Chapter 363: An Unreasonable Demand
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 363: An Unreasonable Demand
"Carry on with what you were doing."
The Marquis spoke as he took a seat, his two guards standing behind him like statues.
Their murderous aura had lasted only a fleeting moment. The two guards did not smile, nor did they show any signs of discontent. They were utterly indifferent, as if simply performing a routine task.
Ragna noted that the posture of the two guards was exceptional. They were neither stiff nor arrogant; they looked like men who knew exactly how to exert the perfect amount of force at the precise moment it was needed. That much was obvious to him.
While Ragna observed their posture, Rem read their aura. Their murderous edge existed only because they were in a dangerous place, not because they were displeased. Or so it seemed.
Therefore, Rem concluded there was no reason to fight the guards. Next, he looked at the Marquis. He looked like an old man with far too much time on his hands.
Does he really have nothing better to do?
Rem didn't voice the thought. Since the Marquis had come to see Encrid, it wasn't Rem's place to intervene. He couldn't help but chuckle dryly at the realization that he had even considered it "not his place."
Is this right?
Was it awkward all of a sudden? No. It felt so natural that he only found it strange upon reflection. Respecting the man because he was Encrid's guest? Rem realized that, without even noticing, he had begun to follow Encrid’s lead. Not that he minded. He had simply started to follow him naturally before the thought had even crossed his mind.
Esther sensed a faint magical energy emanating from the visitor but concluded there was no mage present.
An artifact.
A mage's innate curiosity reared its head, but she easily suppressed it. If she acted on her own whims, it would only cause trouble for Encrid.
Whoosh.
Right beside her, Encrid was powerfully driving his halberd downward. Without even replying to the Marquis, he did exactly as he was told. He continued his training.
"What's the point of keeping your balance if you lack the power to actually drive the strike home?" Rem offered advice as he took a step back. The axe hanging from his waist swung, tapping against his thigh. One of the guards glanced over, but they only sized each other up without speaking, preventing the tension from escalating into a confrontation.
Rem focused entirely on Encrid.
"Then what?"
"Your foot."
He meant for Encrid to step forward with his left foot and shift his center of gravity more aggressively.
But wouldn't that throw me off balance?
Where did you sell off your Heart of Monstrous Strength?
Rem hadn't said it aloud, but that was exactly what he would have snapped if Encrid asked "why" again.
Encrid quickly gained a small realization through this brief exchange.
If I have physical strength that surpasses limits, I can use it to anchor the attack.
Strength beyond limits—monstrous power. Believing that only he was capable of this would be arrogant. He had to assume his opponents could do it too.
What Rem was teaching was a technique called Giant Cleaving. Though the name suggested a simple strike, it was actually a sophisticated method of dealing with weapons swung with giant-level physical strength. It was Rem's original technique and training method—and a recently created one at that.
Turning unique experiences into techniques. Hadn't Encrid already demonstrated this right before his eyes? The technique known as Capturing Sword was a joy just to watch. Rem was doing the same: laying down experience as the foundation and materializing what was gained from it, then systematically establishing steps and sequences so the body could internalize the "result."
He only needed to test it on Encrid. Rem, too, learned and developed the style further while teaching it. Encrid also knew what Rem was doing. He realized once again that even this brain-damaged fellow was a genius. Not that it changed anything; it was just a fact. Since learning and mastering the skill was so exciting, he had no time to care whether the man was a genius or not.
Therefore, he simply learned, mastered, trained, and repeated with absolute sincerity and devotion. Rem was simply delighted to watch him.
"Stronger," Rem said, and Encrid moved his body accordingly.
To withstand a giant's attack, one must know what a giant is capable of. Physical strength that surpasses limits is called monstrous strength. What can someone with such monstrous strength truly achieve?
The Marquis found it fascinating that someone could train so seriously right in front of him.
Sachsen stared quietly at the Marquis. He simply watched, devoid of any killing intent, aura, or presence. Sachsen thought there was a high probability that the leader of the Black Sword was one of the nobles.
But surely not someone of the Marquis of Okto's caliber.
If he held that kind of position, wouldn't the leader of the Black Sword have made a more overt move? Excluding Count Molsen, the Marquis was practically the most powerful figure inside and outside the royal palace. This was a known fact, as the investigation into the power struggles within the palace had already been completed.
It's not him.
The man possessed an elegance that could only emanate from one born and raised as a high noble. The Marquis could not be the leader of the Black Sword. Since the head of that organization had entered the royal palace as a bandit leader, he wouldn't have been able to completely discard his past habits.
While he was observing the Marquis, one of the guards looked directly at Sachsen.
Detecting him even though he hadn't let slip a single trace of his presence? They must have some means of their own—not of the same discipline as his. Then again, only with experts of that caliber could a high noble escape the constant threat of assassination. After all, everyone currently holding a significant position in the capital was essentially living with a target on their back.
Is it Will?
If they hadn't mastered Sensory Techniques and didn't smell like his own kind, yet still caught his gaze, it could only be Will. There were ways to conceal himself further, but it was pointless right now. Sachsen averted his gaze.
Amidst the strange tension that flowed despite not escalating into a fight, the Marquis spoke.
"Will you not even offer me a cup of tea, Baronet Gardner?"
"Pardon? Ah, yes, of course!"
Sweating, Andrew quickly ordered tea and refreshments to be prepared. There were only a few servants in the mansion. A maid recognized the Marquis of Okto and approached with trembling hands.
To the young maid, the high noble before her was worlds apart from Andrew. Andrew might harm her if things went wrong, but he was the master she saw every day. She was used to him, and she knew Andrew wasn't that kind of person.
But the man sitting there now was a high noble. Literally, with a single gesture or word, he could throw her life and her family into the abyss. The fact that his status was higher than Andrew's meant her master would not be able to protect her. Though she didn't fully comprehend the politics, the maid was instinctively terrified.
Shaking violently, the maid ultimately spilled the tea. The liquid that should have filled the cup trickled down the side, ran across the table, and dripped onto the Marquis's lap.
The Marquis calmly stood up and moved to the adjacent chair. Unable to utter a word, her face pale as death, the maid trembled violently before falling to her knees.
"P-Please... forgive me..."
Encrid had just finished his training set.
"Your hands are clumsy," the Marquis said.
Mac brought over a handkerchief on behalf of the panicked maid, but the guard was faster. He immediately pulled a clean handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped the moisture from the Marquis's lap.
Encrid's gaze fell upon the Marquis. Without paying any mind to the eyes on him, the Marquis spoke.
"Baronet Gardner."
"Yes."
"You would do well to pay more attention to the training of your maids."
"...Yes."
Mac cleaned up the table in the meantime. The maid did nothing but tremble throughout. Andrew sent her inside, and she headed into the mansion on shaking legs. It was a wonder she managed to walk without collapsing.
When Andrew poured the tea himself, the Marquis nodded. He didn't display any particular benevolence, nor did he scold harshly. The Marquis lifted his cup and took a sip, and Kin Vaisar silently sat beside him.
"May I also have a cup?" Kin asked.
"Would you mind?" the Marquis of Okto chimed in, supporting Kin Vaisar's request. There was no question of refusing.
"Of course," Andrew nodded.
Meanwhile, Encrid strode over and sat across from them at the table. The minor commotion was over. Encrid did not show excessive politeness, nor did he display any rudeness. He simply sat. His attitude was ordinary. Watching this, the Marquis brought the teacup to his lips. The steaming tea moistened his lips.
"What do you think would have happened if I had comforted the maid just now?" the Marquis asked, holding his teacup. There was a smile on his lips, but his eyes remained cold.
Encrid found it difficult to read what kind of person the Marquis was. He had met all kinds of people, but someone like this was not easy to grasp. If Krang was like a solitary, shining sun, the Marquis was like a waterway—a waterway whose flow and changes were entirely unpredictable.
"It would have been one of two things. Either relief or anxiety," Encrid said, wiping his sweat with his forearm and resting his hands on the table.
"Oh? Why anxiety?"
"She might worry that you were comforting her on the surface only to harm her behind her back."
"Are you saying that maid views the world through such a dark lens?"
"Or, if she were to tell someone about this later, they might say, 'You spilled tea on him and he comforted you instead? You'd better watch your back.' Something like that."
Encrid conjured up an imaginary older sister figure for the maid. Though it was a simple analogy, his point was clear enough. After all, old nobles who pretended to be fine on the outside while coveting the bodies of their maids behind closed doors were a dime a dozen.
Therefore, rather than comforting her, it was better to act moderately displeased. Once this incident passed, the maid would actually feel relieved because she would feel she had paid the price for her mistake. The Marquis had not gotten angry, but he had blamed her clumsy hands. That was all.
"You are quite thoughtful."
"I am often told I do not act like a noble."
"...Is that so?"
Kin Vaisar almost spat out her tea at the Marquis's words. Of course, instead of spitting it out, she merely tightened her grip on her teacup. What on earth was the man hailed as the "noble among nobles" saying?
Here, saying he didn't act like a noble was closer to a play on words. Could someone who flew into a rage over a maid's single mistake truly be called a noble?
"Why did you come here?"
"Why do you ask?"
To counter-question when the Marquis himself was asking—Kin Vaisar's heart thudded. Her gaze naturally drifted toward Encrid.
"Because I wish to know what kind of person you are. Will you answer me?"
How on earth would he answer? Kin knew how Encrid had ended up here. She could also roughly guess why he had come. In a way, his answer was already set. He could say it was to aid someone's royal path, or that he came because he received a request. Even if he said he came to lend a hand because the situation looked entertaining, Kin would have nodded.
He might very well answer like that.
A man like Encrid was more than capable of it. But would the Marquis like such an answer? Probably not. The Marquis did not look particularly expectant or amused. He was simply indifferent. And because of that, the pressure was palpable.
Encrid opened his mouth.
"I came for a world where children do not have to step onto the battlefield."
At the unexpected answer, everyone, including Kin, fell silent. Encrid continued to speak in a casual tone, as if reciting poetry. It was a quiet, calm declaration and a public pledge—an expression of his will.
"I came to reduce the monsters and demonic beasts. I came to protect those who know how to cherish their people. I came to punish those who oppress others with power. I came because I want to protect the weak and safeguard the dreams of those who dare to dream."
Empty words. Absurd words. Words spoken off the cuff.
No—they had meaning. They were words of conviction. They carried sincerity. They were spoken from the heart, not just the mouth. In that instant, everyone—including Kin, the Marquis, the guards, and those watching them: Rem, Dunchabel, and Andrew—felt as if they had been swept up in a storm called Encrid.
Words have no power, since anyone can just talk.
No—words do have power. For he had infused them with his will and conviction.
While everyone remained silent, the Marquis set his teacup down with a soft clack and spoke.
"Did you say your dream is to become a knight?"
Since his dream couldn't have spread that far yet, the Marquis must have had very sharp ears. Encrid nodded.
"Yes."
"I shall root for you."
"Yes."
The Marquis stood up. Why had he come here? Surely he hadn't come just to confirm that his dream was to be a knight, yet he was leaving now?
Kin was flustered. However, as a beauty who had shaken men's hearts for years, she was excellent at controlling her expression. Having finished a conversation far shorter than the time they had waited, the Marquis turned around.
The Marquis, who looked as if he would walk straight out, turned back before he had even taken five steps.
"Ah, but does a man who wishes to become a knight by protecting the weak simply stand by and watch people die in the capital? When incidents are breaking out every night? Or do you only move when there is a request?"
The Marquis's tone and movements were quite unnatural. That is to say, he acted as if it had suddenly crossed his mind, but it was calculated speech and behavior from the very beginning. And he made sure to let it show.
Are you saying you won't employ that chivalry of yours, that conviction of yours, without Krona or some other reward?
Encrid felt as if he could hear the Marquis's unspoken words vividly. It was unreasonable. The affairs of the capital fell under the jurisdiction of the Security Force. Since Encrid belonged to the Border Guard Standing Army, taking action here would actually put him in a position to be reprimanded.
Should he accept this unreasonable demand?
Encrid looked into the Marquis's eyes. A faint smile played in those eyes.
Ah.
It was a provocation. A provocation, plain and simple. He felt it clearly.
Can you do this? You don't have to, of course. I know you don't absolutely have to do it. But is that really what your chivalry is about? So what was your dream again? A knight? A kniiighhht? Or are you just backing out because you honestly don't think you can solve this?
In an instant, the Marquis's unspoken words brushed past his ears. Though the man hadn't actually uttered a single word of it, Encrid heard them. Encrid had to fall for this provocation.
Because that was how he would prove himself. Because for his words to carry sincerity, they had to be backed by action. If he was all talk, no one would follow him. No one would stand behind him.
"I will look into it and resolve it starting tonight."
"I leave it to you, then."
Their eyes met, and the Marquis smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling softly. Encrid returned the smile.