“Is the reconnaissance I know different from the one the Squad Leader knows?”
Rem said, spinning the axe in his hand.
“What do you mean?”
“Because you look like you came back half-dead.”
“It's just a scratch on my side.”
“If that's a scratch, does getting cut mean you'd die instantly?”
Rem said and chuckled. This bastard hadn't changed. Then again, how could he have changed after just a few days?
For Enkrid it was months, but for them, not even a week had passed.
“I was close to dying.”
Enkrid said, feeling the wound on his side. In reality, he had experienced death countless times, but he couldn't just say that, could he?
“Let me see.”
Jacksen approached and exposed the wound on his side. Enkrid turned his body and lifted his shirt to make it easier to see.
“What would you know just by looking?”
Rem grumbled, but Jacksen coolly ignored him and examined Enkrid's wound.
“It's nothing much,” Enkrid said.
“The bone wasn't damaged, but underestimating a light wound can lead to trouble.”
That was true.
“I put some ointment on it.”
“That's a relief.”
Jacksen nodded.
“Looks like you had a skirmish while out on reconnaissance?”
Big Eyes said, looking at Enkrid's haggard appearance. His hair was greasy, and his eyes were hollow from marching on foot without rest after the battle. Throughout the mission, he hadn't had enough to eat or drink, let alone wash properly, so it was natural for him to look haggard.
'A skirmish?
I basically stirred up the entire enemy camp.' There was no need to tell them everything honestly, so he just nodded as if to say yes. As soon as he arrived, he had watched Rem and Ragna's fight and was drenched in sweat again, making his body weary.
So now…
“Got anything to eat? And water.”
It was time to eat and rest. In truth, he wanted to swing his sword right away, but there was a limit to what he could do in his current condition. And having seen the enemy gathered in the tall-grass field, it didn't seem like this battle would end just like this.
Therefore, he would likely have to step onto the battlefield again, so he needed to get his body back into shape.
“Go wash up. We'll prepare a royal banquet for you,” Rem said with a smile.
Enkrid nodded and headed to a nearby stream. It wasn't for nothing that the infantry camp was set up here. A stream flowed behind it, making it easy to get drinking water and to wash.
When he put his hand in the water, a wave of coldness washed over him. 'It's getting colder.' It was indeed the time of year when the temperature dropped.
Enkrid rinsed his face roughly, took off his clothes piece by piece, and washed off the blood, grease, sweat, and grime from his body.
'That guy.'
As he washed, the events he had just experienced naturally filled his mind. The tall-grass field, the ambush, past the flagpoles, and finally, the guy holding a sword and torch. 'I feel like we'll meet again.'
It was a premonition that they would face each other in an unavoidable situation. 'Is this that wall?' Hadn't the faceless ferryman said it?
That walls would endlessly block his path. He wasn't worried. If it blocked him, he just had to overcome it.
To be honest, he was even slightly looking forward to it. He was almost regretful that he had returned without settling the score with that bastard. Of course, the moment the score was settled, he would likely be the one to die, but still, he didn't want to avoid it.
He wanted to face him once. The moment he saw that guy, an unusually strong competitive spirit had welled up inside him. Sometimes, you come across people like that.
It was similar to falling in love at first sight, but in the opposite way—an opponent you desperately want to fight and defeat. After cleaning himself up and returning, there was warm soup, bread, and even perfectly grilled meat skewers that they had gotten from somewhere.
You couldn't call this a royal banquet, but it was certainly a rare feast on the battlefield.
“Rabbit?”
At Enkrid's question, Rem cleared his throat and stepped forward.
“I prepared it myself.”
“No, it wasn't Rem, I'm the one who got it.”
At that, Big Eyes glared.
“Right. Thanks.”
Enkrid sat down and devoured the food in the blink of an eye.
“I think this every time I see you, but Squad Leader, you sure eat well.”
“You have to eat well to have strength.”
“Squad Leader, you're the most peculiar person I've ever met.”
As if watching him eat wasn't enough, Rem crossed his arms and spouted nonsense. This was the troublemaker squad, and to be called a peculiar person by a guy whose hobby was assaulting allies…
“You're the last person I want to hear that from.”
At those words, Rem chuckled again. After that, the squad members all scattered. Jacksen left, saying he had something to do, and Krais left, saying it was time to do business.
The preacher squad member began to pray in a corner, and Rem chuckled as he idled away his time outside the barracks. He was probably throwing pointless jokes at other soldiers passing by. And Ragna was staring intently at Enkrid.
He could feel the gaze constantly.
“Why?”
Bothered by the stare, Enkrid turned his head and asked.
“Just looking.”
Ragna replied, half-lying down at an angle. When Enkrid tilted his head, Ragna said it was nothing and turned away. He seemed to have something to say, but Enkrid didn't ask further.
From his experience leading the troublemaker squad, he knew. Even if he asked now, he wouldn't get an answer. In cases like this, if he waited, they would usually bring it up again later.
If they didn't, well, he would just let it go. Since he had just returned from a mission, he was exempt from both night watch and meal duty. Enkrid ate well and slept soundly.
Jacksen's ointment was effective. The wound on his side healed quickly. At this rate, two days of rest seemed like it would be enough.
Just because Enkrid was lying down and resting didn't mean he was idling his time away. 'Ten out of ten, I'd probably lose them all.' While sitting, Enkrid continuously swung his sword in his mind.
His first opponent was Rem, then Ragna, and after that, the enemy he met in hostile territory. He pondered and pondered again. An old swordsman who used to teach the sword in a quiet coastal city had said, “If you don't want to die by a blind blade, you have two options.
One is to pray to the Goddess of Fortune until your hands and feet are worn out.” One was to leave it to fate.
“The second is to think, and think, and think again.”
Hadn't he said that if you survived a fight where you risked half your life, that fight would become an asset? It was something the old swordsman from the coastal city often said. Then, what must one do to survive a fight where you risk half your life?
Ponder. Think. Contemplate.
He had said to think of a way endlessly. If you were to face an enemy without any thought, then you would have to rely entirely on the first method. If you didn't want that to happen, you should ponder in your daily life.
'He was a good teacher.' It was advice that was perfectly suited for the Enkrid of that time. And that advice was still proving its worth now.
Enkrid pondered and thought. What must he do to win? At the very least, what must he do not to lose?
The desperate struggle to find that method was the Vallen-style mercenary swordsmanship. That swordsmanship, which some called a crude trick, was also Enkrid's core skill. Feigned Breath, the Three Sword Style which included headbutts, and the Vallen-Style Swordsmanship for throwing daggers or stones.
Once you've experienced them, they are absurd and empty techniques, but they worked well against opponents encountering them for the first time or those with clumsy skills. The Enkrid in his mind swung his sword. He took a thrusting stance and threw a stone.
He pretended to draw his sword and then threw one of his throwing knives. Rem swung his axe and knocked them all away, while Ragna used his footwork to dodge them all. And the opponent with the sword and torch ignored the flying stone, rushed forward, and thrust his sword, splitting his heart.
In reality, they might not move as he imagined, but at least in Enkrid's mental image, they moved that way.
'Again.'
He pondered countless times. Enkrid spent the whole day like that and then fell asleep. When he went to sleep, he was out the moment his head hit the pillow.
It was after completing a grueling mission. Fatigue had piled up. The next morning, Krais brought the morning rations.
It was watery soup, salty dried jerky, and crumbly bread.
“Is it your turn for duty?”
“Yes, you were sleeping very soundly.”
“I was tired.”
Krais rolled his big eyes and asked, “What happened?
Tell me.”
Krais, Big Eyes, was the battlefield's source of information. Enkrid was about to speak but paused, lost in thought. Then he decided there was no need to hide it.
It was something that would become known soon enough anyway, and it had never been classified as a secret. Still, he couldn't go into too much detail, so he just mentioned that the enemy was lying in ambush in the tall-grass field. Trying to explain in detail would have put him in a tight spot for answers.
“Damn it. If they've set up an ambush, they have no intention of letting this slide. But is there any point in ambushing us there?”
Big Eyes didn't know a speck about strategy, but sometimes he hit the nail on the head.
'It's meaningless.'
In fact, if the reconnaissance team's route hadn't been set to go there, they would have passed by without being caught. If he hadn't had the ability to repeat the day, it would have ended with the reconnaissance team being wiped out. An ambush is a tactic to prepare for an attack.
But our forces are not advancing toward the tall-grass field. Naturally, it's meaningless. That was what Big Eyes had said.
“We don't know yet.”
Don't know.
That was the correct answer. He figured the higher-ups were plotting something. However, it was certain that there was something.
That flagpole, and the guy guarding it. Just from the troop deployment, you could feel their full intent to annihilate any approaching enemy. Normally, they wouldn't operate their troops like that.
Therefore, the conclusion was that the enemy had prepared something.
“Tsk, I thought it would end like this this time.”
“An order will probably come down today or tomorrow.”
Not long after their pointless conversation ended, someone was heard shouting from outside.
“Move out. Fourth Company is moving out!”
It was the voice of the Fourth Platoon Leader.
“You didn't hurt your leg, did you?”
The man who had been shouting outside poked his head into Enkrid's tent.
“I heard you had a real hard time.”
“Where did you hear that?”
“The rumor is widespread. They're saying you're some hidden child of the Goddess of Fortune.”
Since he had attributed everything that happened to luck, it was, in a way, a natural reaction.
“Then who's my father?”
“How should I know?”
The Platoon Leader chuckled at Enkrid's joke and replied.
“You must be tired, but the unit is moving. We're heading east from our position, so let's get moving.”
At those words, Enkrid got up, dusting himself off. East was toward the tall-grass field. Since they knew about the ambush, they wouldn't enter the field.
“I think there's going to be a fight. The air has changed.”
Rem had suddenly stuck close to his side and said.
“Is that so?”
“Don't get cocky just because your skills have improved, or you'll get yourself killed. So be careful.”
Was he worrying, or was he cursing him? It wasn't just the Fourth Company, but the entire Infantry Battalion that was on the move. That meant most of the infantry forces brought out for this battle were moving.
Since a single platoon had roughly forty soldiers... It was a movement of roughly six hundred infantrymen.
Clank, clank.
With the sound of footsteps, the infantry moved. There was no battle that day. They moved and set up a temporary camp again.
They built fires and each took their places. Unless the commander had an arrowhead stuck in his head, he wouldn't issue an order to charge into the tall-grass field. So it seemed they were moving the troops to this vicinity to prepare for any contingency.
After spending a day like that, the wound on his side barely bothered him anymore. The next day, the order came down for each squad to handle their own meals. The six squad members gathered and boiled a stew in a single pot.
“I caught a lizard on the way.”
Jacksen added the drained lizard meat to the stew.
“What's this? You've done something praiseworthy.”
Seeing that, Rem was greatly pleased. Of course, Jacksen didn't talk back. Rem saw this and growled that he was being ignored again, but Jacksen ignored that as well.
'They seem to be a strangely good match.' The way one chattered and the other ignored him somehow seemed to fit together. In the army, just moving, eating, and resting was work.
And while moving and eating like that, Enkrid felt a strange gaze. There were eyes staring intently at him. It was Ragna.
“You're going to wear a hole in my face.”
When he said it casually, Ragna turned his gaze away.
“It's nothing.”
It certainly seemed like he had something to say. The atmosphere had become tense, as if a battle could break out at any moment, but another day passed. In his spare time, Enkrid tried to physically manifest the things he had trained in his mind's eye.
Some things were easier than he had thought, and others were difficult. As he was swinging his sword in a corner like that since morning, Ragna approached and asked.
“Why do you go that far?”
It was a question with no context. But Enkrid understood it perfectly. It's not like there were only one or two people around who were bad at talking.
Ragna wasn't the eloquent type either. He was the type to just say whatever he wanted. So, the listener had to be good at listening.
In that respect, Enkrid was the right person. Because he had a general idea of what Ragna meant.
Scratch.
Enkrid scratched above his forehead with his finger.