Chapter 304: Anytime
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 304: Anytime
Standing alone outside, Ragna reflected on his past.
"One thousand swings. Don't even think about coming back inside until you're finished."
A thousand downward strokes. He hadn't thought it would be difficult.
However, Ragna had been curious.
Why must I swing a sword?
His arms ached. His body screamed in protest. It wasn't even fun. Had it ever been fun, even when he first picked up a blade?
He had no idea; he couldn't even remember.
"Why? Did you just ask why? If you were born a man of House Zaun, it is only natural."
They said it was only natural. Could that really be a reason?
The same routine repeated endlessly.
Why did he have to do it?
"Uphold the prestige of House Zaun."
Why did he have to do that?
"Become a knight."
Why did he have to become a knight?
"Kill."
Why did he have to kill?
Since childhood, Ragna had been unable to find his path. Finding his way was the hardest thing in the world for him.
Why was it so difficult?
Because he didn't know the right path. Because there was no path he recognized. Ragna had no destination.
That was why he was always curious.
How could a man like Encrid be the way he was?
Shouldn't everyone doubt the path they walk at least once? To wonder if the road they are currently on is the right one. To question if their reasons are justifiable, or if their purpose is fitting for a life.
Until now, Ragna had never seen the confusion of a lost soul in Encrid's eyes.
Anyone else would wander from time to time, but not Encrid.
He was always certain. That was why Ragna wanted to ask.
Why did he want to become a knight?
*
Encrid looked at Ragna and scratched his chin out of habit.
The answer was already set. But he didn't know if it was the answer the other man wanted to hear.
Honestly, that bastard Rem is easier to deal with.
Rem's thinking was flexible. It was hard to tell because he was a madman, but his spirit was the type to bend rather than snap.
Audin was robust. His mental fortitude was so solid it was incomparable to anyone else's.
He seemed precarious at first, though.
Even now, Audin shook occasionally, but it was the tremor inherent in refined steel. In other words, one could glimpse a robustness that gave absolute certainty he would never collapse.
Sachsen was placid. Because he was placid, he was cold. He did not easily show passion for anything. Of course, within that coldness, there was occasionally a heat so intense it felt like it would burn just by looking at it.
This was how Encrid perceived the inner minds of his company members.
Then, what about Ragna?
A blade that can cut through anything, but conversely, one that will easily snap.
He was anxious and precarious. He was the man who best embodied the word 'talent,' yet he was also the man who used his talent in the most unstable way.
Encrid didn't choose his words carefully. He didn't even bother to agonize over them.
"Because my heart tells me to."
He simply tapped his chest as he spoke.
Ragna froze. As if he had forgotten to breathe, he held his breath for a long time.
Watching him quietly, Encrid saw Ragna finally exhale slowly and speak.
"Is that the reason you want to become a knight?"
In childhood, it was a dream; in adulthood, an earnest goal; at one point, an illusion; and now, the path he had walked and would continue to walk.
The Knight of the End of War who would end the conflict—the song of the bard had become his dream. If he had to put it into words, that was the reason.
But if he delved deeper, sinking into his innermost self, it was simply what his heart compelled him to do.
Saving children, protecting the weak, keeping oaths—it was all the same.
How could there be only one reason to want to become a knight?
Therefore, this was the answer.
"Is my 'why' really that important?"
Encrid answered the question with a question. Ragna fell into thought once more.
His eyes were fixed on Encrid, but his thoughts were drifting elsewhere. Encrid could tell by intuition.
Rem, Audin, Sachsen, Ragna—they were all the same. They looked at him, seeking answers, gaining something. Esther was similar.
If he lacked even this much intuition, he wouldn't have become the leader of the Troublemaker Squad; he would have ended up as crow's meat in some forgotten corner of the battlefield.
"I'm going back in first."
A pleasant question, a pleasant answer—or so Encrid thought.
As he headed back inside, half-fearing that if he left Krais alone, he might conspire with Garret to plot an escape, Ragna's voice caught him.
"Let's have a duel once the fight is over."
"Anytime."
"With our lives on the line."
He meant they should fight in earnest.
"Anytime."
Encrid repeated the same answer and stepped inside the tent.
Left behind, Ragna quietly felt an explosion erupting within himself. It was like a volcano finally bursting. Something boiling, starting from his lower abdomen, struck and battered the area around his heart.
Why am I alive?
When the question of why he had to swing a sword touched upon his reason for living, Ragna had lost all motivation. He had become lazy. A lost sheep. Had he not met a shepherd, he would have lived that way forever.
"Let's fight."
Ragna spoke to the empty air. There was no reply. The man who would answer had already gone inside the tent.
Ragna focused on the sound echoing within him. It was the voice of his heart. The cry of his inner world.
Hey, can you finally hear me?
He heard it. The clamor and reprimands he had ignored until now rang out clearly.
From a certain point, facing an ordinary opponent brought him no joy.
It's just murder.
He had come to view clashing swords not as a duel, but as the act of killing people along a predetermined path. It was labor, not a contest.
Yet, he felt no guilt over killing.
If one set out with a weapon, shouldn't they always keep death in mind? Since the opponent also held a sword, it was something they had to accept.
Ragna had thought he would wander his entire life and die in some nameless field, but things in the world rarely went as planned.
You idiot, do you finally get it now?
Hearing the scolding from within, Ragna laughed. A smile appeared on his face.
"Ah, yeah. I get it."
He even muttered to himself.
Through his inner self, Ragna faced his desires head-on. He confirmed his longing. He had found his path.
He wanted to fight an opponent who made his heart race.
I want to fight someone who will push me to my absolute limits.
Sinar, who had stepped out of the tent earlier, had overheard their entire conversation from a distance. An elf's hearing was akin to magic, allowing them to ignore ordinary distances.
To her, Ragna's question was strange, Encrid's answer was strange, and Ragna, who was now muttering to himself, was even stranger. Everything was bizarre.
Yet, she couldn't understand why listening to their conversation made her feel so amused. Just listening to them felt refreshing. It warmed her heart. Sinar smiled without realizing it, experiencing an emotion she hadn't felt in a very long time.
It was a smile she would never show if anyone were watching.
*
Studying the map, Krais analyzed the terrain. In his mind, he categorized the most probable outcomes among the dozens of scenarios that could unfold.
It's still not enough.
Both their military strength and information on the enemy were severely lacking.
To win? No, this is a battle where simply defending is a victory.
It would be enough if the wooden palisades didn't collapse. Then, the answer was clear. Siege defense. Not an advance, but a hold.
No, that's not it.
If they only defended, they would lose. Unless Azpen was a gathering of fools. If they were fools, they wouldn't have struck from behind in the first place.
His thoughts chased each other in circles until they became tangled.
"This is why it won't work. Well, the best option is siege defense," said Battalion Commander Garret. Behind him, his guard, Nurat, muttered something inaudible.
Krais felt dizzy, wondering how many times he had gone through this in this battle alone. It would be so much easier to just run away.
Why do we have to defend the city?
Why couldn't they just flee?
The most important thing in the world was his own life. The second most important was Krona. Encrid was somewhere around third.
So, this was all because of the captain.
"Ah, whatever."
Krais finally threw his hands up in defeat. It was a strategy meeting that had started out of nowhere. Dripping with sweat, they had been talking for three or four hours already.
Looking back, he saw Encrid. He had seemed to leave, but he had slipped back in and was listening to the conversation.
"If the best option is defense—holding out until winter passes—do you think Azpen is crawling toward us without knowing that?" Garret asked.
"Yes, that's why I believe their slow approach is the problem," Krais replied. It was a process of finding an answer by repeating the same points.
This was the conversation Krais and Garret had the moment they met:
"Their speed?"
"Slow."
"That's bad."
"Very bad."
Garret said they were slow, and Krais said it was bad.
Why was it bad?
Because their slow advance, despite knowing the defensive advantages of this location, meant they had something up their sleeves.
Encrid, who had been watching silently, asked, "What's the worst-case scenario?"
"A fire-breathing dragon suddenly appearing over our heads," Krais answered without a moment's hesitation.
"A dragon is an exaggeration. That's impossible," Nurat chimed in.
Garret didn't stop her. Krais spoke again.
"Or knight-level forces suddenly popping out."
"I've tracked the movements of knight-level forces as much as possible," Garret replied this time. "Judging by their marching speed, they'll arrive in four to five days at most. In the meantime, we must organize and send out scouts while holding our ground."
Encrid also looked at the map. He studied the terrain and memorized it. His memory had never been bad, and with his experience as a Pathfinder, memorizing a few paths was child's play.
"What do we need most right now?"
"A variable."
The answer came immediately. If you don't know what's inside a container, you shake it. Krais thought the same, but what would the variable be?
Would they have to sacrifice troops just to see the enemy's reaction? That would be a foolish move.
Then what should they do? Strike their supply lines? That wouldn't work either. The enemy was thoroughly prepared. That was the reason for their slow march. They were literally marching at a pace where they checked, poked, and picked up every single pebble on the ground.
There was a continental proverb: If tapping a stone bridge doesn't work, go around. It meant that if you felt uneasy, you shouldn't proceed, even if it took more time. Thoroughness was more important than speed.
That was exactly how the enemy was acting now.
Therefore, the best they could do now was hold out, and the next step was to shake things up.
"Because sometimes, seeing their reaction reveals their intentions."
"It's a good method, but it won't be easy," Garret said, crossing his arms. Nurat supplemented his words.
"They are advancing very slowly, leaving absolutely no openings. We organized and sent a ranger unit to disrupt their supplies, but it was futile. Not a single person returned alive."
Encrid nodded. It wasn't as if he had any special trick either.
"We should rest and prepare."
That was the decision. Garret nodded in agreement.
"Once this battle is over, could you tell me some stories of your past?" Garret asked, approaching him after the meeting ended.
What was with this man? He was no ordinary person. Building the camp at Greenpearl and reorganizing the army the moment Azpen showed itself—all of it was this man's doing. His preparedness was remarkably solid.
"What kind of stories?"
"Stories of your fights, what happened in the Troublemaker Squad, the moment you finally became a company commander, the battle back then... all the things that have passed."
Garret's eyes sparkled. He seemed excited, like someone anticipating a great pleasure. Encrid scratched his chin.
There would be so many things to do once the battle was over. Though surviving first seemed to be the priority.
It was also something Encrid needed to think about. If Azpen acted like that, what could he do to give the enemy commander a headache?
"Sure, later," Encrid replied half-heartedly, his mind elsewhere. Garret was satisfied with that and nodded.
Was it a relief that Garret wasn't a traitor?
In Encrid's mind, the best move for Garret would have been defection. Wouldn't it have been much easier if he had sided with Azpen and pointed his sword this way?
Encrid asked without hiding his thoughts, "If fleeing and running away are your only options, and at best you'll be treated as a war criminal, why didn't you defect? Azpen must have made an offer."
It could be seen as a sensitive question, but Garret didn't mind.
"Romance."
"Pardon?"
"Because this is where the romance is."
What was romance to him?
Garret's dream was to be a poet. Originally, his talent for music and rhythm was quite outstanding. To such a man, everything that happened in the Border Guard was material. A story. Romance. His dream.
Especially the existence of Encrid—he was truly like the protagonist of a play. Garret was a lover of heroes. So, even if Encrid did nothing, Garret couldn't help but like him.
The more he dug into him, the more he realized Encrid was achieving one absurd feat after another.
"Living and dying like this is several times more interesting."
Garret laughed. In a way, he was a madman similar to Encrid. He was the type who wouldn't mind dying tomorrow as long as he got the inspiration to recite a romantic poem today.
Encrid didn't know all the details, but he knew intuitively that this man would not betray them. If he had intended to draw the blade of betrayal, they wouldn't even be sitting here like this.
"He's similar to you, Captain."
"In what way?"
"Well, up here," Krais said from the side, tapping his temple with his index finger. Finding that strangely annoying, Encrid jabbed Krais's head with his elbow.
"Argh!"
Krais clutched his head and rolled on the ground. Seeing this, Nurat helped him up, asking if he was alright.
"I'm fine. Ah, you're Nurat, right? Shall we have a cup of tea and chat?"
Even in this situation, he was hitting on a woman. Yes, that was Krais. Since he wasn't wandering around in a panic, this was actually better. Whether he was acting like this because he had half-given up or because he thought they had a chance of winning, Encrid couldn't tell.
Encrid stepped out of the tent. He intended to look around the camp that Garret had built. As he was looking around, he saw a group of soldiers gathered together.
They had lit a fire and were grilling something, and the smell was incredible. Approaching them, he saw long chunks of meat skewered on branches. On one side, they were brushing on sauce, and on the other, they were grilling. Their division of labor produced exquisite results.
"Mind if I join you?" Encrid squeezed in among them.
"Who's this? Never seen you before."
"I just joined today."
Most of the soldiers didn't know Encrid's face. This was a battalion specializing in supply. Everyone was doing something with practiced hands. Garret's unit was originally like this. His specialty was support, not combat.
"Sure, have one."
There was a female soldier among them, and she stared openly at Encrid's face. It was only natural that her attitude became favorable. Sometimes, Encrid's face itself was a weapon.
"Stop staring, you'll wear a hole in him," a soldier brushing on sauce teased.
"Hey, they're my eyes. Let me treat them for once. My eyes were rotting from looking at you guys every day."
"Bullshit."
Their banter was warm. The fact that they worked in perfect harmony despite the bickering was proof of their close bond. Encrid slid his rear between them. Even though a thick blanket was spread on the ground, the chill seeped up.
Soon, he put a piece of grilled meat into his mouth. Thinking it was snake meat, he took a bite, and the meat melted in his mouth.
"What is this?" he asked.
The soldier grilling the meat smiled and replied, "It's good for a man's... stamina."
Encrid judged that these guys were a cut above Martai's bread-baking unit. It tasted that good. On top of that, he realized one more thing: Garret managed his unit incredibly well.
Even if combat isn't his specialty.
The soldiers showed a sense of ease. It was a well-managed unit. Encrid grabbed a few more pieces of meat and ate them on the spot.
"You have a good appetite," the female soldier said.
Encrid merely nodded. He was too busy stuffing meat into his mouth.