“I, uh, just want to stay under you.”

On a breezy summer evening, a white-haired beastfolk spoke in front of the barracks.

“Under?”

Dunbakel carefully chose her words in response to the question.

At this point, what did it matter how things turned out?

“Whether as a slave or a servant, I don’t care. As long as I can stay under you, I’ll do anything.”

While Frokk’s eyes were blinded by personal ambition or desire, the beastfolk before him seemed fixated on a single notion: reproduction.

Her words, then, were open to misinterpretation.

“The continent is vast, you know.”

Enkrid’s response was a roundabout way of saying he wouldn’t stop her if she left.

“As long as I can stay under you.”

Dunbakel dropped to her knees. Her unkempt, greasy hair and scalp were visible, emitting a foul stench.

Looking at her, Enkrid’s first thought was that he’d rather get some rest after making her clean up.

So, what should he do with her?

Honestly, it wasn’t something worth agonizing over.

If she had approached with intentions to betray...

‘Could she even manage it?’

Before that, though, she’d likely have her throat slit by Jaxon—or someone else, maybe even Rem.

It was just a feeling. A hunch.

In reality, it wouldn’t necessarily have to be Jaxon. Anyone in the squad, especially Rem, would beat Dunbakel to death at the first sign of treachery.

The fortunate thing was that she didn’t seem to harbor any malice. Sparing her was, at best, a whim. It held no deeper meaning.

‘If there’s no malice…’

Enkrid began to think of his squad as a unit of ten.

A platoon typically consists of forty to fifty soldiers, while a company is led by a hundred to two hundred.

‘But my squad…’

Rem, Ragna, Jaxon, Audin, Finn.

Including himself, there were six.

Wasn’t this far too many?

It made Enkrid question whether Marcus’s conscience was intact.

‘If you’re going to make me a company commander, at least give me more soldiers.’

Of course, not all would survive. Rem alone wouldn’t allow it.

He thought of Andrew briefly. Finn was the only new addition since Andrew’s time.

In conclusion, the company was short on manpower, and Dunbakel was stronger than the average soldier.

Her current demeanor also seemed obedient.

An obedient beastfolk was a rarity.

If there was one clear point amidst his tangled thoughts, it was this:

‘Manpower shortage.’

He could ask the battalion commander for permission later. If denied, she could always be cast out.

“Fine.”

“I swear to Kreimhart. Though swearing as an outcast—wait, what?”

“Come inside. There’s a spare cot. But first, wash up.”

To Dunbakel, this was a bold decision. Enkrid didn’t even appear to hesitate.

‘Was he planning to accept me from the start?’

Such thoughts crossed her mind. But no, that wasn’t it. There had been countless moments when she could have been killed—should have been killed.

Yet, she wasn’t.

It meant he was someone who kept his word, even the ones he spoke whimsically.

“You’ll need the commander’s approval to join the squad officially. If he says no, there’s nothing I can do.”

‘It’s settled.’

Dunbakel believed rejection was unlikely.

If she were the commander and someone like her applied—even if they brought along ten attendants—she’d nod in agreement.

Who would turn her down?

“Forget about waiting on me or anything like that. I’m not interested. If you want to join, pick up a weapon and fight. If you die in battle, so be it.”

That was all Enkrid said before opening the door and stepping inside.

Dunbakel hesitated, standing there dumbfounded.

She had wanted this, yet when the time came to act, she found herself lacking courage.

Even when she yearned for it, accepting what had been granted required greater resolve.

Could she truly step inside?

‘Someone like me?’

She had fully expected rejection. That’s why she faltered.

Then the barracks door swung open again.

“Coming or not?”

Through the open door, she saw dark hair and piercing blue eyes. His face—one she hesitated to describe as beautiful—was illuminated by moonlight cascading down his determined expression.

At the entrance to a spartan military barracks, Dunbakel felt tears well up.

Why?

What did it matter?

Perhaps because, until now, no one had ever welcomed her.

Because this was the first time someone had told her to come inside without ulterior motives.

“I’m coming.”

Her voice trembled as she stepped forward.

Life offered opportunities, they said, and Dunbakel felt meeting this man was one of them.

Even if others rejected her…

She would endure.

Even if everyone scorned and cursed her…

She would persevere.

“Hey, I’ve gotta ask.”

Inside the barracks, a woman with orange hair addressed Enkrid. She spoke rapidly, as though she’d been waiting for a chance.

“You actually like your nickname, ‘The Enchanting Demon,’ don’t you? That’s why you keep bringing in strays, right?”

Kreeeeak!

Next to her, a leopard hissed.

“Eek!”

Startled by the sound, Dunbakel flinched. Nearby, Rem spoke up.

“Relax. That leopard doesn’t bite much. Oh, except for King Eyeball over there. As long as you don’t provoke it, you’re safe.”

Why was there a leopard in the barracks? Dunbakel was puzzled but decided not to dwell on it.

The atmosphere wasn’t as harsh as she’d feared.

“Stop spouting nonsense and get her cleaned up. She reeks,” Enkrid said, already sorting through his belongings.

Preparing to wash himself, he grabbed a light linen shirt. Meanwhile, the orange-haired woman approached.

“You don’t have spare clothes, do you? Should I ask for some in your name?”

“Do you think they’d give you any?”

“Why not!”

With a spring in her step, Finn took the lead. Under the moonlit night, Dunbakel felt the tension ease.

“Your name?” Finn asked as they stepped outside.

“Dunbakel.”

“I’m Finn.”

Extending her hand, Finn offered a handshake—a gesture of mutual trust and goodwill, signifying they were unarmed and harbored no ill intent.

When Dunbakel accepted, Finn smiled.

“But seriously, how long has it been since you bathed?”

“Uh, half a year?”

Beastfolk didn’t usually enjoy bathing.

“Let’s walk a little farther apart.”

Under Finn’s guidance, Dunbakel entered the bathhouse and soaked in the tub without complaint.

The water turned black, and Finn left clean clothes outside the door.

Dunbakel scrubbed herself thoroughly, determined not to offend Enkrid with her scent again.

Returning to the barracks, she felt lighter, perhaps from the rare experience of being clean.

“…That’s what you look like?”

Enkrid asked as she stepped inside.

“Why? What’s different?”

Dunbakel glanced down awkwardly. The fitted clothes emphasized her figure, with a loose tunic and wide trousers.

Was it the outfit?

“Never mind. That’s your spot. Sleep there. And for heaven’s sake, wear proper undergarments.”

Really? That seemed excessive, but Dunbakel nodded.

Enkrid gestured halfheartedly toward her designated spot.

And so, Dunbakel became part of the independent company. No one spoke of her past as an enemy or a member of the Black Blade.

Even if they did, they neither doubted her nor pushed her away.

Why?

She didn’t know. Not yet.

***

The air within the unit was icy cold, but Enkrid remained the same.

He rose, began his training, and briefly observed Finn getting pummeled during her isolation technique practice.

“So, Ailcarazian martial arts amount to this much, Sister?”

Audin, ever consistent in his sharp tongue, spoke from the mouth of hell itself. A vein bulged visibly on Finn’s forehead.

After sweating profusely through the morning, Enkrid guzzled water to soothe his parched throat. He smeared butter and orange marmalade onto soft bread.

“Where’d you find this?” he asked, biting into the bread. The marmalade was exquisite—sweet and tangy, perfectly balanced.

Kraiss, sitting beside him, chewed and swallowed his bread before answering.

“A new shop opened opposite the spiced jerky store. The owner’s a freckled woman with dull brown hair, about twenty-six years old. Name’s Juri. No boyfriend. Her ideal type is somewhere between you and Ragna, and she absolutely detests guys like me.”

Enkrid gave Kraiss a sideways glance, wondering why he was being so specific.

“We guild members of Gilpin are supposed to know all the key figures in town.”

Was that really true? Was someone who made excellent marmalade a key figure?

“It’s important, isn’t it? You’ve tasted it.”

Fair enough.

As Enkrid continued his meal, Kraiss began chattering once more.

“Similar incidents are bound to happen going forward.”

“Similar incidents?”

“The people around us won’t just leave Border Guard alone.”

Enkrid paused, halfway to standing, and looked at Kraiss. His large eyes briefly flickered toward Dunbakel, who sat in a daze, staring blankly at nothing.

Someone needed to assign her something to do.

Returning his gaze to Kraiss, Enkrid listened as Kraiss continued.

“By pushing back Azpen, the kingdom has expanded its territory. This means the military city of Border Guard has become both a garrison town for the standing army and the central trade hub of northern Naurillia. It’s already headed that way.”

Recently, trade caravans had been visiting more frequently, and a steady stream of new goods flowed into the city. The population was growing.

“Juri mentioned that marmalade can’t be made in small batches. If it doesn’t sell quickly, it spoils. Fortunately, the increasing foot traffic ensures it sells well.”

That was why she opened the marmalade shop.

Commercial success depended on population and the volume of people passing through—a basic fact Kraiss had drilled into everyone’s head with his endless commentary.

“So, how do the surrounding powers view Border Guard?”

“Like a well-cooked barbecue or a ripe tomato,” Kraiss replied.

If they had a knife in hand, ready to eat, all they had to do was carve into it.

Such was Border Guard’s position. It looked so tempting, like perfectly seared barbecue, that anyone hungry enough would want to take a bite.

How would it appear to starving forces? They’d want to devour it immediately.

The settlement Enkrid had saved might eventually grow into a trade route that eased the tension, but for now:

‘The northern trade hub.’

That was how Kraiss described Border Guard’s current standing.

“This is why the wolves never stop circling,” Kraiss added.

“When did you figure this out?” Enkrid asked.

“Well, ever since we pushed Azpen back, something about it felt off.”

So Marcus knew too?

The battalion commander, who had joked about loving the city upon his return, had understood the danger from the beginning.

And if he knew the danger, he probably also knew how to deal with it.

It was time for the meeting.

“Let’s go.”

“Let’s defend the spiced jerky and marmalade, Commander,” Kraiss quipped from behind. Oddly enough, it didn’t sound insane. Those two foods were quite precious to Enkrid, too.

The battalion commander’s office had already been turned into a meeting room.

A large map lay spread across the table, with chess-like pieces scattered over it.

“Do we know the enemy’s numbers?” Marcus asked.

“We’re dispatching scouts every hour. From what we’ve observed, they appear to have at least two battalions of infantry,” a subordinate reported.

“That’s a lot,” Marcus remarked with a dry chuckle, showing no signs of fear.

He clearly had something up his sleeve.

Enkrid stood silently by Marcus’s side as the other company commanders gathered.

“Have something to say?” Marcus asked, noticing Enkrid.

“My company has fewer than ten members.”

So what? Marcus’s eyes seemed to ask. He was a battalion commander with no trace of guilt.

“Shouldn’t I at least be given more soldiers to justify being called a company commander?” Enkrid continued.

“Can I add someone? It’s the beastfolk we captured earlier.”

Her previous affiliation had been with the Black Blade bandits.

The idea of sparing a bandit only to add them to the ranks seemed absurd, especially after recently executing a noble-born bandit.

“Go ahead.”

‘That’s it?’

Was that all it took?

“Inform the quartermaster about the arrangement,” Marcus added, turning his attention elsewhere as if there was no need to say more.

Looking around, Enkrid noticed that none of the other commanders seemed to care. The Fairy Company Commander even mouthed, “Another woman?”—a classic pixie-style joke, which Enkrid ignored.

The discussion continued, focusing on the enemy’s formation, potential battlegrounds, and troop numbers.

“Martai may deploy cavalry, but we don’t have any of our own.”

The combined number of horses in Border Guard’s stables wouldn’t exceed fifty, including those reserved for urgent messengers. But cavalry required more than just horses.

An untrained unit could be as dangerous to themselves as they were to the enemy.

The Frontier Defense Commander returned mid-discussion. His report confirmed what was expected: they had ambushed a faction of the Black Blade bandits.

But there was one unexpected detail.

The commander, adopting a theatrical tone, declared, “Some of the Black Blade bandits attacked Sub-Baron Vancento in advance. The baron escaped, abandoning his escort mission. While this cannot be credited as an achievement, the subsequent annihilation of the bandit skirmishers was commendable.”

Marcus slammed the table dramatically, causing pins used to mark troop positions to scatter across the map.

“To think they’d dare harm a noble! Those vile Black Blade scum!” Marcus exclaimed, his voice dripping with theatrical outrage.

“Well, we dealt with them swiftly. If we hadn’t followed them, who knows what might’ve happened?”

The Frontier Defense Commander’s awkward tone belied his words.

Enkrid watched, expressionless, as the charade played out.

The meeting resumed, with Marcus presenting a strategy full of holes.

‘What’s he counting on?’ Enkrid wondered, his unease growing. What gave him such confidence?