Joining the Corps
Kallen would go on to spend quite a long stretch of time at the Besalak garrison.
When Lenart caught him trying to slip away in secret, she declared he still needed more rest and more or less forced him back into bed. Then, once word of his circumstances got out, Ellie joined in too, glaring at him with widened eyes and demanding explanations — and he was simply no match for the two of them on his own.
Thus began his involuntary confinement. And yet, it wasn't entirely unpleasant.
The failures and frustrations of the past few years still visited him in the form of vicious nightmares. But if he could just sit and gaze blankly at the garrison's pastoral scenery, he could recover at least a measure of peace of mind.
A little more time passed, and by the point Kallen's body had recovered completely — to where he could no longer make excuses to linger — the captain of the mercenary corps made him a most unexpected proposal.
"Join... the mercenary corps?"
"You heard me right."
Lenart nodded at Kallen's doubtful question. He could now carry on a fairly friendly conversation with her, but even so, the offer had come completely out of nowhere.
"It's about time you left the garrison, and before you go, I'd like to settle this business properly. So, what do you say? Not a bad deal, right?"
Even at her breezy grin, Kallen's doubts only deepened.
"I was under the impression that the Lenart Mercenary Corps only accepted women...?"
"Let me set the record straight... we've never actually had a rule like that."
Lenart gave him a light wink.
"The people who founded the corps with me just happened to be women, that's all. Then some ridiculous rumor spread, and men got cold feet about joining. Well, partly because our girls can be a bit mischievous and pushy..."
After an indifferent shrug, Lenart suddenly turned serious and jabbed a finger at him.
"Besides, don't you owe us for the treatment? And the cost of the medicine? You're not planning to clam up now that you're healed, are you? Shall I show you just how frightening a mercenary can be when someone stiffs her on a debt?"
"..."
"Kidding. We're actually short-handed lately anyway — I was thinking of recruiting new members. And here you are, saying you can handle a sword. Perfect timing, really. And also..."
Lenart chuckled, then leaned in close, as if whispering into his ear.
"Ellie asked me especially."
"She... what?"
"Honestly, it's a wonder. However did you win over that prickly little thing?"
Kallen had no memory of doing anything of the sort with Ellie. Now and then she would poke her head through the entrance of his tent to peer inside, and the moment their eyes met, she would bolt like a startled squirrel.
Then, acting as if nothing had happened, she would saunter back and launch, as always, into a lengthy lecture about her dazzling, glorious dreams.
All Kallen had ever done was nod along vaguely each time she finished.
"Well, I think I have a fair idea why... hehe."
Under those orange eyes staring him down point-blank, Kallen found himself averting his gaze without meaning to.
Having lived his whole life inside the tightly hedged walls of a great house, such straightforwardness was still an unfamiliar kind of feeling to him.
Not that he disliked it, exactly.
"But... I..."
"Looks like you've got quite a story behind you. Am I wrong?"
At Lenart's bullseye remark, Kallen flinched involuntarily.
Sensing this, she softened her tone, as if to put him at ease.
"That refined face of yours. The way you wandered the back alleys, yet somehow knew your way around a sword... Well, I won't pry. A mercenary's past is usually just that kind of past."
"..."
"Besides, you said it yourself — you've got nowhere in particular to go. Can't say it's a bad offer for you either."
Kallen's brow furrowed in deep deliberation. After turning it over at length, he asked cautiously, "So, being a mercenary... what exactly would I have to do?"
"Anything."
"...I'm not sure. I don't know what I want to do."
Even at Lenart's ready answer, Kallen only shook his head with a dark expression.
For someone who had spent his whole life chasing one absolute goal and then fallen from that summit, no word sounded more foreign than anything.
Then, suddenly, a soft warmth settled upon the bowed crown of his hair.
"Anything. Whatever you want to do, wherever you want to go."
Lenart ruffled his hair, then went on lightly, tossing the words out like a throwaway joke.
You could go exploring some hidden dungeon, or hunt down wicked monsters and witches. You could blow an entire fortune of gold and jewels in a single night of gambling, or drink yourself silly until sunrise and sleep in till noon... that sort of thing."
"..."
"Doesn't look so hard, does it? It's fine if you don't know what you want right now. Somewhere along the way, sooner or later, you'll find your own path. That's just how life works."
At the sight of Lenart's warm, kindly smile, a small ripple finally stirred in Kallen's heart.
He was still trapped in a fog, wandering without direction — but somehow, it felt as though that fog had thinned, just a little.
Was there truly still a road left for him, the man who had failed to claim Prominence?
A long silence followed.
At last, Kallen lifted his head again, his face wearing the look of someone who had made up his mind.
"I still don't really understand what you mean. But..."
Timid as his manner remained, a flicker of the brilliance he'd lost over the past few years had returned to his eyes.
He spoke then, in a small but unmistakable voice.
"I'll try it."
"That's plenty for now."
Lenart beamed as though she'd expected nothing less and held out her hand to him.
Kallen took it awkwardly. Their clasped hands stayed locked together for a long while.
"Welcome to the corps, Kallen."
Lenart's voice tickled his ear like a soft feather.
"We are the freest souls in the world. You'll understand what I mean soon enough."
Though he had Lenart's blessing, a few more steps stood between him and official membership.
The existing members' approval was one of them.
Contrary to his worry that they might be hostile toward a man, Kallen received an unexpectedly enthusiastic welcome from the mercenaries as well.
"Finally introducing us, huh? Honestly, that Ellie..."
"Kallen, was it? How old did you say you were? Where are you from?"
"I'm Aili, the vice-captain. Over here are Hess and Rosie from the combat squad. And those two are..."
"If there's anything you want to know, just ask your big sister here, nice and easy. My tent's right over there? I'm free at night, so later on..."
The members swarmed him as though he were some exotic, mysterious creature from a foreign land. Hands closed in from every direction, tracing his skin and brushing the fine hairs on his face.
Kallen simply buried his reddened face in the floor, which only drew an even greater response from the women.
"Since when are they ever that friendly with a man...?"
Even Lenart looked flustered, clicking her tongue as though she hadn't seen this coming.
The welcome celebration only managed to wind down when Ellie elbowed her way through the crowd and, for some reason, started loudly berating the members.
"You shameless hussies, all of you... corrupting an innocent boy."
Walking toward the training grounds, Lenart heaved a deep sigh and glanced back at him.
Kallen was still trailing after her with a dazed expression.
"Sorry. Quite a shock, huh? They didn't mean any harm by it. At heart they're good girls..."
"I-I'm fine."
Kallen snapped back to his senses and shook his head vigorously.
"...They all seemed like good people. They kept trying to take care of me, look after me..."
He simply wasn't used to that kind of stimulation, it seemed — his impression of the members was actually quite favorable.
Only then did Lenart relax, a little, and continue.
"...They are good girls. And poor ones, too."
"Poor...?"
"Every one of our members suffered through the war. Some lost their families. Some were captured and sold by slavers. Some watched demons or monsters raze their villages to the ground and survived alone..."
"Ah..."
Kallen felt he might understand why Lenart had allowed him into the corps.
She was nothing like the lawless, brute-force image that usually came to mind at the word mercenary.
Ellie's insistence aside, it was simply Lenart's nature to never cast out someone who had already crossed her threshold.
All that business about repaying the debt for his treatment and medicine was, to anyone's eyes, nothing more than a convenient excuse.
"I... heard it from Ellie. That she was sold as a slave once, and that you saved her..."
"What? Ellie told you that?"
Lenart's eyes went wide with surprise, then a gentle smile settled on her lips.
"Goodness. Seems Ellie trusts you quite a bit, if she's already sharing things like that so freely."
"I don't know about that..."
"Wouldn't surprise me. When Ellie first came, I thought she was a mute. She kept her mouth sealed tight even after joining the corps. The first time she actually spoke to me was months after she'd joined, I think..."
Lenart glanced back at him and chuckled.
"Having a friend her own age makes settling in easier, no doubt. Worked out nicely, then."
"She just gets irritated whenever she looks at me."
Kallen still looked unconvinced.
"Just a while ago, she said something weird and stormed off in a huff. Something like, if I go around smiling so freely at everyone, I'll get devoured before I know what's happening — what's that even supposed to mean? And she's got some nerve calling anyone... I wasn't even laughing, she just..."
"Pfft..."
"Honestly, I don't know where a girl that age stores all that temper. And her mouth is so coarse..."
"Pfff..."
"I've been thinking about it... maybe she only asked for me to join because she just needed someone to take her moods out on?"
"Ah-ha, hahahaha...!"
Lenart finally lost it and burst out laughing.
Kallen's face was full of indignation — but even that was a far better sight than the lifeless block of wood he'd been before.
"Ellie doesn't need a punching bag, dear. You saw her last time, didn't you? She'll snarl at me too if I cross her."
Wiping the tears from her eyes, Lenart went on.
"That's definitely not why she brought you in, so rest easy on that front."
"Yes, ma'am..."
Kallen nodded along reluctantly. Then, as if something had occurred to him, he asked her carefully, "So... then why did you start the corps...?"
"You can just call me Lena, by the way."
After correcting the honorific lightly, she paused a moment before continuing.
"...I had a younger sibling, when I was little. A little brother — not that he was particularly cute. He was a troublemaker through and through. If he'd lived, he'd probably be about your age now."
"If he'd... lived?"
"The witches who attacked our village offered him up as a sacrifice. Burned him alive."
Lenart's voice remained perfectly calm.
"Their master — a demon, that is — apparently had a taste for innocent boys who knew nothing of women. Anyway, that's how he went. I became a mercenary to avenge him. He may not have been cute, but he was still my brother."
"I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to drag up painful memories..."
"It's fine. It all happened a long time ago. And my revenge was finished ages ago."
While Kallen fidgeted, Lenart answered with complete indifference. Before long, she drew from inside her coat a bundle of red hair and shook it out.
"Red-Haired Trasi. That's the name of the woman who killed my brother."
Clinging to the ends of the hairs were grotesque scraps of what looked like flesh. Lenart tucked the bundle back into her coat like a treasured trophy and continued calmly.
"She was one of the heads of the Northern Witch Assembly. I roasted her alive over a fire, exactly as she'd done to my brother. She'll have gone to Hell by now, I expect. Witches like her bind their souls to demons in contract, after all."
Lenart carried as many nicknames as she did fame.
Kallen would learn later that her favorite among them was Witch Slayer Lenart.
It wasn't hard for him to guess that her placid, unflappable manner was the product of all the hard years she had weathered.
"...Your brother is surely in Heaven."
"Kind of you to say. I think so too."
By the time their conversation wound down, the two had arrived at their destination — the training grounds. Lenart pulled out two wooden swords and tossed one to Kallen without ceremony.
"Now then. Shall we see what you can do?"
A sparring match with Lenart was the final step of his induction.
After so long, the weight of a sword in his hands felt strangely unfamiliar. Taking his stance with a touch of nervousness, Kallen asked, "Um... what happens if I lose the match?"
"This match is to see what you're capable of. Winning or losing doesn't much matter."
Lenart shook her head.
"If your skills fall short, the frontline combat squad is out of the question — we'd place you in the second or third line instead. But if you've been lying, that's a different story, isn't it? Say, if you can't so much as swing a sword at all."
"...What happens then?"
"Hmm..."
Lenart fell into exaggerated thought. At last, she flipped her azure hair, laughed, and took her stance.
"Then I'll spank your bottom all night long and bury you in the support corps."