Chapter 200 - A Wise Response
Enkrid also looked up and registered the opponent. In that brief moment.
"Kill them all!" shouted the man who appeared to be the leader of the gift package. He was a man with narrow, slanted eyes.
The moment he shouted to kill them all, the leader turned and fled as if his life depended on it. Enkrid, annoyed, gave chase.
"The rest of you handle it," he tossed out the words and then dashed forward. By activating Heart of the Beast, he could imitate the dash a quasi-knight had shown. And as he had seen just a moment ago, if he added precision to it, it seemed he could run longer and faster.
He executed with his body what he had thought in his head. The process was different from before. At first, it was clumsy, but it quickly stuck to his body. He couldn't say he was used to it, but he couldn't say it was awkward either.
Enkrid chased after the fleeing man. Catching up to him was, of course, an easy task. The man was crashing through bushes, trees, and thorn thickets. When he was caught, he resisted. He was a man who handled an arming sword with remarkable skill. A swordsmanship centered on flair. If one had to categorize it, it would be of the Circular Sword school among the Five Principles, but…
'It's worse than the Valen-style Mercenary Swordsmanship.'
He mixed in various tricks and used a thrust as his finishing blow. If that was the case, a double-draw strike would be better. In terms of technique, he felt that the beastkin Dunbakel was better. That didn't mean his skill was lacking. Dunbakel was crude, her techniques lacked form and meaning, and she relied on clever tricks and power. In contrast, this opponent, perhaps from diligent training, showed no hesitation in his sword swings.
But that didn't mean he was a match for Enkrid.
Ting, Thwack, Gack!
Before the incoming sword could pull any tricks, he approached and struck it down with a swing of his own. He had already seen the technique, so there was no need to see it twice. The man's blade was caught on his own, which was swung diagonally upwards, and his chest was exposed. Immediately, Enkrid rammed his shoulder into the man's solar plexus, and the sound of air being forced out of his mouth was heard.
Even in that moment, the man's eyes gleamed. He gripped a knife at his waist. Enkrid, as he rammed him with his shoulder, drew his guard sword and thrust it at the man's chin. Several movements in a single breath—an imitation of the skill Ragna had shown.
As he stopped, the man let out a groan and a breath. His hand had stopped on the knife, leaving his left arm in a strangely twisted position.
"Who are you?"
There was no answer. He pushed the blade forward, and a drop of blood formed below his Adam's apple. Feeling no need to control his strength, he pushed a little more as if by mistake, and blood trickled down.
"From the… from the Black Sword bandit group's main force!" the man said hastily.
"The main force? What for?"
"A patrol!"
A lie. His sixth sense told him so. Enkrid didn't narrow his eyes, nor did he glare at his opponent.
"Just in case, I'm asking, but you don't have any intention of speaking honestly, do you?"
"...What?"
I guess not.
Enkrid slit his throat with a shhhk of his guard sword. A new mouth had been created below his Adam's apple, so the opponent's death was a given. He had no time or leisure for an interrogation. And even if he did, there probably wouldn't be any great information. The situation was already clear, so what did the Black Sword's main force matter?
Dodging the gush of blood, he pushed the man away and turned back. After killing him and returning, the situation was clear. They had fought, and they had won. At the end of a victory, it was natural for corpses to be scattered about. Bodies were strewn everywhere. Three had survived. They were put to one side.
Enkrid then thoroughly looted the dead bandits. Rem and Ragna did the same. If there was anything to be gained, leaving it here would be a waste. And so, they collected a device that shot arrows from the wrist, poison sand, half-eaten bread, a few silver and copper coins, and various small blades.
The weapons the men held could all be turned into krona. However, he didn't think he had enough hands to carry them all. Shoving everything into one backpack and carrying it would make for an arduous journey back. The weight would be considerable, and it wouldn't all fit.
"You carry it."
"You want to die?"
He could hear Ragna and Rem arguing as they assessed the situation.
"Enough."
After stopping the two, he looked at the three bandits he had intentionally left alive. He asked one of them, "So, your main force was wiped out?"
Of the three bandits, one was crying, knowing nothing. The other two had their eyes darting around, showing they were quick-witted. Three mouths. Plenty to speak.
"Yes, my lord. It's all over. When we looked back, it was burning brightly. It seemed they had set a fire."
He spoke while sweating profusely. The weather was moderately humid, and it looked like it would rain today or tomorrow.
'It probably won't spread into a big fire.'
He hadn't expected them to launch a full-scale raid, but he knew whose blades they were. The Border Guard. They wouldn't be so clumsy as to make a mess by using fire.
"And you?"
"The man from the main force said we'd be doomed if we stayed, that some of us had to survive to tell the tale…"
His voice trailed off. It sounded like they had run without even fighting. Their weapons weren't even bloodied, and they were drenched in sweat; it was obvious. To guess one more thing, it seemed these were all who had survived. The few who had scattered into the forest would become a meal for a monster.
"You managed to get this far?"
"There's a shortcut!" the two quick-witted ones said in unison, without a breath.
The Black Sword bandit group was one that made their nest in the mountains, enduring monster attacks. If they went to the wilderness and rode horses, they would be mounted bandits, and if they went to the sea and boarded a ship, they would be pirates. But in reality, there was a more famous group on the sea, and in the vast plains of the east, a clumsy group of mounted bandits couldn't exist. In truth, the Black Sword could be called the largest bandit group in the inland. And if they had lived in this area for a long time, they would know the roads well in many ways.
"I know the roads like the back of my hand!" another bandit quickly interjected when Enkrid showed interest in the path. "That beastkin bitch doesn't know anything! That bitch is a stupid one who thinks she's still a mercenary…"
Leaving the useless rambling behind, Enkrid said, "Let's go to the city and talk."
These men would be handed over to the city. Then they would be executed, or locked up and flogged.
"Ah," one of the bandits let out a short groan. It was a sigh of knowing that his end would not be a comedy if he were dragged away.
"P-please," he pleaded.
Enkrid decided to show some mercy. "You want me to end it here?"
The bandit's eyes darted around like a madman. "No, sir."
After that, they finished looting the gear. Having no separate backpack, they tore and tied a few of the dead men's clothes and stuffed everything they had picked up, along with the weapons, inside.
Then came the time for digging.
"You dig too."
In the meantime, Ragna cut the rope on Dunbakel's wrists. The promise had been until here. He had said he would release her when the job was done. Enkrid didn't pay any more attention to the beastkin.
By the time the remaining three bandits had dug a hole and buried the bodies, the sun had set. Should we make camp? No, there's probably no need.
"Let's march through the night."
"Let's do that."
"Yes."
After Rem and Ragna's agreement, they set off on their return journey. They loaded their gear onto the carriage they had found on the way. However, there were no horses, so the three criminals pulled the carriage instead. It had reached a point where it should be called a man-cart rather than a horse-drawn carriage.
Rumble, rumble.
The three criminals pulling the cart along a rough road in the middle of the night panted for breath, and Dunbakel pushed from behind. Enkrid slowly began to think that the beastkin woman could leave. She didn't have the unique gloominess he felt from the other bandits. That attitude of purely craving life was, to be honest, quite impressive.
That didn't mean anything changed. He had decided to let her go, so he would. That was all. He paid no more attention to the beastkin named Dunbakel than that. There were more pressing matters. He had something to ask Marcus when he returned to the unit.
The journey back to the city took twice as long as the journey out. The horses were gone, and their luggage had increased.
When they stood before the city gate.
"Who goes there!" a soldier on the gallery shouted. It wasn't just a shout; three archers with arrows nocked could also be seen. They were several times more alert than usual.
"Company Commander Enkrid of the Independent Company."
When he announced his affiliation, a torch flickered above, and a voice was heard.
"Is that you?"
It was Vengence's voice. Soon, the postern gate next to the main gate opened. The carriage couldn't enter, and as they were taking everything out, Vengence came down.
"You, this, what is this? Did you rob some place? Did you commit a robbery?"
"Not a robbery, just a counterattack against a robbery."
The victor takes the spoils. It was common sense. Though the amount seemed a bit much for spoils of war, it wasn't wrong.
At Enkrid's words, Vengence tilted his head. This was not the time to explain everything one by one.
"Why so on edge?" Enkrid asked.
The time he had been away from the city was just a full day. It was almost dawn, so it had only been about a full day, yet a strange tension flowed within the city.
"You're going straight to the Battalion Commander, right? You'll hear the details inside."
Vengence didn't give a detailed explanation either. It was his way of saying that since Enkrid hadn't explained, he wouldn't either.
"Petty bastard."
Enkrid said with a smirk and went inside. After he entered, Rem and Ragna followed him. As they went in, Rem handed over the three bandits.
"Handle them," he said.
"What are these guys?"
"Black Sword bandit group."
Why is that name coming up here? As Vengence blinked, the white-haired beastkin followed behind Rem and Ragna. Is it okay to let that one go? Since there were no specific orders, it must be okay.
After sending off Enkrid's party, Vengence asked his subordinate in a careful and serious tone, "Am I petty?"
The subordinate swallowed hard. Honesty is a virtue, but sometimes a white lie is a greater virtue.
"No, sir. You are magnanimous—no, you are normal, Platoon Leader."
Still, he couldn't bring himself to say he was magnanimous. That was his last shred of conscience. In the first place, hadn't it been obvious that he was narrow-minded and petty when he was jealous of Company Commander Enkrid for being popular with women?
"Right? I'm not that petty, am I?"
The subordinate nodded. It was a wise response.
In front of the Battalion Commander, Enkrid threw the question he had held in his chest.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
It wouldn't have been a problem even if he knew. Wouldn't a more active response have been possible? It was a question thrown with such thoughts.
Marcus's eyes widened. A look that said, how could you not know? Then, he opened his mouth.
"Company Commander Enkrid, you can't act, can you?"
Had he been watching Enkrid's acting all this time? No, that couldn't be it. He must have said it based on his usual tone and attitude, but upon hearing those words, Enkrid found himself inwardly admitting it.
'To deceive the enemy, you must first deceive your allies.'
It was a basic strategy.
"What would you have done if I were in danger?"
"Didn't you say you were taking Rem and Ragna?"
A short silence fell. Right, it wouldn't have been that dangerous.
"Why is the atmosphere in the city like this?"
Enkrid smoothly changed the subject, and the elf company commander, who had taken a seat at some point, answered.
"The reconnaissance team twice, a group that appeared to be spies attempted to cross the wall four times, and there were three attempts to pass through the gate in disguise."
It wasn't something that had happened in a single day. She was summarizing the events that had occurred over time.
"Who?"
"Do I have to tell you for you to know?"
At the elf company commander's question, Enkrid stopped playing the fool and answered, "Martai."
Marcus was the one who reacted to the answer.
"Right. Martai has declared war."
Was it perfect timing? No, it was more likely that they had struck first before it was too late, at a moment they had been waiting for. In a single day, the biggest incident had broken out in the city. It was war again. This time, it wasn't a war with another country, but a war between cities. A fight between Martai and the Border Guard.
In this situation, even if the central government had the capacity to send reinforcements, they couldn't. A pretext could be fabricated, and it wasn't as if only idiots were gathered in Martai, so they must have already sent a plausible pretext.
"They sent a forged document saying that the Border Guard has been Martai's territory since the time of our predecessors," Marcus said with a laugh. It was a laugh mixed with annoyance at the absurdity of the opponent's pretext.
"So we sent them the same thing."
The elf company commander said they had paid them back in kind. They had also forged a document saying that Martai was their territory and sent it. You could call it a war of forged public documents.
With the thought that it was a wise response, he was about to wonder why they were telling him all this in such detail when…
"I'll be looking forward to your performance on the battlefield," Marcus said. The expectation in his eyes was beyond seriousness; it was as if he were looking at an idol, so Enkrid didn't find his gaze particularly unpleasant.
"Let's have some fun," the elf company commander said, adding her usual elven joke. "Shall we call it the Honeymoon War?"
"Is the Battalion Commander getting married again?"
Enkrid didn't lose and countered with a human-style retort, and Marcus laughed heartily. The man who hid a strategist behind the nickname of a warmonger. That man showed no fear of the coming war. It meant he had something he believed in. He was a little curious as to what that was.
After finishing the report of all that had happened, he was about to enter his barracks when…
"You're not leaving?"
Dunbakel, who had been following him, stopped. She stood blankly in front of the barracks. But did no one stop her? With war just around the corner, the discipline was a mess. Enkrid thought as he looked at Dunbakel.
Dunbakel made her decision and opened her mouth. It was the low, husky voice unique to a beastkin, but it was a voice that anyone could tell was a woman's.
"I have something to say."