Chapter 345: What Kind of Person Should a King Be
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 345: What Kind of Person Should a King Be
"What kind of person should a king be?" Marcus asked suddenly.
Encrid didn’t ponder the question deeply. He simply spoke his mind, offering the kind of answer expected from someone who had spent his life fighting to seize what he desired.
"The one who wants to be king is the one who should do it."
Instead of judging the answer, Marcus brought up something else. "Just a few months ago, I thought so too."
"And now?"
If not the one who wanted it, then who?
"May I answer that?" a voice called from outside the restaurant.
Marcus hadn't come alone. Encrid turned his gaze toward the entrance.
"I’ve attracted quite a bit of unwanted attention, Marcus Vaisar," the man spoke up, raising his voice.
"That was my intention. I rather enjoy this kind of attention, so do not worry," Marcus replied, turning toward him.
The man standing outside came into view. The Castellan didn't recognize him, Krais thought he looked familiar, but Encrid knew exactly who he was.
It was a blonde man.
As the man lingered, the soldier guarding the entrance silently asked with his eyes whether he should let him in. There were no onlookers nearby. This wasn't a duel; they were merely gathering in a restaurant for tea. There was nothing to watch. Besides, Krais had already ordered the area cleared. Since they didn't know what would be discussed, the fewer ears, the better. It was for this reason that two trustworthy soldiers had been stationed at the door.
The man outside offered a sheepish grin to the guards—a smile that seemed to plead, Please let me in.
He was dressed far from a noble, wearing a simple brown shirt and loose trousers. The soldier was conflicted, wondering if he should chase the stranger away.
"Let him in," Encrid said.
The Castellan didn't object. After all, the man clearly knew Marcus.
The man's boots clicked softly against the stone floor as he approached and stopped in front of Encrid. He was of average height, with gentle features and striking blue eyes.
"It’s been a while," the man said.
"Are you here as a noble?" Encrid stood up, speaking formally.
When they had briefly shared a barracks before, the man had been a mere soldier. What about now? That was the weight behind Encrid's question.
"Speak comfortably. Right now, I am merely a drifter and a wanderer."
"Is your name still the same?"
"It’s Krang."
The man swept back his blonde hair and offered a formal greeting, extending his hand. It was a handshake—a gesture born from proving that neither party held a weapon. Encrid took his hand, shook it lightly, and let go.
Only then did Krais recognize him. Krais rarely forgot a face, but it had been a very long time since they met. It had been nothing more than a fleeting encounter; it was only because it was Krais that he remembered at all.
"The medical tent back then?" Krais asked reflexively.
"Indeed. You have an exceptionally sharp memory for a soldier," Krang replied, giving the Castellan a brief nod of acknowledgment.
"Who might you be?" Graham asked, awkwardly hoisting his large frame up.
Marcus answered, echoing Krang’s words. "A drifter, a wanderer, and to add one more thing... ahem." Marcus paused to take a sip of his tea, only to realize how terrible it tasted. He cleared his throat. "A bastard."
Marcus showed no intention of standing up. Seeing this, the Castellan stopped mid-rise and sat back down. Encrid and Krais sat as well. Krang naturally took a seat.
The Castellan didn't catch on, but at the word "bastard," Krais’s expression shifted slightly as the realization hit him.
Krang looked at everyone in turn and smiled warmly. It was the same sly yet remarkably approachable smile as before—one that made him seem easy to get along with. Encrid noticed a faint new scar on Krang’s cheek, but his expression remained unchanged.
"This winter has been exceptionally cold. Are you doing well?" Krang asked.
"When you’re rolling around in the dirt and fighting, you tend to forget the cold," Encrid replied.
"I heard you had a very heated winter."
"It seems you spent yours in a fairly warm place yourself?"
"I wanted nothing more than to spend my winters hugging thermal leather and my springs viewing flowers for the rest of my life," Krang said with a smile. Encrid found the man fascinating.
A bastard. But whose?
As mentioned, he was a bastard who could use a member of House Vaisar as a distraction. A bloodline capable of commanding a member of the House of the Thumb—one of the five families of the Centerpole.
"You are royalty," Krais supplied the answer.
The man didn't seem to have any intention of hiding it. The conversation had been structured to leave plenty of room for deduction. The mention of the cold winter referred to the battlefields Encrid had traversed. Conversely, Krang was saying that while he hadn't stood on a literal battlefield, he had been fighting a war of his own behind the scenes.
Krang merely smiled at Krais’s conclusion. Graham, meanwhile, began to wonder if he should even be in the room.
"Graham, do you have some good tea prepared in your office? Let’s go have a proper cup." Marcus rescued the Castellan.
"Yes, I do. It will be exactly to your liking." Graham had procured expensive tea leaves, hoping to offer them to Marcus, the man who had handed the position of Castellan over to him.
Led by Marcus, the others stood up, leaving only the Whip Guard behind.
"What is the meaning of this, Lord Marcus?" Graham whispered as they walked away.
"What does it look like to you?"
"It looks like something I should pretend not to know, even if I do."
"Then do exactly that."
Graham was a man who knew his place, and Marcus highly appreciated that. He was a man whose resolve would neither bend nor break, even with someone like Encrid under his command.
"Just serve the tea."
"Yes, let’s go."
Graham said no more and quickened his pace.
Even after Marcus, the guard, and Graham departed, Krais did not budge. Even if he left now, his captain wouldn't say anything foolish. Or rather, even if his captain said or did something strange, he wouldn't suddenly declare allegiance to one side.
But there was always a "what if."
With anxious thoughts swirling, Krais intended to stay and watch. From the moment he realized the man was a royal bastard, he was already weighing dozens of possibilities. Countermeasures for each scenario flashed through his mind.
What if the man demanded they serve under him immediately? What if he offered them entry into some absurd order of knights? What if he demanded absolute loyalty to the royal family? Or what if he showered them with piles of Krona?
Wait, wouldn't that last one actually be good?
If the Krona was sufficient, there was nothing wrong with selling their loyalty for a brief moment. What if it was enough Krona to open five salons in the capital?
No, focus.
Krais’s train of thought was as fast as Encrid’s sword and as multi-layered as Rem using multiple weapons simultaneously. The moment a dilemma arose, a conclusion was reached instantly.
Never trust the words of a politician.
The man had sat down here with Marcus backing him. He was someone who had brought a member of the House of the Thumb—one of the families supporting Naurilia—just to act as a distraction. The manner in which this royal had entered also made sense. His attire and behavior spoke of only one thing: he was traveling with his identity concealed.
Why hide it? Because he was being hunted.
If his life was in danger, he would covet Encrid’s sword, his strength, and everything he had built. How, then, should he view this man? If a civil war was on the horizon, was this bastard before them a pretender to the throne? Were a king of the frontier and a bastard king both aiming for the crown?
Which side should we take? Which would be more profitable?
For now, they had to remain neutral. That was the correct path. No matter what the king’s bastard offered, even if he presented a mountain of gold coins, they had to swallow their tears and refuse.
Wait, what if we take the down payment first and then play dumb?
Krais abandoned the temptation as quickly as it arose. There was no way his captain would ever agree to such a scheme. Without a single change in his expression, Krais organized his thoughts. He was now fully prepared to counter whatever the man might say.
"Did you know our kingdom has lost its language?"
It was a completely unexpected topic. The underlying motive was difficult to read. In fact, it wasn't even a question; Krang wasn't posing a riddle. He was simply continuing his speech smoothly. Krais thought that Krang’s voice was rather pleasant—a strange voice that commanded attention, ringing clearly in one’s ears.
His vocalization and pronunciation were impeccable. It was as if his voice possessed a magnetic quality that compelled others to listen. Krais had met people like this before.
A natural-born talent.
They were individuals who knew exactly how to capture another’s gaze. Their voice did it, and so did their every gesture.
Krang tapped the table lightly. "Why is the language spoken across the entire continent the same?"
Krais had lived by his wits since childhood. He used his brain for the sake of survival and Krona. Thus, he had never pondered such things. It was a concept he was hearing for the first time.
"The language is the same?" Encrid muttered.
"Yes, it is. It’s a bit stifling in here. Shall we walk? The sky is clear today. When you’re constantly plagued by threats of assassination, it feels like a waste to stay cooped up inside on a day like this."
Encrid stood up without a word. Assassins? That word was familiar to him now. Had he not faced such malice multiple times himself? In fact, the very first time he had encountered an assassin was because of Krang. In any case, if he was still being hunted, it meant someone desperately wanted this royal bastard dead.
"Have you never wondered how almost the entire continent speaks the same language?"
"Never."
"Indeed, most people don't. Then have you heard of the coalition that seeks to find the royal language?"
"In passing."
Encrid had seen a few people in the market carrying dictionary-like books instead of holy scriptures. Krais had seen them too. To borrow Gilpin’s words, they weren't the type to cause trouble; they simply kept to themselves.
Krang rose from his seat and walked outside. Just as he said, the weather was beautiful.
"It may be more dangerous outside," the guard warned.
"But it’s too stuffy in there."
Krang pulled a canteen from his waist and quenched his thirst. There was something to be gleaned from that action: he couldn't even eat or drink in peace. He likely consumed only what he had prepared himself, never touching food or water provided by others.
Encrid walked beside Krang, matching his pace.
"Don't get too close," the guard warned.
"Back down," Krang silenced him. "Are you coming?" Krang asked Krais.
Krais glanced at his captain for a moment.
"Come along," Encrid said.
"Yes, Captain." Krais made it absolutely clear whose orders he followed before falling in behind them.
"Don't worry so much, soldier. I didn't come here to force anything on you," Krang said, his eyes crinkling. It was a gentle smile that suited him remarkably well.
If he hadn't come for his captain, then why was he here?
"I’m just here for a visit," Krang said, his smile unchanging.
Encrid remained silent, while Krais nodded outwardly while growing even more suspicious internally. A royal bastard, a key player in a civil war... As if a guy like him would ever visit just to 'enjoy himself.'
Yet, as if to stay true to his words, Krang acted accordingly. He did nothing but chatter as they walked through the barracks, keeping the training ground to their right. Furthermore, he didn't utter a single word asking them to take his side.
"It’s because of the Empire. The Empire buried the royal language. They erased it."
"Unifying the language has been hailed as a great achievement," Krais pointed out. The Empire’s unification of language was praised as a monumental feat. That was true. But to do so, they should have also respected the royal language.
"What is language, soldier?"
"Language is... well, language is... hmm." Though brief, deep contemplation was Krais’s specialty. His mind operated on a different plane. "Culture. A part of culture has vanished."
"Exactly, soldier." Krang smiled warmly. Looking at that smile, Krais thought that if this guy weren't royalty, he would have made an excellent host at a salon.
The royal language had been buried by the tyranny of the Empire. The reason? To tighten their grip. Then why did the Empire do that? Did they intend to unify the entire continent? No, it was to reap benefits from the sidelines while watching the kingdoms tear each other apart. It was for some other gain, rather than outright conquest.
Erasing the language was a way to manipulate the kingdoms through control. From a political standpoint, it was a brilliant move.
"It’s a headache."
Listening to Krang speak, Krais felt a sense of dissonance. This meant the man was painting a picture of the future, taking it as a given that he would become king. He had already designated the Empire as his enemy. Krang was certain of his victory; he took it for granted that he would inherit the throne.
"Count Molsen is quite formidable, you know?" Encrid cut straight to the heart of the matter, asking if Krang was worried.
"Well, things will work out somehow."
Do you not have a plan?
"'Somehow'?" Krais asked, dumbfounded.
Krang stopped walking. He raised a palm behind him, and Encrid, the guard, and Krais halted. Krang took a single step forward, putting a distance of two paces between himself and the group.
"The kingdoms fight amongst themselves, and there are those who wish to be king. The continent is overrun with monsters and demonic beasts. Within the royal family, the voices of the nobles rise above the Queen’s head, yet there are not enough hands to discipline them. Those called knights can barely manage to seal the rifts of the Demon Realm. And those who have abandoned their loyalty for their own greed are scattered everywhere."
His voice drifted through the foliage beside the barracks. It pierced the ears of the three who had stopped. It felt as if a spotlight had gathered on a dark stage, illuminating him alone. It was a magnetic presence that drew in all surrounding attention. Krang had achieved this with just a few steps and a handful of words.
Having captivated his audience, Krang spoke once more.
"My job is to make sure things do not remain that way."