Chapter 50 - “No Way” Gets People Killed (1)

After the battle, Encrid fulfilled his duties as a member of Border Guard's standing army. He stood guard and patrolled the city. Every other moment of his day went to the sword. Anyone seeing him for the first time might have found his routine mind-numbingly repetitive, but to everyone around him, these were peaceful, unremarkable days. In truth, even if someone had taken notice, he would not have cared. He withdrew into himself, turning the same questions over and over. 'How can I win?' Or how could he wield his sword better? This was a time to take stock of what he had and reflect on it. Seeing a knight's skill had sent his desire to surpass it boiling wildly within him. But he was not impatient. Slowly, one step at a time. No matter how slowly, he would move forward. That was Encrid's specialty. 'The heart of the beast, the sense for the blade, Concentrate on a Single Point.' To move forward, he brought everything Rem, Jaxon, and Ragna had taught him into his sparring. At first he mostly trained with Rem, then Ragna joined in. After that, Jaxon occasionally stepped in too. “Let me give your mind some fresh air before even your brain turns to muscle.”

“Huh? Was that aimed at me?” One needless remark sent sparks flying between Rem and Jaxon, but to Encrid, this was a peaceful everyday occurrence. Sparring with Rem was rough. It demanded split-second improvisation and judgment. Encrid had to focus, with boldness foremost. His body had to move before he could think. Ragna was a little different. Their fights focused on swordsmanship itself. Even if Encrid began on the offensive, a moment's carelessness would put him on the defensive. He had to watch the overall flow of the fight throughout the match. Jaxon was different from both of them. He mixed in plenty of deception, misleading Encrid with sounds, movements of his feet and hands, even a slight withdrawal of his shoulder. Every motion demanded attention. It became a fight where he had to think reflexively. “Clear away stray thoughts. Focus on the present,” Jaxon told him. Before he knew it, the knight had faded from Encrid's thoughts. Every day, he repeated what he could do. On an afternoon fifteen days after their return to Border Guard, rewards were handed out for distinguished service. “These are the men who contributed to our victory over treacherous Aspen!” The Battalion Commander distributed the reward money. Encrid received the largest sum. “This reward recognizes your achievement in alerting us to the spell and breaking it!” The adjutant proclaimed Encrid's deeds in a loud voice. 'They're telling everyone all of it?' He had expected command to snatch the credit for themselves, but they acknowledged his contribution without fuss. Among the Company Commanders lined up beside the Battalion Commander, the emerald-eyed Fairy stood out unmistakably. Had his Company Commander done something? He had no way of knowing. Nor did he think she would answer if he asked. “Victory is ours!” The Battalion Commander proclaimed their victory once more, but no one was swept into a frenzy as they had been on their last night on the battlefield. The soldiers at the front applauded, led by the Platoon Commander. When Encrid returned to his place, several soldiers farther back glanced at him and started sniping. “The spell? He destroyed that flag all by himself?”

“One of his squad members must've done it.”

“No way he did it alone.”

“So the fog was a spell, and he got rid of it? No way. That Squad Leader?” Anyone who knew what Encrid was usually like might say that. So Encrid thought. Rem disagreed. “Seems the boys are missing the taste of my axe lately.” He said it without expression, and the implication was chilling. This was a man who already made a hobby of smacking nearby soldiers over the head. “Why do we even do this? I could be getting another nap instead.” Ragna glanced behind him and grumbled. Apparently, he found the Battalion Commander's address excruciatingly dull. As his Squad Leader, Encrid soothed him. The Battalion Commander was in the middle of a lengthy account of his own exploits. His role in the battle, how sending out scouts had actually been his idea, how he had recognized the spell the instant he saw the flags. It was a feast of bullshit. Perhaps out of boredom, more and more voices behind Encrid began tearing into him. “That troublemaker Squad Leader. Think he sneaks into the Battalion Commander's quarters too?”

“Hey, he's not some fucking man-whore. What are you talking about?” The man who had called him a fucking man-whore laughed even louder at his own words. He heard this sort of thing all the time too. The Squad Leader who survived by currying favor with his squad. He had never cared about those remarks even when his skills were abysmal. Now he had gone beyond letting them roll off him; he barely registered them at all. Once again, Encrid ignored them. His squad member, however, did not. “Having fun?” It was Jaxon. At some point, the reddish-brown-haired squad member had moved among the loudmouths and draped an arm over a soldier's shoulders on either side. Encrid had not even noticed him move. He saw the two soldiers flinch. Jaxon lowered his head between them and whispered something. With his head down, Encrid could not even read his lips, but when he finished, both soldiers shut their mouths. Their faces had gone pale as well. Jaxon strolled back to his original place. “What'd you say?” Rem asked, curious. Ragna pricked up his ears, while Big-eyes and the devout squad member subtly leaned toward Jaxon. Encrid did not care what those men said about him, but he too wanted to know what Jaxon had said. “Just advice. Advice essential to getting through life.”

“That's a good one.” Rem scoffed at him. Encrid had missed it. No, both he and Big-eyes had missed it, but the other three had seen. Each of the hands Jaxon had draped over the soldiers' shoulders held a short knife. With the points pressing precisely into their necks, who would not feel their blood run cold? “Do you need some advice too?” Jaxon asked Rem casually. Rem smiled at that, a vein standing out on his forehead. “Quiet. The Battalion Commander is speaking.” Encrid stepped in at just the right moment to stop them. Despite Jaxon's show of force, the resentment toward Encrid remained. The criticism reeked of jealousy and envy. He had always been a nobody. Someone left behind, floundering at the bottom. A Squad Leader who barely survived thanks to his squad members. That had been Encrid's place. Being a lowest-grade soldier had played a part too. Yet now they were saying that soldier had broken a spell. The Battalion Commander had personally commended his achievement, and even the kingdom had sent reward money. More people envied him with a serpent's heart than felt genuinely happy for him. Since ancient times, Naurilia had depicted snakes as wicked, jealous, ugly creatures that could not bear to see others prosper. That was why people called behavior like this “showing a serpent's heart.” The soldiers were doing exactly that. They resented an achievement made by someone who ought to be beneath them. Many could not readily acknowledge him even though he had saved them by breaking the spell. “No way. That Squad Leader?” Even when it was not spoken out of resentment, that single remark summed up the entire situation. No way that Squad Leader could have done anything. Scorn, envy, and jealousy mingled in those words. “Hmm. They really do have a lot to say.” Even Big-eyes, who would normally have let it slide, felt compelled to comment. The Battalion Commander's address ended. The leather pouch Encrid had received was bulging. Unless it contained copper coins, it was a substantial sum. He decided to buy a sword with it. “Dismissed! Time to change shifts.” The battalion adjutant announced the end of the tedium. “Want a round right now? Are you on duty?” As everyone began dispersing, Encrid asked Rem. Rem found this man truly, utterly astonishing. “Ever thought of playing with those loudmouths instead of me?”

“Them? Why bother? Would it help?” His Squad Leader had eyes only for the sword, as always. The sight warmed Rem's heart. How could anyone be so consistent? Dealing with those insolent bastards could wait. “Let's do it. Let's spar.” Rem found himself remembering the first time he had seen Encrid in Border Guard. Back then, he had been worse than hopeless: an idiot who relied on cheap tricks. And now? The first time they had sparred back in the city after the battle flashed through his mind. 'Where did he get fundamentals like these?' Heavy Sword Technique, and swordsmanship that looked like the product of solid instruction from a renowned house. It was enough to make him wonder whether this was the same man. [“You've improved a lot.”] With that, Rem had immediately stepped things up. He had to. The playful sparring of before was no longer enough. Rem took it in stride, but Ragna was quite surprised after sparring with Encrid. 'Even if I'd taught him myself, I couldn't have done better.' That was how much his Squad Leader had improved. His fundamentals were better, and though Ragna felt he had only given him a brief lesson in Concentrate on a Single Point, he handled that well too. Not that there was anything unnatural about it. Concentrate on a Single Point involved driving oneself into a kind of trance. With enough talent, someone could achieve it in a single day. He had done so himself. It was remarkable that his Squad Leader had managed it, but... 'It's not impossible.' Assuming others could do something simply because he could was a genius's way of thinking. That was how Ragna made sense of Encrid's current state. Jaxon found enjoyment in facing his suddenly improved Squad Leader. 'I'm enjoying this?' What was a sword? What was a spear? What were weapons, daggers included? Nothing more than tools for killing someone. All his life, he had treated weapons as mere tools. Yet strangely, he felt refreshed after sparring with his Squad Leader. Enough to forget, for a moment, the goal he had set himself. He found it utterly curious. It made him want to look after his Squad Leader all the more. Standing to one side, the devout squad member, Audin Phumrey, stared at his Squad Leader. He had an exceptional eye. 'His skills improved dramatically in a single day.' Had his Squad Leader possessed such physical talent? If so, he should have shown further improvement afterward. Yet now he had stagnated again. Anything one learned and mastered could come with plateaus. Audin knew that, but something always felt off when he looked at his Squad Leader. 'Something about this is strange.' Still, it was probably nothing to worry about. Or he could put his mind at ease by thinking of it as a divine blessing. Encrid pushed himself so hard in training that a day felt too short for him. If someone like that did not receive a blessing, who should? Audin embraced the questions his Squad Leader had prompted. God and humanity, blessings and curses. He sank deep into thought, contemplating everything that came to mind.

* * *

“This seems decent.” Encrid bought a sword. “It's better than decent. That blade has Valeri steel in it!” The blacksmith spoke with a vein bulging on his forehead. “Does it?” Encrid lifted the sword and examined its blade. It had none of the bluish streaks distinctive to Valeri steel. Seeing him inspect it like an expert, the blacksmith added, “I said it had some mixed in. I didn't say it was Valeri steel.”

“Right.” Valeri steel was a high-quality metal renowned across the continent. The steel produced in the Valeri region was highly resilient and did not break easily. Swords made from it rarely chipped. Once sharpened, they became exceptionally sturdy weapons. What ally could be more dependable on the battlefield than a sturdy sword? That was why everyone wanted a weapon made from Valeri steel. The alternative was Imperial steel, but since the Empire did not permit its export, Valeri steel was the best one could obtain. “I'll take this one.” When he spent half his reward on a single sword, Big-eyes, who had come along, shook his head. “Why spend so much Krona on a sword? You could just use one lying around the battlefield, or requisition one.”

“Wouldn't it be a bitter way to go, getting stabbed to death because I used some piece of crap?”

“... Well, I can't argue with that. So are you going to apply for a grade advancement right now?”

“Yes.” He had recently polished the techniques he had ingrained through countless sparring matches once again. Now he wanted to test his skill. 'How far can I go?' He was currently lowest grade. He judged himself to be at least intermediate-grade. Then what about high grade? Highest grade? Special-grade? Naurilia had introduced its soldier grading system to boost morale. To advance, a soldier simply had to defeat someone of a higher grade. Challenges were accepted at any time, and the army had people specifically tasked with arranging these matches. It was a simple but efficient system. “All right, let's go.” Big-eyes was one of the people who arranged those matches. Krais, or Big-eyes, did anything that made money. Advancement matches were profitable because they involved gambling. The higher-ups knew Krona changed hands, but let it pass. Some commanders even wagered on the matches themselves. “I've bet on you to win, Squad Leader.” Big-eyes was not saying that out of trust in his own judgment. Before getting started, he had pestered Rem relentlessly until he got an answer. [“Unless there's a good reason not to, bet on the Squad Leader.”] That was all, but Rem was not one for empty words, so Big-eyes trusted him. 'Just you try losing me money.' He would not let that slide. Of course, he would not attack Rem. Krais knew full well there would be nothing left of him if he did. “You want an advancement match?” When Encrid made his request, the Platoon Commander nodded. “True enough. No need to stay at lowest grade.” With the Platoon Commander's permission and Big-eyes making the arrangements, preparations began in the central parade ground. A few idle soldiers gathered. Ordinarily, it would not have drawn spectators, but this was the famous troublemaker Squad Leader. The man who had broken the spell's fog. The Squad Leader rumored to survive by licking his squad members' assholes! So the crowd grew. One by one, more eyes turned their way. With over twenty spectators gathered, Encrid faced his opponent, a curly-haired soldier who had once been a mercenary. “I'm intermediate-grade. Heard you applied to go straight to intermediate-grade?”

“I did.”

“Cocky bastard, aren't you?” Their brief exchange ended, and they crossed swords. Encrid blocked his opponent's descending blade. CLANG! Steel rang against steel. Encrid waited for his opponent to attack again. That was how it had always gone. Rem, Ragna, Jaxon. Every time they sparred, they ruthlessly exploited his openings. And in real combat? The pervert who loved to stab. Aspen's Mitch Hurrier. They had all been formidable opponents, men who would never let an opening pass. His current opponent was not. CLANG! CLANG! They exchanged a few more blows. Encrid furrowed his brow. 'Is he playing around?' His opponent was so much worse than he had expected that he could hardly tell whether the man was serious. “Hah!” The soldier who had called himself intermediate-grade brought his sword down. He left so many openings that Encrid was spoiled for choice. Encrid merely feinted a block, then dodged and hooked his instep around the man's shin to trip him. His foot caught, swept, and sent the man flying. The soldier's right foot rose sideways, taking him over with it. He crashed to the ground. “Aaargh!” He must have landed wrong on his hand, because he rolled on the ground screaming and clutching his wrist. This was unexpected. Questions flooded Encrid's eyes. 'Why is he so weak?' That was what Encrid wanted to know.