Chapter 193 - Handle It Well (1)
At the midnight report, Marcus began with admiration.
"You surprise me every time I see you."
Then he expressed a gratitude that bordered on excessive.
"I'm indebted to you."
How could a Battalion Commander bow his head like that to a mere soldier—no, a Company Commander now? Enkrid simply stated that it was a coincidence and laid out the facts. That was all.
"I see."
After Marcus's words of thanks, he left the office. The rest was up to the person in charge of the Border Guard, Marcus, to handle, wasn't it?
After he finished the report and came out, the elf company commander followed as if to see him off, her gaze cast vaguely ahead. Her expression and tone were indifferent.
"Together tonight? We must maintain our purity before marriage, so we can only sleep holding hands."
"I'll be sleeping without holding any hands. Alone. In my barracks."
"I see."
Does she really call that a joke?
After parting with the elf company commander, Enkrid returned to his barracks, washed off his sweat with water, and settled onto his bunk. Water dripped from his wet hair. As he ran a hand through it, he thought that his hair had grown quite a bit again.
"Just lost some sleep. If you're going to come, come in full force, you bastards."
"All is within the Lord's will. Pray, my brothers and sisters."
"Heard something happened."
"Mrrrrowl."
"Ugh, for the Black Sword to come like this, the situation must be getting pretty ugly."
Everyone added a word or two before going to bed as usual. No, they didn't just sleep. At least, Enkrid didn't. He closed his eyes and replayed the earlier battle in his mind. Win or lose, whether he had overwhelmed them or not, there was something to be learned from every fight. That's what he had been taught, and that's what he had always done. It was the same this time. The fact that he had literally sliced his opponents to pieces didn't change anything.
As he fell asleep replaying the fight, ten white lions charged at him in his dream. But this time, too, he was unshaken. It was manageable. It was a fight he could handle.
Enkrid suddenly felt the extent of his own growth.
'Should I call it laughable?'
What had his battlefields been like before? A place where he had struggled just to survive. A place where he hadn't stepped forward in order to not die. A place where he could only survive by watching from the rear, not by taking the front line.
But now? Even knowing it was a dream, his heart tingled. It had been after a long time of training and discipline. What had he originally wished for? Such overlapping thoughts should have distorted the dream, but perhaps thanks to the Ferryman, his mind was as clear as if it were reality.
The strange thing was that Esther was fighting beside him, but she was not in her panther form. Her skin was so pale it was almost white and smooth, and she wore a black robe that shimmered despite its color. It looked like it was made of expensive material.
"Is that your original form?"
"...Could you not act like you know me in the inner world?"
What's that supposed to mean?
The fact that he could recognize her face even though she wasn't a panther was, even to Enkrid himself, quite a strange thing. But with that black hair and blue eyes, wouldn't anyone recognize her? She told him not to act like he knew her, so he did just that. He ignored her, even though it was a dream.
'But, isn't this my dream?'
The thought that the problem was the person who had appeared from a corner of his own mind did occur to him.
Soon, the pack of white lions began to charge. Ten white lions swung their claws and scimitars, but what had at first seemed like a bloody battle later became a dance. Come to think of it, I never asked her how she learned the Valen-style Mercenary Swordsmanship. At that moment, it didn't even feel important. Rather, 'She acted like she wanted to die, but then suddenly she seemed to have so many lingering attachments to life.' She was a strange beastkin. Even her appearance was unusual. She didn't look like a normal beastkin.
A dream is a dream, and what needs to be done needs to be done. Though a lion had appeared, the dream, which was more of a jumble of thoughts, soon blurred and disappeared.
Waking up, Enkrid looked at the ceiling of the barracks and sat up. Since it was summer, it was already bright outside even though it was dawn.
So, what should he do? He would start with the Isolation Technique. Then swordsmanship training, with time for concentration enhancement in between. He didn't skip the sword-tempering exercises or the training of his five senses either.
Hadn't Jaxen said it? "Training is done every day. Especially sensory training, where each day adds up, so you don't skip it."
That was somehow similar to Audin's philosophy. Wasn't the Isolation Technique the same idea?
"Brother, it's not something you can make up for by doing twice as much the next day after skipping one. That just harms the body. You do it every day. Every day, every day, every day, every day. Did you hear me, brother?"
He had emphasized it so much that the words were branded into his ears. That didn't mean the daily training was torturous. Enkrid also accepted it as a matter of course.
And so began a day of checking, reviewing, and training what he had. While Enkrid was spending the same today as any other, regardless of what had happened yesterday, Marcus, the man in charge of the city who had been so impressed by Enkrid last night, was confirming just how thick-skinned the bastard who had taken the Black Sword's gold was. In a way, he too was an object of admiration.
Dunbakel confessed everything she knew. It was the same even after she was locked in a cell.
"Go to the place called the Border Guard and cause a moderate disturbance. That was the order. Me? I'm more or less a mercenary. I don't know how this whole thing started. However, it's certain that there's a connection with someone inside the city."
At the beastkin's words, Marcus didn't even ask who it was. Instead, he summoned the noble bastard who had taken the bribe to the prison. He came down to the prison with his escort, and when asked if he knew anything, this was his answer.
"I don't know anything about it." The man frowned for a moment, then said again, "You trash-like beastkin, speak straight. Are you really from the Black Sword? Are you going to believe the nonsense of a mercenary who moves for a few gold coins?"
He even got angry. Hearing what the man who had taken the gold said in front of the beastkin, Marcus was utterly flabbergasted.
Can I really not just slice this guy up?
Marcus completely averted his gaze from the noble. He felt that if he kept looking, he would really want to kill him. That didn't mean he was going to let him go. How could he just let go of a man who was causing such a mess?
'I can't slice him up in the city.'
He was still a noble. If something like this happened within the Border Guard, there was a high probability it would become a problem later, even if it was glossed over for now. Even if he managed to cover it up, 'It might become a weakness when I'm active in the capital. No, it will become a problem.' Thinking of the future, that was not an option.
'So what should I do?'
Thanks to his nickname 'The Warmonger,' people often saw him as someone who knew nothing of political intrigue, but that was an absurd notion. To be a central noble, one who maintains power, intrigue is essential. This meant Marcus was also a politician, and he had a talent for backstabbing people.
Marcus made up his mind, deliberated, and came to a conclusion. He couldn't deal with him here, so he would let him go for now. But what about attaching that friend of his who always brought back results beyond what was required whenever he was given a job?
'If I just send them together, it feels like he'll take care of it on his own.'
Enkrid. That friend. He hadn't even sent him on patrol. He had just left him in the barracks, and he had taken care of the Black Sword's elite, turned a Manticore into a bloody pulp, and the cultist who had come with it was now missing a head. That was what had happened last night.
'Should I just try sending him along?'
And if nothing happens? Then he would just leave it at that.
'For now, I'll send him off with that pretext.'
Hadn't those Black Sword bastards been pulling some tricks? He couldn't just let that go either.
Marcus held a sinister thought in his heart, but his words were upright and straight.
"Martai has organized an army."
This was the truth. In the mercenary city, a son of a bitch who called himself a general was preparing for war with the Border Guard. It was a story only a few with sharp ears knew for now, but it wouldn't be long before the rumor that a city war was about to break out would slowly spread.
"And we have no troops to receive as support."
As he spoke, Marcus took a step to the side.
Flicker.
The light from a torch on the wall of the underground cell illuminated half of his face, making the other half even darker. His face looked as if he were agonizing over the city's safety. Martai was clearly superior militarily. Marcus knew it. The noble bastard knew it too. And because he knew it, he was spouting that bullshit about bringing in the Black Sword. It was a matter that would make any commander, any representative of a city, agonize.
"How about hiring them as mercenaries?"
He didn't specify the subject, but the noble's ears perked up. They couldn't openly acknowledge the Black Sword as allies. But didn't that bandit group also do mercenary work? The suggestion was to hire them appropriately and use them for this matter.
The noble, Vansento, who had taken the Black Sword's money, perked up his ears at those words but tried not to show it. In fact, his expression remained impassive. When he finally heard the words he had been waiting for, Vansento was about to open his mouth but swallowed his words, thinking he might seem too eager. He had thought everything had fallen through with the failure of the raid, but no. Had this actually worn Marcus down? It might have.
'Hire them as mercenaries, and then later, let them in…'
Vansento, who had saved his own life with his quick wits as a child, had become an adult and seized power. The sweet taste of power had pickled his brain. He did not properly grasp the situation. The skill of the escort sent from the Black Sword also played a part.
"The captured bitch is a beastkin wench named Dunbakel. She's not hard to deal with, but it must be a lie that he stopped ten raiders by himself. Even I would take time to deal with those ten. He stopped a night raid by himself without even being prepared? The whole Madmen Squad must have moved. A Manticore? I don't know about that. Wouldn't it be better to suspect they're just spreading false rumors?"
Thanks to the Gilpin Guild quickly hiding and swallowing the Manticore corpse, only a rumor remained. A high-level monster's corpse itself is highly valuable. Krais had naturally hidden it within the guild because he planned to dismantle and sell it, but it was a good way to cause a misunderstanding.
'A Manticore? What kind of trick is this?'
It was one of the common strategies used before a war. Puffing themselves up—a trick used because they know they are at a disadvantage if they fight. It must be Marcus's scheme. To take the opportunity of the raid to blow the whole thing out of proportion. In that sense, he was probably propping up that Enkrid fellow.
Vansento didn't even make an effort to properly investigate the situation. It was the same for the escort sent from the Black Sword. He knew that Enkrid had changed. He knew that his platoon members were quite skilled, but…
'If we fight properly.'
Being strong doesn't mean you survive. The one who survives is the strong one. The escort wasn't confident he could win in a fight, but he was confident he could kill him. He was arrogant.
Vansento was already painting a rosy future. These things hardened both of their minds and narrowed their vision.
As he was thinking about such things, Vansento, instead of saying he understood, turned his eyes to Dunbakel and said, "She doesn't seem like a very famous mercenary." A mercenary without a moniker is usually treated as such. "Execute her. When would be a good time to depart?"
Looking at Vansento, Marcus wondered how this bastard had gotten to this position. Then again, this was a drawback of the borderlands. There was no talent. It was rare. Though, considering the talent overflowing in the barracks right now…
"Tomorrow would be good. Before Martai begins its march."
He made an excuse. Vansento's face brightened with satisfaction. Marcus was also satisfied inwardly but kept a solemn expression on the outside.
The remaining beastkin, Dunbakel, was simply buried in the darkness.
"The execution will be later, not now."
A slight delay of her death was all she had gained.
It started with this.
"I heard Martai made some absurd demands. Did you hear? I think the central government should send some support."
It was Vengence. He was off duty today, and he had come to find Enkrid and started talking. Krais, who was listening from the side, burst into a tirade.
"Support? What support? They can't come. No, they won't come. Why? Do I have to explain it for you to know? Fine. Let's talk. A huge war with monsters has broken out in the south. It wouldn't matter if it were just monsters, but the great nation of Lihin-Stetten, said to be the strongest in the south and bordering them, has stealthily gotten involved. In many ways, the fate of the nation is at stake. They're already struggling with the demonic monster hordes, and now Lihin-Stetten? In contrast, the Border Guard has proven its military strength and bought time by blocking Azpen. If it's an internal battle and not Azpen, there's no reason for the central government to get involved. And even if another group got involved, there's Viscount Ventra and Count Molsen to the west. Normally, requesting support from the two noble armies would be the best option, but well, I don't think that will happen. Ventra is practically Count Molsen's hunting dog, and Count Molsen is well-known as a man who doesn't move unless there's a profit."
Enkrid was simply amazed at how Krais could figure all this out while just sitting there. More than that, his non-stop mouth was also amazing.
"Doesn't your throat hurt?"
"Huh? From this? At one point, I played five roles by myself in a puppet show."
That too is a remarkable talent. It couldn't have been easy to lead a play while impersonating five people by himself. Knowing Krais, he wouldn't have done it half-heartedly either. He was a man who would pawn his own soul if it meant krona.
"And how many traveling merchants pass through this city? The Border Guard is a fortress city, but due to its unique characteristics, it's also the best trading city in northern Naurillia. If you just listen, you can hear things. That is the problem and the core of this matter, however," Krais said, cupping his hand behind his ear.
His tone was full of certainty, but how could this be a matter of course? People who predict the future are usually called one of two things: a fortune-teller or a con artist. Krais was neither a fortune-teller nor a con artist. He just had a natural eye for reading the flow of the times.
"On top of that, the Black Sword bastards came, and cultists appeared. It's not good in many ways. You don't have any thoughts of leaving the Border Guard and transferring to another city, do you, Commander?"
He didn't even hear the last question. Even if he left, what about the people who remained?
"Is he being serious? Not even thinking of defending the city!" Vengence shouted in anger.
Krais wasn't being serious either. Enkrid knew that.
"Yes, yes, we have to defend it."
"If you've eaten, do some work, Bug-Eyes," Enkrid said, taking Vengence's side.
"At times like this, I want to react like Rem. Are you taking someone else's side right now? I might get a little hurt, you know? Is that right, boss?"
His experience in puppetry was no joke; his impersonation was quite plausible. He stood with his legs crossed, lips pouting, and spoke in a slouched manner.
"Hmm? Does Bug-Eyes want an axe planted on his head instead of a flower? Is that it?"
The only problem was that Rem was just then coming out of the barracks.
"...That's not it."
"Looks like Venzone is here again. You bored?" Rem added, arbitrarily changing Vengence's name. Vengence acted as if he hadn't heard.
It was in the midst of this.
"Fiancé, you're summoned."
The elf company commander spoke from just outside the training ground's boundary. She was leaning over the short fence, her upper body and face visible. It seemed he was seeing her more often than a messenger these days. It was a summons from the Battalion Commander, so why was a Company Commander-level officer on the move?
"I volunteered because I wanted to see you."
"...Is that so?"
Enkrid was used to the elven jokes by now, so he could let this slide without even laughing.
"Bug-Eyes, you need some training too. Go on, boss. In the meantime, I'll turn this bastard into a fine top-class soldier." Rem gave something like a death sentence to Krais from behind.
"Together, let's go together! Commander! Commander!"
Enkrid prayed for Krais's soul and turned away. Rem seemed to have a lot of pent-up frustration lately; it was probably important for him to blow off steam like this sometimes.
Squeeeeeal!
A sound like a pig being slaughtered was heard from behind, but Enkrid ignored it.
"Murder within the unit is strictly prohibited," the elf company commander said, glancing behind her.
"He won't kill him," Enkrid replied. The elf company commander thought for a moment and then said, "He'll handle it well, I suppose."
Her tone was somehow full of trust.
As he entered the Battalion Commander's office, Marcus said abruptly, "Just one mission. I'd like you to go as part of an envoy."
He said it before Enkrid could even salute. His tone was that urgent.
"An envoy?"
"Ah, we need to hire some mercenaries. So."
An envoy and mercenaries. Weren't those two words that didn't go together? It also sounded like the battle with Martai was really just around the corner. But was it really that much of a threat?
"I'd like you to go as an envoy to the Black Sword bandit group. Ah, not as the actual envoy, but as an escort."
A combination of words even less fitting than 'envoy and mercenary' came out. Envoy and bandit. And escort. But why were the Battalion Commander's eyes sparkling so much it was burdensome? A certain expectation, something like that, filled them. His eyes shone as if they held stars. Enkrid found it extremely strange.