Chapter 33 - A Goal

Puzzlement entered the Company Commander's emerald-green eyes as she listened to the Platoon Commander's report.

"With just ten men?" The other squads' scouting missions had been entirely uneventful. The only incident of note was an encounter with Aspen infantry scouts on the plains. Rather than fight, the two parties had kept their distance and gone their separate ways.

Naturally, Aspen would have scouts out as well, so encounters on the plains were hardly rare. If anything, meeting them only once was strange. But what Encrid's unit had done was on another level altogether. Discovering that the enemy lay in ambush in the tall-grass fields and was up to something—that much she could understand.

But infiltrating the enemy camp and setting it on fire with a mere ten soldiers? 'What the hell is this bastard?'

Encrid had been at the center of it all. It had been the same with the assassin incident. Whenever things took a strange turn, that Squad Leader Encrid seemed to be there.

Was he simply unlucky? Yet he had a remarkable knack for surviving bad luck. He was never merely present; time and again, he distinguished himself, if that was the word for it. His skills were nothing special, but the results always exceeded expectations. Hadn't they managed to protect the target from the assassin because that Squad Leader had held out? And that was nothing compared to this. Merely infiltrating the enemy camp and bringing back information deserved more rewards than she could give him. "Yes, according to their accounts," the Platoon Commander replied.

Ten had infiltrated enemy territory. Only five had died, while the other five had returned with an absurd achievement to their names. And these weren't elite special-grade troops trained by the Cyprus Division. They were ten scouts led by a lowest-grade soldier. The Company Commander was intrigued.

'Encrid, Encrid.'

What the hell was this bastard, really? How could someone with such unremarkable skills pull this off? It wasn't worth agonizing over.

'Luck.'

She decided he was simply lucky. What else could it be? Unless he had somehow memorized every unit's position as though he'd taken a look inside the enemy commander's head.

That was even more ridiculous. The theory that he was a spy trained by the Principality of Aspen would be more plausible. But that made just as little sense. What idiot would train and send a spy like him? A mere soldier with pathetic skills who had barely made Squad Leader? "Shall I summon the Squad Leader so you can verify his account?"

"If he were stupid enough to lie about something like this, he'd have died long ago."

Still seated, the Company Commander rested her chin on her fist and thought. They could put Squad Leader Encrid down to luck. What were the Aspen bastards after? First, she had to inform the Battalion Commander. That was the proper order of things.

Her mind made up, she rose.

"Where are you going?"

Who had made this idiot a Platoon Commander?

She shoved the moron aside.

"To the Battalion Commander's tent."

After something like this, surely reporting it came first.

* * *

Rem was bored. There weren't even any minor skirmishes, and he had nothing in particular to do. Both armies were busy holding their positions and glaring at each other.

Rumors had begun circulating through the unit that this year's war would end just like this. "Well, that's how it goes. Winter's almost here, and the fighting on these plains isn't going to end overnight, is it? So they'll leave it for next year again."

That was Krais, who always had his ear to the ground. Rather than his personal opinion, it was probably a conclusion pieced together from all the rumors going around. Whatever Krais had to say, Rem had no interest in this crap. This battlefield saw fighting every year? Aspen and Naurilia used to be on good terms? What did he care?

'Not a damn thing to do.' He passed the time honing his axe blades a little, then juggling the axes, but that didn't change the fact that he had nothing to do. The boredom was driving him mad.

Everyone else seemed to have something to occupy them. "You want cigarettes for that price? Are you nuts? Got an arrowhead stuck in your skull?"

Off to one side, Big-eyes was busy hawking things nonstop. Something about profits falling off for a while once the fighting ended, so he had to make all he could now.

He certainly worked hard. "What? An arrowhead?"

Sometimes people took one look at Big-eyes' small frame and tried to glare him down. Intimidating those types had become one of Rem's minor pastimes. All he had to do was look at them while licking his freshly honed axe blade. He didn't hone the edge all that sharp to begin with. Sharpen it enough to cut a finger at the slightest touch and it would chip easily. Unless magic or a master craftsman's handiwork was involved, this was the right way to care for it.

So licking the blade wouldn't cut his tongue. "... Well, an arrow did hit my helmet in the last battle."

Why pick a fight if he was going to tuck his tail so quickly?

"Cigarettes are hard to come by, you know. Now, how many did you need?"

Krais promptly raised his voice again. He was every inch a merchant. That sly alley cat Jaxon spent more time prowling outside than staying in the barracks. The religious nut would pray, then plant his head on the floor with a deeply miserable expression, forever muttering, "God, give me an answer."

Watching him made Rem reluctant to go near him. Didn't everything he did reek of a crazed fanatic? Why the hell was that bastard always like that? That left Ragna, who wasted his days doing nothing and sleeping at every damn opportunity. Apparently he never got bored of spending all day zoning out, sleeping, zoning out, sleeping.

Was that fun? 'It's too damn boring without you, Squad Leader.'

Grumbling inwardly, Rem wondered whether the Squad Leader might have gotten himself killed. Scouting missions were dangerous. His skills had improved a great deal, but by Rem's standards, he was still embarrassingly bad.

What if he was dead? That would be a bit of a shame. No, a real shame. 'Tch. Have I gotten attached to him already?'

From what he'd seen, the man really would be a waste to let die. But following him around to protect him would be ridiculous. Who was he, anyway? Nobody. Just someone Rem had happened to meet and taken a liking to.

'Someone I like?' Come to think of it, such people were rare. How many had Rem met in his entire life? He found himself hoping the man would return alive.

Not that he was anxious. The Squad Leader wasn't the sort to fall to some half-assed nobody. After all those idle thoughts, Rem was still bored and could no longer sit still. Whether the Squad Leader was dead or alive, he had to do something about his boredom right now.

"Do I want to kill you, by any chance?"

He chose a simple solution, giving the idly reclining Ragna a nudge with his foot as he spoke. Ragna stared up at him, his eyes asking what the hell this bastard thought he was doing.

"Are you doing this because you want to die?"

He was serious.

"I'm bored. Let's have a bout." No more needed to be said. Jaxon, who had briefly returned to the barracks, saw them and walked past without a second glance. The religious nut was busy planting his head on the floor with his usual miserable expression. Krais was away.

By mutual agreement, the two went outside. CLINK.

They lightly touched axe and sword to signal the start, then began swinging their weapons at each other. WHOOSH!

Rem's arm curved, bringing his axe crashing down with terrifying force. Ragna twisted clear of the blade and thrust his sword forward. The sharp attack aimed at Rem's belly was twice as polished as the stab Squad Leader Encrid had demonstrated countless times. Rem drove hard off his toes and leaped backward.

THUD.

Footprints remained where his feet had been. Their exchange would have astonished anyone with the eye to appreciate it.

Encrid arrived just as their fight reached its peak.

* * *

"Kill him!" an excited soldier shouted.

A sizeable crowd had already gathered to watch. Why was the troublemaker squad called the troublemaker squad? Because it was a collection of men with all sorts of problems. Then why did the army keep such a troublesome bunch around?

Their skill, of course. With two of them showing what they could do, how could it not draw a crowd? CLANG!

Sword met axe, stirring up dust around them.

SWISH!

Even so, neither took his eyes off the other. SCRAAAPE.

The axe blade seemed to drop straight down, only to scrape across the ground. Small stones flew from its edge. Ragna avoided the low sweep and brought his sword down from above.

WHOOSH. Even with eyes wide open, it was impossible to see the blade's path. The sword that had been overhead was suddenly descending in a slash at Rem's neck.

CLANG!

Once again, axe and sword collided. Sparks flew from their weapons. "Insane," muttered the Commander of Fourth Company's Second Platoon.

At a glance, they seemed several times better than he was. Several other soldiers who prided themselves on their skills clicked their tongues in amazement. Some were close to reaching high grade. Every one of them could feel the gulf in ability. Of course, some in the crowd were sizing the pair up.

'I could do that much.'

'I'd have finished it by now.'

They could only think that because they mistook what they were seeing for the full extent of the pair's abilities. Encrid stood rooted to the spot, eyes wide. None of the chatter around him reached his ears. His eyes were wholly occupied with following their movements, while his mind concentrated on facing their sword and axe himself.

A bead of sweat ran down the tip of his nose. Simply watching and concentrating was enough to drench him from head to toe. Sometimes, watching alone could improve one's skills. Though no one had intended it, Encrid realized in that moment what he needed to do.

'I can't keep doing things the way I have.' Everyone had an approach that suited them, whether learning swordsmanship or conditioning the body. And Encrid possessed something no one else did: the curse of a repeating today. The endlessly rising walls the eyeless ferryman had spoken of.

That meant he needed a new method suited to it, rather than ordinary training and practice. Watching their axe and sword, he saw that method take shape in his mind. Excitement and insight came in an instant, then cooled just as quickly, like a pot doused with cold water. Watching this bout that scarcely qualified as sparring, Encrid had to admit it: he had never yet drawn out either man's true ability.

Neither Rem nor Ragna had ever shown him anything like this when they sparred. Quite apart from their strength and speed, their expressions made it clear. Rem was grinning. He looked utterly delighted. Ragna's face, too, brimmed with life. It was an expression rarely seen on him. How many todays had he repeated? How many moments of death had he endured? Yet even now, he couldn't give either of them a serious fight.

That was where he stood.

But he wasn't discouraged. If this much were enough to make him give up, he could never have begun in the first place. Instead, he found it exciting.

He had a goal now. 'Those expressions.'

As he watched them, he resolved to put those same expressions on their faces when they fought him. That pleased Encrid immensely. He could see a new path, and he had the time to walk it.

Nothing, truly nothing, could have delighted him more. TRRRING.

Axe and sword grazed each other with a peculiar ringing sound. At the same moment, Rem and Ragna sprang apart. Both had worked up quite a sweat; perspiration visibly ran down Ragna's forehead.

Rem let out a long breath and grinned. "Not bad for a bastard who does nothing but sleep."

Ragna snorted.

"Who are you to judge, barbarian? All you do is bully weaklings." Despite their cutting words, they lowered sword and axe. Neither needed to speak to know the other's condition. Any further, and they would have to fight with their lives on the line. That might have happened if both had gotten carried away, but not now.

They had held something in reserve throughout the bout. While fighting, both had spotted a familiar face among the spectators: their Squad Leader. Proof that they had enough to spare even in combat to look around.

"Enjoying the show? If you're going to keep staring, come play with me."

Rem's abrupt remark quickly scattered the crowd. Once everyone else had dispersed, only a bedraggled Encrid remained. "You're back?"

Rem greeted him, and Ragna acknowledged him with a look as well. The fight was over. Encrid had returned safely, too. Soon Jaxon emerged, combing his tousled red hair with his fingers. Krais spotted the Squad Leader and came running as well.

"You've returned, sir?"

"Squad Leader!"

"God has watched over you."

The religious squad member offered his own greeting. Six men in all. The entire roster of what should have been a ten-man squad.

As one of those six, Encrid announced his return.