Chapter 344: Choosing Sides
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 344: Choosing Sides
“You call this tea?”
Marcus grimaced as he lifted the teacup. It tasted atrocious. He would have been grateful if it at least had the faint scent of grass, but this was worse.
“If you wanted to complain, you should have visited the castellan’s office,” Graham replied flatly.
“This place was closer, and I heard the sounds of a struggle, so I stopped by here first. Did I hurt your feelings?”
“Not at all.”
Graham didn't care that Marcus had visited Encrid first. Lately, he was completely consumed by the simple joy of swinging a sword. The idea that he deserved priority respect just because he was the castellan? He wasn't some high-born noble who obsessed over such things.
In fact, if he had the time, he wanted to clash swords with Encrid himself. It looked like Encrid had just finished a bout; would it be rude to ask for a match right now?
Encrid would likely accept a spar at any time, but perhaps not with Marcus sitting right there.
The only people currently in the dining hall were the castellan, Marcus, Encrid, and Krais. The other members of the company seemed to have no intention of getting involved in a headache-inducing conversation.
“Looks like he came to play because he’s bored. Just humor him for a bit,” Rem had said before walking away. That was that.
While Marcus busied himself complaining about the tea, Encrid took note of the two guards standing behind the man. He was particularly focused on the one on the left—a tall man with long arms and a whip coiled around his waist. A sharp weight was attached to the end of the whip; getting hit by that wouldn't just result in a bruise.
How would he react if I closed the distance?
Curiosity welled up within him. A whip was a long-range weapon; the greater the distance, the more advantageous it became. Since it required maintaining a specific range to strike without being hit back, it would be incredibly threatening in the hands of a master.
Encrid wanted to face him. After all, it wasn't every day he encountered someone using such an unusual weapon.
“I heard you didn't even spare a glance for our Kin?” Marcus said suddenly.
Encrid blinked, not understanding the reference. He didn't even know who Kin was.
“The beauty from our family who visited you before. Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten?”
“Ah.”
How could he have forgotten so soon? He simply hadn't paid her any mind.
“Kin was throwing a fit because you didn't even bother to ask for her name.”
Marcus took a final sip of the tea and set the cup down. Having no intention of drinking more, he pushed it to the edge of the table.
Encrid gave a small nod. It was true. He hadn't asked for her name. She had waited two days to see him, but as soon as she arrived, he had told her to leave.
“Is that so?”
“You really have no interest, do you?”
“Should I?”
“There’s no need,” Marcus chuckled.
Had he really come all this way just because he was free? That was highly unlikely. Sitting beside them, Krais quietly observed Marcus’s expressions, his clever mind spinning rapidly to analyze the man's intentions. Questions and answers flashed through his head in quick succession.
Why come here now? To tell us to stop expanding the city? No, that’s not it.
He likely used that as an excuse to slip away from the capital.
Marcus must have stepped forward, claiming that as the former castellan, he would go and talk some sense into the frontier. It was a plausible reason and a perfect excuse for an outing.
Above all, why had Marcus been summoned to the capital in the first place? It was because the growing military force in Border Guard had raised suspicions of rebellion. He was told to answer for it if his conscience was pricked.
Yet, even in Marcus’s absence, the city had grown larger. The military force had increased. It was swelling to the point where it wouldn't be an exaggeration to call it the formation of a threatening warlord faction.
“See, it’s not my fault! That’s why I’m going to persuade them to behave!”
Marcus might have phrased it elegantly to the royals, but the substance was the same. If he pushed that narrative, slipping away wouldn't have been difficult.
So, did he really come to deliver a warning? Krais’s intuition said no. There was a deeper reason he had fled the capital at this specific timing.
What did he want? What was he hoping for? What was here in Border Guard that he needed?
Krais’s gaze naturally drifted to the side. He saw Encrid’s profile—the black-haired, blue-eyed, incredibly dangerous, mad company commander. From the royal palace’s perspective, Encrid was a blade that had appeared out of nowhere.
Ah.
Only then did Krais grasp a piece of the puzzle.
The Captain is the key.
Encrid’s existence was like a meteor falling from the sky. A red-hot meteorite drew attention simply by existing; the eyes watching him would only increase, never decrease. Among them, some were favorable, others hostile. Marcus seemed to be on the favorable side, but Krais knew there was nothing more foolish than trusting someone in politics.
Krais knew this from the books of his childhood, his experience, and his instincts. Likewise, Marcus wouldn't easily trust Encrid either.
So, this is a test.
While Encrid, Marcus, and the castellan exchanged trivialities, Krais kept thinking. He formulated hypotheses and fitted them to current events, stacking pieces of information until they formed a conclusion.
The Captain needed to know this to respond properly. If left alone, Encrid might be dragged along by Marcus’s pace—though, knowing the Captain, perhaps he wouldn't be so easily swayed. Still, Krais couldn't stand by when danger was in plain sight.
For some reason, he recalled the Captain’s back as he stood blocking the path ahead of them. You had to press for answers when the moment called for it. If you failed to strike when the iron was hot, you would find yourself at a disadvantage.
Krais opened his mouth.
“Did you come to confirm something?”
At the sudden question, Graham’s gaze shifted first. Aside from training, the castellan had been resting well, dumping all the administrative work onto his adjutant. In truth, Krais had been doing almost everything lately, with the adjutant serving as a mere assistant. Krais had even recruited several people to work under him with the castellan’s tacit approval.
Thanks to all that rest, the castellan’s eyes were sharp as they turned toward Krais.
“What are you trying to say?” Graham asked. Marcus hadn't appointed him castellan for nothing; Graham knew exactly when to step in.
Marcus merely watched in silence.
“Why leave the self-proclaimed king alone? Why leave the territory’s defenses so lax?” Krais raised his voice slightly.
Graham’s brow furrowed. That was crossing the line. It could be construed as discussing treason. They were already facing pressure due to their expanded military force, and it was largely thanks to Marcus that they had held out this far.
Krais placed his hands on the table, laced his fingers together, and leaned forward.
“Even if we raise an army here, the capital won’t send troops. No—they can’t send them.”
Marcus stared at Krais. Before Graham could speak, Marcus asked, “Why do you think so?”
“Didn’t I just say? They are leaving a self-proclaimed king alone and letting the territory’s defenses rot.”
The capital ignored the frontier even when monsters and demonic beasts ran rampant in what was essentially a low-grade Demon Realm. If it was a problem a "mad company" member who wasn't even a knight could resolve, then the kingdom's knights could have handled it easily.
Krais had seen Associate Knight Aisia and Frok Luagarne. If the capital could send them, they should have been able to deal with a low-grade Demon Realm. Yet they didn't.
No, they couldn't. They could send a single associate knight, but they couldn't dispatch a proper unit. The reason?
They don't have the leeway.
“Something is happening in the capital,” Krais concluded. “Something far more dangerous and threatening than striking down a frontier king or clearing out monsters.”
Look at this brat. Marcus’s eyes swept over the "Big-Eyed" subordinate. Was he always this sharp?
Honestly, Marcus was impressed. Coming to Border Guard, he saw that the scale of the city had completely changed. Stationing a squad at each of the surrounding outposts was a masterstroke. Was it merely to deal with monsters? No, there were several other layers to it.
First, it won the trust of traveling merchants. If the outposts stabilized, it would create a route where even small-scale peddlers could travel safely. The merchants’ trust would pump the blood of gold coins through the city. The more gold circulated, the wealthier the city became.
It’s no wonder the neighboring lords are throwing fits.
The residents were the strength of a territory. Yet the people who should be farming were running away to Border Guard. And Border Guard had the capacity to absorb them because they had Greenpearl. They only lacked hands and infrastructure to cultivate that vast land.
All of this could be solved with Krona. Earn gold through trade, then gather people through rumors. It was an extraordinary strategy.
And the outposts served a second purpose: an excuse.
When the capital questioned the expansion of military forces, they could say: “We need numbers because of the monsters. Look, aren't we establishing a safe trade route? We aren't gathering forces to fight; we’re dispersing them to protect.”
Would the person who set this in motion stop here? No. He would extend the trade routes all the way to neighboring territories. He would build pioneer towns. Marcus could see it now—a web of trading territories with Border Guard at the center, backed by the agricultural power of Greenpearl. A land more fertile and powerful than the territory of Count Molsen, the self-proclaimed king of the frontier.
Marcus wondered whose head this idea came from. Looking at the big-eyed youth in front of him, he had his answer.
Marcus rested his elbows on the table and laced his fingers under his chin. “You said something is happening in the capital. What do you think it is?”
“How should I know?” Krais shrugged, leaning back.
He won’t speak on what he doesn’t know for sure, even if he has a guess? Interesting.
“Your tone is insolent,” Marcus’s guard stepped forward, his voice cold.
Krais didn't even look at him. Instead, someone else spoke.
“It feels like the situation is reversed, though,” Encrid said.
Normally, a subordinate would step forward to speak for their leader, but Encrid didn't care about the breach in etiquette.
“Don’t step forward,” Encrid added, not even glancing at the guard. “Your head will fly off.”
Veins bulged on the back of the guard’s hand. He gripped his sword, flaring his aura. He looked ready to strike. He wasn't an associate knight, but he clearly had the bearing of a veteran who had survived many battles.
Encrid knew the man was underestimating him. No matter how many rumors circulated, there were always those who didn't believe until they saw it.
“If you draw that, you’ll get beaten. If you keep running your mouth, you’ll get beaten too,” Encrid warned again.
When Marcus didn't stop him, the guard made up his mind. He would teach this insolent brat a lesson. He wouldn't use the edge; he’d just strike him with the flat of the blade.
Click. He released the scabbard latch, aiming for Krais’s cheek rather than Encrid’s.
“Stop it,” Graham warned, but it was useless.
The guard drew his sword. But just as the steel cleared the scabbard with a sharp shhhk—
Encrid pushed his chair back and stood. The chair flipped backward with a crash, and in that same heartbeat, Encrid vanished.
To the guard, it looked like he had simply ceased to exist.
It was the Will of Moment.
Encrid reappeared right under the guard’s nose.
“Uh—!”
Startled, the man tried to pull his sword back. Encrid lightly pressed down on the guard’s sword-hand and drove his opposite elbow forward.
Thud.
The blow struck perfectly between the man's lower abdomen and his heart, catching the airway. It was a lethal vital point he had learned from Audin.
The guard gasped, flailing for air before collapsing to the floor.
The second guard didn't move. He had a cooler head and simply stood behind Marcus, watching Encrid with intense focus.
Encrid straightened his posture, ignoring the man groaning on the floor. He turned his attention back to Marcus. Krais had asked if Marcus came to confirm something, and Marcus hadn't answered.
Krais had held back his final words because they were too dangerous, but Encrid didn't care for such subtleties.
“Is it a civil war?” Encrid asked.
That was the "confirmation" Marcus was seeking. He was choosing sides. He was checking to see who was with him and who was against him before the storm hit.
“You’re quick on the uptake,” Marcus said.
He looked down at his fallen guard, who was staggering to his feet. The man’s eyes were murderous, but he wasn't an idiot; he had felt the overwhelming gap in their skills.
“As expected of the man who could look down on Kin,” Marcus added with a smirk.
Encrid wondered what on earth that had to do with anything.