Marcus, having gained the support of Krang, was now the Supreme Commander of the main forces.
He understood the value of the time Encrid had bought them. It was just a single day, but there was much that could be done.
"Summon all the unit Commanders!"
It was time for tactics and strategy. Was this his strong suit? It didn't matter if it wasn't.
What should he do, then?
Simply gather those who excelled in such skills.
"The scouts will continue to monitor the enemy's movements without rest, while the rest of the troops are to take a break! Let them eat and rest, but keep their weapons close at all times, ready to arm themselves!"
Marcus shouted commands without pause.
Krang, observing this, recalled the Encrid he had seen just moments ago.
It gave him chills.
There stood someone who had shown his back to the battlefield.
Krang called such a person a Knight.
The kind of Knight spoken of by bards.
Not a symbol of strength, but a symbol of honor and conviction.
Those who took up the sword for what they believed in.
Guardians of the pact.
Encrid wasn't part of the plan Krang had prepared. Nevertheless, Krang believed in him. He wanted to make him an ally.
His intention had worked. Things had gone as he wished.
Still, Krang wasn't sure if Encrid was someone he could truly embrace as an ally.
'Can I truly accept him?'
He desired it. He wanted to keep him close. A burning urge rose within him, but Krang quickly set aside his greed.
There was a better way, so that would suffice.
'It's fine even if I don't embrace him.'
What about staying as friends?
That wouldn't be bad. So, a friend he would be. Just as the hero returned.
"Enki."
Krang was the first to greet him. Marcus also turned to look at him.
All Encrid had done was cut down a few enemy soldiers and engage in a seemingly even fight with an enemy Commander, but the power he displayed left a lasting impression on everyone.
Moreover, his battle had raised the morale of the troops.
This was within the command tent where they were formulating the battle plans.
Seeing Krang raise his hand, Encrid gave a slight nod in response.
Even if they called each other friends, it wouldn't be right to casually address each other by name in such a setting.
Encrid, being perceptive, knew how to act according to the situation.
Of course, even if he had addressed Krang by name, no one would have dared to criticize him.
He was perceptive, yet hadn't fully realized the impact of his own actions.
Krang saw this as one of Encrid's characteristics.
It was a thought that crossed his mind as he guessed why Encrid hadn't called him by name.
Soon, Commanders worthy of the title began to enter the tent, one by one.
One of them stepped forward.
"Put me at the front!"
Baron Rudin was a man who had always dreamed of joining the Knights. His blood boiled as he witnessed someone standing alone against a well-disciplined army of thousands.
If his blood didn't boil, he wouldn't be human.
Fire burned in his eyes.
"Restrain yourself."
Marcus, observing this, spoke.
Regardless of strategy or tactics, Marcus knew what needed to be done now.
He intended to tip the scales with a single battle.
That meant he had to use every measure he had prepared.
"The Count's hidden hand may not be revealed yet, but the fact remains that we must fight. We will fight by holding together as one."
Marcus laid out the overall strategy, with those skilled in tactics filling in the details.
At the core of this was Encrid's Madmen Platoon, yet no one could tell them how to move.
A brilliant strategist could ensure that every soldier moved without rest.
That they understood what their role was and acted accordingly.
However, there were some who didn't require such orders.
Those who operated outside the usual bounds of behavior, finding their own place in the battle.
Encrid was one of them.
Thus, Marcus said nothing. There was no need for orders.
While positions were being assigned, Encrid was simply passed over for this reason.
Though Encrid and his forces were only a platoon in terms of numbers, no one thought of them as merely a platoon.
Everyone had seen and now knew.
His skills were real, and the title of Hero of the Border Guard was no empty boast.
The strategic meeting was coming to a close, with the battle's direction set.
"The Madmen Platoon will move on its own, won't they?"
Marcus needed reassurance for his conviction. He wanted to hear it.
Would they act as a single blade, cutting down the enemy for their Lord?
Was his judgment correct?
Would they find their place in the battle, even if it was beyond the normal bounds?
"Yes, they will."
Marcus felt reassured, even though the answer was simple.
Encrid, who had nodded, returned to his assigned tent.
It was quite large. In front of the tent, Rem, sitting by a campfire, was making something.
"Looks like we're going to have a tough time starting tomorrow."
The warrior, often called a barbarian, spoke based on his instincts.
He wasn't wrong. It would probably be rough and dangerous.
"Are you excited to the point of death?"
"How'd you know?"
"It's written all over your face."
Encrid sat on a flat stone seat that Rem had prepared at a suitable height.
Rem had quite the talent for finding and making things like this.
"Where's my seat?"
Ragna asked as he came out of the tent. Rem told him to get lost, in a roundabout way.
"Did you leave it with me?"
"Is this because you twisted your ankle and got beat up last time, and now you're taking it out on us?"
Ragna's comment referred to when he had captured the so-called Immortal Madman and got injured. It was a persistent tease.
Rem ignored him, and Ragna eventually found a similar stone and placed it beside Encrid before sitting down.
Jaxon was smarter than that.
He had carved a piece of wood, whittling it down to resemble a chair.
If they were going to go this far, wouldn't it have been better to ask a friend in charge of supplies for a simple folding chair?
Dunbachel just sat on the ground.
It actually seemed more comfortable that way.
Esther, in the form of a panther, snuggled into Encrid's arms.
While wiping himself down with a damp cloth, Encrid watched Rem work.
It seemed like he had either threatened the supply officer with an axe or had gone hunting, as he had brought back fresh meat, something rare for regular soldiers to see. He scored the meat with a small knife, sprinkled salt in between the cuts, and wrapped it in a clean cloth.
Seeing Encrid staring intently, Rem opened his mouth.
"If you do this, the remaining blood drains out, and the meat becomes more tender."
"Sounds delicious."
When Encrid responded, Rem looked around.
At some point, even Asia had joined them, claiming a spot.
She was the only one who had actually gotten a chair from the supply officer. The chair was simple in structure, with legs that spread out when unfolded, and the fabric stretched taut across them.
It was fragile but easy to make.
"What are you making?"
Asia asked, still friendly. Her personality didn't seem to have changed, and she seemed like someone who had many friends around her.
Though, she had been blindsided by someone, hadn't she?
What was the name of that Junior-Knight who threw a wrench into things? Encrid tried to recall, then gave up.
He couldn't remember at all.
"Only the ones who aren't cocky will get some."
Rem said.
Though he spoke like that, he would share it with everyone. He wasn't as stingy as he pretended to be.
Ragna, after thinking for a moment, frowned and said,
"If you give me some, I'll forget about that incident."
He was saying he'd stop teasing Rem about the injured leg.
Judging by the looks exchanged, it seemed like Ragna had relentlessly teased him while Encrid wasn't around.
They were all a bit crazy.
The fact that getting injured in battle became something to mock and the way they responded to that teasing with anger—both were insane.
"I'll let you off."
Rem replied. Ragna was particular about his food, and he understood how important Rem's cooking was. So, he backed off a little.
Encrid simply observed quietly.
When Rem sprinkled salt on the meat, Jaxon wordlessly tossed a small pouch over.
It was, of course, a sign that he wanted to eat the food.
Catching the pouch with a thud, Rem puckered his lips and said,
"You bastard."
It sounded almost like a compliment. Jaxon, naturally, ignored him.
The pouch Jaxon had thrown contained spices.
As Rem sprinkled them over the meat, a fragrant aroma spread through the air.
It seemed to be a blend of herbs.
"If you poisoned it, you're dead."
Rem muttered, smiling as he said it, indicating it was a joke.
Jaxon ignored him again and sat next to Encrid.
Dunbachel quietly helped Rem with the preparation.
"Don't use your nails. Did you wash your hands?"
"I'll use a knife."
Dunbachel was unusually well-behaved.
The meat, scored and seasoned with salt and spices, was then wrapped in a cloth that quickly became stained red. After unwrapping it, they patted it dry with another cloth.
They used stones to surround the campfire, creating a platform to place something on. Out of nowhere, Rem produced a cast-iron pan and placed it on top.
He then poured flaxseed oil onto the pan.
"This stuff is precious."
Rem said.
As Rem spoke, Encrid nodded in agreement.
Here, Rem's word was law, if only for a while.
Once the pan was properly heated, the oil spread evenly, and the aroma began to fill the air. Rem placed the meat onto the cast iron pan.
Ssssss!
The sound of searing meat filled the air as the savory scent mingled with the aroma of the oil, quickly overpowering their senses, going beyond the nose and striking the brain. Saliva began to fill their mouths.
"Mmm."
Encrid let out a small sound of appreciation, and Rem stared intently at the meat.
He was more serious than ever, though his hands moved with remarkable speed and precision.
He flipped the meat over. The surface had browned to a deep color, firming up as it cooked.
Ssssss!
With white smoke rising, he cooked the other side.
Eventually, he even used a metal skewer to pierce the sides of the meat and cook them as well.
Once he deemed it done, he transferred the chunk of meat onto a clean wooden board.
Dunbachel's hand immediately reached for it.
"You'll die if you eat that now. Wait."
Rem said without even looking.
"Ugh, why?"
"Because it tastes better if you wait."
For Rem, this was a surprisingly reasonable explanation, delivered in a soft tone.
Dunbachel relented.
After grilling several more pieces of meat, Rem started slicing the first one. The inside was red, while the outside was brown.
"I made sure to bring a cut with high fat content. This is beef."
"Where'd you get it?"
"There was fresh meat around, probably from meeting a group of nomads or something."
As he spoke, Rem sliced the meat into smaller pieces.
"Dig in."
With arms crossed, Rem gave the go-ahead.
Encrid, moving with sudden speed, focused his attention. He stabbed quickly, skewering a thick piece of meat with a wooden skewer.
He put it into his mouth and chewed.
Crunch.
The juices burst forth. The rich flavor of the meat flooded his senses, reaching from his nose to his brain.
If the aroma had stimulated his salivary glands, the taste assaulted his palate.
Every hair on his body reacted.
This was it. This was real cooking, real meat.
The tender flesh moved between his teeth and slid down his throat effortlessly.
'What was that?'
A dream? When did it go down?
Encrid immediately moved the skewer for another bite.
"There's plenty."
Rem said.
They ate heartily. Every one of them was a big eater. They needed to eat as much as they moved, so it was natural.
They kept eating until they were full and only stopped when they had to pat their bellies.
Even Jaxon, who usually stayed quiet, silently kept chewing and swallowing the meat.
It was an unexpected feast.
"Well, now that we've eaten well, we'll have a proper go tomorrow morning."
Rem said, patting his belly.
"You took the words out of my mouth."
Encrid replied.
"Ah, that was a good meal. Encrid, I saw your fight earlier today—it was impressive."
Asia said before leaving first.
It wasn't a night where anything in particular needed doing. Everyone spent their time as they saw fit.
Ragna had no thoughts.
Rem was filled with anticipation.
Jaxon used the excuse of a walk and stepped out for a while.
As he walked in the night air, a shadow suddenly appeared from one side.
It was his lover and the guild's contact.
"Do you really need to go this far?"
It was a sudden question. In truth, it was something she couldn't understand.
"This will be the last."
Jaxon answered. It was in response to her asking why he was going into battle under Encrid's command, and his reply was that this would be his final gift.
His lover gazed at him intently.
She didn't know why. She couldn't fathom the reason or even guess.
But she had a feeling that Jaxon wouldn't return.
'Do you remember your father's words?'
Suddenly, the words of Jaxon's mentor and late father came to mind.
"Find the place where you truly belong."
It had been both an order and a final wish.
Jaxon hadn't taken those words to heart, but his lover had never forgotten them.
Still, it wasn't something she could fully understand at the moment.
While Jaxon was out on his night walk, Dunbachel, uncharacteristically unable to sleep, stepped outside.
She sat on the stone chair where Rem had been sitting earlier and blankly stared up at the sky.
It was a bright moonlit night.
It seemed like a perfect night for a night raid, but the enemy remained quiet.
Dunbachel shivered. It wasn't because of the cold.
Her life had been filled with struggle and survival. She fought to stay alive. More accurately, she did whatever it took—whether fleeing or fighting—to survive.
Her instincts told her that danger was looming, like standing at the edge of a cliff, her body leaning precariously forward.
And yet, she didn't want to run.
So, what should she do?
'Fight desperately.'
Hadn't she already seen and learned this from watching Encrid?
Just like he did.
The moonlight shifted as clouds obscured the sky. Darkness fell over the camp.
Crackle, crackle.
The flames of the surrounding torches flickered.
Whooosh.
A gust of wind swept over her body.
'Fight desperately, and push forward.'
Dunbachel made up her mind, steeling her resolve.
Even so, her body's trembling didn't subside easily.
Esther, still in her panther form, lay nestled in Encrid's arms.
She opened her eyes during the hours when everyone else was asleep.
A disturbance in magic.
In other words, she sensed the flow of some kind of spell.
It was a form she had never seen before, something she couldn't quite describe at the moment.
She looked up and saw Encrid sleeping soundly above her.
His quiet breathing.
He was fast asleep, without a care in the world.