Chapter 79: How to Handle an Idiot
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 79: How to Handle an Idiot
One thin branch. One man.
His arms hung loose, the tip of the branch nearly brushing the ground.
Yet, it looked like a sword—a blade sharper and more pointed than any steel.
There was no time to think, no room to hesitate. It happened in a heartbeat, and it ended in a heartbeat.
Encrid saw a vision of the battlefield. The moment he felt his opponent’s foot shift, he swung his branch down, driven by pure instinct.
Whoosh.
The wood sliced heavily through the air, but it cleaved nothing but empty space.
Then, the tip of his opponent’s branch touched his neck.
Tap.
How?
Encrid replayed the scene in his mind. He had seen it happen. It would be more accurate to say he was defeated despite seeing it coming.
"Since everyone likes to offer a parting word, I’ll give you mine," the man said. "It was the timing."
The man used a swift sword style, utilizing it like a textbook example of the orthodox path. He hadn't moved first; instead, he had exploited the momentum of Encrid’s downward swing.
Not a parry, but...
Encrid’s eyes drifted to his opponent’s feet. He saw the dirt floor, where a smooth half-circle had been traced by the man's boots.
Twisting the body to hide the centerline.
It was a basic technique. Simple, in a way. Evade by pivoting the torso, then end it with a thrust.
If this were a real battlefield...
He would have experienced something similar to that first fatal thrust. Even though he felt he had reached an entirely different level since his mercenary days, the gap was still vast. His opponent’s skill was overwhelmingly superior.
It was the kind of gap that would make an ordinary person realize their limits and spiral into despair. The man had demonstrated that much with a single swing of a stick.
"You don't seem to be that young," the man murmured.
Since the words carried an implied question, Encrid answered.
"Thirty. Again?"
"You want to go again?"
Encrid nodded.
"Ha."
The man let out a hollow chuckle. To him, this fellow was clearly not normal. He had shown him the gap on purpose; Encrid had stepped forward fueled by passion, and the man had wanted to break his spirit to save him from wasting time. He wanted to show him his clear limits.
After all, defeat was painful. The more overwhelming the opponent, the more it stung. Most people who faced such a loss despaired, grew frustrated, and suffered—even if some struggled desperately against it.
Is he struggling?
It didn't look like that.
"It felt like you stole the timing of my strike. How did you do it?"
Instead of despairing, Encrid was asking to be taught. There was no sign of shame. Just as when he had first approached, he merely stared with eyes harboring a silent flame that could burn anything.
He’s a madman.
Despite the thought, the man took his stance once more. Even though he could see the limits of his opponent's current skill, he felt a strange urge to indulge him.
Another spar. Naturally, Encrid lost.
He lost four more times. He challenged the man tirelessly, and Polid’s swordsman accepted every single one.
"You aren't at a level to face him yet."
Sachsen offered comfort instead of advice, but Encrid didn't particularly need it. Losing, being defeated—he had experienced it countless times.
He had been broken by geniuses younger than him. He had been pushed back by mercenaries who had picked up the sword years after he did. He had lost to village vigilantes and common bandits. During his mercenary days, he had even lost to a bastard who proved that skill and personality were not proportional.
He had fled from demonic beasts and monsters more times than he could count. When a harpy’s claws gouged out his comrade’s heart, he had been too busy running for his life to do anything else.
If he had hung his head in shame every time he failed, Encrid wouldn't be standing here as a squad leader today. He wasn't the type to be hurt by a few losses in a spar.
Only...
"It was fun."
He was simply enjoying himself. Encrid was being honest.
"...Sometimes, Squad Leader, you are just too strange," Sachsen remarked.
Encrid really didn't want to hear that from his own subordinate. Sachsen was the most "normal" person he had brought along, but even he wasn't exactly an ordinary soldier. Ignoring Polid so completely was already far from normal behavior.
Even now, Sachsen pretended Polid didn't exist. Whenever he got the chance, Polid would sneak up and hiss at him.
"You soldier bastard, I've memorized your face. I am the next master of the Lockfried Merchant Guild!"
Sachsen ignored him.
"Hey, hey, aren't you going to answer? What, are your knees shaking too much to speak?"
Still ignored.
"You son of a bitch, I'll make you regret this with tears streaming down your face later!"
Total silence. Talk about consistent.
In the end, Polid resorted to complaining to Encrid.
"Hey! Why does that bastard keep ignoring me?"
Being treated like a ghost was clearly driving him insane. To Encrid, Polid looked like he would burst into tears if someone poked him. Feeling a bit sorry for the man, Encrid offered some advice.
"Because you keep talking to him."
A wise answer to a foolish question. He ignored him because he talked to him; therefore, he shouldn't have talked to him in the first place. Encrid inwardly nodded at his own generosity. It was an incredibly kind piece of advice.
Yet, upon hearing those words, Polid trembled with rage.
"Y-You... You..."
Seeing him unable to form a sentence, Encrid breezily walked past him.
"Soldier, you are cruel," the Company Commander said from beside him.
Encrid didn't see how he could have been any kinder. Leona, who had been listening, ended up spitting out her tea.
"My, I feel the urge to say once again how much I truly like you," she said, leaving him with those words.
Seriously, why did they react like this when he was only trying to help?
*
The repeated sparring sessions finally ended after a full day. It was time to wrap things up.
Between the Border Guard, the Company Commander, and the nameless swordsman, Encrid had gained a lot. While everyone else, Sachsen included, merely marveled at his stubborn passion, for Encrid, it was invaluable.
Especially the swordsman...
The man had shown him what a swift sword truly was—how to counter it and what could be achieved through pure speed. Although nothing was engraved in his mind like a sudden flash of enlightenment just yet...
It’s fine. It will be incredibly useful when I eventually hit a wall.
The next morning dawned. Encrid washed off his sweat, warmed himself by the fireplace, and inspected his gear.
"Squad Leader."
Krais opened the inn door. Behind him, the bald Gilpin appeared, dragging a fellow whose face was half-smashed. He had been beaten so badly that he was barely recognizable, but...
"That's him," the Company Commander said, recognizing him at a glance. An elf's senses truly were on another level.
"Hic."
The foolish Polid let out a hiccup. Encrid wondered what on earth went through the minds of the people under Polid to even consider making such a man the head of a merchant guild.
Are they planning to use him as a puppet?
If so, it made sense. Otherwise, why would a swordsman of that caliber stay by his side? It didn't seem like the swordsman was being blackmailed, either.
"P-P-Please... spare me..." the captured man groaned, drooling bloody spit onto the floor. He had clearly been beaten half to death.
"This fellow was a bit rough at first, but after we had a little 'chat,' his personality softened up quite a bit," Krais said.
Naturally, the "chat" Krais referred to hadn't involved words. It involved fists, feet, and likely a few blades. There was a fresh cut near the man's forearm; though it was roughly wrapped in a worn linen bandage, the mark was clear.
"I am the leader. Yes, that's right. I was blinded by Krona and I did it!" the man blurted out, answering questions he hadn't even been asked yet.
"Just a moment."
While everyone focused on the prisoner, Leona’s voice cut through the air.
"I would like to dismiss some people. The person in charge is Special Grade Soldier Platoon Leader Torres, correct?"
"...Very well."
There were indeed too many eyes watching. As Torres nodded, two Border Guard members grabbed the man by his armpits and headed upstairs.
Soon, Leona, Polid, Torres, the smooth-talking brown-haired man, and the nameless swordsman followed. Encrid and the Company Commander joined them.
"I must ask the two of you to continue guarding me," Leona requested.
At those words, Sachsen remained below. To be more precise, he had absolutely no intention of moving away from the spot where the Carmen Collection stiletto lay.
As the group moved, Krais approached Encrid and quietly asked, "What is it?"
"Are you asking because you don't know, or just to confirm?"
"Let's just say I'm asking because I want to get what's owed to me."
This Krona-obsessed Big-Eyes. Since he had worked, it was only natural to pay him, but Encrid couldn't give him the stiletto.
"You can keep all of this month's expenses."
The moment they had brought the prisoner in, Krais had seen the corner of Sachsen's mouth twitch upward. Snatching the Carmen Collection from Sachsen's hands right now would be impossible for someone of Krais's skill level, nor did he have any intention of trying.
But Encrid couldn't just make him work for free. He yielded the pouch he was supposed to receive from the guild—meaning, from Krais—back to Krais himself.
"That's a promise."
What would Krais do if he knew the real reward was the Carmen Collection? Would he still let it go? Actually, there was no need to wonder. He would. Krais knew his place within the squad very well.
Encrid wasn't the only one who had learned how to survive. Whether it was Sachsen, Rem, Ragna, or Audin—if it was something they truly wanted, Krais stepped back. He wasn't foolish enough to put his hand into a leashed hound's mouth just to see if it would bite.
"See you later."
Pushing Krais's forehead with a light tap, Encrid headed upstairs.
They occupied a single room. In the center knelt the leader of the spy unit. Torres stood beside him, hand resting on the hilt of his sword. There were three on Polid’s side, while Leona stood alone. Once Encrid and the Company Commander took their places beside her, the layout was complete.
"I know he needs to be interrogated separately, but may I ask a few questions first?" Leona asked, looking at Torres.
"Go ahead."
Torres’s attitude had been consistent from day one. He was stiff and formal toward outsiders. Leona didn't seem to care. She was the target of the assassination; even without a formal interrogation, she was entitled to answers. She was also the root cause of the conflict, as the merchant guild's succession was the catalyst for everything.
The prisoner was a mess. Leona knelt down to meet his eyes.
"Who ordered this?"
"I-I don't know. All I know is that we were told to use any resources to target the lady in the inn..." the man stammered. He seemed to realize that his life depended on his cooperation.
"Is there any face you recognize in this room?"
The man looked around. After glancing at everyone, including Encrid, he shook his head.
They wouldn't have been stupid enough to order it directly, Encrid thought. Usually, for a job like this, they would use several middlemen.
Now was the time for the real interrogation. The one who had targeted Leona was almost certainly Polid. Once that was revealed, the succession battle would be over.
That was what Encrid expected, but...
"My, it seems a few idiots who coveted my purse gathered together and caused this mess."
Leona’s words were entirely unexpected.
"...What?" The captured spy tilted his head in confusion.
"I didn't do it!" the foolish Polid shouted, proudly displaying his "wisdom." He blurted it out without even processing what Leona had actually said.
"Who said you did?" Leona retorted.
"Uh, ah, no, that's not what I meant..." Polid’s pupils shook violently.
When they first met, she had slapped him without hesitation. Why was she being so lenient now? Encrid realized that even he would be flustered if he were in Polid’s shoes. Polid could only stammer, making the most foolish sounds a human tongue could produce.
Torres furrowed his brow. Conversely, the other members of the merchant guild remained eerily calm. The situation was moving in a strange direction. Everyone had assumed she would pin the blame on Polid.
"Bold," the Company Commander whispered behind Encrid. It was barely audible.
Bold? What is?
Encrid couldn't immediately grasp the situation. He began to trace the logic, his mind spinning. There was always a reason when someone acted peculiarly. His squad members often did crazy things for no reason, but Leona wasn't like them.
Encrid replayed the facts: The Lockfried Merchant Guild, Polid, Leona, the succession, the attack within the Border Guard’s jurisdiction, the captured spy of Azpen.
He organized the pieces and looked back at the board. Only then did he realize what he had missed while he was busy sparring.
It was the moment he understood the game.