Chapter 78 - Coloring Others With Passion

Torres was as skilled as ever. Encrid lost seven out of every ten bouts against him.

"You've improved."

Torres stood still, catching his breath as he spoke.

A question occurred to Encrid anew. What would happen if they fought in earnest with real swords?

He did not know. He was not the sort to feel certain about a fight. However skilled a swordsman might be, a dagger through the heart would kill him even if a seven-year-old held it. Skill aside, there was no knowing who would win a fight to the death.

"Have I?"

Encrid answered from where he lay, then sprang to his feet.

"My turn next."

"Come on, then."

Though it was cold enough to see their breath, sweat flew and heat rose in the clearing behind the inn. Encrid was not sure how it had happened, but everyone was fighting only him. One bout after another. For him, it was time well spent.

Torres and the other Border Guard members excelled at unconventional attacks. That did not mean their fundamentals were lacking, either.

A guard snapped a branch in two and took a piece in each hand.

"Daggers are my specialty. Careful you don't get hurt."

Each branch was half the length of a forearm.

"We'll both have to be careful."

"That's what I'm saying. Let's both watch ourselves."

The guard grinned. There was heat in that smile—a pure desire to win, without a trace of hostility.

CLACK!

Branches struck together as Encrid fought once more. After they exchanged several moves, he naturally expected his opponent to close the distance. Instead, the man crossed his two short branches, caught Encrid's sword between them, and wrenched it aside. Having thrown him off balance, he hurled a branch into Encrid's torso.

"In a real fight, that would've been your eyeball."

This man was good too. Nearly as good as Torres. Encrid could see why the Border Guard received special treatment. He nodded silently. Another defeat.

It was time for a short rest. Naturally, everyone took a break.

Jaxon leaned in the doorway between the clearing and the inn. As Encrid came inside, he spoke.

"Just because your opponent has daggers, you mustn't focus solely on him closing the distance. Are you going to fight with nothing but fundamentals because yours are well drilled? If someone crawls toward you, is bringing your sword down on his back the only answer? Why not kick him?"

Win or lose, Jaxon had something to say. It was a lesson. Someone else might have called it nagging, but not Encrid. He listened attentively.

"I didn't know you could do that with daggers."

"His usual weapon is probably some kind of swordbreaker."

A swordbreaker was a blade with a saw-toothed spine. In other words, breaking his opponent's weapon was one of that man's specialties.

"You did well to keep him at a distance, but you should have considered what came next."

Jaxon went over everything that had happened in the bout, one detail at a time.

Encrid gave every bout his best. Had he let the man close in, he would simply have lost. That was why he had kept his distance—and thanks to that, he had seen a swordbreaker technique. What he had done well deserved credit. Jaxon pointed that out too.

"Think about how to counter it."

Swordsmanship fundamentals, conditioning the body, learning techniques, even training methods that ingrained those techniques in the body—all of that was good. But he had to work out for himself how to handle the situations that arose during a bout. That was Jaxon's advice, and Encrid agreed.

He had to repeat a movement hundreds of times before his body would begin to learn it. To make anything his own, he had to think it through. Review and reflection. Those were his weapons, so that was what he did.

"My turn once you've rested."

It was another guard, one skilled with both sword and feet. Not just footwork—he constantly mixed kicks into his attacks. He was tricky to face, but that meant there was just as much to learn.

All six Border Guard members, Torres included, took turns sparring with him. While the six used similar techniques, each also showed him something distinctive. They had their own styles, backed by excellent fundamentals. There was much to learn.

In the past, sparring like this would not have helped him much. It could not have been otherwise. Someone who had never climbed a mountain could not truly appreciate the view from its summit. But things were different now.

'Add more to Concentrate on a Single Point.'

The technique he had learned from Ragna was coming into its own. Naturally, the boldness granted by the heart of the beast formed its foundation.

"Keep your senses honed at every moment."

Jaxon was telling him to maintain his sharp senses. Encrid nodded.

Leona approached as he stood sweating.

"You really must enjoy it."

"Enjoy what?"

"Using a sword."

"Does it look that way?"

"Yes."

Leona struck up conversations now and then. It was idle chatter, but to Encrid she looked like a spider studying the prey before it. A greedy spider that would never simply leave its prey alone.

'Though calling someone with those looks a spider is a bit of a stretch.'

She was a beauty who would turn anyone's head.

"Is it because of the Fairy Company Commander? You seem rather unmoved by a woman's looks."

"Not necessarily."

"Then I'm not your type?"

What did she mean by that question? There was a hint of mischief on her face.

"I imagine few men could ignore beauty on your level, Lady Leona. Wouldn't you agree?"

He phrased it indirectly, but Encrid meant he was not interested.

After their idle conversations, Leona would smile simply and sit beside the Company Commander.

"Be careful. He has a history with women."

Then the commander would spout nonsense, and Leona would laugh.

Did she understand the Fairy's jokes? The jokes that put Encrid in such an awkward position kept making Leona laugh.

"You're the wittiest Fairy I've ever met."

"I hear that often."

From whom, exactly?

Encrid nearly twisted his ankle while preparing for another bout. With his senses honed, he could not help hearing their conversation. Their voices were loud enough to hear without listening closely.

"He even has a child with me."

"What?"

"I mean there are people in the unit who believe that."

Wouldn't saying it like that only deepen the misunderstanding? Encrid worried, but Leona merely laughed it off. Whether she believed it or not, he could not tell.

"Are we doing this or not? Worn out already?"

Looking at the men waiting for him, Encrid set his worries aside. The rumors would be awful anyway. Leona's unexpected declaration the other day would probably make them worse.

"The irresistible Squad Leader."

The men guarding the inn outside called him that at every opportunity.

"The irresistible Squad Leader who broke a spell."

"The irresistible Squad Leader who can't leave a woman alone."

He was starting to wish they would stop.

"The irresistible Squad Leader, is it?"

Even Jaxon used the phrase.

"Hm?"

"Every one of those guards has eyes only for you, Squad Leader."

True enough. Somehow, that was how things had turned out. He had spent an entire day sparring like mad. The awkwardness that had hung over them at first was gone. They had all bonded through swords and sweat. In return, Encrid had acquired bruises all over his body.

"Does it hurt?"

When the man who had hit him asked, Encrid shook his head.

"No."

That last strike had been brilliant. He was turning it over in his mind again and again. Against an overhead strike, feign an upward block and cut the forearm instead. Split-second judgment, an eye for timing, and boldness. Everything the move required came to mind of its own accord. He was internalizing experience in a way he never had before.

'Ah.'

Exhilaration swept through Encrid again. He was intoxicated by what was happening.

Sometimes the Company Commander stepped in for something resembling wrestling. In between, Leona would speak to him.

"I'm envious. Perhaps I should have learned too."

She said it after watching the commander snatch Encrid's arm out of the air and hang from it, putting pressure on his elbow joint. Encrid himself had been too busy falling and trying to hold out against the technique.

"Make use of your wrestling, soldier."

The commander, too, began offering the occasional comment. Was it because she had seen him listen to Jaxon, or out of simple goodwill? He still did not know why, but there was no need to question it. He continued listening attentively.

"Your left and right sides are badly unbalanced. Is anyone supervising your conditioning?"

It was not just the commander. The Border Guard members did the same. He heard them say things Audin had told him as well: the imbalance between his left and right sides. Being right-handed might make that seem natural, but...

"The first step toward reaching human limits is to train every muscle in your body. Your strength is decent."

Torres offered advice too.

"You saw daggers and thought only about keeping him out of range, didn't you? Try making it look like you want to draw him in even closer instead. What will he think then? Put an evil spirit in your opponent's head."

How to make an opponent's thoughts tangle.

"That's a bad habit. Deception is all well and good, but you mustn't lose your fundamentals. Where are you going to keep your pivot?"

They pointed out mistakes he made while sparring, too.

He did not know how it had come to this, but he was utterly absorbed, taking every word to heart. He listened attentively, then listened some more. This was different again from spending his time sparring with his squad members.

Did it look like fun?

"Care for a bout with me too?"

Polid's swordsman stepped forward, unfastening his rapier, sheath and all, and setting it aside. Encrid nodded reflexively. It was exactly what he had been hoping for.

"You're an interesting fellow. Sparring like this in the middle of a mission."

"I like to make good use of my time."

He was on an escort mission, and a major trading company's succession dispute had already drawn blood. Even in those circumstances, Encrid gripped his sword and swung it. He had to. His time was not the same as other people's. Those with talent and those without could not be equal. Someone who had to make up for what he lacked would always be short of time.

* * *

The rapier-wielding swordsman was intrigued.

'It's not as though his skill is improving before our eyes.'

This soldier had a charm that drew people in.

The changing relationship between the men called the Border Guard and the man called Encrid was particularly interesting. The wariness between strangers melted away before anyone noticed, and he won their goodwill. It was a remarkable sight, even as it unfolded before the swordsman's eyes.

'A rare talent.'

Not a talent for swordsmanship, however. His current skill was his limit. The swordsman who owned the rapier could see that. The soldier named Encrid had talent elsewhere. Having encountered many gifted people in his life, he was able to recognize it. Had he heard that Encrid dreamed of becoming a knight, he would have shaken his head at once.

Even so, whatever his talent might be...

'I do want to try teaching him.'

His passion was boundless. He let no word go to waste. His talent was dismal, but he possessed a deep, weighty heat entirely separate from that. He had a gift for moving those around him through passion alone.

The instructors who had taught Encrid until now had felt much the same. Though they all knew it would not work, they ultimately tried to pour what they knew into him. They taught him, then taught him again. Such passion and spirit—as though giving up were a phrase that did not exist.

"Care for a bout with me too?"

That was what made him step forward and speak.

"Huh?"

The companion beside him looked at him in surprise. He was surprised himself. They were enemies, after all, in a manner of speaking. Stepping forward here might make him look ridiculous. Would he look even more foolish if the other man refused? The problem was that none of this had occurred to him before he spoke.

Encrid nodded.

"Now?"

His arms were bruised, and his whole body was drenched in sweat. He radiated enough heat to drive away the cold wind blowing through the clearing. Hot steam rose above his shoulders. He must have been tired, too.

Winning and losing were not what mattered. The man was simply enjoying the sparring.

"Good."

The swordsman spoke without realizing it.

* * *

Jaxon questioned the man's motives. The Company Commander nodded with interest. Every Border Guard member was prepared to cut him down if anything went wrong. They had no intention of standing by and letting anything happen to Encrid.

And Encrid...

'A swift sword.'

He was busy picturing his opponent's sword in his mind. How should he react? How should he fight to give himself the best chance of victory? Could he win?

["Don't dwell on it!"]

Rem had said he had never seen a bastard survive who went into a fight thinking about winning or losing. Rather than doubt the outcome...

["Be certain. That comes first."]

Sharpen the blade called certainty. The heart of the beast held boldness within it.

Encrid raised the tip of his branch toward the sky. He focused as though he held a sword's grip in both hands.

In an instant, his surroundings changed. His concentration blazed, turning the space around him into the heart of a battlefield. He could see the armor around his opponent's body and the slender sword in his hand.

Fail to dodge, and he would die. Encrid sank completely into that sudden thought.