Chapter 302: Whose Side is the Greenpearl Unit On?
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 302: Whose Side is the Greenpearl Unit On?
"Not good."
That was his answer when asked if he was alright.
Lying in bed, Graham could only manage to lift his head to look at Encrid. He had been stabbed deep in the back and was currently immobile.
In other words, the Border Guard Standing Army had lost its commander. They were forced to fight a war without their Castellan, their Battalion Commander, or their commander-in-chief.
"You don't need me anyway," Graham grunted.
The adjutant nearly nodded in agreement. In fact, there were two adjutants present, and one of them actually did.
"Look at this bastard, actually nodding."
"A-Ah, no, sir!"
At Graham’s growl, the adjutant frantically changed his vertical nod into a desperate horizontal shake.
Encrid watched the brief comedy before asking, "So, am I taking over?"
"Who else would?"
Graham realized it anew. I’m the Castellan in name only.
The city’s true hero was someone else. The man standing before him—the one who had slain the enemy commander and kept a pack of madmen under control—was certainly not normal. Yet, he was a man who knew how to save a child.
He had thrown his body on the line to save a girl in a split second.
It was a reckless act, but...
Because he was that kind of person, he could be trusted. And because he was that kind of person, Graham had no complaints. Right now, even if Encrid demanded the Castellan’s seat, Graham would have handed it over gladly.
Of course, the man wouldn't ask. It was just a passing thought.
Even if he was a figurehead, Graham didn't feel bitter. It was strange; no jealousy arose toward the man before him. Was it because he had watched Encrid rise from the very bottom? Or was it because he knew how Encrid swung his sword until his palms tore open?
Even though his skills had grown incomparably, he was a man who still pushed himself until his hands bled. To envy such a man would be to admit one was a piece of trash.
Perhaps that was it.
Maybe I just don't want to be trash, Graham concluded. Still, curiosity got the better of him. "Why did you save that child?"
It had been dangerous. It had been, logically speaking, meaningless. Amidst the flashes and explosions, a moment’s distraction would have meant death. Yet, Encrid had rolled through the dirt while shielding the girl, suffering burns across his back and shoulders.
Why? She was just one little girl. He had risked everything for a child who would have naturally died from a stray arrow if he hadn't stepped in. Graham couldn't fully grasp the logic, but the result was clear: he had saved her.
He had swung his sword for a complete stranger. He was like a hero out of a storybook.
Encrid replied without a hint of hesitation. "Because I wanted to."
His nonchalance was even more striking. This bastard was truly a magnificent madman.
Graham picked a fight just for the sake of it. "Answer your Battalion Commander politely, Company Commander. Have you been spending too much time around Rem?"
"That’s an insult. Are you asking me to challenge you to a duel?"
"Bringing up Rem was a mistake."
"Yes, it was."
"Come back victorious," Graham said, his voice turning serious. "When you return, I’ll be the first to welcome you at the victory march."
"Should I be happy about being welcomed by an old man instead of a beautiful woman?"
Encrid seemed genuinely curious, and the foolish adjutant nodded again. Why on earth was he agreeing with that?
"Get out."
Graham kicked both Encrid and the adjutant out of the room.
*
As Castellan, Graham worried for the city. Encrid had caught a glimpse of that sense of responsibility, and he liked it quite a bit.
Therefore, as he left, Encrid left him with one promise: "I will return victorious."
Graham didn't say much, but the worry had vanished from his eyes.
Outside, the snow was letting up. Since they didn't know how long Azpen would remain idle, they had to set out soon as reinforcements for Greenpearl.
"I wish the snow would read the room and stop already, don't you think?"
The adjutant was remarkably dense. He didn't realize that the falling snow had actually bought them precious time to recover. How had this man even become an adjutant?
"You need to work on your tact," Encrid advised pointedly before turning away.
He saw the child’s mother in the distance, and throughout the city, he saw the wounded mercenaries. They were staying at the local inns; some promised to join the upcoming campaign, while others chose to remain independent.
There were quite a few interesting characters among them. One was Edin Molsen.
"Watch out for my father," Edin said, approaching him out of nowhere.
"You realize that sounds like you're telling me to watch out for you, right?"
"It’s not a warning. It’s advice."
"Understood."
Encrid brushed it off. Was Count Molsen really the priority right now? No. The order of operations was clear. Their current opponent was Azpen—an Azpen that was coming at them with full intent.
"Don't forget my words," Edin Molsen repeated.
Encrid replied playfully, "By the way, what was your name again?"
"...You forgot it again?!"
Before Edin could throw a fit, Encrid hurried back to his barracks.
*
"Got anything to eat? Anything? Don't you know injured people need to eat well?"
As soon as Encrid entered the barracks, Rem greeted him like a baby bird waiting for its mother. The man was ridiculously obsessed with food.
Encrid had just finished a round of the town, partly for his own recovery and partly to check on the mercenaries who had stayed to fight. He happened to have some bread, marmalade, and seasoned jerky in his hands.
"They say even a ghost looks better if it dies on a full stomach."
"That’s a western joke. How do you know it?" Rem chuckled, stuffing bread into his mouth.
Watching him, Encrid recalled Gilpin, whom he had met just before returning from the market. The fellow had been acting strange.
"Several spies slipped in, and we lost a few of them," Gilpin had told him abruptly. "We will monitor them more thoroughly."
A firm resolve had been visible in his tightly clenched jaw. Encrid hadn't said much in response, merely wondering why these guys were the ones hunting spies. Wasn't that the job of the city guard?
Regardless, Gilpin’s eyes were blazing with a newfound passion. It was as if he had found his calling. Since it had started with Krais’s orders, it certainly wasn't a divine summons, but Gilpin acted as if it were.
"Meelun is dealing with anyone who looks like they can handle a blade the moment they show their faces. We will expand our guild and bring the city’s night completely under our control."
Though Encrid didn't know it, Gilpin had witnessed the battlefield. He had watched the fight, specifically keeping his eyes on Encrid. He had always known Encrid was incredible, but in this battle, Encrid was different.
Standing at the very front, facing the blades. Fighting the enemy commander face-to-face. That was astonishing, but what had truly seared itself into Gilpin’s heart was the sight of Encrid rolling on the ground to protect that child.
That image had haunted him for days.
Was there any reason to save her?
There wasn't. Yet he did. The child being kidnapped had been Gilpin’s own failure. He had resolved to root out the spies and protect the city’s shadows, even with the help of the Frok named Meelun.
And yet, I let them slip away.
That day, Gilpin had clenched his teeth so hard his gums bled.
Over a hundred years ago, there was a man who had single-handedly united the Thieves' Guild. He wasn't a mere bandit, but a chivalrous thief who made helping the poor his life’s banner. Having known nothing but thievery since childhood, he rose to the absolute peak of that world.
The continent’s only Rogue Master. A Bard who sang of the night’s romance. The Emperor of the Back Alleys, Kiuzelas.
As a child, Gilpin’s dream was to be a Guardian of the Night—a concept created by Kiuzelas. It meant ensuring the people’s peace by guarding the darkness. Looking at the smiles of those around him, Gilpin felt he was becoming something more than a thief. He believed he was protecting the city of his birth.
This is the city where I was raised. Let’s protect it. If not me, then who?
He had lost the child. He had let spies slip away. No one blamed him—not even the child’s mother—but Gilpin blamed himself.
It’s my fault.
People could mock a half-baked thief for talking about duty. But if I’m to dream... Gilpin wanted to embrace that childhood dream once more.
And just before that dream was shattered, Encrid had saved the child. He had witnessed the mother’s gratitude. In that moment, Gilpin saw something extraordinary in Encrid. It wasn't just about sword skills.
Would Kiuzelas have been like this?
Encrid was a man with a different heart and a different will. Gilpin recognized that.
"Why did he do that?" he had asked Krais.
The answer he received was a masterpiece: "Probably because he found it offensive. The enemy commander’s actions were pathetic. Imagine how pissed off the bastard would be if the kid got saved."
Was that really the reason? No. He had saved a life. By saving her, he had protected the city. Though unintentional, Encrid’s actions had completely captured the veteran thief’s heart.
Gilpin made up his mind. Even if I must throw away this life...
He would protect the city’s night and gladly clear every pebble from this man’s path.
Although it looked like he was swearing loyalty to the wrong person—considering Krais was the one who had raised him—nothing would change even when Krais eventually learned of Gilpin’s thoughts.
Well, let him do as he pleases, would be Krais’s attitude. He was nonchalant. As long as the job got done, it was fine. In fact, he was just grateful to be told in advance; it meant Gilpin wouldn't stab him in the back later.
Encrid, of course, knew none of this. He was simply pleased to see someone showing such enthusiasm.
"I’ll be rooting for you."
"I will clear even the pebbles from your path."
Encrid couldn't fully grasp the weight of those words, but he took it to mean Gilpin would keep the back alleys clean.
*
For a brief stop in the city, quite a lot had happened.
Ending his brief musings, Encrid turned his gaze to Dunchabel. Her cheekbones were swollen, and she looked like she had been beaten black and blue.
"We’re marching as soon as the snow stops. How could you beat her to a pulp like this?" Encrid scolded. She was a beastman and a vital part of their combat power.
"She’ll heal in half a day. Do I look like someone who beats a kid without thinking?" Rem retorted.
Encrid almost nodded but caught himself. He couldn't afford to act like that tactless adjutant.
"Her jaw looks a bit dislocated, though."
"Must be your eyes that are injured, then," Rem dismissed him.
Ignoring them, Encrid saw Krais. The man had spent the entire day sleeping to "focus on his skincare," and was now sitting before the brazier with a blank expression. On the surface, he looked like he was idling, but Encrid believed he was spinning his brain furiously.
Slurp.
Krais drooled and sucked it back in. "Ah, I dozed off."
He really was just idling. Encrid debated whether to smack him on the back of the head. Just then, Krais stretched and stood up.
"You're back?"
"Yeah."
"I've been thinking."
"And?" Encrid asked. If useless words came out of that mouth, he was definitely going to hit him.
Unaware of the danger, Krais continued in his usual tone. "Those Azpen bastards must have set a trap."
The heavy snowfall was thinning, and Krais had been racking his brains. If they had struck from behind earlier... It would have been a difficult fight, but an expected one. Azpen should have attacked while they had the advantage.
But they didn't. Winter battles were hard enough; why were they stalling? Azpen hadn't invaded; they had waited. Even as the snow stopped, there was no surprise attack. Only now were they reportedly moving their troops.
It was as if they were waiting for the battle on this side to conclude. It was highly suspicious. Something was fishy—very, very fishy. Anxiety surged again.
If it were me, I would have struck. What fight was easier than stabbing someone in the back while they were already engaged? Yet Azpen had held back. There was a reason. This was the worst-case scenario.
Krais reached a single conclusion. "It will be a tougher fight than the alliance of the Black Sword and the cultists. They might have a hidden Knight. Even if a Knight-level force appears, we don't know if our allies will send support. They might even divert forces to target the city directly."
"What’s your point?"
"My point is, they can do absolutely anything."
"Our response?"
Encrid asked, and Krais answered. Though they spoke in calm tones across the brazier, it was the conversation of a commander and his military advisor.
And why wouldn't it be? Graham was bedridden, having handed full authority to Encrid.
The flames of the brazier cast a reddish glow on Krais’s face. "Do you know the Battalion Commander out in Greenpearl well?"
Encrid shook his head. He had never met the man. However, from what he had gathered, the man was an opportunist who would do anything for profit. He was excellent at logistics and fortification, but combat was not his forte.
In many ways, it was bad news.
"At the worst possible moment, we might face a magic trick where our enemies suddenly double."
At the mention of magic, Esther snorted from the side. She was in her human form today.
While they spoke, the snow stopped completely. It was time to reform their ranks and march. Encrid’s body was about half-recovered. With Graham gone, he would have to lead from the front as the commander-in-chief.
"We’ll have to find out."
Whose side was the Greenpearl Unit really on? Had Azpen been dilly-dallying because they had already secured them as allies? It was a reasonable suspicion. No—it was a necessary one.
"First, we march."
A few days of sweet rest had passed. Having beaten down the wolves, it was time to face the tiger aiming for their backs.
They prepared for departure and began the advance. From checking the wooden fences and watchtowers of Greenpearl to the moment they stepped inside, they could not let their guard down.
The Greenpearl Battalion Commander, fully armored, welcomed Encrid.
The moment Krais saw the man’s face twist, it felt as though his ominous premonitions were turning into reality.