Chapter 204 - Thwack-thwack, Sometimes Thud-thud (1)
"That bastard?"
Separate from the cheers of the Naurillian army, several of Martai's commanders felt a surge of anger.
"He's asking for it! Kill that bastard!"
We get that he's a good fighter, but to show that kind of composure while running away? This looked like a deliberate provocation. It was as if he were mimicking an epic hero just to mock them. How could they not be enraged?
"After them!" "Don't let them in!" "Destroy them!" "Stop! Stop, you son of a bitch!"
The incensed Martai infantry charged. It was just as Enkrid and his party had diligently run and entered the city gate.
Th-th-th-thump!
The hands of the Naurillian archers atop the watchtowers became very busy.
"Gaaah!" "Arrows! Shields! Raise your shields!"
The charging Martai infantry retreated, decorated with arrows.
"Fire! Fire! Hit them all!" Vengence's shout echoed loudly. It was thanks to him being given command of a portion of the archers.
As the Martai infantry retreated…
"Waaaaaah!"
…the Border Guard standing army on the walls let out a cheer, as if they had won something like a victory in the first, unexpected exchange of blows.
"Bring it on!" "Run if you want to live!" "My name is Lian!"
A series of taunts aimed at the enemy followed. Amidst them, there was even a man who announced his own name. It couldn't be called a valuable victory, but it felt like a battle they were winning before it had even properly begun. The enemy's forces were still more numerous, and the difference was clear, but somehow, it didn't feel like they would lose. Most of the soldiers felt that.
The one who had created this atmosphere was, of course, Enkrid. So it was only natural that all eyes were fixed on Enkrid as he entered, seemingly nonchalant.
The destruction of the mangonels, the exploits of a few enemy soldiers. This news also reached the commander of the troops without emblems. In truth, it had happened right before his eyes, so it could be said he had just received a detailed report.
He wore a roughly pressed-on helmet. The commander's eyes, visible through the visor as he twisted his mustache, shone coldly.
"So there's an interesting bastard."
A chilling killing intent was laced in his tone. His nickname was the Elite-Hunter. He had thought this would be an uninteresting and unfun fight, but he saw men who made his heart pound.
'At least three of them.'
They were men worthy of being killed by his own hand. Methods and means to kill them rose in his mind.
'It would be good if a chaotic melee broke out.'
What if they hide and defend? Then it would be more advantageous to surround and pressure them, right? It was an endlessly interesting situation.
The mangonels? The raid? The damage from the ambush? That had nothing to do with him. That was the thought of the mustached Elite-Hunter, but the actual commander leading the troops without emblems had a slightly different idea.
"That damn bastard."
The commander of Viscount Ventra's forces was not stupid. He might be narrow-minded, but he had a head on his shoulders.
'He stopped in the middle of running away to announce his name?'
It was not ordinary courage. He had made them feel like they were being pushed from the start by destroying eight mangonels, and then he had announced his name and retreated. He focused only on the facts.
Why? Why did he do that?
The commander soon came to a conclusion. It was the most rational judgment based on experience and theory.
'This bastard?'
It was a pathetic trick. A strategy. What methods would those who were on the defensive choose? It was one of them. Puffing up his own importance. It was a dirty trick. A strategy to make the enemy overthink by exaggerating his own skills. It was one of the tactics used because a small elite could change the tide of a battlefield. It was a warning to be prepared when they charged, because there were a few strong individuals.
Is he really that skilled? Breaking the mangonels was impressive, but…
'That's all.'
He must have overexerted himself. No, he did. It was definitely an operation he had carried out by risking his life. He must have been waiting in ambush for days before they arrived, and he must have consumed a lot of resources for this one time. It must have been a plan planted from the time Martai began its march.
"I see it as him puffing up his feathers," the commander of Viscount Ventra's forces said, having organized his thoughts.
The commander-in-chief of Martai was lost in thought. After a moment, he too nodded. The same conclusion.
"Have them bring more siege weapons," the General said. They should be making a few more in the city anyway. A hastily made weapon would be better than nothing. "And fix what can be fixed."
If they did repairs, they could salvage one or two. The ones with bent and broken central axes couldn't be helped.
'That monster bastard.'
The man who had broken a siege weapon with his fist. That one was on his mind.
'He must have taken some kind of drug.'
If he took the drugs made by those alchemists to catch Giants and Frogs, such a feat would be possible. A drug that allows one to exert strength beyond their limits for a short time. Of course, the side effects were severe, to the point where you could die as soon as the effect wore off if you used it incorrectly.
Narrow-mindedness, prejudice, preconceived notions—these things, once lodged in the mind, were like demons that could not be easily removed. That was how these men were. The Elite-Hunter also rated his opponent's skills highly, but only to a degree that he thought would be good to kill. The misunderstanding was each their own.
"We just need to surround them and dry them out," the commander of Viscount Ventra's forces said, clenching his fist.
Since he had puffed himself up and exaggerated, he would now focus his strength on defense. And if he still came out? He was also the commander of the cavalry. If the opponent opened the gate and came out from the harassment, he could just sweep them away with his cavalry. It was a simple but effective plan. It didn't matter if the opponent puffed himself up or not.
"Let's do that," the General of Martai thought the same.
Krais took in the enemy's movements from atop the city wall.
'They're angry.'
They were murmuring, shouting. Eight siege weapons were destroyed, and the number of dead was high, yet they showed anger, not fear. They didn't lose their fighting spirit or vigor. They spewed anger even after seeing Enkrid and his party.
How was that possible?
'The battle time was short.'
The moment of intense fighting was very short. Even if there was an impressive display of combat power, few people had actually seen it.
'And the commander's tone at the end was quite something.'
On top of that, stopping in the middle of running away, announcing his name, and telling them to get lost was effective. Would they have come this far if they were the type to get lost just from that? If it was intentional, it was a perfectly appropriate provocation. A provocation that was just enough for the enemy to misunderstand.
'If it were me.'
Krais briefly possessed the enemy commander. He murmured 'if it were me' several times and observed the enemy's movements. From the top of the wall, he could see the enemy troops moving. They were flustered, but they had no intention of retreating. They were flustered, but there was no fear within them. They were a force that was reforming. The sight of them retreating after chasing them at the end also remained in his memory. They were orderly. It meant they were well-trained regular soldiers. The enemy's fighting spirit was still there.
'They're underestimating us.'
It was a confidence born from underestimating their own forces. The reason for their confidence? There were many. They were numerous, well-trained, and had received more than enough reinforcements. And on top of that, the story that had spread despite Battalion Commander Marcus deliberately hiding it—Enkrid's skill.
'Will they see it as a bluff? Will it look like he's puffing up his feathers because he's scared?'
That might be it. It wasn't completely certain, but it seemed likely. It would have been nice if the Gilpin Guild was a little bigger and he knew the enemy commander's name or tendencies, but… no, at that point, they would have to become a full-fledged information guild.
'The work would increase tenfold.'
Now was just right. A level where he could earn a moderate amount of krona was the best.
Krais organized his thoughts. The enemy commander had not grasped their own forces' strength, and their own forces had a very sharp blade.
'It would be nice if they were idiots.'
Not just doubt, but confirmation bias—men who have no intention of changing what they once believe to be right. If so, there would be no need for a grand strategy. This was all the magic that Enkrid's one whim had wrought. It was thanks to him stepping out, breaking the mangonels, and returning. If he had fought more there and shown his strength, the story would have been different.
'But did the commander intend all of this?'
Well, he could just ask him.
"What are you doing?" Vengence, who was commanding the archers, asked.
Seeing that bastard Krais muttering to himself, it was as if he were possessed by some evil spirit. Vengence hated ghosts and evil spirits. They were the cause of his sleepless nights.
"Just organizing my thoughts."
"Is that so?" Vengence wondered what would change just because this guy organized his thoughts. But in Krais's mind, the future of the battlefield was being drawn. A scenario for victory was unraveling in his head. Still, he had no intention of speaking. Krais thought that everyone would handle it on their own.
"Are you okay?" Rem asked on the way into the Border Guard.
Enkrid looked himself over. Was he injured anywhere? He wasn't. It wasn't something he could have been injured from. It was a light warm-up. And why not? It was an impromptu plan, but he had done it because it seemed fine. Of course, the Martai side thought it was an ambush they had prepared for days with invested resources, but in reality, it was not at all. He had just gone out for a bit of a warm-up because it seemed doable.
"I think you've hurt your head," Rem said with a serious face. There was no trace of a smile. Ragna's gaze, who was next to him, also turned to Enkrid, and it was the same for Rem and Audin.
"Do you have a fever?" Finn asked last.
Enkrid was sad that these people had no romance in them. He knew well why they were reacting this way. It was because he had announced his name at the end.
"It was a surge of bravado."
There was nothing to hide, so he said it bluntly. Rem, instead of teasing him as he usually would, pursed his lips and let out an exclamation of 'Hoo.'
"Uwooooooah!"
Something like a cheer was heard from above the heads of the returning Enkrid and his unit. They had gone out and wrecked the siege weapons, so such a reaction was to be expected.
Amidst that cheer, "Bravado," Ragna muttered, and he seemed to be lost in thought.
Enkrid had literally just acted on a whim.
In front of them, Krais, who had come down from the gallery, was visible.
"The provocation and planting a demon in the opponent's head was intentional… or not. Ah, no. Then why did you say your name?"
Many people were asking just because he had announced his name once. Enkrid spat out the same words again. "Bravado. It just felt like I could."
"That's a bit… Hmm, yes. I see. That was cool."
Passing Krais, he could see a group of allied commanders.
"You broke all the siege weapons?" Marcus said. Was it a trick of the light that a smirk was playing on his face?
Enkrid nodded stoically.
"Good!"
That was the end of it.
"My name is Shinar. If you come to me now, you can have me," the elf company commander whispered as she sidled up to him.
An elven joke. Did she really never get tired of it?
"Did you hurt your head?"
"No, I'm the picture of health. Are you perhaps into frail, beautiful girls?"
Was there any meaning in talking further? Enkrid shook his head and stepped back.
"Do not let down your guard!" Marcus encouraged his allies from the front. "We will win!"
The timing was perfect. It was just after Enkrid, the hero of the cheers, had returned. A roar erupted. The war had just begun, but morale was higher than ever.
This was the first day of the battle. And immediately after the next day began…
"You're going out again today, right?" Krais approached and asked. Enkrid had just finished his morning training. Training even in a situation like this. Some of those who saw it shook their heads. Those who knew Enkrid well just thought, that's him.
"Where?"
"Outside."
"Why?"
Krais blinked.
"You have to provoke them again today."
Wondering what he was talking about, he looked at him.
"Did the Battalion Commander not say anything?" Krais asked back. Enkrid nodded. He had only said to rest well and fight well again. He did say to tell him anytime if he needed anything. He had said nothing about him going out on his own and carrying out an ambush. The result of the impromptu operation was good, and he had given him such authority in the first place, so it was right for Marcus to have nothing to say.
"Act in the opposite way of what the opponent thinks and intends," Krais recited loudly and clearly. Enkrid stared at his big-eyed subordinate who had raised his voice.
"It's the basis of strategy and tactics."
So? he asked with his eyes. Krais spoke again.
The siege weapons were broken. They would be thinking of a long-term battle. Repairing and resupplying the weapons, and just surrounding and threatening the Border Guard would be advantageous for Martai. Because they had made their supply lines in the rear solid. So, what was the task for today?
To Krais, it was so obvious, but he was flustered that no one had said anything.
"We have to harass their supply lines."
The basis of strategy and tactics. Starve them. He might not be able to actually starve them, but he could at least make them worry while they were filling their bellies. It's easy to say, but difficult to execute. The opponent would naturally be on guard unless they were fools. But here, there was the Madmen Company, including Enkrid.
"An off-the-books force is one that plays outside the opponent's expectations."
They were less than ten in number. It meant they could strike out like this.
"Nyaa."
Esther, who had been missing all night, cried out from the side and stared at Enkrid.
Enkrid, who had heard all of Krais's words, nodded. It didn't seem bad. His intuition was good, so he judged it was worth a try.
"Want to come with?" he asked Esther. Esther, who had been lying down, got up with a thump and came to his side.
And so, the next operation was decided. On the first day, the weapons; on the second day, the supply lines. Naturally, they decided to go at night.
"Krais, go report to the higher-ups. Tell them we're going on a night stroll."
It was just after the sun had set. Enkrid was gathering his equipment. Rem, Ragna, Audin, and Finn also stepped forward, but…
"Audin, you."
"Yes, brother. I'll stay."
Audin's build was too conspicuous. He also left Finn. He told Ragna to stay behind as well. Finn could be a risk, and Ragna could get lost. He couldn't let him get the nickname of a battlefield MIA.
"Rem, Jaxen."
"Good. Fine. We don't need the wildcat, but well, we can just tell her to carry the luggage."
"It would be better to leave the foolish savage behind."
They were still bickering, but when they went out to the battlefield together, there were none more reliable.
"I'll be back."
Enkrid went out as if he were just going to the market to buy some bread. And when he returned, he really did bring back bread.
"This is delicious."
At the returned Enkrid's words, everyone marveled at the taste of the bread. It was truly delicious bread. It was, of course, an item brought back from the enemy's supply depot.