Chapter 556: Strolling Through the City
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 556: Strolling Through the City
Why was the Order of Madmen named as such?
When a peddler, who also doubled as a merchant, posed the question, his companion’s reply came without hesitation.
"Because there are actual madmen in it."
"Is it really okay to talk about them so freely?"
"Well, the stories have already spread far and wide anyway."
In the heart of the Border Guard, at the entrance of a market beginning to bustle with the morning crowd, two peddlers were chatting. The thin-lipped one, who was the more talkative of the two, did most of the speaking.
Judging by the tone, one might wonder if they were discussing some half-insane thugs, but in reality, what they shared was no great secret. It was a tale known to almost everyone in the region. Besides, the subjects of their gossip weren't standing right in front of them. Isn't it human nature to curse even a king behind his back?
"Could I hear that story in more detail?" a new voice suddenly interjected.
The talkative merchant flinched in surprise, but as he turned toward the speaker, his face twisted into a frown.
Standing there was a white-haired, blind old man who had approached without either of them noticing. He was a hunched figure, his face a map of deep wrinkles, leaning heavily on a cane.
"What do you want?"
Because the old man had approached so silently, the peddler had been startled, but seeing the man’s frail appearance, he relaxed his shoulders and grumbled.
"Hey, why are you eavesdropping on other people's—well, I suppose I can tell you."
Mid-sentence, the old man handed over a silver coin, causing the peddler to instantly change his tune.
"Well, everyone's talking about it anyway..." the peddler began, eyeing the old man.
Looking at the blind senior, he felt a twinge of guilt, as if he were ripping off a helpless elder. He stopped his grumbling and resolved to explain everything in as much detail as he knew. If he hadn't received anything, that would be one thing, but since he had been paid, it was only proper merchant etiquette to provide equal value.
"Now, listen closely. There are five madmen in total."
First, there was the madman who, after losing his parents to nobles as a child, now split open the head of any noble he saw with an axe.
"They say he has a ferocious temper, so you must be careful if you ever cross paths with him. If you see gray hair—ah, wait, never mind."
The merchant quickly changed the subject. It wasn't something to say to a blind man. After all, the man couldn't see hair color.
The merchant went on and on, distinguishing rumors from facts until his mouth ran dry. He was even more enthusiastic than before, intending to make up for his slip of the tongue.
He spoke of the bear beastman half-breed who tore people in two—a madman who told his victims to beg God for forgiveness before ripping them apart. Then there was the blood-crazed swordsman, the youngest of the order, who supposedly had to drink blood once every three days. And finally, the perverted murderer who went mad after being abandoned by a woman and now found ecstasy in stabbing people in the back.
"But rumors are just rumors. If you listen to the people who actually live in the city, they say it's all a bit exaggerated."
In reality, while they might be fierce, they weren't the type to kill people for sport.
"It's fine if rumors circulate, but honestly, nothing good comes from badmouthing them here in the Border Guard, so don't go around talking about this elsewhere."
The merchant figured this was more than enough to earn his silver coin. Although anyone could find out these things by walking around the city for a bit, it wasn't easy to get such detailed insider knowledge. The old man didn't look like a beggar, but he didn't look particularly wealthy either, and being blind, it wouldn't have been easy for him to just pick up gossip anywhere.
"No, you've got it a bit wrong."
Just as they were about to part ways, a rough-looking man passing by approached them. The merchant instinctively raised his hands in a defensive posture; the man looked ready to swing his fists at any moment.
Regardless of the merchant's reaction, the man spoke his mind.
"The Axe Madman isn't just fierce. He’s a straight-up lunatic."
There was power in his words. It carried a force born of genuine sincerity that could only come from firsthand experience, combined with a deep, bone-deep exhaustion. This lent a profound weight to every syllable.
The old man scanned the newcomer with eyes clouded by cataracts. Even though he was blind, his gaze lined up almost perfectly with the man’s face.
The man placed both hands on the merchant's shoulders. The merchant flinched, but he didn't shake them off. A burning heat radiating from the man's palms transferred to the merchant's shoulders. Even through his thick clothing, the hands felt scorching hot.
"Keep this in mind. That guy is a real psycho."
He was one of the infantrymen selected for Rem's command. Normally, he would have had no reason to leave the barracks, but Rem was a man who knew when to let his men loose. He had granted them a half-day pass. Of course, this brief pleasure was permitted only to those who excelled in training.
Naturally, desertion or running away was completely out of the question.
"Run? Go ahead, try it. I'll hunt you down myself. Anyone I catch gets double."
Double of what? Training, presumably. Or perhaps a beating. Rem had spoken without a trace of a smile, and the man—a member of the so-called Axe Unit—realized right then that he was utterly screwed.
Ah, what a life.
He had no choice but to enjoy his brief outing as much as possible before returning like a death row convict to the gallows. That was why, upon hearing someone defend that crazy bastard, he couldn't help but butt in. He simply couldn't stand by and listen to it.
"Whew."
The man withdrew his hands and turned away with a heavy sigh.
"He's a madman cursed by heaven," the man muttered as he walked off. For some reason, his steps seemed entirely devoid of energy. Even though the man had already turned his back, the merchant nodded in a daze.
"It seems not everyone is fond of them?" the old man asked slowly.
"Ah, well, he's probably a soldier. They say everyone gets like that in the early stages of training."
The merchant had heard similar stories from a guard whose face he vaguely recognized, so he passed that along as well. The old man nodded a couple of times and turned his head in another direction, where his gaze happened to lock with a hooded figure.
Clouded white eyes and blue pupils seemed to scan each other across the empty space. But the old man was blind. The hooded man felt a flicker of doubt and, curious, asked:
"Can you see?"
"I cannot."
"I see."
It was barely a conversation. The old man nodded a couple of times again; it seemed to be a habit of his.
"Well, we're busy, so..."
The merchant departed, and the old man also began to walk, tapping his cane against the ground. He moved while sweeping the tip of his cane across the stones. Although the Border Guard was currently at its peak of prosperity and crowded with people, he managed to navigate through the throng remarkably well.
The hooded man, Encrid, watched the passing old man for a moment.
He walks well.
Not many people would recognize Encrid, but knowing that recognition would inevitably bring a lot of hassle, he wore a cloak and hood whenever he went out into the city. Since many others dressed similarly, no one gave him a second look.
Yet, even though the old man who had just passed by was blind, it felt as if they had locked eyes. He was a peculiar fellow. At the same time, his presence was strangely faint. Looking at his body, there were signs of physical training, but looking again, it seemed otherwise—he was an ambiguous old man.
In any case, Encrid had come out with a purpose. He prepared to resume his walk. He intended to do so as soon as the old man, who strangely drew his attention, faded from view.
Rather than pushing through the crowded areas, it seemed better to take a slightly longer but quieter route. He had originally planned to pass through the center of the city, but the crowds were immense.
"Now, look at this leather! What is it, you ask? It's none other than the hide of a crocodile demonic beast! What's a crocodile? Wait, have I been talking to someone who doesn't even know what a crocodile is? Seriously, my friend!"
"This stone is a lucky stone! Brought all the way from the West, crafted through the prayers of dozens of shamans..."
"Buy firewood! Firewood!"
Everywhere, people were shouting with veins bulging in their necks. The spaces between buildings were packed with stalls and makeshift tents, with countless vendors screaming about their wares. This was a street where carriages couldn't even pass. On top of that, with construction materials and workers from the Architect Guild pulling mules and carts to erect new buildings, it felt more like a battlefield than a market.
Though, of course, there was no blood spilling. Usually.
"You piece of shit, I told you this is my turf, didn't I?"
"Since when is there turf here!"
Two grown men threw punches at each other. Their movements weren't trained; it was a typical dispute that broke out while selling goods. When a young man watching from behind needlessly joined the fray, a true chaotic brawl threatened to erupt.
The troubling part was that the old man with the cane was walking right into the middle of the brewing fight. If Encrid hadn't been watching, that would be one thing, but he had been keeping his eyes on him the whole time.
In a single stride, Encrid navigated through the surrounding crowd, grabbed the old man's sleeve, and spoke.
"It would be best not to go that way."
He wondered if the market was so noisy that the old man, despite having sharper hearing due to his blindness, couldn't distinguish directions by sound.
"You are kind," the old man said without even turning his head.
He seemed to know exactly who was speaking to him and who had grabbed his sleeve. Encrid couldn't help but find it fascinating. But that was the end of it. The old man changed direction and walked away, and as the commotion grew, guards rushed over.
Fweeeet!
Blowing his whistle, a guard shouted.
"Stop! That's enough! You there, put that stone down! If someone dies, you're dead too. Cut it out if you don't want to be dragged to court."
The approaching guards skillfully broke up the fight. They were three well-trained, fully armed soldiers. There was no room for clumsy brawlers to resist. After the fight was broken up, only lingering agitation remained.
"Some drifter from another city..."
"Oh, and I suppose you're a Border Guard native?"
The two merchants were still huffing, unable to cool their anger, and a few young men standing behind them looked much the same.
Encrid recalled what Krais had said a few days ago regarding the things that naturally happen when people gather: conflicts tied to factions. One side consisted of those who had settled in the Border Guard long ago, while the other was made up of recent immigrants. Relations between the two were poor.
Apparently, some who came from the capital banded together, while certain southern nobles of Naurilia who had moved to the city formed their own cliques. Krais had mentioned that these factions and their bickering were causing quite a headache. It was a natural consequence when people crowded into a small piece of land, struggling desperately to secure their own profits.
Among them, some didn't care about factions at all, some watched from a distance, and some even tried to play tricks using these factions.
It's not exactly playing tricks, but someone like Vanessa would be perfect for this.
Vanessa, a native, had expanded her inn, opened a new restaurant, and recently even started a cafeteria. They said the blended pumpkin drink sold there was incredibly delicious, but Encrid hadn't been able to try it yet. The line was simply too long.
It wasn't as if he could step forward and declare, "I am the Madman Knight Commander of the Border Guard." There were probably ways to get it if he really wanted to, but Encrid wasn't particularly greedy when it came to food. He liked delicious meals, but he didn't go out of his way to chase them.
In any case, whenever people gathered, problems were bound to arise. What he had just witnessed was merely one of those issues.
Will it fester if left alone?
He didn't know. Even Encrid had never seen a city this bustling before. The Border Guard had developed at a breakneck pace, clearly widening the gap with neighboring cities. Even several master bakers from Martai had immigrated, and people from Cross Guard, a city of Azpen, were crossing over to the Border Guard.
As the city developed, lords who oppressed their nearby subjects found themselves with no ground to stand on. Naturally, some of the surrounding nobles wanted to submit to Encrid's command in the Border Guard, but since he wouldn't accept them, they decided to become direct territories of the royal family instead. In other words, strength had been added to the crown.
Regardless, the gates of the Border Guard were always open, never turning away those who came. If he recalled Krais's words correctly, they still hadn't met the labor demands for Greenpearl.
After recalling the passing remarks he had overheard, Encrid watched the guards responsible for public security for a moment before heading toward a quieter street. The situation from earlier wasn't particularly pleasant, but there was no reason to let it ruin his mood.
Encrid left the central district and passed through several alleys. In the past, there had been the stench of filth, but thanks to recent urban redevelopment, the alleys were now wide and clean. Here and there, he also spotted individuals who appeared to be members of the Gilpin Guild.
"How far are we moving this?"
A human man, whose appearance was so striking that he could easily be called a handsome Frok despite the three scars on his face, was carrying a box of fruit. Judging by his appearance, attire, and the dagger at his waist, he was indeed from the Gilpin Guild. A black square emblem was engraved on the hilt of the dagger.
He had heard that the guild had recently decided on an emblem for everyone to carry. These were the ones who guarded the city's nights, sharing the responsibility of maintaining public order alongside the Border Guard standing army.
As Encrid entered the alley, those among the guild members with sharp senses briefly looked his way, but they only observed and did not try to pick a fight.
Emerging from the alley, he came upon an open road. Walking along the path paved with solid stone, Encrid looked up at the piercingly blue sky.
It was a cloudless day. The weather made walking while looking up at the sky a true pleasure. The wind was cool, and the sunlight was warm. Encrid walked at a leisurely pace, his footsteps tapping softly. Giving one's best in everything didn't have to mean living life in a rushed sprint, gasping for breath.
In that sense, this road was truly a pleasure to walk.