From Mercenary to King

Chapter 3: Back to That First Battle (3)

The battlefield ended as it was.

The Imperial army fled, and the mercenary army under Captain Mordo, to which Shatien belonged, was allowed to skip all follow-up duties in recognition of their accomplishments in this battle and rest fully.

"Man, how long has it been since we didn’t have to do cleanup like this?"

"Right, right. A person really needs to rack up merit huh? Life feels good again. Heh. Look at those poor guys working over there. That looks rough."

"Oh really? Says the coward who pecked at the edges the whole fight. Merit, my ass."

"What, you jerk? Pecking the edges? That is a technique to make the enemy drop their guard so you can finish them. Bastard!"

Thanks to that, the army’s mercenaries, especially the new recruits, all delighted in the sweet rest they had been given for the first time in a long while.

After a big battle like this, rookies were invariably sent to grueling cleanup duty.

They had just finished an exhausting fight, yet had to drag their tired bodies to sort reeking corpses and then take garrison and watch shifts.

It was truly dreadful, painful work. So every mercenary, without exception, lay down with an easy mind and enjoyed themselves.

Except for one person.

"Huh? Wait, where are you going instead of resting? Uh… um, what was your name again?"

"It is Shatien, you idiot. How can you forget the hero of our victory?"

"Ahem. Hey, no need to make it awkward."

Shatien.

While watching his comrades smile and chatter with satisfaction, Shatien quietly tried to slip outside.

"Haha… I just need to sort out my thoughts for a bit."

"Is that soooo?"

"Funny way to sort thoughts when you are taking your sword. Are you going to practice swordsmanship?"

"It is for self-defense. For self-defense."

With easy good humor, Shatien tapped his scabbard, but no one looked convinced.

‘He is going to practice swordsmanship, right?’

‘He really is something special. Truly the son of a knight. He could rest, but no, sword, sword.’

They rolled their eyes and, while harboring a weird misunderstanding, let their imaginations run.

After all, they had seen that overwhelming skill during the battle with their own eyes. Given that, they could not help but make assumptions about Shatien’s background.

‘Hm… I feel like they are misunderstanding something…’

Shatien knew perfectly well what those strange looks meant.

But he did not bother to correct them.

‘Well, if it were the old me, I would have fidgeted nervously…’

The green rookie was gone, and living in this young body now was a veteran old soldier who had been through fire and water.

Shatien knew he should focus on what mattered more than on trivial misunderstandings.

He had not even gone around bragging about himself.

In the mercenary world, this kind of ridiculous misunderstanding was common.

‘It’s not really a bad thing, honestly.’

Those looks.

That misconception about his origins.

For the time being, these would benefit his actions rather than harm them.

Just look now.

"Why? Is there a problem?"

"Uh, um… no. No problem at all! Right, friend?"

"Yeah! No problem. Ha ha ha. Take care out there. We will make sure not to get in the way."

"Yup. If an officer asks later, we will put in a good word for you. Go without worry."

If he were an average mercenary or a rookie, he would have been met with quips or sneers for doing this, but now they were friendly.

They looked ready to volunteer statements he had never said to support him.

It was a completely different reception from what he had gotten after his very first battle long ago.

Still, there was nothing bad about it.

It meant his say within the army could grow stronger.

He chuckled. Shatien told them he would count on them and quickly took his leave.

Sorting out his thoughts was not just lip service.

Based on the future knowledge he had, he needed to plan how to maximize his gains.

And at the same time…

‘That strange sensation that manifested in the fight.’

He meant to figure out what it was. If he could control it, it would be a tremendous weapon.

Thinking that, Shatien headed to an empty training ground.

* * *

—Swaaaash!

The sound of a blade splitting the air rang out.

—Flap!

The blade that cut the air kept its force and struck the target’s torso, a training dummy.

It was hastily made, but sturdy enough to push back hard against the hand gripping the hilt.

Shatien used that recoil to chain together every sword form he knew.

—Papap —Pap! Crack! Crunch.

Vertical, horizontal, diagonal.

And the occasional thrust.

The connected forms were very clean, but soon Shatien frowned and stopped his sword.

"Damn it."

A full two hours.

He had swung for that entire long time.

His body ran hot, he had begun adapting to his renewed youth, and his forms had become smooth.

But Shatien still felt as irritated as the curse that had just left his mouth.

"How do I do it?"

That uncanny sensation.

It had not triggered. He tried to reproduce his stance and movements from the battle, but that did not help.

He had just flailed like a madman doing calisthenics under the moon.

At this point, a troubling thought came to him.

‘Wait… could it be…’

Life and death.

Maybe it only triggered when he stood at the brink.

Thinking back, that strange sensation had manifested when he fought with his life on the line. The clash with the shield-bearers, the crisis when he was surrounded.

Reasoning from that, it was plausible. And if so…

‘This ability… if I misuse it, it’ll truly be terrible.’

It drained stamina massively and brought on a vicious headache.

If that uncanny power kept activating beyond his control, it could become a blade that killed him instead.

If, in the middle of the battlefield, his stamina suddenly crashed and his body failed him from pain, that would be the end.

‘Good grief…’

His expression turned grim. He needed to find a way to control this ability as soon as possible.

If he meant to rebuild his house and fulfill the vow he had made before his father’s grave. And while he thought that—

—Thump!

Something heavy struck Shatien in the back.

"Ugh! W-Who is it?"

Startled, Shatien whirled and drew his sword. He might have been deep in thought, but for someone to get behind him without his noticing made his spine go cold.

"Oh? You are going to stab someone at this rate, you know?"

But the one who had startled him was someone he knew well.

Miles.

Shatien cleared his throat and quietly slid his sword back into the scabbard.

"A-As if I would. Ahem."

"Sure you wouldn’t. You were practically oozing bloodlust. Huh?"

"It is a misunderstanding. A misunderstanding."

"Yeah, yeah. Is that so?"

Miles teased, but there was no malice. No, it was clearly a joke.

There was a hint of laughter on his face as he spoke.

And when he continued, it was even clearer.

"You did great today. Rookie. Ah, Shatien, was it? Anyway, keep it up like that."

"Thank you."

It was praise.

Still, Shatien felt a rush of emotion at Miles’s words.

In the past, after his first battle, he had failed to achieve anything and even dragged his comrades down.

Because of that, Miles had worked him like he meant to eat him alive…

For him to react like this now.

The unfamiliar situation felt downright pleasant.

"No need for thanks. I am just stating facts. By the way, why are you out here alone? Do not tell me… you came to practice swordsmanship?"

"Ah, yes… something like that…"

"Wow, really?"

At Shatien’s answer, Miles’s eyes went wide.

Everyone knew training mattered, but few actually did it right, especially mercenaries who lived one day at a time.

So Miles liked this new recruit.

"Hahaha. Looks like we got a good one in our army. Good! Good!"

Miles laughed heartily and clapped Shatien on the back again and again.

He looked very pleased.

‘Hmm…’

Shatien felt mixed emotions at that reaction.

Miles.

He looked rough, but he was the classic fatherly man with a warm heart.

Not only was he someone worth knowing personally, Shatien also owed Miles a great debt in the past.

‘The price of a life.’

In a desperate moment, Miles had thrown himself in and saved him. Shatien had not expected that from the rough, harsh man, but he was genuine to the core.

‘This time I will repay that debt.’

With interest, too. Of course, Miles had no way to know what Shatien was thinking, and he frowned.

‘This bastard… What is with this punk’s weird eyes?’

Did he have some kind of taste for him? Miles got goosebumps for no reason.

Miles was a man’s man who could respect people’s tastes, but he had no wish to be the target.

"Senior mercenary sir?"

Feeling something off, Shatien tilted his head and asked.

Miles hurriedly backed away with an exaggerated flourish.

"Uh, uh-huh? It’s nothing. Ahem. Anyway, it is time for the meeting the captain called. I am off. Shatien."

"…?"

"Oh, and training is good, but sometimes rest is an extension of training. When it is time to rest, rest properly. So wrap it up and get some sleep. Understood?"

"Yes, understood."

"Good. And…"

"There’s more?"

"I respect you. Keep that in mind. Ahem. I am really going. Good work."

"?"

Their relationship added another layer of inexplicable misunderstanding.

"……."