Chapter 303: Not 'Really,' but 'Why'
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 303: Not 'Really,' but 'Why'
"What kind of person is he?"
At his adjutant's question, Graham shifted in his seat. A sharp pain shot up his spine and lanced into his head.
Sinar.
He had heard that the elf had given Encrid a salve that worked wonders on wounds. He was the castellan, and even if he weren't, weren't they supposed to be long-time comrades? Why hadn't a single medicinal root, let alone a salve, come his way?
Graham shook off the stray thoughts and focused. "Who?"
"The one at Greenpearl."
One of his adjutants was clueless and dim-witted, but the other was well above average. Even his questions were of a different caliber.
No, is it just relative?
Maybe he only looked smart because the stupid bastard of an adjutant was standing right next to him. Still, Graham couldn't just cast the clueless one aside. How far could a portion of humanity go for someone else? That adjutant might not risk his life, but he was the kind of man who would risk an arm to save his commander. For that alone, he was worth keeping.
"Garret Gairo."
Graham spoke the name of the man who had once been his superior but was now of equal rank. The name didn't roll off his tongue easily.
Garret's battalion had originally been the Border Guard's second reserve unit. However, thanks to their victory in the Battle of Greenpearl, they had been reorganized into a new battalion stationed on the Greenpearl Plains.
"He's an opportunist who will do anything for his own gain. Rumors are rampant that the only reason Azpen hasn't invaded yet is because Battalion Commander Garret has already defected to their side."
It wasn't as if those rumors had only reached Encrid's ears. Graham suddenly felt an itch and scratched the inside of his ear with his pinky.
"Is someone talking shit about me somewhere?"
He suspected the stupid adjutant he had just kicked out of the room.
"If Azpen pushes in, the city is in danger too, Boss."
Graham, their commander and castellan, nodded. "Who doesn't know that?"
How should he describe Garret Gairo?
"Did he betray us? I don't think so. If I had to bet a krona, I'd bet he didn't."
Garret was a sly old fox—the exact opposite of the stupid adjutant who was probably cursing Graham right now. He was a cunning and shrewd man, yes, but not a traitor.
"Why else would Lord Marcus have put him there?"
*
The battalion commander was a remarkably handsome man with dull blonde hair. He looked to be in his middle years as he strode forward.
Encrid reflexively measured the distance.
Two and a half steps.
If he wanted to, it was a distance his sword could bridge in a fraction of a heartbeat.
"If you deem him an enemy, you must cut him down, subdue him, or seize him by the head and immediately take control of his troops."
Krais had said this before they arrived. Encrid agreed with that assessment. He subtly slid his left foot forward, completing his 'Preparation.'
He could thrust quickly, or if the opponent attacked first, parry and strike back with his Snake Sword. Since his right arm was halfway recovered, he could also execute deflecting and striking techniques. Deflect with the right hand, thrust with the left. He had finished preparing his mind as well.
Keeping all options open, he faced the battalion commander. Behind the man, he could see a portion of the archer unit, infantry, and guards. All of them seemed strangely tense.
Battalion Commander Garret approached with wide strides.
"Marcus, you petty bastard!" he shouted.
There was a strange tone in his voice.
"I missed you!" Garret boomed as he drew near.
A man who was meticulous in everything, an opportunist, and someone who would do anything for profit—that was the evaluation of those who claimed to know Garret.
But he doesn't seem like that at all.
"He really is handsomer than me, Nurat! What do you think?"
"He is handsome," someone among the guards answered. It was a dark-skinned woman.
The battalion commander, Garret, was a man who knew how to laugh. And he laughed so brightly, too.
Then he said, "Now you're the most handsome man in the Border Guard."
"Agreed," Krais muttered from behind. The man who had been visibly tense and worried let out a deflated remark.
Encrid also relaxed a little. If the opponent had calculated even this reaction, he was a sly bastard even worse than Sachsen. Of course, Sachsen would never admit to it if he heard.
"Let's head in."
Garret turned around. Even if he was hiding his skills, what did it mean to show his back so carelessly? Garret had not betrayed them. Encrid understood this through both reason and instinct.
"Still, be careful," Krais whispered. He was worried it might be a trap to lure them inside and capture them.
But for that to be the case...
He seems way too off-guard.
Encrid scratched his chin and followed Garret. If Rem had been here, he probably would have called the man a hearty fellow.
He had left Rem, Audin, and Teresa behind.
"We also need someone to guard our rear. If things go south, we have to bolt," Krais had reasoned.
Encrid's reasoning was a bit different. "Unless you plan on fighting to the death, is there really a need?"
Everyone was injured. When it was time to rest, they should rest.
"A bit of spit will cure this," Rem had protested, but contrary to his words, he had slathered on quite a bit of the elf's salve. He had even coveted Sachsen's herb collection, nearly starting a fight.
"Even the point-ears' salve is too good for your body. Go mix some mud and smear it on," Sachsen had needled him.
Stopping their fights was something Encrid could practically do in his sleep by now. After separating the two, Encrid had ordered: "Stay behind."
It was a single command that cut off any protests. He had even forced himself to summon his Will of Rejection to say it. That was how much willpower he had shown.
"If you go and die, I'll personally take up my axe of vengeance," Rem was the first to give up, while Audin only chuckled. It didn't sound like a happy laugh.
"It is because this body of mine is weak," Audin said, trying to prick Encrid's conscience with self-deprecation.
"Yeah. So why don't you train your body more?" Encrid smoothly deflected the joke. After all, his tongue was already knight-class.
"Don't you know by now that if you try to win with words, you'll only get countered, you big bear? I know better, so don't go wagging your tongue in front of me," Rem advised from the side.
Naturally, Audin didn't listen. He simply began to pray. "Did you see the arrogance of our poor, small commander, Father? Even if he enters heaven, please do not run him too ragged."
It was a prayer that straddled the line between a blessing and a curse.
"Thanks for the consecration prayer," Encrid added, securing a perfect victory. Audin chuckled and shook his head. Encrid held his tongue, fearing that if he pushed any further, Audin might challenge him to a fight regardless of rank.
Only Teresa didn't protest. Her injuries were too severe for her to rebel. Still, she said she felt relieved to have killed the Wolf Bishop. He didn't know the history between them, but he could sense that their relationship was far from good.
"You did well," he had praised her.
Thus, he was currently accompanied by the mage Esther, Krais (who wanted to flee if things went south), Ragna (who walked silently, lost in thought), and Sachsen (who stated without a trace of a smile that he was glad they had left Rem behind).
"It looks like someone poured oil all over his face."
Ah, Sinar was with them too. The elf company commander had a few wounds on her forearms, but they were mere scratches.
"He looks greasy," Sinar whispered repeatedly as she approached. She was referring to Garret, but no matter how Encrid looked at him, he seemed handsome rather than greasy.
"Is that so?" He supposed it was a relief Garret hadn't heard. Then again, even if he had, he seemed like the type to just let it slide. He was an unpredictable man.
"Right now, you are my superior," Encrid said.
"This way of speaking is more comfortable for me," Sinar replied. She had insisted the entire way there that he speak to her in commands.
"Are you the type who likes being ordered around and coerced?" he asked, unable to hold back.
"Coercion from a fiancé... intriguing. I wonder how it would feel."
What kind of crazy talk is this, seriously? Even for an elven joke, wasn't this crossing the line?
"It is a joke." Sinar still didn't show a hint of a smile. There wasn't just some strange, bizarre reason behind her telling him to change his tone; in truth, she wasn't forcing him either. "It would be troublesome if there were issues with the chain of command."
That was the real reason.
"It won't matter."
Sometimes, Sinar seemed unaware of the power her appearance held. She always gave off an impression that demanded respect. In her gestures, her steps, and her tone, she constantly made one aware that she was an elf.
"How old are you? If you are younger than me, I will speak informally."
"The chain of command is none of my concern." Sinar turned away, her expression as blank as ever.
Encrid entered the camp built by Greenpearl.
"It looks like a small village."
They had felled large trees to build a wooden palisade, and though most lived in tents, wooden houses could be seen here and there. There were also signs of construction that had been halted midway. They must have stopped because of the war and the winter.
"If we only had until next winter, we could have set up a proper village," Garret said as they entered the largest tent in the center.
Garret sat down at a wide table. Several guards stood behind him, including Nurat, the Black woman from earlier. While a few Black people could be seen in the eastern part of the continent, they were not a common race in these parts.
"Do you know how much I've wanted to meet you?" Garret said abruptly. Encrid could only tilt his head. "Man, I heard all about that battle. From the Battle of Greenpearl to the Soldier Who Ended the War, it was a thrilling tale. Tell me more about it in detail..."
"Boss." Nurat stood at attention behind him and bowed slightly from the waist.
"Ah, now is not the time to talk about this, is it?"
"No, it is not."
"Azpen is right under our noses, Boss," another guard stepped forward. He was a large-framed man who looked taciturn. He held himself with gravity, his jaw angular and his mouth tightly shut.
"Right, that's my personal interest."
Garret's atmosphere shifted in an instant. His smile didn't change, and his expression remained the same, but the aura the man exuded twisted strangely.
It was like Krais reacting to a bet involving krona. Like Audin confronting someone who insulted his god. Like Ragna showing enthusiasm for the sword. Like Rem doing something crazy without a single thought in his head.
"I believe our best option is to give up and run. What do you think?"
Encrid felt Krais flinch at Garret's words. He must be thrilled. He gets excited the moment anyone mentions running away.
"Why?" Encrid asked.
"I can't gauge what the opponent is going to do."
"Is that your reason?"
"It is a reason," Krais chimed in. He thought this was his stage. Encrid didn't stop him, giving a slight nod to encourage him. Seeing this, Garret turned his gaze to Krais.
"We have a sharp one here. What's your name?"
"It's Krais."
"In all my life, I never thought I'd ask for a pretty boy's name first when there are two beautiful women present. Well then, would you care to explain the reason?"
There was a rhythm to Garret's speech. It wasn't unpleasant; his voice sounded almost melodic.
Krais had already explained this once, but he felt the need to organize his thoughts again. "Whether it was the Black Sword or the cultists, Azpen only watched while they fought in front."
"Does that count as a reason?" Sinar asked. Although Encrid was the official commander-in-chief, Sinar was of a similar rank.
"An elf's voice truly sounds like a musical instrument," Garret remarked. It seemed he would grow needles on his tongue if he didn't spout nonsense.
Sinar ignored him effortlessly.
"It is a reason," Krais continued. "If what we see is everything, Azpen should have struck us first. It is winter now. We have connected our supply lines to Greenpearl, and though it's unstable, we can hold our ground. Even without a castle, a defensive battle won't be difficult. How many watchtowers do we have?"
"Eight."
"Spread out?"
"Clustered."
It was hard to follow the rapid-fire conversation between Garret and Krais. Encrid waited.
"What about Azpen? Their supplies? Their march? Their camp construction?" Krais asked. It was a rhetorical question meant for emphasis. Supplies, marching, camp construction—none of these were easy in this weather. It was the difference between those who had prepared while it was warm and those who hadn't. "Both time and circumstances favor us, yet Azpen only watched."
Krais secretly thought there must be a monster of a strategist in the enemy camp. Otherwise, it made no sense.
"It means they have prepared something."
"Exactly. Honestly, I wondered if they were just going to watch and then retreat. But that wasn't the case."
"Are they coming?"
"They are."
"Their speed?"
"Slow."
"That's bad."
"Very bad."
Listening from behind, Nurat leaned forward. "No one can understand you two."
"Krais, speak in the common tongue," Encrid cut in.
Garret gestured, and Krais explained. Azpen had not seized any advantageous high ground, nor were they moving in a hurry. They were pushing forward with deliberate intent.
There were two reasons.
"First, they have a perfect grasp of our military strength," Krais spoke first.
"Second, they are confident they will win," Garret finished.
Garret and Krais looked at each other. Then, without a word, they reached out and lightly high-fived. A crisp clap echoed inside the tent.
"Boss," Nurat sighed, bowing her head again.
"Ah, now is not the time to be excited, is it?"
"No, it is not."
Garret was an oddball, but he was sharp. And he didn't seem to have betrayed them. Encrid refrained from smacking Krais on the back of the head.
"So, what if we pull back? What if we run away like this?"
"The city falls, and we become war criminals referred to a kingdom trial. So running away is the answer, yet it's no longer an option," Garret answered the question he had posed to Krais.
As the two raised their hands to high-five again, Encrid pushed Krais's head down.
"Then you'll have to come up with a way to win," Encrid said. Using his head was not his forte; that was Krais's specialty.
"That's not something that just pops out because you ask for it. First, the surrounding terrain..."
"Nurat." At Garret's word, a map was produced. It was a military map outlining the surrounding terrain.
"Are there any issues with our supplies?"
"None at all. To touch our supply lines, they'd have to break through four narrow watchtowers."
As Krais and Garret fell back into a conversation only they understood, Encrid stepped away. He watched for a moment, but he was lucky if he understood even half of what they were saying. Sinar had already slipped out before him.
Encrid left the tent, wanting to breathe some fresh air. Someone had poured oil into the brazier, making the air inside incredibly stuffy. Stepping outside, he saw Ragna, who had already been out there for a while.
Ragna stared blankly at Encrid. He seemed to have something to say. As Encrid approached, Ragna tilted his head slightly, looking up at the sky beyond the wooden palisade.
"Why do you want to become a knight?"
It was an abrupt question. It was also a pleasant one.
Not "really," but "why."
He wasn't asking if Encrid really wanted to become a knight, but why he wanted to become one. The meaning implied in that single question was entirely different.