Chapter 141: Rem's Dash
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 141: Rem's Dash
"We have to advance the camp. We can't just leave things as they are. We need to seize the thicket and strike their rear!"
"What nonsense! If we push forward like that, how are we supposed to retreat? Do you have any idea how many rear-guard forces Azpen has?"
"Then are you saying we should just let that guerrilla unit run wild?"
"Our morale is plummeting precisely because we're letting them!"
It was a strategy meeting. The company commanders and their adjutants were gathered around a central table, their voices raised in a heated clamor.
Graham, the 1st Company Commander, was firmly in favor of pushing forward.
Palto raised a different concern. Since Rayon, the 3rd Company Commander, had been killed by an elven assassin in the previous battle, his seat was vacant. The 1st Platoon Leader of the 3rd Company had stepped up to fill the void for now, but he remained silent, seemingly having nothing to contribute.
The rest of the space was occupied by Marcus's adjutants. They offered necessary opinions, confirmed details, and cross-verified reports. Watching this, the Elf Company Commander felt the entire proceeding was a waste of time.
The problem was clear.
‘The other side has someone who knows how to use their head.’
And this side didn't.
Battalion Commander Marcus’s nickname was "Warmonger." Contrary to the moniker, he wasn't stupid. One could tell just by his treatment of Encrid; he knew how to elevate his subordinates, manage morale, and ride the momentum of a battle. Compared to the former battalion commander, the man was practically an archangel.
However, Marcus was still not a commander who relied on intellect. When he rode the flow of battle to turn the tide, what kind of tricks did he use? Brilliant strategy? No. He either stepped up personally or deployed overwhelming martial force.
The previous battle had made that abundantly clear. In the end, what were the "swords" Marcus had drawn?
He had drawn two. One was the 1st Company, the heavy armor unit. The other was his direct unit, the Border Guard. This meant Marcus was a commander who prioritized raw power in his tactics.
On the other hand, the enemy...
‘No matter how you look at it, they’re the ones playing the mental game.’
The Elf Company Commander had lived a long life, and her experience was correspondingly vast. In a situation like this, a clumsy reaction from their forces was highly likely to lead them straight into a trap.
What if this was a provocation to lure them deeper? What if the main force advanced, only to find an ambush waiting for them? Even if they wanted to gather intelligence, they were currently in the enemy's front yard.
Should they deploy scouts deep into enemy territory? Judging by the movements of the enemy's guerrilla unit, it would just turn into a game of cat-and-mouse along the mountain ridges.
Ignore them and strike the enemy's rear? That wasn't a bad idea either. Moving west would lead to Cross Guard. Moving northeast would lead to the enemy's main force.
Their allies had lost their sense of direction, unsure of which way to turn. If they couldn't find their bearings, holding their ground was indeed the safest option. In truth, the mere presence of this unit posed a threat to the enemy's entire main force. They could simply ignore the enemy's petty tricks.
Thud.
Marcus slammed his fist down on the table where the strategic map was spread. A few markers and pins toppled over.
"To put it simply, we can neither advance nor retreat, can we? Tell me what we can do!"
He was utterly frustrated. Normally, the main force should have crushed the enemy and withdrawn long ago, but the battle was dragging on. In the midst of this, the enemy's guerrilla unit kept poking and prodding at them. It was incredibly annoying. He wanted to devise a plan to catch them, but everyone was just spouting nonsense.
Ultimately, the strategy meeting ended without progress. There were no useful opinions.
It was around the time the Elf Company Commander left the meeting and approached her own tent that someone blocked her path.
Step.
A platoon leader, unusually armed with a sword on each hip, stood before her. He pressed down on his sword hilt with his left hand and bowed his head. After offering a formal military salute, Platoon Leader Encrid spoke.
"I would like to present a tactical opinion and request temporary operational command."
Staring blankly at Encrid, the elf thought to herself that the man had a rather handsome face, even as her expression questioned what kind of opinion he could possibly have. In her eyes, Encrid wasn't exactly the type to devise complex strategies either. He was the type to fight with blunt honesty.
"If you're here to propose marriage, your timing is terrible, Platoon Leader," the elf joked in her own way.
Perhaps accustomed to her humor by now, Encrid replied calmly.
"This is regarding military strategy."
Could she dismiss the opinion of a mere platoon leader? No, she couldn't. Regardless of her personal favor toward him, Encrid was proving his worth on every battlefield.
"Speak."
Since it wasn't his own idea, Encrid spoke as concisely as possible.
"Give me temporary command to stir up the enemy lines."
"And?"
"I request the support of one soldier skilled in pathfinding."
"Is that all?"
"In addition, I suggest the main force begins clearing a path to the west."
The elf tilted her head. Encrid explained exactly what he had been told. Where was this unit currently stationed? How would their movements affect the enemy? What kind of result would that influence bring? It was a matter of observation and prediction.
"What if things don't go as expected?"
"Then we retreat."
They would retreat. No, this plan was focused on a retreat strategy from the very beginning. The Elf Company Commander was no fool; her mind spun rapidly the moment she heard the details.
‘It’s viable.’
In fact, it was more than just viable. It might actually be the best option in their current situation. The individual components were simple, but what would happen if they overlapped? If they had just a bit of luck... and if Encrid personally moved with his platoon...
"Did you come up with this, Platoon Leader?" she asked.
"No." Encrid shook his head. He had no intention of stealing credit from his own subordinate. "It was the idea of a member named Krais."
For Krais, it had been an opinion thrown out simply because he didn't want to court danger. He had a casual mindset: if it worked, great; if not, surely command would have some other plan. However, by some chance, it had become the most necessary opinion of the moment.
"Very well."
Leaving only those words, the Elf Company Commander turned and swept away. Her steps were directed back toward the Battalion Commander's tent.
Shortly after, the movements of the camp changed. They began vacating the area and preparing for a march. Meanwhile, Encrid had fully armed his platoon and was addressing them. They weren't the type of group that needed a grand speech to go on a mission.
"Rem."
"Speak up."
"Shall we go catch that archer?" Encrid asked plainly.
Rem's eyebrow twitched—a sign of satisfaction. "Sounds good."
The smile Rem wore seemed to reek of blood.
"We're just going to loosen up our bodies. Does anyone want to stay behind?"
Encrid made eye contact with Ragna, Audin, Sachsen, Andrew, and Mac, one by one. If anyone wanted to sit this one out, he would have let them. But no one moved.
On top of that...
"This is Finn. She’s joining our platoon starting today."
"Nice to meet you," Finn said.
Finn had joined them as well. When Encrid had asked for support, they had sent him a ranger who used to lead a light infantry archer unit. Since that archer unit had returned to the 2nd Company as planned, Finn's position had become somewhat awkward. By a twist of fate, she had joined the platoon with the rank of squad leader.
It was a strange situation. Even though they were called an Independent Platoon, they numbered fewer than ten, yet they now had two squad leaders. It was a roster absurd enough to make a monster’s heart burst, but what could they do? The Mad Independent Platoon was that kind of place.
Finn had transferred solely because of Encrid. He was a man she wanted to watch from up close, even if it meant a demotion to squad leader. She also harbored the goal of spending a night with him if the opportunity arose. She had her motives.
And there was someone else she wanted to meet.
"I'm Finn. I don't plan on throwing my weight around just because I'm a squad leader, so let's just get along. So, you must be Audin?"
Finn was as straightforward as a spear. She said what she wanted and acted as she pleased. She immediately revealed one of her goals.
Audin, the man who had taught Encrid Valaf-style Martial Arts. Licking her lips, Finn stared intently at him. Just looking at his physique made her covet him.
‘Enki is one thing, but... this guy looks good, too. Is he all show, or does he have substance?’
She had already verified Encrid's "substance" during their first encounter by the stream. She would never forget it—especially what lay beneath his abs.
"Mmh." Finn brushed the thoughts aside. Now was not the time.
"Yes, sister. I received the name Audin from the Lord."
The two shook hands. Rem, Ragna, and Sachsen pretended not to notice. Andrew approached and mentioned they were fellow squad leaders. Mac only gave a nod.
The group was assembled.
"Then, shall we start with the mission briefing?" Encrid spoke, looking at Krais.
His eyes said, Isn't it your turn now?
Receiving that look, Krais cleared his throat and stepped forward.
"Uh, since the enemy guerrilla unit is acting up, we're going to do something similar."
Krais knew that if he explained it in a complicated way, no one would understand. He kept it simple. The gist was this: the enemy was using the terrain to shake their allies. Why couldn't they do the same? Although some of the Border Guard had tried, it hadn't left a strong enough impression on the enemy.
So, what should they do? They just had to make sure the enemy would never forget them.
"Shall we go, then?"
Perhaps finding Krais's voice lacking in energy, Rem chuckled.
"That's no way to head into battle! We're going to wipe them clean!" Rem shouted, his voice rising at the end.
Of course, only Encrid responded. "Sounds good."
Everyone else ignored him. Sachsen had already started walking the moment Rem opened his mouth.
"Aren't we going?" he asked Finn.
Finn wondered about the hostile vibe flowing between the members, but she did her job. She had been warned beforehand.
"It's not a normal unit. Are you fine with that?" the Elf Company Commander had asked.
Finn had nodded. Since her goals were Encrid and Audin anyway, she just had to get along reasonably well with the others.
Thus, Encrid's platoon set out.
Finn found the path. If they chased the enemy's tracks, they would only end up going in circles. Instead, they chose a target: not the guerrilla unit, but the enemy's main force. Finding them was child's play for her.
"Phew, if there's a knight, won't we be in deep trouble?" Andrew asked.
Krais, who possessed the most pathetic combat ability in the unit, answered him as they trudged along, completely ignoring the tracks they were leaving behind.
"There probably won't be."
"How can you be so sure?"
"If there is, we can just test the waters and run. Besides, if they had the luxury to deploy knights to the rear, they wouldn't be running a guerrilla unit in the first place. In my opinion, that guerrilla unit is just a distraction. As for why..."
"That's enough."
Andrew had seen how Krais's explanations dragged on. Since he wouldn't understand half of it anyway, what was the point?
Krais was slightly dissatisfied. Why did it seem like no one wanted to listen? At least the platoon leader listened carefully, showing a sincere attitude. That was satisfying.
In truth, Krais was also slightly anxious. Trotting over to stick close to Encrid’s side, he spoke again.
"Captain, I believe that guerrilla unit is a distraction. Why are they trying to distract us? It's simple. They’re saying: 'Don't move. Stay still. If you enter our rear, we've set a trap.' It's something like that. So, we just need to move in a way the enemy doesn't expect."
Krais's strategic rambling continued.
Encrid listened and asked, "Why are you telling me this again?"
He had already heard it. This was the third time.
"Uh, well, I just wanted to say it. For no reason... well, never mind."
Was he anxious?
"Does babbling make the anxiety go away?"
"Well, you wouldn't understand, Platoon Leader."
Krais considered himself an ordinary person. A person like Encrid wouldn't understand. In his eyes, the platoon leader was abnormal. If you have no talent, it's normal to quit. A dream? How was chasing something like that normal? It wasn't even a realistic goal; it was a fantasy. Yet he chased it, repeating the same training every day, showing everyone what bone-carving discipline truly meant.
How was this normal?
Krais stopped talking. Looking at the platoon leader, it felt like they could somehow overcome whatever happened. His anxiety eased.
"This way."
Finn was a skilled ranger. Even though she wasn't familiar with this specific terrain, she found tracks easily. The enemy's guerrilla unit had played various tricks to avoid being tracked, and a few traps were visible. She had heard that some of the Border Guard had clashed with them while chasing them with bloodshot eyes.
The Mad Independent Platoon didn't even bother looking for the guerrilla unit's tracks. They went straight ahead, toward the enemy's rear.
After passing through thickets and mountain ridges, the enemy's rear-guard unit finally came into view.
"I'm going first. If anyone gets ahead of me, I'll crack your skull, so stay out of my way," Rem growled.
They let him. No one else was interested in taking the vanguard anyway.
Krais examined the enemy's formation. From the tall grass field to here, the enemy was positioned across a wide expanse. This would be the enemy's right rear. They had spent over half a day traversing the ridges to get here.
"Anyone at the knight level?" Encrid asked.
Sachsen, who had sharp eyes, scanned the area. "I don't see anyone particularly dangerous."
Then it was time to begin.
Rem lightly bounded down the mountain ridge, and Encrid followed. As they kicked off down the slope, a cloud of dust rose. Mac, Andrew, Finn, Audin, and Sachsen stayed behind to protect Krais and prepare for unforeseen circumstances.
Only Rem, Encrid, and Ragna descended.
"I'll be watching," Ragna said, sticking close to Encrid.
He wanted to see what Encrid had learned while carrying two swords. He was going to verify the lessons he had taught.
‘Is this a test?’
For Encrid, it was also an experiment. The Two-Sword Style—just how effective would it be?
"What's that?" an enemy sentry asked as he spotted the three approaching.
They were kicking up dust on the gentle slope, and there was no cover nearby. They had stepped onto the fertile plains—the land that would soon belong to the victor.
Rem waved his hand as he approached. His stride looked like that of someone greeting a long-lost friend.
"Hey there!"
At his casual demeanor, the enemy soldier tilted his head in confusion. Are they enemies? Or not?
The distance closed. Just as the sentry was about to tell them to stop, the hand axe at Rem's waist flew.
His hand was a flash of light. The throwing axe spun through the air, leaving a long, lethal arc in its wake.
Thud.
A new, grisly ornament appeared on the enemy sentry's head. It was a decoration that brought his life to an instant end. With the axe embedded in his skull, the sentry's feet left the ground. He flailed his arms before crashing backward.
The other sentry hastily put a whistle to his lips, but Rem was faster. He charged with the explosive power of his springy thigh muscles.
Encrid knew Rem was skilled, but even he was surprised. It was the same explosive dash shown by the knight they had faced before. It was a charge similar to what Encrid himself had shown right before becoming an Associate Knight.
‘Rem...’
The man still had hidden depths.
Closing the distance, Rem grabbed the second sentry's wrist and twisted.
Crack.
"Ack—"
Then, the axe in Rem's left hand sliced horizontally.
Thwack.
The enemy soldier collapsed, his neck half-severed. Blood gurgled from the wound, soaking the ground.
"Damn, they're weak as hell," Rem muttered, standing between the two corpses.