Chapter 77 - When Bored, Spar

“Then we will spend two days here. If the matter remains unresolved afterward, both of you will be taken to the base under guard. Once you are there, we will address the matter when witnesses or evidence become available.” Torres settled the arrangements. Polid tried to rise in protest, but that ridiculous son of a bitch on his side caught his shoulder and stopped him with a whisper in his ear. Leona remained composed.

“Very well.”

She readily nodded, as though this were just what she had wanted. Watching events unfold, Encrid poked Jaxon in the side. Ever alert, Jaxon blocked his finger with a palm.

“What is it?”

“Do you collect knives?” Encrid had had no idea. He had never seen any sign of it. Everything Jaxon kept in their quarters was army issue. This was a man who did not even bother with personal belongings. “It is Carmen’s stiletto,” Jaxon replied, as though that answered everything. Encrid did not really understand. All he had picked up about the Carmen Collection was that it was famous and expensive. Seeing his reaction, Jaxon spoke again. “You could have dozens of gold coins and still be unable to acquire it. Do you know who Carmen was? They do not call him a master craftsman for nothing. When even one of those blades appears on the black market, people fight and kill each other over it. A few years ago, the katar, the third piece in the Carmen Collection, surfaced and caused trouble between the assassins’ guilds.” Encrid did not know this either, but it had been far more than mere trouble. Several professional assassins had died. Of course, those who lived outside the underworld had no way of knowing that. All that remained was word that Georg’s Dagger, the foremost band of assassins on the continent, had recovered it. “The stiletto was Carmen’s fourth creation.” The first was a pocketknife. Named First Kill because it was the first knife he had used to kill a person, it was believed to have broken and been lost. The second was a long, slender sword concealed in a cane—a sword stick. The third was the katar, and the fourth the stiletto. For his fifth, he made a single-edged hunting knife; for his sixth, a swordbreaker. His seventh was the Invisible Blade, whose blade could not be seen when drawn in broad daylight. Seven daggers, and seven stories. That was why Carmen’s name had endured. He had made exactly seven weapons for seven targets, all for revenge. With First Kill, he killed the slave trader who had owned him. With the second, the Sword Stick, he stabbed the soldier who had violated his sister in the back. With the third, the Katar, he killed the nobleman’s squire who had led that soldier. With the fourth, the Stiletto, he pierced the heart of the nobleman the squire served. With the fifth, the Hunting Knife, he slit the throats of those in the nobleman’s pay, one by one. It was said he completed his revenge with the sixth, the Swordbreaker, by breaking the sword that nobleman had cherished. Rumor had it that the seventh and last weapon, the Invisible Blade, had never fulfilled its purpose. Another story said that he himself was the final target of his revenge, and that he had driven it into his own heart. The truth would never be known. All of this had happened decades ago, after all. “Do you keep all those stories memorized?” Jaxon had related the whole tale in one go, speaking quietly and evenly. Encrid had been unable to interrupt. Despite his calm tone, a strange heat had burned in Jaxon’s eyes throughout—a passion bordering on madness. Unable to stop him, Encrid had listened to it all before tossing out that single question: did he keep it all memorized? Jaxon answered as though it were nothing.

“I simply know it. I do not memorize it.”

Only then did he return to his usual self. “It seems we are stuck here for another two days.”

He wanted to rush out immediately, but the escort assignment held him back. He still had a duty to fulfill. To Encrid, however, it looked as though he was changing the subject.

‘Surely not.’

A curious thought struck him as he watched Jaxon.

‘Is he embarrassed?’ His face had not reddened, and he showed no sign of being flustered, but he was plainly steering the conversation elsewhere.

“I would like to capture him myself, but I cannot abandon our escort assignment.”

He seemed eager for them to move on to this subject. “Will you sell the Carmen Collection piece if you get it?”

Intrigued, Encrid prodded him.

“Why would I sell it?”

Jaxon’s eyes widened more than usual as he shot back. He really did seem to like it. It was not about the Krona. He simply wanted that stiletto. What peculiar taste. Well, some people would consider it an incredible prize. Krais in particular would drool at the sight of it. Selling it would fill his pockets. But to want it purely for its value as a collectible? Wasn’t that an exceedingly peculiar taste? ‘It’s a dagger an assassin used to kill someone.’

Famous or not, what could make someone want to keep it? This was not some idle rich man’s morbid hobby. Still, he neither challenged Jaxon nor asked further questions. He simply maintained his usual approach: do not intrude too far into his squad members’ personal lives. That was the secret to how he had kept his position as Squad Leader all this time. Leaving Jaxon alone, Encrid turned his gaze toward Polid’s party. Off to one side, the plain-looking man—that ridiculous son of a bitch—was talking to the swordsman with the loosely hanging arms. They were whispering when Encrid met the eyes of the man wearing the rapier. The man’s gaze brushed over him and moved on. Encrid looked at him as well. He still wanted to try fighting him.

* * *

“Things have become complicated.”

“We chose poorly.”

“We did not have much choice.”

“Didn’t we?” The swordsman questioned the plain-faced man’s remark in a bored tone. He was not particularly interested. His eyes swept over the Fairy and her companions. ‘An interesting bunch.’

The Fairy bitch interested him most. Their Nidle was said to be a sword of speed. He wanted to pit himself against it. Before that, though, the men beside her looked quite capable too. What if they had served under him?

‘They would have been worth training.’ Neither was bad. He even liked the way the reddish-brown-haired one walked. Quiet, and ready to draw his sword anywhere, at any moment. “What do we do now?”

“What have we always done when things became complicated?”

At the swordsman’s question, the man smiled softly. It was an agreeable smile.

“Resolved them with brute force.”

“Then let us do that.” The swordsman looked at the man whose eyes had briefly met his. A handsome soldier. He did not seem particularly young, yet he reminded the swordsman of an excited boy who had only just taken up a sword. His eagerness for a fight was that obvious. It would be a lie to say that did not draw him in. Wasn’t wanting to answer another man’s bravado something like a swordsman’s fate? “I will leave it to you.”

The brown-haired man gave a slight bow, then moved to Polid’s side and began soothing him. “Please remain calm. There is nothing to worry about. Without evidence, they have nothing, do they? More importantly, whose side will the company’s people take once we return to the city?”

“But, but what if they catch him?”

“Even then, we will be fine.” The brown-haired man smiled, his eyes crinkling. Polid was still uneasy, but with no other choice, he forced a smile.

“Trust me.” At those words, Polid scraped together his courage and added,

“Once we get back, it’s over. They’re all Father’s people. They’ll all back me. Then that whore is dead. Though that would be a bit of a waste, so I might take her as my concubine.” Would he really? The brown-haired man thought Polid an imbecile, but did not let it show. The woman named Leona watched the two of them in silence. She was too far away to hear their conversation. The brown-haired man trusted in the brute force the swordsman had promised. The swordsman, meanwhile, was wondering whether beating down the soldier who looked so eager to fight him would earn him a match with the Fairy.

* * *

Jaxon heard their conversation, but had no interest in it. It sounded like an act meant to reassure that imbecile Polid. All he wanted was Carmen’s stiletto. ‘Krais.’

He privately hoped Krais had thoroughly won over the guild members by now. In truth, he trusted that he had. Krais was useless at physical work, but exceptionally resourceful. Jaxon had seen enough of that while serving in the same squad. There was no cause for concern. ‘If things go wrong...’

He could acquire the dagger by other means. As Encrid backed off out of respect for Jaxon’s hobby, Torres approached, having finished settling matters.

“Been well?”

“No reason not to be.”

“True enough. Looks like we have two days to kill at this inn.” Torres was right. But did they really have to spend that time doing nothing? Encrid trusted Krais to do his part. The back alleys had their own rules, and some work was best left to an expert. What sort of man was Krais? He had gone out of his way to join the troublemaker squad. Why? There were probably several reasons, but one was clear: in the troublemaker squad, he did not have to fight. Its atmosphere was nothing like that of the other squads. He knew how to find his place. He must have had something in mind when he proposed taking over the guild. Encrid trusted that judgment. Sure enough, someone sent by Krais arrived that evening.

“Is there someone named Encrid here?”

It was a boy who looked about thirteen or fourteen, his voice only just beginning to deepen. He asked with his eyes darting nervously from side to side, as though frightened. The soldier guarding the inn gestured inside with his eyes. Encrid, who had been training in the hall with the Isolation Technique using chairs and tables, heard and came forward. He had taken off his shirt, so he had hastily draped a large cloth around himself. When he stepped outside, the cold wind quickly cooled the sweat on his forehead. It was bitterly cold. “That’s me.”

Wearing a coat patched together from thin cloth, the boy looked steadily at Encrid.

“I’ve been sent with a message.”

He spoke crisply. Encrid took a few copper coins from his pocket. The boy was frightened, watchful, and shivering; he looked as though he could use a little money. Encrid liked his clear, firm manner of speaking, too. Instead, the boy refused the Krona.

“No, thank you. The guild pays me.”

After refusing, he handed over a small note. It was quite impressive. It also made it seem as though Krais had complete control of the guild. A young errand boy turning down Krona! “Who’s that?”

One of the soldiers stationed around the inn approached and asked. Encrid told him honestly that Krais had sent the boy.

“What’s he up to out there now?” Krais was a resourceful man with his fingers in all sorts of ventures: handling information, selling tobacco, arranging visits from prostitutes. Hiring a boy to run an errand was perfectly ordinary. Encrid went back inside and opened the note.

- Before the morning two days from now.

It was brief, but clear enough. Krais would catch the man soon. “May I ask what you’ve been doing all day?”

Torres spoke from behind him as he tossed the note into the fireplace.

“Training.”

“While on escort duty?”

“I doubt anyone will attack right this moment.”

“Still, doesn’t your client object?”

“As you can see.” “It’s a pleasant sight.”

Leona was watching too. Encrid did not care who watched. Hadn’t Audin told him?

[“The Isolation Technique builds one day upon another. Think of each carefully spent day as the foundation on which you build the fortress wall that is your body.”] Encrid had thought that a rather grand way of saying not to skip a day. He had resolved to follow that advice whenever possible. Once he made up his mind, he acted. He had added the Isolation Technique to his daily sword training. “Don’t you get sick of it?”

Not a chance. It was nothing but enjoyable—the pleasure of watching himself change day by day. He maintained his sense for the blade as he trained, and used Concentrate on a Single Point as well. Only the heart of the beast was difficult to use during training. He had taken his shirt off again and was continuing the technique. “Perhaps it’s because you’re a trading company’s daughter, but you’re not shy around men.”

Torres chuckled, seated backward on a chair. Rather than answering, Leona gave a small smile. All the while, she admired Encrid. That face, that body—even the sweat running down him as he trained. He suited her tastes perfectly. Encrid continued moving, still ignoring everyone’s eyes on him. Watching him from her seat on the inn’s stairs, the Fairy Company Commander asked Jaxon,

“Does your Squad Leader usually enjoy being watched, soldier?”

“I wouldn’t know.” Jaxon was curt. The Company Commander neither pressed him nor took him to task. She too was studying Encrid closely. A handsome face and a well-trained body were always welcome sights, weren’t they? Encrid pressed both palms onto a chair, stretched his legs straight out in front of him, and bore his weight on his arms. Each time he lowered his body below the chair and raised it again, the muscles along the outsides of his upper arms flexed. Two more Border Guard members joined Torres as he watched.

“Is that the fellow?”

“The Spellbreaker who turned us down? That’s him.”

They spoke as though they wanted Encrid to hear. Having just finished a full round of the technique, Encrid made Torres an offer.

“If you’re bored, how about a spar?” They had time to fill anyway. There was also a large open yard behind the inn. All of its facilities were meant for the guests, and this space was for mercenaries and swordsmen escorting trading companies. Sometimes an argument would lead to a fight there. It was more than adequate for a spar. “The young lady is very generous.”

Torres looked at Leona again as he spoke. She nodded without a moment’s hesitation.

“This should be entertaining.”

He had been asking indirectly whether she minded, and she gave her permission at once. Torres was itching for some action himself. The two Border Guard members behind him were even more enthusiastic.

“They say he’s a high-grade soldier.”

“You’re going first, Captain Torres? Aren’t you supposed to work your way up from the bottom?” They all seemed very interested in Encrid. He was delighted to have more opponents.

“Let’s have a bout with each of you.” That sparked an unexpected frenzy of sparring. Drawing real swords might mean the bouts would not remain mere practice, so they broke off suitable branches to use instead. Even so, everyone was serious. “I’ll join in.”

Even the Company Commander took part, and everyone in the inn became a spectator. “They’re mad.”

Only Leona’s guards were left shaking their heads. These people were all mad. Who sparred while on escort duty? Of course, they could not stop it. Their own mistress, Leona, had given her permission.