WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 218: Making Them Come to You Instead of Going to Them

= = =

Not expecting it meant he had never hoped for it in the first place.

And more than that, it meant he did not want it.

'Me, a Battalion Commander?'

Handling Rem and the rest of the unit, and keeping a Beastkin like Dunbakel in line, was already a hassle.

More than anything, he wanted to swing his sword one more time. It was a natural urge, and a desire.

A dream he had never been able to reach felt close enough for his fingertips to brush it.

Anyone would curl and stretch their fingers in desperation, trying to pull that dream closer.

It was that kind of moment, one where he wanted to drown in desire, not responsibility.

And now he was being told to oversee the whole city?

Maybe he would welcome something like that one day, but not now.

He even felt ridiculous trying to justify it with reasons.

If he somehow became Battalion Commander, what then?

Rem's response came to mind vividly.

"Battalion Commandeeeer? Then I'll be a Company Commander. Give me my company men."

Then he would grind dozens of soldiers into the dirt and send them into honorable discharge.

Everyone would be too busy running away.

Come to think of it, leaving a Beastkin like Dunbakel in Rem's hands might have been a mistake.

Not that Enkrid had any intention of stepping in now.

So the answer was already set.

He did not want it right now.

"No, thank you."

His thoughts ran long, but his mind moved fast. Fast enough that you could say there was no hesitation at all. He was asked, and he answered at once.

"Knew you'd say that."

Marcus nodded as if it were obvious. He looked completely unbothered. Still, he added:

"Let's say I ask two more times, for a total of three offers. If you change your mind, tell me anytime."

"Understood."

Enkrid answered lightly again.

"All right, then tell me why. I should at least know your reason for refusing."

Marcus laced his fingers and rested his chin on them. It seemed to be a habit. Enkrid had seen that posture often.

He did not sense real curiosity in it, but he answered anyway. If asked, you answer. That was proper.

And it was a superior's question.

Standing straight in front of the table, Enkrid spoke.

"The 1st Company Commander won't accept it."

There would be internal backlash first.

The 1st Company Commander had always been the man closest to becoming the next Battalion Commander. With the Frontier Defense Captain now in charge of Martai, should this seat not go to him?

Even if they crushed his objections and forced it through, having a malicious subordinate directly below him would never end well.

"So you have political sense too."

Marcus kept his chin on his clasped hands as he spoke. Maybe that was not enough for him, because he asked again:

"Any other reason?"

"I do not particularly need the Battalion Commander seat."

"...Saying you do not need this seat is unusual. Even more so because it does not sound like an excuse."

Marcus dropped the pose and leaned back in his chair. Only now did he seem interested.

Enkrid knew this man had more than a few snakes in his gut.

It did not matter, so he kept talking smoothly.

No need really meant no need.

If he wanted to become a knight, skill came first. Force came first. Qualities as a commander came later.

Of course, if those qualities became necessary, he would build them into his body and learn from scratch.

Was that not how he had always lived? Throwing his body into it, risking his life, dying, and learning whenever something became necessary?

But right now, it was not necessary.

He had felt his lack of skill again.

No, lack was not the right word.

It was thirst.

Starting with Zimmer's thrust, and everything before that, there were countless things left to engrave into himself and learn.

He had awakened to something in Battalion Commander Marcus's strategy too. The road ahead was still very, very long.

He wanted to walk that road.

It was the road toward a faded dream. That was why he wanted to put responsibility off for later.

That was his true inner feeling.

Even Enkrid had only realized it now. A few spoken lines had made him see where he stood.

That was how it worked. You had to dig into yourself to know yourself.

"I'm still lacking in swordsmanship."

Enkrid answered.

"If that's lacking, then more than half the soldiers should go out and die."

Marcus said that, then clapped once as if he understood.

"Well, if a man says he doesn't want a pouch of Krona, it's hard to force it into his hand."

Marcus muttered that, then instead of telling him to leave, asked about the recent regional situation.

Enkrid answered as if it were obvious.

"The surrounding situation is going to keep getting worse, isn't it?"

He said it by instinct, but the problem really was surfacing.

It just had not become visible yet, since only a few days had passed since the battle ended.

Most of all, this battle had ended in a flash.

They had expected a long chain of sieges, but strategy shattered that.

First by hiding Enkrid, second by opening Martai's gate.

Because of that, the enemy army and its commander lost morale and surrendered all at once.

If they had fought from the start while openly showing all their strength, they might have spilled far more blood than expected.

Either way, Marcus already knew the truth about the regional climate.

As scale grew and a city gained power, problems grew with it.

And in the current situation, it would be hard to expect help from the center.

The board had changed like this, and the Frontier Guard had been pulled from the Border Guard. That weakened allied strength.

On top of that, they had picked a fight with the Black Blades, swallowed Martai, and taken a position that threatened nearby nobles.

On a personal level, Enkrid had killed cultists too.

"That is why I offered you the Battalion Commander seat."

"What changes if I take it?"

"People are impressed when the commander is absurdly strong."

That still seemed separate from commanding the whole city.

"Also, to be honest, the 1st Company Commander won't even hold dissatisfaction over it."

Marcus added that.

People only pick fights they think they can win. This one was a monster. The 1st Company Commander rebelling? No chance.

He might resent it inside, but outwardly he would have every reason to accept it.

That was Marcus's view, but Enkrid disagreed.

When people lose what they marked as theirs, or what they were sure would be theirs, that twisted them the most.

Their thoughts differed, but it caused no problem.

Enkrid would not accept it, and Marcus did not truly intend to give it.

Inwardly, Marcus thought it would be more interesting to give Enkrid a bigger seat than this.

Besides, once someone became a knight, territory came naturally.

'When did I start believing this guy would become a knight?'

Marcus thought that to himself, apart from what he said aloud.

"Then at least take the post of Training Company Commander."

From that point on, it was Marcus's unilateral decision. The Frontier Guard had left its post, but as a substitute, it was not easy to quickly increase the size of the Madmen Company.

Or rather, they would try, but still.

"It would be better not to expect too much."

Had the Elf Company Commander not said the same thing?

Had she not said Rem was an expert at grinding people down?

That if people joined, most of them would probably desert?

So this was his next strategy.

'Give them belonging, rank, legitimacy, and work.'

Enkrid already got excited over training, so teaching suited him.

That was how the new post called Training Company Commander was created.

"Yes, understood."

Enkrid accepted this one easily. It surprised Marcus, but Enkrid had been thinking something similar.

What was best for the city's safety?

Raise the overall quality of the troops.

What did they need to do for that?

'Make them grind.'

He would not demand they do as much as he did, but if training time increased and effort became mandatory, skill would improve.

Was he not proof of that himself?

For the Border Guard standing army under the commanders, this would have been terrifying news.

But in this room, there were only Marcus and Enkrid.

"Then."

"Right."

Enkrid withdrew with a military salute. The title of Training Company Commander mattered, but first came the victory party.

At that party, his merit from this battle would be recognized.

Everything else would come after.

Until then, Enkrid planned to sharpen what he had newly seen and felt.

As always, time was more precious than gold coins.

Especially these days, he had not even been meeting a wall.

'Is the Boatman being lazy?'

If the Boatman had heard that, he would not even have laughed.

Then, two days later, the victory party was held.

"Whoa! A glorious battle! A fight that swallowed Martai and announced the birth of this region's new rising star, a hero!"

After this battle, Enkrid's name spread in one stroke, beyond the City-class tier.

Was it because he shouted his own name in the middle of the battlefield?

He did not know.

Maybe it mattered, maybe it did not. There was no way to know.

As everyone ate, drank, shouted, and roared in celebration, Enkrid's mind was elsewhere.

'Experience.'

Digesting past experience was one thing, but he considered that stagnation.

Now he wanted something beyond merely digesting what he already had.

Did that mean he needed adventure? Did he need to leave this place?

For new patterns, new experiences?

What he had realized after seeing Marcus's strategy stirred his thoughts again.

"What are you thinking about so hard?"

Rem asked from the side. He held pumpkin pie in one hand and distilled liquor in the other. The sharp smell of alcohol stung Enkrid's nose. It was close to hard liquor.

Rem seemed happily busy soaking his gut in booze.

Enkrid sat on a chair by one of the market stalls.

People were drinking in broad daylight.

Even so, soldiers and citizens, children and adults alike, kept sneaking looks at Enkrid.

Well, he was the hero of this battle.

Of course, Rem and the other members of the Madmen Company were getting attention too.

But they had never cared about other people's eyes anyway.

In the middle of it, Jaxon had vanished at some point.

Maybe he had gone to the red-light district again.

"I was thinking about how many strong fighters I could meet if I wandered the continent."

It was an honest answer.

Rem snorted a laugh when he heard it.

"I've wandered plenty, so I know. That ain't easy. You hear rumors and go looking for some guy who's supposed to fight well, and most of them are all mouth."

"True."

Ragna, now standing on the opposite side, agreed.

His cheeks were red, maybe from a few drinks. Still, he did not look drunk. He had probably not had much.

Hadn't he said he was not the type who enjoyed alcohol?

Either way, judging from what they said, both had clearly wandered the continent.

"Is that so?"

Enkrid asked, feeling a strange thirst.

What exactly was this thirst?

Was it just because he wanted to fight more? No, it was not that simple.

Was he desperate to train his sword? That did not feel right either.

Was this some compulsion from not being able to repeat today? Was he waiting for repeated death?

For Enkrid, repeating today, walls, and the Boatman were all separate matters.

He had joked and blamed the Boatman to himself, but for him, it did not matter whether today repeated or not.

The man he was now existed because he kept moving forward in silence.

He had only used repeated days as a tool on that path.

Even that, he thought, had settled into his body by coincidence upon coincidence.

So this thirst was something else.

Something completely different.

It had appeared after he grasped the form of the Correct Sword.

He simply wanted to clash with people scattered across the vast continent.

In other words, competitive spirit.

You could call it boiling fighting spirit too.

'Fight and gain experience.'

That was the path to making his stitched-together dream whole.

Until now, whenever he learned something new, he had always been dragged into it.

This time was different.

After seeing Marcus's strategy, Enkrid had identified what he lacked. Melt old experience down and build a tower of new experience, that was a milestone he had discovered and set for himself.

"Want me to gather rumors about fighters who are good with blades and all that?"

It was bald Gielpin. No one knew when he had shown up either.

He looked pretty drunk too. Even so, his posture stayed proper. He was not the type to slip.

Hearing Gielpin, Enkrid thought.

If he got that list, then what? Leave now? Leave the city behind?

It was worth thinking about.

Kraiss, who had been watching quietly, suddenly spoke up.

"But Captain, there's an easier way. I don't get why you're talking about adventure and trying to become a drifter."

"What are you saying, Big Eyes?"

Rem asked between sips of liquor.

And truly, this big-eyed soldier had a different kind of head.

With eyes that big, the brain inside had to be solid too.

"After this battle, your name spread everywhere, and in Martai and Pioneer Village, we have plenty of people who can spread our words. Then it's easy. Don't go looking for them. Make them come to you."

Those few words from Kraiss were perfectly on point, like a lightning strike of realization.

Was Enkrid the only one with competitive spirit?

Any man who could fight would have it.

"That sounds plausible, Brother Big Eyes."

Audin agreed, and Dunbakel nodded beside him.

"Even among mercenaries, there were plenty who wandered around to hone their swords."

Dunbakel said it.

She was right.

"What about this? War-Ending Soldier. They'll come in lines. If you keep breaking them, the rumors spread again, and if you want, you can fight until you're sick of it, even until you die. Well, if this place turns into an actual battlefield, the number of challengers will drop hard."

"Kraiss, you handle it."

Enkrid was impressed.

So he gave him the most fitting reward.

A Krona pouch.

One pouch he had stashed away, thinking he might buy new armor this time, went into Kraiss's hand.

"Oh."

The way Kraiss snatched the pouch looked like he was stopping a flying dagger.

His hand was that fast.

"Thank you."

Kraiss grinned. Enkrid felt satisfied too.

"Spread the rumor well."

"Yes, don't worry!"

This was what a deal looked like when everyone walked away satisfied.

Rem smirked too.

All in all, it was a decent victory party.

As time passed, a few soldiers approached and said they wanted to join the Madmen Company too.

"I want to go crazy too!"

"I want to become a madman!"

"I was already crazy from the start!"

Why every transfer volunteer sounded like this, no one knew.

Rem, maybe half drunk, loved it and said he would take all of them right away.

Then he checked Enkrid's face and spoke.

"Too few numbers for a company, ain't it."

That part was true.

So after they sobered up, if they still did not regret it, they would all come to the Madmen Company.

Not exactly a test, but if they meant what they were saying now, they would at least be checked for basic ability.

Beyond that, words like glorious and birth of a hero spread everywhere.

One thing was certain, Enkrid was the center of this party.

"Don't you want to eat marmalade for the rest of your life? Of course, all free."

Now and then, there were temptations from city merchants and charming women too.

"No!"

A young man from the city screamed when he saw that.

Even without that scream, Enkrid had no intention of doing anything with the marmalade maiden.

Especially after seeing a nearby man wearing the face of someone whose world had collapsed.

"I'll buy it at full price."

"Tch."

Some market women were bold, others sent subtle glances, and then someone appeared who ended this whole mood while making it even more complicated.

"His Excellency the Count arrives!"

A servant's shout rang across the party.

= = =

Join our discord at https://dsc.gg/wetried