Chapter 53 - The Turtle and the Frontier Slaughterers (2)

"How about transferring companies?"

He had barely taken five steps outside the barracks. It was unusual for someone to approach a soldier directly about transferring within the unit. 'Is this because I became a high-grade soldier?'

Perhaps. There weren't many high-grade or highest-grade soldiers in the unit. But Encrid thought there might be another reason, too.

Spellbreaker.

It was the name on everyone's lips these days. He was attracting attention and interest. That was a first. But it was no reason to get excited and run wild like a fifteen-year-old. He was pleased, but precisely because he was pleased, there were things he ought to let pass. Encrid had experience. He hadn't made it to thirty earning his living by the sword without getting himself killed for nothing. "To First Company, sir?"

"What, did you think I came to put you in that idiot Palto's company, or Rayon's?"

Palto and Rayon were the commanders of Second and Third Company.

"Come to my unit." Encrid's advancement matches had left a powerful impression on everyone. Graham, First Company's commander and the man in charge of the heavy infantry, had taken a particular liking to him. He was already well known within the army for valuing talented soldiers, and his name had been mentioned as the next battalion commander. An offer from such a man carried weight. First Company, famous for its heavy infantry, represented a core combat arm of the Cyprus Division and a route into the army's elite. But Encrid shook his head.

"I'm sorry, sir."

It was a polite refusal that required no deliberation. "You're refusing? Why? If you're worried about falling out with your company commander, I'll protect you."

"That isn't it, sir."

Encrid's answer was remarkably matter-of-fact. He showed not the slightest sign of hesitation. Graham's brow furrowed, then smoothed. "You don't seem even remotely tempted."

"Do I not?"

Graham stared at him. Wondering whether he ought to say something more, Encrid met his gaze.

"No, you don't." This wasn't something to settle through pressure or force. That was Graham's view.

"Then I'll be going, sir."

Encrid pressed his left hand to the left side of his waist and bowed his head in a military salute. Graham needed only to nod to acknowledge it, but instead he mirrored Encrid's gesture. He pressed his own left hand to his waist and saluted, then spoke.

"Thanks to you." Thanks to him?

When Encrid stared blankly, Graham finished.

"I'm alive. I ought to thank you for that." Spellbreaker.

That fog had been truly terrifying. The more capable a commander was, the more keenly they had felt its power. The Fairy company commander had cursed the battalion commander endlessly during the battle, and Graham had cursed him every bit as much. ["You fucking moron! You shit-for-brains bastard!"]

He had shouted those very words in the middle of the battlefield. In quiet times, a man could get away with looking out for his own position. But a crisis inevitably exposed a commander's true ability. The battalion commander was a fucking idiot. At least, that was what Graham thought. And his most idiotic act of all had been subtly claiming the credit for this battle. In the end, everyone in the unit who knew anything knew that the battalion commander hadn't been the last battle's greatest contributor. The two men lowered their awkward salutes. Graham offered his hand first, and Encrid took it and shook. Their farewell held a mixture of gratitude, lingering hopes, regret, and other feelings. "Go on, then. Just don't forget how disappointed I am."

"Shall I send Rem in my place, then?"

Encrid was joking.

"Not that bastard!"

Graham glared in mock anger. They parted with smiles. 'He seems like a decent man.'

It was the first time Encrid had spoken at such length with the heavy infantry company commander. He had taken a liking to the man. Though the barracks stood right behind him, he felt like walking a little farther. He looked around the city as he walked, something he hadn't done in some time. Before he knew it, he had reached the edge of the market in the city center. Even a military city naturally had merchants and farmers coming and going, though there were actually far more itinerant merchants than people working the land. Border Guard was known as a frontier military city. Its garrison alone numbered well over a thousand. If soldiers made up a tenth of the population, it ought to have had more than ten thousand civilian residents. But ten thousand was out of the question; there weren't even five thousand. Yet the city functioned perfectly well. This was the king's own domain, after all. The kingdom's support kept the military city of Border Guard going. Still, it couldn't rely on the kingdom for everything, which was why people farmed and merchants came and went. Encrid had heard that its efforts to attract merchant companies had been quite successful. He had even heard that several merchant companies had recently come to the city on the king's orders. Perhaps that explained why the market was busier than ever. Big-eyes had gone on and on about how the innkeeper's grin reached all the way to the ceiling. 'No wonder he's happy.'

It really was crowded. The more merchant companies a city had, the happier its innkeepers were bound to be. Besides, lodging was one of Border Guard's main industries. 'A place for the major merchant companies to do business.'

One advantage of having an exceptionally large number of career soldiers in a city was reliable security. There were more than enough troops for patrols and guard duty. As a result, merchant companies often chose it for their major transactions. A city with few permanent residents, but many people passing through. A military city that also had the character of a trading hub. That was probably Border Guard's true face. At the market's edge, Encrid glanced at the mouth of an alley where haphazardly built structures had formed a complicated maze, then turned away. He'd had the odd feeling someone was watching him, but a closer look revealed nothing. He turned back and returned to the barracks. After he left, a beggar crawled out from deep within the alley, a filthy blanket pulled over their head. The beggar sank to the ground and began asking for alms. Beneath the blanket, their eyes were piercing—so much so that anyone who saw them would never have taken their owner for a mere beggar.

* * *

Before Encrid even entered their quarters, Rem's voice assaulted his ears.

"Our squad leader's getting ready to abandon us. You'd all better be prepared."

That crazy bastard. "Is that true?"

Big-eyes came scurrying over the moment Encrid stepped inside.

"No."

He denied it outright and was about to explain, but everyone looked menacing. Ragna spoke with his eyes half-open.

"If you're going, I'm coming with you." His tone was perfectly nonchalant. That might have been one thing if he actually obeyed his superiors, but Ragna was lazy by nature. He wasn't a man who readily took orders from anyone. Would any unit welcome him? "Well. Transfers aren't exactly uncommon."

Jaxon agreed, glancing over his belongings. He looked ready to pack up and follow if things didn't go his way. He was somewhat better, but...

'He's not much different, either.'

He wasn't in the troublemaker unit for nothing. He reported for duty on time, but he too regularly skipped training. He often vanished without warning, leaving Encrid to ask where he'd gone. True, he treated people affably, but...

'Only up to a point. He picks and chooses.'

And he made his preferences blatantly obvious. However one looked at him, he wasn't the sort to fit comfortably into a unit. Naturally, few commanders would welcome Jaxon. "You crazy bastards. Where do you think you're following him? They might take the squad leader, but you think they'd take you? You're poison to his future. So stay away. I'll be the only one going with you, Squad Leader. Trust me. I'll beat those bastards back before I go."

Rem planted himself in front of Encrid and puffed out his chest as he declared it. 'No, you're the biggest problem of all.'

Looking at Rem's broad back, Encrid let out a disbelieving laugh. Whoever else the heavy infantry company commander might accept, he would never take Rem. Not after he'd beaten up a superior in First Battalion. Because of his assaults on superior officers, many in the unit went beyond disliking him to outright hatred. They probably wouldn't take Ragna or Jaxon either, but if Encrid had to rank them, Rem was by far the worst poison. "There's definitely something wrong with your head. I've met plenty like you. Every last one died before he made it past thirty."

Ragna spoke while lying on his side. The way he was vigorously scratching his head made it look as though he hadn't washed his hair in days. "Then he must be about due."

Jaxon picked up the remark. Why those two worked in such perfect harmony at times like this was a mystery. But was Rem thirty? Encrid edged sideways to look at him and saw the western tribesman's lips curl into a crooked smile. His face was livid. "Squad Leader, you're saying I can kill these two and we can go on our own, right?"

Go where? And why kill anyone in the first place?

"No."

Best to stop this before it became a major fight.

"I'm not going anywhere." As he tried to settle things with that brief explanation, Big-eyes nodded and said, "You're not?" The others weren't so easily calmed. Encrid was about to try talking them down, then physically put himself between them if that failed, when someone knocked twice on the door. Their religious squad member was the only one absent, but he wouldn't knock on the door of his own quarters. That meant they had a visitor. At a glance from Encrid, Big-eyes opened the door.

"Who is it?" At Krais's question, Encrid turned around too. Beyond the flimsy wooden door stood a member of the Border Guard: Torres, wearing his eagle epaulet.

"We meet again."

He raised a hand in greeting, and Encrid saluted with his left hand pressed to his waist. "Have a moment to talk?"

"With me?"

"Who else?"

Encrid pointed at himself and blinked a few times, then nodded. He turned to tell Rem and the others to keep calm, only to start in surprise. Rem, Ragna, and Jaxon had already risen and were standing behind him. They had moved so swiftly and silently that he hadn't sensed a thing. "It's that fellow who doesn't know how to keep his hands to himself," Rem said.

Ragna and Jaxon simply stared in silence. Torres raised both hands.

"I didn't come to fight." The three men and Torres exchanged looks. The air inside the quarters seemed to thicken. Torres broke the silence.

"They call you the troublemaker squad. You really do jump into things without thinking."

He made his displeasure plain. The slightest provocation from anyone looked likely to bring blades out. At that moment, Encrid stepped between them. Blocking his three squad members' view with his back, he said,

"Let's step outside."

If trouble broke out for no reason, cleaning up the mess would only be a headache. As he left the quarters, he heard Rem snort behind him. Once they were walking outside, Torres frowned.

"What's wrong with them? Are they all sexually frustrated? Tell them to go to the red-light district if they're that worked up, instead of looking to spill blood." Torres had seen what Encrid hadn't. The moment the door opened, that superior-beating thug Rem had moved first. With a single casual step laden with killing intent, he'd taken his place behind Encrid. Next had come the man reclining on the bed. Just as he seemed to be sitting up, he had silently strode forward to stand behind Encrid as well. In that instant, Torres had the illusion of an impenetrable shield appearing before Encrid. The last man's movement had escaped even his eyes. He had reddish-brown hair, and suddenly he too was standing there, staring at Torres. Killing intent stabbed, tore, and hacked through Torres's entire body. No wonder he was on edge. It hurt his pride, but one wrong twitch of a fingertip in that moment might have left him dead. 'Against just three ordinary soldiers?'

The troublemaker squad's skill was well known. Still, he hadn't realized they were this good. If Encrid hadn't stepped in, might things have become embarrassing? When Torres had faced Encrid before, he'd used only half his ability. That had been enough. Could he have done the same against any one of those three? Apart from the knight orders, the units under the kingdom's direct command were considered the most talented and best trained in the army. The Border Guard in particular had amply demonstrated its might. His wounded pride was understandable. Still, duty was duty, and he had something to say. Torres took a few steadying breaths and composed himself. "I'll get straight to the point."

He had been given a mission, and he carried it out.

"Join the Border Guard." An offer from the Border Guard, a force under direct command, was a step above the Turtle heavy infantry. This was a force directly under the kingdom itself, after all. It took orders from the royal army, not the Cyprus Division. It was undeniably an attractive offer. "What do you say?"

Torres brimmed with confidence. His pride in belonging to the Border Guard showed as well. Encrid regarded him quietly, then spoke.

"What does the Border Guard aspire to?" What could he do as a member of the Guard? Where would he be heading as a soldier? That was what Encrid was asking.