Chapter 421
“Ominousness is approaching.”
The purple lamp, the ferryboat floating on the black river, and the Ferryman.
It was a place so familiar by now that he could probably draw it with his eyes closed.
It was a dream, and he was aboard the Ferryman’s boat.
“What kind of ominousness are you talking about?”
Encrid asked as he sat on the edge of the boat. Just as he was wondering whether to cross his legs, the Ferryman turned his gaze toward him.
“I cannot tell you any more.”
It was exactly the sort of answer only a profoundly capricious person would give.
That was how Encrid saw the Ferryman.
Every time he met him, the Ferryman’s personality was different, his way of speaking changed, and he often said whatever he pleased.
Encrid wasn’t bad at dealing with people like that.
His experience wandering the continent to learn swordsmanship wasn’t for nothing.
Fighters, mercenaries, noble bodyguards, swordsmen attached to merchant groups, swordsmanship instructors at academies—plenty of them had been eccentric in their own ways.
And the strangest of them all were probably the members of his current company.
He had more than enough experience.
If you compared them purely by personality, the Ferryman might actually be easier to deal with than Rem.
In situations like this, there was no need to force agreement or show much emotion.
“I see.”
Encrid accepted it, then after a short pause, asked,
“How do you know ominousness is coming?”
The Ferryman did not answer. He truly seemed to have no intention of saying any more. His gaze remained fixed on Encrid.
Then, plop, his vision went dark.
When he opened his eyes, it was morning. The summer sun rose early, so even during his Isolation Technique training, the surroundings were already bright.
Encrid devoted himself to training as usual.
Jaxson, who had been troubled by something ever since leaving the Royal Palace, had become friendlier after sparring with him and had even spoken to the other company members, but now he had returned to his old self.
No, it went beyond that. Saying he had business to take care of, he left for several days, so he wasn’t even here.
If he had been, Encrid would have been ready for another sparring match, so it was a little disappointing.
“Good morning, Brother.”
A short while later, Audin came out after him.
Then Teresa, Dunbakel, Roford, and Pell followed.
“It’s intense this early in the morning.”
Pell remarked.
It was obvious at a glance. This wasn’t training meant to show off to anyone. He was simply doing what he always did.
“When are you going to take me on?”
He’d make a poor substitute, but better than nothing.
“Not yet.”
It was as if the ghost of someone who had died without getting in one last spar was clinging to him.
Pell’s hands were itching too. Still, it was obvious he would lose, so he had no intention of stepping forward.
A shepherd always moved efficiently, after all.
‘But there really is something about him that makes your blood boil.’
He was the kind of person who made something stir in your chest just by watching him.
Since he couldn’t force someone to fight who refused to, Encrid turned away and began pushing his body to the limit alongside Audin.
They started with striking techniques, then moved on to strange postures that stretched every muscle in the body as if tearing them apart.
“Muscles that have lost flexibility are useless lumps of flesh.”
Audin’s instruction continued.
Teresa oversaw Roford’s training, and Dunbakel, dripping with sweat, tried to follow Encrid’s training.
Morning training after a dream—whether it had been a nightmare or one of the Ferryman’s games—was simply part of the daily routine.
After that, various tasks awaited Encrid.
It had been about half a month since he returned to the Border Guards. The days were gradually becoming familiar.
For example, the battalion commander addressing him as “General.”
There was a mountain of work, but since Krys was determined to take it all head-on, Encrid himself didn’t actually have much to do.
“I think it would be best to standardize the soldiers’ equipment. After that, we can divide them by branch and begin training.”
Starting with training.
“That outpost will be expanded further later. To the level of a gatehouse. Right now, it only holds around twenty men, but we plan to make it capable of housing at least a hundred. Giving each one a name to create a sense of belonging should make them defend it more fiercely. That’s what I expect.”
Security.
“The nobles keep sending gifts. I’ll write the replies myself.”
Diplomacy.
“The Rockfreed Merchant Group, which has been doing excellent work, wants to open branches in nearby cities. Will you permit it? If not, Leona might get upset.”
Economy.
“I raised the soldiers’ pay, and I plan to select a few capable men and make them landowners. There’s plenty of good land, and it would be a waste to leave it unused. Still, since that land is Greenpearl, I’m thinking of building a few outposts near that gate.”
Even finances.
At this rate, even if Krys had ten bodies, it still wouldn’t be enough.
“Are you at least remembering to eat?”
Encrid asked while wiping away sweat. He was in the middle of weapon-control drills with a training sword about five times heavier than an iron sword.
“Huh?”
Krys turned his head.
“I’m asking whether you’re too busy.”
Even the genie from those Eastern Continent fairy tales, the one that appeared when you rubbed a lamp, probably wouldn’t work this hard.
“I’m busy in a reasonable way.”
“Did you raise your own pay too?”
“It’s already at the limit. If I get any more here, I’d be making more than the lord of the Border Guards.”
Well, at least he wasn’t the sort to neglect his own pocket.
Encrid nodded.
“And it’s not like I’m doing all the work. I just have to supervise from above.”
That was exactly what Krys was doing now. Krys had even made a seal somewhere and brought it back.
Originally, not even a general would count as a noble, but the current Encrid was different.
He now had enough power to slap any ordinary noble across the face two hundred and eighty times over without consequence.
That was only natural. An entire territory that had once belonged to the mastermind of the rebellion had been given to him, and he was known as the savior of the nation, the Demon Slayer, and the King’s friend.
“I brought Gilpin in to help with the work too. I’m pulling in people from all over. The Rockfreed Merchant Group has helped a lot as well. They handle a wide range of number-related tasks.”
Encrid left it to Krys to manage. Honestly, even if he stepped in himself, he probably wouldn’t have been able to handle it this well.
So Encrid boldly entrusted the work to Krys and only examined a few specific areas in detail.
One of them was the soldiers’ equipment.
“Spearmen, swordsmen, and shield bearers. Divide them into those three branches, and make the basic training cover handling every kind of weapon. And let’s standardize the equipment like this.”
The standard equipment for a swordsman was a longsword and a shortsword, a simple wrist-mounted crossbow Krys had put together by relentlessly hounding a blacksmith and several workshops, armor made of oiled linen padding covered with leather, arm guards and shin guards, three throwing knives, a hand axe, a kite shield, a leather helmet lined with cloth, a short club, and so on.
The simple crossbow was something he developed after remembering one used by bandits in the past.
Spearmen and archers were much the same aside from their main weapons.
‘With equipment this heavy, adding a backpack would be torture all by itself, wouldn’t it?’
Krys thought as he looked at his commander. Encrid caught on immediately and replied,
“Anyone who complains that it’s too hard gets sent back.”
There had been a time when the Border Guards’ standing forces were so short-handed that they accepted anyone and sent them straight to the front.
But that was no longer necessary.
“Instead of having a lot of soldiers, we’ll train a fixed number of elite troops.”
Krys agreed. After all, everything they were discussing now had been devised to improve the soldiers’ combat strength.
They had an office now, but they never used it, so these discussions in one corner of the training ground ended up deciding the soldiers’ future.
Swordsmen, spearmen, archers, shield bearers, cavalry, horse archers, and so on.
Encrid laid out the broad framework, and Krys added his own insight.
“Since we’re already at it, why not gather some decent soldiers and reorganize the subordinate units too? You do know we can’t keep remaining an independent company now, right?”
Encrid nodded.
He relayed what he and Krys had decided.
“Rem, pick out some good ones and form a unit.”
An assault unit. It would be good if they became the ones who charged in and ripped through the enemy when war broke out.
“Huh? You serious?”
Encrid hesitated for a moment. There was a real chance it wouldn’t become a unit at all, but just a bunch of half-broken soldiers.
“I said form a unit, not torment them.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Rem said as he rose.
“Don’t do your best.”
Encrid said it for the soldiers’ sake.
He gave Ragna the same task.
“It’s a bother.”
“Cavalry is fine, swordsmen are fine.”
“It’s a bother.”
After returning from the Royal Palace, Ragna had spent a few days absorbed in training, then gone straight back to his usual self, dozing off and lounging around in the barracks.
Aside from the times Roford dragged him out with groans and made him show his face at the training ground, he had gone right back to being as lazy as ever.
Roford, fearless as always, repeatedly asked Ragna for sparring matches.
Naturally, he often got beaten up or threatened with death.
“If you keep bothering me, I’ll cut off an arm or something.”
“I’ll work hard so it doesn’t get cut off!”
Even so, Roford didn’t back down. He was a friend with remarkable spirit. At least, that was how it looked on the surface.
Ragna was the sort to follow through on his words, but he probably wouldn’t really cut it off.
Probably.
Still worried, Encrid added a word of his own.
“Don’t cut it off.”
“I’ll think about it.”
The answer that came back was unsettling as hell.
Still, leaving Roford stuck to the man who refused to do anything because it was a bother was at least somewhat reassuring.
When it came to organizing a unit, Roford, who had been trained and educated in the royal guard, was more qualified.
Dunbakel was assigned to Rem.
If Rem tormented Dunbakel, he would probably torment the rest of the unit less.
He also told Audin.
“Good. Brother.”
Audin agreed readily. That made Encrid a little uneasy, so he assigned Teresa to him as well.
He figured that should, to some extent, take care of training elite soldiers.
They probably wouldn’t need many troops, either.
Encrid wasn’t the type to neglect work once it had been given to him. He did everything he could without cutting back on training or conditioning.
Thanks to Krys, his conditioning time didn’t really decrease either.
“Let’s just watch the training. Try doing what you normally do.”
Ruagarne had officially requested the Royal Palace to place her under Encrid’s command.
After that, she followed Encrid around like a duckling trailing after its mother.
After joining the Gilpin Guild, she beat up anyone who challenged her, and she even ran into Frok Maelrun, who was living in the city, but the two of them ignored each other.
They didn’t seem to have the slightest interest in one another.
When Encrid asked why, she answered:
“I am Frok.”
“So what does that mean?”
“Everyone lives according to their own desires, and that Frok’s desire is none of my concern, right?”
As before, Frok had no interest in anything outside their own concerns.
Ruagarne’s desire was the pursuit of the unknown, and strictly speaking, that was only possible because she was an academic Frok.
“What do you think is the essence of the Proper Sword Style?”
Ruagarne was helpful in many ways, especially in what she taught.
A great sparring partner was not necessarily a great teacher.
Looking at Rem, Ragna, Audin, and Jaxson made that clear enough.
Even if they were ordered to train soldiers, their talent for teaching was abysmal.
Geniuses were often like that.
In that sense, Ruagarne was a truly outstanding teacher.
“Calculation?”
“Implication and restraint.”
That was the essence.
Without actually swinging the sword, you should be able to move your opponent as you intend simply by showing a few hints.
“Swinging the sword is merely the action shown after the conclusion has already been reached.”
“But even when driven into the Proper Sword Style and then struck, Rem parried it immediately. What’s that about?”
“That axe man is a monster.”
Ruagarne’s eyes were good at recognizing talent. In her view, Rem was a monster.
“Ragna?”
“That kid is a monster with a sword.”
“Audin?”
“His body was monstrous from the start.”
“Jaxson?”
“A sinister monster?”
Ruagarne’s vocabulary wasn’t especially impressive, but Encrid largely agreed.
“And you are an incomprehensible monster.”
“Yes, is that so.”
Now and then, Sinar also came by as a sparring partner. Every time, she displayed techniques that sent chills down the spine.
And it always felt as though even that wasn’t everything she had. She still seemed to be holding something back.
“What? Did you think you could just beat someone like me, fiancé?”
“I think it’s about time you changed the way you address me at the end of every sentence too.”
“General fiancé?”
“Let’s not change it.”
Krys could even infer Krang’s thoughts from Encrid’s requests alone.
“War preparations.”
“Probably.”
“Hmm, so the opponent is Azpen?”
“Probably.”
Encrid answered vaguely and moved on, but Krys already seemed to understand everything.
He was a man whose head was a mystery.
Even while living his days like that, the Ferryman appeared every time he slept.
“Ominousness is approaching.”
He had been hearing the same words for fifteen days. Encrid wondered if perhaps the Ferryman wanted to hear him say he was sick of it.
After all, whenever he saw him, the Ferryman always called him a dreadful, tiresome man.
But he didn’t actually feel sick of it.
He was simply curious. Since it was something the Ferryman said, it had to be a wall. That was how he felt.
Truth be told, even the Ferryman could not know exactly what kind of ominousness it was.
If an event occurred and today repeated, he could see the predetermined future, but he could not know everything about events that had not yet happened.
That was something not even a god could do.
The Ferryman thought to himself.
‘No, even the repeating today changes.’
The man before him had shown him that.
That was the price.
“Ominousness is drawing near.”
The Ferryman offered a kindness.
“Yes, I look forward to seeing it.”
Seeing the master of the curse respond so calmly, the Ferryman felt a slight, very slight twist in his gut, but he did not withdraw his kindness.
“The ominousness is close.”
“Yes, is that so?”
Encrid was as calm as ever.
“Take it seriously. O foolish one who, by walking the mortal path, will ultimately arrive at the day of ruin.”
“Yes, I am serious.”
He did not look serious at all, only brimming with anticipation. The Ferryman found that deeply displeasing.