Chapter 280: The Black Sword is Good at Scheming (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 280: The Black Sword is Good at Scheming (2)
Why did Marcus have to obey the summons from the capital?
"Those bastards in my family should have been my shield, but they threw me straight to the wolves instead. Fucking politicians, the lot of them."
Those were the words that spilled from Marcus’s mouth.
Encrid briefly wondered if Marcus was insulting himself, but now was not the time to point that out.
"To the capital, keeping a portion of the Border Guard here, raising warhorses, and training archers looks like the first steps of a rebellion. They’re asking why a noble from a prominent capital family is gathering power in the north."
"A prominent family?"
"My family, I mean."
Encrid didn't bother to ask which family it was. The point was simple.
Marcus had intended to reorganize the north around the Border Guard. But from the capital's perspective, a dangerous question had arisen: 'What are you trying to do by gathering power there?'
"To take care of the north," Marcus had answered.
To which they replied:
"We don't think so. For now, come up and let's talk. Besides, isn't your family originally a guardian family of the capital? Come back. We'll make you a central official."
"What if I refuse?"
"Oh? Then it really looks like you're plotting a rebellion. You're refusing a direct order?"
"I told you, it's not a rebellion."
"If it's not, then come to the capital. Come and talk. Stop harassing the neighboring territories. Didn't you say you're only defending anyway? Then they won't touch you either."
"If I trust that and leave, they'll raid us. Let me finish this matter first, then I'll go."
"It is a rebellion. This man is a traitor."
"I said it's not!"
"Then come."
Stripped of all the flowery language, titles, and formalities, their exchange boiled down to that. Marcus had resisted, but it was futile. He was being forced back to the capital.
"This won't be the end. Those bandit bastards must be behind this."
These were the words of Marcus, a born politician. But why did he go out of his way to come and say this to Encrid?
Before Encrid could voice the question, Marcus spoke first. He pushed himself away from the pillar he was leaning against and stood straight. He squared his shoulders and straightened his back as if performing a formal military salute.
For a brief moment, it felt as if Marcus was drawing in all the surrounding air. He composed his breathing, his expression turning solemn.
"Help Graham. Protect the territory."
It was not an order. It was a request. At least, that was how it sounded to Encrid's ears.
"Yes."
Encrid replied instantly. Marcus let out a breath, his expression looking somewhat drained.
"......My worries were pointless."
"Pardon?"
"It's nothing."
Marcus turned around. Battalion Commander Marcus had harbored several worries on his way here. Would Encrid stay in the territory until the end? Would it be better to give up on this place and summon him to the capital? Or would the boy just go his own way?
Ah, those fucking capital officials.
Marcus felt a fresh urge to curse the corrupt nobles and officials. He cursed them daily, but right now, he wanted to drill a hole straight through each of their foreheads. He wanted to hire an assassin famous enough to be recorded in the history books. Like the one nicknamed 'Red Dot'—or 'Redat' for short—because he left a single red mark on his targets' foreheads. Or was it Red Spot?
Regardless, he wanted to cut away the rot.
Fine. I'm going.
He had no intention of rolling over just because he was summoned. He wouldn't stay quiet. He would hunt down and crush every single person who had been played by the Black Sword.
However, for him to exert that kind of influence, this place had to remain intact. The enemy was deliberately targeting the Border Guard.
So, what could Marcus do?
What else?
Just as he always did. He would leave the fighting to those who excelled at it, and go do what he was good at.
Marcus decided he should write a few more letters before leaving. He needed to make every possible preparation before his departure. In the midst of this, his thoughts drifted back to Encrid, the biggest variable in his plans.
Will he stay?
Like a true politician, he had come with half-suspicion and the intent to persuade, but the answer had come far too easily. Encrid had answered readily. There was no falsehood in him, nor did he exude a grand sense of duty, yet Marcus knew Encrid would protect this place.
This was simply the kind of man he was.
Though one could not see the fire he harbored in his chest, it was burning, hidden from view. If he had declared his intention to become a knight, he should have long since rushed to the capital, to the royal palace, to struggle for a spot in an order.
What was the reason he remained here despite possessing 'Will'?
It was a question that arose anew.
What kind of knight do you wish to be?
Next time they met, Marcus wanted to ask him.
Somehow, his heart felt reassured. The stifling weight in his chest eased. It felt as if a tangled thread had finally been unraveled. He didn't know the reason, and he couldn't foresee the future, but one thing was certain.
He won't go down easily.
It was strange. No matter how much Graham, the 1st Company Commander, worked himself to the bone, it didn't feel as reassuring as a single word from Encrid.
Is it the difference in skill?
He knew it now. Encrid had become a fearsome swordsman. He was on the path to becoming a knight. He had even realized 'Will'.
Was that why? No, that wasn't it. Marcus knew it instinctively.
Returning to his office, he found Graham waiting for him.
"I'm sorry, Graham. A proper appointment ceremony will be impossible. Above all, I have no idea what the battalion commander at the Greenpearl garrison is thinking. If even that bastard has turned, things will be difficult."
"Do not worry, sir. We will not lose to the likes of the Black Sword."
Graham was a great soldier and a fine man, but...
Why does he inspire less confidence than that simple "Yes"?
Marcus shook his head inwardly and patted Graham on the shoulder. The situation was turning to shit, yet he had to leave. It was a bitter pill to swallow.
He resolved once more: he would absolutely take the head of whoever was involved in this.
*
"Cultists have risen in the south of Martai!"
This was all anyone heard whenever traveling merchants or locals gathered. They said a man claiming to be a cult bishop had appeared in the south, leading a horde of demonic beasts. Rumors were rampant that the Wolf Bishop, a notorious figure within the cult, had marched out with his forces.
Naturally, it wasn't just a rumor.
[As winter arrives, for those shivering and starving in the cold, I shall personally declare this place a sacred ground.]
The bishop's declaration was written on parchment and scattered everywhere. It eventually made its way into the Border Guard as well.
"Oh boy. What utter bullshit."
The soldiers clicked their tongues. The bishop had openly declared the Martai region and the Border Guard as the cult's sacred ground. It was a clear ultimatum: he would kill anyone who opposed him, so they should pack up and get lost.
This was a massive problem.
After Marcus left, Graham—now the acting castellan and battalion commander—broke out in a cold sweat. Why were cultists suddenly appearing now? Their military strength was already stretched thin, and now the Black Sword and the cultists were closing in from different directions.
"Did that bastard Marcus get scared and run away?"
Viscount Tarnin ramped up his provocations. At the same time, he subtly advanced his troops. The faint scent of blood and iron began to drift over the fields.
"I must send someone to Count Molsen to request reinforcements."
Graham acted immediately. The children of the great noble who held the most influence in this region were currently in the territory. Surely the Count would help? Graham even subtly leaked the fact that the Count's two sons were here to ensure a response.
The reply arrived shortly after.
"Cultists have also risen in the county, and because of winter, too many monsters are appearing. Deal with it yourselves."
Slam!
Graham slammed his fist against the wall. Since the wall was solid brick, it didn't budge. A sharp pain radiated through his hand, but he didn't care.
"Damn it! Your territory is next after ours!"
Count Molsen's territory wouldn't be safe for long. The ones hiding behind that pig Tarnin were the Black Sword bandits. No, at this point, they weren't even hiding. Several swordsmen known to belong to the bandit group had shown their faces openly.
They were fully committed.
The cultists were coming up from the south while keeping Martai in check, but the two groups didn't encroach on each other, as if they had signed a non-aggression pact. It was a coordinated assault.
If it looked like one, it was one.
Would the two groups stop after occupying the Border Guard? Would they pat their bellies and disband? Not a chance. If they succeeded here, they would only run wilder.
Graham dispatched crows and pigeons to the capital. No answer came. Instead, other news arrived.
"Battalion Commander."
Marcus had apologized for handing over the position at such a time. Although the ceremony had been skipped, Graham had intended to prove himself through this crisis. But now...
The words Marcus had left behind echoed in his mind.
"If things look completely hopeless, just do what you can and run."
He wondered if that time had already come. The news that arrived next plunged the new commander into despair.
"Azpen has moved."
There was a man who was originally the reserve battalion commander. He had stationed his troops in the Greenpearl Plains, training warhorses and building a village. They were turning the garrison into a proper territory, moving beyond a mere military outpost.
A messenger arrived from Greenpearl. Azpen had mobilized its forces, broken its treaty, and crossed the border.
It was an invasion.
Just because they had lost once didn't mean the people of Azpen would sit idly by forever. But why did it have to be now?
This was a problem that could only be resolved with support from the capital. There was no way the Border Guard could handle this alone. Reinforcements would come eventually—they had to, now that Azpen had moved.
However...
That only matters if we're still alive to see them.
The moment he was appointed, Graham wanted to resign. The Black Sword's scheming had become a sharp blade, beginning to tear through the Border Guard. They had driven Marcus out, summoned the cultists, and set Azpen in motion.
The sky was dark. Heavy clouds hung thick, blocking the sunlight even during the day. Dark clouds loomed over the territory in more ways than one.
*
"What are you going to do now?"
A Black Sword executive chuckled, feeling a rush of satisfaction as he downed a glass of strong liquor.
How dare they touch us?
They had used every connection and spent a fortune in gold. This was the result. Viscount Tarnin and the Black Sword army. The cultists to the south. And to the east, the rise of Azpen.
Now, what could they possibly do?
*
With news of the crisis spreading, the flow of merchants to the territory dried up.
"I hear war is breaking out."
"I heard cultists are invading."
"No, that's not it. I heard the unit in Greenpearl has turned traitor. They're angry that someone else was made commander."
"I heard the capital is abandoning the place because it's an eyesore..."
"Is that all? I heard even Count Molsen turned his back on them."
When would the Border Guard fall? To Encrid, these were just rumors to be ignored. But there was someone who couldn't afford to be so calm.
Graham felt suffocated. It felt as if a blade was pressed against his throat. If he held a council to stop Viscount Tarnin, he worried about his rear. When he sent a messenger to the Greenpearl battalion, the reply only made things worse.
"The enemy's numbers are vast. Unless you want us to be annihilated, send reinforcements."
Reinforcements? They were so short-handed he felt like raising an army of ghouls. His stubbly beard and bloodshot eyes told the story of his mental state.
"Fuck you, Marcus."
In the end, Graham cursed his predecessor. There was no joy in being the commander of a sinking ship.
While the leader of the territory was spiraling into a panic, someone in Encrid's company was in a similar state.
"Captain, Captain... don't you think it's time for us to run?"
Encrid looked at him. "What are you talking about?"
"Did you swear an oath of loyalty to the Queen or something? You didn't! There's no way we can block the cultists, the Black Sword, and Azpen all at once!"
This was unlike his usual self. Encrid observed Krais—nicknamed 'Big-Eyes'—for a moment. The man was shaking his legs violently, biting his nails, and blinking incessantly. His pupils were trembling.
He wasn't normal.
Encrid didn't claim to know every detail of his squad's pasts, but he knew their quirks. He knew Rem hated the cold, and Ragna was a lazy soul with no sense of direction. He knew Sachsen hid a dark, chilling side, and he knew Krais's habits.
This big-eyed friend had not had an easy life. Then again, no one in this squad had. They wouldn't have drifted to the border otherwise. They weren't called the 'troublemaker squad' for nothing.
"This is the absolute worst," Krais muttered, rattling off the coming disasters. "Even if we use the walls to block the Black Sword, what about the cultists? That Wolf Bishop is famous. I've gathered info on him."
His face was pale with fright.
"He roams with hundreds of demonic wolves. A man with a massive bounty has stepped into the light. What does that mean? It means the kingdom has abandoned this place. I don't know what they got in return, but they sold us out. This is land abandoned by the Queen. Look—Azpen has lined up its troops, but not a single knight order has arrived. Why? It's politics. Did they trade Greenpearl for peace? Did they make a deal with the cultists? At the very least, the Black Sword..."
He was rambling. Encrid understood half of it and let the rest slide. He looked around at the others.
He saw the gazes directed at him. He realized something in that moment. These people would do whatever he decided. If he suggested abandoning the territory right now, they would follow him.
Rem, Ragna, Audin, Sachsen, Dunchabel, Teresa, and Krais. Even the 'leopard' who had slipped in quietly would be the same.
The nine of them. Originally, they were a force whose disappearance wouldn't have mattered to anyone.
But now?
Krais's analysis was that the previous battle was an easy victory only because Marcus had hidden this company's true strength. Encrid’s judgment was the same.
So, what would happen if they pulled out now?
The answer was simple. The territory would completely collapse.