Chapter 552: Viscount Harrison
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 552: Viscount Harrison
When Encrid and his two companions stepped inside, the entrance to the banquet hall seemed to shrink, and the room was instantly stifled by their presence.
Some nobles saw a literal halo radiating from them, while others felt a creeping sense of foreboding. If the man standing at the lead truly made up his mind, wouldn't it take him mere moments to slaughter everyone in the room?
After all, wasn't one of his companions known as the Noble Killer?
Of course, such anxiety was felt by only a few. The vast majority were too busy staring in awe and admiration.
Would it be an exaggeration to say that power radiated from their every step? Hardly. A single step from these men could change the course of history. This was the aura of heroes who had reshaped the landscape of the continent.
In truth, they were simply walking, but because their legend preceded them, their striking appearances only magnified their overwhelming presence. Encrid, Rem, and Audin had done nothing more than enter normally.
They're here.
One of the nobles clenched his fist as he watched Encrid enter. This was a moment that demanded firm resolve.
The man was completely bald, lean and muscular, with sun-bronzed skin and dark-stained fingernails. If he changed his clothes, he could easily pass for a farmer rather than a lord. Yet, his presence here, dressed in a worn but respectable tailcoat, was proof enough of his status.
Feeling the rough texture of the fabric, the noble tugged at his collar.
The Mad Knights...
He couldn't help but marvel anew at the absurd name they had given their order.
This bald noble was one of those who had denounced Encrid in the grand hall, arguing fiercely that they needed to rein in his excessive power, starting with an oath of loyalty. From the moment Encrid entered, the noble could not tear his eyes away.
In truth, he was far from the only one. Everyone was staring. In particular, the noblewomen and unwed ladies looked completely dazed, their gazes turning glassy.
Was it any wonder? Not in the slightest. The moment Encrid stepped inside, he drew every eye in the room like a magnet. If beauty were a blade, this was the moment Encrid’s greatest weapon truly shone.
His jet-black hair, lightly oiled, caught the light of the chandeliers, gleaming with a rich, healthy luster. While standards of beauty vary, everyone tends to agree when confronted with something truly exceptional.
Encrid's face was exactly that.
His sharp nose, brilliantly clear blue eyes, and perfectly set lips—everything was in flawless harmony. He looked as though a god had briefly descended to earth to sculpt and bless him by hand.
Even the bald noble couldn't help but think the same. He was truly, breathtakingly handsome.
"Ah..."
Just two steps away from the bald noble, a woman holding a wine glass let out a soft gasp. The group directly opposite her was no different. Their eyes were glazed over, looking as though they might start drooling if left unattended.
"Is that a moving sculpture?" some muttered.
Others seemed to have forgotten how to speak entirely, staring in a daze. At least half of the ladies in the hall were likely experiencing that once-in-a-lifetime phenomenon of falling in love at first sight. It was as if he had cast a bewitching charm over the entire room.
"Is this magic?" The question slipped out naturally.
Even for those who hadn't fallen in love, it was nigh impossible to look away. The bald noble agreed. He had known the man was exceptionally handsome when he saw him at the palace, but now that he had dressed with intent—hair neatly groomed and clad in a sharp tailcoat—his appearance commanded the absolute attention of men and women alike.
While a few men showed immediate jealousy, the vast majority felt any sense of rivalry instantly evaporate. How could one compete with that?
Among the crowd was a female Frok, who possessed both the boldness and the initiative to act. She stepped forward to strike up a conversation.
"Do you happen to know any Frok?"
Her sudden intervention shattered the collective spell holding the room captive. As the silence broke, a low murmur began to ripple through the crowd.
"Who did you say he was?"
"Didn't they say they're the Mad Knights?"
"Ah, the... the Demon Slayer."
Whispers flew back and forth. In the capital, his reputation as the Demon Slayer still overshadowed his title as the Knight of the Iron Wall. It seemed the former title rolled off the tongue much more easily for most.
If a real demon had been hiding in the hall, it would have found the title absurd, given that Encrid had never actually slain a demon. Of course, even if a real demon appeared to protest, Encrid would have simply shrugged it off.
I never asked anyone to call me that, so what do you want me to do about it? he would likely say.
"There is a Frok named Luagarne, who used to be at the palace," the gray-haired man standing beside Encrid answered in his stead.
Though the man looked slightly different from the rumors, the bald noble recognized him instantly. Gray hair was not a common trait.
The Noble Killer.
Observing his indifferent tone and casual attitude toward the Frok, there was no hint of the violent madman rumored to throw fists at the mere sight of a noble. To begin with, the bald noble hadn't believed those rumors blindly.
What? He beats up nobles on sight and has to decapitate one periodically to satisfy his urges?
While many had indeed died by his hand, none of them had likely died without cause. If he were truly a bloodthirsty maniac who slaughtered nobles out of sheer hatred, he wouldn't be standing there now, right beside a hero like Encrid.
Still, the reason behind his nickname was clear, making him undoubtedly the most dangerous man in the room. Yet, even standing beside a knight commander blessed with divine looks, this dangerous element did not fade into the background.
Just as a savory dish and a sweet one offer different delights, he exuded a distinct charm of his own right next to the Demon Slayer. His neck-length gray hair was neatly combed, half-tied and half-loose. His jaw was angular, and his features were sharp enough that he would easily stand out in any other crowd. It was simply that the man standing next to him was far too exceptional. In any case, he possessed a rugged, masculine charm that was highly attractive in its own right.
"Sister, you already have too many rivals. Pray, restrain yourself."
Beside him, a man of towering height chimed in. His forearms looked thicker than the bald noble's own waist. Indeed, they were thicker than the waist of any lady tightly bound in a corset. Just standing still, he gave off the imposing presence of a mountain.
The Bear Beastman.
Rumors were merely rumors, after all. Seeing no beastman traits on him whatsoever, he was clearly human. Judging by his manner of speech, he seemed deeply religious. His shoulders were so impossibly broad they hardly seemed human, his neck resembled a thick log, and his chest threatened to burst through his shirt. With dense muscle packed onto his frame, even his simplest gestures carried an overwhelming weight.
Furthermore, quite a few in the hall preferred a massive, imposing physique over classical good looks, and their eyes naturally drifted to him after admiring Encrid.
"I'd love to be held by him just once."
"I bet I could swing from those arms."
"Look at the size of his thighs..."
Though they whispered, the bald noble was close enough to hear every word. The man nicknamed the Bear Beastman carried himself with humility, but his sheer physical presence could not be suppressed. Even standing beside Encrid, he was impossible to ignore.
The three of them possessed strikingly distinct presences.
Having thrown the hall into a cycle of clamor, stunned silence, and renewed murmurs, the trio made their way inside and found a spot to stand. The bald noble, who had watched them from the moment they entered, stared at Encrid and drifted into reminiscence.
Ever since he had openly opposed the man, he had prepared himself for the possibility that today might be his last. Perhaps that was why his mind was wandering to the past.
"What is the most important thing in the world? It is the land."
It was his father's teaching. Agreeing with that philosophy, he had managed his territory in the exact same manner.
Why does the land come first? Because without land, how are the people supposed to feed themselves? Do knights not eat? Do they not bleed? Are they not human?
In that regard, he had simply wished for the kingdom to act as a shield, protecting him and his land. That was all. He harbored no malice. He, too, recognized Encrid as the hero who had brought an end to the civil war.
But if I tell him I meant no harm, will he simply accept it?
Though this was his first time seeing the knight in person, he understood human nature. No one could look kindly upon someone who had openly rejected and shunned them. He would be lucky if the man didn't harbor a grudge.
Yet, were there not men of exceptional caliber who rose above such petty grievances? There were. He had met such a person once before. The king he currently served was exactly that kind of man. Was that not why he had sworn his loyalty?
The noble slipped his hand into his breast pocket. Feeling a hard object, he slid it discreetly into his sleeve and began to approach. It would not do for anyone else to notice it first.
"This is a scam. If you're that good at fighting, you shouldn't be allowed to look like that. You should at least look rugged. Small eyes and a snub nose would be much more appropriate."
Although Marcus, the king's closest confidant, grumbled playfully at them while others stole glances, the banquet's atmosphere quickly returned to normal. Guests resumed their chatter, and wine flowed once more. Naturally, a crowd quickly gathered around the Mad Knights, who remained the absolute center of attention.
Pushing past the onlookers, the bald noble approached and stared intently at Encrid. His hand remained hidden in his sleeve. Sensing the gaze, Encrid turned to look at him.
Encrid would not have forgotten the face of the man who had so openly denounced him in the palace.
"I have something to give you," the noble spoke as he stepped closer. Marcus and the surrounding guests immediately locked their eyes onto him.
"Viscount Harrison."
Andrew Gardner, the king's close aide, recognized him and spoke. His gaze was sharp, silently demanding to know what business he had here.
Ignoring Andrew's glare, Viscount Harrison took another step toward Encrid. Then, swiftly pulling his hand from his sleeve, he thrust it toward Encrid's chest. It was an incredibly swift movement for an ordinary man.
* * *
"Don't hold too much of a grudge against him."
"Against whom?"
Krang had said this just after the oath ceremony concluded. Encrid had blinked in surprise and asked back.
"That noble from earlier. He didn't mean any harm."
"Again, who are you talking about?"
Encrid harbored no malice toward them to begin with. The nobles? He simply accepted them for what they were. He could roughly understand their perspective. Besides, in this day and age, it was only natural for people to doubt titles like "Demon Slayer" unless they witnessed the deeds with their own eyes. If one believed every rumor, there was even a priest who had defeated a giant in arm wrestling. Such tales were always prone to exaggeration.
Of course, in Encrid's case, too many people had witnessed his feats firsthand for them to be easily dismissed. No one would dare cross him lightly. It would require an extraordinary amount of courage to do so. To oppose Encrid now meant, on a small scale, making enemies of the nobles who supported him, and on a larger scale, standing against the king himself.
Yet, they had still raised their voices about the danger of knights and opposed him. Was it simply because they disliked him? It didn't seem that simple. While some were merely fools, others had stood their ground because they held genuine convictions.
When it came to the experience of living in pursuit of dreams, convictions, and the light, Encrid was perhaps unmatched on the entire continent. Thus, he could tell at a glance that some of those nobles had stood there fully prepared to speak their minds, even if it meant facing a blade or falling out of the king's favor.
When Encrid continued to play dumb as a half-joke, Krang laughed.
"It's a miracle you've survived this long. With that attitude, you should have died dozens of times over by now."
Encrid nodded in agreement. He had never died because of his attitude, but he had indeed died thousands of times.
"Why are you nodding? At any rate, one of those men is actually the person most eager to work with the Border Guard right now. He wants to use his accumulated wealth to secure a Safe Road."
The Safe Road established by Krais split into two main routes. One led toward the capital of Nauril, while the other bypassed Martai. If the route bypassing Martai were to extend further south... every lord with territory in that region would stand to benefit immensely.
Who among them would benefit the most? Perhaps the lords of the trade cities? While they would certainly profit, there was someone who desired the Safe Road far more desperately than any of them.
A noble who had long dreamed of cultivating the wild lands beyond his city walls—his name was Harrison. Having made tilling the earth his life's purpose, it was only natural that he had been instantly captivated by the Border Guard's method of establishing outposts and deploying troops to secure the surrounding wilderness.
Encrid had sensed Viscount Harrison's approach from the moment the man began moving. Having seen him in the palace and now seeing him again, nothing about the man seemed to have changed. He was still a man of worn, frayed clothing and a stern, stubborn countenance. Yet, though his clothes were old, they were clean and meticulously kept; neither his attire nor his bearing breached the bounds of etiquette. It was the mark of a man deeply accustomed to a frugal life.
Encrid did not know where Krais's Safe Road was slated to expand, nor did he know what the man before him truly desired. He simply held his gaze because their eyes had met. Looking into Viscount Harrison's eyes, Encrid was reminded of a solid, unyielding stone.
If one could not wield Will, did that mean their resolve was utterly useless? If someone claimed that a lack of talent meant one's limits were already set, should they simply stop there? Should they abandon everything they had worked for? Should they surrender just because others deemed their dreams impossible? Even when that verdict was not their own, but merely the judgment of others? Must they truly submit to it?
Harrison stepped forward and slipped something into Encrid's coat. It was, of course, neither a weapon nor an assassination attempt. With his sharp dynamic vision, Encrid instantly recognized the object: a small glass bottle that fit perfectly in the palm of a hand, its mouth plugged with a cork and sealed tightly with wrapped twine.
He allowed the gesture to happen. Having slipped the bottle into Encrid's pocket, Viscount Harrison spoke.
"I was terribly rude earlier. Please accept this as an apology."
Encrid did not ask what was inside the bottle. Instead, he posed a different question.
"Is there something you want from me?"
Perhaps due to his baldness, the man looked at least twenty years older than Encrid. Viscount Harrison blinked in surprise at the direct question before slowly opening his mouth.
"Consider it a bribe... No, indeed, it is a bribe. Can you direct the Safe Road toward my territory?"
Harrison spoke without a shred of shame, displaying the stubborn resolve of a man who had lived a long, hard life. Normally, one would ask "why," or perhaps demand a steeper price. Yet, Encrid did not even ask what he had just been given.
"Very well."
He simply nodded. It was an answer that completely defied Harrison's expectations.
"...You aren't even going to ask why?" Harrison asked, thoroughly bewildered.
"If you wish to tell me, I will listen."
It was a decision made solely on his assessment of the man's character. He had judged based on the man's eyes, his bearing, and his attire. What if it proved to be the wrong choice? Life was a continuous series of choices, and one could not always be right. Encrid understood that fundamental truth of life better than anyone.
Thus, he felt no fear in making a choice. To hesitate out of fear was to remain frozen in place. Had he been that kind of man, he would have long since remained trapped in the "happy today" offered by the Ferryman.
Moreover, Encrid recognized a familiar spark in the man standing before him. Though taken aback, Harrison spoke the words he had carried in his heart for so long, his voice steady.
"I intend to till the land."