Chapter 74 - Because He Trained Every Moment (3)

The second floor was not all that high. Even so, falling with the weight of a grown man—and a reasonably full set of equipment—was certainly suicidal. Encrid drove the crown of his head into his opponent's belly and pushed, steadying himself as they fell. Caught by the sudden tackle, his opponent had been helpless. THUD!

They hit the ground in a heap, Encrid on top and the assassin underneath. “Gah!”

The fallen assassin coughed up blood. Encrid shoved him aside and got up, letting out a breath as he checked himself over. 'No injuries.'

No damage to his joints or ligaments either. That was good enough. Putting distance between the assassin and his charge—that was a bodyguard's first priority. Jaxon was blocking the way to the second floor, and the Fairy Company Commander would handle the remaining minor problems. As he checked himself, he realized his back was not actually wounded either. Taking the blade on his body had been a calculated decision, to an extent. 'The armor.'

The armor he had acquired while looting the Gilfin Guild. Rem had been the one to recognize its true value. [“An ordinary sword swing probably wouldn't cut through it. Well, it's rare demonic beast hide, so put it to good use. Even the stuff used to tan this hide costs a fortune. What kind of idiot has this sitting around and gets himself killed without wearing it?”] The chest had originally been cursed. The dead guild leader had been unable to break that curse, so all he could do was keep it. For some reason, that curse had not affected Encrid, leading to the splendid result of his taking a blade on his body without shedding a single drop of blood. But while it could largely stop sharp steel, it could do nothing about the impact. That was why he was grateful to Audin. The Isolation Technique built his body, and wrestling taught him how to use the body he had built. With the skills he had learned and practiced, Encrid had protected himself. It was possible because he had trained and trained, every moment. Everything from dodging the blades to subduing his opponent. Had he wasted even one of those days, would he have this today? No. He could say that with certainty. “You're fucking insane.”

Blood from the man's mouth had soaked his mask. Finding it stifling, he tore it off. Encrid did not recognize the face. Naturally. Border Guard alone had more than five thousand inhabitants. How could he know every face? Still, there was something faintly familiar about him—that odd feeling of having passed him somewhere. “Cough.”

The man coughed again, bringing up blood. It soaked his beard and dripped onto the ground. Even then, he glared at Encrid, his eyes full of murderous intent. The determination to kill him radiated from him. SHING.

Encrid drew his longsword. His opponent held a gladius in one hand and drew a shortsword with the other. 'Dual weapons.'

His balance was steady on both sides. The blood he was coughing up made internal injuries a certainty, but his eyes were still alert. This man had seen battle. That was what Encrid's instincts told him. His age showed on his face. He was well past thirty, at least. A man who had survived that long would have a trick or two up his sleeve. 'He looks like an Unorthodox Sword user.'

The attacks would take strange forms rather than follow conventional swordsmanship. It was a prediction based on what he could see. “Hrrrk, ptuh.”

Perhaps blood had filled his nose. With a noise like a pig's grunt, the man snorted back bloody phlegm and spat it out before asking Encrid a question. “Who are you with?” “What's it to you?” “If you're standing army, I served before you.” Served before him? His expression showed his puzzlement, but his eyes kept scanning his opponent from head to toe. There were fewer openings than he had expected. The man's stance was clean. “I made it all the way to Platoon Commander.”

Encrid believed him. It changed nothing, after all. How many men had left the army? Some went out crippled. Some went out only as names on a list of the dead. Others left with all their limbs intact, but only after causing trouble. There was no end to them. Some left honorably, too. Those who had chosen military service over prison, for example, could leave once their compulsory term was over. “With the Slaughterers?”

His opponent asked again. Encrid gave a slight shake of his head. He was answering for one reason alone: to find an opening. But nothing changed. The man did not readily leave himself exposed. He might be pretty good. With that thought, Encrid quietly lowered his sword point. As its position shifted subtly, his opponent adjusted both his blades in turn. No easy opponent. Instinct and reason agreed. “Whew. That's better. My stomach was churning so much I got dizzy. Now I'll kill you, kill that bitch upstairs, and be on my way.”

He said it as though it were as easy as picking a copper coin up off the ground. This time, Encrid did not answer. There was no time. The man charged as he spoke. Fast. The gladius and shortsword danced through the air, his left and right hands moving to different rhythms. 'Valen-style Duet.'

He knew the technique, though the limits of his talent had kept him from attempting it. Both blades, moving out of time with one another, sought a lethal wound. His opponent's footwork and bladework were equally formidable. The instant he saw the charge, Encrid took a two-handed grip, lowered the point, and let his sword hang behind his left hip. His charging opponent's eyes gleamed. Encrid did not panic. The heart of the beast gave him courage. He could not predict his opponent's movements; the Valen-style Duet was beyond his own physical abilities. But that did not mean he could not counter it. TAP.

He set his left foot forward, moving to his own rhythm, regardless of his opponent's. Two blades swept toward him in arcs. Before they reached him, Encrid moved. [“Your strength, at least, is outstanding.”]

Audin criticized his sluggishness in everything else, but he acknowledged that strength. Encrid knew how to use his strength and the Heavy Sword Technique to break through his opponent's Unorthodox Sword. WHOOSH.

The longsword cleaved the air. Its blade, forged with Valeri steel, cut horizontally through the space before him. Of course, empty space was not all it cut. THUD, CRUNCH! A mid-level horizontal cut. Strength against finesse. He had sparred dozens of times. His skills, which had improved sharply since he began repeating today, had vastly broadened what he could gain from those matches. Through the heart of the beast, his sense for the blade, and Concentrate on a Single Point, he perceived things he had once missed, unable to see or feel them. He reproduced what he perceived with his body, practicing it. When his body could not keep up, he rebuilt it with the Isolation Technique. It was the same as dodging a dagger with a mere tilt of his head. The only difference was that this time he had committed himself to a sword swing. Using that newly built body, he pivoted on his left foot, twisting his muscles to unleash the blow. It all happened in an instant. The blade swept through his opponent's midsection, cutting halfway through his body. His opponent had tried to block and deflect with one blade while closing in, but strength crushed finesse. It was an outright victory for muscle. Encrid looked at the man, his body half severed and his spilled entrails steaming. “Farewell, old soldier.” Even half cut apart, the man clung stubbornly to life. His eyes were full of regrets. His lips trembled as he murmured something, and Encrid read their movements. “Glory to the motherland.” Was all this an expression of loyalty to his country? Had that led him to assassination? Encrid did not know. But it seemed worth finding out. He flicked the blood from his sword and slid it into its sheath. Only then did the Fairy Company Commander and Jaxon come outside. “You certainly make a racket when you fight.”

As Jaxon spoke, his eyes swept over Encrid's entire body. He did not appear injured, apart from the scratches he had acquired crashing through the window. “I expect at least this much from my lover.”

The Fairy Company Commander delivered those alarming words in her usual flat tone. “They'll get the wrong idea. If anyone hears you.”

Flustered, he had blurted out the wrong-idea part first, reversing the sentence. “Will they?”

The commander brushed it off. “You took some alive, right?” “We did.”

At Jaxon's answer, Encrid nodded and went inside. On the ground floor, he found the prisoners already bound. Looking around, he saw only a few of the trading company's guards. Some had died. 'The attackers' skill...'

It was not particularly high. But that was only by Encrid's standards. An ordinary trading company's guards would have had considerable difficulty facing them. Above all, the last opponent he had killed was a military veteran. He could have cut down a couple of mediocre mercenaries in an instant. Where had a group like this come from? The question arose unbidden. When he entered the ground floor, his charge—the trading company's young lady—was already downstairs. Blood and bodies surrounded her, some belonging to her own people. It might as well have been the middle of a battlefield. There had been over twenty assailants, after all. More than half had been killed or captured by the commander and Jaxon. He saw three or four people from the trading company retching. Understandably so, with corpses, blood, and entrails everywhere. Yet she looked composed, merely furrowing her brow. Her boot heels clicked as she approached. “Your name?”

The woman came up and asked. Encrid pointed at himself. She nodded, and he spoke. “Encrid.” “Are you all right?”

She gestured toward his back as she asked, and Encrid nodded. He had the leather armor to thank. As Rem had said, an ordinary sword strike would not cut through it. He had assessed his opponent's skill in an instant and decided he could take the blow on his body, so he had. How would he have stopped it otherwise? He would have used another means. He might not have tried anything as crude as blocking with his body, but at the time, he had considered it the best option. “Very well. I'll see that you're compensated later.”

He had not done it for a reward. “There's no need. It's my duty.”

At that, the woman worked her lips a few times before speaking. “I'm Leona.” “Yes.”

He already knew her name. After introducing herself, she looked around, drew a long breath, and let it out. “Compensate the families of those who died.” “Yes, my lady.”

Her nurse approached and answered, legs trembling. She seemed more shaken than Lady Leona herself. Judging by the vomit around her mouth, she seemed to have already had a bout of retching at the sight. She was deliberately avoiding looking at the floor. Lady Leona, on the other hand...

'She's composed.'

Was she more accustomed to such things than he had expected? No. She had a different sort of resolve. Or perhaps she had prepared herself for this. Encrid glanced at those dealing with the aftermath and stepped back. Leona did not speak to him again. As he moved to one side of the inn, he saw the innkeeper's stricken face. This would be a first for him, too. Just what madman had done this? Encrid was beyond curious now. He wanted to find out. 'Glory to the motherland.'

It did sound as though there were Aspen spies in Border Guard. “The one who looked like their leader got away,” Jaxon said beside him. “Why didn't you catch him?” “Why would I?” He had come to guard someone, so guard them he would. The proper attitude for a soldier carrying out a commission. Jaxon conveyed that not merely with words but with his whole manner. Encrid did not scold him for it. This was still probably better than bringing Rem or any of the other squad members. “Well done.” “Two days left.” It sounded like a reminder to stick to their escort duty. Work was work. Jaxon was right, but...

'I do wonder who's behind this.' It had happened in the early evening. As darkness settled, the stench of blood filled the air. Some of the few guests remaining checked out. Just as the innkeeper's face began to twist further, Lady Leona spoke. “Our trading company will cover your losses.” Watching her back as she spoke, Encrid saw no frightened bird. She stood proud. She could not have spent her whole life sheltered within the trading company. After watching her silently for a moment, he asked, “Are we staying up all night, Company Commander?” “Do you want to?” “No.” “We'll take shifts. You rest first.” “Yes.”

Without protest, Encrid went upstairs. As he climbed, he closed and opened his hand. How skilled had the opponent he killed been? He seemed at least as good as that stabbing freak Encrid had met on the battlefield during his first repeating today. Because Encrid had used a trick during their fall from the second floor, the man had been forced to fight injured.

'His internal organs were damaged.'

He would not have been able to put his full strength into his limbs either. But that did not dim the shine of victory.

'I'd have won even if he'd been at his best.' Confidence. A word he had never truly known in his life. Now a little of it blossomed in his chest. He would still walk like a tortoise, but his steps would be different from before. Encrid felt he had taken a step toward his dream. It was so small that it might not even look as though he had lifted his foot, but the fact that he had moved forward gave him a sense of fulfillment. “You saved our lives.”

He encountered one of the guards coming down the stairs. “If we hadn't asked Border Guard for an escort...”

The female guard's face turned deathly pale as she spoke. She was the woman who had been guarding Leona at close quarters. Walking already, with a hole in her belly? Was she that desperate to die? “It was shallow. A close call. It missed my internal organs.”

The guard spoke, apparently noticing his gaze. “I'm glad.”

They looked at each other awkwardly before Encrid passed her and continued upstairs. “Thank you.”

The woman thanked him again. Encrid took it in stride. It was what he had to do. That was his duty, his commission. Encrid rested for exactly half a day and rose in the predawn hours. “Your shift, Squad Leader.”

The Company Commander had called for him, though he had already opened his eyes. The commander, Encrid, and Jaxon shared a room. Since they used it in turns, there was no problem. Besides, they were soldiers before they were men or women. There had been an attack despite the presence of a Border Guard standing-army escort. The attack had prompted a response: two squads from Second Company had deployed outside the inn. [“Whoever the son of a bitch is, I'll catch him and kill him for you.”]

One of Second Company's Platoon Commanders had spoken with confidence. Encrid had heard they had taken the prisoners away. Encrid went downstairs alone. Despite the thorough cleaning, the hall still smelled faintly of blood mixed with several other unpleasant odors. Dim candlelight illuminated the hall. No one was there. The ordinary guests had long since left for other inns, leaving the main hall completely empty. Encrid claimed a table and sat down. Then he began his Review. It was only natural to him. He had kept doing it even when today was not repeating. As he continued his Review and the exercises he could perform while seated, someone came down the stairs just before sunrise. “You're up early.”

It was his charge, Lady Leona.