Chapter 202: What Gives Him Such Confidence? (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 202: What Gives Him Such Confidence? (2)
"Let’s slaughter every last one of them!"
The roar came from the 1st Company Commander, his voice like a prowling tiger. He had recently learned that a comrade who had served alongside him since enlistment had fallen in the Martai resistance war.
"We will," the Battalion Commander replied calmly before ordering a strictly defensive formation.
Their forces consisted of six infantry companies. Originally, they were a single battalion, but the unit stationed on the Greenpearl Plains had sent two companies as reinforcements. It was a significant sacrifice on their part; with those forces pulled from Greenpearl, there was no telling what Azpen might attempt.
"If they come through the south gate, we can hold the wall, but we won't be able to avoid a decisive battle on the plains," the 2nd Company Commander noted.
"What’s their cavalry count?"
"Fifty riders."
Fifty cavalry. To Encrid, that didn't sound like a small number at all. Warhorses were beasts that practically chewed through gold coins—not just to raise, but to maintain. They had to be outfitted with heavy iron barding, and the riders required specialized, rigorous training. Considering the sheer amount of Krona poured into them, cavalry on open ground were a terrifying force. With a single charge, fifty riders could easily trample and tear through hundreds of infantry.
The total strength of their six companies was roughly 1,200 men.
Fifty cavalry is a major variable, Encrid judged.
Even so, Marcus remained composed.
"They certainly managed to raise quite a force behind our backs," he remarked. Beyond mere composure, he actually sounded impressed. "The number of archers is also significant."
This was more unsettling news. To Encrid, it sounded as if the enemy had prepared with meticulous care.
"Urgent report!"
The final piece of the puzzle arrived with a scout who came bursting into the room. He rushed in, blood dripping from his left arm—a soldier who had barely escaped with his life after scouting deep into enemy territory.
Suppressing his pain, the soldier gasped out his report. "Forces with concealed crests have joined the enemy."
Originally, Martai's forces were already formidable: an infantry battalion, a portion of the cavalry, and even an archer company. Though the quality of their troops was slightly inferior to the Border Guard, their numerical advantage was clear. Even so, in the previous clashes between the Border Guard and Martai, the Border Guard had emerged victorious time and time again.
"This is bad."
The man who spoke was from the Border Guard, an elite unit composed entirely of veteran soldiers. Their martial prowess was undoubtedly exceptional, but one couldn't help but wonder if they could pull it off this time. They had received a succession of discouraging reports before the battle had even begun.
"Independent Company Commander."
Marcus spoke, having finished organizing the situation in his head. Encrid realized a moment too late that the title was directed at him.
"……Yes?"
"Are you aware of the authority granted to an Independent Company?"
Was there such a thing? Encrid wondered.
Marcus continued, "If you wish, you may requisition troops from other companies. Whether it be squad-sized or platoon-sized units."
Is he sane?
Encrid maintained a calm exterior, but internally, he questioned Marcus's sanity. Those words meant that the Independent Company could essentially act as a superior unit to the others. Literally.
“Hey, hand over your platoon. I'll return them when I'm done. Oh, wait, half of them died while I was using them.”
What would happen then? Furthermore, who would ever accept such an order?
Encrid scanned the faces of the other company commanders. None of them were pushovers. These were men who wore commanders' epaulets while living on the razor's edge of the battlefield. It was a position one could never hold with a soft attitude. Therefore, no matter how much authority the Battalion Commander had, such a proposal would surely—
"If it's for you, I can give you even more than that," the Elf Company Commander spoke first. Well, it made sense for that elf to say so.
"If the Border Guard is needed, then so be it," the Border Guard Captain stepped forward next. This one, perhaps, felt he owed a debt from the recent incident.
"The 1st Company acts as one body, but even if we are divided, we will pull our weight."
Why the 1st Company Commander? Wasn't he the prime candidate for the next Battalion Commander? Though the Border Guard Captain held the real power, this man also possessed formidable influence.
"Well, are we joining the mad company? I wouldn't mind merging my entire company into yours."
Was the 2nd Company Commander always such a spineless bastard? Encrid pondered for a moment before concluding he wasn't. This was the very man nicknamed 'Foaming Palto' because he would foam at the mouth and throw a fit whenever anyone tried to take men from his unit.
The 3rd Company Commander, who had filled the vacancy left by the deceased Rayon, and the reinforcing commanders showed similar reactions.
"Hmm, if it's the Independent Company, they can be trusted."
Even the reinforcing commander from Greenpearl, whom Encrid was meeting for the first time, nodded and looked at him with eyes full of faith, hope, and trust.
"Since when did such authority exist?" Encrid asked. He was not one to show emotion easily, so his tone remained flat.
The Battalion Commander nodded heartily, his voice full of amusement. "Starting right now, of course!"
Is this bastard under some kind of curse?
Or maybe he had eaten something bad. Perhaps he was suffering from heatstroke; the weather was indeed getting quite hot. Encrid quickly masked his expression. While he might not be a great actor, he was a master at hiding his emotions.
"I am not a man of great imagination," Marcus continued. When Encrid stared at him, wondering what on earth he was talking about, Marcus met his gaze. "If you were allowed to run wild outside the bounds of strategy and tactics, how far could you go? Can you suppress the enemy's cavalry? Can you strike down every single enemy that comes into view?"
A spark of passion began to color Marcus's voice. Perhaps it was because Encrid had witnessed his acting earlier, but he could see there was not a shred of performance in his words now. It felt like raw sincerity.
It reminded him of a speech by Krang he had seen in the past. Krang's speeches possessed a power that captivated the audience; there was a dignity in his gestures and voice that made people see visions. In Marcus, instead of dignity, there was passion. A burning passion—something possessed by a human being regardless of age.
The voice of the man swept up in this passion reached Encrid.
"On a small scale, you scouted; further, you dealt blows to enemy territory; and on a grand scale, your exploits on the battlefield brought victory to our allies. And is that all?!"
Slam!
As Marcus slammed his palm onto the table, the pins clattered and fell over once again. Yet, no one took their eyes off him. Everyone stared at his mouth, listening to his words, swept up in the atmosphere he exuded.
"You survived alone among a thousand gnolls to prove yourself, and as the commander of an uncontrollable force, you solidified your position. Above all, I am filled with admiration for your outstanding skill and ability. Thus, I ask: if you are granted unlimited authority on this battlefield, what can you achieve?"
What was it that Marcus believed in? And why did the Battalion Commander feel no threat from him? Why did no one object to accepting a beastman who had belonged to the Black Sword? Why were the company commanders so nonchalant, even when told their troops could be taken at will? And why did their eyes reflect things like faith, hope, and trust?
The things I have achieved.
A knight was defined by their skill and their achievements. Encrid felt, once again, as though the path he had walked was being validated. Pride? Such a word could not possibly describe it. A dream he had forgotten for a long time had reached out and become a part of reality.
At the same time, Encrid found his purpose. He had been asked a question, so he had to answer. Krang's speech had ended after displaying his own dignity and drawing in those around him, but Marcus was demanding an answer.
A small, elite force.
On the current continent, the tide of battle was decided by the presence of knights or knight-level forces. When a knight took to the battlefield, if no opposing knight appeared to face them, a massacre ensued. While duels were far more common than massacres, sometimes strategies were devised to pit a knight against an entire army. Conversely, that could also be used as a trap—sacrificing army strength to wear down and kill a knight.
The enemy does not know me.
Nor did they know the mad company. Marcus had set it up that way. A small, elite unit possessing martial power the enemy could never predict. Five individuals, each possessing strength at least on par with an Associate Knight.
Staring directly at his changed self, Encrid spoke. "I do not know. But I will do everything I can."
In truth, this was the first time Encrid had ever held such authority, and it was likely the first time Marcus had ever employed such an absurd strategy—creating an Independent Company of fewer than ten men instead of a proper order of knights, and then handing them absolute authority on the battlefield. It literally sounded as though the fate of the war was being wagered on Encrid alone.
Encrid thought his answer was lacking, but Marcus smiled as if satisfied. "Very well, then."
Since he had been given the authority, he would use it. His pounding heart spurred Encrid into motion. Just as he was about to step outside—
Bwooooooo!
As if on cue, the distant blare of a horn and the thumping of drums from beyond the castle walls faintly brushed against his ears. The enemy was approaching.
"All forces, assemble!" Marcus shouted as he emerged from the meeting room.
Encrid began to move at a near-run. There was a battlefield where he would fight alongside his allies—the core members of his company. However, as always, just getting them to move was a chore in itself. It had been that way ever since they were just the Troublemaker Squad.
As Encrid headed toward the barracks, he spotted his company members already fully armed and stepping outside.
"We're deploying, right? Marcus must have gone all out to back you up, Captain. Did he ask you to wipe out their cavalry or something?" Krais asked, wearing his leather helmet askew.
He predicted it. Encrid had expected as much.
"No."
"Then what? Did he ask you to bring back the enemy commander's head? That's a bit much."
"No."
"Huh? He didn't order you to do anything?"
"He asked me a question."
Encrid naturally fell into formation and took the lead. While he was speaking with Krais, Rem chimed in.
"That Big-Eyes bastard said it was time to fight. Was he actually telling the truth?"
It was true. But had Rem always been this willing to deploy without a fuss? The usual nonsense he spouted—about how they should smash their own commander's head first before heading out—was missing. Then again, the commander whose head would be smashed was now Encrid himself. In truth, there was no reason to be surprised by Rem; he was always eager when it came to the battlefield.
The real surprise started now.
"I heard Martai and crestless troops have arrived," Ragna said.
The guy who usually had zero interest in his surroundings had actually grasped the enemy's troop composition. Encrid briefly looked up at the sky, wondering if it was about to split in half. The sky was perfectly clear. There were barely any clouds.
"That's correct," Encrid replied, lowering his head.
As he answered, Audin smiled from behind. "Brother, let us go. Those we must send to the Lord are waiting for us out there."
It hardly sounded like something a priest should say, but then again, those who served the God of War were always like this. Sachsen merely gave a silent nod.
These were not people who would move just because Krais called them. Then why had they moved? Encrid realized once again that his relationship with them had subtly shifted.
From a mere scapegoat of a squad leader...
To a squad leader who was intriguing to watch...
To a squad leader who didn't cause troublesome situations...
To a platoon leader who finally knew a thing or two...
To a platoon leader who improved slightly after being taught...
And now, even further.
If I am to lead them.
An acknowledged human being, and a commander.
His heart pounded—just as much as when he yearned for his dream.
"So, what did he ask you?" Krais asked again.
"He asked me what I could do."
"……Wow, what a shameless man."
From Encrid's single sentence, Krais deduced the underlying context. It meant Marcus wanted Encrid to show the absolute limit of his capabilities.
"So I told him I would do everything I can."
"Are you going all out?"
At Krais's question, Encrid showed a faint smile. He didn't know. Was this the time to feel confident, or not? Was this arrogance, or was it something else? Was the sensation boiling in his chest merely a desire to fight? Or was it the deep emotion of realizing he stood in a different position than before, standing on the battlefield alongside them?
He didn't know. And Encrid didn't care to find out.
Right now, he simply wanted to swing his sword. He wanted to make the enemy realize what he was capable of by doing what he could. Desire and ambition mingled within his chest. Encrid felt a burning urge to make his presence known to the enemy and leave a lasting impression. It was an unprecedentedly proactive drive.
As they marched briskly, Encrid glanced back at Dunchabel, who was lagging slightly behind. "What happened to your eye?"
"I'm fine. I can still pull my weight."
The area around her eye was bruised blue. It stood out sharply against her golden pupils. There was no need to ask whose handiwork it was. The one who could paint a body blue without using any paint—wasn't that Rem's specialty?
"Stop beating the kids," Encrid said.
"It was just a simple sparring demonstration," Rem shrugged. "She was the one who said she wanted to fight me."
Well, kids did grow up taking a few hits. Encrid brushed it off. If she were the type to run away or plot behind his back after getting beaten like that, she wouldn't have asked to serve under him in the first place.
Clang!
The sound of the bell rang out from the tower. It was the signal that the enemy was coming into view. Through the open gates, people who made their living outside the walls were seen streaming in—the farming residents. No matter the enemy's numbers, they would attack the walls first, which meant siege weapons were a necessity.
"They'll have them, right? Mangonels," Encrid asked.
"Without a doubt," Krais replied.
"Go grab a few sets of clothes from the people coming inside. Something that fits our sizes. Right now."
"……That is a brilliant plan," Krais replied immediately, even without an explanation.
Encrid appreciated not having to explain at length. Krais moved swiftly, while Encrid headed toward the city gates instead of the wall where the commanders were gathering. Soon, Krais returned with the clothes.
"Audin's build is too big, though."
"Brother, a mere rag is enough for this body." Audin waved his hand dismissively, tore down a nearby stall's canvas, and draped it over himself like a cloak. It actually suited him quite well.
"So, what are you planning to do?" Rem asked.
Encrid wondered if a detailed explanation was necessary. He quickly decided against it.
"Follow me and see."
With that, Encrid and the mad company stepped out of the city gates.