Chapter 335 - This Is Training, Brother

This is training. Brother. Nobles, trading companies, mayors from one city or another—the visitors kept coming, but Encrid no longer paid them any mind. That was all right. Krais was doing a fine job of keeping them at bay. Told to come up with something, he had done precisely that. Even when some crafty old noble arrived demanding, "You mean I have come all this way and cannot meet a mere soldier of this city?" Krais answered like a doll.

"Yes. You cannot." Some occasionally tried a show of force, but Krais had the Frog Meellun as his bodyguard.

"Want a fight?"

Few had the nerve to attack in the face of a Frog's threat. Encrid and the people around him were the strange ones. This was normal. Not that Krais simply acted unreasonably or drove them away by force.

"He is preparing for an important engagement."

He offered a suitable excuse.

"Central command is directly involved in this matter."

And threw in the royal palace's backing. That kept the petty nobles out. As for the merchants, he did not even have to deal with them himself.

"If you have something to discuss, go to the Roquefried trading company. They have an exclusive contract with the lord."

All he had to do was pass them along. Leona Roquefried was indeed capable. She deftly handled and disposed of most small and midsize trading companies on her own.

"Does the name Roquefried carry so little weight?"

Invoking the company's name alone did half the work. Even a sizable trading company under some noble's patronage posed no problem. What they wanted was to secure trade routes and generate profits through Encrid. Leona promised them just that.

"The trade routes will expand. Our company cannot take everything for itself anyway." Naturally, the merchants who had been pushing their way in to curry favor with Encrid flocked to Leona instead. She picked through them, selecting the worthwhile ones. Recognizing value and extracting it was her specialty. Watching her work, Krais could hardly have been more satisfied with his choice. 'One glimpse of the Captain's face, and something that could have become so complicated ends this simply.'

Without Encrid, he might still have been negotiating countless minor details with Leona. No one could deny that Encrid had played a part in her decision to set all those details aside and take this on. What a precious face. Here was a man destined to be the salon's star attraction and ace. Krais keeping the visitors out so effectively did not mean Encrid had time on his hands. No, now he was busy doing what he truly wanted.

"Come at me!"

Obsessed with sparring as he was, he could hardly be anything but busy.

"Try not to die."

Occasionally giving Rem's verbal wit a workout as well, Encrid threw himself into their bouts. The sparring was brutal. From the outside, it might have looked like madness, with their lives half thrown away, but it benefited both Encrid and Rem. Naturally, Dunbachel and Teresa joined in, and Audin lent a hand. Only Ragna stayed out. Now and then he swung his sword at empty air or sank into a meditation-like doze. Everyone except Ragna was inwardly astonished by Encrid. They could not help it.

'When did he get this far?'

Dunbachel felt the gap between them widen further, while Teresa now faced a wall she could not overcome even with all her half-Giant strength and every trick she knew. Of course, neither the wall nor the gap made either of them give up. Before their very eyes stood someone who had clawed his way up from the bottom. Giving up was not something they could discuss in front of a man like that. Emotionally or physically. "Giving up? Too hard? Oh, our poor Beastman is having a hard time. Sure. That happens. Then how about just dying? If it's too hard, you should die."

The slightest sign of surrender from Dunbachel would bring Rem over. "Sister, the scriptures say that sometimes a different shock makes one forget the original pain."

Audin, too, would step in without hesitation to administer that different shock—physical violence—to Teresa himself. Of course, neither woman so much as spoke of giving up. 'I, too.'

Teresa simply renewed her resolve. Dunbachel was no different. Looking upward and advancing, then advancing again, had become second nature to both women. Their mindset was distinctly different from before. Both had ears, and they had heard what sort of man Encrid had been and how he had come this far. According to Rem and the soldiers around them, his beginnings had been humble. Very humble indeed. "He used to be under me. I was a little better-looking, too."

That nonsense had come from a fellow named Vengeance, but the other soldiers' accounts did not differ in substance. A roaming mercenary with the ability of a low-grade soldier. That was who Encrid had been. Now that man had become someone entirely different. A hero of the city and the battlefield, the man who had set most of Border Guard's children playing at training with wooden swords. Was this what the scriptures meant by humble beginnings leading to a glorious end? Teresa found herself thinking so. As for Dunbachel—

'I won't fall behind.'

She clenched her molars and struggled desperately. Without even realizing it, her efforts began to resemble Encrid's own desperate struggle. Naturally, how the Beastman and half-Giant viewed him was hardly Encrid's concern. Besides training and sparring, he made good use of his time visiting the smithy and attending to other matters. No, he had to use it well. He was not impatient, but neither could he let time slip idly by. Had he not seen a knight's sword? By striking it first, he had even managed a semblance of blocking it. It had been only once, but the very act of crossing swords with a knight had broadened his world and brightened the starlight over his path. The dream that had come to him as death itself had receded into starlight. Its lingering glow lit the way. Naturally, his motivation surged higher than ever. That was why training that looked like an unending succession of harshness and suffering to others brought Encrid unprecedented joy and exhilaration. "What is this?"

Border Guard's self-proclaimed finest blacksmith examined the sword gifted by an enemy proto knight over and over. Its silver blade and finish, the grip wrapped in demonic beast hide, even its round pommel.

"This is exceptional work." When Encrid showed him the gladius and Spark as well, his eyes nearly rolled out of his head. They shone.

"Even the forging methods are different. These aren't human-made weapons."

His discerning eye recognized the value of Spark and the gladius as well. "Planning to use all three?"

They had known each other for a very long time. The blacksmith still spoke casually to him. To this craftsman, his work mattered more than Encrid's rank as Company Commander. Blacksmiths had guilds to protect their interests, but no such guild existed in Border Guard. Apart from those making farm tools, most were practically in military service. Rather than enjoy a stable life in some guild, this man had come here to challenge himself and improve his craft. Encrid respected the craftsman. He thought this man, too, was running after something akin to a dream of his own.

"I do it because it's my job. No need to dress it up with grand words."

Of course, asked directly, the man would probably dismiss the idea as nonsense and say just that. Still, he would take immense pride in his work. Even watching the blacksmith reminded Encrid of his dream. Perhaps his motivation had simply grown too strong lately. Still unable to take his eyes off the three swords, the blacksmith asked,

"What exactly do you want done?" "They've seen rough use, so I thought you could give them some attention. I also need fifty thin, well-balanced throwing knives, some iron plates suitable for reinforcing these greaves, and my gauntlets have fallen apart, so all my armor needs replacing..." For a mercenary, good equipment was another life. That remained true now that he was a proto knight and could wield Will, even if only fragments of it.

'What if I'd been holding a cheap longsword when I faced the knight's sword?'

That would have been a peculiarly grating, infuriating business. Above all, a fine weapon that fit one's hand brought joy to a swordsman. That, too, was part of his ability. In that regard, the knight who had visited earlier had been arrogant not to bring his favored weapon. Excessively confident. Encrid had escaped thanks to that, but was such arrogance something to learn? Or, having witnessed the failure arrogance brought, should he make sure not to repeat it? He chose the latter. He invested Krona in equipment and arms as well. "The bill?"

"Send it to the castle."

"Will do."

The lord would cover the cost. The craftsman tended the edges of all three swords, honed them on a whetstone, and inspected them thoroughly. None had any problems. Encrid had learned a fair amount about weapon maintenance during his mercenary years, but a craftsman's touch was different. Still, he could hardly neglect his training just to learn that. "Oh, I'd also like to look at spears, blunt weapons like maces, and axes. Do you have any ready?"

While he was there, Encrid ordered a few more weapons. In truth, it was less a few than an entire assortment. At that, the craftsman looked at Encrid. Having examined only the swords and equipment until now, he finally met his eyes. The look seemed to ask what he would use them for.

"Yes, I'll be using them myself." Encrid had ordered them because he needed them, and since he had placed the order, the blacksmith simply nodded. He knew a thing or two himself. How could the fame Encrid had won on the battlefield have escaped his ears alone? He would have complied without a word even with a stranger request. After losing himself in the three swords for a while, the blacksmith wondered whether he could forge a better blade. Someday he would try, and the man before him would be the first to see it. He was determined to make that happen. If the man liked his sword, they could discuss Krona then. "I'll have someone bring the other weapons over with your equipment later."

"All right."

Afterward came more time devoted entirely to training. "Tighten your muscles and brace them. That is how you gain muscles like steel."

It was time for dawn training. Encrid did not tilt his head at Audin's words, but he did voice a question.

"You mean a body that won't be injured even by a sword?"

"Precisely, brother. You understand perfectly." That was impossible. Encrid did not say so aloud, but Audin spoke first.

"It is possible."

Before Encrid could even ask how. "You should already know the method. There is nothing wrong with questions and answers, but sometimes reaching understanding on your own is the better path, is it not?"

The answer lay in his question. Encrid nodded. What followed made all their training until now seem laughable. Audin picked up a hammer with its head thickly padded in cloth.

"What are you going to do with that?"

Dunbachel's voice betrayed her unease.

"Training, Sister. Get in line if you wish." Dunbachel did not get in line. This was not right. Even if she did it someday, that day was not today. She wanted to absorb everything Encrid had to offer, but this was best left for later. Encrid, however, silently followed Audin's instruction. This was the result. THUD! It was simple. Brace and get hit. That was all. Audin struck Encrid's side with the cloth-padded hammer. He had not hit particularly hard, but it was still a blow that would have broken an ordinary person's ribs and jarred their organs. "Oh, excellent!"

Audin struck with just the right amount of force. A glance was enough for him to gauge the durability of Encrid's body. And Encrid took the blows. "Isn't that just torture?"

Krais spoke as he passed. Busy enough to be hurrying along, he nevertheless found the sight impossible to look away from. "Training that will all become flesh and blood. Get in line if you wish, brother."

"If you do that to me, Audin, it's murder."

Krais spoke with utmost seriousness, then ran. He fled so fast his feet were a blur. Yes, off you go. Watching Krais retreat, Encrid drew a breath.

"Hup."

"Brace your core, the center of your body. The moment you falter, something will break. Now."

Audin's words reached him, and the cloth-wrapped hammer struck his side again. THWACK. The shock raced through his entire body. A jolt shot through his head.

'Is he enjoying this?'

Encrid wondered through the pain. Could Audin be enjoying hitting him? The corners of his mouth seemed higher than usual. He always wore a faint smile, but now it seemed a little wider. Outwardly, the smile looked truly benevolent. But one must not be fooled by appearances.

'The devil comes with an angel's face.'

Encrid repeated the scriptural passage he had heard so often that he had memorized it without realizing. "I look forward to the day we remove the cloth, brother."

Even striking him through thick wads of cloth was going too far, yet Audin was already talking about the next step. Encrid smiled faintly.

"So do I." If this truly meant nothing, it would have been pointless. But that was not the case.

'The Will.'

Will—willpower—was stirring. Something derived from the Will of refusal settled into his body and performed something akin to refusal. Was it refusing the impact? No. This was different. It was enduring. Among the techniques knights used were several standardized arts. Intimidation was one of them. That was why so many proto knights made it their specialty: intimidation was considered a foundational stage. Naturally, other arts existed as well. One such standardized, widely known art was Endure. Also called the power to withstand, it had originally been a paladin technique but had since spread throughout the knight orders. As for its purpose:

'The instinctive reaction at the moment of impact.'

It was like a suit of iron armor worn around the body to let one ignore that reaction. Skillfully extending it over the entire body formed part of a knight's fundamentals. That gave them flesh that even a blade could not cut. 'Ah.'

That was why the brown-haired knight had been surprised when Ragna's sword cut him. Encrid understood something else as well.

'Will.'

Training muscles alone could not produce a body that withstood blades. But what if he clothed his body in determination, as though wrapping it in iron armor? Another signpost had appeared. Had witnessing such a brutish training method spurred him on? There was no telling. Encrid's sparring with Rem also grew more savage than ever. "Can't go easy on you like before. You've improved a lot. Really."

Rem held two axes. After sixteen exchanges, Encrid left a cut on his cheek. Hence those words. "Oh, did that hurt? I should have gone a little easier on you."

"Right, let's do that. Let's see you die today."

"I'll burn you and scatter you over the river." The abbreviated reply could hardly have been more provocative. What would he burn and scatter? Rem's remains. He was telling Rem to die instead. Why did he have to make it sound so grand? Ragna's transformation had made Rem feel a little impatient. He had felt the need to change himself. So he had spent more time training. He had begun swinging his axes at empty air. Brimming motivation set his body in motion. Provocation like this did not feel bad. Rem's presence changed. Even as he watched it happen, Encrid finished what he had to say.

"You said you had a sling?"

At the urging to use a new weapon, Rem lost himself in focus, forgot his surroundings, and drew it.