Chapter 503: You Think You're That Good at Fighting? Follow Me to the Training Ground
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 503: You Think You're That Good at Fighting? Follow Me to the Training Ground
Nurat served as the adjutant to the battalion commander in Greenpearl.
What was that commander’s name again?
Encrid racked his brain for a moment, but nothing came to mind. All he could recall was that the man had a penchant for poetry and a fine singing voice.
Some things were bound to be forgotten amidst the endless repetition of his days. No matter how exceptional his memory was, it couldn't be perfect.
But Nurat remained vivid in his mind. Dark skin, a resilient spirit, lean, supple muscles—and Krais’s lover.
As these memories overlapped, a certain realization began to take shape.
It was a fresh insight: Frok’s Talent-Reading Eye was by no means infallible. No matter how keen one’s vision, it couldn't always capture the absolute truth. Even so, observing Nurat’s posture and stride now, it was clear she had surpassed a certain threshold.
Unless she had picked up some deceptive footwork from the Valen-style Mercenary Sword, Nurat had undoubtedly crossed a wall.
"You’ve improved," Encrid remarked casually.
"Me? I’ve been training hard, but do I really look that much more muscular?"
Krais chimed in, flexing his biceps, but Encrid didn't spare him a single glance.
Nurat lifted her left foot and stepped down, pressing her entire sole firmly against the earth. She was distributing her center of gravity across her feet, centering herself so she could react to any movement in a split second. Whether she needed to burst left or right, she was primed for instant action.
Rem let out a soft, impressed "Oho," while Luagarne’s large eyes widened.
Even to Luagarne, Nurat’s talent was extraordinary. She possessed a physique that was simply born different. With those supple muscles, her build was something even a beastman would envy. Upon that natural foundation, she had stacked bricks of effort and grueling discipline one by one, and now, that labor had blossomed.
Encrid stood up and brushed off his backside. No dust rose. Dark clouds loomed overhead, and a light drizzle had been drifting in and out all day.
"Nurat is my lover. You do know that, right?" Krais spoke up as Encrid continued to stare intently at her.
Ignoring the nonsense, Encrid spoke again. "Not bad."
It was a comment highly prone to misunderstanding, but Nurat didn't take it the wrong way. In fact, Krais had made his comment fully aware of how it sounded—it was just a joke thrown out because they hadn't seen each other in a while.
Nurat bowed her head in a brief, crisp military salute.
Rem and Luagarne understood the subtext of what was happening. Rather than simply concluding that Nurat’s skills had suddenly spiked, they understood the catalyst behind it.
To put it simply, it was stimulation. It was the work of the monster whose sheer talent served as a catalyst for everyone around him.
Though Encrid himself might not have realized it, his mere presence served as a powerful stimulant. The reason the overall level of the soldiers—not just Nurat—had risen was because of Encrid, a man who was deathly serious about training regardless of the time or place.
There are people like that in the world—people who, just by existing, make you question whether you are truly living your life to the fullest. He was a presence that made a sudden, restless urge boil up inside you. Through his attitude, his actions, and the path he walked, Encrid inspired drive in everyone around him.
Come to think of it, I worked pretty hard too, didn't I? Rem thought to himself.
He had disciplined himself like never before. Part of it was his desire to smack the heads of the bastards around him, but ultimately, watching Encrid struggle day after day made his own hands itch to move. He surely wasn't the only one who felt that way.
It was a synergistic effect.
The reason for founding an order of knights was similar. It was meant to give people a milestone to look up to—a knight to emulate. Of course, knights were often so packed with talent that they became symbols of frustration and despair instead. But even among them, there had likely never been a bastard as obsessed with the sword as this one.
"Anyway, welcome back," Krais said with another smile.
"Let's get some breakfast," Encrid replied. Having moved around so much, his hunger was finally catching up to him.
As they cleared the training ground and dispersed, they headed toward the dining hall attached to the quarters. Inside a private room with a large dining table, servants busily brought in food. A platter of thinly sliced, roasted whole-hog barbecue drizzled with lime was served.
Since Rem and Sachsen tried to fight with their forks even while eating, Encrid sat between them to keep the peace.
Encrid and Luagarne were indifferent, used to the pair’s savage behavior, and Sinar didn't care because she had no interest in the first place. However, the escort unit that had followed Krais grew extremely tense. They sat at the table right next to them, their shoulders and legs stiff with nerves.
"Who are they?" Encrid finally asked.
One of the guards at the next table sprang to his feet instantly. "Yes, sir! I am Ilanbeits from the Luabang region!"
It wasn't a common name. His skin was naturally fair, but it had tanned from traveling outdoors. The man named Ilanbeits stood tall, looking at Encrid with sparkling eyes. "I am a deep admirer of yours!"
Half of the escort was made up of people like him—those who had been drawn in by Encrid’s growing fame. The other half seemed like mercenaries just doing a job, but even they showed Encrid visible respect.
"Where do you even find kids like that to drag around?" Rem asked from the side.
Krais, chewing and swallowing a piece of barbecue, replied, "I had no choice. People keep trying to pick fights with me."
"What kind of fights?"
Contrary to his rough appearance, Rem’s mind was sharp. Considering the size of the city and the King’s protection, there shouldn't have been anyone foolish enough to harass Krais. This was the man who had even brought the city’s criminal guild under his thumb. Had he lost control?
"It's nothing major. Just a few neighboring nobles who hate seeing the King favor the Border Guard territory so much."
Governance was about balance, and ruling meant soothing the egos of various factions. If a ruler simply purged everyone they disliked, they would end up a tyrant. Even without this, during the civil war, Krang had purged Count Molsen, which led to the downfall of several noble houses. While some had risen as new nobility and others had rebuilt from ruin, far more had perished.
It wasn't that the governance had failed. Krang had worked tirelessly to keep internal affairs in check, but fools who couldn't read the room were bound to keep popping up.
There was no way Encrid would fail to understand what Rem had grasped. He roughly understood how the pieces were moving.
A single idiot picking fights.
An idiot, yet one quick enough to recognize the core resource keeping the city running, given that he had targeted Krais. Or perhaps he had targeted Graham first, only to find he couldn't make a dent? That was more likely.
Encrid chewed, sorting through his thoughts. As he bit into the meat, the juices burst forth, delighting his tongue.
Krais had tried to play the noble factions against each other, using the King’s name to create competition and divert attention away from the Border Guard, but he had failed. Krais was clever, but being clever didn't make him perfect. Everyone made mistakes. Moreover, with the recent city expansion, it was hard not to stand out.
Of course, Encrid didn't view it as Krais’s failure. He simply registered the existence of an idiot picking fights. Specifically, he knew the guy was some high noble’s cousin and roughly where his city was located. Knowing that much was enough. It wasn't a matter of Krais’s capability; the one picking the fight was simply the abnormal one.
"The city has grown," Encrid noted.
Krais immediately caught the thread. "Do you think it just grew? The substance is completely different, the substance."
Krais dipped his finger into his water cup and drew a line on the tablecloth, avoiding the food scraps. "We are connecting the roads from here to here. This is the Border Guard, this is roughly the capital, and down here leads to Martai and the other cities."
It was a road stretching out from the Border Guard. While Encrid was away, Krais had deliberately expanded the city’s reach. At the same time, Krais had expanded his own dreams.
It would be a waste to stop at just a city of pleasure.
If there was only a salon in one city, wealthy patrons from afar would find it difficult to visit. Krais’s clever mind had found a better path: build large-scale salons in every city. Connect the roads, set up outposts, and establish salons in every city where safety was guaranteed. The size of the salons would be scaled to each city.
He had even come up with a rough name.
Krais’s Happy Bathhouse?
A place with integrated water systems where people could wash, eat, play, and sleep.
"Once the Safe Road is connected, merchant guilds will swarm in like moths to a flame. Then, we can charge a fee on the main roads. A toll road, essentially."
The idea was fresh enough that Encrid nodded in agreement. Midway through the explanation, Rem and Sachsen headed outside, declaring they were going to have a duel. Luagarne slipped away, and Sinar left as well. Before long, only Krais and Encrid remained at the table.
"We won't build the walls high on the Azpen side," Krais continued.
"Why?"
"Because building walls right in front of Azpen would be like holding a blade to the man’s throat."
He meant that even if they took defensive actions, Azpen would view it as an offensive move. He wouldn't give them an excuse. Instead of building high walls, they were gradually expanding the borders.
Listening to the rest of the stories, it was clear Krais had gone through an immense amount of trouble. Yet, Krais himself didn't even view it as suffering. In the process, he had lined his pockets and had fun. He added that while traveling with escorts was a hassle, he had no choice because of the bastards picking fights in various cities.
"As long as we move in a crowd like this, most people won't dare pick a fight. So, yeah."
Most opponents would be handled easily by Nurat. But since he hated wasting time on pointless brawls, he preferred to travel with a large entourage.
Amidst all these headaches, he had apparently created a new military branch as well. In every way, Krais was a genius. What he had created was cavalry, which he called the scout-interceptor unit.
Training cavalry was an incredibly difficult task. Raising warhorses was a massive undertaking; a horse charging through a battlefield couldn't just be fast. It required a process of soothing and training naturally skittish beasts. Krais had managed to start raising warhorses by bringing in people with a knack for breeding, but the riders were another matter. Cavalrymen had to handle those horses as if they were extensions of their own bodies.
Forming a proper cavalry unit in a short period was impossible. It wasn't something that could be resolved in a matter of months.
So did he just give up? No. Krais shifted his perspective. First, he selected those who could ride well from all the units. Then, he drilled them to raise their combat capabilities. Since some dropped out and he weeded out those who looked like they would only commit banditry, their numbers weren't large. Thus, they couldn't be used as a traditional cavalry unit, but only as an interceptor force.
That was the Greenpearl cavalry scout unit currently led by Nurat. He said the name was temporary. Hearing that, Encrid recalled Enri, whom he had met in the West—the hunter turned merchant. There would be resources she would bring. Originally, she would just be passing through to use the Safe Road, but it seemed they could purchase some of those goods here.
Isn't there also the obsidian spear among the things to be brought from the West?
It wasn't a common item on the continent. Due to its brittle spearhead, an obsidian spear was effective as a javelin, but its durability was too low for hand-to-hand combat. However, the primary attack of the cavalry unit Krais had created was centered on bows and javelins. While this cavalry unit might not be overwhelmingly powerful in a melee, they would be a massive headache to face. If they rode around, poking here and stabbing there?
That would be annoying.
The scout-interceptor unit was valuable enough for that alone.
"Let's call them the Black Spear Cavalry."
"Pardon?"
"The name."
"Hmm, because we dye the shafts black?" Krais asked, guessing the meaning.
Names held power. Some names inspired terror just by being heard, boosting morale before a battle even began. The nickname "Persistent Lover" given to Azpen’s Gray Dog unit had been coined in the same way—a name carrying the implication that once they targeted you, they would kill you no matter what.
Black Spear Cavalry. Not bad, Krais muttered to himself as Encrid mentioned a few items that would be coming from the West.
"That sounds great."
Obsidian spearheads, the beginning of a mobile cavalry unit utilizing spear-throwers. Resources from the West, horses born in the Greenpearl grasslands, Krais’s intellect, and soldiers who had endured grueling, honest training. It was a unit combining all of these elements. Even so, it was still just a scout-interceptor unit.
"What about the rest of the scouts?"
"Finn leads them. She said she would turn them all into rangers."
Soldier specialization. This was Krais’s large-scale military organization plan, which Encrid had agreed to. For this, they had standardized equipment and divided the forces into branches: swordsmen, spearmen, archers, shield-bearers, cavalry, and horse archers. Everything was progressing smoothly, even in his absence.
After sharing their stories, they stepped out of the dining hall, only for a wild horse with different-colored eyes to snort and suddenly try to headbutt Encrid.
Encrid caught the wild horse’s head with his palm, deflecting its force. It was Odd-Eye, and of course, it was just playing—like throwing a joke at an old friend.
"Yeah, long time no see."
Encrid welcomed his friend, who had the blood of a demonic beast flowing through its veins. As he grabbed and shook its mane, Odd-Eye snorted and shook its head in excitement. To Odd-Eye, the city was too small. Feeling cooped up, the beast spent all day roaming outside.
As Encrid stroked its mane, he noticed a shadow blocking the sunlight. Behind him stood a man with a black sword slung over his shoulder. He had blonde hair and red eyes, wearing thin leather clothes speckled with blood.
Did he go out without even wearing armor?
Though his appearance was somewhat shabby, his sword skills were anything but.
"When did you get back?"
The casual greeting came as if they had just seen each other yesterday. Encrid smirked.
"A while ago."
"You arrived while I was out for a short walk," the man muttered. Looking at the blood on his clothes, it seemed he hadn't just gotten lost; he had been swinging his sword somewhere. It looked like he hadn't eaten or washed for days. Well, as always, none of that really mattered.
"Let's fight, you ignorant northern swordsman who can't even find his way around."
"...Why are you using insults meant for barbarians on me?" Ragna froze for a moment before replying.
Being provoked in a way that sounded like a jab at Rem made him slightly annoyed. Even though he knew Encrid was doing this on purpose, he couldn't help the reaction.
"You think you're that good at fighting? Follow me to the training ground."
Encrid ignored the protest and led the way.