Chapter 187 - Are You Really Going to Become a Knight?
Watching the man named Enkrid made one clench their fists without even realizing it. Most of the soldiers felt something similar when they looked at him. Because they knew he had clawed his way up from the very bottom. Because they had seen with their own eyes his efforts being rewarded.
Watching Enkrid, the group of soldiers, including Vengeance, clenched their fists. In those hands, they gripped spears, swords, and maces. The soldiers banded together. They swung their weapons. An unseasonable heat once again set the barracks ablaze.
"The soldiers seem to be working harder than usual these days. Why are they suddenly like this?"
The atmosphere was different from before. Enkrid, feeling it on his skin, threw out a comment. Krais, who was standing beside him, snorted.
"Are you asking because you don't know?"
Would I ask if I knew?
"The atmosphere in the market district is not good, so I'm going to go take a look."
Instead of answering, Krais left. Well, passion and heat—Enkrid liked those words too. He didn't care about the reason. If they trained hard, it would help them save their own lives.
Thanks to that.
"Give me a match, please!"
The number of people seeking him out like this also increased. Something similar had happened before, and Enkrid welcomed those who sought him out. The only difference from before was…
Clink. Thwack.
…that every fight ended in one or two exchanges. What was the point of fighting if it wasn't a challenge? The openings were too obvious, and his body moved reflexively in response. He didn't even need to strike the descending blades with his training sword; a simple push was enough.
The new sword style he had learned was based on the formal sword. He would move his body to the left and swing the sword to the right, creating a blind spot in his opponent's vision. Humans feel uneasy when they can't see, so they immediately turn to eliminate the blind spot. And in that gap, a reverse thrust. It was a simple two-move combination, but it worked time and again, even against the Border Guard members.
"You've changed," Torres muttered, clutching his solar plexus, which ached from the solid hit, even if it was from a blunt-tipped sword.
No, it was more than just a change. A quasi-knight? He seemed to be at that level. How did his skills improve so much?
The Border Guard was also a group of men who challenged the limits of humanity. A collective of individuals equipped with all sorts of techniques and sword styles. Torres was a member of that guard and one of the people who had watched Enkrid from the side.
'This bastard might actually become a knight.'
There was a time when he had thought Enkrid's declaration of becoming a knight was a faded dream worthy of ridicule. Now, even in the eyes of others, Enkrid's dream no longer seemed so empty.
"Shouldn't you be adding 'sir' to Company Commander? Soldier? Private Torres?"
"Huh?"
"Me, I'm a Company Commander, albeit temporarily," Enkrid said, pointing to himself with his thumb.
"...Company Commander, sir."
"I'm kidding."
"You bastard." Torres said, laughing.
Rank was rank, and relationships were relationships. There was no need to maintain a strict hierarchical relationship with Torres or Vengeance. He wasn't their direct superior, either. The chain of command in the Border Guard's standing army was rather fluid. He'd heard that in the capital garrison, you'd get beaten to death if you looked at a rank insignia the wrong way, but that was there, and this was here.
"You're starting to resemble the 4th Company Commander."
Torres's words gave Enkrid much to think about. Those elven jokes?
"Hah, anyway, I'm leaving."
After Torres left, a few more members of the Border Guard requested a spar. Enkrid had no reason to refuse.
He would wake up in the morning and train in the Isolation Technique and his sword style. After lunch…
"Time for a match, right?"
Rem would charge. He was still overwhelmingly strong. If he properly activated Heart of the Beast, well, Enkrid felt he could get close, but…
'If I overdo it, I won't be able to handle the afternoon training schedule.'
He had already paid the price for getting excited and running wild several times. Enkrid controlled himself. This was training, not a real battle. Rem also controlled himself. He had no desire to get excited and split Enkrid's head open like before.
After the lunch spar, familiar faces would start to appear one by one.
"Take a look at my skills too."
Vengeance also came by often. He was asking to be properly taught. Enkrid agreed with the saying that one learns while teaching, so he did not refuse.
"But what about the title?" Enkrid didn't forget his joke.
"Are you trying to be like the elf Company Commander?" He heard the same words he had heard from Torres. For some reason, this was vaguely unpleasant.
The sun was good for several days straight. After his return, aside from a brief dawn rain on the third day, only sunny days followed.
"Nice day. A good day for training."
"I think you said the same thing on a rainy day. Is there such a thing as a bad day for training for you, Commander?"
As he muttered about how nice the bright morning sun was, Rem asked from behind. Enkrid thought for a moment, then answered.
"Nope."
"...If you get hit in the head one more time, you might go back to normal. Don't give up, Company Commander. You can become a normal person!" Rem shouted passionately.
Enkrid, after telling him to get the sleep out of his eyes before talking, continued his unchanging day. The next day it rained, but the schedule was the same. A day that was a carbon copy of the one before.
Many eyes in the barracks watched him. What should one say? It was no longer tiresome to watch. Rain or shine, he had always been that kind of person. Nothing had changed just because his skills improved, he was different from before, or he had become a company commander. Enkrid was Enkrid.
A fortnight after his return. On one of those fine days, after the lunch spar, Rem wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve and sat on the ground.
"That apple wine was delicious," Rem said abruptly, and the words caught in Enkrid's ear. It was intuition, or a sixth sense. It felt like he had something to say but was beating around the bush. Rem? Beating around the bush? Enkrid thought it was a rare sight, so he waited silently for Rem to speak.
"If you have any left, give me some on the sly."
There was none. All that was left was his own small portion for emergencies. He had told him to sip it, but that bastard Rem had chugged it down, and there was nothing left for his mouth. It was a wine that even Ragna had left a rare, favorable comment on. Which meant everyone had enjoyed it. Jaxen had taken a couple of sips, and Audin had probably had about five.
But this bastard Rem had beaten around the bush twice now. Enkrid knew something was up.
"Did you kill someone?" he asked about the most likely possibility.
"Huh?"
"I asked if you killed a superior officer from another unit while I was gone."
Can it be handled? If he hadn't been caught yet, it meant he had hidden it well. The problem would be the cleanup afterward.
"What are you talking about?"
So he didn't kill anyone?
"Did you beat someone up? Did you cripple them?"
This was also a big problem. But it was better than murder. He just hoped he hadn't crippled them.
"It wasn't the 1st Company, was it?" he asked again.
"...I want to ask you something. What exactly do you take me for?"
A mad dog that goes berserk at the slightest touch. A psycho who beats up anyone he doesn't like, superior officer or not. A pervert who harasses the surrounding soldiers when he's bored, and harasses them twice as much if he likes them.
"That look in your eyes… Shit, I think I'm really hurt right now. I've never seen a look like that in my life."
The fact that it was the first time was also surprising. He had been suspicious, just a little, but it had mostly been a joke. It was their daily routine to catch their breath with jokes like this before going to lunch. And it was during this time that Rem had spoken up.
"Well, as long as you didn't kill or beat anyone up, it's fine," Enkrid said.
Rem let out a sigh, looked up at the sky, and then spoke. His gaze was cast off to the side, and he was under a tree about five paces from Enkrid. Hadn't Battalion Commander Marcus had a tree transplanted next to the training ground?
"A training ground without shade is too bleak."
He was a surprisingly meticulous person. Sitting on opposite sides of the tree, Rem's voice began to be heard.
"When I was young, my father first taught me how to use a spear. It was, well, fun."
What is he trying to say? He was vaguely reminded of the words the spirit in the cursed sword had rambled on about. Family, swordsmanship, bloodline, an unfulfilled wish. Those things had bound it to the earth. Did Rem have things like that too? Weren't humans beings who were bound to something? Be it a dream, status, power, or krona.
"I learned to hunt. That was fun too."
But this bastard.
"I learned the sword too. That was also fun."
Did he need to be taught how to speak again? When he was teasing and tormenting others, his words flowed so well, but now he was fumbling awkwardly. At times like this, he seemed to have more openings than Ragna. Then again, all the remaining company members were similar when they talked about themselves. Awkward and fumbling. The only time they spoke most clearly was when teaching swordsmanship. He knew this because he had heard their stories, one by one, knowingly or not. Things like Rem being from the West, and Ragna being from the North.
Among them, Rem's story this time was different. His way of speaking was clumsy, but the content was worth listening to.
"Around that time, the Western War broke out. It wasn't a pretty sight, but what could you do? When they're coming at you to kill you, you can't just quietly offer up your neck."
Countless wars still broke out on the continent. Hadn't Naurillia itself just expanded the scale of its war with Azpen to occupy the Green Pearl Plains? In time, this too would be named something like the Green Pearl Plains War. And the Western War that Rem was talking about now was quite gruesome. Dozens of pioneer villages had each proclaimed their own kings. Some called it not the Western War, but the War for the Throne. In the end, one of the tribes was victorious, but it was a victory full of scars. Afterward, they had to submit to the Empire for having laid the West to waste.
"I used a sword back then. That was fun too. Why are you looking at me like that?"
Damn genius bastard. He was saying that every weapon he picked up was fun. From what he was saying, it seemed Rem had also been active during the Western War. Looking at his current age…
"Back then, you would have been about fifteen?"
"Yeah, around that."
At just fifteen.
'What was I doing then?'
Was I struggling to leave my village? Did I still believe I had talent? Was it a time when I believed that if I worked hard, it would all work out, since time is fair to everyone?
Time was not fair. You could tell just by listening to Rem's story. The clock of the talented sometimes ticks more faithfully than that of those with less.
"So, there's something I want to ask," Rem said.
The context was nonexistent, it didn't make sense, and though it was unintentional, it was mixed with boasting about being a genius. In between, he heard something about killing some blockhead from a neighboring tribe during the war. He didn't even know who that was, so what did it matter?
And at the end of it all, he threw out a word. A question.
"Are you really going to become a knight?"
Even though it was a completely random question, Enkrid was not flustered at all. Perhaps it was because it was a question he was always thinking about. How could Enkrid not have asked himself?
'Can I become one? Is it possible? What is a knight?'
There is no answer within the repeated questions. That is why he could only take one step forward at a time. Because there was no other path, that's what he did. Literally, whether it rained or snowed. Whether the sun blazed down. Even on the road for a mission. Even knowing that this very day would end in death. To call it stubborn would not have been enough.
"Yes."
There was not a shred of hesitation in his answer. Enkrid was calm. It was no different from any other day. It was the same as any other answer. And to Rem, that came across as fresh once again.
"Can you become one?"
"I don't know."
An honest sentiment. No one knows the future. He didn't even believe the words of prophets.
"Is that so?"
"Yeah."
"I see."
"That's right."
A few trivial words were exchanged. After that, it was ordinary. They ate, rested, and sparred. Rem didn't ask a similar question again. He was calm. There was no way to know his inner thoughts.
Rem contemplated. If that man really becomes a knight, if that happens…
'Should I go back and get what I left behind?'
It was a rather serious consideration. The thing he had left behind when he left his homeland. If he brought that back, he might not be able to become a knight as they defined it, but he would be at a knight's level. The snobs of the continent narrowed the path to becoming a knight to just one, but Rem thought differently. And it was true. In the West, they used the word 'hero' instead of knight. A hero to pioneer the continent—a word derived from an old legend. And Rem had been the best among the next generation of hero candidates. He had been.
A brief moment of thought, a few ideas flashed through his mind. Rem, who had been watching Enkrid swing his sword day and night, made a decision.
"Then I'll become a knight too," Rem said, tossing the words out casually.
The usual Enkrid would have teased him or twisted his words to mock him. For example:
"Do you have to?" "You can't become a knight by beating up your superior officer." "Is your head hurting?"
He thought he would hear words like that, but…
"Oh, yeah?"
It was a calm reaction. And what followed was only natural.
"A spar?"
Rem found that strangely pleasing. Wasn't he a remarkably consistent human being? And within that, the hint of respect in his tone and way of speaking was also quite to his liking.
At the time when Rem was sharing his decision with Enkrid, outside the city, a person with their face wrapped in a black hood was looking at the walls of the Border Guard.
'They're high.'
An ordinary monster would find it difficult to jump over. But. What about a high-level beast?
And on top of that.
"It's a temporary alliance."
Ten bandits from the Black Sword. With this, wouldn't it be enough to cause a major disturbance?