Chapter 441: A Barracks Called a City
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 441: A Barracks Called a City
Hearing the full story, Aisia momentarily forgot her exhaustion and smiled.
She had been thoroughly vexed by their dwindling supplies. Seeing an Associate Knight personally step forward just to escort a few merchants showed exactly how dire the situation had become. It was an incredibly inefficient way to handle things.
Yet, Thousand Bricks was that kind of city. It was a place where even an Associate Knight couldn't afford to put on airs.
It had taken Aisia some time to adapt to the environment herself. The feeling she’d had when she first saw Sir Oara hammering nails with the flat of her shortsword was difficult to put into words. It was like watching someone plow a field with a holy sword.
And yet, Sir Oara always smiled.
Brightly Smiling Oara.
Oara of the Smile.
The Smiling Sword, Oara.
Sunshine Oara.
The nicknames used to refer to Knight Oara were all remarkably similar. She smiled often.
Aisia recalled Oara’s smile and immediately penned a letter requesting a few artisans, sending it off to the royal palace via carrier pigeon.
"You're the best. Handsome as ever, I see," Aisia said, shaking off her thoughts and giving a thumbs-up.
"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" Encrid asked.
"It’s a Sir Oara-style compliment."
It seemed Aisia's sense of humor had improved quite a bit. Encrid listened as she detailed the rest of the tasks he needed to handle, aside from Jack the Swordsman.
Apparently, one of the deserters had colluded with cultists to found a new religion—in other words, he had become a cult leader. Aisia added that the bastard had been established for about two years now. Since the group had grown to a considerable size, it was highly likely that actual cultists were involved.
"I want to hunt him down and kill him right this instant, but if a wave hits while Sir Oara is away, we're finished."
For the same reason, Aisia couldn't easily leave her post either. Because those damn harpies and monsters constantly poked and prodded at the city, leaving for even a moment would immediately invite a terrifyingly large-scale raid.
Encrid's arrival at a time like this was welcome in more ways than one. However, because this wasn't a simple battle but a hunt that required tracking, chasing, and flushing the targets out, Aisia didn't hold overly high expectations.
The leader of that new cult was incredibly slippery. If he weren't, she would have grit her teeth, carved out the time, and slaughtered him already. To be honest, if Encrid hadn't come, she had planned to find an opportunity to go and crush them herself.
They weren't even cult bishops—just clumsy bastards babbling about being cult leaders or gods. She could easily go alone, slit their throats, and come right back.
Encrid asked a few more questions, inquiring about the locations and sizes of the colonies, as well as the characteristics of the religious group. Aisia answered to the best of her knowledge.
"You saw the tavern in town, right? The owner there will know more than I do."
"He seemed furious about the prohibition order, though."
"He's actually known for being a good guy. Just go over, order a few dishes, and strike up a conversation. Oh, and there's something you need to watch out for with those cultists. I heard they have a swordsman who uses magic."
"What kind of magic?"
If they used spells, he needed to be cautious. They might spew fire from their hands or entangle his body in something like spiderwebs. Encrid had experienced all sorts of things while sparring with Esther. While sparring with a mage hadn't given him any grand new enlightenment, he had at least grown accustomed to fighting them.
That was why he asked, but Aisia’s answer was unexpected.
"They say a hole opened up in someone's stomach without anyone even touching them," Aisia said, mimicking a stabbing motion in the air with the edge of her hand.
She mentioned that a few of the soldiers had fallen victim to it, adding that if she ever caught those cultist bastards, she would punch holes straight through their jaws.
Encrid had gathered the necessary information, but these weren't the kind of guys who would show themselves just because he went looking for them. There were also three recently formed monster colonies to deal with. It wasn't called the Demon Realm borderlands for nothing; if left unchecked for even a little while, those crazy monster bastards would gather, build nests, and cause absolute chaos.
"Welcome to Thousand Bricks, the Demon Realm borderlands," Aisia said formally.
Encrid nodded calmly. Being in the Demon Realm didn't change much. It just meant there were slightly more monsters than elsewhere, which wasn't any different from his time in the Border Guard.
Aisia was a busy woman, and right now, resting seemed to be her top priority. The dark circles under her eyes looked deep enough for an evil spirit to be born from them at any moment. As an Associate Knight, she surely had confidence in her stamina, but too many exhausting events had piled up recently.
"I've stayed up for two nights straight. Because of those damn harpies."
If they had just invaded all at once, she could have led the troops to fight them head-on. Instead, they came in trickles, watching from afar, poking at them if they saw an opening, and fleeing if they didn't. No matter how skilled an Associate Knight was, catching a harpy that fled while casting spells was no easy task. It wasn't impossible if she set her mind to it, but they kept their distance and merely harassed them from too far away.
It would be one thing if the bastards came near the watchtowers, but they rarely approached the outer watchtowers or the city walls of Thousand Bricks. It was only when they saw the merchant caravan that the harpies had excitedly launched an attack, which Aisia had rushed over late to deal with.
Even so, Aisia actually considered herself lucky, since it was an opportunity to slaughter at least a few of those motherfuckers.
"Milio. Guide them. To the lodgings and the dining hall."
"Understood."
As Aisia left to rest, she entrusted the task of guiding them to the soldier named Milio, whom they had met at the city gate.
Encrid casually scanned the city to see if there was any commotion, like shouting or fighting. He was looking for Rem. However, nowhere seemed particularly rowdy. It was still just a moderately noisy, moderately smelly city.
Most of that smell was sweat. The sour stench of sweat-soaked clothes mingled with the humid air, creating a fantastic harmony. People training their muscles or swinging weapons were a common sight everywhere.
"On one, the monster's head!"
"On two, smash it!"
"Let's die with a smile!"
"Oah!"
A group of six could be seen conditioning their bodies while carrying a heavy log. The majority of people were maintaining longbows and crafting arrows. They, too, were dripping with sweat. It was just that kind of weather—the kind where sticky sweat poured even if one stood perfectly still.
The wafting odor wasn't quite a rotting stench, but it was deeply unpleasant and stung the nostrils. Dunchabel, whose brow had been furrowed from the very beginning due to her sensitive sense of smell, finally pinched her nose.
"The smell is awful. Do these people not wash?"
"Have you no conscience?" Encrid rebuked her.
"Why? I washed ten days ago."
Encrid resolved that if their lodgings had a bathtub today, he would dunk Dunchabel in headfirst. Ten days ago would have been on their way here; Dunchabel had merely reached a stream, dipped her fingertips in the water, and rubbed a few drops onto her face. And she called that washing.
"I hope the bathtub is sturdy," Encrid muttered.
Sensing something ominous in his words, Dunchabel took a subtle step back. Of course, doing so wouldn't change the outcome.
As a Frog Kin, Luagarne was accustomed to the humid air. In fact, she liked it. The smell was also tolerable. Since Frog Kin could naturally regrow severed limbs, their physical senses tended to be somewhat dull. If anything, she welcomed the damp environment. It was a trait of the Frog Kin race to occasionally half-submerge themselves in lake water as a form of leisure.
They weren't frogs, but they loved everything a frog would love. They snapped up insects with their tongues and considered rubbing mud over their bodies in a swamp to be one of the finest forms of relaxation. Luagarne recalled the special accommodations she had occasionally received at the royal palace out of consideration for her race.
"I wonder if there's a bathtub filled with mud."
Naturally, no such thing existed here.
"Mud, you say?" Milio reacted upon hearing Luagarne's words. The soldier with the deep, heavy voice still wanted to test his skills against Encrid, but for now, he remained faithful to his assigned task. He was a soldier who fulfilled his duty. "There is a swamp if you go past the west gate and skirt around the Gray Forest, but you must not go there. That swamp is always shrouded in poison mist."
That was a rather unnecessary piece of information, Encrid thought as he turned his gaze.
The sight of the city filled his vision. He had seen it earlier, but it was a unique spectacle. Houses were sparsely scattered, and the dirt road cutting through the city connected the two gates. Most of the buildings were constructed by stacking neat bricks to raise the foundation before building the house on top. The reason for this was that the ground was prone to flooding whenever it rained.
To avoid this, drainage channels had been dug all over the place. Most of these channels were dug with the natural slope of the terrain in mind, directing water from high to low ground. The most impressive among them was a massive drainage ditch dug right through the center, resembling a small, roofless cave.
At this scale, wouldn't it turn into a small stream when it rained? Had a giant come and dug this?
"That is Sir Oara's handiwork," Milio said, noticing Encrid's gaze. He was a quick-witted soldier in many ways. Though his tone was gruff, one could catch a glimpse of a kind heart.
According to him, it meant a knight had actually done shovel work. Should he be surprised? Encrid wasn't sure, so he ignored it. In any case, thanks to the absurdly large drainage ditch dug through the center, no house seemed to be at risk of flooding even during heavy rains.
Encrid observed other things as well: a general store, a grocery, a tavern, a few empty houses, a blacksmith, a shop displaying slaughtered meat, some shops that didn't even seem to be open for business, a solitary building with a half-broken wooden scarecrow standing beside it, and a shop selling stacked firewood.
"Merchants from the outside hand over goods and take Krona, but here, most people buy things using contribution points," Milio explained, choosing his words carefully. The way the city operated was peculiar.
"Contribution points?" Dunchabel asked, her voice sounding nasal as she kept her nose pinched.
Milio looked at her, nodded, and continued. "Yes, contribution points. You accumulate them by slaying monsters and killing demonic beasts. Or you can do things that help the city, like restoring the city gates. If you want a big payout, you can assist Sir Oara when she fights. Didn't you kill a harpy earlier? A spell-casting harpy is a rare variant, so that alone should cover your food and lodging for about ten days."
As Encrid reflected on this unusual system and looked around, he noticed that very few of the people in sight were unarmed. Everyone carried a bow. Every single one of them also wore a stripe pattern on their shoulder.
"Ah, those don't represent different units; they're like ranks. It's loosely based on the Naurilian Soldier Grading System. Once a month, a squire from the order comes to give instruction as well."
One stripe for low-grade, two for intermediate, and three for senior. Once the stripes started to bend, it meant they were a commander. It was similar to the system used in the royal palace, yet slightly different. Marking the shoulders for instant recognition was a good idea.
It would be convenient to apply this to the Border Guard as well, Encrid thought.
As Encrid scanned the city, he felt a strange sense of cognitive dissonance. The smell was foul, yet it felt comfortable—a feeling like he had returned home. It wasn't his actual home, but the atmosphere put his mind at ease.
The unpleasant, muggy weather remained unchanged. Sticky sweat still clung to him, enough to make him want to wash up immediately. It was the kind of weather that made him want to grab Dunchabel—who refused to wash even in this heat—by the head and slam her into a bathtub.
Encrid spotted two soldiers clashing with wooden clubs in a small clearing. They weren't fighting out of anger; they were testing each other's skills. Bare-chested and wearing only trousers, the two swung long wooden clubs.
The moment he saw that, he realized. This was not a city.
It's not a city. It's a barracks.
Thousand Bricks was a city in name only. This place was like one giant military barracks. He could understand why it had to be this way. It was to repel the endlessly attacking monsters and demonic beasts. There was no land to farm, nor was it a commercial hub. Excluding those who provided basic services, who else would populate this city?
They were all combatants. The entire city had been turned into a barracks. And who else could have done it?
Knight Oara. It was her creation.
"Now, you will be staying here, and you can have your meals on the first floor. If you mention you're the Demon Slayer, you're famous enough that everyone will recognize you."
It was a fairly spacious brick building. It actually looked to be in better condition than the place Sir Oara was staying. He saw a door covered in graffiti. Various phrases had been carved into it with sharp objects, like knives.
Everyone run. It's not too late.
May she reign eternal, for Knight Oara.
I will smash the monsters' heads. For the rest of my life.
Oah!
Let's die with a smile!
Encrid pushed the door open. If this place was a barracks, then practically every resident of the city had to be considered a warrior.
Encrid entered the building, where he saw the soldier who had been arguing earlier and the woman from the alley. Both of their attires were different now. The soldier was wearing shabby linen clothes and carrying food. The woman was fully armed. She was lightly equipped, wearing thin leather armor with a shortbow slung diagonally across her back. She looked ready to head out for battle or a mission at any moment.
"Welcome," the male soldier spoke, and the woman glanced at Encrid.
"They call you the Demon Slayer, but you're incredibly handsome."
Was this just the general atmosphere of the unit? Or had the atmosphere shifted this way thanks to Sir Oara? The woman spoke her mind without hesitation. At her words, most of the people in the dining hall turned to look at Encrid.
"...A man's face isn't everything," the soldier carrying the food muttered.
Luagarne couldn't help but step forward. "Not just his face, but his other qualities are excellent as well."
Nonsense.
Encrid ignored her and took a seat. Then, the woman approached him and spoke.
"I'm Rowena. A Squad Leader."
"I saw you in the alleyway earlier," Encrid said, his curiosity piqued.
"Ah, that was just a side job."
This was a city where everyone who lived here was a soldier.
"If you have any work, look me up."
Her words carried a double meaning. It was hard to tell whether she meant work by day or by night.
"That's not going to happen. It definitely won't," Dunchabel muttered, making a vulgar gesture.
Encrid ignored her and asked the owner, "Can we wash up here?"
"Eh? Yes. We have a bathtub," the owner replied.
Dunchabel tried to slip away, only to be caught by the scruff of her neck by Encrid.