Chapter 350 - The Knight Who Chooses a King

The wind and rain raged for another day, finally stopping just as they were growing sick of it. It truly was a tiresome amount of rain. "Let's rest before we go on."

Encrid spoke shortly after the rain stopped. Water dripped from his body, while far across the sky, sunlight threatened to peek through the clouds. Even that would soon sink into the west. They were about to leave the gloomy weather behind and enter the hours of true darkness. "Let's."

Rem nodded. The Lunatic Company wasn't the problem. Krang had held up well, too. The horses were the issue. They still had at least ten more days of riding ahead. They couldn't afford to exhaust their mounts already.

More importantly, remaining soaked was an easy way to fall ill. It would be a headache if anyone started coughing, and sick horses would be just as troublesome. The storm had kept them trudging onward without proper sleep. "You're going to spend the time we gained on this?"

The guard asked almost to himself. They had bought time by killing everyone who had come to kill them. Shouldn't they now be moving beyond the enemy's anticipated range? Encrid nodded at his words. Yes, this was how he would spend it. That seemed to be his answer.

The whip-bearing guard said nothing. What could he say here? His best course was simply to concentrate on protecting his lord. Arguing wouldn't make them listen, either. 'They'll know what they're doing.'

He had also developed something like trust, bordering on respect. "Rem, let's get a fire going."

"Seems to me you tend to give me all the annoying jobs. What do you think?"

"Do I? Shall I send Ragna, then?" If they sent him to find dry wood, they probably wouldn't see him again until this time next year.

"Forget it."

Rem waved the suggestion away. "Dunbachel, go with him."

Encrid supplied him with another pair of hands.

"... All right."

Dunbachel joined him, making her displeasure abundantly clear. Rem saw it and said,

"Want to fucking die?"

"I want to live. Nobody wants to die." Their voices gradually faded into the distance. It was idle banter. They left the highway and headed into the forest. Meanwhile, Encrid dug into the ground with Jaxon and Ragna. Odd-Eyes, who had followed them in a thoroughly sodden state, helped.

"Quite the talent."

Krang watched as the horse pawed at the ground, digging a hole. Encrid set a broad, flat stone on the ground. Despite the torrential rain, their baggage, wrapped in oiled cloth and leather, wouldn't have gotten wet. It contained no cooking utensils, though. What it did contain was salt and seasoned jerky.

He took those out. The flat stone would serve nicely for grilling the jerky. Despite the storm, Rem and Dunbachel managed to bring back branches that weren't completely soaked. Encrid split the half-wet branches himself to make kindling, then took flint from their baggage and lit a fire. Stones clicked together, and soon flames sprang up.

He blew on them, coaxing them higher, then added a few more branches. He would have built a larger fire if not for all the rain, but this was the best he could do. "Let's dry our clothes."

Apart from Esther, Dunbachel was the only woman, but transforming let her cover her entire body in fur. In other words, she readily stripped whether anyone was watching or not. A Beastman being embarrassed about nudity would have been laughable to begin with. "It's not about you. Spare everyone else the sight. Cover up."

Encrid taught Dunbachel consideration for others.

"Because I'm too attractive?"

"Pfft."

The panther snorted at that. Dunbachel let it pass without much concern. Encrid found that rather remarkable, too. It struck him anew that Esther got along reasonably well with every member of the company. Quite well, even.

Why? Was there any particular reason?

There was. It was how they treated her. They didn't shun Esther for being a mage. The world's perception of witches had nothing to do with them.

To Rem in particular, who practiced shamanic spells, she was practically a kindred spirit. What they did and what they could do were entirely different, but he felt an affinity nonetheless. That was why he was kind to her. Ragna didn't care whether Esther was a mage or a shaman. Audin might once have taken issue with her as a heretic, but not now. Watching Encrid had brought him understanding and opened a new world to him. He treated Esther with respect, calling her Sister as well. Teresa went without saying. She had seen plenty of mages among the Cultists. Compared with them, Esther was a positively sociable witch. Dunbachel was much the same. Esther did her no particular harm, and she was pretty. Dunbachel disliked her occasional attempts to monopolize the captain, but otherwise, she also liked Esther's long hair. It was wonderfully soft to the touch.

Even Esther sometimes let Dunbachel touch her hair. Their eyes held neither fear nor curiosity. Everyone simply recognized and respected her as an individual. How could she dislike them? 'Me, thinking well of people?'

It was rare for Esther, too, but she took it as a good sign. Mages existed to pursue inquiry, after all. Even this moment was worth investigating. What effect might these relationships have on her magic? It certainly warranted study. "Esther, dry your fur, too."

At Encrid's words, she obediently settled beside the campfire. Everyone dried their clothes. They wore only their underwear, letting its thin fabric dry on their bodies. The journey would take a month at most, yet a band of some thirty assassins had attacked on the first day, practically as soon as they set out. It could hardly be called a good start, but... "How about a drink?"

Rem was looking for liquor, Jaxon had already taken some out and was sipping it, and Encrid was asking whether he intended to share. None of them seemed to have a care in the world. "Do we have anything to drink?"

Krang asked as well, perhaps caught up in the mood. His guard shook his head. Liquor? He could only marvel that anyone could think of relaxing with a drink here. Jaxon handed Encrid a small bottle. Encrid took a sip and nodded.

"Apple wine."

"I met a master brewer where I went."

"Excellent."

Encrid was impressed. "Keeping it all to yourself?"

Rem walked up to Jaxon and boldly held out his hand. Without rising, Jaxon drew a dagger and slashed. Rem pulled his hand back out of the way.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Weren't you offering me your wrist to cut off?"

"Captain, surely you wouldn't mind if I killed one alley cat?" Encrid took another sip of apple wine and watched the two bicker, even here. Then he stoppered the bottle in his hand and tossed it. Rem caught it.

Jaxon didn't object to the captain sharing it. That ended the fight. Once they'd cooled off a little, the two turned away, ignoring each other. Rem stopped grumbling, too. "Hey, let's share."

Instead, he approached Dunbachel. Rather than drinking, she was gently grilling seasoned jerky on the stone and eating it.

"Mmm, so good." The distinctive seasoning kept the jerky tender. Dunbachel thought it was the best food she'd ever eaten while camping. Encrid ate with much the same opinion. Krang tried a piece and gave an emphatic nod. He looked ready to reward its maker once he became king. The storm had stirred old memories in Ragna. A storm had raged back then, too. The rain had blotted out everything ahead, its heavy drops pounding his body hard enough to leave bruises. There had been a day like that. Remembering that moment in the past, Ragna turned toward the place where he had been born and raised. He used the stars to judge his bearings and gazed north. "What are you doing?"

Encrid approached and asked. Something about Ragna seemed unusual. He answered readily.

"Looking north." Toward where his family and his lands had been. North, where his people lived.

Was this longing, lingering attachment, or perhaps hatred? Looking toward home like this, he almost felt he could sense their presence beyond the horizon. "That's south."

At Encrid's words, Ragna quietly turned his head. So much for old memories. Traveling through the wind and rain had left him hungry. Time to fill his stomach. "You seriously shouldn't even go take a piss on your own."

Rem added his opinion after watching this. Ragna acted as if he hadn't heard. The night deepened, and it was time for everyone to sleep.

"Jaxon, take first watch."

They roughly settled the watch order: Jaxon, the whip-bearing guard, Rem, Encrid, then Ragna. Even if the enemy tried something with spells, they should be fine. Esther's eyes were gleaming so...

Purring, the panther had already fallen asleep beside Encrid. He gathered her into his arms. She would wake on her own if trouble arose. Krang watched and spoke.

"A mage who turns into a panther." The whip-bearing guard still flinched at the sight of Esther. First her transformation had startled him, then her appearance. Yet his principles didn't seem to waver over it. 'Not bad.'

He was someone who stood beside Krang. Naturally, he was a decent man. Resting here seemed to bother him, too, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

Had he suddenly developed boundless trust in Encrid? Seeing one battle might have done that, but respect was the greater part of it. Encrid had proven his ability, earning his respect, and his lord respected Encrid, so he did likewise. He really wasn't a bad man. Amid those stray thoughts, Krang's question reached his ears.

"How is becoming a knight going?"

"It's fun."

"Fun?"

He had asked how it was going, and the answer was that it was fun. Encrid nodded. Their clothes hung drying on branches planted at an angle in the ground. Jaxon poked at the campfire with a long stick. The not-quite-dry branches crackled in the flames, throwing sparks that drifted into the air and vanished. Fading sparks, rising flames, the comfort of damp bodies drying out.

Krang and Encrid sat facing each other across the campfire. Beyond the comforting flames, the firelight made Krang's eyes look red. Encrid met them directly. Krang, too, looked into Encrid's eyes. Without looking away, he spoke. "Why are you helping me?"

Krang had been the first to call him a friend, had looked him in the eye and spoken of his dream. But nowhere in those words had he asked Encrid for help. It was a sincere question. When Krang spoke with intent, his words carried force. They almost seemed to compel an answer. Was this what the words of power used by dragonfolk felt like? Did he have dragonfolk blood somewhere in his ancestry?

Pressure that demanded an answer, oppression exerted merely through speech. 'Fascinating.'

Encrid felt something much like being subjected to intimidation. Not that it would trigger his Will of refusal. This wasn't an art founded on actual Will. Above all, Krang's force of presence didn't cow him. "Someone said it would be a waste for you to die here."

Thus, he could answer calmly.

"I won't die even without your help."

Krang replied without missing a breath. Where did that confidence come from? And yet Encrid felt no desire to deny it. Krang would have prepared a way to survive, even if it meant taking a roundabout route. Without that much foresight, he could never have survived this long. Before helping Krang, after deciding to help him, and on the night after he'd told Krais as much, Encrid had thought about it.

'Why help him?' Because he wanted to fight? Because staying beside Krang would bring assassins and all manner of attackers his way?

His fighting spirit was indeed part of what made him who he was. But it wasn't everything. Something more fundamental within him had made him readily step forward for this task.

It was because he wanted to become a knight. A knight was a protector. Then what should he protect? Those who stood behind him. Who, then, would he allow to stand behind him? Encrid did not serve Krang. He had sworn no such oath. But he knew very well that Krang wasn't someone unworthy of protecting here and now. "Whether you're worth protecting..."

Encrid didn't yield to that almost oppressive force of presence. He withstood it easily.

"I don't know yet."

He finished what he had begun to say. He helped because he didn't know. He lent a hand because he didn't know. Would protecting Krang once change much? He didn't know. Only time would tell.

That was his entire reason for helping. He didn't know Krang, so he would help to learn who he was. Across the campfire, Krang smiled again. Rather than the hearty laughter of before, it was a deep smile. Encrid remained impassive.

"A knight who chooses a king."

Neither was yet a king or a knight.

"Being chosen by such a man would indeed mark the beginning of my path as king." The guard had frowned at Encrid's words, but his expression soon returned to normal. His lord's response showed not the slightest displeasure. He was speaking sincerely. He had spoken of the beginning of his path as king.

If that beginning was the man before him, if that was truly so, the guard could only watch. He had already made his own choice. "And I also want to go out of my way to do things that fellow Count Molsen would hate."

Encrid admitted his petty desire for revenge as well. He hadn't forgotten how the count had played his dirty games instead of sending reinforcements. "That Count Molsen?"

"Yes. A man much like the genitalia of a feral dog."

Encrid had phrased an obscenity in elegant terms. A talent, in its own way. This time, Krang chuckled.

"The genitalia of a feral dog."

He thought the description suited the man remarkably well. Their nighttime conversation was no more than a light little farce. Rem, Ragna, Jaxon, and Dunbachel did say they had enjoyed watching the exchange, but that was all. The next day, Krang's escort set out again. This time, they encountered a horde of monsters. KRAAH! Starting with a pack of human-faced hounds, it was a monster gift assortment of every kind.