The herbs from Milleschia's treatment room gathered.
Since they were belongings of a dead person, they were now relics that might hold meaning for someone, but right now they weren't in a position to be picky.
Honoring the dead would come after all this was over.
Hoarding resources in the face of crisis was something only idiots among idiots would do.
Among the herbs, those that could get wet were thoroughly soaked by rain, while others were tightly wrapped in oil-treated cloaks and such.
The herbs Enkrid could recognize were at most three in total.
This was despite him having rolled around in various places and knowing how to perform emergency treatment to some degree.
In reality, many treatment methods known by soldiers and mercenaries included folk remedies whose efficacy wasn't proven, so it made sense.
For example, the act of spitting on cut wounds because saliva supposedly prevented them from rotting easily.
There were many herbs whose shapes were familiar but names unknown, and some whose forms were hard to recognize because they were soaked by rain.
"Give me everything."
Anne went up the stairs, laid out all the herbs in the corridor, placed her usual bag right next to them, and began sorting and organizing the herbs.
There was no hesitation in her touch. She recognized the herbs at a glance, and her speed was fast. Ragna stood blankly behind Anne.
Everyone including the Head silently watched only Anne's hands.
Some might have shown anxious signs, but they were generally calm.
One reason was that those belonging to Zaun all had somewhat swollen livers, and another reason would be the attitude of the Head, who could be called their center.
He pulled a chair to one side so casually and sat down, then tapped his wet boots with his hands to shake them off before placing them upside down, while indifferently looking only out the window.
Swoooosh! Crash!
Among the sounds of striking lightning and raging storms, sounds of tap, thunk, chop, smack smack, crunch crunch mixed in.
It was the sound of Anne crushing herbs in a small mortar, mixing them, and combining chemicals.
Having finished sorting before long, she began her work.
Then Anahera brought in Grida and laid her down on one side. She wasn't carried in with limbs dangling. Though Grida's complexion had turned pale from blood loss, her eyes shone vividly.
She also showed enduring pain without letting out a single groan until lying on the floor.
"Please."
The giant said, and Anne answered roughly without even raising her head:
"Got it."
Though it seemed like a perfunctory response, no one said anything.
Anne immediately slid a knife under the bandage binding Grida's stomach and pulled it to cut. Her gesture showed no hesitation, reaching Ragna-level swordsmanship.
Anne examined the wound closely, then poured a potion she had placed beside her. Liquid from a metal medicine bottle poured over Grida's wound.
Bubble bubble bubble.
Foam bubbled up from Grida's stomach, and her body trembled. Several watched this intently.
Is that really okay?
There would have been gazes mixed with such suspicion.
Anne didn't mind. She simply looked at the wound where the foam had subsided and said "Pour this," handing Ragna another bottle containing chemicals. Ragna poured that water onto Anne's hands with a splash, and Anne wet her hands while holding needle and thread.
The liquid on her hands dried quickly. It felt like it dispersed into the air.
Then she threaded the needle and thread and began suturing the wound.
It was Enkrid's first time seeing such treatment methods, and also his first time seeing Anne's skilled hand movements.
The needle penetrated flesh. Would it hurt less than being stabbed by a sword? They said Heskal had stabbed her stomach, but that was an unexpected moment she couldn't think about, while now she would see the needle stitching her belly skin. Moreover, when hit by a sword it ended in one strike, but this time it was continuous.
So now should be more painful, yet Grida calmly endured the pain. Though her eyebrows twitched each time the needle entered, she didn't scream in pain.
From what she said next, she seemed angrier about the current situation itself than the pain.
"Should I say it's fortunate that I suspected father but that wasn't it? Damn, still, I can't help feeling like I got played."
She spoke while lying down. Some listened intently, others let it pass indifferently.
"You didn't suspect Heskal?"
The Head turned his gaze from looking out the window to glance at Grida once, then turned his gaze back outside.
Enkrid was now somewhat familiar with the Head's attitude and behavior. For instance, he seemed to understand why he wouldn't take his eyes off the window now.
Next to him, Alexandra explained various things to Schmidt, and the more Schmidt heard, the more serious his complexion became.
"I suspected and prepared, but still got hit."
Grida was honest. It wasn't that she lacked competitive spirit, but what was more important to her than the fact that she had lost for now was what came next.
Guardians, the protectors of Zaun, were always those who prepared for tomorrow and the future.
Enkrid finally understood the concept of guardian precisely.
That's why he couldn't understand Heskal's actions.
Grida had shown behavioral patterns befitting a guardian's nature. Then what about Heskal? He was a man who had lived for decades in the position of Zaun's guardian. What reason could such a person have for suddenly acting like this?
'It's not my business to know.'
Enkrid was a knight, not a problem-solver. Therefore, what he had to do was also clear.
Finding out why the opponent acted that way—couldn't he just put a sword to their throat and ask later?
'Is there a faster and more efficient method than that?'
There wasn't.
What if they were someone who wouldn't speak even then? Then wouldn't other methods be the same?
Well, if you had to nitpick, there would be methods of finding out by preparing several psychological devices. Through deception and appropriate pressure, yes, you could discover the opponent's inner thoughts.
'But is that important?'
The deed was already done. What was in those inner thoughts wasn't important.
Enkrid's gaze reached the limping swordsman called Heskal's child.
His skill was at near-knight level, his wish was to run proudly on two legs.
Swordsmanship was disadvantageous if you couldn't use your legs. So he had honed his swordsmanship to decide victory in a single strike.
Along with that, he had learned techniques for moving on one leg.
All of that was what Heskal had created for him.
Probably the person most curious about Heskal's inner thoughts right now would be Riley Zaun.
But even he didn't know why Heskal was doing this. The subtle anxiety appearing on his face, tightly pressed lips, and occasionally shaking pupils represented his psychological state.
'Can he even fight properly like that?'
When the heart isn't upright, the sword also tends to waver.
Had the Head decided Riley Zaun's role?
'For instance, to shake Heskal's concentration?'
A child he had cared for over ten years calling and asking him:
"Father, why did you do it!"
Would Heskal waver? He didn't know.
Was there enough reason to risk the danger of Riley being a traitor scheming behind the scenes? It didn't seem likely.
Enkrid approached beside the Head who was indifferently looking out the window.
"I didn't get weaker. Heskal hid his skills. He was strong. Father."
Just then, the Head nodded his chin up and down at Grida's words. It would mean he understood. Still, no emotion could be felt.
"Do you see something?"
Enkrid, who had approached beside him, asked.
The Head looked out the window because he knew Heskal wasn't the only one who orchestrated this affair. He suspected the enemy might scheme from outside and watched outdoors.
Some—those whose heads worked well or who grasped situations quickly—all had similar appearances to the Head.
Well, some among them had their eyes closed. Like a blacksmith sharpening a blade, they were quietly drawing up concentration.
The easiest example was Alexandra. After briefly talking with Schmidt, she was quietly catching her breath with eyes closed, leaning her back against the wall.
Watching that was like seeing a sword wrapped in thin cloth.
A sword wrapped in mere cloth as if even a sheath was luxury, ready to be swung at any moment.
"Nothing."
The Head's answer was simple. Enkrid was now truly becoming somewhat familiar with him.
'Don't read emotions, see actions and attitudes as they are.'
Looking at it this way, his behavioral principles could be called simple.
That didn't mean he didn't utilize the point that emotions couldn't be read from his exterior.
Using that as a shield to hide his inner thoughts, he also made opponents misunderstand.
Should you say he showed some qualities of a strategist?
Well, someone at the Head's level should be capable in strategy too.
Looking at it this way, you could see what Zaun was like.
Zaun was a nation. In other words, the Head was the king of the small country called Zaun. Heskal was the rebel army.
Though Rynox and many others were listening to their conversation, Enkrid also thought there was nothing more to hide now.
No, Zaun's members weren't those who would run away when disadvantaged. Therefore, they had to know and fight. The Head would be aware of this too. The timing to tell everyone would be the issue. How about helping with that a bit?
"Where is Odinkar?"
"I hid him under a pretext."
Seeing the Head answer immediately, he must indeed have the same thought.
It was a process of informing everyone of the situation and eliminating useless worries. To fight properly, there should be no distracting thoughts. Some would handle it themselves, but there would be confused ones too.
Heskal's betrayal was such an incident.
"What about Magrun?"
"That child was truly in danger, so I entrusted him to Milleschia. I don't know where he is either."
Swoooosh.
The downpour had lessened compared to before. The wind that seemed like it would uproot and blow away human weeds from the ground had also decreased in intensity.
Rattle rattle.
Though wind strong enough to shake window frames still blew.
Enkrid traced back what Rynox had said and asked:
"Jerry, Even, Royst, Pale—why were those four attacked?"
The expected answer came from the Head's mouth:
"They all have military service experience."
Heskal was very clever. Such a person wouldn't have stabbed just anyone. Even with the risk of having his tail caught if he made a mistake, if he had deliberately harmed them, there would be a reason. Enkrid concluded as much.
Military service experience—meaning they had served in the army.
Enkrid looked around.
Outstanding individuals including the Head, Rynox, and Alexandra were lined up.
If they went out to the continent, each one could make a name for themselves with their skills alone.
Even the limping Riley Zaun, whose head seemed like it might spin from the complexity of his father's betrayal, had skills that few on the continent could handle.
However, these people didn't know how to fight together.
"Are demons involved?"
Nevertheless, these people were strong. The number of knights alone exceeded five. To target such a group, you would need corresponding power.
It was a question containing such intent.
"I don't know."
"Why don't you know?"
"There are traces of whoever spread the disease, but I've never met them. I've been chasing this persistent and continuous danger for over twenty years."
"They say the hunter's village has turned away—what's the biggest danger that creates?"
"We're trapped. They would have laid traps around us."
The Head calmly answered all questions, and everyone heard.
In other words, they were trapped, and the ill-humored sorcerer who had been spreading disease for a very long time and stuck his face up into the sky was also targeting them.
'Meanwhile, all those with command experience got hit.'
Though Anne was busily grinding herbs and preparing medicine to feed them, there was also the reality that everyone was ill.
Purpose? As repeatedly stated, such things weren't important.
Zaun's swordsmen sensed danger. That's why these words came out:
"Right, well, if they come at us, we just kill them all, right?"
Destroyer Rynox calmly received those words but showed no anxious signs. Though he was a man who changed sides here and there acting according to his mood, when his family—moreover, the place where he was born and raised—was threatened, there would be nothing to worry about.
Most members who defended this place were similar to him. This atmosphere was also why they had this conversation.
"If they come at us, we just cut them down."
"Is this real combat? My sword has been whining every night wanting to drink blood, which was troublesome."
"Stabbed Grida? You're all dead."
Everyone didn't lose motivation. They were people whose fighting spirit boiled up more in crisis.
Well, there was one crazy bastard making strange sounds about his sword talking, but at least their hearts weren't broken first.
'Information is important.'
Luagarne had said those words several times. Her tactical thinking was so excellent that none of the madmen could follow.
Enkrid had learned from such a Frok.
That nothing was more important than gathering information in any fight. What Enkrid had just done was exactly that.
You had to know what the enemy was aiming for and what dangers your allies faced.
Having faced all of that now.
'Well.'
He just thought it didn't seem like such a crisis after all.