Chapter 95 - The Secret to Looking Young Is Endless Training

“At this rate, we must have been married in a past life.”

He probably said that because they ran into each other whenever something came up. They had seen each other on the recent monster hunt, too. “Couldn't we have been enemies?”

Torres had alluded to an old tale, and Encrid parried the remark. There were two kinds of bonds that carried over from a past life: those between people destined to meet, and ill-fated ties between people better off apart. “Ours isn't an ill-fated tie, is it?” Torres said with a chuckle.

“True enough.”

The two men bumped fists. Whatever lay ahead, a familiar face would be better than a stranger. And so they set out, trudging along the gravel road that greeted them outside the northern gate. They were the only two leaving Border Guard. “Is it just the two of us, sir?”

“We're meeting our scouts across the river.” Was the mission not particularly dangerous? Was that why they were sending only two men?

Various thoughts crossed Encrid's mind, but he kept them to himself. Torres was in charge, after all. He only needed to know what Torres told him. They had set out before dawn. By sunrise, Encrid's steady pace had left the clothes beneath his armor damp. Even with the lingering cold, walking fully armed was bound to work up a sweat. He wore a thin, sleeveless undershirt, then a thicker garment that covered his arms. Over those went the leather armor that had protected him from magic and his whistle-dagger sheath. A gambeson, boots, and leather gauntlets completed his clothing and armor. His trousers were relatively thin; there was no helping that, since thicker ones would hamper his mobility. Then there was the thick-bladed dagger called a guard sword at his waist, his newly purchased longsword on his left hip, and a shortsword on his right. That wasn't all. In an emergency, the more weapons he had, the better. He had hidden two knives, one at each ankle, and stowed another two throwing knives at his left forearm. He might be called a light infantryman, but his equipment weighed plenty. And he had added one more piece he didn't usually carry. [“Your left hand is idle. You need to fix that.”]

Those had been Ragna's instructions. Thanks to him, Encrid was carrying a buckler on his back. 'Couldn't I use this as a cooking pot?'

It seemed possible in a pinch. Strip away the leather attached on the handle side, and wasn't it just a thin piece of metal? That was how unnecessary the extra baggage felt. 'Can't be helped.'

He had been told to do it, so he would try. He could use it as a shield first, and if it didn't suit him, think of something else. [“Whether you use a sword and shield or a sword alone, it's time to move on to the next stage. But first, we'll get your balance right.”]

Ragna could be endlessly lazy in everyday life, yet when it came to teaching Encrid, he became the most diligent of instructors. Did that bother him?

'Not at all.'

He was simply grateful. Encrid walked with his Sixth Sense open, scanning his surroundings while going over Ragna's words in his head. From beside him, it made for a rather curious sight. Torres, by contrast, had no visible weapons apart from two short swords strapped together at his left hip. His load was relatively light. Glancing sideways, he thought,

'He's keeping up well.' Despite all that heavy baggage, Encrid kept pace without even panting. His eyes were unfocused, his mind occupied with something, yet he reacted immediately to any sign of movement around them.

'What are you thinking about as you walk?'

Torres found himself growing curious. And that wasn't his only question. He had been on all sorts of operations.

'I'm almost hurt that he isn't asking me anything.'

On a mission with so much kept secret, most people would have plenty of questions. What was going on? What was their objective? What would they be doing across the river? Torres already knew what he would say if asked.

'We're soldiers. Hasn't it occurred to you that our only job is to do as we're told?'

It would have been a chance to deliver a sharp rebuke. But Encrid really wasn't asking anything. “Straight ahead.”

At last, Encrid spoke. Torres looked forward. They had been walking northwest for some time, with the river on their right. Two soaking-wet Ghouls came into view. Their few remaining strands of hair clung together, draped over their pale heads like seaweed. They were lurking behind a large boulder, watching the two men. Their skin was so close to the rock's color that a less careful look could easily have missed them. 'He spotted them before I did?'

Was his perception better than Torres had thought, or was he lucky, as the rumors claimed? There was no telling. Either way, monsters had appeared. Enemies. “One each?”

“Sounds good.”

At Torres's suggestion, Encrid stepped out first to draw their attention. He unstrapped the shield from his back, took it in hand, and drew his longsword. SHING.

'Nice sound.'

People who earned their living by the blade were sensitive to weapons. Torres was no exception. Instead of drawing a weapon, Torres gauged the distance to the Ghouls. Their claws were poisonous. Was there any need to get close? As both Ghouls kicked off toward Encrid, Torres swept a hand past his waist and thrust it forward. The step came first: he planted his right foot hard, then snapped his elbow out, the motion flowing through to his fingertips. The weight on his fingers left his hand. A knife sliced through the air and struck a Ghoul's head. THUNK.

Its head split halfway open, and the blade ricocheted sideways. Ghouls that prowled the waterside often had half-rotten bodies. That explained the foul stench, too. The blade had torn through decaying flesh, shattered the skull, and bounced free. After throwing the dagger, Torres looked toward Encrid. Holding his shield awkwardly, Encrid had knocked aside the Ghoul's claws and was swinging his longsword. The well-placed stroke cleanly severed its rotten neck. Ghoul blood was black. The headless body buckled forward onto its knees, collapsed, and disgorged a gush of black blood. “Weren't there supposed to be hardly any monsters around here, sir?”

They were both platoon commanders, but Torres belonged to the Border Guard, a unit under the kingdom's direct command. Encrid had become a platoon commander himself, yet he still gave Torres due respect. “There can't be none at all. With those human-faced hounds, they probably haven't had troops to spare for this area lately. Still, we won't see many.”

Encrid nodded silently. Watching him, Torres suddenly grew curious. “Aren't you curious where we're going?”

“Across the river, aren't we?”

“First, drop the formalities. A platoon commander is a platoon commander, whether the unit answers directly to the kingdom or not. We seem about the same age, too.” “I'm thirty.”

“I'm even younger than you.”

“Well, all right.”

There was no reason to refuse. “What's your secret to looking so young? We both slog through battlefields, but you still look like that. I feel a little cheated.”

Going by appearances, anyone would have taken Torres for the older man. His features were rather unremarkable, too. He could easily have passed for an inn's serving boy. As he spoke, Torres gave the fallen dagger a cursory rinse in the river's rippling blue-green water, wiped it dry on his sleeve, and tucked it inside his clothes. The knife vanished into his chest. He seemed to have a separate sheath in there, but it disappeared so quickly that Encrid found it fascinating. “Endless training.”

Torres let out a disbelieving laugh at Encrid's answer. The man had a way with words. He really should have brought him into his own unit. With that thought, Torres got to the point. “You know this won't end with just crossing the river, right?”

Encrid nodded.

“Yet you aren't asking anything?”

“Would you tell me if I asked?” He couldn't. Torres didn't know the details himself. All he had were guesses.

“It won't all be fun and games, I suppose.” Encrid blinked as he spoke, and light seemed to flash in his eyes. At least, that was how it looked to Torres. It reminded him of the way Encrid had looked when he said he wanted to fight more monsters.

'Is this bastard actually looking forward to it?'

Because the other side of the river was called the Land of the Monsters and Beasts? “This is oddly entertaining.”

Torres rather enjoyed danger himself. And didn't this man seem much the same?

“Let's go.”

The two resumed their brisk pace. As they neared the ferry landing, Torres spoke again.

“We got here faster than I expected. We'll have some time to spare.” They needed a ferryman to cross the river. Near the landing were rough piles of stones and something that passed for a road. The sun was now well up in the sky. Torres found a suitable patch of shade and sat down. Beside him, Encrid began swinging his sword.

“Aren't you going to rest?”

“This is resting.” No wonder people called him a training maniac. Torres watched Encrid swing his sword through the air. He stepped and struck, from low to high, then high to low. 'An opening.'

The instant Torres thought it, Encrid pulled the sword back and used his arm muscles for leverage, driving the pommel at the opposite end from the blade upward as a weapon. An application of the fundamentals.

'Clean.' Anyone caught in the jaw by that would be eating nothing but porridge for days, at the very least. With bad luck, their days of chewing solid food would be over for good.

'Ouch.'

Just imagining it made his own jaw hurt. Encrid kept moving, even though their journey here had been a fairly grueling march.

'His stamina is damn good.'

He swung and swung again. Watching him, Torres unconsciously gripped a shortsword's hilt and pulled.

SHING.

The blade scraped halfway out of its sheath.

'Ah.'

He had become too absorbed. At the sound, Encrid stopped midswing and turned his head. Their eyes met.

“Want a round?” he offered. This wasn't really the time. Torres didn't understand it, truly didn't, but watching this man Encrid stirred a strange competitive urge. It wasn't hostility. He simply wanted to pit his skills against him. In other words, he wanted to settle the contest their earlier advancement duel had left unfinished. 'I'll have to take this seriously.'

He had seen Encrid deal with harpies and human-faced hounds. Now he had watched him practicing his swordsmanship, too. Could he really still assume Encrid was beneath him?

'A growth spurt. That's what this is.'

The man said he was thirty, yet he was improving at this rate. “Sure. Let's do it.”

Torres sprang to his feet. Encrid sheathed his sword, then drew the entire thing from his belt. Even sheathed, a blow from it would break something. Encrid used a sword style built on powerful strikes. “Good. Sounds good.”

Faced with such utter seriousness, Torres filled the silence with idle words and let his arms hang loose. 'Should I throw a dagger?'

No. A half-baked trick wouldn't work. Then how?

He calculated, considered. An insight earned through countless real battles flashed through his mind.

'In one strike.' The instant he pushed off, Torres shot forward as though skimming the ground. Low and fast. His speed reminded Encrid of Audin's tackle. Reflexively, Encrid bent and raised a knee, swinging his sword down at the same time. Whatever came at him would get hit. Torres sprang sideways. Encrid's sword chased the trail of his movement. His eyes, hands, and feet all followed. He sharpened every sense in his body. Lose track of Torres, and he would lose. That was the lesson of their previous duel. At the same time, he had to keep Torres out of reach. It would be a drawn-out fight. Could he win that way?

If he fought at length while controlling the distance, and if this were a fight with live blades, he thought he could kill Torres. But that wasn't the sort of fight they were having. Encrid deliberately closed the distance. Rather than panic, Torres revealed what he had prepared. Close enough to reach Encrid with his arm only half extended, he flicked his wrist once near Encrid's neck. That was all. His hand held no weapon. He hadn't grabbed Encrid's neck or struck him. Acting on instinct alone, Encrid threw his head back.

SNICK.

That settled the match. Somehow, Torres now held a knife with a handspan-long blade. In a fight to the death, a mere twist of his wrist would have dealt a fatal wound. “I was planning to leave a pretty little cut on your cheek.”

“... What was that?”

Encrid was startled, and with good reason. That hand had clearly been empty. “My secret technique. You think I'd tell you just because you asked?”

“Of course not.”

Encrid hadn't expected him to explain, but to his surprise, Torres did so readily. “You need dexterous hands. It isn't something you can learn overnight, either.”

As he spoke, he turned his wrist over, and the knife in his hand vanished. Another shake of his hand sent the dagger popping out of his sleeve. Looking closely, Encrid saw that both the hilt and blade were relatively thin. It seemed designed to be concealed in a sleeve. “The hidden knife. My secret technique.”

Torres sighed, then added,

“Tsk. I don't show this to just anyone.”

“No, I wouldn't think so.” Encrid got back up and gazed into the distance. There was still time before the ferryman was due.

“Another round?”

At the question, Torres shook his head as though he had had enough, then stood.

“Sure. Let's do it.” It had been a long time since Torres had felt that passion burning in his chest, as it had when he first held a sword. Swept up in the feeling, he joined in. For the first time in a very long while, he felt his skills improving from even a brief spar. Exhilaration, the tension of an imminent life-threatening operation, and other feelings had combined to bring it about. Of course, the biggest reason stood right before him.

'Strange.'

All of this was thanks to Encrid. Torres understood that instinctively. No wonder he found himself calling it strange and remarkable. When the ferryman arrived at the appointed time, he found two soldiers drenched in sweat and panting for breath.

“I heard this was a standing-army mission. Was it training instead?” the old ferryman asked.

There was no answer to that.