Chapter 329: Bullsh—
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 329: Bullsh—
A hero has emerged from the Border Guard—the man who defeated Azpen and vanquished the cultists!
Whispers of his potential to become a knight are everywhere.
With that alone, Encrid became the most talked-about name in northern Naurilia.
“I must see his face for myself.”
It was only natural that the attention of every noble in the vicinity was drawn to him. An unprecedented hero born on the frontier—the story itself was captivating, and his popularity among the public was overflowing.
If they could keep him close, wouldn't it be the perfect way to flaunt their influence?
But was the benefit only in boosting their prestige? Did they truly believe he would become a knight?
Few believed that merely having the potential to be a knight meant one would actually become one. Only a very select few truly recognized Encrid’s worth.
In truth, the most common reaction was: “A knight? How laughable.”
However, it didn't really matter if he never attained the title. Even if Encrid didn't become a knight, there were plenty of places where he would be useful. Far too many, in fact.
First of all, his martial prowess alone was at a level that could not be ignored. Unlike the so-called riffraff who claimed to be at the level of an Associate Knight, he had properly proven his skills. Hadn't he saved a pioneer village from a crisis, to the point where they were planning to name the fortress wall after him?
Among mercenaries, there were those known as Platinum Mercenaries, and it was said he could hold his own even against them. Even if he never became a knight, his skills were more than enough to serve as a high-level bodyguard.
And the rumors didn't stop at his martial skill.
“I hear he's quite handsome, too.”
His looks were just as devastating as his blade. How could rumors only spread about his strength? It was only natural that the hearts of flighty noblewomen fluttered. They said anyone who laid eyes on him would fall head over heels, earning him the nickname "Charming Company Commander."
“I must see him myself.”
With all this, how could they not be curious? On top of that, Encrid was not a castellan; his rank was merely that of a company commander. He was ripe for the taking, ready to be brought into a noble's embrace.
At least, that was how it appeared on the surface.
For various reasons, the rumors spread like wildfire. Furthermore, Encrid, as a person, offered unique political advantages.
‘If I can bring him to my side...’
Could they also get a piece of the Border Guard as it swallowed up Greenpearl and grew into a major trade city? It was a highly plausible scenario. For one reason or another, the name Encrid echoed from all directions.
It spread far and wide. It didn't take long for it to reach the capital. Starting as a topic in the salons, it eventually reached the ears of the Queen.
They were outdoors in a detached palace where the stars were visible.
“What do you think, Lua?”
At the Queen's question, Frok Luagarne puffed out her cheeks.
Croak.
It was an expression of supreme joy and amusement. What had made the Frok puff her cheeks so?
“Have you fallen for him too?”
The Queen knew that Lua had already met and spent time with Encrid.
Luagarne spoke. “I have been smitten since the moment I first saw him.”
Though she belonged to the kingdom, the Frok was not human. No one forced human etiquette upon her. That was why Luagarne spoke so casually to the Queen. Moreover, this was a private setting; they were conversing over expensive wine touched by the hands of elves. A few attendants stood nearby, but every single one of them silently went about their duties.
“Because of his outstanding looks?” the Queen asked, bringing the glass to her lips to wet her throat.
From Luagarne—a Frok who judged human beauty and coveted handsome faces—came words rarely heard from her.
“He is a human whose heart is far more captivating than his face.”
“I see.” The Queen nodded. “And his potential to be a knight?”
“None.”
Despite the razor-sharp response, the Queen's expression did not change in the slightest. Luagarne did not try to read the Queen's mind. She was the ruler of a nation; there was no way she would show her inner thoughts so easily. Furthermore, reading others' intentions and projecting them onto politics was not Luagarne's specialty.
Above all, Luagarne was currently swept up in pure joy.
‘Are you really going to keep moving forward?’
He had no potential to be a knight. She had seen it herself. Yet, he kept moving forward. He kept changing. He kept improving. He ignored the gazes and opinions of others.
‘Do you truly believe you can become a knight?’
Reason said no. Yet, before she knew it, Luagarne found herself rooting for him. The news that he had beaten a cultist bishop to death also played a part. She could puff her cheeks three times larger than normal to express her displeasure whenever cultists were mentioned. For humans, that would be equivalent to grinding one's teeth in sheer vexation.
“I see.”
Her audience with the Queen was brief.
*
The news eventually made its way to Marcus as well.
“Wow, this is really...”
He was rooting for Encrid with pure sincerity, to the point where he felt nothing but regret for not being able to help him. In fact, when he heard that the Black Sword and the cultists were invading the Border Guard, he had wanted to immediately dispatch a few talents, including Encrid.
Yet, they had won. And the casualties weren't even that high. The letter written by Graham's own hand consisted entirely of complaints about wanting to quit being castellan and talk about the man named Encrid.
‘So, without Enki, everything would have been destroyed.’
Marcus stroked his chin as he sat. Looking at the surrounding political landscape, it seemed Encrid would become the eye of the storm. And why wouldn't he? Even though Encrid didn't represent the city, he was being hailed as a hero.
‘If one can secure Enki...’
...they would be able to exert influence over the Border Guard. Anyone who didn't covet him would be an absolute fool. What should be done to prevent that? The more measures prepared, the better.
For now: ‘First, block that bastard Molsen.’
Who was the most dangerous person among the surrounding nobles? It wasn't just because of Marcus's prejudice that Count Molsen was the first to come to mind. He was a dangerous man who styled himself the King of the Frontier. Because of him, rumors of an impending civil war were constantly circulating.
‘But that bastard Molsen isn't the only problem.’
Marcus resolved to borrow his family's power. The family's greatest beauty was currently stationed closest to Encrid. It would be wonderful if she and Encrid fell in love, but he didn't expect such a miracle. In any case, starting by keeping Molsen in check would do.
“If only we had stockpiled some gold coins,” a mutter escaped his lips.
If the Border Guard had enough power to sustain itself, they could easily bypass many of these issues. The mind of the politician, hidden behind the nickname "Warmonger," spun rapidly. How could he stop those noble bastards from coveting the Border Guard—more precisely, from touching Encrid?
‘Achievements.’
His current achievements were not lacking, but the weight of his past achievements and the ones he would build from now on would be on a different level. Each one would become a fortress wall protecting Encrid. To achieve that, he would need to pull strings from the capital. He could utilize the Soldier Mercenary System.
‘By personally submitting a request so that his value is officially recognized by the royal palace.’
That way, it would serve as a warning to any half-baked fools not to drool over him, since the royal palace had already claimed him. And it would be even better if the Border Guard grew on its own in the meantime.
‘A lord would suit him much better than a castellan.’
Having painted the final picture, Marcus stood up.
“I must see the head of the house.”
He would provide all the support he could from the shadows.
Enki, run wild to your heart's content.
Marcus set off, filled with excitement. Since this was the most entertaining thing he had done recently, his steps were naturally light.
*
Associate Knight Aisia also heard the news and was surprised.
‘He was a peculiar fellow, but...’
Potential to be a knight. Was he really that remarkable? Just because it was impressive that he withstood her intimidation and stepped forward, thinking he could become a knight was an exaggeration. Yet, she couldn't help but feel a strange sense of anticipation.
‘Will I see him here one day?’
Would he stand beside her in the order of knights, in the position of an Associate Knight? It didn't seem like a bad prospect. Though they had only met a few times, he had left a good impression.
*
Unlike Luagarne and Marcus, the Leader of the Black Sword felt as if his stomach were tearing apart.
‘Encrid.’
How could he be at peace when the bastard he absolutely had to kill was running so wild? The Leader of the Black Sword mobilized his remaining members. One of the nobles whose business had been ruined in the past acted as his hands and feet.
He wrote a letter. That letter was sent to several people, including Count Molsen. And that wasn't the end of it. Since Encrid would undoubtedly be summoned to the capital eventually, he would do everything in his power before then.
*
With blonde hair, fair skin, a mustache, and a well-trained physique, he wore a soft fur coat over his shoulders.
“It has been a while.”
It was Count Molsen. He spoke with a calm smile, carrying himself as if he had come to meet an old friend. Encrid thought that when it came to sheer shamelessness, this man might be the greatest on the continent.
‘Ah, there's Rem.’
Then, the second greatest. No, if it was about shamelessness, there was also Ragna, and Sachsen and Audin were no pushovers either. And when Krona was involved, Krais could also contend for the title of the continent's most shameless.
Encrid completely excluded himself from the list and thought that was only natural—a thought that would make his subordinates brandish their weapons if they heard it.
In any case, his opponent was indeed shameless. Previously, he had secretly sent the "Elite-Catching Blade"—who died in just a few exchanges of blows—to play tricks, and he hadn't sent any reinforcements for this battle either. He had turned a blind eye. Yet, the words he uttered upon seeing Encrid's face, claiming it had been a while, were truly spectacular.
“You ought to express your gratitude to me. Thanks to me, you were able to avoid most of those troublesome matters.”
The Count smiled as he spoke. Who groomed that mustache of his? Seeing how it was perfectly trimmed and shaped every single time, it had to be the work of no ordinary hand.
Encrid, thinking that his own hair had grown quite long and his beard was due for a trim, replied, “Should I be grateful?”
“Has your brain stiffened from doing nothing but swinging a sword?”
The Count spoke, half-ignoring the representative of the House of Vaisar beside them. And he had reason to. After all, the Marquis himself hadn't come. The one sent by the Marquis's house was merely a member of a branch family. Even so, ignoring her wasn't normal. It only showed how arrogant Count Molsen was.
“Even if Your Excellency the Count had not come, a member of the Marquis's house is here, so I believe it would have been fine.”
Encrid knew that the spread of his name had drawn the attention of those around him. Hadn't he heard as much while holed up resting in his barracks? Krais had delivered reports without rest, slipping in his own opinions here and there.
“It is hard to even greet you. Even though I waited for two days, the Count has beaten me to the punch like this,” the woman from the Marquis's house chimed in, seeing an opening.
“Do you have a complaint?”
At the Count's words, the woman from the House of Vaisar shook her head. “Of course not.”
Words heavy with mutual wariness were exchanged. The atmosphere between the two was stiff.
“So. You said you were looking for me.”
Encrid, having no interest in whether they fought or not, cut straight to the point. The Count's gaze and the Vaisar woman's gaze broke away from each other and turned toward Encrid.
The woman sent by the House of Vaisar was Kin Vaisar. She had come here with two objectives. First, to prevent the Count from exerting pressure on the man named Encrid. Second, if possible, to bring the man named Encrid into the family's embrace.
The first was a request from the returned prodigal son, Marcus Vaisar. The second was a decision reached through a family council. But judging by Marcus's attitude, shouldn't this fellow Encrid be favorable toward them? From what she could see now, he appeared entirely blunt. Not impolite, but not particularly caring either.
“So you're saying you don't just know how to swing a sword,” the Count spoke once more.
Encrid wanted to shrug his shoulders but held back. There was no reason to express his emotions to this opponent. Would a mere shrug of the shoulders scratch the pride of this shameless bastard? Surely not. It was an intuition, a certainty.
“The surrounding nobles covet a man like me. You dream that by securing me, you can take control of the Border Guard, which is bound to become the largest city in this rapidly developing region.”
‘Is he smart?’ Kin thought to herself.
He grasped the surrounding situation perfectly. Hadn't they said he hadn't come out for two days because he was obsessed with some realization? Naturally, these were words Krais had briefed him on beforehand. Even if one lacked the time to analyze, it was easy to understand once heard.
Encrid continued. “I have no interest.”
“No interest?”
“Yes.”
“Are you swearing loyalty to the royal palace?”
“Does it look that way to you?”
“I hope not.”
It was a small reception room. Count Molsen's eyes seemed to gleam. He had been sitting on the sofa with one leg crossed over his thigh, but he lowered his leg, straightened his posture, and sat up. To Kin, it looked as though the Count's aura was shifting.
And looking at the Count, Encrid was reminded of Krang. It was just like back then. The aura changed. The Count placed his hands on his thighs.
“A threat to the nation exists, and though it must be crushed, we fail to do so. If so, whose fault can we say it is?”
The Count's voice was not loud. Yet, it was heavy, as if piercing through the skin. In an instant, the atmosphere shifted.
“Those who die to monsters, those who die to demonic beasts, and those who are left behind.” The Count's words continued. “Do you feel absolutely nothing when you look at them?”
For a moment, the images of those dying or living overlapped behind the Count. There was a child who gathered herbs, and a woman who made jerky. There was a mother who had sent her child to the army, and a soldier who held a spear to protect his family. The soldier collapsed, bleeding from his eyes, nose, and ears.
“So, I wish to ask. If I want to bring you to my side, what must I give you?”
There was a compelling power in the Count's words. Kin watched, unable to even open her mouth. Furthermore, if you wish to walk a straight and righteous path, this is the correct way—the Count conveyed this with his entire being.
And it wasn't necessarily wrong. Kin knew that Molsen's territory was wealthier than any other surrounding territory. That man was someone who took responsibility for his words. He was a person who could move and influence those around him simply by listening and speaking.
“If you wish to save people, can you truly say the path you are currently walking is the right one?”
The Count's voice filled the reception room. It packed it to the brim. To remain inside this room, it felt as though one had to agree with those words. Kin broke out in a cold sweat from the tension. Instead of his usual relaxed demeanor, the Count displayed a commanding presence. It felt as though they had to give him the answer he wanted—that he was right, and that they would follow his words. It felt as though they had no choice.
And Encrid:
“Bullsh— Ah, my apologies. I was lost in thought for a moment.”
Bullshit?
Kin felt as though she had heard that very word. Though he hadn't finished the word, it sounded exactly as if he had said it.
Encrid found the opponent's behavior disgusting. His mood soured. These were the words of a man hiding his true intentions. “Hypocritical” was the perfect word to describe someone like him.
If it had been Rem instead of an ordinary person like himself, he might have swung an axe and caused a ruckus, but since Encrid was not that kind of person, he responded with polite language. If that could cause even a small ripple in the opponent's mind, his own heart would feel a bit lighter.
There were moments when one simply had to act on a whim. Only then could one's mind be pacified. Only then could one have confidence in the path they walked. What they called chivalry was not mere wordplay; it meant protecting what must be protected. And among those things was Encrid's own heart.
There were times when he had to protect it. Now was that moment. However, since he couldn't just start a fight out of nowhere, translating his feelings into polite language was the best he could do.
The moment Encrid spoke, the illusion woven by the Count's charisma shattered.
Furthermore, the smile on Count Molsen's face deepened. Kin held her breath for a moment.