Chapter 32 - Dreams, Reproach, Responsibility

"How’s the standard-bearer?"

"It is fine."

The Company Commander of the Principality of Aspen did not quite like the operation currently underway.

Even so, what could a mere commander do about orders handed down from above?

If they tell you to do it, you do it.

So he was doing as he was told, and a small problem occurred in the process.

A few rats from Naurilia had infiltrated the barracks and set a fire.

Even though more than half of their forces were lying in ambush in the Tall Grass Fields, they had allowed an infiltration.

No matter how much he disliked it, the operation had already begun.

Being hit here was a matter of pride.

And failure was even more unacceptable.

"You should have been more thorough with your defenses."

The owner of the flagpole said. At those words, a vein popped on the Company Commander's forehead.

It was disgusting that a bastard who would die instantly if he just drew his sword and struck his neck was running his mouth. But what could he do?

It was true that a hole had formed in the unit's security.

"I will do so."

FLAP!

The Company Commander said that and stepped outside, seemingly batting the barracks entrance flap away with his hand.

He could not understand this situation.

'Does this make any sense?'

The enemy forces noticing this place? Sure, let's say they could notice this.

But what about after that?

With a number of not even ten men, they bypassed the forces unleashed in the Tall Grass Fields and attacked the main unit's flagpole?

The Company Commander believed in his unit.

It was only natural.

His usual nickname was the Devil Company Commander.

It was an alias attached to him for putting them through such vicious training.

His personal theory was that you had to vomit blood regularly so you wouldn't vomit blood and die on the battlefield.

It was a unit raised by someone like him.

'They broke through this and came in?'

There might be soldiers who lose in battle, but there are no soldiers who fail at guard duty.

The Company Commander genuinely believed that.

Even so, was he going to reprimand his allies' guard duty?

He could not just blindly do that.

The bastard who planned and executed this was no ordinary person.

With the sheer nerve to enter enemy territory with a small number.

And the skill to clash with the Platoon Commander under his command and survive.

Along with the flawless finish of setting a fire and running away.

As for the Platoon Commander, even though he said he inevitably lost them because the fire spread behind him.

'Luck is also a skill.'

The Company Commander of Aspen, who had wandered the battlefield for a long time, also knew the importance of luck.

The Company Commander spoke toward the waiting adjutant.

"Bring every commander, excluding the Platoon Commander who is out on duty."

"Yes, Captain."

His company was under the Battalion, but it was a unit that possessed independent operational control.

In other words, it was an independent company.

And normally, independent companies were given a separate alias.

The name of this unit was 'Gray Dog'.

In the Principality of Aspen, a gray dog was a dog with gray fur, famous for its persistent temperament.

A dog known as a gray dog was only satisfied when it somehow connected with the target it had marked.

Whether that was through love, or through a fight.

Thanks to that, the Gray Hound (Persistent Lovers) was also called 'Persistent Lovers'.

Right now, the leader of that unit had marked an enemy Recon Squad Leader whose name he didn't even know.

'I will absolutely catch him and kill him.'

The Gray Dog, the gray dog, had set its target.

The Company Commander repeatedly engraved his resolve into his heart.

That he would absolutely catch and destroy him.

Above his head, clouds began to gather, perhaps due to the tricks of the shaman inside the tent.

It looked like it was going to rain soon.

Most of the rain that had fallen intermittently recently was the handiwork of the shaman currently situated inside the tent.

And this shaman was the core of this tactic.

He still didn't like it, but there was no room for argument that this was an efficient operation.

If this operation had been nonsense, the Captain of the independent company Gray Dog, or the unit called 'Persistent Lovers', would not have participated in this operation even if beaten to death.

A battlefield where victory was promised.

Although it was separate from his burning desire for revenge, the thought did cross his mind that it was extremely boring.

* * *

"You're saying you coincidentally discovered the enemy's ambush, then coincidentally entered the enemy's main base, and coincidentally set fire to the enemy camp before coming back?"

Hearing it said like this, it did sound strange again.

Instead of nodding his head, Encrid added an extra comment.

"Yes, the result of acting on what I thought was an appropriate judgment at that moment coincidentally turned out that way."

The Recon Platoon Commander blinked his eyes.

What was this guy even saying right now?

A guy who was similar in age to him and had luckily become a Squad Leader.

An idiot with terrible skills who swung his sword whenever he had a chance.

That was the external evaluation of the troublemaker Squad Leader.

But listening to what he had just done, this was just...

Not to mention, it was only at this level because he heard it from Encrid's mouth.

The stories he heard from the surviving squad members' mouths were even more absurd.

"Rumors really cannot be trusted. If possible, I want to learn more by his side."

It was Andrew, who had been so arrogant before leaving that he had been worried about him.

He had wondered if sending this bastard as he was might cause an accident.

He had his command of the recon squad coercively taken away, yet he said it was only natural. No, he said he wanted to learn more.

Was this really the Andrew he knew?

"Looking only at his skills, I believe he has surpassed the level of a middle-grade soldier."

Next was Andrew's babysitter, Mac.

The Recon Platoon Commander knew Mac's skills.

He had entrusted the recon squad to Andrew half-believing in him.

Yet he had received acknowledgment from a guy like Mac.

And through his skills, at that.

"He knew a lot. I just did as I was told, and it turned out like this."

The last was the plains hunter, Henri.

The squad members' evaluations were consistent.

They said they merely trusted and followed him.

They wouldn't all gather their voices together to tell a lie.

So, this was something that had actually happened.

Encrid had seized command of the recon squad.

And with a mere ten men, they had avoided the eyes of the enemy soldiers ambushed in the Tall Grass Fields, set fire to the enemy base, and returned alive.

'Does this make any sense?'

It didn't seem to make sense, but since he had already set the fire and even grasped the enemy's movements, there was nothing to say.

Trying to organize everything he had heard was baffling.

Things like how they stood still among the enemy forces and the enemies naturally avoided them.

Things like how they moved right through enemy territory in the dark and didn't get caught by anyone.

"Well, um, it seems you had incredibly good luck."

In the end, this was all the Recon Platoon Commander could say.

Encrid thought those words were appropriate.

Because he couldn't exactly say he had memorized the enemy's movements and the base's condition thanks to today repeating upon his death.

"Yes, luck was on my side."

If this was luck, it was truly no ordinary luck.

It was on the level of the Goddess of Fortune going beyond a kiss and sleeping with him.

However, there was genuinely no other way to explain it besides luck.

Since it wasn't exactly something to hide, a rumor began to circulate in the recon platoon.

That the troublemaker Squad Leader, Encrid, was a man favored by luck, a man whom the Goddess of Fortune had entrusted her coins to, luck itself.

Or that he had used up his entire life's luck on this recon mission.

Nothing happened on the way back to the main unit.

A brief, drizzling rain while walking for half a day was all.

Rain fell from a clear sky.

It wasn't common, but it was something that could be seen occasionally.

And the entire way back, Encrid was engrossed in one thought.

'Was that the best choice?'

It was a question he threw at himself.

If he had repeated 'today' a few more times, couldn't he have brought about a different result?

Regrets remain in whatever you do. Encrid had realized that since he was young.

What was important was the choice and the process of that choice.

'I thought it was the best.'

Because he could repeat today, a different thought naturally came to mind.

The delusion and doubt of whether it had truly been the best choice, the lingering regret of whether there might have been another option.

'Only four.'

That was the number who returned alive together.

Five, including himself.

Half of the unit had died.

The result threw a question at Encrid.

Asking if this was the best, if that was the only way he could have done it.

'Five died.'

Those five were neither Encrid's family nor his friends.

They were merely squad members who had shared a short itinerary.

Nothing would change whether they were there or not.

It was just that, at that moment, in that today, they had been Encrid's responsibility.

The dream he had harbored in his chest for a long time, the conviction that had guided him straight up until now, reproached him.

Asking if that had truly been the best.

Asking if he couldn't have protected more of them.

'Just what kind of knight are you trying to become?'

The one who had been fascinated by those two simple words, 'knight', was Encrid in his boyhood.

The boy who had been captivated by the minstrel's songs of the knights of old had become an adult.

As time passed, Encrid learned that he was the possessor of an insignificant talent.

Rolling around the battlefield, he also realized his own limits.

Even so, he did not abandon his dream.

Even if that dream had become worn and tattered leather.

Even if, in the end, it had become a scrap of cloth torn and shredded by the blade called reality.

Because he had never given up.

Therefore, he could avoid ending up merely captivated by the word 'knight'.

A knight is one who protects, a knight is one who steps forward, a knight is one who demonstrates his intentions.

'What kind of knight will I become?'

By repeating today, Encrid was able to take a step beyond his limits.

If so, he would have to protect something he had realized and established by seeing with his own eyes and hearing with his own ears normally.

'What kind of knight did I want to become?'

As his dream, torn and shredded by reality, became the word 'conviction' and reproached him.

Encrid accepted that reproach.

By doing so, he decided to move past what had already happened.

Because even if he could have saved five more by repeating today, it was something that couldn't be helped now.

That 'today' was already over.

Leaving lingering regrets there was a foolish thing to do.

"It's the main unit."

One of the soldiers walking together said.

"Whew, we survived."

Henri, who was being supported from behind, said as if muttering.

"So are you going to run straight to that florist widow when we get back?"

"Wouldn't I only be able to go after this battle ends?"

At Encrid's words, Henri replied with a joyful face.

The joy of returning alive, of surviving through that perilous ordeal, filled his chest.

It was the same for the others.

Especially the ex-thug soldier among them.

He had chewed over and over again what had happened this time the entire way back.

Just how was he able to survive?

He thought he would live like a thug all his life and die, but somehow he ended up enlisting.

And somehow he ended up serving a lord named Andrew.

And then this recon mission.

He had felt a lot.

The thug soldier, who had been repeatedly thinking, limped on his injured leg and approached Encrid's side.

It wasn't on purpose, but he hadn't spoken a single word the entire way back.

'He said you're not a human being if you don't know gratitude.'

It was a saying from the older brother who had taken him in when he was young.

That older brother had died long ago and could never be seen again, but the words he had told him had somehow become his compass in life.

Even though he had lived a crude and careless life, the thug knew gratitude.

"I am sorry for acting without manners. I will repay the debt of saving my life when I get the chance."

Encrid stared blankly at the soldier who had suddenly approached and spoken, then nodded his head.

Did he really save his life?

In reality, it was a situation where they would have died if things went wrong, and surviving was the soldier's own luck.

Because actually repeating today, there were many times when this soldier had died.

It was just that on that today, in that moment, the Goddess of Fortune had briefly lingered.

"Suit yourself."

After replying casually and turning around, this time he saw Andrew and Mac.

"I owe you."

Mac spoke first. His eyes were favorable, unlike before.

Andrew was even more so.

"I think it would be nice if we could see each other again next time."

He thought he was an endlessly arrogant brat, but his attitude had changed.

His gaze had become polite.

Encrid gently pressed his palm against his side, which throbbed with pain, and said.

"We'll see each other again if we're on the same battlefield. The flower of the battlefield is."

"The infantry."

They used the infantry's slogan as their farewell greeting.

The Recon Platoon Commander, who was watching this from the side, approached.

"Everyone may return. The wounded should find the Medical Barracks and take care of their bodies. Good work, everyone. And regarding that, never mind."

The Recon Platoon Commander was about to speak to Encrid regarding his achievements and rewards before turning around, but then stopped.

'I need to report first.'

Hadn't he done something unbelievable even after hearing about it?

He thought it was too early to talk about such things when he didn't even know if the higher-ups would believe it or not.

"Well then."

Seeing the pain in his side quickly subside, Encrid figured he wasn't exactly in a state that needed treatment and immediately moved his steps.

It was time to return.

'I wonder if anything happened.'

He hadn't had the time to think about this in the Tall Grass Fields, but now that he had returned to the unit and it was time to go back to the barracks, he wondered if his squad members had truly stayed out of trouble.

Whether they had gotten into an argument with other unit members.

Or if they had fought bloodily amongst themselves.

Whatever it was, it felt like something would have happened.

The squad wasn't given the troublemaker name for nothing.

It was even before he arrived at the barracks like that.

CLANG!

A roar that would only come out when iron met iron struck his ears.

The hearing he had learned and trained through Jaxon shined.

He found the source of the sound in an instant.

It was toward the main unit's barracks.

Encrid's steps picked up speed.

As he approached the barracks, he saw people surrounding the area.