Chapter 149 - Feeling Honor

Between the leaves that grew high behind the platform, red and pink petals fluttered.

In the flower bed behind the parade ground, yellow flowers brightly showed themselves.

A flower bed in a place that reeked of sweat, of course, and where spears and blades crossed.

Had they said it was a remnant from when the Border Guard was still a trade city?

Even afterward, maintaining that flower bed was something like the duty of the Battalion Commander responsible for the city.

Apparently, that was proof the city was safe, or something like that.

Winter had passed, and spring had come.

Were these the first flowers he had seen in a long time?

"They're a symbol that this city is safe."

The florist had said that, too.

Several florists in the city were in charge of tending the Border Guard's flower beds.

Seeing the flowers made him think.

It was important to relax his shoulders, too.

Not to be too stiff.

Loose, but not slack.

He did not think it suited him, but perhaps he needed to look at flowers sometimes and let himself loosen up.

Once he relaxed his shoulders, the shape of the petals looked like straight, outstretched swords.

What was that flower called again?

The one with pointed red petals; he definitely remembered its nickname.

Sword Flower.

What people called a sword flower.

They had also said it was a flower that only reacted to the magic of spring.

As he looked at the sword petals, a question came to mind: *'When bringing a sword down vertically, how do I make it cleaner?' *

With that question, a journey of thought to find the answer began in his head.

That Mustache.

A man who had walked an entirely different path from him.

Something refined that he had never even felt in Ragna's sword.

A sword built by effort along with talent.

He had felt that against his skin.

So he wanted it. He wanted to embrace it. He wanted to possess it, swallow it whole, and digest it.

He still yearned, still felt thirst.

A sip of water to a traveler crossing the desert.

To Encrid, that was swords and knights, dreams and techniques.

'Slowly.'

If one ran in too much haste, was it not only natural to stumble and fall?

Besides, had anything ever gone well for him because he rushed?

There were things he could see because he did not despair or collapse in frustration even without talent.

That was neither haste nor leisure.

A midpoint between two opposing speeds.

Loose, but not slack.

Because of that, he could run as fast as possible at the speed he himself was capable of.

Thinking this and that, Encrid moved up onto the platform.

The end of his thoughts was the platform.

Marcus stood before him.

They faced each other and looked.

Their gazes met. The corners of Marcus's eyes curved gently.

They were eyes like he was playing some amusing prank.

The parade ground was quiet.

How to put it?

The atmosphere itself was different.

Warm sunlight shone, and a warm breeze blew through it.

The petals swayed with the warm breeze.

It was a peaceful and hushed afternoon.

He remembered when Audin's divinity had touched his body.

The comfort from that time wrapped around the surroundings.

"I thought long and hard."

Marcus opened his mouth.

His voice rang out in the quiet.

It was not loud enough to reach every corner of the parade ground.

Only the people nearby could hear it.

"About what, sir?"

Standing straight, Encrid answered.

"About what would satisfy you, about what I should give a soldier who has built such great merit."

At those words, good swords and crona and the like briefly came to Encrid's mind.

But would he truly be satisfied with that?

Surely not, not at all.

It would be moderately enjoyable, though.

If he took it one step further?

'Magic armor?'

He now had a rough idea of the value of the leather armor wrapped around his body. He also knew that value was slowly falling.

Spells were not eternal and indestructible.

He had heard that magic arms had limits.

It was merely something he had heard in passing, so he had wondered if it was true.

But had it not been proven when he actually used it?

The leather armor did not have much life left.

The leather gauntlets also seemed like something similar to magic arms. If not, how could such durability make sense?

If not for these gauntlets, when he fought the Frog, he would not have lost his wrist; he would have lost one hand.

'That is horrible just to think about.'

If he died after losing one wrist, would he not end up something like a one-armed swordsman?

Losing a wrist would be better than losing an arm, of course.

No, both were the worst.

Thinking about it now, there were more than one or two things he needed to be careful about.

Losing his life? It was painful, but rather, that was something to welcome.

But if he suffered a fatal wound to his body and crossed from today into tomorrow.

'There would be a lot to think about.'

That did not mean Encrid thought deeply on it.

He was not the type to use his head that much in the first place.

In truth, he did not have the room to do so either.

'Idle thoughts.'

It was not just relaxing his shoulders; these were distracting idle thoughts.

He forgot them. Even if he devoted himself entirely to the sword and his dream, it would still not be enough.

Could he truly become a knight?

It was a question he still held, and there was no answer yet.

"So I thought."

Marcus continued. Encrid focused on the man before him.

He was listening. It was the posture of someone listening properly.

"That I, too, should give a sincere gift. You may look forward to it, Platoon Commander."

The word "look forward" came out.

Encrid knew himself well enough to know he would not show feeling over most things.

Honestly, he had no expectations.

After that, Battalion Commander Marcus gave him crona and a splendid dagger.

It was said to be a dagger granted only to those who had accomplished great feats for the royal family.

When he received it, its balance was terrible. It had no practicality and was merely a dagger for proving one's status.

"By granting you the royal dagger, your status is guaranteed. Whenever you present it in the capital, you may become a guest of the royal family."

Encrid truly thought it was nothing special.

Sincerely.

But the soldiers watching below the platform thought differently.

"... Encrid."

"Encrid."

"Encrid."

There were no childish cries of hurrah.

Every soldier simply chanted Encrid's name.

Without cheers or battle cries, only murmuring.

Everyday muttering.

Words coming from their mouths.

Yet when hundreds of soldiers spoke as one.

"Encrid."

It struck his ears like a roar.

"Heh heh, somehow they seem happier than you are. Turn around and look."

At Marcus's words, Encrid turned his body.

It was quite an amusing sight.

Ten days since the end of the battlefield, since they had returned to the city.

It did feel as if he had grown closer to those in the unit than before.

Those who had once looked at him and spewed vulgar talk about offering their asses lowered their heads.

Those who saw him for the first time sent gazes of respect and admiration.

He had already been acknowledged on the battlefield.

At that time, the Battalion Commander had ordered cheers to be raised.

Who had those cheers been for?

He had thought it was truly not a bad experience.

But this was different again.

The platform was high. Exactly the height of one person.

So he could look down from above.

At the heat all the soldiers gave off.

At that heat taking shape, as if it were wrapping around him.

When he realized anew that what he had accomplished had created this moment.

"What is a knight made of?"

Skill? If one was merely good with a sword, they said that was not a knight.

"If that was what you wanted, you should have worked as a mercenary."

The words a swordsmanship instructor in some city had said still remained in his mind.

Back then, he had asked.

What is a knight made of?

What does one see to call someone a knight?

"Skill is a given."

A person who proves himself by piling honor and achievement atop skill.

"Though things have changed somewhat these days, in the past, when tracing history back and speaking of legends, that was right."

Had he simply wanted to become someone who swung a sword well?

No, he had not. His childhood dream had begun that way, but.

He had grown older and confirmed the limits of his talent.

He had taken a sword from someone far younger than himself and ended up with a hole in his stomach.

He had lost comrades.

He had realized skill and character were not proportional.

And even knowing his limits, he had swung his sword. With only one heart, as though this very moment were the last.

As though living a today without tomorrow.

He had thrown himself into the waves of repeating time.

Though swept up by the waves, even then he had not forgotten the sword. He had held on to a faded and torn dream.

Where had the heart that had supported Encrid through that long time begun?

A knight was someone who upheld the standard he had chosen for himself.

Encrid believed that.

One who moved forward without forgetting honor.

He had decided to become that.

So perhaps it was only natural that a place like this made him happy.

Standing before them, proving himself.

Feeling honor.

"Interesting."

Encrid murmured quietly. From his voice alone, it was hard to feel any emotion.

But Marcus, standing behind him, felt something unfamiliar in Encrid's words.

It was the same as before.

Something he had forgotten for a while.

Sword and light.

'Is it passion?'

Marcus smiled. He thought the man truly was an interesting fellow.

That was why he was very curious what effect the gift he had prepared would have on the man before him.

"That is all."

Marcus said.

Encrid turned around and gave a military salute.

"Encrid."

He stepped down among the soldiers chanting the same name as if murmuring it. Between the soldiers who moved aside to the left and right, a path opened.

"Must be nice."

He saw his own platoon members welcoming him.

Rem grinning with a broad smile.

Jaxon watching him indifferently while standing with his weight on one leg.

"You were like an incarnation answering prayers. Brother."

Audin said something difficult to understand.

"Are we going back now?"

Ragna, who was bored with this kind of event itself.

"Nice."

Krais, who had no interest unless it seemed like crona were involved.

Beside him, Andrew and Mac called his name with flushed faces.

"Encrid."

"Platoon Commander."

Mm, this was more than simply not bad. If this were not enjoyable, that would be strange too.

"Let's go back."

That said, nothing changed.

Ten days since they had returned, the Border Guard was quiet.

The rewarding of merit was over. Then what should he do?

Training, of course. He was just in the middle of thinking about how to swing his sword.

"Hey, tonight is a party. Let's eat until we die!"

On the platform, Marcus revealed his true feelings. No, was it fine for a Battalion Commander to be that reckless?

Were the people standing behind him not nobles?

Sure enough, in Encrid's eyes as he turned around, he saw a group of nobles frowning.

And yet somehow, no one stepped forward to say anything.

What was this?

Had he told them he would cut off their heads if they stepped forward?

'No, that is something a guy like Rem would do.'

Marcus was a commander from the capital.

There would be no reason or need for him to do something that reckless.

Then why were they reacting like that?

Encrid decided to ignore the circumstances of nobles and the like right there.

In truth, there was no need to dig into it. What would he do with knowing?

It was not as if anything would change even if he knew.

"Party!"

"Woo-hoo!"

"Good! Good!"

The crowd of soldiers shouted. It felt as if his eardrums would tear.

"Well, will they bring out anything good? If they do all this and only hand out cheap wine, I think I'll want to split that bastard's head open with my axe."

At the word party, Rem spoke with a grin.

But this bastard looked happy again.

The problem was that whenever he was in a good mood, he wanted to split open a superior's head.

'No, should I be glad that it is not my head?'

Thinking about it, Rem did not seem to have ever seriously said he wanted to split open his head.

Though he had sometimes joked that he wanted to split it open and see what was inside.

That had not been said with sincerity.

"Annoying."

Ragna voiced his honest feelings.

Encrid wanted to cast one vote in favor of Ragna's feelings.

He wanted to train.

He wanted to make the sword of Mustache, which he had seen with his eyes and experienced with his body, part of himself as soon as even a day earlier.

"With a stiff head, you can only see stiff things. When it is time to rest, you should rest."

Just as he was thinking that, Jaxon spoke beside him. Was it thanks to his sharp senses?

It seemed he had noticed Encrid's state.

"Everyone, please rest well. Uh, I'll be back in a bit."

Krais's voice came from behind, but it grew farther away in real time. It was because he spoke while running.

When a party opened, what naturally opened with it was a gambling den.

Then, well, it was Krais's playing field.

His purpose was not to actually gamble, but to grow the table and take a fee.

Krais still could not understand people who wasted crona on gambling and the like.

"No, I mean, isn't that right? Why throw crona at randomly drawn cards? Why? If you meet a gambler, it won't even be random, and you'll definitely get cleaned out."

There was no reason to spend crona on gambling. It was reasonable in its own way.

Krais disappeared among the crowd of soldiers.

Encrid looked at Krais's back as he vanished. It felt rather awkward anew that the soldier with only big eyes had pulled out such an ingenious strategy.

"It seems there will be no need to split his head open. Barbaric Brother."

Audin murmured from behind.

Ahead, the Battalion Commander could be seen lifting a bottle of liquor in refreshing fashion.

"This is good liquor! Today, everyone drinks the same liquor! Any objections? If you've got one, come at me!"

That man did not seem normal either.

Marcus held out the liquor for them to enjoy and shouted.

As Encrid stared blankly at that, Pin approached and spoke.

"Want to have a drink?"

"Hm?"

It felt like it had been quite a while since he had put liquor to his lips.

There had been no occasion to. He had been busy training. If he drank, his control over his body would dull. That meant he could not train properly.

Enjoying a party and drinking liquor were separate things.

So he was about to refuse with nice words.

"No, human woman, that seems to be my seat. That man is my fiancé."

A voice came from behind.

Hm?

"... Engaged? She looks like a Fairy."

Pin muttered. Encrid took one step back.

The Fairy Company Commander approached with soundless steps.

"Drink with me."

Was this an order, or a suggestion?

At the appearance of Pin and the Fairy Company Commander, a strange current arose.

"Growl."

Esther slipped in between them as well.

After letting out a fairly fierce cry, Esther slipped neatly into Encrid's arms.

This situation was somehow...

"... Fucking devilish charm."

Seeing that, Rem muttered.

Before he could say it was a misunderstanding, the watching crowd of soldiers around them cheered for Encrid, this time calling him in a different way.

"Devilish Platoon Commander!"

Damn it, just when he thought they had finally forgotten.

The word "devilish" burst out again.