Chapter 217: The Proposal, and...
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 217: The Proposal, and...
The moment Zimmer’s feet left the ground and he lunged forward, his body blurred into a terrifying afterimage. His speed was immense.
It was enough to evoke the image of an Associate Knight’s charge.
However, he wasn't quite at that level. That much was certain.
Encrid raised his sword at an angle. Tensing his wrists and forearms, he braced himself like a solid wall. It was a defensive stance that sat somewhere between the Orthodox Sword and the Heavy Sword Style.
Clang!
The tip of the estoc struck the flat of the blade Encrid had angled forward. Sparks flew as Zimmer’s sword was deflected to the side. Zimmer immediately pulled his weapon back.
Encrid, naturally, was not pushed back by sheer force; he didn't budge an inch. Having his blade parried, Zimmer retreated.
A naturally light body.
It was a body trained to its absolute limits, geared entirely toward a lunging thrust. For the sake of that single strike, he wore no armor.
His sword was thin and narrow. The weapon seemed to have been modified for lightness, and even his boots looked featherweight.
Encrid grasped all of this from that single clash of blades.
The moment Zimmer’s tactics were perceived and understood, Encrid knew this wasn't a fight to be dragged out. Because Encrid had just witnessed what Zimmer did, he knew he could do something similar.
He could do it even without specialized gear or tricks.
If so, all he had to do was execute.
Sliding his left foot back, he propelled his body forward. It was a thrust that differed from his opponent's, yet looked remarkably similar.
Igniting his Heart of Monstrous Strength, he channeled power from his toes, surging up through his ankles and thighs. On top of that, he unleashed the thrust he had learned on his very first battlefield.
Boom!
He kicked off the ground and surged.
The air tore open. In Encrid’s hyper-focused vision, everything else faded away. All he saw was the sword and the man holding it.
Zimmer also attempted to thrust his sword in response. To Encrid’s eyes, every movement was agonizingly slow—the extension of the blade, the shifting of the center of gravity.
Encrid knew his sword would reach his opponent first.
Even so, his opponent would not stop his blade. Knowing this, Encrid thrust the sword in his right hand into Zimmer’s shoulder while drawing his second sword with his left hand to strike the estoc—specifically, right in the middle of the blade.
It was a defensive maneuver executed with razor-sharp timing.
What seemed like a sequential exchange of moves to Encrid was nothing short of a miracle to the watching soldiers.
Thuck! Clang!
No sooner had Zimmer lunged and retreated than Encrid charged, followed by the rapid succession of a piercing flesh wound and a metallic strike.
And that was it.
To the soldiers, the exchange was barely a blur. All they saw was a hole suddenly appearing in Zimmer’s shoulder and the man collapsing to the ground.
"Ugh."
Zimmer swallowed a groan. He was a man who knew how to endure pain.
The snapped half of his blade, broken right in the middle from the strike, spun through the air before plunging straight into the dirt. It was a thin, straight sword designed solely for thrusting; naturally, it was weak against lateral impacts.
It was one of the Heavy Sword Style techniques: Weapon Shattering. And Encrid had executed it with his left hand.
Encrid did not celebrate his victory. He merely looked down and asked, "More?"
General Olf quickly spoke up. "We surrender."
It was, for all intents and purposes, the surrender of all of Martai. It was also a battle that would inevitably make the name Encrid famous.
Waaaaaaah!
A delayed cheer erupted. At the sound of the allies' cheers, the faces of the Martai forces turned pale. Their commander had surrendered. Some among them would surely not escape having their heads put on pikes.
Cleaning up the aftermath was Marcus’s job.
"Everyone, drop your weapons!" the commander bellowed in all directions. It was the announcement of the war's end.
Pitter-patter.
Rain began to fall through the late summer heat. It was raining despite the clear sky.
It was the Summer God's Prank.
Sunlight filtered through the falling rain, illuminating Encrid as he stood alone with his sword. Not just the soldiers of Martai, but even the soldiers of the Border Guard Standing Army—everyone’s eyes were fixed on the man standing amidst the Summer God's Prank.
He was the man who had led, torn through, and ended this battlefield.
His name was Encrid.
*
"Will you die? Or will you be imprisoned?"
Marcus left the choice to Olf. Olf, a man of the East, chose life.
"I will be imprisoned."
Killing him would have been a burden for Marcus in many ways. There was still much to squeeze out of a figure like Olf.
Well, this feels like a free win.
Marcus showed swift and decisive handiwork in handling the aftermath.
"I was the captain of the guard."
Marcus looked at the man who hadn't even stepped forward before immediately surrendering.
"Kill him."
"...Eh? I surrender! I surrender!"
"A captain of the guard bowing his head without a single act of resistance?" Marcus was cold. Not even a trace of his usual smile was visible. He criticized the man, though his words seemed directed at a broader audience. Only then did he calmly pass the death sentence.
"This is unjust..."
Thwack! Crack!
The 1st Company Commander took matters into his own hands. He swung his mace, crushing the man’s neck. It was a kill in a single blow. The man’s head hit the ground with a dull thud, his corpse left with its head lolling to one side due to the unnaturally bent neck.
"Too much talk."
Just as this began to instill dread in the enemy soldiers—
"Did you say your name was Zimmer?" Marcus called out to Zimmer, who was bleeding profusely from his punctured shoulder.
Glancing at Encrid, the battalion commander spoke in a whisper. It was a voice meant only for Encrid and Zimmer to hear. Of course, someone with sharp ears like Sachsen or the Elf Company Commander would hear if they strained, but he whispered quietly enough to warrant that effort.
"What do you think? He seems too good of a man to kill."
The question was directed not at Zimmer, but at his own man—Encrid.
Encrid wondered what Marcus’s intention was. "I don't think there's any need to go so far as to kill him."
Since Marcus had lowered his voice, Encrid replied quietly as well. At that answer, Marcus nodded deeply, and then suddenly raised his voice. He bellowed loudly and boisterously.
"As expected, you know how to respect your opponent! How magnanimous! To plead for the life of the opponent you just crossed blades with!"
Plead? When did I do that?
To Encrid, it was utterly absurd. Unlike when he had asked the question, Marcus continued to speak in a booming voice so everyone around could hear.
"I shall grant that request! Not only did you lead us to victory on the battlefield, but you also show mercy to the enemy commander. You are the finest soldier I have ever seen. Is that not so? What do you all think?"
The final question was directed at their own soldiers. In other words, he was hyping him up.
Despite the victory, the combination of overwhelming martial prowess, the pattering rain, and the faint sunlight filtering through had left them in a daze. Some of the allied soldiers, who had missed their cue to cheer, finally let out a shout.
"We won!"
It didn't take long for that short, brave cry to transform into a roar of triumph from the entire army.
"The flower of the battlefield is!"
"Infantry!"
"The flower of the Border Guard is!"
"The Madman!"
Encrid let out a dry chuckle. That ridiculous chant seems to be getting weirder. Though it did have a certain consistency.
"We lost," Zimmer muttered from below, gesturing behind him. The enemy soldiers gathered to one side. "Do not resist. Do not die in vain."
Normally, conflicts between territories ended with capturing the enemy commander and exchanging them for Krona or other compensations. But this time was different. It was a crushing defeat, an absolute rout. With their territory fallen, this would be a war recorded in the history books.
"My name is!"
"Encrid!"
"Waaaaaaah!"
As the soldiers’ cheers grew louder, the anxiety-ridden residents of the provincial territory watched warily. Everyone had locked their doors, busy peering through the cracks of windows and doors. Those with lesser courage didn't even dare look outside.
It was common for victorious soldiers to turn into bandits after a territory fell. Even if they plundered the entire territory right now, who could stop them? If looting truly began, would it stop at property? Rape and pillaging would erupt everywhere.
Anxiety seemed to shroud the entire territory. Some of the residents wondered if they should grab fire pokers and fight back, but that would be throwing their lives away.
"Zimmer, I ask on your honor. This territory is now annexed to the Border Guard. Do you foresee any issues if we withdraw the standing army and leave only a portion of our forces?"
Marcus was a politician among politicians, even among the central nobility. He knew how to win over an opponent’s heart.
"If you can give me your word, we intend to march back today."
Zimmer blinked. On what basis? If they only left a small force, Martai’s remaining troops would outnumber them. Honor? Asking on his honor?
"If you have other thoughts, look over there."
Marcus stepped closer and whispered. A few paces away stood the black-haired man, standing tall and alone. His name was Encrid, a guy with a habit of announcing his name on the battlefield.
Zimmer found his appearance highly displeasing. It was hard to call him pretty, but he was unnecessarily handsome.
"He’s the Mad Company Commander. If you take your anger out on our troops, they will take that anger out on all your people."
Normally, trust requires belief, but if there is no belief, one simply has to make it arise naturally. When backed into a corner with no other options, belief and trust would manifest on their own.
"Yes, on my honor," Zimmer gave his word.
"We march back," Marcus spoke, handling the subsequent matters with practiced ease.
Encrid quietly withdrew. On the way back, he heard that the rest of the Border Guard would remain in the territory.
"Hey, looks like we won't be seeing each other often now."
Torres approached and rambled on. A few other key members of the guard also came over to chat. Among them was a fellow named Hyo-woon, who exchanged a few trivial words with Encrid.
"I'll defeat you next time, so don't slack off on your training."
After spouting such nonsense, Hyo-woon went off to say something to Ragna. Encrid had replied that he would—that he would keep striving and moving forward. Hyo-woon hadn't been serious either; the man's sense of humor was as terrible as an elf's.
"So, according to the battalion commander, this territory is being handed over to our captain?"
Krais, who was listening nearby, nodded. "It seems he wants to completely integrate this territory, using the Border Guard as the core. Honestly, I like his ambition. Marcus didn't just secure this territory’s cooperation; he swallowed the territory whole."
Torres glanced at Krais and asked, "Does this guy always just throw the battalion commander’s name around like that?"
"Don't worry, he always checks to make sure none of the commander’s adjutants are around first."
Wasn't that missing the point entirely? Well, it didn't matter. Torres nodded vaguely and said, "You go become a knight. I'll try to become the next commander of Martai."
That meant rising to the very top of the Border Guard. The fact that he was even saying such things was because he had been influenced by Encrid. That was why Torres felt compelled to say it.
"Take care."
With a light pat, that was the end of his farewell. They marched back, and for the time being, the Border Guard remained there.
Immediately after returning, Encrid washed, rested, ate, and slept. He hadn't rested properly since returning from the raid on the Black Sword.
"What did you say is just as important as training, brother?"
It was the phrase Audin always kept on his lips. Rest was just as important as training.
Their allies were still highly excited. For some reason, quite a few people loitered around the Mad Company, but Rem wasn't there for show. No one dared get any closer than that.
Thus, he rested deeply for two days. Aside from light training and exercises, he gave his body a proper break. Waking up from a deep, dreamless sleep for the first time in a long while, he saw a green-eyed elf before him.
"...Is this a nightmare?" Encrid muttered.
"If I appeared in your dream, it would be a wet dream."
"It's reality, then."
An elven joke. Wondering what was going on so early in the morning, Encrid sat up. The elf stared at him blankly and said, "Go see the battalion commander after you finish training."
"Understood."
Had the elf really come all this way at dawn just to say that? Truly an incomprehensible elf. Seeing the elf spout nonsense about wet dreams with a deadpan expression, Encrid felt, as he always did, that she possessed an inhuman beauty paired with an equally inhuman personality and sense of humor.
After the elf left, Esther woke up and rubbed her eyes. The way she rubbed them with her front paws was adorable.
"Good morning."
"Grrr."
After greeting Esther, Encrid went out to begin his training. As he was about to head out around sunrise, Rem appeared, yawning widely, and spoke.
"I'm going to run that beastman ragged."
It wasn't a question or a request for permission; it was a notification.
"Why?"
"If we just leave her be, she'll turn into a parasite who does nothing but waste food. Wouldn't it be better to let her die on the battlefield instead? Well, if that's what you want, go ahead."
"Aren't you just making excuses because you want to beat her up?"
At those words, Rem fell silent. Seeing him occasionally tongue-tied like this proved that even he was human.
"...No, the captain accepted her into our unit, so I'm, you know, personally training her. What are you talking about?"
So it is an excuse to beat her up. Encrid knew, but he nodded nonchalantly. She had seemed to have nowhere to go, and the fierce desperation in her eyes had somehow reminded him of himself. That was why he had accepted her, but Rem’s words weren't wrong either. If left like this, she would probably end up stabbed to death somewhere.
"Audin, ask the beastman what she wants. If she still wants to do it, leave her to him."
Otherwise, he planned to transfer her to another unit.
"Will do," Audin, who had been sweating alongside him during the morning training, replied. This was a familiar routine for them. Whether they had rolled around on the battlefield the day before or fought for their lives, training and pushing their bodies was their daily life.
After saying that, Encrid headed to the battalion commander’s office. As he walked, a thought crossed his mind.
So I'm a company commander now, after a fashion.
Did he have to manage the soldiers under his command now? Until now, it couldn't even be called management. It was more accurate to say he had been busy being dragged along. Then, what about now? He had formed ranks on the battlefield and even issued something resembling orders afterward.
Just as he was changing, they were changing too. Strategy and tactics—it felt like a headache. He should just move as the situation demanded.
"Tell him I'm here."
When he spoke, nodding to the guard in front of the office, the guard opened the door and said, "It was an honor to stand on the battlefield with you."
This fellow must have fought as well. Because Encrid had fought at the very vanguard of the battlefield, he hadn't had the leisure to look back. The excitement of the battlefield had not yet faded. The guard’s words proved it, as did the envious glances of the soldiers he passed.
Some were boasting of their own exploits, and there was even a crazy bastard who claimed he would turn Encrid’s heroic deeds into a song. If the other guys hadn't smacked him on the head to stop him, Encrid would have smacked him himself. The soldier was a terrible singer.
The victory celebration party hadn't even been held yet. They had decided to prepare for two days to rest properly, and then eat, drink, and make merry. Until then, they were told to rest to their heart's content.
"Oh, you're here?" Marcus welcomed him with a smile.
"Yes."
Neither the adjutant nor the Elf Company Commander was anywhere to be seen. With the same smiling face, Marcus spoke.
"By any chance, do you have any interest in becoming the Border Guard Battalion Commander?"
It was an entirely unexpected proposal.