Chapter 361: Where Are the Knights?
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 361: Where Are the Knights?
"Do you think they'll try poison or some other trick?"
Encrid asked the question the following morning, as soon as the first light of dawn broke.
Sachsen shook his head. He had returned to his usual self—indifferent, bored, and preternaturally calm. However, a faint trace of murderous intent leaked through his tone.
"They won't try the same thing twice."
The voice in which Sachsen spat those words was like a shard of ice pulled from a glacier. It was freezing, laced with a sneer directed at those who had dared to play their petty tricks while he was away.
Of course, that cold, murderous smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared. He returned to his haughty, detached expression, looking as if he wouldn't even bat an eye if someone pricked him with a needle.
"You mean you'll make sure they can't, right?" Encrid asked.
Sachsen gave a nonchalant nod.
That was enough, then.
Just as he said, nothing happened for the rest of the day. The bastards who had shown up to deliver a "warning" were nowhere to be seen.
Would they really stay away after just one day?
No, even if two or three days pass, they probably won't be able to return.
If they had specifically chosen to strike when Sachsen was away, they certainly wouldn't show their faces now that the group was gathered.
Encrid spent another day in focused preparation. He trained and practiced without a single idle thought, putting Andrew and the five trainees through their paces.
"Have mercy..." one of the trainees muttered under his breath, his voice cracking.
"Indeed. A single swing of your sword today will save your life tomorrow."
Encrid replied to the trainee's lament with absolute sincerity, earning a round of applause from Dunchabel.
"A quote to live by," she remarked.
"It's not a quote to live by; it's a declaration that he’s ignoring the whining. You stupid beastman," Rem chided from the side.
Their conversation was only faintly audible to Encrid. The trainees likely couldn't hear it at all. Rem had probably lowered his voice on purpose, knowing exactly why Encrid gave such a cold answer.
Begging for mercy at just this level? I can push them harder.
Encrid wanted them to channel even the energy they used for speaking into their swords. Beyond fulfilling their desires and ambitions, his goal was simple: to ensure they wouldn't die if he could help it.
As far as Encrid could see, the Gardner family's entire force consisted of a mere seven people: Andrew, Mac, and the five trainees. Though Andrew was somewhat useful among them...
To think 'somewhat useful' is the standard in a situation like this.
If things went south, they would simply die. Since Andrew was a familiar face, Encrid had no desire to stand by and watch him get slaughtered. Yet, he couldn't follow them around like a shadow to protect them forever.
The best option was for them to protect themselves. Since that was the ultimate goal of this training, it was only right to subject them to a brutal regimen. In times like this, it was much easier to act like an unyielding wall—someone who didn't understand their pain—rather than acknowledging their complaints.
People only try to strike up a conversation when they think they can get through to you. When dealing with someone completely unresponsive, they don't even bother. They just busy themselves with the task at hand.
That was exactly what Encrid wanted: for them to focus like madmen and struggle with everything they had. Having climbed up from the very bottom himself, he knew exactly what kind of mindset they needed.
"Ugh..."
The trainee despaired, and Encrid felt a grim satisfaction.
Watching this, Ragna nodded. Always giving his all.
He was the exact same captain Ragna had always known. It was satisfying to see. That sight sparked his own motivation once again.
The sword.
Ragna quickly slipped back into his own world of meditation and steel.
Sachsen remained silent as he watched the scene. Over the past two days, the only words he had spoken were his assurance that the enemy wouldn't return. No one else tried to talk to him either. Even Andrew found Sachsen difficult to approach, and to Mac, Sachsen was naturally someone to be avoided.
The five trainees were too busy trying to survive. Rem and Ragna didn't bother him either; everyone had their own tasks. Whenever Encrid stepped away, Rem would occasionally fill in.
"If you can land even a single hit on me, you get a break."
It was a different kind of hell for the five trainees, and Rem thoroughly enjoyed it.
Off to one side, Ragna swung his sword, lost in contemplation. Hearing him occasionally mutter to himself—"Light, fast, heavy..."—made it clear he was deeply investigating the way of the sword.
Amidst all this, Sachsen lost himself in silent thought. At first, his mind was on his own affairs.
Is this a game of tag?
He had managed to identify the target of his revenge based solely on the evidence gathered so far. However, identifying them didn't mean he could easily find them. That was the hard part. He needed to gather more information. He had to uncover and dig deeper.
Behind these practical concerns, a more fundamental question reared its head.
Is this right?
The path he had chosen was not one that would "help." What was the right path? What was the answer? Why was he dedicating his entire life to revenge? If revenge was his goal, was this really the way to go about it?
"Thrust."
Encrid's words lingered in his mind.
Encrid, his forearms wrapped tightly in bandages, entered Sachsen's field of vision. With the weather growing warmer by the day, sleeves were getting shorter. Though the wound had been left to heal on its own rather than being properly treated, it had closed up without festering.
It was a mark left by Sachsen's own stiletto.
"Why are you agonizing over it? Find the reason first. Think about the why," his master had once said.
Sachsen had done exactly as told. The reason for his agony lay in his heart. It was because his heart was wavering, unable to find its bearings.
To be ignorant is to be led; to know is to lead oneself. Even if you find the why, you don't necessarily have to produce an immediate answer. There are many paths.
Sachsen, too, chose one of them. Instead of trying to force his heart into submission, he let it run wild. Instead of agonizing over whether "this is okay," he simply did it. He acted. He moved. He executed. He took steps toward the result.
This was Encrid's mindset. It was what Sachsen had observed and learned from him. Once again, he caught a glimpse of the sheer greatness of the man before him.
He doesn't give up just because he lacks talent.
Instead of agonizing, Encrid devised a plan. If his head couldn't figure it out, he used his body. While using his body, he also racked his brain. He did whatever it took. It was a desperate, beautiful struggle.
“You can't do it. With that kind of skill, what do you think you're...”
Encrid didn't let his heart waver, even when surrounded by criticism and ridicule. He simply moved forward.
The complexity in Sachsen's mind was instantly replaced by simplicity. The tangled skein of thread unraveled and straightened out. In other words, he would do as his heart pleased for now.
*
Later, Rem, claiming he was bored, tormented the five trainees even more. Dunchabel took the two curved swords from Encrid and swung them for hours, trying to get used to the weight. Later, she even transformed into her beast form and challenged Ragna to a spar, only to get thoroughly beaten.
Ragna spent his time swinging his sword in brief bursts or lying on his cot or the grass next to the training ground. Unless someone challenged him to a spar, he looked quite leisurely.
Sachsen sometimes went out of the mansion with Encrid, though he also went out alone quite often. When the two of them went out together, it was usually to attend parties. Encrid accompanied Andrew, acting as his guard.
On rare occasions, he ran into people he knew. The capital was so crowded right now, with everyone sniffing around for a position, that such encounters were bound to happen.
"You..."
"It's been a while," the other person reacted.
It was the instructor who had taught Encrid swordsmanship when he had previously visited the capital. Though he wasn't a particularly decent human being...
Is he a proper noble's guard now?
Encrid judged this based on the clothes the man wore, the weapon he carried, and the people surrounding him.
"Were you really that Encrid?" the former bullshit-spewing instructor said.
Back then, Encrid had thought the man's skills were quite decent, but what about now? Encrid simply nodded as he thought.
"What a load of nonsense," the man muttered, whispering to his companions. From what Encrid could catch, they were calling him a fraud.
He ignored them. Beside him, Andrew's brow furrowed.
"Should I let them be?" Andrew looked ready to step forward himself.
"Leave them," Encrid said, thinking there was no need to pick a fight.
The bullshit-spewing instructor smirked at Encrid. It was a smile that seemed to reek of raw fish—utterly oily and unpleasant.
"Yeah, right. See you around."
Chuckling among his companions, the bastard walked away. The instructor wasn't even the leader of their group. Was there anyone particularly noteworthy among them? It didn't seem like it.
Encrid ignored them. It was just a passing occurrence.
Only after attending a few parties was Encrid finally able to meet Krang. Krang mentioned that even slipping out of the royal palace was difficult.
"Everyone looks ready to draw their swords at any moment."
"Count Molsen?" Encrid asked. He didn't know the inner workings of the royal palace; he had simply named the most prominent figure.
It was the wrong answer.
At his words, Krang smiled and replied, "In truth, the one holding a blade to our throats right now isn't a noble from the frontier, but someone inside the palace."
Though Encrid hadn't asked who, Krang readily continued.
"A fellow named Viscount Mernes."
From what Krang gathered, he was a man who had united the factions within the palace to build a single, powerful force. Judging by his rivalry with Viscount Vantra, he was harboring ambitions separate from Count Molsen's.
"He's a highly troublesome fellow. He's one of the Five Fingers."
Krang spoke as he rested his palms on the bench, leaning back to look up at the sky. Why did he look so carefree despite his words?
The "Five Fingers" supporting the royal palace referred to five specific families.
The Thumb was Marquis Vaisar of the House of the Thumb.
The Index Finger was the Lakhon family, who had served in the military for generations.
The Middle Finger, representing the ruler of the frontier, belonged to Count Molsen.
The Ring Finger had managed the kingdom's finances for generations; currently, he was known as the Marquis of Okto.
The final Pinky Finger, the family that guarded the royal palace, was nameless.
And currently, among these five families, not a single one supported the Queen. All of them were too busy looking out for their own interests.
Krang didn't explain all of this in detail. There was no need to. He glanced at Encrid's eyes. It seemed Encrid wasn't particularly curious about the political structure right now.
Then what was he curious about that brought him here?
At first, attention had been drawn to Andrew, who attended the parties as an uninvited guest. But later, the rumors shifted toward the guard accompanying him.
The hero born of the Border Guard. In reality, a man whose reputation was built on bloated, false prestige.
Was it said that someone who knew Encrid's past was constantly blabbing about it? The rumor was that he originally possessed terrible skills and lived off a hollow reputation, riding on the coattails of his subordinates.
Is it because they can't accept what they haven't seen with their own eyes?
Was that arrogance? Or was it conceit? Or was it to protect the prestige they themselves had built up over the years?
None of the above.
Krang viewed all of them as idiots. If they couldn't believe his reputation, they could have tested him under the guise of goodwill. If they didn't want to do that, it would have been wiser to just watch and wait. Yet, a few foolish and ignorant nobles were too busy belittling and running Encrid down.
Are they lacking in intelligence?
How did people with such brains manage to become palace officials? One of those busy running him down was the palace sheriff. He was the superior of all guard captains and the one in charge of the palace guard.
Should I be happy about this?
Should Krang rejoice that his presumed enemy was an idiot, or should he lament that the palace he had to govern was filled with nothing but fools? Or should he blame the Queen for leading such a country? Or perhaps he should feel pity for her. After all, she wasn't the one who had caused all of this.
Of course, Encrid's skills weren't the only reason he drew attention.
"I'd love to see his face just once."
"I heard he's incredibly handsome."
"They say he's a feast for the eyes."
Such was the curiosity of the noblewomen. Rumor had it that the two men who came as Andrew's guards had completely captivated everyone, from the gates to the ballroom. Naturally, those two were Encrid and Sachsen.
This was likely why the noble lords, blinded by jealousy, were busy whispering criticisms behind Encrid's back. Throughout history, had there ever been a motive as powerful as jealousy? In fact, some of the nobles were itching to kill Encrid. The sheriff included.
If Encrid were to draw his sword in the city, wouldn't the security forces deploy immediately?
Krang spoke as he pondered. "Viscount Mernes is the son-in-law of Marquis Vaisar and hails from the Lakhon family."
He was a man backed by the most powerful sponsor in the current palace, and he had even brought private soldiers into the capital. He had even brought a portion of the Royal Guard under his command. Since entering the capital, he had rapidly expanded his influence, eventually uniting all the surrounding factions.
In terms of danger in the current situation, he was twice as dangerous as Count Molsen.
"There are even rumors that he has gathered and stationed a battalion-sized private army just outside the capital. So, what is it you're curious about?"
Krang stopped mid-sentence to ask. Encrid must have come here with a purpose.
Encrid had many questions, but what he truly wanted to know boiled down to just one. This single question would resolve many of his doubts. Thus, Encrid asked about those he had expected to see—those who naturally should have been here.
"Where are all the knights?"
If there were even a single knight in the palace...
If they had been by the Queen's side, could that fellow—Mernes or whatever his name was—really run amok like this?
A band of assassins had delivered a warning in broad daylight. The howling of beasts echoed in the dead of night, and ghost stories circulated through the capital day after day.
If there were knights, if the order of knights were active, such things could not and should not happen.
Therefore, this was the core question that pierced through everything.