Eternally Regressing Knight - Chapter 22: Arbitrary Reassignment

The 4th Platoon Leader uttered some trivial words, which Encrid half-listened to, sensing the leader had something significant to say.

“If you have something to say, feel free to say it.”

He was drenched in sweat but enjoying the cool breeze. It was the perfect moment, a blend of relaxation and the enjoyment of the wind. So, he hoped the leader would quickly say his piece and leave.

“…I need you to transfer to the scouting unit and undertake a mission,” said the 4th Platoon Leader, arms crossed.

His posture reflected not a commander’s firmness but a defensive stance.

Encrid thought about it.

The scouting unit?

This wasn’t a common reassignment. Moreover, he knew his position was quite ambiguous. The only reason he could stay as a squad leader was because this was the 444th squad.

And now, they wanted to move him to the scouting unit?

“Are you okay with taking our squad leader?” Rem interjected suddenly, sticking his head over Encrid’s shoulder.

Rem rested his chin on Encrid’s shoulder, their height difference minimal, allowing him to lean comfortably.

“Are you serious?” Rem asked, half-smiling but clearly signaling his protest.

“It’s an order, Rem,” the 4th Platoon Leader glared, but it was a bluff. Encrid could tell at a glance.

Rem was a troublemaker, a berserker with his axes when things didn’t go his way. Trying to impose authority on him was futile. Both Encrid and the platoon leader knew this.

“Rem,” Encrid said, shrugging his shoulder to push Rem back before he could say more.

“Fine, do whatever you want,” Rem grumbled, stepping back.

“I can go instead,” Ragna offered, having observed silently.

“Are you planning to get lost?” Rem snickered. Ragna suppressed his anger, knowing it was a fair point.

Ragna was notoriously bad at navigation. Even with a map and detailed instructions, he often ended up in the wrong place.

The 4th Platoon Leader shook his head at Ragna.

“Considering everything, I am the most suitable,” Encrid thought.

His ambiguous status had significance within the 444th squad. Even a week’s absence had caused quite a stir. And now they specifically called for him?

It meant they had no one else.

The talk of a curse had quickly died down, but its impact lingered. Bora, Jack, and Rotten were all scouts, leaving them short-handed.

“Sigh, it’s troublesome. One of our platoon leaders has fallen ill and can’t move,” said the 4th Platoon Leader, his face showing fatigue.

It was enough to make one believe in the curse, given how it only affected the reconnaissance platoon.

The platoon leader looked genuinely exhausted, not really wanting to call on Encrid.

‘This feels oddly suspicious.’

Seeing Encrid’s prolonged gaze, the platoon leader sighed deeply.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’ll explain everything.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t give me that look.”

‘What did I do?’

Encrid was just staring, but the platoon leader’s overreaction made him sigh.

“Why the evil glare? Think about the person receiving it. Especially when it’s your superior,” Rem chuckled.

Ignoring Rem’s joke was the best course. Encrid looked back at the platoon leader, indicating he was listening.

“We promoted a squad leader to a temporary platoon leader to increase the number of scouts, but we’re still short. So, we were ordered to pull people from various units. The higher-ups suggested you as a candidate.”

“The higher-ups?”

“The new company commander. You’re not in trouble, are you?”

Sending Encrid to the scouting unit to silence him discreetly?

No, if that were the case, there were more efficient ways to handle it without such formality.

Encrid judged it was just a casual suggestion.

“It’s an order from the top. So, please go.”

Rem glared, and Ragna offered again to go instead. Meanwhile, the last squad member was praying fervently, asking God not to take their squad leader away.

The 4th Platoon Leader couldn’t hide his astonishment.

Who said anything about taking him away? And who was fragile?

The praying soldier’s biceps flexed, almost as thick as an average soldier’s thigh.

“Just this once. Winter is coming soon, and this campaign will end,” said the platoon leader.

In the next deployment, they wouldn’t assign the 444th squad leader to the scouts.

Encrid understood. There wouldn’t be many battles continuing into winter. The campaign would likely pause.

This wasn’t something to ponder deeply. Such assignments were common.

Even if he lacked combat talent, he was above average in other tasks, including reconnaissance.

However, the recent injury and his absence made his squad reluctant to let him go.

‘I am indeed the most suitable.’

It wasn’t baseless confidence. If he got lost and died, he would repeat the day. This mission was advantageous for him.

He excelled at recognizing and avoiding danger.

“It’s an order, 4th Squad Leader,” the platoon leader insisted, sounding almost desperate.

Encrid turned to see Rem sharpening his axe, Ragna reiterating his willingness to go, and the praying soldier murmuring about being tested by God.

‘What a mess.’

Encrid felt like they would revolt if he got hurt.

Had it always been like this?

No, they hadn’t been this involved with each other when he first joined.

‘Were things that tough while I was gone?’

Even Krys shook his head.

But orders were orders. Unlike his unruly squad members, Encrid wasn’t one to defy commands.

“I have to go.”

Encrid exhaled deeply and spoke. Orders from the top couldn’t be defied. While there were ways to avoid it, they weren’t necessary.

His words settled the atmosphere. It was natural; despite his title, he was the leader of this six-man squad.

“Do whatever you want,” Rem snorted.

“I’m telling you, I can go,” Ragna persisted, but it was futile.

Someone who got lost even within the camp couldn’t be a scout.

Encrid found it amazing how Ragna managed his wandering life, claiming to have reached the eastern sea. Was it because he got lost?

He didn’t bother to ask.

Encrid always kept a reasonable distance from his squad. He didn’t pry unless necessary, respecting their boundaries.

“Fine, let’s go,” said the 4th Platoon Leader, walking away lighter than before.

As the platoon leader left, a minor commotion broke out in the barracks.

“Are you still practicing what you learned?” asked Jaxson, half-lying on his bunk.

Jaxson’s bunk was the furthest in, while Encrid’s was the closest to the entrance. Everyone could hear Jaxson’s voice.

Encrid nodded reflexively. Having learned auditory training from Jaxson, he thought it was a fair question.

Rem, however, seemed displeased.

“What did you learn?”

Encrid had learned bits and pieces from many squad members, including Rem, Ragna, and the devout soldier. Mostly survival tactics for the battlefield.

He had learned diligently, though not mastering everything.

The Heart of the Beast was one of the few things that truly stuck.

However, he hadn’t learned anything from Jaxson.

“What did you teach him?” Rem, sitting up, asked.

“Keep at it. It’s beneficial,” Jaxson ignored Rem completely.

A flame of anger sparked in Rem’s eyes.

“This bastard?”

“Don’t,” Encrid grabbed Rem’s shoulder before he could act.

“Learning from that sneaky guy will only teach you bad habits.”

“Hmph,” Jaxson scoffed.

“Oh, you’re asking to die, huh? Today’s the day you feed the monsters on the plains, right?” Rem taunted.

Jaxson ignored him.

Encrid sighed and pulled Rem back.

“Enough. We’re not here to kill each other.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll survive.”

That’s not what I meant.

“Who will survive?”

“Oh, Lord, may I lift this faithless soul to heaven? If allowed, I shall,” said the devout squad member.

“Enough, enough, enough. I’ll stop you no matter how many times you fight. Don’t waste your energy.”

Encrid wondered if going on this scouting mission was the right choice.

Was it right to leave these guys?

“Don’t worry too much. They usually don’t go too far. They clash weapons a few times and stop,” said Krys, counting silver coins.

That was the problem. To others, it looked like they were trying to kill each other.

Despite their troublemaking nature, their commanders didn’t dismiss them because of their exceptional abilities.

In battle, they were soldiers with superior combat skills.

Thus, it was appropriate for Encrid to leave for the scouting unit.

‘I’m not a significant loss in combat strength.’

But these guys were different.

Realizing this, Encrid acknowledged his own limitations.

‘I have no talent.’

He had lost to a twelve-year-old. Even if the child was a prodigy, losing to a kid who barely handled a sword was a harsh realization.

It wasn’t a matter of pride or despair.

It simply made him self-reflect.

Did he give up?

No.

He kept analyzing the situation, understanding himself better each time.

So, was this the end?

No.

If he had no talent—

‘Eventually.’

He would keep moving forward, even if only by half a step at a time.

And Encr

id never stopped moving.

Feeling restless, Encrid grabbed his sword and went outside. He needed to swing his sword and sweat a bit to feel sleepy.

Ragna, seeing this, followed.

“Let’s check your stance.”

“I’m here too,” Rem got up belatedly.

Their eyes met, and a fierce tension arose.

It seemed like a whirlpool would form where their gazes met.

“Consistent practice will help more than sloppy sword swings,” Jaxson, lying down, said.

Both Rem and Ragna’s eyes turned to Jaxson.

“Sloppy?”

“Swing?”

“Didn’t you say you’d check my stance?” Encrid intervened.

Managing to calm them down, Encrid led them outside the barracks.

He swung his sword, taking half advice, half scolding from the two.

Another sweaty day passed.

At dawn, he had to join the scouting unit.

He wasn’t too worried.

He didn’t think it would be too difficult.

After sweating, everyone seemed less irritated.

After washing in the stream, Encrid slept soundly.

* * *

“Company Commander, why specifically assign that guy to the scouts?”

The elven company commander spoke to the 1st Platoon Leader standing near the torch stand.

“Step away from the torch stand. It could catch fire if it falls.”

“Yes?”

“Step aside.”

“Yes.”

The 1st Platoon Leader stepped back.

The commander’s tent was taller and wider than the regular ones. They had set a torch stand in the center for light.

It was crude, but there was also a table for meetings.

This was where they planned the company’s reconnaissance routes.

The 1st Platoon Leader had asked during one such meeting.

It was a fair question.

The 1st Platoon Leader also served as the commander’s aide, a long-standing tradition in the Cypress Division.

“Because a soldier with sharp instincts and a knack for survival fits the bill.”

“I see.”

It wasn’t a heavily weighed decision.

It was an instinctual choice.

There wasn’t a particular reason. If asked, the commander would say it was just a hunch.

Of course, the commander’s judgment was correct.

The elf’s intuition was sometimes sharper than a prophet’s words.