Chapter 669: The Charming Commander
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 669: The Charming Commander
If there is a beginning, there is always an end.
The gluttonous savoring of delicacies.
The soul-stirring joy of a melody.
The carnal desire between a man and a woman.
Everything has an end.
Encrid raised his forearm and wiped the nosebleed streaming down his face. The ecstasy of battle receded. Because he had savored the process rather than the mere triumph of victory, only a quiet calm remained. Just as he had calculated from the start, Penna had been enough.
"I thought you'd drop dead halfway through," the female swordsman said. She was down on one knee, her head held high.
The onlookers who had been hiding here and there, realizing the tension had cooled, began to gather.
A wide-eyed child raised her voice. "Did he win?"
The female swordsman answered in his stead.
"Yeah, I lost."
There had been no bloodlust or murderous intent from the start. It wasn't a fight to the death, but a clash to gauge one another.
It could easily be called a rough spar. That was why Encrid hadn't swung his sword with absolute, lethal intent either.
The outcome of a fight isn't decided by skill alone.
It was a truth he realized anew. Comparing himself to the swordsman before him, the advantage in pure skill lay with him.
But what if this had been a real battle?
She didn't show everything she had.
Of course, Encrid hadn't shown his full hand either.
"Why aren't you tired?" the female swordsman asked.
Encrid observed her face for a moment, searching his memory.
"I wondered where I'd seen you before."
"Huh? You know me?"
They had crossed paths once in the past. The reason it hadn't come to him instantly was that their encounter had been brief; the reason he remembered now was because her appearance had been so striking.
The fact that her features hadn't changed much despite the passing years was likely why the memory, buried deep in his mind, had resurfaced.
It was the day Gere and Pete—his mercenary comrades who now existed only as faint names beyond his memory—had died. It was the period when he had earned the nickname "the bastard who gets his comrades killed."
The swordsman who killed the bandits back then.
She was the female swordsman who had burst in just as he was barely holding on, surviving only through the sacrifices of Gere and Pete.
Looking back, that nickname of getting his comrades killed had followed him for a very long time. It was the reason he had eventually transitioned from being a mercenary to a pathfinder.
"Back then, I thought you were a woman dressed as a man," Encrid said.
It was probably because her hair had been short. Her breastplate had concealed her chest, so if she covered her face, it would have been difficult to discern her gender.
Now, her hair was much longer than it had been then.
To think he would meet someone he had briefly crossed paths with during his mercenary days right here.
"Really? It's my first time seeing you," the female swordsman said.
Encrid had met many people, but it had been a long time since he had been looked at so directly, without any pretense.
She seemed genuinely impressed only by his swordsmanship; his appearance didn't even register in her eyes.
"We crossed paths briefly in the past," Encrid said, sheathing his sword. His opponent had no further will to fight, and she was someone who had saved him once. Even if it hadn't been her intention, that was the result.
"Ah, no way. I'm really good at remembering faces."
For some reason, her words carried a strong scent of Ragna.
"Why did you attack?"
Encrid didn't press the issue of her not remembering, since it had been so long ago. It was clear she hadn't attacked to kill.
"Watching you made my blood boil a bit," she said with a grin. It was a smile and a statement that laid her inner thoughts completely bare.
To anyone else, it might have sounded absurd. It would only be natural to ask if that was truly the only reason.
But Encrid understood immediately. If one's blood boiled, such things happened.
"Crazy," Vengeance said, shaking his head from where he stood watching. To him, the idea of attacking someone just because your blood boiled was nothing short of insane.
Having survived a life where dying to a stray blade or arrow was a daily occurrence, his first thought upon reaching the present through battlefields of steel was always that he had simply been lucky.
And one of those times, Commander Encrid saved my life.
It was thanks to the man who had carried him out of a burning tent on his back while Vengeance was still pathetically harboring jealousy.
Encrid glanced at Vengeance, acknowledging him with a nod.
Since the security force had been summoned, the security captain had arrived. He must have rushed over immediately upon hearing the scale of the incident.
Vengeance gestured to a few archers who had nocked their arrows. The soldiers who had surrounded them before they knew it lowered their crossbows.
Encrid and the female swordsman had noticed the gathering soldiers and the surrounding crossbowmen, but they had simply ignored them.
Vengeance and the soldiers knew they couldn't control these two. But they couldn't just stand by and watch either, so this was only natural.
The Border Guard's security force wasn't meant to control knights, but to buy time.
The current situation was a stark reminder of just how lethal knights were on the continent.
A walking disaster.
That was what a knight was in Vengeance's eyes. If that knight had swung her sword recklessly, dozens, perhaps even over a hundred people, would have died here.
Of course, after that, her head would have been taken by Encrid's sword.
Furthermore, normally, no one would infiltrate a single knight just to commit such a massacre.
Knights were far too precious for that.
Besides, they were human too; if hundreds of arrows were fired, one was bound to hit. Even if they protected their bodies with iron armor, it didn't mean they could block a bolt fired from a ballista.
Audin might be able to, but an ordinary knight certainly couldn't.
They might dodge a few times, and then dodge again, but eventually, they would be injured or killed. Thus, such occurrences were rare. No, they almost never happened.
In other words, the words from her mouth were the truth. She had come for another purpose, but upon seeing Encrid, her blood had boiled, and she had attacked.
Encrid was currently reviewing the reason for the ecstasy he had felt while facing his opponent.
It wasn't clumsy. She's not a fake.
It was something he had learned through his experiences so far.
When walking the path of a system toward the destination of becoming a knight, if you set a predetermined answer, only 'fakes' would be produced. This was likely how the fakes produced by the Theocracy were made.
Therefore, one must not set a predetermined answer and force them to run along that path. A knight riddled with false beliefs and false will could not be called a knight.
At least, that was Encrid's perspective. Then what about the female swordsman before him?
This woman had walked her own path to reach where she was now. It was a conviction born from clashing swords with her.
"If you've subdued her, please take her with you, Commander," Vengeance said. He didn't seem particularly pleased with the current situation. Even so, he didn't forget his duty.
Was there no way to prevent knights from entering the city so easily? Such worries crossed his mind.
Or was there no separate means to immediately subdue a knight if they ran amok?
Listening to Vengeance, Encrid asked a question. He had just remembered that she had been looking for someone back then.
"Did you find the person you were looking for?"
"I think I did. I doubt there are two people with that level of skill."
The Border Guard's mad knight order had become famous. It was incomparable to its past reputation. She had followed the rumors all the way here, and only now did she ask:
"You're the Heartbreaker Encrid, right?"
Fuck, Pel.
Encrid believed that at least half the responsibility for that nickname becoming famous lay with Pel's big mouth.
Naturally, the other half belonged to Sinar.
"That is correct," Vengeance answered. Encrid looked at Vengeance. He wondered if it was a provocation.
"It's not wrong, after all," Vengeance muttered.
"And there should also be a bear beastman who tears people to death," she said.
The rumor was that the bear beastman tore apart manticores, tore apart people, and basically tore apart everything.
"That is correct. Though he is not a beastman," Vengeance replied again. He still showed wariness, but it wasn't as if he couldn't answer. He was quick-witted enough to know she hadn't attacked with the intent to slaughter.
"And there should be a barbarian who drools and splits open heads the moment he sees a noble."
Somehow, the rumors seemed to have a malicious tint to them. But then again, rumors naturally grew as they spread. In any case, Encrid corrected her.
"He doesn't drool."
"Oh, really? And what about the blood-crazed youngest? I heard he enjoys stabbing people in the back. I also heard there's an elf with demon blood here."
To be precise, it was probably an elf who hated demon blood.
"A witch hiding her identity."
There was that too, but it was slightly different.
Esther had even created a magic unit under her command. She hadn't made any particular effort to hide her identity. Even so, she was still called by the nickname Black Flower.
"And finally, a madman who slashes anyone he makes eye contact with. That madman has blonde hair and red eyes, right?"
That was correct. Ragna Zaun. Her name would likely be similar. Encrid was quick on the uptake.
"My name is Grida Zaun. I am the blonde madman's older sister," she said.
Encrid wasn't surprised.
He had once heard from Ragna that he had left his family on his own whim.
He hadn't heard the details. Ragna wasn't the type to explain things properly, if only because it was too much trouble.
The family's name was Zaun. A family that was more than worthy of being called legendary when it came to swordsmanship alone.
"Encrid of the Border Guard," Encrid said, extending his hand.
Grida took his hand, pulled herself up, and said, "Your skills aren't bad. By the way, what do you think of me?"
"...In what sense are you asking—no, don't say another word."
Right next to him, Vengeance was listening with perked ears, and among the onlookers, a hooded shadow presumed to be an elf was also visible.
"What do you mean, 'in what sense'? As a woman, of course."
Ah.
"As expected of the Charming..." someone muttered.
For the first time in a very long while, his old nickname echoed through the Border Guard.
"The Charming Commander."
"The Charming Knight."
"The Charming Master."
"The Heart Collector."
It seemed half of those blabbering were just doing it for the fun of it. Encrid knew that rumors only spread further if you reacted to them. He also knew that if he reacted, they would only chatter more gleefully.
So, he simply memorized a few of their faces with an indifferent gaze.
Clink.
Among the crowd, an elf dropped the bottle in her hand. She seemed quite shocked. Then, without even picking up the bottle, she vanished into the crowd.
Encrid watched her go, then said, "Ragna should be at the quarters."
"Okay. But are you really not interested?"
"I'm not."
"Ah, did you perhaps lose it in an accident?"
"Lose what?"
"You know, that."
Ragna's sister was a spitting image of Ragna in many ways. Her complete disregard for the gaze of others was one such trait. She raised her arm, letting her hand dangle limply as she shook it.
"It's intact," Encrid replied, his response coming much faster this time.
"Ah, then is your preference...?"
"Not at all."
"Ah, it's because I'm not attractive."
Grida nodded with a strangely convinced expression. She didn't seem particularly hurt, and she certainly didn't seem to care.
Grida asked again, "But when did you say we met?"
They had been conversing with blades just moments ago, but now it was time for a normal conversation.
For Encrid, this kind of talk was much better than debating the existence of the equipment between his legs.
"I saw you in the past when we caught some bandits after a camp was raided. You might not remember. It was over in an instant."
"I've done that more times than I can count."
"Have you been lost all this time?"
If she was Ragna's sister, it was highly possible.
"No, not really. To be honest, as I traveled around, I found there were many things more fun than looking for Ragna. So I was just playing around while pretending to look for him, but then more people from the family showed up."
"Is that why you said earlier you didn't come alone?"
"Yeah. They're probably testing everyone's skills by now. Well, if anyone gets a bit hurt, please understand. They're all itching to swing their weapons."
We would have to wait and see who actually got hurt.
"That's my line," Encrid said dryly.
After speaking, he ignored the chatter about "charming" this and that behind him and walked away. Vengeance dispersed the gathered crowd, and Encrid quickened his pace. As he entered the barracks, he found the inside in an uproar.
"You're finally back?"
First, Rem came into view. Beside him was a male swordsman with a grumpy expression. Encrid could see dried blood scabbed over the swordsman's forehead.
"Did you lose?" Grida asked the man.