Chapter 23 - The Thread of Gnu
"Listen for sounds that are more unnatural than usual."
The scouting party set out in the blue dawn, long before sunrise.
As Enkrid was quietly packing his belongings alone, Jaxen, who had been standing watch as the final sentry, spoke up out of nowhere.
"Suddenly?"
Confused, Enkrid asked what he meant.
"You once asked how to avoid getting hit by a sword on the battlefield."
Enkrid recalled the moment.
The infirmary, the assassin's ambush, the fairy unit commander, Krang, and the fire.
After wrapping up all the chaos, he had returned to find his unruly squad in the middle of a brawl.
His mind had been scattered.
And yet, as Jaxen reminded him, the memory resurfaced.
Before all the commotion, before his final dance with the assassin, he had asked in passing:
"Sure, I get that you need to listen carefully, but you can't stay focused on listening in the middle of a battle, right? How do you dodge without even looking?"
Honing one's hearing—fine, that made sense.
But that required intense focus.
Could one truly listen so intently amidst the chaos of the battlefield?
"Sounds impossible."
He knew because he had tried.
Perhaps, with enough practice, one might manage movements bordering on miraculous against multiple opponents.
But one thing was certain: simply listening well wasn't enough.
Jaxen was diligent.
He didn't brush off a passing question and answered earnestly.
And Enkrid was even more diligent.
He didn't miss an opportunity to learn.
"So, you're saying I should sense the oddities?"
"It would be good to attune yourself to unfamiliar sensations, but that's not easy. So instead, if you're in a grassy field, focus on the sound of the grass rustling and find the noise that doesn't match."
The scouting area was a grassland—a field filled with grass that ranged from ankle to eye level.
It felt as though Jaxen had tailored his advice to their mission.
As Enkrid listened to the thoughtful explanation, a question popped into his mind.
"You're pretty detailed about this, huh?"
At that, Jaxen stared directly into Enkrid's eyes.
It was a gaze that seemed to say, You already know, so why ask?
When Enkrid tilted his head in confusion, Jaxen finally added:
"Because the squad leader is relentless."
"...What?"
Where had the conversation gone off track?
Why suddenly call him relentless?
Jaxen was referring to Enkrid's tenacity, his passion for the sword.
But Enkrid was utterly clueless.
He considered asking further but closed his mouth.
Did the reason even matter?
The whims of his unpredictable squad were hardly unusual.
So the reason didn't matter.
Right now, there was a teacher willing to teach and a student willing to learn.
If the content held value, that was enough.
Since he was about to be dragged off to join the scouting party anyway, reflecting on what he'd learned while training along the way wasn't a bad plan.
Thus, he ignored the unnecessary details and pressed on.
"How do I distinguish between different types of sounds?"
Erasing his momentary confusion, Enkrid returned to the core topic.
Jaxen's gaze grew peculiar, as though he were witnessing a three-headed dragon.
"Why?"
"Nothing."
Jaxen continued his explanation. What constituted a strange sound? How should one utilize their hearing?
It was excellent advice—a joy to learn. Enkrid set off on the path, deeply satisfied.
"So, that's how it works, huh."
Jaxen still looked at Enkrid with an odd expression.
But Enkrid didn't notice and turned to leave.
"Well then, I'll be off."
As Enkrid walked toward the outskirts of the camp for his scouting mission, Jaxen thought to himself:
It doesn't make sense.
Recently, he had seen the squad leader react to footsteps from quite a distance.
His hearing range was remarkably broad.
While others might miss it, Jaxen couldn't be fooled.
There was just something off about it.
Based on every training method and every individual he'd seen trained in the same way, honing one's hearing meant continually distinguishing between different sounds.
That process helped one identify the type of sound.
But what about the squad leader?
His ability to hear is top-notch, but his skill in distinguishing sounds is that of a novice.
It was as though he'd undergone short-term, intensive training focused solely on listening.
But could that even work?
If someone had dozens of spare lives, maybe they could train like that.
How peculiar.
The squad leader was indeed a strange person.
Still, it prompted Jaxen to share as much of his knowledge as possible.
And the squad leader would likely absorb the lesson immediately.
Honing one's hearing was challenging, but distinguishing and categorizing sounds was merely supplementary.
When Jaxen finally finished his watch and entered the barracks, Rem was there, lounging on his side with a sly grin, propping his head up with one hand.
"Your face pisses me off."
Jaxen offered his morning greeting.
Rem chuckled softly and replied.
"Falling for the squad leader's charm, are you? You just want to teach him everything, don't you?"
"It's a fair trade. I owe him, so I'll get equivalent value in return later."
That was Jaxen—the embodiment of equivalent exchange, as the unit nicknamed him.
But even as he said it, Jaxen knew.
Teaching the squad leader wasn't about demanding something in return.
It had been an impulsive decision.
Maybe the squad leader's recent battlefield feats had left an impression.
Jaxen didn't dwell on it.
Sometimes, he knew, it was fine to act on impulse.
So the matter ended there.
"Shut up, you bastard. What kind of man gets shy about this stuff?"
Rem cackled and lay back down, pulling his blanket up to his chin. Soon, his breathing steadied as if he had succumbed to warmth and slumber.
At times, Jaxen couldn't help but wonder.
What gives this insane brute such unshakable confidence?
"Go lie down. If you try anything while I'm sleeping, I'll split your head open."
Rem spoke, feigning sleep.
Jaxen ignored him and found his spot.
Arguing with Rem was pointless—it only invited more words.
"Typical bastard. Never answers me."
As expected, Rem muttered complaints after his own remarks.
***
The scouting party, which had set out at dawn, started off on the wrong foot.
"If we run into those Aspen bastards, I'll split their heads open. Got it?"
So said the squad leader in charge of the small reconnaissance unit.
Enkrid almost blurted out, Do you even understand what scouting is supposed to be?
But before he could, the squad leader spoke again, turning to him:
"Loose cannon squad leader, you're just a soldier right now. If you're going to disobey orders, say so now. Let's settle it with skill. Unlike some, I didn't get promoted by kissing ass, so I'm confident."
The tone was anything but friendly.
Enkrid wasn't offended, nor did it sour his mood.
Praise like this wasn't new.
Simple insults from those who didn't know him meant nothing.
Besides, creating unnecessary friction wasn't worth it.
Better to quietly patrol, reflect on what he'd learned, and return.
"Even if it's annoying, just put up with it. Seems like they've got a bit of a brash personality."
The soldier walking closely beside him spoke with a gravelly voice, showing his age.
"Don't worry about it."
"Glad to hear that."
The soldier smiled humbly, avoiding the squad leader's gaze.
Not a bad impression.
"All right, let's move out!"
The ten-man patrol unit, doubling as a reconnaissance team, set off.
Being part of a reconnaissance team didn't always mean infiltrating enemy territory.
This particular plain, known across the continent as the Green Pearl, was a vast expanse of grassland.
To the east, there were a few gentle hills and low mountain ridges, but overall, the view was open and unobstructed.
To the west flowed the Pen-Hanil River, considered the lifeblood of Naurilia, and a shared resource with the enemy, the Duchy of Aspen.
Because of the geographical openness, ambushes were nearly impossible in battles on this plain.
So what did reconnaissance teams do?
Their tasks involved scouting enemy territory and patrolling nearby areas, watching for groups attempting to move unnoticed, tracking any signs of enemy cavalry, or identifying suspicious activities.
They also confirmed key strategic locations during their patrols.
Naturally, reconnaissance was a dangerous job.
Encounters with enemy forces could happen anytime, and clashes between reconnaissance teams often escalated into full-scale battles.
Such confrontations weren't frequent, though, nor should they be.
"Let's go show the world the might of Naurilia's infantry!"
To Enkrid, the youthful squad leader was a fool drunk on his own abilities.
Perhaps he was an illegitimate child of some noble or had backing from someone in the command structure.
Nineteen, maybe twenty at most.
A quick promotion for a squad leader in Naurilia's regular army.
But compared to true geniuses, soldiers like him were a dime a dozen.
The role of the reconnaissance team seemed entirely absent from the squad leader's thoughts.
Some soldiers even echoed his sentiment.
"Of course, sir. With your skills, a few foes won't be an issue!"
"Show us the strength that took down five mercenaries!"
'That brat's head will swell so much it'll burst.'
Even without being told, it was obvious how things ended up this way.
Recon squads likely faced frequent injuries, leaving them shorthanded.
That's how Enkrid and these fools ended up here.
Still, this group was below par, even by low standards.
Yet, there wouldn't be much trouble.
Reconnaissance routes were predetermined:
Patrol in a circular path centered on allied bases.
The specifics were up to the squad leader, but Enkrid assumed things would be fine unless the squad leader did something drastically foolish.
"This is a gnu's footprint."
The squad leader noticed tracks while passing by.
The gnu was a herd animal resembling a cow, often seen running in groups of twenty to fifty across the plains.
"Let's track this and have a barbecue tonight."
...Chasing twenty gnus? Seriously?
What was even more absurd was that these weren't gnu tracks at all—they belonged to a gazelle.
"Sure, why not," murmured a soldier with a good impression, smirking as he stared at the back of the squad leader's head.
On the first day, the patrol wasted time searching for nonexistent gnus.
Naturally, no animal willingly surrendered to a group radiating hostility.
"Damn it," the squad leader cursed in frustration.
If they'd caught something, would the idiot have actually lit a fire?
If so, it would've been quite the spectacle: a reconnaissance team starting a bonfire.
Might as well announce, "We're total fools!"
Fortunately, they caught nothing.
Before nightfall, they found a campsite near a hill with four large trees and prepared to rest.
"Where are you from, Squad Leader?"
It was the soldier with the good impression who asked.
More than anything, his eyes were filled with contempt for their squad leader.
"Border Guard."
"A career soldier?"
Enkrid nodded.
Border Guard was a fortress city on the frontier, a military town filled with training facilities and professional soldiers.
"I'm from a mountain village and pride myself on my hunting skills, but calling those tracks gnus shocked me. They were clearly gazelle tracks."
Enkrid shared the sentiment.
The two found common ground in their disdain for the squad leader.
The hunter's name was Enri, an easygoing soldier with no love for their commander.
"Tomorrow, I'll teach you something fun. On the plains, animals follow distinct paths, even if they aren't obvious at first glance."
After chatting for a while, Enri quickly fell asleep.
During his third watch that night, Enkrid recalled lessons from Jaxen.
Though he didn't draw his sword, he practiced mentally, replaying the duel he had with Ragna and Rem before this mission.
"Always incorporate thrusts into your stance," Rem had said.
He'd also emphasized leg training.
Recon teams walked a lot—inevitable for infantry.
"Walking's fine," Enkrid mused.
It wasn't bad for building leg strength.
Sustained by jerky alone, he should've felt empty, but his mind stayed focused on training: sword techniques, the auditory exercises Jaxen taught, and hunting tricks Enri promised to share.
Enkrid genuinely enjoyed learning and mastering skills—and applying them even more.
'Once I return, I'll spar again,' he thought.
Throughout his watch, Enkrid trained his ears while contemplating his next steps, eventually waking the next guard before sleeping himself.
On the second day, the patrol resumed their march at dawn.
That morning, Enri taught him to identify animal trails.
Hearing the rustle of grass against their calves, Enkrid thought:
So much to learn.
He genuinely enjoyed the practical hunting knowledge Enri shared.
"Over here," the squad leader led the group into a field of tall weeds.
This seems fine, Enkrid thought, the path aligned with their mission.
But, as expected, the squad leader shattered his expectations.
"We'll cut through this field and track enemy scouts. What do you think?"
Is this guy insane?
Enkrid nearly said it aloud but held back.
How would they navigate in the weeds?
And what guarantee was there of finding enemy scouts this way?
All they needed to do was check for anomalies or signs of ambush.
"Don't interfere. Not all squad leaders are the same," a subordinate said dismissively, stepping in.
Well, well.
Enkrid wasn't angry—just debating whether to let this play out.
The decision came quickly.
He let it go.
If things went south and they all died, he'd reassess tomorrow.
If not?
"They'll just waste time and head back," he concluded.
Either way, it wasn't his loss.