Chapter 53: The Turtle and the Frontier Slaughterer (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 53: The Turtle and the Frontier Slaughterer (2)
"Interested in a transfer?"
Encrid hadn't even taken five steps out of the barracks before the offer came.
Directly poaching a soldier from within the same unit wasn't a common occurrence.
Is it because I became a Senior Soldier?
Perhaps. There weren't many Senior Soldiers or top-tier combatants in the unit to begin with. Or maybe there was another reason.
The Sorcery Breaker.
It was currently the name on everyone’s lips throughout the entire unit.
Being the center of such intense interest was a first for him. However, that didn't mean he was going to get swept up in the excitement like some green fifteen-year-old. It was pleasant, certainly, but precisely because it was pleasant, he knew he had to keep his head.
Encrid had experience. A career spent surviving on the edge of a blade until the age of thirty wasn't just for show.
"To the 1st Company?"
"Do you think I came here to put you under that idiot Palto or Rayon?"
Palto and Rayon were the commanders of the 2nd and 3rd Companies, respectively.
"Come to my unit."
Encrid’s promotion sparring match had left a deep impression on everyone. Among those watching, Graham—the 1st Company Commander in charge of the Heavy Infantry—had taken a particular liking to him.
Graham was famous within the military for his eye for talent. He was also rumored to be the next in line for Battalion Commander. His offer was by no means a light one.
The 1st Company, renowned for its heavy infantry, was the core of the Cypress Division and a fast track to the elite ranks.
But Encrid shook his head.
"I'm sorry."
It was a polite refusal, delivered without a moment's hesitation.
"A refusal? Why? If you're worried about friction with your current commander, I’ll shield you."
"It's not that."
Encrid’s response was exceedingly plain. There wasn't a hint of doubt in his eyes.
Graham furrowed his brow, then slowly relaxed it. "You don't seem to have any lingering attachments to this place."
"Is that so?"
Graham stared blankly at Encrid. As Encrid met his gaze, wondering if he should say more, Graham finally nodded.
"It looks that way."
This isn't a matter that can be solved by coercion, Graham realized.
"Well then."
Encrid pressed his left hand against his hip and bowed his head in a military salute. Normally, a superior would just nod to acknowledge it, but Graham mirrored the gesture instead. He pressed his left hand to his hip and returned the salute properly.
Then, he spoke. "Thanks to you."
Thanks to me?
As Encrid blinked in confusion, Graham finished his thought.
"I survived. I felt I had to say thank you."
The Sorcery Breaker.
That mist had been truly horrific. The more capable a commander was, the more keenly they felt the weight of that terror. The Elf Company Commander had spent the entire battle cursing the Battalion Commander under her breath.
Graham had cursed him just as much.
"That idiot bastard... that complete moron!"
He had literally shouted it in the heat of battle. When things were peaceful, a commander only needed to look out for his own interests. But when a crisis struck, their true mettle was revealed.
The Battalion Commander was a total hack. At least, that was Graham’s assessment. In particular, the way the man was subtly trying to claim credit for the recent victory was the most pathetic thing Graham had ever seen.
In the end, everyone in the unit who actually knew what happened understood the truth. The one who deserved the most credit for the previous battle was not the Battalion Commander.
The two men, who had been standing in a stiff salute, finally relaxed. Graham extended his hand first, and Encrid took it. It was a handshake thick with mixed emotions: gratitude, lingering attachment, and a touch of regret.
"Go on. And don't forget that I'm deeply disappointed."
"Should I send Rem in my stead, then?" Encrid joked.
"Not that bastard!" Graham glared, feigning anger.
The two parted with smiles.
He seems like a decent man.
This was the first time Encrid had spoken at length with the Heavy Infantry Company Commander. He felt a genuine sense of goodwill toward him.
Although his barracks were right behind him, Encrid felt like walking a bit longer. He wandered through the territory, taking it in for the first time in a while. Eventually, he reached the edge of the market in the center of the settlement.
Even in a military territory, it was natural for merchants and farmers to congregate. In truth, there were far more transient merchants than actual residents.
Border Guard was a frontier military territory. The number of stationed troops alone exceeded a thousand. If the ratio of soldiers to civilians were ten percent, the population would have to be over ten thousand. In reality, it didn't even reach five thousand, yet the territory functioned perfectly.
This was because it was a territory directly under the King's control. Thanks to royal support, the Border Guard could be maintained. But since they couldn't rely on the Crown for everything, they farmed the land, and merchants were encouraged to trade.
He had heard that the efforts to attract merchant guilds were paying off. Recently, several major guilds had entered the territory by royal decree, and the market was busier than ever. Big-Eyes had been babbling about how the innkeeper was grinning from ear to ear because of the influx of gold.
No wonder he's happy.
The place was genuinely crowded. When the guilds moved in, the service industry thrived. Moreover, one of Border Guard's primary industries was lodging.
A trading hub for the major guilds.
One of the advantages of having an overwhelming number of professional soldiers was that public security was rock-solid. There were more than enough troops for patrols and guard duty. As a result, it had become a major hub for various merchant guilds.
A territory with few permanent residents but a massive flow of people passing through. A military outpost that doubled as a commercial crossroads. That was the true face of Border Guard.
Encrid glanced at the entrance of an alleyway near the edge of the market—a complex maze of haphazardly built structures—before turning away. He felt as if someone was watching him, but when he looked closely, there was nothing.
Encrid turned back and walked toward his barracks.
After he left, a beggar with a filthy blanket draped over his head crawled out from deep within the alley. The beggar sat on the ground and began to beg, but the gaze hidden beneath the blanket was sharp—sharp enough that anyone who saw it would never mistake him for a mere pauper.
*
Even before he entered the quarters, Rem's voice boomed in Encrid's ears.
"Our squad leader is preparing to abandon us. Everyone, get ready."
That crazy bastard.
"Is that true?"
As soon as Encrid stepped inside, Big-Eyes ran over to him, looking panicked.
"No."
He flatly denied it, but the eyes of his squad members were fierce. Ragna spoke, his eyes only half-open.
"If you're going, I'm coming with you."
His tone was nonchalant, but the intent was clear. It would be one thing if Ragna actually followed orders, but the man was lazy by nature. He never listened to anyone. Was there any other unit that would actually welcome someone like him?
"Hmm. Well, unit transfers are common enough," Sachsen agreed, already scanning his own luggage. He looked ready to pack up and follow at a moment's notice.
Sachsen was relatively better than the others, but still...
He's no saint either.
He wasn't in the troublemaker squad for nothing. He kept his duty hours, but he skipped training constantly and often vanished into thin air, leaving others to hunt him down. While he seemed easygoing...
There's a limit to that. He's incredibly selective about who he respects.
He made his preferences painfully obvious. He was not the type of person to blend into a standard unit. Naturally, commanders who would welcome Sachsen were few and far between.
"You lunatics, where do you think you're following him? Even if they accept the squad leader, do you think they'd take you? You lot are poison to the squad leader's future. Stay put. Only I need to follow him. Trust me, I'll kick those two out and go with him."
Rem blocked Encrid’s path, puffing out his chest as he bellowed.
No, you're the biggest problem here.
Encrid let out a hollow laugh at the sight of Rem's broad back. The Heavy Infantry Company Commander would never accept Rem, even if he took the others. Rem had a history of beating up a superior officer from the 1st Battalion. Because of that, many in the unit didn't just dislike Rem—they outright hated him.
"You definitely have a disease in your head," Ragna said, lying on his side. He scratched his head vigorously; it looked like he hadn't washed in days. "I've seen several guys like you, and none of them made it past thirty."
"Then is it about time for him to die?" Sachsen chimed in.
It was a mystery why those two only showed such perfect harmony when they were being difficult.
By the way, was Rem thirty? Encrid stepped to the side to look at Rem and saw the corners of the barbarian's mouth twitching. His face was flushed with rage.
"Squad leader, is it alright if I kill these two so we can go by ourselves?"
Go where? And who are you killing?
"No."
It was best to stop them before a fight actually broke out.
"I'm not going anywhere."
As he spoke to defuse the situation, Big-Eyes nodded, looking relieved. "Really?"
But the others didn't calm down so easily. Encrid was about to physically step between them when there was a knock on the door. Their devout squad member was the only one absent, and there was no way he would knock on his own door.
It was a guest.
At Encrid's nod, Big-Eyes opened the door. "Who is it?"
Encrid turned around. Beyond the flimsy wooden door stood a member of the Border Guard. It was Torres, wearing the Eagle Epaulet.
"We meet again."
He raised a hand in greeting. Encrid returned a military salute, hand to hip.
"Can we talk for a moment?"
"With me?"
"Who else?"
Encrid pointed to himself, blinked, and then nodded. He turned to tell the squad to stay calm, but flinched in surprise.
Before he knew it, Rem, Ragna, and Sachsen had risen and were standing right behind him. Their movements had been so silent and agile that he hadn't sensed them at all.
"It's that guy with the sticky fingers," Rem growled.
Ragna and Sachsen merely stared in silence. Torres raised both hands.
"I didn't come to fight."
Gazes locked between the three and the one. The air inside the quarters grew thick and heavy.
Torres broke the silence. "They call you the troublemaker squad for a reason. You really leap before you look."
Torres didn't hide his displeasure. It felt as if a sword fight would break out the instant anyone was provoked. Right then, Encrid wedged himself between them.
Blocking his squad members' view with his back, Encrid spoke. "Let's step outside."
If an accident happened now, the paperwork alone would be a headache. As they left, he heard Rem snort in derision behind him.
Once they were a safe distance away, Torres furrowed his brow.
"What's wrong with them? Are they all sexually frustrated? Tell them to go to the red-light district if they're itching for action. Don't go looking for blood."
Torres had seen what Encrid had missed. The moment the door opened, Rem—the officer-beater—had moved first. With a single step laden with murderous intent, he had positioned himself behind Encrid.
Behind him was the man who had been lying lazily on the bed. Just as Torres thought the man was merely sitting up, he had stepped forward soundlessly. In that instant, Torres had seen an illusion of an impenetrable shield being placed in front of Encrid.
Torres had even lost track of the third one—the man with reddish-brown hair. Before Torres knew it, he was just there, staring.
Murderous intent had stabbed at Torres's skin. It was only natural for him to be on edge. It wounded his pride, but in that moment, he knew that if he had moved a finger the wrong way, he might have died.
To just three ordinary soldiers?
The skills of the troublemaker squad were famous, but he hadn't expected them to be this formidable. If Encrid hadn't stepped in, would things have turned ugly?
When he had faced Encrid before, Torres had only shown half of his true skill. That had been enough. But could he have done the same against any of those three?
The Border Guard was evaluated as having the best training and talent in the military. It was a unit that had proven its might time and again. It was only natural for his pride to be stung.
Still, business was business. Torres composed himself with a few deep breaths.
"I'll get straight to the point."
He had received an order, and he was carrying it out.
"Come to the Border Guard."
The direct forces, the Border Guard—it was an offer far superior to the Turtle Heavy Infantry. They were the Kingdom's elite, receiving orders directly from the Royal Army, not the Cypress Division. It was an undeniably attractive offer.
"What do you say?"
Torres's attitude overflowed with confidence. His pride in his unit was evident.
Encrid stared quietly at Torres before speaking.
"What does the Border Guard strive for?"
What could he do if he joined them? As a single soldier, where would he be heading?
Encrid waited for the answer.