Chapter 542: Now, Tell Me
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 542: Now, Tell Me
"Tsk, what a shame. We should've just left him behind."
"Hmph. So he survived."
"The Lord does not yet welcome our brother."
"Ah, I forgot about him for a moment."
"His limbs are intact. As long as they aren't severed, he's fine."
"Are Froks and humans the same? I do hope you are alright, Sir Ragna."
Ragna heard those ridiculous words just before he slipped into unconsciousness.
Thinking back on the voices, the last two seemed to be Luagarne and Ropode. The one in the middle who claimed to have forgotten him must have been Encrid. The first was the barbarian, and the one after that was the wildcat.
Cutting his train of thought short, Ragna forced his eyes open and spoke.
"One hand is enough."
He was filling in the blanks of his own thoughts: Even if all of you come at me at once, one hand is enough to handle you. In other words, he was telling them to bring it on, regardless of his injuries.
"There's no need to go cutting off your own arm, though?"
He thought he had only closed and opened his eyes for a second, but that wasn't the case. The ceiling was unfamiliar, and a woman he had never seen before was staring intently at him.
It was Anne, the woman who claimed to be a healer. She gazed quietly at the blonde knight and said, "Rest. You need to eat well, sleep for a few days, and take your medicine regularly."
Her tone was firm and sensible. Ragna nodded. Looking down at his limbs, he saw they were tightly wrapped in bandages. Though he was in pain, it was a far cry from the agony he felt before collapsing.
"Where is this?"
"The infirmary, though it’s still a bit lacking. The people they call 'medics' in the barracks don't have a lick of common sense. Half the alchemists making remedies are just putting on airs with recipes they learned over someone's shoulder, and the other half clutch a few clumsy formulas while spouting nonsense about them being family heirlooms. Still, there is one good thing—if I ask for something to be bought, it appears in a flash."
Anne rattled on as she ground herbs in a wooden bowl.
Before the war began, Anne had been assigned to the medical unit. Encrid had entrusted her to Sinar, but Sinar couldn't possibly look after her personally. Thus, Anne had ended up like a commoner attending a gala of noble children all by herself.
What did they call this kind of situation?
There was a similar tale in the old stories. Was it about a commoner girl with magic that transformed her at midnight, who fell in love with a prince and seduced him with a shoe? In that version of the story, after being harshly ostracized at the party, the girl got angry and fought back using her shoe as a weapon. Ever since, a saying had circulated: If there are no weapons at a party, just fight with your shoes.
She couldn't remember the details clearly, but the thought simply crossed her mind.
Fortunately, while there were people who stared blankly at her, no one tried to assault her or looked at her with lecherous eyes. Besides, being treated like a mere commoner only lasted for two days.
"Who did you say you were?"
"Anne."
A man with large, piercing eyes had come looking for the child the Captain had brought, and he had carved out a place for her. When he told her to speak up if she needed anything, Anne had nodded and spoken plainly.
"A private room. Tools and equipment for research. Books on alchemy, if you can find them. And if there are any alchemists staying in the city, I'd like to meet them."
At her bold request, Krais had asked her what on earth she did. Though his tone was a bit dumbfounded, Anne proudly declared herself a healer. At that, the big-eyed man began to look after her with a welcoming air.
Krais was no fool; he knew very well that the majority of those gathered in the city were pseudo-alchemists. Even if half of them were swindlers, he figured it was better than nothing. Instead of kicking them out, he focused on providing moderate support. After all, if you support these kinds of people, actual alchemists and researchers are bound to be drawn in eventually. You have to cast the bait to catch the fish.
Even so, he had felt a bit bitter about it. It felt like grabbing a handful of silver coins and throwing them down a well. These eccentric alchemists were supposed to produce results once they received funding, but they were all incompetent. It was into this situation that Anne had appeared.
"An apprentice of the alchemist Laban?"
"Yes. Specifically in developing remedies and treating illnesses..."
"I see."
After that, Anne's daily life became peaceful. If there was anything more she could wish for, perhaps it would be an excellent master? Of course, that was greed. In terms of skill, an alchemist of Laban's caliber was rare. Even just looking at potion-making, the brews Laban crafted were highly regarded.
Potions, which served as immediate remedies, were often called "a second life" on the continent. Indeed, some were even sold under the brand name Second Life.
There were two main types of such potions: those infused with divinity, sold exclusively by the Holy City-State, and those crafted by alchemists using secret methods passed down through generations. Naturally, the former was superior in both stability and efficacy. It was just that they were expensive and limited in quantity.
Still, a few potions from the latter category were famous. Since Laban had conducted his potion research with Anne, Krais saw her as someone capable of developing them. Though she knew how to heal, perform surgery, and set bones, her primary field was fundamentally alchemy.
Even if she might be a fraud, the basis of investment is trust, so Krais provided her with whatever she needed. Before long, Anne was given a private laboratory instead of a spot in the medical barracks, and an infirmary was established alongside it.
It was only natural that her skills were recognized. Even under Laban, she had often been called a genius. It would be wonderful if everyone with talent could seize opportunities and grow like this, but that was rarely the case. While some would display their talents, many others simply lived and died in obscurity, regardless of their potential.
In that sense, Anne knew she was lucky. However, her ambition to research healing for the sake of her dream was even greater, so she was never quite satisfied.
Seeing Ragna in this state had loosened her tongue. Aside from Ragna, the only ones seriously injured in this battle were a soldier with a sprained ankle and the Castellan. Since the Froks didn't need her treatment, this was the extent of her patients.
The Castellan had left as soon as he was mostly recovered, complaining that the infirmary was suffocating, and the soldier with the sprained ankle had no reason to stay. Thus, Ragna was the only one who had been bedridden with severe injuries.
There were others with minor ailments like colds, but the entire city was currently in a festive mood. The streets were buzzing with talk of the great victory and the title of the "Iron Wall." Unless they were gravely ill, not a single soldier was willing to stay in bed.
In any case, given the circumstances—and because Ragna's appearance was quite to Anne's liking—she had rambled on about her story. Hearing this, Ragna half-opened his eyes languidly.
"I see."
It was a response that made it clear to anyone that he didn't have the slightest bit of interest.
"Ah... um, yes. Right."
Anne was slightly flustered. Normally, shouldn't a man feel some sort of excitement when a woman as pretty as her showed interest? Though she thought so inwardly, in reality, Anne had never experienced a single romantic encounter. She had only learned about relationships from books.
Anne stared blankly at Ragna's languid eyes and his matted, unwashed blonde hair. He would look quite decent if he were washed and dressed. Right now, because he was injured, he couldn't wash or eat properly, leaving even his skin looking rough.
"My name is Anne."
"I see."
Having already lost interest, Ragna gave a half-hearted reply and closed his eyes. Watching him, Anne felt her heart throb—with pure irritation.
What is wrong with this bastard?
Even if he wasn't smitten, wasn't it common courtesy to state one's own name in return? The curses she had learned while training under Laban and wandering the continent almost burst from her mouth.
To Ragna, the girl chattering in front of him didn't even register. He simply closed his eyes. He had witnessed the outcome of the battle, but a certain scene he had seen left him deeply curious.
Just before heading toward the allied camp using his broken sword as a cane, Ragna had seen what Encrid did.
What was that?
Intimidation had become a physical wall, blocking the enemy. It was a form of Will he had never seen in his life. If his body were even slightly intact, he would have gone to ask immediately, but Ragna calmly recognized that he was in no condition for that. Now was the time to rest.
*
"Now, speak."
The dim lamplight illuminated only half of Sinar's face, casting deep shadows across her features.
"Was it Will?"
Encrid also saw the person sitting completely in the darkness beside her. The sly wildcat, Sachsen. Only his eyes gleamed in the dark, his presence so faint that it wouldn't be surprising if he vanished into thin air at any moment.
"You sneaky bastard. Light the lamp."
Whoosh.
Rem, who was sitting opposite them, brought a candle to the extinguished lamp and lit it. As the lamp and the brazier caught, the room instantly brightened.
With a bear demonic beast's hide hanging on one side and dry grass strewn across the floor beneath a gray carpet, the room was functional. There was a wooden desk, and against one wall stood an unusual bed built at a person's head height. It was Sinar's room.
Since Sinar had invited Encrid to ask about the "Iron Wall" he had displayed, the others had tagged along one after another. Not that the meeting place really mattered; even though it was Sinar's room, she didn't spend much time here anyway.
"Be careful with fire," Sinar said, watching Rem. No one knew why, but Sinar was always extremely cautious about fire, awake or asleep.
"No one here is going to die just because a fire breaks out," Rem retorted dismissively, snorting as he nudged Encrid's elbow. "Seriously, tell us. What did you do?"
"I am also curious about how you called my name, Brother."
Following Rem, Audin asked as well. Beside them were Teresa, Ropode, Pel, and Luagarne. Odd-Eye was just outside the quarters, and Encrid was currently stroking Esther's back. Naturally, she was in her panther form.
Esther purred. Since she hadn't been walking around in human form at all lately, he wondered if she had completely embraced her identity as a panther.
It was a leisurely time. The war was over, and they had spent the day drinking and stuffing themselves with food. Meanwhile, rumors of his new nickname, the "Sword of the Iron Wall," were already circulating.
Was that slightly better than "Demon Slayer"?
Amidst his stray thoughts, Encrid deflected their questions with short answers.
"What do you mean?"
"Playing dumb, are we? You're a real pro at acting innocent."
"What you did when you earned the nickname 'Iron Wall.'"
"Didn't you use a special trick when you called for me, Brother Play-Innocent?"
Audin had a habit of constantly changing the epithet he attached to "Brother" when he spoke.
Encrid synthesized their questions. While Rem and a few others who had reached the level of a knight showed mere curiosity, the look in Ropode's and Pel's eyes was different. Luagarne, in particular, had claimed a spot, driven by a determination that would have had her crawling there even if she were missing a leg. Her eyes gleamed not like a Frok's, but like a giant's.
Encrid recalled the situation and spoke.
"I raised a wall and mixed in Intimidation."
He couldn't explain the boiling Will, the heightening of emotions, and the resulting burst of omnipotence in any greater detail. Pouring his Will into it until it worked was all there was to it.
"Damn it, you call that an explanation?" Rem snapped in annoyance. It was completely incomprehensible.
"Hmm, is that all?" Sachsen chimed in.
Encrid's composure was something rare even among knights. Nevertheless, instead of Will, he felt a sudden surge of irritation welling up inside him. Scolding him for not being able to explain? At the very least, Rem and Sachsen had no right to talk.
"Brother, how did you call for me?"
Not only with the wall, but he had also done something similar by bursting his Will when he called for Audin.
"I shouted with Will infused in it," Encrid spoke in a more deliberate tone.
"I see."
Audin spoke with a smile, but his expression was somewhat stiff. The forced curve of his eyes, devoid of any real life, made him look eerie. Rem's criticism and Audin's expression were one and the same.
"I can't explain it any better than this," Encrid said again. Inadvertently, he felt what Rem, Sachsen, Ragna, and Audin must have felt whenever they tried to explain their techniques. You just do it, so being asked to explain was simply perplexing. And because he understood how they felt, he knew their reactions were also justified.
So, Encrid did the same. "So what do you want me to do?"
"Haha."
Surprisingly, Sinar burst into laughter. Ropode and Pel fell into deep thought, while Luagarne began to mutter with a dazed look in her eyes.
"A feat possible with a Will like Uske's. One cannot build a fortress wall alone, but if one has the strength, one can block the path with a massive boulder."
In a way, she had understood it perfectly. It was, quite literally, a feat accomplished by pushing through with the sheer, innate massiveness of his Will.
"So it's like spreading fear as if covering them with Grime's wings?"
"It's like threatening them by raising dozens of blades."
"There is no need to hold multiple shields, Sister. Standing in the way with one is enough. Of course, that shield would have to be quite large, thick, and sturdy. Though the wall our Captain Brother made did feel a bit soft."
As Rem, Sachsen, and Audin spoke, Rem chimed in again. "That's true."
"It was a rather dull blade."
They were all understanding Encrid's words in their own unique ways. In other words, it was the realm of geniuses. Meanwhile, Audin even went so far as to explain it to Teresa.
Encrid smiled and blessed the people before him. "You bastards are like the offspring of a human-faced demonic beast."
To put it briefly, he was calling them sons of bitches, but in a highly creative way.
Having said that, Encrid brushed himself off and stood up. They had gathered here by chance, but he had work to do this evening. He had originally come to see Sinar for that very reason.
It was a request sent down from Nauril.
"Let's go, Sachsen."
"Yes."
He wasn't going alone. Sachsen rose soundlessly.
"Sinar?"
"My unflinching fiancé who has given me laughter... yes, let us go."
It was a title that made "Demon Slayer" sound preferable.
As the three of them stood, Rem also moved, saying he was going to sleep, and Audin left, mentioning it was time for prayer. The rest followed suit.
As they went outside and threw on black cloaks, they looked exactly like figures moving under the cover of darkness.
"Suits you well. Three wildcats?" Rem sneered as he walked past.
Had they somehow ended up wearing black clothes for their late-night departure? Still, it wasn't as if they could set out wearing flashy, jewel-encrusted armor. It was hardly wise to attract demonic beasts that went wild for shiny things, nor was it smart to make their movements glaringly obvious.
This was, after all, a confidential request.
Encrid, along with Sachsen and Sinar, headed toward the outskirts of the city—specifically, in the direction of Greenpearl. There, a carriage painted black awaited them. Someone was already sitting inside.
He waved his hand out the window. Once the three of them boarded the carriage, the man, who had even put on a mask to hide his face, asked, "How is it?"
Encrid replied indifferently. "It suits you well."
Soon, the carriage began to move. Its destination was the border, toward Azpen.