Chapter 158 - He Was Thanked by a Mother Who Had Raised Her Son Alone

Aspen had lost.

But it had not collapsed.

Because winning and losing were things that repeated.

No matter how thoroughly one prepared, problems arose.

Defeat was, yes, merely a problem to be endured.

'You can lose.'

He thought that was possible.

But to lose like this?

With every preparation shattered one after another?

The strategy they had prepared seemed to barely work at the beginning, only to be completely denied.

Even if it was a battlefield where they had taken one step back, to be denied like this?

Aspen's genius strategist, Abnaire, had been quite confident.

Even if it would not be a perfect victory, he had thought they would not be pushed back easily.

Had there been only one or two arrangements that justified that?

They had drawn in a giant.

They had hidden their strength.

They had also induced the enemy to let down their guard, and even fed them a broad outline of their strategy.

The gist of the strategy had been this.

To split Naurilia's main force by winning the battle on the detour.

Dividing their main force like that was the foundation, but it had gone wrong from the very start.

Defeat in a battle they could not afford to lose.

That was the beginning of everything becoming a tangled mess.

It was like one bookshelf falling over noisily and knocking down all the bookshelves around it.

"Absurd."

It was ridiculous.

Because it was, the words came out on their own.

Abnaire ran a hand through his green hair.

Under the bright sunlight, he saw a child playing outside the window.

Several attendants trailed after the child.

Then the child waved toward the window.

Abnaire leaned his elbow on the windowsill with the window open.

After waving back to the child, he enjoyed the sunlight.

The weather was fine.

It was the season when the temperature rose.

He saw the child climb onto the swing hanging outside.

With his eyes on the child, he went over the beginning of the operation in his mind.

That was what Abnaire did.

'Why?'

Why had they lost?

The defeat across the whole battlefield had begun with the detour.

Several documents flashed through his mind.

Since he had to trace back and find the cause of the defeat.

When he went back to the beginning, the beginning of the beginning, the very beginning.

'From the soldier duel.'

That was where it had been blocked at the start, and afterward Mitch Hurrier died.

In the end, there had been the actions of those who showed unexpected force in the battle on the detour.

What had been at the center of it?

Who had been there?

There was a name in the report Abnaire had received.

It was the content sent by one of his commanders just before death.

The lunatic platoon, Platoon Commander Encrid.

The name did not feel unfamiliar, so he turned it over in his mind, and realized it was the man House Hurrier had sent an assassin after.

A mere Platoon Commander?

Could someone like that have been the start of all these battles?

He did not know.

From here on, it was purely instinct.

The instinct of a schemer, and the instinct of a soldier.

'It won't be a loss.'

When House Hurrier sent an assassin, he had thought it was a useless act, but perhaps that had been the correct answer.

For the future, or more precisely, for the next war after peace, Abnaire decided to use an assassin.

He still intended to kill only one mere Platoon Commander.

There was a venerable guild active in Aspen, so if he used them, no one would be able to trace the tail back to him.

After organizing his thoughts that way, he moved.

After pulling himself away from the window frame, he immediately ordered an attendant to summon the assassin guild and placed a request in the name of the royal palace.

"If we cross the border, the payment is triple, and we will refuse any unreasonable request."

At the assassin guild's answer, Abnaire sent back his own response.

A note with the amount of crona written on it would be enough.

"One Platoon Commander?"

"You're saying you'll spend this much crona on one man?"

It was a request fee large enough to buy a mansion in the capital of the Principality of Aspen.

The assassin guild had no reason to refuse.

It was not as though they had been asked to kill a famous noble, nor were they targeting a key figure in the military.

Only one mere Platoon Commander.

If one excluded the risk of having to cross the border, it was an easy job.

The assassin guild accepted the request and moved.

They selected three assassins and sent them.

"Failure?"

The guild master thought they had taken the job too lightly.

"With middle-grade assassins."

Thinking about it, had the half-fairy not failed before as well?

She had also been middle-grade.

Well, that was why he had sent three, taking even that into account.

"Send two."

Those were the assassins he sent next.

"Boss."

"Another failure?"

No, this was a little strange.

Why were they dying every time he sent them?

"Two middle-grade assassins?"

"Yes."

What was this?

Should he send an upper-grade assassin?

At this point, he was about to start calculating the loss.

"Send an upper-grade one."

They completed the jobs they took.

More importantly, it was a direct order from the royal palace.

Outwardly, they moved as an assassin guild, but in essence, the guild called the Swamps of Montterre belonged to the royal palace.

The guild master knew that well.

If he made an enemy of the royal palace, making a living by assassination here would be out of the question.

And so an upper-grade assassin departed.

"What the hell is this!"

It was the failure of an assassin counted among the top ten even in the Swamps of Montterre.

They could not contact him.

Unless some kindhearted magician had suddenly appeared and removed the engraved Spell carved into his body, he was surely dead.

Sure enough, two days later, the assassin's head was delivered.

To none other than a secret mansion hidden by the Swamps of Montterre.

"Send word to the royal palace."

If they continued like this, the damage would be extreme.

There was something on the other side.

An upper-grade assassin had not escaped, but been cut down.

And their location had been exposed on top of that?

There was intervention from a group superior to them.

"That is my judgment."

The guild master entered the royal palace as he was.

He told them everything that had happened.

And he said it would be difficult to continue any further.

Abnaire swallowed a hollow laugh inside.

'The assassin guild failed?'

Even to him, it was nothing but absurd.

Since he had neither the capacity nor the leeway to make further moves.

"Let us leave it be."

Abnaire gave up.

Aspen's internal affairs were too busy for him to pour more effort into this.

If there was something to that man.

If there truly was something.

'I will see him again next time.'

Abnaire tossed the name Encrid behind him like that.

If they were fated to meet on the battlefield.

Then all he had to do was submit to that fate.

It meant he was not a man who would end with assassination.

* * *

It was a shadow that had been loitering around the barracks for several days.

Familiar movements, and a disguise skill that made it difficult to guess it was the same person if one observed clumsily.

With the man before him, Jaxon killed his footsteps and held his breath.

He had completely erased his presence to disrupt the senses.

'What is this?'

An assassin.

He recognized it at a glance.

They were in the same line of work.

A thin thread unwound from Jaxon's hand.

It was a thick thread coated with black ink and special oil so it would not reflect light.

It wrapped around the assassin's neck.

Before the assassin could show any reaction, he yanked the thread with a crunch.

By driving his elbow into the man's back and pulling tight, he half-snapped the neck bone.

With a snap, the head bent to the side.

If the neck bone broke, one died.

That was an obvious fact.

Jaxon examined the dead man as he was.

Would he have been difficult to deal with if it had not been Jaxon?

Jaxon's people in the Border Guard were not combatants, but informants.

That did not mean they would simply stand there and be taken down, though.

'The third.'

In the three months since they returned after the battle ended, this was already the third attack.

The third was a man who had deliberately stayed glued to the barracks wall.

For three days, he had come in a different disguise each time, pretending to be a beggar, an old man, and a merchant.

'He's fairly good.'

Men like this were entering the city where he was staying.

Their target seemed to be inside the barracks.

If they had been aiming for a Company Commander, a Battalion Commander, or a noble, they would have moved in a different way.

The first ones who came had disguised themselves as recruits.

And their target had been too clear.

'The lunatic platoon.'

When he followed the flow, the target became visible.

It was the Platoon Commander.

They were aiming for Encrid.

But since that Encrid had not left the barracks or the training ground for three straight months, they had tried to go in instead.

"Crazy bastards."

They were putting in this much force just to catch one mere Platoon Commander?

Near the barracks wall hidden by two large trees, Jaxon slung a corpse over his shoulder and moved while avoiding people's eyes, then put the body down near an alley where vagrants stayed.

He roughly arranged it into a sleeping posture, bought a bottle of liquor, sprinkled it around the body, and left the bottle beside it.

With this, they would not bother searching for a cause of death and would think of him as some dead vagrant.

After dealing with the corpse, Jaxon entered the red-light district.

He was a regular customer of the red-light district.

When he arrived, several prostitutes glanced at him.

An appearance like that truly was not common.

Jaxon ignored every gaze and entered a room as a regular customer.

Inside, a young blonde beauty greeted him half-naked.

When Jaxon bent and straightened a few fingers of his left hand to convey meaning in sign language, the woman opened her mouth.

"There are no listening ears."

"Problems?"

"There are no problems anymore, either."

Previously, they had missed the half-fairy assassin entering the city.

Even if they had not spread eyes across the entire city, did that make any sense?

That incident had bothered Jaxon.

It had wounded his pride.

Afterward, assassins had continued entering one after another, so he killed them as they came.

As long as he stayed in the Border Guard, he would not let any other assassin or anyone who did similar shit inside.

This was not something he had done because someone was aiming for the Platoon Commander.

Absolutely not.

Leaning his back against the door, Jaxon was expressionless as always.

After studying that expression, the woman opened her mouth again.

"They're from the Swamps of Montterre, so what should we do?"

The Swamps of Montterre was an assassin guild rooted in Aspen and active there.

"Let them know this is my territory."

"Our way."

It meant to kill them as they came in if they crossed the line.

The woman nodded.

That might become a struggle between guilds.

But it would probably become a war no one knew about.

The place she belonged to was originally such a place.

Afterward, Jaxon spent the night with her.

They were connected through work, but they also desired each other physically.

The two were close to lovers.

The woman woke early at dawn and ordered several subordinates to cut off the head of the corpse Jaxon had killed.

She sent it as it was to one of the bases of the Swamps of Montterre.

It was a warning.

If they came at them even after the warning, the regret would belong to those who came.

After that, the Swamps of Montterre never attacked again.

It was only natural.

If they moved with Aspen as their stage.

Then these people moved with the continent as theirs.

* * *

"Is this the right way?"

Krais asked while looking at the dank back alley.

He saw a foul smell and a floor mixed with filth that made him not want to step on it just by looking.

It was an alley near where vagrants stayed.

Krais's question was directed at Jaxon.

Encrid also turned his gaze slightly.

While he was getting various items, he had asked whether Jaxon could obtain Whistle Daggers.

"I can obtain them."

Jaxon had said that and told him to follow.

That was how they had set out.

He had thought Jaxon would not have time for this lately, since he was so busy.

He had been going around the red-light district and various other places, barely even coming into the barracks.

Jaxon did not even pretend to hear Krais's words.

If he thought something had no value, he did not react.

It was the usual Jaxon.

It was a silence that meant this was the right place.

Sometimes, silence could be an answer.

Krais had asked, but he did not press the matter.

It was not as if he could not go in just because it was a little dirty.

"This way."

Jaxon spoke indifferently and went inside.

Encrid followed after him.

He had meant to find a blacksmith, and a skilled one at that.

But he already knew that there was no answer on that side either.

Had he not already made Krais look into it as much as possible?

The Frog followed behind Encrid as well.

For some reason, Esther had come along too.

When they entered the alley piled with filth, Esther climbed the wall and walked along the rooftops as her path.

"That thing's an uncanny creature."

Luagarne said after seeing that.

Encrid half agreed.

She really was almost like a person.

Luagarne wore boots made specifically for Frogs.

They had a peculiar shape, with eight cords that tightly bound the instep and a support made of hard wood.

Every time she walked, the stone floor met the shoes with a clacking sound.

"This is the place."

Jaxon stopped and said.

If they were going to leave for a journey, especially for a mission, there were many things to prepare, and among them Encrid wanted to keep some Whistle Daggers on hand.

"... There are a lot of customers today."

An old woman who had spread out a stall right in front of the open door said.

A crystal ball, faded curly blond hair, wrinkled hands.

A fortune-teller.

"You're saying they're here?"

Encrid had experienced all sorts of things.

Black markets?

He had been to quite a few.

During his mercenary days, he had even seen illegal slave markets held in secret.

But not a black market, and instead an old fortune-teller?

Whistle Daggers were difficult items to obtain.

They were weapons that could not easily be seen even in black markets.

And she was saying a fortune-teller like this had them?

"Yes."

Jaxon answered and spoke with a gesture.

It was sign language.

Encrid did not know what that sign language meant, but it seemed to be the right signal, because the old fortune-teller blew out a huff through her nose.

Encrid was probably not the only one who felt that act of blowing air through her nose looked like permission.

"What are you looking for?"

The fortune-teller asked.

"Whistle Daggers, as many as possible."

Encrid answered.

"The payment?"

"From this side."

Encrid put Krais forward.

"Yes, I'll have to pay."

Even though it was clear he was stepping forward reluctantly, from the outside he looked hearty.

Since he had already decided to spend, Krais properly opened his purse.

Was it not true that one had to invest in order to gain profit?

"I will send them to the unit."

"Do you know who I am?"

At Encrid's question, the old fortune-teller cackled.

"In this city right now, there may be people who do not know the Battalion Commander's name, but there will be no one who does not know yours."

What was that supposed to mean now?

He was about to ask more, but the fortune-teller folded up the stall as it was and began gathering her crystal ball and tools.

"Then, farewell."

What could he ask while grabbing hold of the old woman slipping right into her house like that?

Seeing her put things away, it was not a skill she had done only once or twice.

She folded the stall in no time, and the tidying was finished in just a few breaths.

Sometimes, he did wonder.

How did Jaxon know places like this?

It was an item even Krais had given up on, saying he could not obtain it.

Even so, he did not ask how Jaxon knew.

Their purpose was the Whistle Daggers, not Jaxon's past.

"Will she really get them for us?"

"I can't trust this at all."

Krais muttered beside him.

He was a friend whose default was to suspect everything.

"If she can't get them, that's that."

Encrid said and moved his feet.

Since he was out already, he planned to pick up various things from the market.

For instance, he wanted to stop by a jerky shop with excellent seasoning and a blacksmith to have his armor looked at.

The weather was hot, so it would be unreasonable to wear a gambeson underneath.

But that did not mean he could set out bare-bodied.

He thought loose-fitting leather armor might be good.

He had thrown away the leather armor he originally wore.

He had tried to wear it at least roughly, but one day Esther had torn it all up with her claws.

"I wonder if I should pay for the armor by selling your claws."

When that thought occurred to him, he said it to Esther, who was walking on the roof.

"Grr."

The panther let out a low growl.

It sounded as though she were saying not to be ridiculous.

Encrid had only tossed it out.

In other words, it was a joke.

After setting out like that and stopping by the jerky shop to place various orders.

"Thank you."

The owner greeted him out of nowhere.

"For what?"

When Encrid tilted his head, the owner bowed his head twice more outright.

Through the crown of his head, specks of white gray hair were visible.

"I'm grateful."

"As the mother of a good-for-nothing son, how could I take crona from the person who saved my boy?"

"Take as much as you want."

"Huh?"

Encrid did not know.

He had simply fought with all his strength.

He had risked his life and charged in.

He had simply struggled desperately to move forward.

And because he had struggled desperately, then stepped forward and fought.

"Thank you."

"Without my son, this body would have no meaning in living either."

He was thanked by a mother who had raised her son alone.

The battlefield.

What had happened there.

There were many people whose lives had been saved thanks to Encrid.

And all of them were people rooted in the Border Guard.

"Give me only half for that armor."

"If it's a leather waterskin, I think this one would be better."

"Are your boots still holding up?"

"I have some newly made ones too."

"If you bring that platoon member along, I'm thinking of measuring him myself and making them all."

"Flowers are all I have to give."

"Take this."

"Want to try an apple at least?"

"I've gathered some dried fruit."

"Should I give you some charcoal at least?"

Like that, the market merchants who had not seen Encrid for three whole months treated their hero.

For Encrid, it was truly something he had never expected.

"Tch, now I'm in a good mood for no reason."

What Krais said beside him was how Encrid felt too.

It was not as though he had struggled desperately in order to save someone.

But protecting the people around him was also something he had kept in his heart.

A thought came to him anew.

What was a knight?

'Someone who protects.'

Someone who protects the smiles of his people and advances while building up his beliefs.

For Encrid, it was a very satisfying outing and day.