Chapter 326 - It Was an Honor

It had been an honor. Encrid had been left half-dead after receiving the knight's sword, but two days of illness had brought some improvement. His monstrous powers of recovery had come through again. Naturally, he was nowhere near fully healed. 'Still can't put any strength into my grip.'

Perhaps it was fortunate that his shoulders had dislocated immediately after taking the blow. Had he held out longer, the strain would have done even more damage to his forearms and the rest of his arm muscles. He could hardly call himself well, but he couldn't miss the party. No, it would be more accurate to say that even if he wanted to rest, he couldn't have any peace. The people around him wouldn't allow it. "Captain!"

Starting with Helma, soldiers he knew began visiting his tent one by one. "Would you like a bite of eel?"

The soldier who cooked came too. "You were magnificent."

There was also a commander from the scouts, along with several soldiers who had made smart remarks for no reason. A few looked awkward, but they showed their faces in the end. "It was an honor to fight beside you."

They all said the same thing. Encrid looked steadily at them. They had come in excited, but when he said nothing, they all fell silent. They couldn't so much as move their lips. Silence settled. Cold winter air blew through the tent entrance, leaving a chill against their skin. The fine hairs on several soldiers stood on end. 'Did I run my mouth too much back then?'

'Seems like it.'

The soldiers began watching him nervously. "Um, Captain?"

Unable to watch any longer, Helma spoke. Encrid looked at her without a trace of a smile. He didn't need to gather his thoughts. He was merely going to say what he had always thought. He simply wanted to look at each of their faces before speaking. The way to fill words with sincerity, rather than let them drift away as empty nonsense, was to look directly at the other person and truly recognize who they were before speaking. He had learned that much from watching that fellow Krang. So that was what Encrid did. He acted on what he'd learned. It might have chilled his listeners like a bitter north wind, but he thought it more important to speak sincerely, from the heart. "For me, too..."

Encrid began to speak. Hadn't he spoken of honor after receiving a knight's sword? Fighting beside these men was a similar honor to Encrid. No, a greater one. Why wouldn't it be? They were part of the army, people who had taken up spears to protect their families, friends, and lives. Some might have taken up a spear for a few Krona, but were they any different? In the end, they still had to fight for the comrades beside them. The word comradeship existed for a reason. In that respect, they were all the same. They risked their lives scouting enemy territory. They had served as the army's eyes and hands. Without them, he couldn't have fought as he did. How could it not be an honor? For the same reason, there was no need to hide his respect for them. He simply opened his mouth and said what he had to say.

"...it was an honor."

Encrid finished his sentence. After a brief silence, one of the soldiers who heard him smacked himself on the head. A sharp thwack rang out. "... Ah, fuck. I'm an idiot."

The soldier muttered the words. He was one of those who had been particularly critical of Encrid. Helma burst out laughing. The soldier looked at her and declared with grim resolve,

"Go to him! If it's the Captain, you have my blessing!" "What are you talking about, you idiot?"

Helma caught his neck and tucked his head under her arm. He choked and gasped, but didn't ask her to let go. But was it right for them to call him Captain when they had their own commander? When Encrid asked whether that was all right, the middle-aged man beside him, holding up a bottle of wine he'd brought and proclaimed excellent, answered. "Of course it is. You're the Captain!"

It turned out this man was the officer in charge of their unit. Their own commander was leading the way in calling him that. And that wasn't all. Nurat arrived.

"Is the Captain all right?"

He heard her whisper to Krais. When had those two become close? Nurat was Battalion Commander Garrett's personal bodyguard and adjutant. In other words, she ought to have addressed Encrid as Company Commander or something similar. Yet she too simply called him Captain. As he listened, Encrid began to get a general idea of what was happening.

"Hey, Captain, tell us a story. I'm dying to hear what you've been up to!"

Even Garrett was saying it. Encrid had charged into the enemy ranks alone and begun swinging his sword. That had tilted the course of the fighting from the very first day. He had gone missing afterward, and all sorts of things had happened, but what was the most striking sight the soldiers had witnessed? One man's back. The sword one man wielded. The presence of a man named Encrid. "The Captain's Sword!"

Someone who had watched him fight had given him that strange nickname, and now everyone kept calling him Captain. An even stranger nickname had spread thanks to the medics who had reset his shoulders.

"They also call you the Sword of Endurance."

Krais always had an ear for news. He had heard it and passed it along. It was an awfully grand name to earn simply by being damned good at enduring pain. In truth, Lunatic Company Commander still circulated more widely than any of those other nicknames, but nicknames would fade soon enough. The victory celebration lasted two days. As his battered body recovered, Encrid felt the importance of rest firsthand and devoted himself to it. In other words, he ate, drank, and rested. "Eel!"

"Trout!"

All manner of seafood, roast suckling pig, wine, and even expensive whiskey made the rounds. "To the Captain's Sword!"

"Let's eat ourselves to death!" Garrett could hold his liquor better than Encrid had expected. Encrid had never lost a drinking contest himself, but Garrett could really drink. Even after polishing off three or four bottles of spirits alone, he sang in a clear, ringing voice. This evidently wasn't the first time. Several soldiers punctuated his song with a chorus of shouts. "Hurrah!"

When the world calls us!

"Hurrah!"

They say we sell our swords for gold!

"Hurrah!"

And so we sell our swords for gold!

"Hurrah!"

We are mercenaries!

"Hurrah!"

We sell our swords for gold!

"Hurrah!"

Mercenaries who stake our lives on loyalty! Encrid had heard the song during his wanderings across the continent. Never, however, had he heard it sung so beautifully. Garrett seemed born with that voice. In terms of swordsmanship, it was a straight, flowing sword. His voice burst forth when it needed to, then softly enveloped his listeners. As the soldiers shouted their hurrahs, Garrett finished his song and approached the seated Encrid.

"I've already written a song about you, too."

Encrid tilted his head at that. He'd written what? "I'll sing it for you later."

Garrett patted his belly and laughed. His personality was as likable as his looks. He really was a decent man. Marcus hadn't stationed him here for nothing. Come to think of it, Graham, Border Guard's lord and battalion commander, had shown no concern about betrayal either. Krais had been the one worrying. Encrid realized anew just how needless those worries had been. "All right. I'll listen then."

He'd had a few drinks. They had won, and his insights had been followed by new lessons. He had received a knight's sword and spoken of honor. Now he was celebrating victory with people he could call his comrades. That, too, was enjoyable. A few soldiers watching him whispered that he was human after all. Of course he was human. What else, a monster? "You people clearly don't get it. The Captain will party and drink like this, then start training first thing tomorrow morning! I'd stake this on it. He'll be training at dawn again. The man's insane!" Apparently well and truly tipsy, Krais rattled on with great enthusiasm. As he spoke, he slapped his crotch a few times. Presumably as a joke, he had wagered his manhood. "Really?"

"Don't believe me? Place a bet." It all unfolded naturally. Krais raked in copper and silver coins from some of the soldiers. Encrid tuned him out after the first few remarks. His little scheme was obvious. There was no reason to listen closely. His eyes met Ragna's as the man drank off to one side. Ragna merely dipped his head, and Encrid raised his cup to him. 'Thank you.'

He had said it to the ferryman, but the words were meant for everyone, Ragna included. He had created Crushing Sword. What if Ragna hadn't been there to help? He would have found a path somehow and followed it. That was what Encrid would have done. But Ragna's presence had certainly shortened the time it took. No, he now knew that he needed the bastard around. Enough that if Ragna said he was leaving, he would at least ask whether he truly meant it. That must also be why he'd spoken to Jaxon as though his return were a given when the man left on a brief errand. 'Am I being selfish?'

Keeping people around him. Keeping them close. Was that really right? 'Do I need a wall to hide my paltry abilities behind?'

It was an extension of a thought that had crossed his mind when he was young. Of course, it was pointless now. Paltry abilities? Encrid clenched and opened his fist. The pain was lessening by the moment, thanks to his regenerative body, the healing flesh built upon the Isolation Technique. His body had changed. The sword he wielded had changed. His attitude wasn't much different from before, but there was no denying the changes. 'No.'

They weren't a wall. They were his friends. His comrades. Sometimes his teachers, sometimes fellow members of the unit fighting beside him. He would ask them. At a crucial crossroads, he would be sure to ask. No, he would tell them. Tell them they could leave. What if the path led to certain death, as it had this time?

'I'll use today.' He was prepared to make use of even the curse. It was an active approach, rather than his former passive attitude. That wouldn't change his determination to do everything he could to escape today. And if even that today could make no difference, he would let them leave. That was the right path. Encrid didn't wrestle with the question. There was no anguish. He simply decided. "Let's eat ourselves to death!"

Off to one side, Helma shouted with her shirt off. Only her breasts remained covered. Wasn't she cold? He could see her abdominal muscles, and the scars on her body. "You're my woman!"

One soldier's cheek earned him blows to the head and stomach. He rolled aside and threw up the contents of his belly. Oh, sure. She was his woman, all right. Encrid chuckled. For this one day, he put aside needless thoughts and focused on resting. ["Your mind needs rest just as much as your body, brother."]

Hadn't Audin said that too? He even forgot to ponder his techniques. For just one day, he thought about nothing. He simply lived in the present, passing through a today whose time did not stop. A today that would never return. What could be more precious? Encrid laughed, ate, and drank. "A cook. I'm going to be a cook."

The soldier who was good at cooking had wandered over and begun mumbling, so Encrid humored him.

"Why are you telling me?"

"Please come and give me your custom." Look at this fellow's business sense. Not quite up to Krais's level, but not bad. "I will."

"I'm honored." At the soldier's words, two others watching nearby suddenly chimed in.

"For me, too..."

"...it's an honor." Were they imitating him? These two had drunk themselves out of their minds, hadn't they? Laughing, Encrid smacked both of them on the head.

"Ow!"

The two soldiers took their blows with laughter. What was that pathetic imitation supposed to be? At dawn the next day, Encrid resumed training despite having slept only two hours. He was merely loosening up and warming his body without overdoing it, but several soldiers who woke half-dead from their hangovers rubbed their eyes at the sight. 'After all that drinking, eating, and partying yesterday, he's up training at dawn? Is this for real?' What could he do? Encrid's body had become more comfortable exercising than not. Naturally, Krais made a little money from the bets. After three days of rest, Encrid had more or less put himself back together. It was time to return. He still couldn't walk properly, so Garrett provided a carriage. Just before departure, Garrett faced Encrid.

"Company Commander Encrid."

"Did you have something to say?" Hadn't he pestered Encrid endlessly for stories of his experiences and battles? Of course, telling them wasn't difficult, but having a middle-aged man stare at him with such sparkling eyes could be a little much. He'd even said he'd written some sort of song. Encrid hadn't heard it yet. "Want to be Green Pearl's battalion commander?"

Garrett made the offer with a yawn, his shoulder resting against the carriage. There wasn't the slightest hint of tension. Encrid had already turned down a similar offer. A better one, to be honest: battalion commander and lord of Border Guard. "No, I don't."

Garrett chuckled at his immediate refusal.

"Thought so."

"Then why ask?"

"I'm retiring."

"But why me?"

"I think my successor's going to have a rough time." Encrid's eyes asked what sort of rough time, and Garrett launched into an explanation.

"The pressure from central command is no joke in this position. Lord Marcus seems to be shielding us from some of it there for now, but who knows how long he'll keep that up? More importantly, things are going to shit, aren't they?" Encrid was wondering what he meant when Krais cut in from behind.

"You mean it looks like a civil war could break out?" Once again, it was a conversation only those two understood, though Encrid caught some of it. Driving off the external threat of Aspen was good, but in another sense it might set something else in motion. Naturally, it wasn't an immediate concern. Encrid paid it no mind. For now. 'A knight's sword.'

He was too busy absorbing what he had gained. In other words, he returned to Border Guard sitting half-asleep in the carriage. With his Captain so indifferent, Krais wasn't particularly concerned either. He, too, thought it wouldn't happen anytime soon. When they reached Border Guard, familiar faces were, naturally, the first to greet him. "You're back?"

"Teresa the Wanderer welcomes you, Captain."

"Brother, was your journey peaceful?" Only then did Encrid truly feel he had returned.