Chapter 350: The Knight Who Chooses the King
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 350: The Knight Who Chooses the King
The wind and rain raged for another day, finally relenting just as the group was growing thoroughly sick of it. It had been a tedious, relentless downpour.
"Let's take a break," Encrid said shortly after the rain stopped.
Water dripped from his gear, but far off in the sky, a faint hint of sunlight peeked through the heavy clouds. Even that meager light would soon sink into the west. The gloomy twilight was about to give way to true, pitch-black darkness.
"Sounds like a plan," Rem agreed with a nod.
The Mad Independent Platoon wasn't the issue, and Krang was holding up well, but the horses were reaching their limit. They still had at least ten more days of riding ahead of them; they couldn't afford to let the mounts collapse from exhaustion this early.
Above all, if they didn't do something about their soaked clothes, they would fall ill. If even one person started coughing, it would become a massive headache for the entire march. The same went for the horses. Because of the storm, they had barely slept, doing nothing but pushing forward.
"You're going to spend the time we bought on this?" the Whip Guard muttered, almost to himself.
They had bought themselves a lead by slaughtering every bastard sent to kill them. Shouldn't they be moving now, slipping far outside the enemy's expected search range?
Encrid simply nodded in response. Yes, I'm spending it here.
That was what his silent nod conveyed. The Whip Guard said nothing more. What could he even say? His sole duty was to focus on protecting his lord. Besides, it wasn't as if Encrid would listen even if he argued.
He knows what he's doing.
A strange sense of trust, bordering on respect, had begun to take root in the guard's mind.
"Rem, let's build a fire."
"Don't you think you have a habit of dumping all the annoying chores on me?"
"Do I? Should I send Ragna instead, then?"
If they sent Ragna to fetch dry wood, they probably wouldn't see him again until this time next year.
"Never mind," Rem grumbled, waving his hand dismissively.
"Dunchabel, go with him." Encrid assigned him a helper.
"...Fine," Dunchabel muttered, her reluctance written all over her face as she joined Rem.
Seeing her expression, Rem barked, "You wanna die?"
"I want to live. No one wants to die."
The banter between Rem and Dunchabel gradually faded into the distance. It was just idle bickering. The two veered off the main road and headed into the forest.
Meanwhile, Encrid dug a pit with Sachsen and Ragna. Odd-Eye, who had been tagging along soaked to the bone, helped them.
"Quite a handy fellow," Krang remarked, watching them.
Odd-Eye was kicking the ground with his paws, easily scooping out dirt to make a hole. Encrid then placed a flat stone over the pit.
Even though the rain had poured relentlessly, their baggage—wrapped in oiled cloth and leather—remained dry. However, they didn't carry any proper cooking utensils. Instead, they had salt and seasoned jerky. Encrid pulled them out. The flat stone would serve as an excellent griddle to grill the meat.
Despite the storm, Rem and Dunchabel managed to bring back branches that weren't completely soaked. Encrid personally split the damp wood to make kindling, then pulled a flint from his pack to strike a spark.
With a sharp clack-clack of stone hitting stone, a small flame soon caught. He blew gently on it, coaxing the fire to grow, before tossing in a few more branches. If it weren't for the rain, they would have built a much larger fire, but this was the best they could do for now.
"Let's dry our clothes."
Aside from Esther, Dunchabel was the only female in the group, but she could cover her entire body with fur when she transformed. This meant she had no qualms about stripping down, regardless of who was watching. Then again, it was silly to expect a beastman to feel embarrassed about nudity in the first place.
"It's not about you. It's an eyesore for everyone else. Cover up," Encrid said, trying to teach Dunchabel some basic manners.
"Is it an eyesore because I'm too attractive?"
"Pfft."
At that, the panther snorted. Dunchabel shrugged it off without a care.
Encrid found the dynamic fascinating. He realized once again that Esther got along well with everyone in the platoon. In fact, they were on remarkably good terms.
Why? Was there a particular reason?
Yes. It was because of how they treated her. They didn't ostracize Esther just because she was a mage. The world's perception of witches meant nothing to this group.
To Rem, who practiced shamanism, she was practically a kindred spirit. Though their methods and capabilities were entirely different, they shared a sense of camaraderie. That was why Rem was so friendly toward her. Ragna didn't care whether Esther was a mage or a shaman. Audin would have denounced her as a heretic in the past, but not anymore; having opened his eyes to a wider world through Encrid, he now respected Esther, even calling her "sister."
Teresa, of course, went without saying. She had seen plenty of mages among the cultists. Compared to them, Esther was practically a social butterfly.
Dunchabel felt similarly. Esther didn't cause her any trouble, and she was pretty—though Dunchabel occasionally disliked how Esther tried to monopolize the Captain. Aside from that, Dunchabel quite liked Esther's long hair. It felt incredibly soft to the touch. Even Esther, usually so aloof, let Dunchabel play with her hair.
There was no fear in their eyes, nor was there any prying curiosity. Everyone simply recognized and respected her as an individual. How could she possibly dislike them?
Am I actually thinking well of people?
It was a rare sentiment for Esther, but she took it as a positive sign. Mages, after all, existed to pursue knowledge and exploration. To Esther, even this very moment was worthy of study. How would these relationships affect her magic? It was certainly worth researching.
"Esther, dry your fur too," Encrid said.
At his words, Esther quietly took a spot by the campfire. Everyone stripped down to dry their clothes. They wore only their undergarments, letting the thin fabric dry directly on their skin.
Their journey would take a month at most, yet on the very first day, they had already been ambushed by a band of thirty assassins. It was hardly an auspicious start, but...
"Anyone up for a drink?" Rem asked, looking around for alcohol.
Sachsen had already pulled out a flask and was taking a sip. Encrid was in the middle of asking if he had any intention of sharing. None of them seemed to have a single worry in the world.
"Is there any alcohol?" Krang asked, caught up in the relaxed atmosphere.
The Whip Guard shook his head. Alcohol? He found it baffling that they could even think of leisurely enjoying a drink in a place like this.
Sachsen handed a small flask to Encrid. Encrid took a sip and nodded.
"Apple wine."
"I met a master brewmaster where I went," Sachsen noted.
"Excellent," Encrid praised.
"You keeping it all to yourself?" Rem marched over to Sachsen and boldly held out his hand.
Without even getting up, Sachsen drew his dagger and slashed. Rem quickly pulled his hand back, narrowly avoiding the blade.
"What the hell are you doing?"
"Weren't you holding out your hand to have your wrist chopped off?"
"Captain, can I kill this stray cat?" Rem grumbled.
Encrid took another sip of the apple wine, watching the two bicker. Then, he corked the flask and tossed it. Rem caught it out of the air. Sachsen didn't object to the Captain sharing his drink, and with that, the squabble was over. Having cooled off, the two turned away, pretending the other didn't exist.
Rem stopped grumbling as well. "Hey, let's share," he said, walking over to Dunchabel instead.
Dunchabel, bypassing the alcohol, was busy gently grilling the seasoned jerky on the flat stone.
"Mmm, delicious."
The special seasoning kept the jerky tender. Dunchabel decided this was the best food she had ever eaten while camping. Encrid shared her sentiment as he ate. Krang also took a bite and nodded in deep agreement. He felt that if he ever became king, he would bestow an award upon whoever made this jerky.
Watching the storm clear, Ragna was reminded of the past. Back then, a storm had raged just like this. The sheets of rain had been so thick he couldn't see an inch ahead. The heavy drops had pelted his body so hard they felt like they would leave bruises.
Recalling a moment from his past, Ragna turned his head toward the land where he was born and raised. He looked up at the stars to gauge his bearings, then gazed toward the north.
"What are you doing?" Encrid asked, walking over. Ragna's demeanor seemed unusually solemn.
Ragna answered honestly. "I am looking north."
Toward the place where his family and his lands once were. Toward the north, where his people lived. Was this longing, regret, or perhaps hatred? Staring in the direction of his homeland, he felt as if he could almost sense their presence lingering just beyond the horizon.
"That's south," Encrid said.
Ragna silently turned his head away. So much for his trip down memory lane. Having marched through the wind and rain, he was hungry. It was time to fill his stomach.
"Seriously, don't ever go to relieve yourself alone," Rem chimed in, having witnessed the exchange. Ragna pretended not to hear.
As the night deepened, it was time for everyone to sleep.
"Sachsen, you're up first," Encrid said, setting the schedule for the night watch.
The rotation would go from Sachsen to the Whip Guard, then Rem, Encrid, and finally Ragna. Even if the enemy tried to play tricks with spells, they would be fine. Esther's eyes were shining with vigilance, and...
Purr, purr, purr.
Before he knew it, the panther had fallen asleep by Encrid's side. Encrid pulled the beast into his arms. If any trouble arose, she would wake up on her own.
Krang watched them and spoke. "A mage who transforms into a panther. Fascinating."
The Whip Guard still flinched occasionally whenever he looked at Esther. First, he had been shocked by her transformation, and then he had been startled by her beauty. Yet, despite his reactions, his resolve didn't seem to waver.
Not bad.
He was a man who stood by Krang's side. Naturally, he was a decent person. Although the Whip Guard seemed uneasy about stopping to rest, he didn't voice his concerns. Was it because he had suddenly developed an overwhelming trust in Encrid? Perhaps witnessing a single battle had played a part, but it was more about respect. Encrid had proven his capabilities. And since his lord respected Encrid, he followed suit.
Amidst these idle thoughts, Krang's question reached Encrid's ears.
"What is it like, trying to become a knight?"
"It's fun."
"Fun?"
To a question asking if it was alright, the answer was "fun." Encrid nodded.
Their clothes were hanging to dry on branches driven into the ground. Sachsen poked at the campfire with a long stick. With a sharp crackle, the damp wood burned, throwing off sparks. The stray embers drifted into the air and vanished. The disappearing sparks, the rising flames, and the cozy warmth that spread as their damp bodies dried—it was a moment of peace.
Krang and Encrid sat facing each other across the campfire. Beyond the comforting flames, Krang's eyes reflected the red glow of the fire. Encrid looked him straight in the eye.
Krang returned his gaze. Maintaining eye contact, Krang spoke.
"Why are you helping me?"
Encrid had been the first to call him a friend, looking him in the eye and sharing his dream. Yet, nowhere in those words had there been any mention of helping him. Krang asked with absolute sincerity. As he spoke with deliberate intent, a powerful aura emanated from him.
It felt as though his words carried a compelling force. Was this what the Dragonkin's Word of Power felt like? Did he have Dragonkin blood flowing through his veins from some distant ancestor? It was a pressure that demanded an answer, an oppression exerted simply by speaking.
Fascinating.
Encrid felt a sensation similar to when he was subjected to Intimidation. Even so, his Will of Rejection did not activate. This wasn't a technique based on actual Will. More than anything, Encrid was not one to be cowed by Krang's presence.
"Someone told me you're too valuable to die here," Encrid replied calmly.
"Even if you didn't help, I wouldn't die," Krang said without a moment's hesitation.
What supreme confidence. Yet, Encrid didn't feel inclined to deny it. Even if it meant taking a detour, Krang would have found a way to survive. If he lacked even that much foresight, he wouldn't have survived this long.
Encrid had pondered this before helping Krang, after deciding to help him, and on the night after he had told Krais of his decision.
Why am I helping him?
Was it because he wanted to fight? Because staying by Krang's side meant assassins and all sorts of foes would come rushing at them? Fighting spirit was indeed a core part of who Encrid was. That was true. But that wasn't all. There was something more fundamental, something deep within him that made him step forward so readily.
It was because he wanted to become a knight. A knight is one who protects. Then, what must he protect? He protects those who stand behind him. Then, who would he allow to stand behind him?
Encrid did not serve Krang. He had made no such oath. However... he knew all too well that Krang was not someone unworthy of protection right now.
"Whether you are worth protecting..."
Encrid did not yield to the oppressive aura. He overcame it effortlessly.
"...I don't know yet."
He finished his sentence. He helped because he didn't know. He lent a hand because he didn't know. Would protecting him once change much? He didn't know. Only time would tell. That was his sole reason for helping. He was helping to find out.
Across the campfire, Krang laughed again. Instead of his usual boisterous laughter, it was a deep, meaningful smile. Encrid remained stoic.
"A knight who chooses his king."
Neither of them was a king or a knight yet.
"To be chosen by such a man... that would indeed be the true beginning of my royal path."
The Whip Guard frowned upon hearing Encrid's words, but his expression quickly returned to normal. Seeing his lord speak, he could tell there was not a single shred of hesitation or discomfort in Krang's heart. He was speaking with absolute sincerity.
"And besides, I want to go out of my way to do things that Count Molsen would hate," Encrid added, voicing his petty desire for revenge. He hadn't forgotten how the Count had played dirty tricks instead of sending reinforcements.
"That Count Molsen?"
"Yes. He is a man like a wild dog's cock."
Encrid delivered the vulgar insult with a remarkably refined tone. It was a talent in its own right. This time, Krang let out a genuine chuckle.
"A wild dog's cock."
He thought it was a wonderfully fitting description.
The late-night conversation was nothing more than a brief interlude. Rem, Ragna, Sachsen, and Dunchabel remarked that watching the two talk had been quite entertaining, but that was the extent of it.
The next day, Krang's escort party set off once more, and this time, they encountered a horde of monsters.
Screeech!
Starting with a pack of Human-faced Dogs, it was a veritable gift set of various monsters.