A thin branch and a single person. A lowered arm, the branch almost, but not quite, touching the ground. It looked like a sword.
A sword sharper and more pointed than any other blade. After that, there was no time to think. Everything happened in an instant, and it was over in an instant.
Enkrid saw an illusion of the battlefield. The moment he thought his opponent had moved his feet, he swung his sword on pure instinct.
Whoosh.
The branch in Enkrid’s hand cut heavily through the empty air. It cut precisely only the empty air. And the tip of his opponent's branch touched his neck.
Tap. 'How?'
He replayed the scene he had just witnessed. He had seen it. So it would be correct to say he was struck despite seeing it.
"It seems everyone has something to say when it’s over, so I will too. It was the timing," the man said.
The opponent had used the Swift Sword. And he used it like a textbook example of the Righteous Sword. He didn't move first, but instead turned Enkrid's downward strike against him.
'Not a counter.' Enkrid's eyes shifted to his opponent's feet. He saw the dirt floor, a soft semicircle drawn along the opponent’s boots.
'He twisted his body to hide his centerline.' It was a fundamental. In a way, one might call it a simple technique.
He twisted to evade, thrust his sword, and it was over. 'If this were a battlefield.' He would have had an experience similar to the first thrust.
Even though he believed he was on a completely different level than he was back then. Distant and high. The opponent's skill was vastly superior.
So much so that an ordinary person would have realized their limits and been consumed by despair and frustration. That was the kind of gap he displayed. With just a single brandish of a stick.
"You don't seem to be on the young side."
The man let his words trail off. It was a statement that contained a question, so Enkrid answered.
"Thirty. One more time?"
"You want to go again?"
A nod.
"Hah."
At Enkrid's nod, the man let out an empty laugh. Because, in his eyes, this fellow was not normal. He had shown him the difference.
He had stepped forward, colored by passion, but his limits were clear, so he had intended to break his spirit to prevent him from wasting any more time. Defeat is painful for anyone. And it would hurt all the more when facing an opponent of overwhelmingly different skill.
What does it mean to lose? What happens to one who faces defeat? They despair, they grow frustrated, they suffer.
Among them, there are those who refuse to accept it and struggle desperately. 'Is he struggling?' It didn't seem that way.
"It feels like you're stealing the timing of my downward strike. How did you do that?"
Instead, he was asking to be taught more. There was no hint of shame. Just like when he had first tempted him, he simply stared with eyes that held a silent flame, ready to burn through anything.
'He's a madman.' Despite this thought, the man took his stance once again. Even though he could see his opponent's skill and limits.
Still, he felt the urge to do it again. Another sparring match, and of course, Enkrid was defeated. He was defeated four more times.
He challenged tirelessly, and Polid’s swordsman accepted every time.
"You are not yet at a level to face him."
Jacksen offered consolation instead of advice, but Enkrid didn't particularly need any consolation. Losing, defeat, was something he had experienced countless times. He was broken by a talent younger than himself.
He was pushed back by a mercenary who had picked up the sword later than him. He had even lost to some guy who played at being a vigilante in his village. He had lost to bandits too.
During his mercenary days, he had also been defeated by a son of a bitch who proved that personality and skill were not proportional. There were countless times he had fled from monsters. Even when a harpy's claws tore out his comrade's heart, he had been busy running away.
If he had hung his head every time, Enkrid wouldn't be acting as a Squad Leader here right now. He was never hurt by things like this.
However.
"That was fun."
It was just enjoyable. Enkrid was being honest.
"... Sometimes, Squad Leader, you're just too strange."
Enkrid really didn't want to hear such things from his own squad member. He had brought Jacksen along because he was the most normal of the bunch, but was this one really a normal soldier either? The way he completely ignored Polid when he spoke was not normal from the start.
Even now, Jacksen acted as if Polid didn't exist. Whenever he had a chance, Polid would stealthily approach.
"You, soldier bastard, I've memorized your face. I am the next head of the Lockfreed Guild," he would say, only to be cleanly ignored.
"Hey, hey, you're not going to answer? What, are you so scared you can't speak?"
Still ignored.
"This bastard, I'll make you regret it with tears streaming down your face later."
Even then, he was ignored. Should he call it consistent? Eventually, Polid ended up complaining to Enkrid.
"Hey, why does that bastard keep ignoring me?"
He was being treated as if he wasn't even there, and it was driving him mad. To Enkrid, it looked like Polid was about to cry at the slightest poke. Feeling pity for the man, Enkrid offered some advice.
"Because you talk to him."
A wise answer to a foolish question. Isn't he ignoring him because he's talking to him? He shouldn't have talked to him in the first place.
Enkrid inwardly nodded at his own generosity. It was an exceptionally kind piece of advice. But Polid, who heard those words, trembled.
"You, you, you."
Seeing him unable to finish his sentence, Enkrid breezed past him.
"Soldier, you are a harsh one."
The company commander said from the side. But he couldn't have been any kinder. Although Leona, who was listening, did end up spitting out the tea she was drinking.
"Hmm, I'd like to say once again that I really do like you."
And then she left with those words. No, why was he getting this reaction when he was just being kind?
The repeated sparring sessions ended after a full day had passed. It was now time to wrap things up. The frontier garrison, the company commander, the nameless swordsman.
Enkrid had gained a lot. Though everyone, including Jacksen, was merely impressed by his passion. For Enkrid, it had been an invaluable time.
'Especially.'
The opposing swordsman had shown him what the Swift Sword was, how to deal with it, and what an opponent could do by utilizing speed. Nothing was etched into his mind like a bolt of lightning just yet.
'It's fine.'
It would be incredibly useful when he hit a wall. The morning of the second day dawned after he had washed off his sweat, warmed himself by the fireplace, and checked his gear.
"Squad Leader."
Krais opened the inn door. Behind him, the bald Gilfin was visible, and in Gilfin’s hands was a fellow whose face was half-smashed. He had been beaten so badly that recognizing his face seemed impossible.
"It's him."
The company commander recognized him at a glance. An Elf's senses seemed to be different in some way.
"Hic."
The foolish Polid hiccupped. Enkrid wondered what was going on in the heads of those under him, to think of making such a guy the head of a guild. 'Are they planning to set him up as a puppet?'
If so, well. If not, why would a swordsman of that caliber be there? It didn't seem like he was being blackmailed or anything.
"P-p-please, s-spare me."
The captured man drooled bloody saliva. The mixture of blood and spit dripped and pooled on the floor. He must have been beaten quite severely.
"This friend was a bit rough at first, but after a bit of conversation, his personality softened up a little," Krais said.
Of course, the conversation Krais spoke of likely didn't involve using his tongue. Fists, or feet. It seemed a knife was mixed in there as well.
Looking at his forearm, there was a cut. It was crudely wrapped with an old linen bandage, but the trace was clear.
"I am the leader. That's right. I was blinded by krona and caused this mess."
The man spewed out words he hadn't even been asked.
"Just a moment."
While everyone's attention was on the beaten man's mouth, Leona's voice refreshed the atmosphere.
"I'd like to have some people dismissed? The person in charge is Platoon Leader Torres, the elite soldier, correct?"
"... That is so."
There were many eyes watching. When Torres nodded, two frontier garrison members put their hands under the man's armpits. They headed upstairs as they were.
Soon, Leona, Polid, Torres, the well-spoken brown-haired man, and the swordsman who had sparred with Enkrid also headed up. Enkrid and the company commander joined the group and decided to go up together.
"I would like to ask you two to continue my escort."
At those words, Jacksen remained downstairs. More accurately, he seemed to have no intention of moving away from the spot where the Carmen Collection stiletto was placed. As everyone moved, Krais approached Enkrid, who was about to go up, and asked quietly.
"What's going on?"
"Are you asking because you don't know, or are you asking for confirmation?"
"Let's just say I'm asking because I want to get what I'm owed."
This krona-crazed Big Eyes. He worked, so it was only natural that he should be paid. But he couldn't give him the stiletto.
"You can have this month's expenses."
The moment the man was captured, Krais saw the corners of Jacksen's mouth twitch up slightly before stopping. Prying the Carmen Collection from Jacksen's hands now would be no easy feat. He had no intention of doing so.
Nor did he intend to make him work and then wipe his mouth clean. Enkrid offered the purse he was supposed to receive from the guild, that is, to Krais.
"That's what was promised."
What would Krais do if he knew the payment was the Carmen Collection? Would he still just let it go? In truth, there was no need to even think about it.
He would.
He would just let it go. Because that was something Jacksen coveted. Krais knew his place within the squad well.
Enkrid wasn't the only one who had learned how to survive among the squad. Whether it was Jacksen, Rem, Ragna, or Audin. If it was something they wanted, Krais would cleanly step back.
He wouldn't do something as foolish as sticking his hand in a leashed hound's mouth to see if it would bite.
"See you later."
Enkrid lightly pushed Krais's forehead and headed upstairs. They occupied a single room. In the center knelt the leader of the spy unit.
Torres stood next to the man, his hand on the hilt of his sword. There were three from Polid's side, and Leona was alone. When Enkrid stood beside Leona and the company commander, the formation was finally set.
As soon as Enkrid arrived, Leona spoke.
"I know he needs to be interrogated separately, but may I ask a few questions first?"
It was a question directed at Torres.
"Go ahead."
Torres's attitude had been the same from the first day until now. He was always stiff toward outsiders of the Border Guard. Leona didn't seem to care much about that.
She was the target of the assassination. She was more than qualified to ask a few questions, even if it wasn't a full interrogation. She was also the source of all the problems.
The guild succession issue was the starting point of everything. The man was beaten to a pulp. Leona bent her knees to meet the eyes of the man kneeling on the floor.
"Who ordered you?"
"I, I don't know. All I know is that I was to use available resources to target the Lady in the inn..."
The man trembled but spoke clearly. It seemed he had a premonition that he would be finished if he didn't speak properly.
"Do you see any familiar faces in this room?"
The man looked around. He glanced at everyone, including Enkrid, then shook his head. They wouldn't be foolish enough to give the order in person.
Usually, when orchestrating something like this, they would place a few people in between. From here on, it would be a time for interrogation. The one who targeted Leona was Polid.
If that came to light, the matter of the guild's succession would be over. That was what Enkrid had expected.
"My, it seems a few fools who were greedy for my purse got together and caused this mess."
Leona began to utter unexpected words.
"... What?"
The captured leader of the spy unit tilted his head.
"I didn't do it!"
And the foolish Polid showed off his wisdom. He spoke without even properly hearing what Leona had said.
"Who said you did?"
Leona shot back.
"Uh, ah, that's not it."
Polid's pupils shook violently. When did he slap her cheek out of the blue during their first meeting, and now he was acting like this? Enkrid thought that even if he were in Polid's shoes, he would have been thoroughly flustered.
In the end, Polid stammered, unable to form coherent words, spitting out the most foolish sounds one could make with a tongue. Torres furrowed his brow. The people on the guild's side, excluding Polid, were rather calm.
The situation was flowing strangely. Everyone had thought they would pin the crime on that fellow Polid.
"Bold."
The company commander whispered from behind, just loud enough for Enkrid to hear.
Bold? What was?
Enkrid didn't easily understand the situation. As he grew curious, his mind naturally began to spin and connect thoughts. There's always a reason when a person acts in a peculiar way.
Of course, his squad members, including Rem, often did crazy things for no reason. But Leona wasn't Rem. Enkrid re-examined the situation.
The Lockfreed Guild, Polid, Leona, the succession issue, the attack within the Border Guard, the frontier garrison, the captured man, the Azpen spies. He organized what he knew and looked back. It was only then that he realized something, and he inwardly nodded.
It was a part he hadn't thought of, completely engrossed in his sparring and training. The moment he understood it.