Chapter 549: A Knight is a Calamity
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 549: A Knight is a Calamity
Enri set out on his journey with a carriage loaded with obsidian and talismans—specialties of the West—along with a few other useful goods he hoped to sell.
He had expected the trek to be difficult, but the reality was truly grueling. It was so taxing that he frequently found himself questioning if he had made the right choice. It wasn't that he wanted to give up halfway, but the sheer weight of the responsibility left his throat dry with anxiety.
Still, he pressed on. He had made up his mind, knowing better than anyone that this was his golden opportunity.
Captain.
Gripping the bow Encrid had given him, Enri resolved that he would not be the fool who let such a chance slip through his fingers.
He needed carriages for his cargo and mounts for his people. Since velopters were useless outside the West, horses were a necessity.
But I’m short on Krona.
With light pockets, Enri had to settle for donkeys and handcarts instead of sturdy horses. With ten carts in total, they carried a decent amount of cargo, but the sight of the donkeys and the ragtag group accompanying them made for a rather pitiful caravan.
"Don't worry."
"We're going with you."
Fortunately, the Western Twins, natives of the West, had joined as escorts. In terms of raw combat power, it was a highly reassuring lineup. He had also hired a few extra hands from the Oasis Village.
"Will we get a generous bonus once we arrive?"
"You're covering food and lodging along the way, right?"
Everyone asked the same practical questions.
"To be precise, if this caravan succeeds, I plan to give you enough to make a living wherever you choose to settle. But there's no guarantee of success."
Although the Oasis Village was a haven for fugitives, some had ended up there through false accusations rather than malice. Among them was a man who had come with his wife and child; he lacked a talent for fighting but possessed a fierce sense of loyalty.
Enri had handpicked only people like him. It was a skill he had acquired after being dumped by a woman and rolling around the bottom of the world—he had developed a keen eye for character.
And what if his judgment was wrong?
It’ll be fine.
Even if a few of them turned their blades against him halfway, they wouldn't stand a chance with the Western Twins around.
For those who joined Enri's caravan, it was a gamble. There was no immediate pay; they were promised a share only after the journey was completed and profits were realized. Because of this, the group consisted mostly of simple, honest folk or those with heavy responsibilities, rather than the shrewd and calculating.
The work was grueling, but it felt far more decent than staying in the Oasis Village. Trading felt like a much more normal way to make a living than hunting beasts for the jewels embedded in their hides.
And so, the caravan began its crawl. They suffered through attacks from monsters and demonic beasts, and struggled against simple rainstorms. It was only natural, as they didn't have enough Krona to stay in cities. Enri had spent his entire budget on the donkeys and carts. Consequently, they slept under the stars for the entire journey.
Enri utilized every ounce of his talent as a guide, honed during his days as a hunter, to lead the group along the safest routes and select the best campsites. Whenever force was required, the Western Twins stepped forward.
Bandits still ambushed them occasionally. On this continent, making a living as a bandit meant possessing enough strength to survive the monsters. Naturally, they were numerous and boasted some skilled fighters, but they were no match for the twins. Along the way, the young boy following his father even showed a knack for the sling, picking off targets with stones.
Somehow, they managed to reach the point where Nauril came into view without a single casualty. By then, however, Enri was utterly exhausted.
"We should sell some of our goods here before moving on."
But upon entering the capital, the very first merchant they encountered tried to pull a fast one on them.
"Goods from the West? How do I know if they're actually from the West or just fakes? Talismans? How do you guarantee their effects?"
Enri knew this was a cheap trick. The merchant was sowing doubt to drive the price down. The twins were ready to draw steel at the merchant's insults, but doing so would immediately bring the capital's security forces down on them. Enri knew they would be at a severe disadvantage, looking like shabby outsiders from the West.
It wasn't like he hadn't seen this kind of situation a hundred times before.
"We have to endure. Hold back," Enri whispered, restraining the twins while swallowing his own anger.
He prepared to leave, giving up on selling their goods in the capital. It was impossible to get a fair price from these bastards—who looked like some grotesque cross between a bloated pig and a toad—constantly picking fights.
Once they reached the Border Guard, Encrid would vouch for them, and all these problems would vanish. Enri knew this, but he hadn't tried to sell the goods in Nauril for no reason. The journey ahead was simply too treacherous to continue without supplies.
But was it right to stay in the capital without a single silver coin? If they slept near the slums at night, they would likely encounter a hundred thieves. Should they kill them all? The thieves' guild was the type to pick a fight first, then swarm back for revenge if they were beaten. Outside the city was one thing, but inside, they couldn't afford a bloody brawl.
"Sigh."
He let out a heavy sigh and turned to leave, but the bastard—the pig-toad—wouldn't stop pestering them. Enri's hand kept twitching toward the bow Encrid had gifted him.
If I ever see you outside these walls, I'm putting an arrow right through your skull.
Just as he made that silent vow, Encrid suddenly appeared out of nowhere, offering a bright smile and calling the toad "Uncle."
The man called "Uncle" could only tilt his head in sheer confusion.
*
Not everyone in the world lived an upright and honest life. There were always people like this. Encrid didn't necessarily think of them as evil, but this was a different matter entirely.
He could read the situation at a single glance.
Encrid lightly leaped down from his horse. With a soft thud, his feet touched the ground, kicking up a small cloud of dry dust. Looking at the stones paving the ground, it appeared the road had been recently repaved.
On that road stood the carts, the donkeys, and Enri, whose hollow cheeks showed just how much he had suffered. It was a stark contrast to the greasy face of the merchant, Malton, standing opposite him.
"Uncle, why are you pretending not to know me?"
As Encrid spoke while walking forward, the guard captain sidled up to him and whispered, "Did you have an uncle, General?"
"I acquired one recently."
"...Excuse me?"
Rem let out a snort of laughter. He realized that Encrid's occasional streak of wicked mischief was acting up.
"Why don't you recognize me?"
Encrid obligingly lifted his wrist. The leather sold by the giant had now been fashioned into a bracer wrapped around his arm.
"U-Uh, you? That guy?" Malton pointed a trembling finger at Encrid in shock.
"That guy?" The guard captain reacted instantly. His gaze shifted to the toad-like merchant, whose bulging eyes darted around frantically.
What is this? Why does the guard captain seem to be bowing to him? And why is he so confident? Wasn't he just some arrogant swordsman? All sorts of panicked thoughts raced through Malton's mind.
"Uncle."
When Encrid called him that again, Malton suddenly recalled the absurd boast he had made before: "You're a friend of the Lockfried Merchant Guild master? Pfft, then I'm General Encrid's uncle."
Friend... Uncle... Lockfried Merchant Guild... Encrid.
The words jumbled together, the face clicked in his memory, and a horrifying conclusion was reached. A tentative, terrifying realization began to dawn on him as to why this man was calling him uncle. Even as he asked himself, he prayed it wasn't true, yet a sense of certainty gripped him.
Everything fit together all too perfectly.
"The Knight of the Iron Wall?" The widely whispered moniker slipped from Malton's lips. It was a question born of a desperate prayer, begging for the man to say no, to say he was just a con artist.
"You certainly know your nephew's nickname well," Encrid said with a smile.
At those words, Malton felt his world crumble.
How is this real? Why are you the actual Knight of the Iron Wall?
"Huh?" Malton's brain completely froze.
His survival instinct forced his head to turn. Standing nearby was the noble who had been backing him—a man who had been eyeing the goods brought in from the West. He was one of those nobles who, despite the civil war having barely ended, was already busy forming factions to build his own power base. Since expanding influence required gold, he had set his sights on rare goods.
Encrid didn't know the noble's name. Even if he had heard it, he would have forgotten it. He simply followed Malton's gaze and looked at the man.
"It seems there has been a misunderstanding," the noble said, thinking he could mediate the situation reasonably.
Deep down, he believed that regardless of whether the man was a general, this was the capital—a land where the law still held sway and his noble status could not be ignored. Even so, cold sweat began to pour down his back.
I won't get stabbed to death here, will I? Anxiety made him subtly shift his hips backward. He spoke, but his posture was bizarre, his rear pushed back as if ready to bolt at any second.
"What misunderstanding?" Encrid spoke flatly, causing the noble's eyebrows to twitch.
"That merchant was merely trying to conduct a fair transaction."
The funny thing was, Encrid hadn't even accused him of anything yet, but the noble was already spitting out excuses. The situation was highly amusing.
While Encrid stepped forward to exchange words, Rem asked, "Looks like you guys had a rough time?"
"More than that, that bastard..."
Behind them, Rem listened to the whole story from the twins.
"Hey. Did you say the talismans made by Westerners are fake? That sorcery is a scam?"
Malton had indeed said those things, fueled by the greed of the noble standing behind him. He looked at the viscount. Save me. The plea in his eyes was crystal clear, and Rem was not one to hold back.
With a soft clack, Rem gripped his axe and strode forward.
"Apologize, or die? 'I was wrong.' Just those three words, and nothing terrible has to happen," Rem said.
Whether it was his constitution or his personality—or perhaps because the first thing he saw when he arrived on the continent was a noble bastard who made a sport of tormenting people—Rem utterly loathed men like this.
Sensing the ominous aura radiating from the axe-wielding man, the three escorts behind the noble furrowed their brows and prepared to step forward. At that moment, the guard captain spoke up.
"Know when to step in and when to back off. Do you really not know who you're facing? Black hair and blue eyes, grey hair with an axe, and a man built like a bear. Do you seriously not recognize them?"
As the songs of their deeds spread, rumors about the defenders of the Border Guard had also circulated.
"The Noble Killer."
A madman who, having lost his parents to nobles as a child, splits open the skull of any noble he sees. It wasn't true—it was just a rumor—but it was effective.
"The bear beastman who tears people in half for fun," one of the escorts muttered.
"...Is that supposed to be me?" Audin asked, unable to even laugh. He wasn't a beastman, nor did he have such a hobby.
"Ah..." The three escorts shut their mouths.
Rem was already holding back out of respect for Encrid. That was why he was merely demanding an apology. If he had followed his usual temper, he would have beaten them half to death first and talked later.
"...I apologize. I was in the wrong." The viscount was completely overwhelmed by the pressure. There was no need to even employ Will. His escorts' refusal to move, combined with the terrifying title of "Noble Killer" ringing in his ears, made him feel like he was about to wet himself.
The viscount bolted on the spot, leaving the merchant with a face on the verge of tears.
Encrid spoke to his "uncle."
"Give me some pocket money."
"Pardon?"
"Are you not going to give me any?"
As Encrid asked, the guard captain glared fiercely from behind. Piecing the situation together, it was clear this merchant had done something sleazy to his idol.
I'll kill him. I'll definitely kill him. You are dead meat. Though the guard captain couldn't manipulate Will, his sheer determination was so intense that his murderous intent felt almost tangible.
"Of course I will! Here it is!" Malton hurriedly untied his pouch.
"It's too little," Encrid said after a brief glance. There were over twenty silver coins and even a gold coin, but if Encrid said it was too little, then it was too little.
Malton immediately dispatched his servant to the bank. Large cities usually had a major bank staffed by citizens from the Trade City. They had fled during the civil war but had recently returned, allowing the bank to reopen.
Clink.
A beautiful exchange of a hefty pouch took place. Encrid took the pouch and handed it over to Enri.
"Sell the donkeys and buy horses. Upgrade the carts too, eat well, get some rest, and then set off. The road ahead should be a bit easier from now on."
"Thank you." Enri bowed his head. Tears threatened to well up as he recalled the hardships they had endured.
Watching this, the guard captain chimed in. "I will take responsibility for escorting them to Zaltenbuck. Please do not refuse. I want to do this."
"I was just about to thank you," Encrid nodded.
"Then please wait just a moment." The guard captain let out a long breath, walked over to Malton, placed a heavy hand on his shoulder, and led him aside.
Encrid waved goodbye to his "uncle."
Among the people who had come with Enri was a boy of about thirteen who had followed his father. In the eyes of that boy, Encrid and his companions appeared infinitely grand—even more so than the king of a nation. To children like him, the name Encrid did not just represent a heroic swordsman. The king was far away, but Encrid had protected them with his own hands.
"See you at the Border Guard."
Encrid parted ways with Enri, while Rem gave some instructions to the twins. Afterward, they rode their horses along the outer road leading to the royal palace. It was the very road he had once galloped down astride Odd-Eye.
They stayed at the palace for the night. Having nothing to do, they borrowed the training ground to spar, which drew people from all over wishing to learn. Encrid faced them all without discrimination.
"As much as you like."
Among them was Lieban, an old acquaintance who had become a Royal Guard, as well as Matthew, who should have been by Krang's side. Meanwhile, the Royal Guard captain, who wore a dark grey helmet, also dropped by briefly. Instead of sparring, he merely offered a nod of greeting before leaving. He was an exceptionally taciturn man.
Whatever the case, Encrid found this familiar and heartwarming. Seeing everyone look to him and discuss techniques made him more than just happy—he was thrilled. Watching this, Rem remarked that Encrid's "teaching sickness" was acting up again, though he too seemed to be enjoying himself.
After two days of rest, servants measured Encrid's body and quickly tailored a tailcoat for him. It wasn't a tight shirt that squeezed his muscles, but a garment with a comfortably loose fit.
He didn't bring Rem or Audin along to the audience.
"No thanks."
"I am fine."
They weren't the type to come just because they were invited. Krang surely knew this as well. The previous evening, Encrid had asked Audin why he had tagged along, as Audin had never liked leaving the Border Guard.
"I think I'll stop locking myself in the prison of delusion," Audin had replied. It was entirely cryptic, but since Audin didn't seem to want to elaborate, Encrid let it slide. He respected his squad members' privacy.
"The hero of the nation, the King's close friend, the Demon Slayer, the Sword of the Iron Wall, General Encrid of the Border Guard!"
Hearing the attendant's introduction outside the audience chamber, Encrid stepped inside. There, he saw Krang seated upon the throne.
"Welcome."
"I have come at your summons."
As soon as the brief greetings concluded, Marcus brought up the matter of the status of a knight, and the faction of nobles immediately voiced their objections.
"Of course, it is only right to grant such status to Sir Encrid, but is it truly wise to do the same for the others? Surely there is room for reconsideration?" A noble who seemed to possess some eloquence stepped forward. Behind him stood the toad-like merchant's friend from yesterday.
"Have you heard the term 'Noble Killer'?" the noble asked, stroking his mustache.
What did the ruling class fear most? Knights themselves, who were nothing short of calamities. If they ever changed their minds, they could overthrow a royal family with a single blade. Naturally, each royal family took precautions. The Knight of Restraint in the former Naurilian royal family had played such a role. Every knight swore loyalty to the royal family in a ceremony before they officially became knights.
But Encrid and his mad platoon had never done such a thing. Could Nauril stop them now? Even if they could handle Encrid, what about the others? Thus, the noble was questioning whether it was appropriate to elevate those "lacking in character" to the status of a knight.
Encrid thought every single word the man said was absolutely correct. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't picture Rem swearing loyalty to any royal family.
And then, his mind immediately drifted. Those cookies I had yesterday were delicious. The bread was excellent, too.
The noble delivered an impassioned speech. Stripping away the fluff, his grand oration boiled down to one point: how could they trust a "Noble Killer," and why this matter required serious reconsideration. Had a simple country bumpkin been standing there, they might have clapped in admiration.
Of course, no such thing happened.
"Are you quite finished?"
Only Krang responded, wearing a gentle smile that was entirely out of place in the tense atmosphere.