Chapter 550: The Mad Knights
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 550: The Mad Knights
To many of the nobles, Encrid was little more than a ghost—a name from a distant land. They had never seen him in the flesh, and the reports coming from the Border Guard felt like far-fetched fairy tales.
Greenpearl? They’ve claimed that land now? He stopped an army all by himself? Not by slaughtering them, but just by standing his ground? An entire army halted just because one man told them to stop? Does that make any sense?
Some rumors were too absurd to be believed, while other accounts, though more realistic, felt entirely disconnected from their lives.
He had ended the civil war and earned the fearsome reputation of a Demon Slayer, but to many in the capital, the weight of those deeds had yet to sink in.
Among the gathered elite, some genuinely worried for the royal family, some sought to keep Encrid’s rising influence in check, and others were simply there, drifting through the proceedings without a single thought in their heads.
Regardless of their motives, they all fell silent at Krang’s words.
Just because the King was smiling did not mean he felt any warmth toward them. With a single sentence, Krang silenced the assembly and rose from his seat.
Krang could have lashed out at the spectators.
"Is that any way to speak to a hero who ended the civil war and defended our borders? I am so thoroughly ashamed that I want to drown myself in a washbasin."
Or he could have tried to persuade them one by one.
"Encrid is not that kind of man. He is my close friend and the sword that protects the royal family. I will personally guarantee his character."
If not that, he could have soothed their anxieties.
"I know what makes you uneasy. But do not worry. My vision is clear, and I do not let personal feelings distract me from my duties."
Had Krang possessed the temperament of a merchant, he might have even promised the nobles compensation to buy their silence.
But Krang did none of those things.
He did not soothe them, he did not rage, and he did not offer justifications.
He simply enjoyed the moment.
He recalled the time they had first met in a barracks, long before he had ever declared his intention to take the throne. To Krang, that moment was the beginning of everything.
"What is it you want to be?"
When Krang asked the exact same question, word for word, Encrid blinked once and smiled.
It had been so long that the memory felt like an ancient legend, but looking at Krang now, the scene resurfaced with vivid clarity.
The throne sat seven steps high. Standing atop the dais, Krang naturally looked down. Below him, Encrid had just risen after kneeling on one knee to show his respect in this formal setting.
Their eyes met.
One looked down from above, and the other looked up from below, yet both forgot their titles as they reminisced.
Back then, while speaking with Krang, Encrid had asked himself if his dream was merely a faint trace lingering in his heart, only to realize he was already moving toward it.
Encrid gave the same answer now.
"A knight."
It was a fragment of a dream once uttered by a third-rate soldier—a man who, holding the mere rank of a squad leader, had dared to speak far beyond his station. Despite his minuscule rank and pathetic skills, he had spoken of reaching the pinnacle of those who wielded weapons.
And that was exactly what Encrid had done.
"Right. A knight."
Krang’s words overlapped with the memory of that day.
A significant amount of time had passed, but Krang remained unchanged. Instead of mocking the ambition, Krang gave weight to the words. He showed that he was listening with his whole heart.
"Have you figured out how you're going to live?"
When Encrid threw Krang’s own past question back at him, the King’s lips trembled slightly. Then, he burst into a hearty laugh.
"Bwahahaha!"
Krang’s laughter echoed through the hall. "Yes, and so we have come all this way. Have you achieved your dream, my friend?"
Maintain royal dignity because of the audience? Krang couldn't care less. This very place, this exact moment, was what he had yearned for. The man before him had reminded him of the dream he had once tried so hard to forget.
How could he not cheer him on?
He wished, more than anything, for this man to reach the end of his path. He hoped that Encrid would rise above every other knight on the continent.
Back then, Vengeance had mocked them from the sidelines, throwing cold water on their hopes. But in this room, no one dared to utter a sound.
The man who had dreamed of becoming a knight stood here today, having stitched together his shattered aspirations. The man who had refused to mock those dreams had found his own path and now sat upon the throne.
"Partially," Encrid admitted. Still harboring great ambition, he knew his dream was not yet fully realized.
Krang nodded. He felt the exact same way.
"Everyone, out."
Krang spoke without taking his eyes off Encrid.
"Pardon?" a balding, sun-bronzed noble stammered in bewilderment.
"I will receive his knightly oath."
He intended to officially appoint Encrid as a knight of Naurilia right here and now.
"The Commander of the Red Cloak Knights is not present," Marquis Barnas spoke up, struggling to hide his fluster. It was an argument he had raised before: the King could not arbitrarily induct someone into the Red Cloak Knights without the Commander's consent.
It was a valid point of protocol. Furthermore, Krang knew that even if he ordered Encrid to join the Red Cloak Knights, Encrid would refuse.
"I know."
"Then what do you intend to do?" the Duke of Okto chimed in.
Marcus, having seen what the others had missed, remained silent. Although the King hadn't explicitly said it, the picture was clear. It wasn't that the high nobles were stupid; they simply couldn't fathom the scale of it.
How unprecedented.
It was a move that rarely crossed anyone's mind. But looking at it from another perspective, there was nothing more fitting for someone who had achieved such monumental feats. Given Encrid's sheer martial prowess, it was the only logical conclusion.
"My friend shall become the Commander of a new order of knights."
The Duke of Okto blinked in disbelief and looked at Marquis Barnas. The Marquis shared the Duke's shock.
A new order?
"Leave us. I will receive his oath in private."
Normally, taking the oath before the assembled nobility was proper protocol, but no words would reach Krang now.
His loyal guards struck the floor with the butts of their spears. Thud.
"We shall escort you outside."
The guards began ushering the nobles out. As Marcus left, he raised a clenched fist toward Encrid—a silent gesture of support from one who had always believed in his dream.
With the crowd emptying the hall, the room should have felt hollow, but it didn't. Instead of emptiness, Encrid felt something burning deep within his chest. It was the same sensation he’d felt when he first set out to be a knight.
If one called it light, it became light; if one called it a flower, it became a flower; if one called it a star, it became a star; and if one called it a dream, it became a dream.
His Will stirred. It filled his entire body to the brim, blazing with intense heat.
Krang stood before him.
A knight's oath of loyalty was bound by a Vow; breaking it would inflict a fatal blow to one's Will. Therefore, it was only natural for a king to receive a knight's oath to ensure their loyalty. There was not a single nation on the continent where this was not the case.
"This is the dream you wanted. Go forth as you wish."
Yet Krang completely ignored the standard Vow.
What if the man before him plunged a sword into his chest? Then that would simply be his end. Was it a gamble? No. He was a king, and a king must know how to read people—and how to trust them. This was not a gamble, but the absolute faith a king shows to those he believes in.
Shring.
Krang drew his sword and rested the flat of the blade upon Encrid's shoulder. Encrid did not kneel, nor did he bow his head.
"I appoint you as a knight of Naurilia," Krang declared.
Encrid felt the weight and the cold touch of the steel.
There were those who had deceived and exploited him, but there were also those who had planted a dream in a child's heart. Among those he had sought out, some had cursed and pushed him away, but others had patted him on the back.
For what did he wield his sword?
He wanted to protect the farmer so that he would never have to lose his leg.
For what did he press forward?
He wanted to save the child whose dream was to be an herb gatherer.
Thus, he had stitched together his shattered dreams to become a knight. Save for a select few, no one had expected anything of him. No one had been certain of his success. But he had no reason to stop just because of the critics and the mockers.
So he hadn't stopped.
Even when arrows flew and pierced him. Even when blades cut his flesh and struck his bones. Even when the walls blocking his path grew taller and waves of despair crashed over him.
"Waves, walls—no matter what comes, I will overcome them and protect everything behind my back."
The vow was brief, but the words didn't matter. The conviction held in his heart was far more important than the speech leaving his mouth. And Encrid had already proven that conviction through his actions.
Krang lifted the sword. Normally, a knighthood ceremony involved grueling formalities, but they had bypassed them all in this simplified ritual.
"What do you want to name your order?"
Krang's tone shifted. Stripped of his royal solemnity, he sounded like an ordinary young man from the neighborhood—though his striking looks made "ordinary" a bit of a stretch.
"Isn't that something the King is supposed to decide?"
"Ah, they say the Red Cloak Knights were named after the fur of the Sun Beast. So, how about the Iron Wall?"
The Order of the Iron Wall. It wasn't a bad name, but Encrid pondered his identity. Was it a name that truly suited the men under his command? Though he had acquired that nickname, he felt he was someone who moved forward rather than someone who simply held his ground.
"The Blue Cloak Knights?" Encrid suggested casually.
"...Why the hell do you deliver jokes with such a straight face, you bastard?" Krang chuckled. Usually, he managed to maintain a noble front, but right now, his speech was more casual than ever.
Honestly, Encrid wondered if the name even mattered. He simply wanted to dwell on the realization that had struck him moments ago. It was an unexpected epiphany.
Everything had contributed to it: his battle against the Knight of Azpen, pouring out his soul in that fight, the continuous sparring, the training, the contemplation, and the endless combat reviews.
Just moments ago, Encrid had felt his boiling Will surging through his body like a wave. It wasn't for nothing that the word 'wave' had appeared in his vow.
He wondered what would happen if he swung his sword in harmony with that surging, wave-like motion. If it worked as he imagined, should he call it the Wave Sword?
It wasn't only geniuses who synthesized swordsmanship through Jeong-Jung-Hwan-Kwae-Yu that could create a style. Encrid was no genius, but as everything he had achieved through sheer effort merged, something was beginning to take shape.
A swordsmanship style of his own.
The foundation lay in blending a flowing sword with a straight sword. To this, he added the technique shown by Knight Jamal that forced an absolute block, along with a touch of the swordsmanship from Aker's Spiderweb.
Distracted by his thoughts on martial arts, Encrid decided to stick with what they had always been called.
"Let's call it the Mad Knights."
"Are you serious?"
"It was originally our unit's name."
"Oh, Lord. I think this bastard is actually serious. Someone please fix his head."
He sounds just like Audin.
"My head is perfectly fine."
Krang mulled over the name a few times before nodding. Did a grand name really matter? Probably not. But how would neighboring countries react when they heard the name 'The Mad Knights'?
First, they'll ask if we're serious. Second, they'll probably curse and ask if we've actually gone insane.
That was what Krang thought. Encrid didn't care. If he were the type to be swayed by others' opinions, he wouldn't have made it this far. Besides, he figured the name of the order would naturally change over time anyway.
Just look at his own nicknames. He had gone from the Charming Squad Leader to the Demon Slayer, and finally to the Knight of the Iron Wall.
"Make sure to attend the banquet. It would be a shame if the guest of honor was missing."
A new order of knights was being founded. A single kingdom now had two orders—an event unprecedented on the continent for nearly a century. It would be a pity not to celebrate.
*
After parting ways with Krang, Encrid received the salutes of the guards, passed by Marcus and the two shell-shocked high nobles, and returned to his quarters. There, Rem sprang to his feet.
"Did you hear?"
Has word of the new order spread already? Encrid wondered. "Hear what?"
"They're calling me some noble-slaughtering psychopath, and that guy over there is a man-shredding bear-beast. The directionally challenged bastard is rumored to be a blood-crazed swordsman who kills anyone he makes eye contact with, Esther is a witch, and the elf has demon blood. The rumors are wild, but that bastard is the only one without a nickname!"
Rem spoke with animated gestures, his attitude dead serious.
As Encrid took off his coat, the maids and servants, who had been watching him with frightened eyes, stepped forward to help him undress. While this was daily life in the royal palace, it was still awkward for him.
While Encrid was shedding his clothes, Rem, not even pausing to catch his breath, spoke again. "Does this make any sense to you?"
"You're talking about Sachsen, right?"
"This is a conspiracy."
Rem seemed bored, or perhaps he had actually formed a genuine friendship with Sachsen. After all, when people became close, they tended to playfully bicker and slander each other. Of course, if Encrid said that out loud, Rem would immediately head back to the Border Guard—to swing an axe at Sachsen's neck.
"Indeed. Even the holy scriptures say not to accept an unjust situation as fate."
Seeing Audin chime in, it seemed both of them had made up their minds. They disliked their own nicknames, but the fact that one man had escaped unscathed seemed to bother them far more.
"They're holding a banquet tomorrow. Are you going?"
The talk about Sachsen was mostly a joke. Encrid wondered if it might be a good idea to clear up the minor misunderstandings that had arisen among the nobles. After all, they just needed to let people know that Rem wasn't a lunatic who split open the head of every noble he saw, and that Audin didn't tear people apart for fun.
It would be the first official appearance of the Mad Knights. He didn't care about the opinions of others, but if his men minded it this much, it wouldn't hurt to give them a chance to redeem their reputations.
"I think it would be good if we went together."
He thought that if the two of them refused, there was nothing he could do, but Rem nodded.
"Sounds good."
"I shall accompany you as well, brother."
Audin didn't decline either. As for their reasons, hearing Rem's next words made it clear he didn't even need to ask.
"I think we need to spread a rumor that there's a crazy stray cat at the Border Guard who only roams at night because he got dumped after hitting on every single woman."
Encrid briefly wondered if it was truly a good idea to bring them along, but he didn't dwell on it. Right now, he wanted to focus on the wave and the sword—the epiphany he had only just begun to grasp.