Chapter 201: What is He Relying On? (1)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 201: What is He Relying On? (1)
“Um... well... I want to serve under you.”
On a breezy summer evening, the white-haired beastman spoke tentatively in front of the lodging.
“Under me?”
At his question, Dunchabel carefully chose her words.
In truth, did the specifics even matter anymore?
“A slave, a servant—anything is fine. I will do whatever it takes, as long as you let me serve under you.”
If Frok was blinded by personal ambition, the beastmen were driven by a singular, primal instinct: reproduction. Thus, her words could easily be misunderstood.
“The continent is a vast place,” Encrid replied indirectly, signaling that he wouldn't stop her if she chose to leave.
“Please, just let me serve under you.”
Dunchabel knelt. Her unkempt, greasy hair and the crown of her head came into view, accompanied by a foul stench. Watching her, Encrid’s first thought was simply that he wanted to wash up and rest.
So, what should he do with her?
Actually, it wasn't something to agonize over. If she joined with the intention of stabbing him in the back... Would that even be possible?
Before she could even try, she’d likely have her throat slit by Sachsen. At least, that was the feeling he got. In reality, even if it wasn't Sachsen, Rem or any of the others would instantly strike Dunchabel dead at the slightest hint of treachery.
Fortunately, no such malice was visible. Saving her had been a whim, nothing more. It had no deeper meaning. Therefore...
If there’s no malice...
Encrid recalled that a standard squad was supposed to have ten people. A platoon usually consisted of forty to fifty, and a company commander was responsible for one to two hundred men.
But my unit members are...
Rem, Ragna, Sachsen, Audin, Finn.
Six, including himself. What a massive crowd. It made him want to check if Marcus’s conscience was still intact.
If he’s going to make me a company commander, he should at least replenish the numbers.
Of course, only a few of them would likely survive. There was no way that bastard Rem would leave them be. For some reason, he thought of Andrew. Since that fellow’s departure, Finn was the only new recruit.
Conclusion: the company was severely short-handed, and Dunchabel possessed martial prowess far superior to an ordinary soldier. Judging by her current attitude, she was even obedient.
Obedient beastmen were rare.
Sifting through his tangled thoughts, one clear point stood out: a shortage of manpower. He could ask for the battalion commander’s permission later; if Marcus said no, he could just kick her out then.
“Fine.”
“I swear by Kriemhild. If I swear as an outcast, will you believe... Eh?”
“Come in. There are spare cots. But wash up first.”
To Dunchabel, it seemed like an incredibly cool, decisive choice. He hadn't shown even a hint of hesitation.
Did he intend to accept me from the beginning?
The thought crossed her mind, but she quickly dismissed it. No, that wasn't it. There had been moments where she could have died—moments where he could have rightfully killed her. Yet, he had spared her and let her go.
He was a man of his word.
“Joining the unit’s roster requires the commander’s permission. If he refuses, there’s nothing I can do.”
It’s done.
Hearing Encrid’s words, Dunchabel believed there was no way she would be rejected. If she were the commander and had someone like Encrid under her, she would nod in approval even if he brought along ten personal servants. Who would refuse him?
“And don’t even think about... 'serving' me at night, or whatever. I have zero interest. You’re joining as a soldier. If you want to serve under me, pick up a weapon and fight. If you die in battle, so be it.”
Encrid said only that much before opening the barracks door and stepping inside.
Dunchabel stood frozen, hesitating. She had wanted this, but taking the actual step required courage. She had yearned for this, but accepting that it was actually happening required even greater courage.
Was she really allowed to step inside? Someone like me?
She had fully expected to be rejected. That was why she faltered. As she hesitated, the closed door of the lodging swung wide open again.
“Aren’t you coming?”
Beyond the open door, black hair and blue eyes came into view. It felt odd to say of a man, but his face was beautiful. The moonlight, reflecting the resolute blue of his eyes, seemed to shatter against his cheeks.
Standing in front of a military barracks that possessed absolutely no romance, Dunchabel felt tears welling up. Why? Who knew the reason? It was simply because, until now, no one had ever welcomed her. Because he was the first person to bid her enter without any ulterior motives.
“I’m coming.”
Her voice trembled as she stepped inside.
They say opportunities come in life, and that everyone needs a turning point. Dunchabel believed meeting this man was exactly that. Even if others cast her out... she would endure it. Even if everyone shunned and cursed her... she would bear it.
“I’m asking because I’m genuinely curious.”
Upon entering, she saw a woman with orange hair. The woman was speaking to Encrid in rapid succession.
“You actually like that 'Demonic Charm' nickname, don’t you? Is that why you bring a woman back every time you go out?”
Hiss!
Right beside her, a panther hissed. Dunchabel flinched in surprise at the sound, but Rem spoke up from the side.
“It’s fine. This panther doesn’t usually bite. Ah, except for that Big-Eyes bastard. So as long as you don’t mess with it, it won’t bite.”
Why was there a panther in the barracks? Dunchabel found it strange but decided not to overthink it. Besides, the atmosphere wasn't as hostile as she had expected.
“Stop talking nonsense and go get her washed up. She stinks,” Encrid said, quickly beginning to pack his things.
He grabbed some thin linen clothes, seemingly intending to wash up himself. Meanwhile, the orange-haired woman approached.
“She doesn’t have any spare clothes, right? I wonder if they’ll give us some if we ask this late at night. Should I go ask using the captain’s name?”
“Do you think they’d give it to you just for that?”
“Of course they would!”
Finn spoke cheerfully and stepped out. It was late evening, shaping up to be a bright, moonlit night. Leading Dunchabel out, Finn asked, “What’s your name?”
“Dunchabel.”
“I’m Finn.”
She extended her hand for a handshake. To borrow an ancient saying, a handshake was a process of proving that neither party held a weapon and that they meant no harm. In the modern era, it was also a gesture of wanting to be friends.
As Dunchabel firmly grasped her hand, Finn smiled and said, “By the way, how long has it been since you last washed?”
“Um... half a year?”
Beastmen did not enjoy bathing.
“Let’s walk a bit apart then.”
Guided by Finn, Dunchabel entered the bathhouse and submerged herself in the tub without complaint. She watched the water turn black as Finn called out from outside that she was leaving some clothes.
Dunchabel scrubbed her body vigorously with soap. Encrid seemed to dislike foul odors.
After washing and changing, she returned to the lodging. The way back wasn't difficult. Perhaps because she hadn't washed in so long, her body felt incredibly light.
“...Is that what you actually look like?” Encrid asked as she entered.
“Why? Did something change?”
Dunchabel needlessly cast her gaze downward. Her top bulged slightly due to her ample chest, paired with wide-legged trousers. Did she look different because of the clothes?
“Never mind. That’s your spot over there. Go to sleep. And make sure to wear undergarments from now on.”
Why bother with such a hassle? Dunchabel thought, but she nodded anyway.
Encrid waved his hand dismissively and pointed to a corner. That was her spot.
Just like that, Dunchabel became a member of the independent company. No one brought up the fact that the beastman had been an enemy or a member of the Black Sword. Or rather, even if they did mention it, they didn't suspect or shun her.
Why? That was something even she didn't know.
*
The atmosphere within the unit was freezing cold, but Encrid remained unchanged.
He woke up, trained, and watched Finn get beaten up for a bit after practicing the Isolation Technique.
“So this is all the Eilkaraz-style Martial Arts amounts to, sister.”
Audin, the mouth from hell, was as consistent as ever. A vein bulged on Finn’s forehead.
After sweating profusely since morning, Encrid chugged water, then spread butter and orange marmalade over soft bread.
“Where did you say you got this?” Encrid asked, taking a bite. The marmalade tasted exquisite—sweet and refreshing.
Beside him, Krais chewed, swallowed his bread, and spoke.
“A shop opened right across from the seasoned jerky place. The owner is a twenty-six-year-old woman with dull brown hair and lots of freckles. Her name is Juri. She doesn’t have a boyfriend, and her ideal type is somewhere between Captain Encrid and Ragna. She absolutely detests my type, though.”
Encrid stared at him, wondering why he was sharing such uselessly detailed information.
“I know all the key figures in the territory. That’s the Gilpin Guild’s job, after all.”
Is that so? But is someone who’s just good at making marmalade really a key figure?
“She is important. You’ve tasted it, so you know.”
Fair enough.
As they ate, Krais began to chatter again. “Similar things will keep happening in the future.”
“Similar things?”
“I mean the surrounding forces won’t just leave the Border Guard alone.”
Encrid paused in the middle of standing up and looked at Krais. His large eyes briefly drifted toward Dunchabel. She was sitting blankly, staring into space.
I need to give her something to do, too.
Turning his gaze back to Krais, the latter continued.
“By blocking Azpen, the Kingdom expanded its territory. Thanks to that, the military territory of Border Guard can become not just a military hub where the standing army is stationed, but also the central trading hub of northern Naurilia. In fact, it’s currently becoming exactly that.”
Recently, the frequency of merchant caravans had increased, and new goods flowed in endlessly. The population of the territory was also growing.
“Juri said that when making marmalade, you have to make a large batch at once. But if it doesn’t all sell, storing it is difficult. Fortunately, as the foot traffic increased, the jam naturally sold well.”
That was the reason she opened the shop. Commercial viability is determined by population and traffic. This was common sense Encrid had acquired because Krais babbled about it whenever he was bored.
“So, how do you think the surrounding forces view the Border Guard?”
“They probably see it as a well-roasted barbecue or a perfectly ripe tomato.”
If they have a knife in hand and are ready to eat... all they have to do is slice into it.
That was the Border Guard’s current position. A location that looked like a golden-brown, perfectly roasted barbecue—so tempting that they’d want to plunge a blade into it even if it was a bit tough. To those who were starving, they would want to carve off the flesh immediately.
Things might improve once the pioneer village Encrid had saved grew and the trade routes expanded, but for now...
The hub of northern trade.
According to Krais, that was the Border Guard’s current standing.
“That’s why the jackals around us never stop circling.”
“Since when did you foresee this?”
“Well, I’ve had an uneasy feeling ever since we pushed back Azpen.”
If he knew since then... did Marcus know too? He had put on such a sly act about loving the territory as soon as he returned. The battalion commander knew of the territory’s crisis. In that case, he must also know how to escape it.
It was almost time for the meeting.
“I’m off.”
“Let’s protect the seasoned jerky and the marmalade, Captain,” Krais called out from behind. It didn't sound like crazy talk. To Encrid, those two foods were quite precious as well.
*
The battalion commander’s office had already been turned into a war room. A map was spread across a large table, with numerous chess-like pieces placed on top of it.
“Have we determined the enemy’s numbers?”
“We are sending out scouts every hour. Based on what we see, they are estimated to be at least two infantry battalions.”
“That’s a lot,” Marcus said with a bitter smile. He didn't look frightened.
He definitely had something to rely on. But was it appropriate to bring this up in such a situation? All the company commanders were gathered here. Encrid quietly stood beside Marcus.
“Do you have something to say?”
“My company has fewer than ten members.”
So what? Marcus’s eyes said it all. He was a shameless battalion commander. Shouldn't he fill the ranks before calling him a company commander?
“Can I add someone? The beastman we captured earlier.”
Her previous affiliation was the Black Sword Bandits. Right after slicing the throat of a bandit suspected of being a spy, Encrid was suddenly asking to spare another bandit and take her under his wing.
Come to think of it, he also needed to report on the noble bandit whose head he had cleanly severed.
“Go ahead.”
That’s it? Was it really that simple?
“Talk to the quartermaster about the roster and details.”
That was truly the end of it. Marcus turned his head away as if there was no need to discuss it further.
Wondering if the other company commanders would object, Encrid looked around, but none of them seemed to care. Only the elven company commander mouthed a silent question: Did you seduce another woman?
It was an elven joke. He ignored it.
He observed the meeting for a moment. What was the enemy’s formation? Where would they fight? What were their numbers and main units?
“Martai might deploy cavalry, but we don’t have any cavalry on our side.”
If they combined all the horses in the Border Guard stables, there would probably be around fifty. There were also a few horses kept ready for urgent messengers. But a cavalry unit was a different story. Excluding a few, they were all pack horses.
There was a saying that an untrained unit was a blade pointed at one’s own chest. Thus, there could be battlefields where they would have to face mounted soldiers without any cavalry of their own.
“The Border Guard Captain has just returned.”
In the middle of the ongoing military council, the Border Guard Captain entered. The subsequent reports were entirely expected: they had raided the main force of the Black Sword.
However, there was one unexpected piece of news mixed in.
The captain suddenly spoke. “You’ve worked hard. I heard that a detachment of the Black Sword Bandits ambushed Baronet Vansento beforehand. Because the baronet suddenly fled, you lost track of the target you were guarding. While losing the target cannot be counted as an achievement, you did well to steadfastly slaughter the Black Sword’s guerrilla unit and return alive.”
It was a theatrical tone. Hearing this, Marcus slammed his hand on the desk with a thud. With a clatter, several pins distinguishing friend from foe fell over, rolling across the map.
“To kill a noble! How dare they! Those Black Sword bastards!”
Marcus put on an excellent performance.
“That is why we immediately exacted retribution. If we hadn't followed them just in case, who knows what would have happened.”
The Border Guard Captain’s acting was a bit awkward. Encrid watched this without even a smile.
At the end of it, the Captain added, “Some of them attempted to flee and escaped. Please hand down my punishment.”
“Ah, don’t worry about that. We caught them.” Continuing the real story behind the play, Marcus pointed to his side—specifically, at Encrid. “He happened to run into them on his way back and captured them.”
That had indeed happened. A gift package had arrived. There had been some fool from the fleeing main force of the Black Sword.
“Is that true?”
The Border Guard Captain’s eyes shone with unprecedented warmth. Although they said losing the target wasn't an achievement, looking at the eyes of the battalion commander and the Border Guard Captain made it crystal clear: It’s a definite achievement.
And it was one recognized by both an influential battalion commander from the capital and the man who held the real power in the current Border Guard. The complexions of several nobles turned pale. They were quick-witted.
“Let us all observe a moment of silence for Baronet Vansento,” the battalion commander said.
He wanted Vansento to die as a noble, not as a spy for a bandit group. He mourned him, ensuring he remained a member of the Kingdom to the very end. That was for the best of everyone.
So, behave yourselves, understand?
It was as if he were delivering this message to the remaining nobles through the moment of silence. The quick-witted nobles would surely understand the underlying threat.
“Now, let us return to the meeting.”
The exhausted Border Guard Captain, with dust piled thick on his pauldrons, stood and joined the circle around the table. The meeting resumed once more.
Marcus’s strategy was full of gaping holes. Encrid had thought Marcus had something to rely on, but no such thing was visible; instead, it was overflowing with flaws.
Seriously, what is he relying on to act like this?
The question arose anew.