WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 162: It's Fine Even Without a Welcome

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After finishing off the hyena beasts, the group found a stream, washed up, and pulled out jerky to eat.

Eating, drinking, washing, these things matter. Especially on a long road. Catch a cold and the whole trip gets ten times harder.

"God, this flavor."

Finn looked a bit better.

The power of seasoned jerky.

Ruagarne ate dried fruit and edible caterpillars she'd prepared herself. She caught and ate a few cicada-like insects too.

Nobody's stomach turned. They already knew well enough that this was a Frog's meal.

"Insects keep you strong," she said, chewing a dried caterpillar.

Border Guard had no amenities built for Frogs. Meaning that lunchbox was Ruagarne's own doing. As long as she was satisfied, that was all it needed to be.

Esther, in that same spirit, also enjoyed the jerky. She chewed a few times, swallowed, and gave a satisfied toss of her head.

Is that really a panther? You could practically call her human.

Everyone filled their leather canteens from the stream and drank. The water was clear and cold.

Following the road, just as they crested a small hill, Enkrid caught an unpleasant smell.

Blood?

Death. Battlefield. That kind of smell, blood and iron, the reek of a killing ground.

Over the hill, the source became visible.

Beast carcasses, scattered everywhere. Wolf beasts, snakes, something that had once been a goat. Not a small number. Wounds from weapons, slashed, beaten, torn, and plenty of other bodies ripped clean to shreds. Signs that wild dogs had been feeding.

A beast, by nature, is an animal transformed under the influence of a demon's malice or a demon realm. The more carnivorous and aggressive the creature, the more easily and deeply it tends to be changed.

Still.

A lot.

Just as Finn had fumed before, this was no demon realm. Could there really be this many beasts in one stretch of land? Just counting the bodies lying around came to thirty.

A demon realm is land no human can enter, the origin point of demons and beasts alike. Kingdoms had charged in time and again, convinced they could subjugate such places. None had managed it. Instead they'd weakened themselves so badly that neighboring nations swallowed them whole. Deep in a demon realm's heart lies something that keeps spitting demons out, or so the common theory goes. Near an actual demon realm, thirty carcasses would barely qualify as a footnote.

After that, they didn't encounter another group of beasts.

"I want to say this is normal, but..."

Finn muttered.

She'd seen the carcasses too, scattered, dead, everywhere. A few Ghouls, but mostly beasts. Beasts far outnumbered demons.

Twenty-two days. Two behind schedule, thanks to the demons and beasts along the way, but they'd spent most of those days on the road, and now the pioneer village was finally in sight.

Their destination.

Tall wooden fencing rose before them. A solid palisade built to keep enemies out. A couple of watchtower-like structures sat above it. The scale was not small. If the kingdom had committed itself to developing this place, yes, it could grow to something like this. A village that almost rivaled a castle.

"Big place," Kraiss said.

"Yeah," Finn answered idly, scanning the surroundings.

As a Ranger, she'd had her frustrations on the road. But they'd made it, and that was enough. Nobody could be perfect at everything.

Enkrid didn't care about any of that. He simply walked toward the palisade.

Well-built defensive structure, that was his first thought. A pioneer village with serious investment behind it.

When Enkrid stated his unit affiliation at the gate, the doors opened.

The sharp-eyed man on the watchtower above twitched an eyebrow.

A thoroughly unpleasant-looking face.

Makes you want to punch it.

That kind of face. Enkrid, who generally had no interest in other people's business, was looking at a face that made him want to do exactly that.

From inside, the wall, the gates, all of it was solid timber. A stout palisade, not quite castle-wall level, but comparable in height and mass. In the center of the village stood a tall flagpole and a raised platform, the village square, obviously.

Stepping inside, the village headman came out.

He was a young man, around the same age as Enkrid. Ordinary face, but his eyes were full of confidence.

"Welcome."

His tone, his manner, his gaze, all of it told Enkrid they weren't particularly welcome here. Maybe that sharpened gut sense of his. Even with Ruagarne in tow, the headman genuinely had no interest in welcoming any of them.

* * *

"This place does fine on its own."

"We already drove off a major bandit outfit nearby."

"Ever heard of the Black Blade Bandits? They don't even dare look at us."

"We're grateful Frog came, and grateful a commander made the trip, but as you can see, this is no small village."

"So you're a squad leader, is it? Decent with a sword, I imagine?"

"Among our people, there's someone who used to run a mercenary company. Don't know if you've heard of him, a man called One-Eyed Glaive. He's our village guard captain now."

The sum of their reception:

"We've got this handled, so feel free to look around and say good things when you leave. The contract? Just mark it completed. The colony's already dealt with."

That's what it came down to.

The headman and those around him, the village's core authority, its backbone. No one was ancient. Mostly middle-aged to young. This was their stance: stay out of it. Most of the village population seemed to back them. The guards, or vigilantes, or whatever they called themselves, seemed almost openly hostile.

"That's fine," Enkrid said.

He didn't push to assert his command authority. There was no point.

A contract is a contract, work is work, and people are people.

They'd said they'd handle it themselves, so he let them.

Still, he decided to stay. A week at most, five days at least, watch carefully, confirm the place was actually safe, then head back and report. That would end it. Their stance was their own, and Enkrid accepted it without a second thought.

They'd been given a hastily built cabin as quarters.

Kraiss had gone off to look around the village when Ruagarne asked, "We're just staying put? Looking around and that's it?"

"I was thinking I'd spend the time training."

"Here too? Sure, that works."

He was still getting used to Enkrid. This man could swing a sword anywhere.

There were plenty of open lots near the cabin. Several houses still going up. In an empty clearing nearby, Enkrid drew his sword.

Who was watching, when had he ever cared about that.

The basics of the Correct and Precise Sword, layered with the Sense of Evasion. The things he'd been most absorbed in lately. Everything he'd picked up along the road poured through his body now, shaking loose and settling in. He swung and swung again, forgot himself, and stepped cleanly into a world where only the sword remained. Inside that world, he turned over everything Ruagarne had taught him.

Enkrid began swinging hard.

Kraiss was busy poking around every corner of the village. They'd expected an outsider to be shunned, but he'd blended in surprisingly well.

That's a skill too, Ruagarne thought.

Kraiss had a way of reading what someone wanted to hear and scratching exactly that itch. Ruagarne watched him pass.

"Want a smoke?"

A single hand-rolled cigarette was enough to earn goodwill. That's how he struck up a friendship with a bearded man who worked near the quarry.

"Impressive stuff. Took real guts coming all the way out here, didn't it? A pioneer village. Wow. Yeah, that's a man right there."

A few words and he had them charmed.

He's got a way with words too.

That kind of person wasn't rare in the kingdom. The ones they called politicians, nobles living off the kingdom's grain, bureaucrats.

Wonder if he'd fit in with them.

By any ordinary measure, the road here had been harrowing. Not that there'd been any real danger given the group's strength, but even so, watching him bounce around this actively the moment they arrived, it was still something.

Frog's gaze swept to the rest of the group.

Esther had her paws hooked over the cabin windowsill, staring steadily at her owner. Finn was inside, catching up on sleep. Ruagarne had nothing particular to do. With time to spare, she went to help Enkrid train. So that's what she did.

As she did, old connections surfaced in her mind, one by one. Specifically, the so-called geniuses who had passed through her hands over the years.

Every last one of them had been, well, born of dogs.

Right. Exactly. Born of dogs.

"I think that's enough for today."

"Do I have to learn more?"

"I've got plans at the salon tonight."

"Hold on, do you like me? I have no interest in some kind of spiritual love thing with a Frog, so if you'd kindly back off."

"This is my limit. I genuinely cannot go further."

The talented ones were all the same.

Just a little practice and the technique would settle into their bodies. No bone-grinding discipline to speak of. Spitting blood from training was near impossible for them. They barely filled their training hours. Born with bodies that wrung absurd efficiency from every hour of work, they'd dried their own willpower out like empty wells.

A sword, in the end, requires controlling the body and moving it exactly as intended. That is the fundamental condition.

These people were born with it. Geniuses who needed only a few repetitions before a skill imprinted itself, people unaccustomed to genuine effort.

Hmph.

Just thinking about it made her cheeks puff up.

If the fundamental condition is already met, what comes next.

You swing, you run, you roll, diligently, day after day. But how many people like that had she ever met? Really, truly, almost none. Extraordinarily rare.

Even though most of them had been, in that way, completely useless.

There were exceptions.

But the gods are not fair.

A memory surfaced, not quite sad, but not pleasant either.

Her first lover. A man who never thought about tomorrow, always giving everything to the moment right in front of him.

"Training is fun."

The things that man used to say. Those came back too.

Ruagarne chewed on the memory quietly. She had been young then, far more passionate than now.

Of course, Frogs don't lose their desire just because they age.

They are a hedonistic race. A warrior race that lives by its own appetites and cravings.

The memory blurred and the man in front of her filled her eyes instead. Her mouth opened without meaning to.

"Are you enjoying it?"

Enkrid glanced at her and nodded.

"Yes. I am."

Drenched in sweat. Black hair and blue eyes, different from the man she'd once loved. He, too, had been greatly talented. Had he survived, had the gods' unfairness not settled on him, he might have become a Knight.

But the man in front of her is not that. Still, she couldn't shake why they kept overlapping in her mind.

Just memories. A faded past. Something that had become pain rather than pleasure.

Ruagarne was a Frog, so she threw the unpleasant memory aside. Live each day fully, give in to desire, honor your vows, that was enough.

"Boss, boss."

In the brief moment Ruagarne had drifted, Kraiss came trotting over and called out to Enkrid.

"It's quite serious, actually. A quarry, a training ground, and apparently a barracks on the way. Word is there's a noble lord backing them from above."

Not even half a day and he'd picked up this much.

Kraiss raised a finger toward the sky as he spoke. Someone with power had their hand in this place.

Without backing like that, a scale this large would be hard to pull off.

"Defense?" Enkrid asked, giving a nod.

What would happen if a large horde of beasts came crashing in? The original contract was to eliminate the colony of beasts that had formed. Command authority had been granted to make use of the village's self-defense force. But that door was closed now.

Could the village handle a colony on its own? If something happened later, were these people safe? This was a job he'd taken on. He was going to do it properly.

A contract is a contract, work is work, and people are people. He needed to know what he needed to know.

Kraiss hadn't just been wandering around aimlessly.

He and Enkrid were a better match than one might expect. A single look and Kraiss brought back everything worth knowing.

"Excellent. Whoever the former mercenary company commander is, he's trained them properly. I'm no expert, but at least their discipline is solid. Units with solid discipline don't fall apart easily. The men on the watchtowers too, friendly enough with their mouths, but their eyes are brutal. Absolutely brutal."

The watchtower. Those eyes. That face.

Still rubbed him the wrong way. Just a feeling. Probably some bandit-turned-mercenary type.

Maybe so. Either way, probably nothing to worry about at this point.

So what now.

"Since it's come to this, boss, what if we go look for some trea-"

"Ruagarne."

Before Kraiss could finish, Enkrid called the Frog's name.

He snapped out of his reverie, those bulging eyes rolling around.

"Let's spar."

Training and practice, the same as always.

Already a handful of onlookers had gathered to watch Enkrid. A true oddity among oddities. Even here, he looked like he'd spend the whole day swinging a sword.

"Should we use wooden swords?"

Frog asked.

"Kraiss."

Instead of answering, Enkrid called his capable subordinate's name.

Even as unwelcome guests, getting hold of two wooden practice swords ought to be within reach.

"We're not going treasure hunting?"

Kraiss asked, at the unspoken request. His tone was earnest. Of course it was, Krona was on the line.

"I'm starting to lean toward going."

"...I'll get the wooden swords."

Enkrid had a more cunning side than he let on, and Kraiss knew it well enough.

He keeps his word.

If he was leaning toward it, that was halfway there.

Kraiss set off at his usual quick pace. From behind came a sound, a chittering kik-kik.

Turning around: Esther. The panther was laughing. A very distinctive laugh.

"Have you always laughed like that?"

Enkrid asked, genuinely curious. Esther acted dignified, acted like she hadn't been laughing at all, stretched her neck long, turned it sideways, and set her head down on her front paw.

No chance of getting an answer.

Kraiss returned shortly with wooden swords somehow, and the sparring resumed.

There was a reason Ruagarne had asked for wooden swords.

"It's a Game of Moves."

It was the same method he'd used to teach his exceptionally talented lover, once. Enkrid had no way of knowing that, of course.

He was simply busy enjoying it.

New training. A new form of swordwork.

It was fun. Discipline that drew more from the mind than from raw physical ability, refining the Correct Sword down to its bones.

Where to block the opponent's blade. How to twist it away.

Every choice laid the ground for the next. Moves set like traps, all of them building toward a win.

Slow, deliberate, wooden blades pressing together, sequences taking shape.

"What is that?"

"They're just playing?"

"What, a support team from the kingdom? This is a vacation, not a deployment?"

The onlookers began to murmur.

Word spread: there's someone here sparring with a Frog like it's recreation.

Large as it was, this was still a pioneer village. Outside the self-defense force, the civilian population was two hundred at most. Rumors circulated that the commander sent from Border Guard was a layabout who'd brought along one woman and one Frog. Frog was the bodyguard, apparently. The woman was the guide. And they'd brought along a big-eyed attendant and a pet.

Enkrid didn't care.

Back when he was the troublemaking squad leader, worse rumors had followed him around. He hadn't cared then either.

"Ugh, you're swinging a sword again? All the way out here?"

Finn had taken a long nap and woken up to find Enkrid soaked through with sweat. She clicked her tongue.

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