes."

"So? Is your Captain really handsome? Everyone says he is. Is he better-looking than you? Hm?"

Encrid currently had a beard. More precisely, he had left it alone for lack of time to shave. It might have looked untidy, but it could not completely conceal the face underneath. Helma kept stealing glances at him, after all.

"No, I'm better-looking."

Encrid brushed it off with a joke. Several soldiers laughed openly. Some cast him envious looks, while others liked his easygoing manner.

"Why don't you tone it down?"

Quite a few soldiers said things like that, driven by a mixture of envy and jealousy.

"Sure. Will do."

Encrid took it calmly. What good would fighting do? Rem would have cracked their skulls first, but he was not Rem.

After eating and drinking, he entered his assigned quarters to find Esther sitting quietly, waiting. Rumor had it that several soldiers had fallen lovesick at the mere sight of her.

With her silky black hair hanging loose and thick black fur wrapped around her, the mage was more than beautiful enough to capture the soldiers' attention, just like Sinar. Was that why she had not gone outside? Probably not. Esther took little interest in her surroundings to begin with.

The mage looked at Encrid and spoke, her flat delivery the very model of bluntness.

"I need to go somewhere."

"All right."

He had no particular reason to stop her.

And just like that, Esther left. At dawn the next day, Krais asked him, eyes bloodshot:

"Do you, perhaps, think spells or magic might be helpful?"

In other words, why had he simply let Esther leave? She happened to be in human form. Surely she could help?

Encrid had considered that too, but...

"She can't."

"Why?"

"If she could, she'd have stepped in long ago."

Normally, Krais would have realized it himself. Esther had been in human form for quite some time. If she could have done something with her spells, she would have done it already. But she had not. There was a reason.

Encrid understood that, which was why he had let her go. He assumed she had something to take care of. Nor did he think they needed her right this instant. If she offered, that would be one thing, but he felt that forcing her might do more harm than good. It was a feeling, not a thought. He had simply followed his intuition rather than ignored it.

"Why are you only clever at times like this?"

Krais grumbled. It was an admission that Encrid was right.

Afterward, Encrid warmed up and began his usual training. Using the Isolation Technique, he worked his muscles individually, tightening, stretching, and tormenting each one before moving on to sword practice. He had retrieved Lycanos's sword after killing him and brought it along. Two swords now hung at his left hip.

"Isn't that uncomfortable?"

Sinar, who had come over to watch that morning, asked.

"It's fine once you get used to it. And it's lighter than I expected."

"Is it?"

"A light bout?"

"Why not?"

CLANG!

Sinar's leaf sword was supple, fluid, and fast. She balanced on her toes, springing forward to swing. Her attacks were light, but difficult to deflect.

"Did you prepare that to counter my technique?"

"Quick on the uptake, my betrothed."

By the time he tried to redirect a strike, she had already hit and withdrawn.

Encrid changed his swordsmanship. Heavy Sword. Weighty swings and powerful cuts, with speed added to them. It was not the five swings in a single step that Ragna had once shown him, but he managed two strikes per step. Watching, taking inspiration, and thinking it through had allowed him to imitate it.

"Good."

Sinar sounded impressed. Her leaf sword changed as well, shifting from quick, clipped strikes to the yielding defense of Flowing Sword. Ever-changing, the Fairy's sword was sharp yet fluid.

Encrid watched and committed that to memory too. If he performed a Review and reflected on it later, there would be something to learn. Something would stay with him.

His right arm had not fully healed, but this was hardly a life-or-death spar. Neither of them was taking it all that seriously.

After they had crossed blades for a while, Sinar casually wiped a drop of sweat from her forehead and asked:

"Do you know that sword's name?"

"It has a name?"

He was holding Lycanos's sword in his left hand. He ran his eyes over it. From the hilt along the spine to the tip, the sword had something of an awl's shape. Its blade was silver, and whatever covered the hilt felt rough, but not uncomfortable.

It needed no leather wrapping. The way it nestled snugly against his palm made it feel custom-made for wielding a light sword. He already knew it was no ordinary weapon. Near the hilt, it also bore markings that resembled an organized system of letters.

Apparently it was no secret, for Sinar continued calmly.

"It's a Fairy-made sword. Its name is 'Spark.'"

"Is it famous?"

"Fairly."

He had already suspected it was no ordinary sword. It was both sturdy and light, which meant it was not made of ordinary iron.

Spark was the work of a renowned Fairy craftsman. Fairy swords came in two types, Nidle and needle. This was a needle that its maker had given a name. Naming a weapon spoke to the maker's confidence in it.

Sinar had heard it had been lost ten years ago, and here it had turned up. Light, durable, and specialized for stabbing, it was a needle of the very highest quality.

'How many swords were lost back then?'

The craftsman who had made Spark had forged several others, all of which had been lost in a certain incident. A certain incident, indeed. In truth, they had been lost because of that idiotic business of bloodlines.

'Patience, Destruction, Spark.'

She thought there had been a few more, but could not remember them all. A Fairy city would probably have a proper record of the items to be recovered, along with an account of the wicked human thieves.

All had been lost when the Fairy swordsman carrying them was ambushed and killed. That was what came of giving swords to someone with neither the qualifications nor the skill. It should never have been done, but it had.

'All that matters is that someone worthy carries it.'

So it was only right for Encrid to have Spark. That was how she saw it.

"It sounds like a famous sword. Don't you have to recover it or something?"

"Even a Fairy won't recognize it without a close look. It says 'Spark' in the Fairy language just below the guard. Keep that covered and you'll be fine."

Sinar turned away after saying that. Encrid understood her perfectly.

'She's telling me to hide it well and use it.'

He decided to do just that. He had picked up a good sword. There was no particular need to give it back. Encrid had a greedy streak when it came to swords, too.

Working up a sweat with Sinar had made him hungry again. He washed, then wandered through the encampment, which was laid out almost like a village. There was no smithy, but everywhere he looked people were grilling something or sewing pieces of cloth together. Everyone seemed to have plenty to do.

This time he brought Ragna and Dunbachel along. Both had been watching the spar intently and seemed to have nothing in particular to do.

"Want to come?"

"Sure."

"Thought you ate something yesterday. I could smell it all over you."

Dunbachel was a Beastman. Her sense of smell was keen and highly developed, and she said she enjoyed good food herself.

"Follow me."

Once again, Encrid found a convenient spot and sampled a bit of everything. He did not announce his identity. Though he had said nothing beforehand, Dunbachel saw how he treated the soldiers and promptly offered the vague explanation that she too was one of the reinforcements.

"Who made this, anyway? It's incredible."

"I did."

"Good job, kid."

Without thinking, Dunbachel patted the soldier's head. The young soldier's cheeks briefly reddened.

A few soldiers asked Ragna questions, but he kept his mouth shut. He looked both lost in thought and as though he were searching for something. The soldiers gave him a little space.

"Aren't these guys a bit touched in the head?"

One of them struck at the heart of the matter, but no one paid any attention. Encrid heard and understood. He himself was perfectly normal, but his men did sometimes seem a little lacking.

"Hey, I told you to keep a low profile. Now you're bringing weird friends here? What the fuck?"

One soldier grew irritable, but Encrid calmly let it pass again.

"All right. I'll be careful."

"This bastard's all talk..."

"Hey, don't."

"No, this bastard..."

"I said stop."

"Oh, fuck."

"Don't be an idiot."

It grated that Encrid said one thing and did whatever he pleased, but they could not deliberately start trouble. The surrounding soldiers intervened. Even the few who were huffing in anger fell silent.

"You watch yourself."

That was all they said.

Watching, Encrid thought the troops were well disciplined. He had hardly caused trouble, but someone could still have taken a swing at him out of resentment. If that had happened, he would have had no choice but to act like Rem for a moment and work that soldier over.

"Tsk."

When he smacked his lips, Helma gave him an odd look. He blithely ignored her and went back to eating and enjoying himself.

The grilled trout, crayfish, and sauced eel made even Ragna turn to look at the soldier who had cooked them. The sparkle in his eyes was quite interesting. If someone as picky about food as he was reacted like this, the business would work.

"This sauce is a family secret, you see."

The soldier's sauce certainly deserved to be called a secret recipe. He watched Dunbachel for her reaction. The fellow had unusual tastes.

Encrid kept his training to a minimum and ate, drank, and rested. His body had yet to recover fully.

While the soldiers at the rear were busy making things and cooking, some of those toward the front had a different air about them. Garrett's Battalion had relatively few troops available for combat, and these were its finest: the plains scouts, known as the Green Pearl ranger unit.

"Heading out to scout?"

"Who are you? What unit?"

He was clearly an ally, but scouting was dangerous work. They could not simply answer a stranger who wandered over to talk. Several soldiers eyed him warily.

"I'm here with the reinforcements."

Encrid showed them his shoulder insignia, which bore Border Guard's tall watchtower emblem.

"Don't see how that's any of your business."

The speaker was at least special-grade by Naurilia's soldier grading system. He was short, but looked agile.

Encrid took in the man's nimble build, light equipment, and habitual center of gravity.

'Uses footwork to gain position, then settles things with a stab.'

A stiletto dangled at his waist.

What he had learned through the Isolation Technique, and what Audin had taught him, allowed him to gauge the man's training by sight. That was the conclusion he reached.

"Here. Eat."

Encrid pulled seasoned jerky from inside his clothes and tossed it over. The special-grade soldier caught it and asked, still looking suspicious:

"What is it?"

"Try it. It's good."

After nibbling a little from the end, the soldier tore off a long strip.

"Got any bread? Try dipping it in this."

Encrid handed marmalade to the soldier beside him as well. These were Border Guard specialties. If someone thought they tasted bad, there was something wrong with their tongue.

Supplies were not scarce, but neither were they abundant. Defending such a small area left few opportunities to go hunting. Monsters sometimes caused trouble too, and those nearby had to be cleared out. Apart from a few archers manning the watchtowers, the unit's main strength lay in its rangers. It had no cavalry at all.

"This is good."

One scout murmured. The special-grade fighter, who appeared to be the scout captain, snorted.

"Don't know what you're after, but did you report to your immediate superior before wandering around?"

He had not. Well, he could do it now. Encrid reported to his superior. In other words, he silently reported to himself, received an answer, and replied:

"You've been working hard, so I'm giving you something. Just eat."

"You're a strange one."

Encrid continued touring the encampment while concentrating on eating and resting. There was much to learn by looking around. The watchtowers were clustered in a small area. A compact defensive perimeter would make holding the position easier. It also left them more vulnerable to flanking attacks, but some risks had to be accepted.

On the fourth afternoon after Encrid's arrival, as the sun was setting, a messenger came rushing into camp. Every eye turned toward him.

"The enemy is right on our doorstep!"

The messenger's words spread from the command tent to the camp outside.