Chapter 440: Deserter Jack Is Already Dead
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 440: Deserter Jack Is Already Dead
The brown-haired woman’s eyes sharpened.
"I agree."
Luagarne spoke up from behind. Encrid wondered why on earth she was saying that after he had gone through all the trouble of bringing her here.
Encrid did not readily interject. He knew from experience that adding a few words in a situation like this usually only made things worse.
"Are you two seeing each other? Or is it Aisia?"
"He could be my spiritual spouse. Besides, he has a fiancée and a pet cat back at the main unit."
The brown-haired woman and Luagarne babbled back and forth without pause, with Encrid caught in the middle.
"That’s too cruel, Sir. With me right here by your side."
Then, the man sitting next to them spoke up. He whined in a deep, gruff voice that didn't suit his frame at all. If whining so bluntly could be considered a talent, he certainly possessed it.
At that, the woman burst into a hearty laugh and slapped the man’s back. To Encrid, the sight looked incredibly awkward. The man was quite large—though smaller than Audin—while the woman was less than half his size. The hand patting his back looked remarkably small.
But of course, that wasn’t all.
Encrid’s gaze drifted to the woman’s palm. He was silently observing her. He saw the calluses there—the kind that only formed after years of gripping and swinging a sword.
Encrid also examined the man who was being patted. A massive build, a fierce impression, a whining tone, an incredibly well-trained body, and muscles as sharply defined as a sculpture.
Finally, he looked at the woman with short blonde hair and sharp eyes. Her eyes met Encrid’s.
The brown-haired woman noticed where Encrid was looking and spoke up.
"Is she your type? You like them dangerous, huh? But seriously, you’re incredibly handsome. Just looking at you is a treat. Man, those Border Guard folks are lucky!"
She was the type to say whatever she wanted without a care for others. As she spoke, she slammed her cup onto the table with a thud. Instead of a grating noise, it sounded like a perfectly timed sound effect, as if she were tapping to a beat.
"I am Encrid of the Border Guard."
Encrid introduced himself plainly. He had long since given up on clearing up the misunderstandings caused by Luagarne’s words. He doubted they would listen to anything he said here anyway. Besides, such trivial matters didn't matter.
The brown-haired woman—had he seen her on the street, he would have thought her just an ordinary person with a common face.
Knight Oara tilted her chair back, lifting its front two legs off the ground, and replied with her right arm draped casually over the backrest.
"Oara of the Red Cloak Knights."
Naturally, she was a knight. Though she was a bit different from what Encrid had imagined, the fact that she hadn’t shown a single opening since they arrived confirmed her status.
"A provocative fellow, isn't he?" the short-haired blonde next to her said, spinning a metal goblet in her hand.
In that instant, Encrid envisioned several scenarios of how he would react if that goblet were thrown at him. It wasn’t intentional; it had simply flashed through his mind instinctively. Having experienced this a few times before, Encrid quickly realized what was happening.
Why was that goblet dangerous?
It was because the short-haired blonde was projecting an intent to attack, even while concealing her killing intent. It was a trick Sachsen often showed—a subtle, insidious pressure he wouldn't have sensed had he not sparred with Sachsen countless times.
The goblet wasn’t the only threat. The same went for the whining man’s right hand, which had slipped beneath the table.
He’s holding a weapon.
Even so, Encrid did not look in his direction. His gaze remained fixed forward, on Knight Oara. Encrid deliberately added intent to his instincts, releasing his own momentum. It had been there since earlier, and that was what the two of them had reacted to.
Yet Knight Oara brushed it all aside. Or rather, she ignored it entirely.
"Unless you’re possessed by some battle-starved ghost, drop it. I can tell you’re pretty good, but these two are no slackers either," Oara said.
"I would welcome a spar anytime," Encrid replied calmly.
"He’s just like Milio," the man replied, meeting his gaze.
The woman spinning the goblet quietly withdrew her momentum. Knight Oara smiled warmly and said, "But seriously, you’re really handsome."
The conversation was completely unpredictable, but Encrid knew many people like this—Rem, Ragna, Sachsen, Audin, and the like. He was used to it.
"I hear that often. May I request a spar?"
"Oh, a persistent, obsessive guy. Those show up a lot in the novels I’ve been reading lately."
"I am rather persistent. I wish to learn a thing or two from a knight."
"You have a relentless streak. I like that about you."
If Knight Oara spoke in her own way, Encrid did the same. Watching from the side, Aisia felt as though she were looking at two parallel lines that would never meet.
"Stop that and let’s talk business first, Master."
The knight was also the teacher of everyone in the order. That was why they called her Master.
"Ah, business?"
Only then did Encrid sit down and listen to the explanation. The unpredictable Knight Oara suddenly brought up the prohibition.
"You’re asking why I’m drinking when there’s so much work to do? We don’t even have enough manpower to clean up the mess."
"Then why are you drinking?" Frok, who sought the unknown, asked, unable to hide his curiosity. Come to think of it, no one here seemed particularly surprised to see Frok standing behind Encrid.
"I am the person in charge of this city, and also its Castellan."
Oara was shameless and confident. Luagarne thought for a moment and accepted it. It made sense. Some people just did as they pleased once they reached a high position. She understood human nature quite well.
To Encrid, she seemed like a free spirit who had broken out of the mold of a typical knight. Even so, he wasn't flustered. How could everyone in the world be the same?
Above all, Does it even matter? he thought. What mattered was that she was a knight, and her skills were the real deal.
Furthermore, though she didn't say it, she was doing something for this city. These were things he couldn't have known just by observing Knight Oara, but the attitudes of Aisia and the others made it clear. Even though she was clearly exhausted, Aisia respected and revered her—both as a knight and as a person. It was a deep, heartfelt respect that she had rarely shown even to Krang.
The same went for the other two. Beyond respect, they seemed to trust her implicitly. Whether she drank, spoke haphazardly, or acted like a fool while calling him handsome, their gazes and attitudes toward her never wavered.
How a person usually behaved could be read through the attitudes of those around them. This was a lesson he had learned while wandering the continent. Since Encrid was a man who lived with such lessons engraved on his body, he naturally did not underestimate her.
He simply focused on the fact that she was a knight. And he had not forgotten the reason he came here.
"Isn't the situation worse than it looks?"
Encrid was quick to grasp the situation. If he couldn't even do that, surviving until now would have been impossible. Ever since he took up the sword, he had committed near-suicidal acts countless times in pursuit of his dream. To avoid dying, he had to utilize everything in his surroundings. He had done so to survive, and to somehow make dangerous and difficult things work.
Those experiences often aided Encrid. They gave him the intuition to read the situation.
"It is bad," Aisia nodded, summarizing the situation. "The deserter bastards are a problem, but while we were holding off the monster wave, three colonies cropped up and took root."
It was no coincidence that they had encountered a spell-casting harpy earlier; it was only natural that intelligent demonic beasts were appearing. Colonies always raised the level of monsters and demonic beasts.
Oara was in the middle of chewing on a piece of golden-brown roasted broccoli. She acted as if none of this was a big deal. Munching on the broccoli, she spoke again.
"There are quite a few bastards deserting this year."
"It’s not just 'quite a few'; we’re on the verge of running out of hands right now," Aisia replied.
Encrid pointed out the most crucial aspect of the entire situation. While both the deserters and the colonies were indeed problems that needed solving, all of that only mattered if they could withstand the wave of monsters rushing from the Demon Realm.
Looking at the situation, that was the most dangerous and critical issue. Beyond the west lay the Demon Realm borderlands, and this city existed to guard against that threat.
"How do you stop the monsters rushing from beyond the western gate?"
When he asked, "I stop them," came Oara’s simple reply.
Encrid genuinely wanted to see her fight. A knight who claimed she would hold off the waves of the Demon Realm all by herself stood before him. Was this something a Knight of Azpen, the Eastern Mercenary King, Ragna, or Sinar could do?
At least right now, it didn't feel that way. It sounded like something only the ordinary-looking knight before him could accomplish.
"May I watch?"
"If you finish all your work and come back, I’ll let you watch from the very front row. But you’ll have to protect yourself. If you die, I feel like half the women in the world will become my enemies."
Oara cracked a joke in the end. Having fully adjusted to her pace, Encrid replied, "Won’t you protect me if it gets dangerous?"
At the unexpected response, Oara burst into a loud laugh once more. As she roared with laughter, the man beside her rounded his lips in an "Oh" and said, "He’s got some game."
It seemed they had a standard for measuring skill through banter. By that standard, Encrid might well become the greatest knight on the continent.
"Not bad." The short-haired blonde Associate Knight, who was smaller than Oara, nodded.
"Aisia, organize the tasks and give them to him. I’m getting drunk today."
Oara finished speaking, and Aisia bowed her head. With a clack, Oara set her chair upright and emptied the goblet in her hand.
With that, the meeting concluded. Once they stepped outside, Luagarne asked, "How was it?"
Though she had cut out all context, he immediately understood she was asking for his impressions of the knight.
"I don't know."
"You don't know?"
"I’ll have to see to know."
He was curious about her fight. He was even more curious about her sword. What would her tactics be like? What about her skill as a knight? Knights were not all the same. Each person walked a different path. He knew that now.
Therefore, I can’t even begin to guess without seeing it.
He desperately wanted to see the sword of a knight who didn't project even a single thread of intimidation. A burning desire welled up inside him—a thirst that remained unquenched, even after having faced the swords of four knight-class fighters.
Yet, instead of showing impatience, he allowed the flower of enthusiasm to bloom.
If even this is a talent...
Watching Encrid, Luagarne grew intensely curious about what would happen if this man truly became a knight and began to wield Will like one. It was entirely unpredictable. Even now, he seemed to have hit his limit.
That was what made it all the more thrilling. Making the impossible possible, with an end that defied imagination. Luagarne felt a shiver that would have given a human goosebumps. Instead of goosebumps, her skin flushed red—a characteristic of the Frok. She was deeply moved all on her own.
I will do my absolute best for this, Luagarne resolved.
Though Aisia’s eyes were weary, she didn't offer any excuses regarding Sir Oara. She knew Encrid. He wasn't the type to look down on or underestimate someone just because they acted this way. If anything, he would show curiosity and want to learn something from them.
Sure enough, he was showing that exact attitude right now.
Dunchabel, who had been listening from the side, asked, "Are you going into the Demon Realm?"
She didn't look terrified, but a faint worry was palpable. Conversely, she tried to appear even calmer, an attitude meant to hide her fear.
"If I get the chance," Encrid said flatly. He wouldn't have come all this way if he hadn't expected that.
Dunchabel swallowed hard, making sure not to make a sound. Even though they hadn't done anything yet, she already felt like running away.
"Now, shall we call this the list of requests to resolve? There’s more than just one or two. If we can solve even half of them, we’ll finally have some breathing room."
"Tell me."
Aisia did as Encrid asked. The requests were broadly divided into two main branches. One was the deserters. She said it was exceptionally bad this year.
To Encrid, it was only natural that there were many deserters. Battles where one could die at any moment continued endlessly, yet the supplies weren't solid, nor was the pay particularly high. Compared to the Border Guard campaign soldiers, it wasn't even half. And yet, had they said even this was on the higher side compared to soldiers from other regions?
If that was the case, they should have at least locked the soldiers up to keep them from fleeing, but...
" 'Would bastards kept that way even fight properly?' That’s what Sir Oara says."
Encrid roughly understood Sir Oara’s method. Leave only those who will fight. Sift through them to keep only those who know how to fight properly and possess strong minds. Otherwise, they would break anyway and wouldn't be able to fight properly.
The human mind was not that resilient. Standing on the boundary of death for too long was bound to break anyone. The fear of dying tomorrow, and a life where the comrade next to you constantly changed.
To prevent that, proper rest was necessary. It wasn't for nothing that the Border Guard had previously rotated two battalions while fighting Azpen. It was to avoid continuous combat. Combat fatigue always ate away at the mind before the body.
Even before hearing about the second problem—the monster colonies—Aisia vented her frustration.
"There are two problematic groups among the deserters, and the worst of them is a bastard named Jack the Swordsman. This piece of trash went and raided the supply caravan in the rear."
Thousand Bricks was a land where not a single grain of wheat grew. It was difficult to obtain food through hunting, so they had to rely entirely on supplies, yet a deserter had ambushed the caravan sent from the capital.
While some deserted and fled quietly, she said crazy bastards like this appeared on rare occasions. They were the type who wanted to plunder whatever they could before running away. If one wondered why, it was because more than half of the conscripted soldiers were criminals. The clever ones among them would quickly form a gang, plunder a fortune, and try to make a run for it.
"It would be best to deal with that bastard first."
Aisia explained Jack the Swordsman’s profile, and Encrid replied,
"I think I killed him on my way here."