Chapter 49 - Madness and Heat, Greed and Desire

“We won.”

“Fuuuck, we won!”

“You fucking Aspen bastards!”

Victory brought cheers.

Cheers brought heat.

Heat brought madness.

The scorching energy they called forth interlocked and swept across the entire battlefield.

When did one achieve the greatest results on a battlefield?

When chasing the backs of fleeing enemies.

Naurilia tore viciously into Aspen’s tail.

“Uoooooh!”

Before they honored the dead, the joy of victory swept through the allies first.

It was only natural that madness could be glimpsed there.

Only a few days ago, they had nearly been annihilated.

The terror of death brought by the fog was still carved deep into their chests.

And then, on the battlefield where they stood with that fear in their hearts, the allies had won an overwhelming victory.

“Long live the Red Cape Knight Order!”

“Long live Naurilia!”

The Squire did not reveal his name.

Instead of the nameless Squire, the name of the knight order rose high.

“Long live the Red Cape Knight Order!”

Those cheers, that heat, that madness.

At the front of the battlefield, the one receiving all those cheers stood at the center of it.

FLAP.

The Squire, his symbolic red cape fluttering, raised one hand in answer to the cheers.

“Uoooooh!”

Among the soldiers drunk on the heat of victory, some shed tears of joy.

Everyone shouted their cheers.

They became drunk on madness.

Seeing that, Encrid murmured quietly.

“Me too.”

No one heard those words, but within them lay his long-held dream.

The madness and heat were contagious, making Encrid’s heart pound as well.

The end of the battle, the final night on the battlefield.

Quite a few people had died, but Encrid felt elated.

He remembered something a sword instructor from a great city, a man missing three fingers, had once said.

“A guy with no talent who lives by the sword? He’s one of two things. Either he enjoys the battlefield, or he enjoys killing. Ah, make that one of three. There are also guys who just live without thinking.”

‘I think I’m the type who enjoys the battlefield.’

He envied the cheers.

He also had the greed to want to stand before them.

Beyond simply swinging a sword, he wanted to tear through the battlefield.

The reason he had honed his martial skill was not purely because he was drunk on the sword.

Encrid thought about what he had done in this battle.

All he had done was struggle desperately to survive.

In the end, he had built up merit by tearing down the flag and breaking the spell’s medium, but...

‘That, too, was just a desperate struggle to survive.’

The sudden surge of elation brought forth the greed and desire Encrid had covered with his dream and forgotten because he had no talent.

‘A knight.’

He would become one.

He would become one no matter what.

It was the moment he vowed so once more.

“Damn, it’s noisy as hell.”

Rem, who wandered the battlefield without a thought, said while picking his ear.

He did not look like he enjoyed either the battlefield or killing.

He did not seem to have any such elation.

Beside him, Ragna yawned.

“Haaah, isn’t it over now? Can’t we march back tonight?”

As if they would really do that tonight.

This bastard was probably the thoughtless type too.

Jaxon was wiping his blade with leather.

He was already maintaining his sword.

He did not say it or show it outwardly, but did Jaxon enjoy something too?

Encrid did not know.

After all, he was the sort to hide himself too well.

“Whoa, damn, the battle just ended in a snap. If I turn this into a story or a song, would it sell?”

“Do you know how to make songs too, brother?”

“No. I’d have another minstrel do it.”

“If they make a song about something they didn’t see themselves, that is fraud.”

“Fraud? That’s a dangerous thing to say. It’s not like that, Audin.”

It was a conversation between Big-eyes, who seemed to wonder if even a battlefield could be sold, and the devout squadmate whose thoughts could not be read.

Encrid had heard that on the day he tore apart the spell’s medium, the devout squadmate’s whole body had been soaked red as if he had bathed in blood.

It meant he had fought savagely.

He too looked quiet and serene, but he possessed tremendous force.

Encrid did not know why he stood on the battlefield.

His thoughts continued one after another, and Encrid placed his squad members in his own position.

‘If it had been Rem.’

He would not have stopped at breaking through and tearing down the flag.

The same would have been true of Ragna, Jaxon, or the devout squadmate.

All of them would have fought better than him.

‘Next time, more.’

As the battlefield’s elation squeezed his heart, the reaction only made desire bloom in Encrid’s chest.

On the night the battle ended, the command released alcohol and food.

Salted rabbit meat, venison, and the like were brought out, along with strong liquor stored in great oak barrels.

“Booze, it’s booze!”

Rem and Ragna went mad for alcohol.

“I only drink wine.”

The devout squadmate refused the hard liquor, and Jaxon did not touch alcohol in the first place.

“Women are better than alcohol.”

He was the sort of bastard who went around saying that without hesitation.

Why did women flock to him when he talked like that?

‘So the face really is the answer.’

Encrid himself was also the sort women flocked to without any effort.

It was thanks to his face.

On top of that, his trained, sharply defined muscular body was truly a weapon that swept through women’s hearts.

“This is cheap liquor. I’m not drinking it.”

Big-eyes had refined tastes.

The night deepened, and the Battalion Commander entered the barracks.

“Squad Leader of Squad 444?”

At the sound of someone looking for him, Encrid rose.

By now, the heat had cooled somewhat, and everyone was preparing to sleep.

Because of his injuries, Encrid had not touched the alcohol.

Thanks to that, there was no unfortunate incident of failing to recognize the Battalion Commander’s face.

“A wounded man drinking? A mere wounded man drinking? Drinking when you’re hurt?”

Rem had nagged him.

“It would be best to refrain. You need to recover first.”

Jaxon had also stopped him.

Ragna had silently shaken his head.

Big-eyes had looked at Encrid and snickered.

They were properly insane squad members.

When Encrid went outside at the Battalion Commander’s call, the Battalion Commander waved his hand, smelling of alcohol, as if to say there was no need to salute.

“They say the flag was the spell’s medium? And you were the one who tore it down.”

It sounded as though they had found the person who broke the spell, the one who had made the absolute contribution on this battlefield.

CRACKLE.

Sparks remained in the lit campfire, scattering embers into the air.

“Yes.”

Encrid answered calmly.

“When we return, there will be a reward. Well done.”

The Battalion Commander patted Encrid on the shoulder.

It was quite a remarkable thing.

After all, this was the first time Encrid had spoken with the Battalion Commander since becoming a Squad Leader.

That was how remarkable what Encrid had done was.

He had changed the tide of the battlefield.

However, only a handful of people knew that.

More precisely, only the command knew.

The credit for overcoming the spell in this battle would probably be taken by the command.

He did not feel bitter about that.

Instead, the reward would be generous.

‘I don’t regret it.’

Since it was something he had done, perhaps he ought to take the credit.

‘It was a desperate struggle.’

After seeing a knight—no, merely a Squire—his thoughts had changed a great deal.

He felt he had gained far more than some small merit like this.

“You’ve got good looks.”

After the Battalion Commander patted his shoulder and left, Encrid was about to go back into the barracks when he heard the sound of footsteps tapping on the ground.

“What is it?”

When he turned his gaze toward the source of the sound, he saw eyes like emeralds.

Seeing them in the middle of the night, they had a somewhat eerie quality, like a ghost.

Inhuman beauty.

It was the Fairy Company Commander.

“The reward for tearing down the flag won’t be handled halfheartedly.”

Whether that was all she had to say, the Company Commander said only that and turned away.

Just as it seemed she would leave like that, the Company Commander turned only her head back and opened her mouth.

“Aren’t you going to salute?”

When Encrid belatedly made a gesture of pressing down his weapon with his left hand, the Fairy Company Commander waved a hand as if to say enough.

“Enough. I’m going.”

What kind of Fairy was that?

After the Company Commander left and he went back inside the barracks, Rem was lying on his side with one arm propping up his head.

“Don’t throw me away just because you’re getting popular, Squad Leader.”

“Are you drunk?”

“I’m not drunk.”

It was a joke.

The night had deepened.

Encrid closed his eyes and replayed in his head what he had felt after seeing the Squire.

Once his body healed, he had a great deal to do.

* * *

After waking, the Naurilia infantry battalion headed for Border Guard.

At the end of a four-day march, they were able to face the walls of the fortress city Border Guard.

It was a city built long across a basin higher than the surrounding land, with walls and three enormous watchtowers rising high.

This was the final bastion that held back the Principality of Aspen.

The frontier fortress, Border Guard.

* * *

The appearance of the Squire from the Red Cape Knight Order could change the tide of the battlefield.

The reason the local war on the Green Pearl Plains had remained small-scale until now was because of an unwritten rule that knight order forces would not be deployed here.

In such a situation, the Naurilia Kingdom had sent out a Squire as its hidden card.

Naurilia had broken the unwritten rule.

Even if the one who appeared on the battlefield was in the process of moving from Squire to proto knight, crossing the line was still crossing the line.

“These sons of bitches?”

The Prince of Aspen exploded in anger.

His eyes reddened, and veins bulged on his forehead.

“Send ours out too!”

They could not send them just because he ordered it.

It was winter.

If they started a war in winter, both nations’ strength would decline severely.

If a full-scale war was expected rather than a local engagement, they needed to gather power on a national level as well.

Most importantly, Aspen’s main force was currently away due to certain circumstances.

If they were to fight properly, Aspen needed time too.

At the end of a war, even if the other side became so angry that the top of their head blew off like an erupting volcano, if winter was coming, they had to endure it.

Naurilia must have anticipated this as well, which was why they had committed their forces at the very end of the war.

Conversely, Aspen had also read the timing of winter’s arrival and deployed the spellcaster.

However, the blade this side had prepared had been blocked, while the dagger the other side had prepared had sunk deep into their forearm.

It hurt.

If things went wrong, they might lose the use of one arm entirely.

“Put diplomatic pressure on them at least. Sending a knight order member onto the battlefield is a problem, isn’t it?”

The prince, famous as a militant, breathed fire through his nose, saying they could not let this pass.

He did not shout loudly, but his voice was thick with anger, like water boiling hard.

The Principality of Aspen was a country built around three houses.

Prince Aspen.

Hurrier of martial force.

And Atkins of administration and political affairs.

Diplomacy was the responsibility of House Atkins.

Minister Atkins was troubled.

It was because of the letter sent by Naurilia.

The fact that the letter had arrived around the same time the member of the Red Cape Knight Order was deployed was proof that Naurilia had prepared its excuse perfectly as well.

The letter stated that a Frog General belonging to Aspen had appeared in the enemy camp, and that they had sent a member of the order to respond to it.

The reason was plausible.

Far too fitting.

Why, of all things, had that Frog General bastard gone there?

Frogs were originally a race that lived as they pleased.

From the moment they were dressed in soldiers’ clothing, such problems could arise.

‘Even if it hadn’t been the General, they would have given some other excuse.’

Atkins was no fool.

Naurilia would not have impulsively sent a knight order member.

The Frog General had become their excuse, but even if it had not been him, Naurilia would have glossed it over with a suitable excuse.

To put only the conclusion plainly, Aspen had been struck and left with nothing.

The beginning of all this was the spell being ruined.

If the Fog of Massacre had succeeded, then unless a true knight had come, the local war on the Green Pearl Plains that had dragged on for so long would have been a great victory for Aspen.

Atkins recalled the report that a single enemy soldier had ruined the spell.

‘These bastards failed to keep watch and are using one enemy soldier as an excuse?’

Did that make any sense?

Every bastard related to this matter would have to take responsibility.

The spellcaster had retreated and fled, then been found as a corpse.

Whether passing bandits had done it or not, he and his escort had all been split in half.

‘Nothing is going right. Nothing.’

“Hey, are we just going to let this pass?”

The ruler shouted, forgetting his dignity.

This autumn, the hidden move that had begun at Atkins’s strong insistence had backfired.

The dragging local battlefield ended marked by Aspen’s defeat.

* * *

After ten days, Encrid judged that his body had fully recovered.

So as soon as he got up, Encrid immediately went looking for Rem.

“Rem.”

“What is it?”

Rem, who had returned after finishing guard duty, stood before Encrid.

“Let’s have a bout.”

“What?”

“A spar.”

“... Didn’t your body only just get better?”

What did that matter?

His body was itching so badly he could die.

Encrid said it with his expression.

If this was an ability, then it was an ability.

After all, he was expressing what he held in his heart using only his eyebrows and the corners of his mouth.

“Let’s do it. If you want to, you should. You need to get beaten up again.”

“Come at me, insolent barbarian.”

“Oh my, do you want your leg broken this time?”

Rem accepted Encrid’s provocation with a laugh.

The two soon went outside the lodgings.

Watching them, Ragna agreed with at least one thing Rem had said, if nothing else.

Among all the madmen he had seen, the Squad Leader was the greatest.

His talent was insignificant, so how did he rush in asking to fight the moment he got up?

Less than thirty minutes later, Encrid opened the door to the lodgings again.

“Ragna, come out. I shall wash away your laziness.”

He was an excited Squad Leader.

A scab remained near his temple, as if he had bled from one side of his head, and yet his expression was bright.

“Yes, yes. Let’s do it.”

Ragna did not waste his mental energy on a pointless argument either.

He only had to spar with him a few times.

This was their daily life.