Chapter 416: The Send-off
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 416: The Send-off
"If there is something you wish to do, then do it."
The Marquis stared blankly at Kin for a moment before speaking. Without another word, he turned and walked away. Kin stood frozen, lost in thought.
A gust of wind swept through the training ground, kicking up dust. Kin didn't even blink as the grit brushed against her face.
Is this really happening?
Her entire body trembled with the shock of it. The head of the house was not a man who went back on his word.
As she processed the reality, her heart stirred at the memory of the man who had brought this about.
Should I at least thank him?
Honestly, she wasn't entirely without interest in the man named Encrid—though not in the sense of wanting to be his wife.
A dream, was it? Kin had always been far more interested in the artistry of gems than simply wearing them. Born into a family of Marquis Vaisar’s caliber, she was expected to be a connoisseur of finished products, not someone who got her hands dirty cutting or selling them.
Normally, such a thing would never have been permitted. It was supposed to remain a mere hobby, nothing more.
But the human heart is rarely so simple.
She loved the work. She loved the opportunity to spread her wings and showcase her own abilities, rather than existing merely as a man’s accessory.
However, she knew there would be a price to pay. While she could still use the family’s prestigious name, she would no longer be able to live the pampered life of a direct descendant of House Vaisar. Kin was not so naive as to be ignorant of that trade-off.
Is it really okay to live like this?
Just then, her eyes fell upon a man who lived completely as he pleased.
Encrid. She felt it was only right to express her gratitude. It was because of his blunt words that the situation had reached this conclusion.
Having made up her mind, she took a step toward Encrid, who had already begun swinging his sword on the far side of the training ground. But before she could take more than a few steps—
"Leave him be," said the barbarian leaning casually against the wall.
"I have something to say to him..."
"Right now, you could dance naked next to him and he wouldn't notice. Ah, wait, you're a noble. Anyway, he won't hear a word you say. Not a single one."
Though the comparison was unpleasant, Kin ignored it and looked at Encrid.
The man had turned his back on a Marquis and immediately returned to his sword. His pupils were unfocused, and his mouth was slightly agape. He looked as if he were in a trance, completely intoxicated by his own movements.
He was a total training addict.
I guess they don't call him a madman for nothing.
Kin turned away. Later, she would share this story with her acquaintances. Even Marquis Vaisar, though pretending to be miffed, took a liking to the man’s bold nature and helped spread the anecdote far and wide.
Because of that, no one in the capital dared to bother Encrid or his companions. After all, he was the man who had flatly rejected the influence of House Vaisar—a family practically guaranteed a dukedom.
*
The moment the Marquis and Kin left, Encrid put them out of his mind and swung his sword. He simply couldn't delay the pleasure any longer. Whether people were watching or waiting, he couldn't hold back.
Ah, this is fun.
Did he feel anything specific after fighting Rem, Ragna, and Audin? No. He had simply been beaten to a pulp.
Yet, even so, it was pure joy. The entire process of swinging the sword, pondering the mechanics, and recreating the movements with his own body brought him bliss.
There were movements he performed hundreds of times a day. Basic forms: the vertical slash, the horizontal sweep, the downward strike, and the thrust. Encrid began to repeat them rhythmically.
He didn't expect a sudden epiphany or a world-shaking change. He did it simply because it was fun—endlessly, purely fun.
After a few days spent swinging his sword and engaging in light sparring, news finally arrived: the merit award ceremony was to be held.
"Let's go."
Encrid set out, accompanied by Rem, Ragna, Audin, Dunchabel, and Teresa. Sinar had already departed early on personal business.
"Please count me out."
Sachsen was not the type to show his face at such formal events. Esther, in her panther form, merely shook her head in agreement. Thus, Encrid took only the core members of the group.
The audience chamber was packed with nobles.
"The Hero of the Nation has arrived!" an attendant announced.
Krang, seated upon the throne, nodded. With dark circles under his eyes, the King looked utterly exhausted. Standing closest to him were the Marquis of Okto and Marcus Vaisar. The elder Marquis Vaisar stood a half-step behind them.
Boldly skipping the usual long-winded formalities praising the King’s greatness and the nobility of his bloodline, Krang spoke directly.
"I apologize for the delay of this ceremony."
Seeing how incredibly brief the proceedings were going to be, a few traditionalist nobles let out quiet sighs. They muttered under their breath about the "dignity of the crown," but they kept their mouths shut in Krang’s presence.
This was the King who had ended the civil war. The King who had triumphed without even summoning the formal knight orders. The King whom the nobles themselves had chosen to follow.
This was his first official event. To openly contradict him now? No matter how foolish a noble might be, anyone lacking that much political sense would have already lost their title.
Appropriate rewards were bestowed upon various nobles and commanders—mostly in the form of krona or land grants.
Andrew was among them. He received territory and gold, and his status changed as well. He was now Viscount Gardner. Additionally, he was granted a formal position within the capital’s administration.
As the ceremony proceeded:
"I command Marcus Vaisar. As the Commander-in-Chief..." a monk acting as a scribe read from the royal decree. "In recognition of your outstanding service, I bestow upon you the title of Count."
The moment the words were spoken, the lively atmosphere turned ice-cold. It was as if a bucket of freezing water had been dumped over the room.
"What did you just say?" Marquis Vaisar asked, his lips trembling.
Marcus Vaisar was the heir to the Marquisate. He was supposed to receive a dukedom for this achievement. By accepting a separate title of Count, he had effectively abdicated his succession to the head of House Vaisar.
Encrid knew this was entirely Marcus’s own doing.
A small commotion broke out, and the elder Marquis Vaisar wore a look of utter dismay. The head of House Vaisar had ultimately sided with Krang, but he hadn't been there from the start. He had weighed his options extensively before placing his bets.
Even that choice had been a gamble for the Marquis, but not for Marcus.
The Marquis glared at his son, then shook his head and fell into a sullen silence. Watching this, Encrid thought the Marquis looked like a thoroughly pouting old man.
"For your immense contributions, I bestow upon you the title of Duke."
Instead of Vaisar, the Marquis of Okto was elevated to Duke. He knelt on one knee and bowed his head in gratitude.
By the time the rewards had been distributed to almost everyone, only a few names remained uncalled.
Encrid and the Mad Company.
"I wish to handle the final award myself."
The King rose from his throne and took a step forward. Without glancing at the surrounding nobles, he looked at Encrid.
"Do you need a title?"
His tone was casual, like a neighbor asking if someone needed spare firewood.
Encrid, thinking not really, gave a light shake of his head. "No."
His attitude suggested he had left royal etiquette somewhere back in the Demon Realm, but who could criticize him? Only a few noble bastards who couldn't control their expressions frowned.
"I figured as much. I have opened the treasury; you may take whatever you can carry."
"Thank you."
"After that, you may return to where you came from."
Those were the words Encrid had been waiting for most. However, the surrounding nobles watched with suspicious eyes.
Only the treasury?
Is that it?
What happens to the hunting dog once the hunt is over?
Surely he should be disposed of.
Some were muttering nonsense, but even if Krang or Encrid had heard them, they wouldn't have cared.
"I am busy. I trust you all are busy as well," Krang said to the room. "Even in fairy tales, you won't find a story where 'they all lived happily ever after' just because a civil war ended. You know this, right?"
It was a blunt truth. Fairy tales never featured the bloody, bureaucratic aftermath of a civil war.
"So, let us get to work."
The workaholic King spoke, and the merit award ceremony concluded more abruptly than any in the kingdom's history.
A luncheon banquet followed, but it was a dry affair, devoid of alcohol. What’s more, the King didn't even attend.
"I worry for the dignity of the throne," a few nobles whispered, but Encrid ignored them.
Had he not already witnessed the truth at the memorial coronation? Krang had personally recited the names of every soldier inscribed on the monument. Encrid had seen the eyes of the people then.
He had seen the monks offering quiet prayers. He had seen mothers weeping as they looked upon their new King. He had seen the fathers and the children. The decent nobles had knelt after that coronation, swearing true allegiance.
Even without a halo of glory or a grand festival, that somber ceremony in the heart of the capital had engraved the new King into the hearts of the people.
That's enough.
Encrid moved with a light heart. The rest was for Krang to handle. It was time for him to return to the Border Guard. But first, he had to stop by the royal treasury. He wondered if there would be any swords worthy of replacing Silver.
"This is the place."
Even Rem and Ragna showed a subtle interest in the royal treasury. However, it looked quite different from what they had imagined. The massive doors were wide open, and carts were constantly moving in and out.
"Ah, it's still a bit hectic," Marcus said, personally guiding them.
The man was now the Commander-in-Chief of the army, a Count, the acting ruler of the Molsen territory, and the head of the Capital Defense Force.
"Aren't you busy?" Encrid asked.
"Didn't you say you'd leave right after this? I have to show you around now. I won't have the luxury of seeing you off later."
If you're that busy, you really don't have to do this, Encrid thought.
He stepped inside to inspect the kingdom's treasures, but the reality was a far cry from his expectations. The treasury was vast but largely empty. There were no mountains of gold coins, no rows of legendary magic swords lining the walls.
"Coming through! Out of the way!"
A cart loaded with heavy boxes brushed past Encrid. The worker pulling it was dripping with sweat, too occupied to even glance at the "Hero."
Encrid assessed the scene and put the pieces together. Rem noticed as well, asking before Encrid could speak.
"Are they using the treasury to cover the civil war damages?"
Marcus nodded, impressed that his barbarian friend was so sharp.
"What about magic swords?" Ragna asked.
She had hoped for a blade with an enchantment, or perhaps an ego-weapon—something that spat fire or ice. Or, at the very least, a weapon that never lost its edge. For a temporary replacement, that would have sufficed.
"There are none," Marcus replied.
"Why?" Ragna’s voice grew blunt. Marcus didn't take offense; there was no point in arguing with a member of the Mad Company.
"We sold them all."
Ragna didn't press further. If they were gone, they were gone.
If there are no enchanted swords... should I try pouring my Will into a regular one? Ragna wondered. A genius’s thoughts were always unique.
Encrid looked around. There wasn't a single sword here better than the standard longswords he had picked up during his travels. He couldn't even find a blade forged with Valerian steel.
"I'm good," Rem said, shaking his head.
The items truly worthy of being called national treasures were already held by the high-ranking knights, and the rest were locked deep within the palace’s secret vaults—items that couldn't simply be given away. They were symbols of the state.
Krang had been willing to give Encrid even those, but the primary national treasure was a staff housing a sleeping Sun Beast. It was something Encrid neither wanted nor could use.
"It is said that poverty is not a sin," remarked Audin, who had no interest in loot to begin with.
Dunchabel, claiming her scimitar was superior to anything here, eventually settled on a pair of shin guards made from the hide of a demonic beast. At least they were practical. Teresa followed Audin’s lead and shook her head.
"I have done nothing to deserve such things."
Teresa felt her contribution to the war was minor, and she believed greed was a path to be avoided.
"Tell Krang I'll see him again," Encrid said as they prepared to leave.
"Mmh, right. I suppose you're the only one who can call the King by his name so casually. Dignity aside, it seems fitting for the King and the Demon Slayer to remain friends."
Marcus spoke freely, unburdened by rigid etiquette. He only cared about acting sensibly in public, and he knew Encrid was smart enough to do the same.
Encrid packed his meager belongings and began to move. He didn't expect a grand send-off; the kingdom didn't have the resources for such things anyway. One look at the treasury proved that.
It’ll be a miracle if the country doesn't go bankrupt.
Actually, they had likely emptied the treasury specifically to prevent that bankruptcy.
It was fine that he hadn't received a flashy reward. He hadn't come for one. After gathering Odd-Eye, the group made their way toward the outskirts of the capital, only to find a contingent of Royal Guards blocking their path.
The captain, wearing a gray helmet, stepped forward.
A spar? Encrid wondered. He often felt a pang of regret when a strong warrior departed; perhaps this man felt the same. Encrid stepped forward, ready to accept a final challenge.
But instead of drawing a sword, the commander removed his helmet and knelt on one knee.
"Thanks to you, my eyes have been opened. Thanks to you, I am walking the proper path."
He bowed his head in deep respect. Following his lead, every single Royal Guard knelt in unison.
"For the Hero of the Nation!" they shouted.
This was no simple send-off. Among the ranks was Lieban, who had known Encrid in the past. His merits on the battlefield had been recognized, and he had been reassigned to this elite unit.
"It's been a while," Encrid said, pausing to acknowledge him. Lieban had been one of the few to take his side early on. Some people were impossible to forget.
Lieban bowed his head even lower. "I am ashamed of my past," he whispered.
Encrid simply patted him on the shoulder as he walked past.
For my shining hero.
As a man of the sword, Lieban swore in his heart that if Encrid ever called, he would run to his side. Once his duties to the crown were fulfilled, he would follow the man if asked.
Encrid thought that would be the end of it, but he was wrong.
As the capital gates came into view, he saw a massive sea of people. A vast majority of the citizens had gathered to fill the plaza and the road leading out. The sheer volume of the murmuring crowd suggested even more people had gathered than for the coronation.
"For the Hero of the Nation!"
The citizens watched him depart, having gathered as if by a silent agreement. Among them was the healer who had lost her son, as well as Andrew and his trainees.
Encrid had wondered where Andrew had disappeared to after the ceremony. Despite the crushing workload of managing a new territory, Andrew had come to say goodbye.
"I knew you would leave right away," Andrew said, approaching him.
"There's nothing left for me to do here."
"We'll see each other again, right?"
"Come visit the border."
"I will."
As they exchanged brief greetings, Aisia and the South Gate Guard Captain approached.
"Are you leaving just like this?" the Captain asked.
Aisia held out her hand, and Encrid grasped it.
"See you again," he said. It was a simple farewell. The Captain bowed, stating he was deeply indebted. Aisia merely shook his hand, her silence speaking volumes.
Rem, listening to the thunderous cheers of the populace, grumbled, "At least wave your hand, you blockhead."
Encrid complied, waving to the masses.
"Demon Slayer!"
"Hero of the Kingdom!"
"Take me with you!"
Why is there always someone asking to be taken along? Encrid wondered, continuing to wave.
The cheering reached a fever pitch.
"WAAAAAAA—!"
A roar of cheers, grander than any battle cry, bolstered Encrid’s spirit. It wasn't a bad feeling.
"I'm telling you, he's a noble-killer," Rem muttered.
Encrid chuckled softly and stepped through the gates, leaving the capital behind. Now, it was truly time to return home.
"Let's walk together for a bit."
They were a good distance from the walls of Nauril when a small group blocked the main road. At the front stood a familiar figure.
"Aren't you the King?" Encrid asked.
"What, do you think a King only lives to work?" Krang replied.
Encrid had thought there would be no formal send-off, but this was turning out to be a very noisy departure indeed.