Chapter 7 - Three Threes

Encrid could not keep laughing forever, so he soon stopped. Rem seized his wrist, pulled a bandage from inside his clothes, and wound it tightly around his hand. "Stay behind me today. With your hand like that, you're practically begging to get killed. If that bastard of a Platoon Commander hears you did this sparring, he'll throw a goddamn fit." "It's fine." "What's fine about it? Go into battle with that hand and you'll die. Is suicide your ambition in life? If it is, I won't get in your way." He was not wrong. Going into battle with a hand like this was a fine way to get himself killed. But that was no great problem for Encrid. He only had to die once more, and his hundred and twenty-fifth morning would dawn. 'Not that I'm tired of it.'

He would be able to put an end to this repeating day. Encrid had not spent all this time merely honing his swordsmanship. Through a hundred and twenty-four repetitions, he had also worked out how to make it through "today." When an ordinary soldier returned alive from his first battle, people said he had picked up a coin dropped by the goddess of fortune. Without exceptional talent, luck played a large part in keeping a man alive. By Encrid's reckoning, he would need several such strokes of luck to avoid death. 'But I can't rely on luck.' Encrid did not need to. He knew what happened on the battlefield, especially around him.

That meant he could take precautions.

That meant he could prepare. On the hundred and twenty-fourth day, Encrid once again died with a sword through his throat. His ruined palm had kept him from even properly crossing blades with the enemy. Still, unwilling to waste even a single day, he watched the enemy soldier's stab closely. He steadied his breathing and held on to the very end. He did just that.

"That must hurt. Mercy."

Listening to the enemy soldier's voice, he endured the searing pain of the blade in his throat. Something caught on his tongue. Just before he died, he spat it out: a broken molar. He had clenched his teeth so hard against the pain that it had shattered. Yes. He was not tired of this. Making each repeated day count had even been enjoyable. But whatever reasons he gave himself... 'I still don't want to fucking die.' There was no pleasure in dying. Especially at the hands of a sick bastard who enjoyed other people's pain. If he could end this, he would. Encrid had resolved that the moment he realized he was trapped in a single day. And then... CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! The hundred and twenty-fifth morning dawned.

* * *

After getting up, the first thing Encrid did was pick up Rem's boot and shake it out. "What are you doing? That's mine." "I know. It reeks. Throw this at the enemy and the stink alone would kill fifty of them." "Giving me shit first thing in the morning? Have a nice dream or something?" A bug dropped out of Rem's boot, and Encrid crushed it underfoot. "I saw it crawl in this morning." "... Well, thanks." Rem gave a little laugh and put his boot on properly. Leaving him behind, Encrid pushed aside the tent flap and stepped outside. Dawn had just broken, blending the blue of daybreak with the yellow of sunlight. The soldier on the last watch bustled about, busily banging his pot. Newly awakened soldiers rubbed their eyes and grumbled, or silently went about their business. "Goddammit, stop banging that thing. My head's splitting." "Who told you to get hammered last night?" The voices came from the barracks behind him. "Shut your mouth, will you? I'll get disciplined if they find out I was drinking." "Oh, bullshit." It was the soldier on the last watch talking to a fellow soldier who had drunk himself silly the night before. Listening, Encrid glanced back at the drinker's face. He was a ten-man commander and Squad Leader in another unit. He also had a good mother. On the sixty-sixth day, Encrid had struck up a conversation and made a point of acting friendly with the man, simply to give himself something to remember that day by. "Aren't you on breakfast duty?" "Do it for me." While looking behind him, Encrid made the abrupt request of Rem, who had followed him out. "Why should I?" "You can do it for me once. I've covered for you more than five times." "You've been keeping count? That's petty." "Yes. Only yours." "Why only mine?" "Because you're annoying." In a hundred and twenty-five repetitions, he had not managed to put a single scratch on the bastard. Not that he resented Rem. If anything, all he felt was gratitude. In any case, Rem would do it. Of all the ways Encrid had begun this day over its many repetitions, leaving breakfast duty to Rem gave him the best odds of survival and let him start in the best possible condition. "Fine. Shit, I'll do it." Encrid moved about enough to warm himself, until the chilly morning air no longer made him shiver. Even as he twisted and stretched, he stayed in front of the barracks. His squad members came out one by one. First was Jaxon, one of the more industrious members. Their eyes met, and Jaxon gave him a look of greeting. Encrid returned a casual nod. Several more men filed out. Encrid caught hold of the last to emerge, whose eyes were still half closed. "Big-eyes." "Hmm?" Nicknamed Big-eyes, his real name was Krais Allman. He was a pretty-faced member of the squad. Squad 444 might be a collection of troublemakers, but its members were excellent fighters. He was the sole exception, with skills below average. More precisely, even Encrid could beat him black-and-blue. "Yaaawn. What do you want this early? Making a highly skilled professional like me get up at dawn is torture," Krais said, stretching his mouth wide. He had not wiped the sleep from his eyes or splashed a drop of water on his face, but he was still quite good-looking. The sort of looks that would catch the eye of men with a taste for other men. "Get me a few things." Krais tilted his head at Encrid's request. He was puzzled; this was not the sort of thing Encrid usually asked for. "Taken up smoking? Or drinking? Women are out. Even I can't bring one in at a time like this." Krais was the unit's black-market dealer. There was nothing he could not procure. "Do I look like I'd ask you to find me a woman?" "No. What do you need, then?" "Five throwing knives, some oiled leather and a large needle, deerskin gloves, and lastly, about ten white horse flowers and a handful of alum." When he mentioned the leather, Encrid roughly indicated its size with his hands. Enough to wrap around a grown man's torso. "... I can't begin to imagine what you're going to do with any of that." "So you can't get it?" Krais looked at Encrid for a moment, then nodded. "There's nothing I can't get. But even you don't get freebies just because you're the Squad Leader. You know that, right?" "How much?" "I'll need seventeen silver coins." What a swindler. Five throwing knives would cost a silver coin or two at a smithy. Of course, when iron prices soared, they sometimes cost more than three, but that was the usual price. Besides, the ones Krais brought would not even be made entirely of steel. Still, he would at least find reasonably serviceable blades. Good leather might fetch whatever price the seller asked, but Krais would hardly bring leather destined for some famous workshop. The only real expenses here were the needle and deerskin gloves. Those would certainly cost at least three silver coins. White horse flowers could be had for next to nothing in a village. Alum would not cost much either, if there was a leather workshop nearby. Encrid had a good eye for such things himself, but he did not argue. His first reason was that they were in an army camp, where these things would be difficult to obtain through anyone but Krais. His second was the oddly specific price of seventeen coins rather than a round number. That was probably what Krais considered a fair price. There was another reason, too. "I can have them right after breakfast, can't I?" "You know you're telling me to skip breakfast, right?" "You never ate it regularly anyway." "Hmph. True enough. But, well, as far as I know, you're not exactly swimming in these, are you, Squad Leader?" Krais curled his thumb and forefinger into a circle. "I don't have any right now." Sometimes he saved his pay, but recently he had spent it all on a new sword. He was indeed penniless. He would be paid after the battle, but asking for that money now would get him treated as a deserter. "Tsk. That puts me in a difficult position." Encrid smiled at Krais's words, with the ease of someone who had something solid to fall back on. "Lend me five copper coins." Krais did not usually trust people easily. But Encrid was a slightly different matter. 'He is the Squad Leader.' The Encrid he knew was not a man to do anything foolish. Above all, hadn't the man saved his life? Krais took out five copper coins and handed them over. Rolling the jingling coins in his hand, Encrid headed straight to the neighboring barracks. Inside, he found men who had started a game bright and early. The soldier on the last watch and three or four men who preferred gambling to sleeping in had gathered for a dice game. Startled eyes turned toward Encrid, then grew puzzled as they recognized his face. "Well, well. Isn't it His Lordship, the Squad Leader of 444?" "Hard at work so early in the morning, I see." Krais marveled at the sight. He hated gambling. He hated the prospect of being fleeced by a cheat, but even without cheating, he hated leaving it to chance whether his hard-earned money grew or vanished. Winning was all well and good, but once a man got a taste for it, he would be hooked. And if he lost, wouldn't his purse simply vanish for nothing? To Krais, gambling was a pastime for fools. And Encrid had just joined them. "Mind if I join in?" "Here?" It was the neighboring barracks' last-watch soldier. His eyes darted toward his fellow gamblers, then he nodded. "Sure." A sucker was welcome anywhere. As Encrid stepped in to squat down, Krais caught his collar. "You're going to throw away my five coppers here?" Those big, bright eyes stared at Encrid, despite the sleep still crusted in their corners. 'He must have broken his share of women's hearts.'

With that thought, Encrid took Krais by the wrist and pushed his hand away. "I borrowed it. That makes it my money now." With that, Encrid finally took his place. The assembled gamblers shuffled over to make room. "You know how to play dice?" asked the soldier rattling pig-bone dice in a wooden cup. "Matching numbers pay double. Bet on low or high, and you win the amount you wagered. Right?" He had only watched in passing, over their shoulders, but he had watched a hundred and twenty-five times. He could hardly fail to know. There were three dice in all, with a total of eighteen. Thus, one simply called whether the number would be higher or lower than nine. The man seated in the middle was the dealer. He rolled the dice, and the rest placed their bets. "Let's start the first round, then." This was a quick game before they prepared breakfast. The stakes were small: a minimum of five copper coins and a maximum of two silver. Encrid wagered five coppers. "Low."

"High."

"Low."

"Low."

"High."

"High."

"Low." In less than ten minutes, Encrid had two silver coins in hand. The appeal of dice was its speed. The fun lay in racing through round after round in a short span of time. And that was exactly what they did. At first, Encrid had memorized the numbers for fun. Would the dice really show the same numbers every day? Even though today repeated, the events around him sometimes changed in subtle ways. That was how he knew.

The dice always came up the same. "Looks like the goddess of fortune didn't just drop you a coin. She must have planted a kiss on you." The soldier acting as dealer spoke as Encrid's silver coins passed ten. "Are you cheating?" The dealer said what would ordinarily have come from the soldier right beside him. "Cheating? I'm just lucky today. Feels like the goddess is whispering in my ear." Encrid shrugged off their suspicious looks. They could not argue. The dealer was the one rolling the dice, and even if the two were in on it together, this would have been excessive. Besides, partway through, the others had quietly started betting with Encrid and profiting themselves. "Cheating? You're the one rolling the fucking dice." "Thought he might be casting some goddamn spell." "Yeah, right." "Other days, you kept playing even when you were raking it in, didn't you? No stopping just because you're having bad luck." A soldier who had made some money thanks to Encrid snickered. The dealer agreed and played a few more rounds before speaking. "Last round. We're out of time." Breakfast time had crept up on them. Encrid rolled ten silver coins in his hand. This was what had become of his starting stake of five coppers. All of it had come from the soldier serving as dealer. "That was fun. Since it's the last round, will you take ten coins? I'd like to bet the lot and get going." The usual maximum bet was five silver coins. The dealer furrowed his brow. Given Encrid's success rate today, he had no reason to accept. "Then I'll put it all on matching numbers and call it a day." Encrid continued before the man could answer. What were the odds of all three dice showing the same number? Even the soldier rolling them had seen it only a few times in his life. Never once in an actual game, either. Only when he was fooling around by himself. So Encrid had been playing for fun, just as he said, and meant to give back all the silver he had won before leaving. At least, that was how it sounded to the dealer. Krais poked Encrid in the back and mouthed, "Are you crazy?" No, not at all. Encrid was not crazy. "Ten silver on matching numbers." "... Fine." RATTLE! The soldier shook the dice and slammed the cup noisily onto the floor. He was taking no chances on something going wrong because he had rolled too gently. "Let's see." With an expectant smile, the dealer lifted the dice cup. "... Holy fuck." "The goddess of fortune's in him. She's in him, all right." "Fuck me, how is that even possible?" Everyone gathered there was stunned.

Everyone except Encrid. Three threes.

The dice matched.