Chapter 22: Discretionary Reassignment
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 22: Discretionary Reassignment
The 4th Platoon Leader was making idle small talk.
Encrid gave half-hearted replies, letting the words drift past, but he could tell the man was stalling. He clearly had something to say.
"If you have something on your mind, just say it," Encrid said.
He was currently drenched in sweat, thoroughly enjoying the cool breeze. It was a perfect moment—the pleasant ache of exhaustion paired with a gentle wind. He wanted the man to say his piece and leave so he could enjoy it in peace.
"...I’d like you to temporarily transfer to the scout unit for a mission," the 4th Platoon Leader finally said, crossing his arms.
His posture was defensive, lacking the decisiveness of a commander.
Encrid considered the request. The scout unit.
It wasn't a standard draft. Moreover, Encrid knew all too well that his own standing in the army was precarious. The only reason he could even remain a squad leader was because this was the 444th Squad—the unit of misfits. And now they wanted to pull someone like him into the scouts?
"Are you sure about that? Taking our squad leader?" Rem’s head suddenly popped up from behind.
Rem rested his chin on Encrid’s shoulder. Since there wasn't much of a height difference, it was a comfortable enough position to lean on.
"Are you serious?" Rem asked with a half-smile, but his tone carried a sharp warning not to take Encrid away.
"It's an order, Rem," the 4th Platoon Leader barked, glaring at him.
It was a bluff, and Encrid saw right through it. Rem was a loose cannon—a madman who would swing his axe the moment things didn't go his way. Invoking a commander's authority against a man like that was utterly pointless. The Platoon Leader knew it, Encrid knew it, and Rem knew it best of all.
"Rem."
Before his axe-loving subordinate could escalate, Encrid called his name and shrugged his shoulder to push him back.
"Fine, whatever. Do what you want," Rem grumbled, stepping away.
"I can go instead," Ragna added indifferently, watching the exchange from the side.
"...Is getting lost your dream job?" the Platoon Leader asked.
Rem smirked. Ragna flared up but suppressed his anger. It wasn't a lie; Ragna had absolutely no sense of direction. You could hand him a map and explain the route three times, and he would still somehow end up in a different province. He wasn't exactly a team player, either. Hadn't he ended up in the 444th precisely because he ignored orders and fought however he pleased in every other squad?
There were too many red flags to ever choose him as a scout.
"Anyone else, but definitely not you," the 4th Platoon Leader said, shaking his head at Ragna.
Although the situation felt like a bad omen to Encrid, he had to admit the logic. Considering everything, I am indeed the most suitable candidate.
His ambiguous position only held weight when he was among the members of the 444th Squad. Even being away for a single week had caused a stir. Yet they were specifically calling for him now? It suggested they were desperate for warm bodies.
Although the rumors of a curse had died down, the aftermath remained. Bo, Jack, and Rotten had all been part of the scout unit. They were severely short-staffed.
"Sigh, it's a headache for me, too. One of the other platoon leaders caught a stomach bug and can't even move," the man complained.
It was enough to make one genuinely believe in a curse. Of all places, these mishaps only seemed to happen to the scout platoon. The Platoon Leader looked exhausted; he didn't seem particularly happy about drafting Encrid, either.
Something feels strangely off.
As Encrid stared at him, lost in thought, the Platoon Leader snapped.
"Don't look at me like that. I'll tell you everything."
"Pardon?"
"I said, don't look at me with those eyes!"
What did I even do? Encrid wondered. He had merely been looking, but the 4th Platoon Leader let out a deep sigh, clearly overreacting.
"Hey, how can you swear like that with your eyes? Even if it's only occasionally, you should think about how the other person feels. Especially when it's your superior," Rem said, snickering.
If Encrid reacted to the joke, there would be no end to it. Deciding to just listen, he turned back to the Platoon Leader.
"To bolster the scout unit's numbers, we temporarily promoted one of the squad leaders to platoon leader, but we're still short. An order was handed down to draft capable scouts from every unit. But then the higher-ups suggested including you, and that's how we ended up here."
"The higher-ups?"
"The new company commander. You didn't get on his bad side, did you?"
Since I know his secret, is he sending me to the scouts to have me killed quietly? Encrid wondered. No, if that were the case, would he really need to go to such lengths? He has the means to kill me secretly anyway. And even if not, there are plenty of other ways.
From the commander's perspective, Encrid shouldn't be that hard to eliminate. Therefore, he concluded the commander had likely given the order without much thought.
"It's an order from above. So just go along with it," the Platoon Leader finished.
Beside him, Rem continued to glare. Behind him, Ragna kept insisting he should go. And right in front of the barracks, a squad member who stood a full head taller than the average soldier—a man who looked like he could wrestle a bear to death—was looking up at the sky, praying.
"O Most Holy Lord, please do not take away my small and precious squad leader. Do not lay such a trial upon this small and fragile servant."
The 4th Platoon Leader was utterly dumbfounded. Who is taking him away? And who exactly is 'small and fragile'?
The praying soldier's forearm muscles twitched and bulged. His forearms were as thick as an ordinary soldier's thighs. He was tall with long limbs, so people didn't always notice his bulk at first glance, but the man was a walking siege engine. If this devout soldier was considered "fragile," then healthy, normal people were a dying breed.
"It'll just be this once. Winter is coming soon, and then this campaign will be over," the Platoon Leader added.
During the next campaign, they would reorganize the scout unit anyway. They wouldn't keep the 444th Squad Leader there permanently. Encrid understood. Few fools continued a war through the winter. The fighting would likely halt once autumn passed.
There was no need to overthink it. This was a common occurrence—being called in to fill a gap. Though he lacked "talent" in combat, he was above average in other tasks, scouting included.
However, perhaps because he had recently been away due to his injuries, his squad members were unanimously unhappy about him leaving again.
But I really am the perfect fit.
It wasn't baseless confidence. If he took a wrong turn and died, he could simply repeat the day. This mission was more advantageous to him than to anyone else. Recognizing and avoiding danger was his specialty.
"It's an order, Squad Leader Four."
The Platoon Leader called it an order, but it sounded more like a plea for help.
Encrid looked back at his men. Rem had started sharpening his axe. Ragna was still muttering about going in his place. The giant was whispering, "Are you truly testing me in the end?"
What an atmosphere.
It felt like if he came back with so much as a scratch, these men would start a rebellion.
Were they always like this? I don't think so. When I first joined, we weren't the type to get so involved in each other's business. When did it change? Was it really that hard for them while I was gone?
Even Big-Eyes shook his head in disapproval. Still, an order was an order. Even if his squad members were reckless renegades, Encrid was a soldier.
"I'll go," he said, letting out a long sigh.
With that single word, the atmosphere settled. It was only natural. No matter how nominal the title, he was the leader of this six-man squad.
"Do whatever you want," Rem snorted.
"Hey, I told you, I can go!" Ragna insisted, but there was no way that would fly. A man who got lost inside his own camp acting as a scout? Encrid found it a miracle that Ragna had even survived his wandering days. He claimed to have traveled all the way to the eastern sea; Encrid suspected he only ended up there because he couldn't find his way back.
Still, he didn't pry. Encrid always kept a moderate distance. If someone didn't want to share their past, he didn't ask. That was his way.
"Alright, good," the 4th Platoon Leader said, turning to leave. His steps were twice as light as when he had arrived, as if a heavy burden had been lifted.
After the leader left, while the squad was washing up and resting, a small commotion broke out in the barracks.
"Are you still practicing what I taught you?" Sachsen asked, half-reclined on his cot at the very back.
Encrid, whose cot was at the front, nodded reflexively. Since he had spent his repeated days practicing the auditory training he’d learned from Sachsen, it was a fair question.
But Rem reacted with immediate displeasure. "Learned what?"
Over time, Encrid had received training from several of his squad members. He had learned bits and pieces from Rem, Ragna, and even the devout giant. Every lesson was a means to survive the battlefield. Encrid studied hard, but he hadn't fully mastered them, mostly using them as makeshift survival tools. Many were simply too difficult to master in a short time.
At least the Beast's Heart had finally settled properly into his body. But until now, he had never learned anything from Sachsen.
"What did you teach him?" Rem sat up, his eyes narrowing.
"Keep at it consistently. It will help," Sachsen said, ignoring Rem entirely.
Something like fire flared in Rem's eyes. "This bastard..."
"Don't," Encrid said, grabbing Rem’s shoulder.
"What did you learn from that shady bastard? I'm telling you, if you just learn any random thing, you'll pick up bad habits."
"Heh." Sachsen let out a dry chuckle. "Oh, right. It must be your time to die. Today's the day. You want to become monster feed out on those plains, don't you?"
Sachsen remained consistently dismissive. Encrid sighed and pulled Rem back.
"Cut it out. It's not like we're going to fight to the death."
"Don't worry. I'll be the one surviving," Rem snapped.
No, that's not what I meant.
"Who's surviving?" Ragna chimed in.
"Oh, Lord, may I send this faithless, foolish soul to heaven? If you permit it, I shall do so," the giant prayed.
"Stop, stop, stop! No matter how many times you fight, I'll just break it up. Let's not waste our energy," Encrid commanded.
He was starting to regret accepting the mission. Is it really okay to leave these guys behind?
"Don't worry too much. They rarely go all the way. They usually stop after clashing weapons a few times," Krais said, casually counting the silver coins in his pocket.
That was the problem. Those "few times" looked like a death match to any outsider. Despite being such troublemakers, the commanders never cast them out for one reason: their outstanding abilities. On the battlefield, these men were worth ten soldiers each.
It made sense for Encrid to be the one pulled for scouting. My absence won't hurt our combat power.
The thought reminded him of his own shortcomings. I have no talent.
He had lost to a twelve-year-old child. It didn't matter how much of a genius that child was; a fully grown man, unable to bear the weight of his own sword, had stumbled and lost to a girl. It wasn't a matter of pride or despair. It was simply a fact that forced him to look at himself clearly.
But had he given up? No. He had chewed over that failure again and again, gaining a precise understanding of his limits.
Was this the end? Also no. If he had no talent... then he would move half a step at a time. As long as he didn't stop, it would be enough. And Encrid had never once stopped.
Sleep eluded him, so Encrid took his sword and went outside. He needed to break a sweat to quiet his mind. Seeing this, Ragna stood up and followed.
"Let me check your stance. It's been a while."
"While I'm right here?" Rem added, getting up a moment later.
Their eyes met, and a murderous aura clashed between them. It felt as if a vortex would form where their gazes locked.
"Practicing consistently will help. Far more than clumsy swordplay," Sachsen called out from his bed.
The two men whipped their heads toward him.
"Clumsy?" Rem growled.
"Swordplay?" Ragna echoed.
"Didn't you both say you were going to check my stance?" Encrid intervened.
Having finally placated them, Encrid stepped out. Taking their half-advice and half-nagging to heart, he swung his sword again and again.
A day drenched in sweat passed. Once the sun rose, he would set out with the scout platoon. He wasn't overly worried; he didn't think it would be exceptionally difficult. After their workout, the squad's irritation seemed to have vanished. After washing up at a nearby stream, Encrid fell into a refreshing sleep.
*
"Company Commander, why did you send that fellow to the scout unit of all places?"
The Elf Company Commander looked up as the 1st Platoon Leader approached the torch stand.
"Step away from the torch. If it falls, it could start a fire."
"Pardon?"
"To the side."
"Yes, sir."
The 1st Platoon Leader took a few steps back. The commander's tent was taller and wider than the others, with a single torch illuminating a crude meeting table. They were currently mapping out scouting routes.
The 1st Platoon Leader, who also served as the commander's advisor—a long-standing tradition of the Cypress Division—waited for an answer.
"I thought it would suit a soldier who is quick-witted and knows how to survive," the commander said.
"Ah, I see."
It wasn't a heavily weighed decision. It was an assignment based purely on intuition. There was no specific reason; if anyone else had asked, he would have simply said, "Just because."
Of course, the commander's judgment was rarely wrong. An elf's intuition was often sharper than the words of a prophet.