Chapter 326: It Was an Honor
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 326: It Was an Honor
Encrid had been left half-dead after parrying the knight’s blow. It took two days of agonizing pain before he finally began to recover, his monstrous resilience proving itself once again.
Of course, he was still far from perfect.
I still can't put any strength into my grip.
Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise that his shoulder had dislocated immediately after the clash. If he had held out any longer, the sheer strain would have wrecked his entire arm, starting from the forearm.
Though his physical condition was still poor, he couldn't miss the victory party. Or rather, even if he had wanted to rest, they wouldn't have let him. Those around him simply wouldn't leave him alone.
"Captain!"
Starting with Helma, the soldiers he had grown familiar with began visiting Encrid’s tent one by one.
"Want a bite of this eel?" asked the soldier in charge of the cooking.
"You were incredible, sir," a scout commander added.
There were also several soldiers who had previously talked trash behind his back. A few of them looked awkward, but they showed their faces nonetheless.
"It was an honor to fight alongside you."
They spoke in unison. Encrid stared at them quietly.
Those who had entered with excited expressions fell silent when Encrid didn't say a word. They couldn't even bring themselves to mutter a greeting. Silence fell over the tent. A cold winter wind blew in through the entrance, leaving a chilly sensation in its wake. The hairs on the back of several soldiers' necks stood on end.
Did I act too cocky back then?
I think I did. I'm dead.
The soldiers began to read the room anxiously.
"Uh, Captain?"
Unable to watch the awkwardness any longer, Helma spoke up.
Encrid looked at Helma without a trace of a smile. He didn't need to organize his thoughts; he was merely going to speak what he had always believed. However, he wanted to look at each of their faces before speaking. He wanted to speak with true sincerity, rather than letting empty words scatter into the air.
To look the other person in the eye, clearly recognize who they were, and then speak—this was something he had learned from watching Krang.
Encrid did exactly that. He acted precisely as he had been taught. Though his intense gaze brought the chill of a biting winter wind to those before him, Encrid believed that sincerity and truth were far more important than comfort.
"For me, as well..." Encrid began.
Did they speak of honor because he had parried a knight’s sword? To Encrid, fighting alongside them was a similar—no, an even greater honor.
How could it not be? They were the pillars of the army, men who had taken up spears to protect their families, their friends, and their lives. Among them, some might have taken up arms for just a few krona, but did that make them any different? In the end, the fact that they fought for the comrades beside them remained unchanged.
The bond of comradeship was not just an empty phrase.
That was why they were all the same. They were men who risked their lives to scout enemy territory. They were the eyes and hands of the army. Without them, he wouldn't have been able to fight the way he did.
So how could it not be an honor? For the same reason, there was no need to hide his respect for them. He simply opened his lips and spoke his mind.
"...it was an honor."
Encrid finished his sentence after a brief pause. Upon hearing those words, one of the soldiers smacked his own forehead. A sharp thwack echoed cheerfully.
"...Ah, shit, I’m an idiot," the soldier muttered. He was one of the men who had been particularly vocal in criticizing Encrid before.
Helma burst out laughing at the sight. The soldier looked at the laughing Helma and said with a solemn expression, "Go to him! If it’s the Captain, I approve!"
"What the hell are you talking about, you idiot?" Helma grabbed the soldier by the neck and locked him under her arm. Though he choked and gasped, the soldier didn't ask to be let go.
But was it right for them to call him "Captain" while ignoring their actual commander? When Encrid asked if it was alright, a middle-aged man holding a bottle of wine stepped up, claiming he had brought some good liquor.
"It’s fine. The Captain is the Captain!"
As it turned out, this fellow was the actual commander in charge of the unit. Even the commander himself was saying so.
And that wasn't all. Nurat approached and whispered to Krais, whom she seemed to have grown close with at some point.
"Is the Captain alright?"
Nurat was the direct guard and adjutant to Battalion Commander Garret. In other words, she should have addressed Encrid as "Company Commander." Yet she, too, casually called him "Captain."
Listening to the chatter, Encrid finally got a grasp of the situation.
"Hey, Captain, tell us some stories. I’m dying of curiosity about what you’ve been up to!"
Even Garret spoke to him like this.
Encrid had charged into the enemy lines alone and swung his sword. With that single act, the tide of the battle had turned from the very first day. There had been his disappearance and various other incidents afterward, but what was the most shocking sight in the eyes of the soldiers?
It was the back of a single man. It was the sword swung by a single man. It was the momentum created by a man named Encrid.
"The Captain’s Sword!"
Someone who saw him fight had given him that strange nickname, which was why everyone was calling him "Captain." And thanks to the medic who had treated his dislocated shoulder, an even stranger nickname was circulating.
"I heard they’re also calling you the 'Sword of Endurance'?" Krais, who naturally had sharp ears, told him what he had overheard.
It was a far too grand name for someone who had simply endured pain incredibly well. In reality, the title "Crazy Company Commander" circulated much more than any of those fancy nicknames, but nicknames were fleeting things anyway.
*
The victory party lasted for two days.
Encrid fully realized the importance of rest while recovering his battered body, and he dedicated himself to it. In other words, he ate, drank, and rested.
"Eel!"
"Trout!"
All kinds of seafood, roasted suckling pig, wine, and even expensive whiskey made the rounds.
"To the Captain’s Sword!"
"Drink till we drop!"
Garret held his liquor surprisingly well. Encrid had never lost a drinking contest, but Garret was truly on another level. Even after downing three or four bottles of strong liquor by himself, he sang in a clear, resonant voice. As if this were a common occurrence, several soldiers chimed in with chants between the verses like a choir.
"Ura!"
When the world calls upon us!
"Ura!"
They say we sell our swords for gold!
"Ura!"
And so we sell our swords for gold!
"Ura!"
We are mercenaries!
"Ura!"
Selling our swords for gold!
"Ura!"
Mercenaries who stake our lives on loyalty!
It was a song Encrid had heard before while wandering the continent. However, he had never heard it sung so cleanly. Garret’s voice was a natural gift. If compared to swordsmanship, it was a straight and smooth blade. His voice burst forth powerfully when needed, then wrapped around the listeners gently in the next moment.
Weaving through the soldiers shouting "Ura!", Garret finished his song, approached the seated Encrid, and spoke.
"I’ve already made a song for you, too."
Encrid tilted his head in confusion. A song for me?
"I’ll let you hear it later." Garret laughed, patting his stomach.
He had an appealing appearance and a matching personality. In other words, he was a genuinely good-natured man. Marcus hadn't stationed him here for nothing. Come to think of it, Graham, the Castellan and Battalion Commander of the Border Guard, also seemed to have had no worries about betrayal.
It was Krais who had worried. Encrid realized once again how useless those worries had been back then.
"Sure, I’ll listen to it then."
With a few drinks in him, a victory won, and new insights learned, he felt content. He had parried a knight’s sword, spoken of honor, and was now celebrating victory with those he could call comrades. He, too, was enjoying himself.
Seeing this, a few soldiers whispered among themselves that he was human after all. Well, of course he was human. Did they think he was a monster?
"You guys don't know him at all," Krais, moderately drunk, babbled loudly. "The Captain will play and drink like this tonight, but he’ll be training first thing tomorrow morning! I’d bet my balls on it. He’s going to do dawn training again. He’s a madman!"
In the middle of his speech, Krais slapped his crotch repeatedly. It was likely a joke, but he had literally wagered his manhood on the bet.
"Seriously?"
"If you don't believe me, place your bets."
It was a natural progression. Krais began collecting copper and silver coins from the soldiers. Encrid ignored it. Krais’s tricks were always predictable; there was no need to pay attention.
His eyes met Ragna’s, who was sipping his drink in a corner. Encrid raised his cup to Ragna, who gave a slight nod.
My thanks.
He had said it to the Ferryman, but it was something he owed to everyone, including Ragna. He had created the Crushing Sword. What if Ragna hadn't been there during that process? He would have found a way and walked it regardless—Encrid was that kind of man. But it was also true that Ragna’s presence had shortened that time.
No, he now knew that he needed that bastard around. To the point where, if Ragna said he was leaving, Encrid would ask him at least once if he was serious. That was probably why he had spoken to Sachsen, who had left briefly to take care of some business, as if it were only natural for him to return.
Is this my greed?
Keeping people around him. Keeping them close. Was that truly the right thing to do?
Do I need a shield to hide my pathetic abilities?
It was an extension of a thought that had crossed his mind when he was young. Of course, it was useless now. Pathetic abilities, indeed.
Encrid clenched and unclenched his fist. The pain was fading in real-time. It was thanks to his Regenerative Body, a recovering physique based on the Isolation Technique.
His body had changed. The sword he swung had changed. His mindset wasn't much different from the past, but the change was undeniable.
No.
They weren't a shield; they were friends. Comrades. Sometimes teachers, and sometimes members of the unit he fought alongside. He would ask them. If they stood at a critical crossroads, he would definitely ask.
No, he would tell them. That they could leave. For instance, what if it was a path where death was clearly waiting, like this time?
I will use today.
It was a mindset to utilize even the curse. It was an active direction, not a passive attitude like before. Even so, his commitment to doing his best to escape "today" would not change. But if they couldn't even interfere with that "today," he would let them leave.
That was the right path. Encrid didn't hesitate. There was no agony. He simply decided.
"Drink till we drop!" Helma shouted from one side, shirtless. She only had her chest wrapped. Wasn't she cold? Her abs were clearly visible, as were the scars left on her body.
"You're my woman!" one soldier shouted, acting cocky, only to get smacked in the head and punched in the stomach. He rolled to the side and threw up everything inside him.
Yeah, right. As if she’d ever be your woman.
Encrid let out a chuckle. For today, at least, he cast aside all useless thoughts. He focused on resting.
"Just as the body rests, the mind must rest as well, Brother."
Hadn't Audin said so? He even forgot about planning. For just one day, he thought of nothing. He simply existed in reality. He spent the unstoppable time of "today." Since today would never return, nothing could be more precious.
Encrid laughed, ate, and drank.
"I’m going to be a chef. A chef," the soldier who was good at cooking approached at some point and muttered.
Encrid played along. "Why are you telling me that?"
"Please come and buy from me."
Look at this guy’s business sense. He wasn't on Krais’s level, but he wasn't bad.
"I will."
"It’s an honor."
At the soldier’s words, two soldiers watching from the side suddenly chimed in.
"For me, as well..."
"...it was an honor."
Are they mocking me now? They must have lost their minds from the alcohol.
You punks.
Encrid laughed and smacked both of their heads.
"Argh!"
The two soldiers laughed even as they were hit. How dare they try to imitate him so poorly.
*
The next morning, despite sleeping for only two hours, Encrid continued his training.
It was just a light warm-up to heat up his body without overexerting himself, but several soldiers who woke up half-dead from hangovers rubbed their eyes in disbelief at the sight.
Drinking, eating, and playing like that yesterday, and then waking up at dawn to train? Is this for real?
But what could they do? Encrid’s body had become one that felt more comfortable active than idle. Naturally, Krais pocketed quite a few coins from the bet.
After three days of resting like this, Encrid had mostly recovered. It was time to return. Since he still couldn't walk properly, Garret had provided a carriage.
Just before leaving, Garret faced Encrid.
"Company Commander Encrid."
"Do you have something to say?"
Garret had been pestering him constantly to tell stories of his experiences. Of course, it wasn't a difficult task, but having a middle-aged man stare at him with sparkling eyes was a bit overwhelming. He had also mentioned making some song. Encrid hadn't heard it yet.
"Do you want to be the Battalion Commander of Greenpearl?" Garret offered. He leaned his shoulder against the carriage and spoke with a yawn. There wasn't a shred of tension in his voice.
Encrid had previously rejected a similar, or frankly, even better offer: the position of Castellan and Battalion Commander of the Border Guard.
"No, I won't."
When he refused immediately, Garret chuckled. "I figured as much."
"Why ask if you already knew?"
"Because I’m going to retire."
"Then why?"
"Because I think my successor is going to have a rough time."
When Encrid asked with his eyes what kind of trouble, Garret explained.
"If you’re in this position, the pressure from the capital is no joke. Right now, Lord Marcus seems to be blocking it from the center, but who knows how long that will last. Above all, the way things are going... it's a total dogfight."
Wondering what he meant, Krais chimed in from behind. "Are you saying a civil war might break out?"
It was another conversation only the two of them fully understood, but Encrid grasped a bit of it. It was good that they had repelled the external threat of Azpen, but from another perspective, it meant that this victory could trigger something else.
Naturally, it wasn't something to worry about right now. Encrid didn't care. At least, not for now.
The knight’s sword.
He was too busy digesting what had entered his mind. He spent the journey back to the Border Guard in a light doze inside the carriage. Since the Captain was indifferent, Krais was the same. He also believed it wasn't something that would happen immediately.
And so, in front of the Border Guard they had returned to, familiar faces naturally came into view first.
"You’re back?"
"Teresa the Wanderer welcomes the Captain."
"Brother, was your journey peaceful?"
Encrid truly felt that he had returned.