Chapter 150 - Night of the Banquet

Devilish charm, drinking, and a party.

Well, it was a feast of those sorts of things.

Had there ever been a party like this before?

When was the last time he had done something like a banquet?

Encrid searched his memory.

It felt like the first time in nearly several years.

It was obviously his first time at the Border Guard, and for Encrid personally, it was the kind of moment he had only experienced a few times in his entire life.

He had enjoyed something like a banquet back in his old mercenary days.

What had he done back then?

He had only wet his lips and devoted himself to reviewing the fight.

"Let's have a drink, Platoon Commander."

Aside from Pin and the Company Commander, plenty of people thrust cups at him.

"When it's time to play, you play. Come on, let's not be boring."

Even Rem was saying that.

So he did drink. He had said he did not enjoy it, not that he could not drink.

GULP.

One mouthful, and a sharp aroma brushed the tip of his nose as the sweet liquid slid down his throat and soaked his stomach.

'Not bad.'

He was no born gourmet or lover of alcohol, but the experience of wandering here and there, eating and drinking, did not disappear.

Hadn't someone said that a poor wanderer would eat anything well, yet could also judge everything that entered his mouth?

'This must have cost some crona.'

The Battalion Commander had properly opened his purse.

No, to be precise, should he say the Border Guard had treated them?

Surely Marcus had not paid for all this out of his own pocket.

In any case, they ate, drank, and enjoyed themselves.

When Encrid decided to rest, he tended to do even resting with all his might.

Because he knew all too well that proper rest became preparation for what came next.

However.

'The starlight is so fine tonight.'

It was indeed a fine night, with the moon and stars embroidering the sky. A night a little too precious to spend merely drinking.

"A drink just enough to cleanse the palate is plenty, Brother. Are you saying you wish to arm wrestle me? Very well."

From one side, he heard Audin enjoying himself.

"You bastard, are you being fussy again?"

Rem picking a fight.

"It simply does not suit my palate."

Ragna answering back.

But where had Jaxon gone again?

Had he said he was going out into the city?

Jaxon was not exactly the type to fit in at a banquet.

Encrid sat occupying a suitable chair.

Everyone was busy eating and drinking.

There were soldiers chattering in excitement, and others telling tales of valor half-mixed with curses.

Now and then, quite a few people spoke to Encrid as well, not just Pin and the Fairy Company Commander.

No, in truth, he had to be the most popular one there.

"I knew you'd see the light someday."

It was Bell.

The man who had died from an arrow when the first today repeated, no, the man who had nearly died.

In a way, could one say he was a man whose fate had changed thanks to Encrid?

"So? You want to spar?"

Encrid tossed out a joke.

"No, what sparring? I hear you can even beat down the Border Guard."

"I was lucky."

Luck. By now, it had become a habit on his tongue.

"Is that something luck can do?"

Bell grumbled, then laughed. It was an incredibly bright smile.

Then Vengeance approached too.

"Why do you, whew."

He said that, breathed out heavily, then said no, forget it, let's just drink, shared one cup, and abruptly turned away.

Before, Encrid might not have known, but now that he understood Vengeance's feelings.

Encrid could comfort him.

It was comfort offered while sitting down, only moving his mouth, but if it reached the other person, did that not have meaning?

"The world is wide."

Encrid comforted him that way, as if spitting out an infantry slogan.

"And there are many women."

Vengeance's steps stopped cold.

What emotion had been contained in that "Why do you, whew"?

Was it not jealousy and envy?

It was probably because he had seen the Fairy Company Commander and Pin come ask Encrid to drink.

And because he had confirmed that the gazes of a few serving girls were strange as well.

Had the comfort been appropriate?

Vengeance, who had stopped, turned only his upper body back.

His eyes looked as if they held ghost fire.

"You Son of a Bitch?"

Seeing that, Encrid thought the comfort had been appropriate.

Wasn't it much better to see him bloom with such a flower of passion than sink into despair?

"Jenny?"

Looking at him, Encrid pretended to be surprised and stared behind Vengeance.

Vengeance's head snapped around frighteningly fast.

Jenny, the herb seller, could be called Vengeance's sore spot.

After all, she had been the reason he first hated Encrid.

CREEEAK.

When Vengeance confirmed there was nothing behind him, or more precisely, that Jenny was not there, a strange sound came out as he turned his head back toward Encrid.

That sounded like the kind of sound that would come from the neck of a skeleton soldier that had just been born.

"You bastard. We duel."

Ah, a duel. He had meant to rest today, but there was no helping this. This truly was not his intention.

"Shall we?"

Encrid straightened his body.

Vengeance regretted it the moment he said it.

He knew from experience, and he knew just from seeing it.

He was no match for him.

But how could he endure being mocked like that?

"They're fighting."

"Who? Who?"

"It's Platoon Commander Vengeance."

"Who's he up against?"

"Ah, the Devilish Platoon Commander."

That damned devilish.

Encrid let the words of the surrounding soldiers go in one ear and out the other, but he could not easily let the word "devilish" slip past him.

It was because it felt like a word that did not suit him at all.

He had a similar experience before.

Had Audin called him stubborn?

Stubborn, he said. He was not that at all.

Devilish was the same. Not at all. It was a misunderstanding.

"Where, where is the fight! Wait, just a moment! If you're going to settle a match, there has to be a wager!"

Krais, who had vanished into the crowd of soldiers on one side, suddenly popped out.

Krais, having popped out, saw Encrid's face and checked Vengeance as well.

"... No one would know this, but the Platoon Commander who has mastered the secret art of assassination is none other than Platoon Commander Vengeance. Anyone want to bet crona on Platoon Commander Vengeance?"

No one did.

The wager was not established.

Vengeance swung his sword down with all his might.

Encrid did not let his guard down.

As always, his eyes gleamed, and he focused.

Watching the descending sword, he moved his body.

There was no pause.

Encrid held his sword horizontally to block the attack, hooked Vengeance's foot, then drove his knee into Vengeance's thigh.

It was a mix of fundamentals and irregular technique.

"Argh!"

Vengeance collapsed after being struck in the side of the thigh.

"Hmm."

Encrid felt somehow unsatisfied.

It felt like stopping midway through taking a piss.

One blow?

Wasn't Vengeance, in his own way, a soldier aiming for upper-grade?

"Didn't I say the soldier grading system was, what, fuuucking stuuupid? Didn't I?"

For no reason, Rem's words came to mind.

He turned his head, wondering if there was anyone like Rem around.

But there were a whole lot of people sending strange looks at Encrid himself.

There was admiration and the like in those gazes.

Encrid saw that, furrowed his brow, then smoothed it out.

It was an expression only Krais noticed, one that seemed to say something displeased him.

He wanted someone to come at him, not admire him.

For a while, the number of people requesting sparring and challenging him had increased, but lately it had become extremely sparse.

The Border Guard had been sparse as well.

He thought he had seen the Captain of the Border Guard among the soldiers earlier.

It seemed the 1st Company Commander was somewhere around too.

Could he place his expectations on those two?

Encrid's eyes searched for those two.

Finding them was not difficult.

They had already entered his sight earlier.

However, the heavy armored Company Commander was already pleasantly drunk.

And the Captain of the Border Guard did not look the least bit inclined to step forward.

What the two had in common was that they were holding wine cups, and that they did not look inclined to fight.

"I was going to ask him to have a drink."

The 1st Company Commander said with a reddened face, then turned away, saying that one was definitely a madman.

When the Company Commander's gaze turned toward him, Encrid glanced behind him.

Since he had said madman, Encrid wondered if Rem might be behind him.

He was not.

Then to whom?

At the very least, it could not have been directed at him.

Wasn't he practically the only normal person in the lunatic platoon?

"How should I put this? Should I say he meets expectations? Or should I nod and say, as expected, he is not normal?"

The Captain of the Border Guard left only those words behind and departed as well.

He saw the Fairy Company Commander and Pin looking at him from one side.

And Esther below them too.

The blue-eyed leopard opened her mouth and yawned, then whipped her head away.

But had she just tried to cover her mouth with a forepaw?

As if that paw could cover her mouth.

That leopard really was like a person.

Encrid thought so and tried to put his sword away.

It felt like stopping midway through taking a piss.

It was frustrating, as if someone had cut off something important halfway through saying it.

But what could he do, when there was no opponent he could easily match with?

That was the moment and the situation.

"Are you really going to do it?"

"Yes."

A conversation heard from one side.

At the same time, he felt a force strong enough to make him imagine a sword prickling sharply against his skin.

Encrid reflexively placed his hand on his hilt.

Because it felt as though he had to draw his sword and fight at any moment.

He turned his body.

Andrew came into view.

SHING.

He was not just standing there.

He was drawing his sword.

And in a stance ready to strike and cast it out anytime, anywhere.

Why did resolve show in the sight of him drawing his sword?

Starlight and torchlight, a duet of light, seeped into Andrew's face as he drew his sword that way.

One side was blue, the other red.

Perhaps he had not drunk, because his complexion was calm.

Standing like that, Andrew opened his mouth.

"I learned House Gardner's swordsmanship, honed it through actual battle, and while walking alone, I learned that there is no giving up when it comes to learning."

Mac, who had been beside him, had at some point taken one step back.

The surrounding soldiers did the same.

They stepped back and made space.

So only Encrid and Andrew remained in the center.

One had his hand on his hilt.

The other had already drawn his sword.

Andrew, who had opened his mouth, continued speaking without killing his momentum.

"I ask for your instruction."

Encrid stared into Andrew's eyes for a moment.

Unwavering pupils, and a blazing heat instead of admiration.

They were eyes he liked very much, and a moment he liked very much.

WHOOSH.

Right beside him came the sound of a torch blazing.

A pleasant night breeze blew.

The saying that spring had magic was something he had heard so often he was sick of it.

'That saying.'

It seemed to be true.

Instead of answering, Encrid looked up at the sky.

Night, a feast of starlight rising amid the moonlight.

A world of pouring stars was there.

Encrid lowered his head again and said,

"Isn't it a good night to fight?"

He meant it.

To the point that he thought it was a waste to hold a banquet on a day like this.

Yes, if it had been another day.

If the starlight had not shone down on him like that, he might simply have enjoyed the banquet.

But this night was far too precious for that.

"Then."

Andrew presented his sword.

And Encrid faced him.

Their first beginning had been the Recon Party, but their relationship had changed rapidly.

And now, once again.

Andrew's sword danced.

It was an unorthodox sword style.

A sword style centered on speed, digging into the opponent's weaknesses.

Encrid was careful in facing him, focused,

And showed everything he had.

That was right.

Since his opponent showed his best and his sincerity, it was only right that he do the same.

Esther thought it was quite fascinating.

'Tonight really is.'

It was a night when magic power flowed thickly.

Sensitive people often felt that nights like this were somehow different.

Then, had that man felt it too?

The way he could not stay still and was running wild somehow made it seem that way.

The fight was not long.

The outcome was clear.

"Now, those of you who bet crona!"

Krais's voice rang out higher and straighter than ever.

On this night, the busiest and most passionate person might have been Krais.

THUD.

It was the sound of Andrew falling backward.

They had not exchanged swords dozens of times.

The outcome had been decided before even ten sword strikes were over.

After knocking Andrew down, Encrid held out his hand to him, clasped it, and pulled him up.

Then a sudden question came to mind, so he asked.

"Are you thinking of leaving?"

"Hoo, yes."

Andrew exhaled once deeply and answered.

"Why?"

"I have something I must do."

Then he had to go.

Wasn't it impossible to hold onto someone who said they were leaving?

"It was enjoyable."

"Yes, Captain."

Andrew smiled.

In a way, he felt like a young youngest brother.

He was a friend who gave that impression.

"I truly learned a great deal."

Encrid nodded toward Andrew as he spoke again.

To some, it was a banquet to drink themselves into the ground.

To others, it was a banquet to open a gambling board and earn some crona.

To yet others, it was a banquet to confirm their camaraderie with one another.

And to Encrid, it was a banquet with fine starlight, good for sparring.

After that.

A few more people filled with heat challenged him.

The atmosphere had changed, after all.

He was quite glad of that.

And so the night of eating, drinking, and fighting passed.

Encrid fell asleep, and as always, opened his eyes at dawn.

The beginning of morning training.

Whether the night of the banquet had passed or not, what had to be done had to be done.

So he went out to the training ground.

And there stood a guest he had not expected.

* * *

The party continued until midnight.

Duty was handled by another battalion that had not participated in the battle.

"I am in your debt."

Marcus said that to the commander under him along with his request.

"Not at all."

The commander readily accepted Marcus's request.

How could he not?

Who was Marcus?

He was not just some ordinary Battalion Commander.

Once he returned to the capital, he would become a man with a new status.

He was a noble, and among nobles, a member of one of the five families that held central power.

"Then."

After the commander left, Marcus set down the bottle of alcohol he had been holding.

He had done something that did not suit him for the sake of the unit's morale.

He tended to prefer tea over alcohol.

He even had a habit of mixing alcohol with tea when he did drink.

He also preferred quiet places over noisy ones.

'Is it because of my education as a child?'

Was it the influence of the tea ceremony he had learned from his family?

It was not important.

There was no need to go out of his way to fix something that had already become familiar and turned into a habit.

Marcus leisurely drank his tea.

Noise rang out even as far as his quarters.

Calling prostitutes had been forbidden, but once alcohol entered them, there would likely be quite a few men who headed for the red-light district.

Today was a moment to show leniency rather than control.

He intended to leave most things alone.

As he spent his time that way, several commanders he knew showed their faces.

Among them were those conscious of power.

And there were those who came to see him because they liked the him on the battlefield, along with his nickname of Warmonger.

Still, it seemed all the Company Commanders had come.

'No, one is missing.'

The Fairy Company Commander was nowhere to be seen.

Well, it was nothing to concern himself with.

Whether she fawned over power, or deliberately attended to share a cup with him.

Both seemed like ridiculous things.

So he conversed while drinking tea mixed with alcohol.

And around the time the sun set and the moon rose.

Marcus went to bed early.

It was dreamless, deep sleep.

Amid the silence.

KNOCK KNOCK.

"Battalion Commander."

At the voice of the guard who was also keeping the night watch, and the sound of knocking, Marcus opened his eyes.

"What is it?"

He turned his eyes toward the window.

It was still before dawn, the hour when blue beyond the moonlight mixed with orange and announced the start of the day.

"A guest has come."

In other words, it was far too early for a guest to come.

Who could come at this moment, at this hour?

It would be a being separate from human etiquette and a noble's power.

Marcus was not flustered.

He had not known they would come at this hour, but he could guess who the other party was.

'I thought they would come tomorrow at the earliest.'

He had heard the battlefield had only just been settled.

Had a gift with an impatient nature arrived?

Or had they, too, held expectations?

"I will be out shortly."

Marcus stepped out with a jacket loosely thrown over his shirt.

Since the gift had arrived, it was now time to deliver it.

This gift was for one person.

It was the result of Marcus's repeated deliberation.

The recipient of the gift was, of course, Encrid.