Chapter 557: Because They Fight Crazy Well
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 557: Because They Fight Crazy Well
The city center bustled with life, but the path Encrid walked was quiet, with few people in sight.
Though the atmosphere was a stark contrast to the busy streets, Encrid enjoyed the silence. A butterfly fluttered past his eyes, showing off vibrant red wings. Beside the path lay a long, continuous flowerbed. Such beds had been planted all over the city, and the yellow and orange blossoms blooming within them caught his eye.
They were beautiful.
It was Holy Gold, known as the flower of the Holy Mother. It didn't actually possess divinity; that was simply its meaning in the language of flowers. It was said to be a flower blessed by God to represent the beauty existing on earth. Thus, Holy Gold symbolized not only the Holy Mother but also saints and saintesses—those born with divinity through God's direct blessing.
A few maple trees stood before the flowerbed. Red-dyed leaves fluttered down, scattering across the ground.
It was a wonderful path to walk. Newly paved on the outskirts of the city, there were no commercial facilities in sight. Instead, he could see members of the Architect Guild and various artisans working here and there to construct buildings. Even that seemed like just another part of the scenery.
What was peace? Was it not simply living today and fully savoring happiness? The atmosphere was lyrical enough to evoke such thoughts. It was a beautiful path, built on a scale rarely seen in rural cities.
Encrid walked on until he reached his destination.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The loud, rhythmic striking of a hammer marked the place—the blacksmith's workshop.
Stepping through the small entrance, which required him to duck slightly, the interior came into view all at once. Along with it came a wave of intense heat that pushed back the cool breeze. Though the space had expanded compared to before, not much else had changed.
Gray ash, black soot, a blazing forge in their midst, and bellows caught his eye. And there was a man who looked like a natural part of that scenery.
“Eitri.”
Encrid called out in greeting, and the man reacted.
“You've come.”
Eitri, sitting before the forge, merely turned his head to meet Encrid's gaze.
“How is it?”
Following the battle with Azpen, Encrid had recovered all the weapons used by the enemy knights. Naturally, he had selectively brought back only the imprinted weapons. Since they were crafted with precious metals and advanced smelting techniques, they were undoubtedly highly valuable items, yet Encrid had handed them all over to Eitri.
They were for research and experimentation.
“I cannot forge imprinted weapons right away,” Eitri said abruptly, his tone firm.
“It doesn't matter.”
Encrid intended to entrust his weapon to a man who harbored a dream. That was already decided, and he had no intention of changing his mind. In a way, Encrid was stubbornly persistent to a fault. Everyone around him knew that. If one were to ask Sinar, she would likely give a similar answer.
“Then, will you tell me what you have realized, Lord Encrid?” Eitri asked.
This was Eitri's request. He wanted to know what Encrid had learned and experienced through combat. He wanted to know about the application of Will, Encrid's state of mind, and the changes that had occurred in the meantime.
As he listened, Eitri examined Encrid's palms and asked about his sword-handling habits. As Encrid spoke, he realized that the blacksmith before him also possessed considerable martial skill. The depth of his questions and answers was extraordinary.
“You know how to use a sword, don't you?”
“I can handle most weapons to some degree. I learned because it was necessary for the process of crafting and testing them.”
“Do you train separately?”
“No, only as much as necessary.”
Eitri possessed talent as well. However, because his desire could only be fulfilled through the heat radiating from fire and iron, he focused his efforts there. Imprinted weapons were named as such because they were weapons onto which Will was engraved. Thus, such a process might indeed be necessary.
Is it like that for everyone?
Encrid was briefly curious, but he did not ask. It wasn't what was important. No matter what others did or how things had been done in the past, Eitri had found his own way and had chosen to walk it with him. That was enough.
What if he failed? That, too, was simply something Encrid would have to bear. Since it was a path he had already chosen and embarked upon—one he did not feel was wrong—the only thing left to show was trust.
“Do you trust me?” Eitri asked in the middle of their conversation, as if reading his thoughts.
“I don't know,” Encrid replied honestly.
Neither of them laughed; they simply went about their business. Eitri remained calm. It might have been a moment he had secretly anticipated, but he showed no outward sign of it. The same went for Encrid.
“Let's begin, then.”
At Encrid's words, Eitri dragged his chair back with a scrape and straightened his posture. It was the posture of an attentive listener; this man, too, knew how to truly listen.
Or rather, is he just focusing on the parts he needs?
That was likely the case.
“I've learned quite a few things,” Encrid continued, speaking as if making casual conversation.
Before long, the Frok sculptor also approached and stood beside Eitri. Since he hadn't given up on his dream, he seemed to still be training. As Encrid spoke, Eitri nodded from time to time. Even if he couldn't comprehend everything, it was enough to grasp the general sense of the abstract concepts. To achieve this, Eitri asked questions repeatedly, verifying the information by comparing it to what he had learned and practiced.
He, too, had gained insights from the process of melting down and dismantling imprinted weapons with his hammer. Soon, the Frok sculptor chimed in between the two of them. It was an unexpected encounter for Encrid, but he found it enjoyable. Though they were not men who wielded swords in earnest, they were individuals who did not waste a single day and gave their absolute best.
As Encrid listened, he found himself realizing and learning many things as well.
The three of them conversed until the sun set and the moon rose. When Encrid finally prepared to leave late into the night, Eitri spoke.
“Use this. It would be best if you stopped using that gladius.”
Encrid did not question him. At Eitri's word, his apprentice brought out a shortsword. Its blade was moderately thick, and its length was slightly shorter than a gladius. Lifting it to check its balance, he felt a distinct heft to it.
“I mixed in some Ink Gold,” Eitri said, watching him.
“I will put it to good use.”
The cost and compensation had likely already been handled by Krais. Encrid had already instructed him to support Eitri after hearing about the blacksmith's dream.
Encrid stepped outside. A bright moon hung in the cloudless sky. Looking up at the full moon, Encrid chewed over the conversation they had just shared and reflected on the day's events. There was no sudden, lightning-like realization in his mind.
Did I drive myself too hard with the obsession that I must do my best every single day?
It was merely a passing thought.
And so, another identical day began. Though he walked through the city and observed various sights, nothing had changed. Just as before, he consistently swung his sword. After meeting Eitri, he listened to more about imprinted weapons, dedicated himself to training once again, signed necessary documents, and received letters.
It was a letter from Anu, the King of the East, whom he hadn't heard from in quite a while. Looking at the contents, it seemed the rumors had spread all the way to the East.
- The Knight of the Iron Wall? Is that really you? What on earth did you do? I'm curious, so write back with the details. Oh, and the one you sent is still alive. Though she might die soon. And the Order of Madness? What a fitting name. Since you're all crazy bastards.
Well, he wasn't wrong. Excluding himself, it was safe to say everyone else was a madman. One could tell just by listening to the rumors. The letter carried a faint scent of blood, and the handwriting was a messy scrawl. It looked as though it had been hastily scribbled in the middle of a fight.
Encrid wrote a reply. Since he saw no reason to write at length, it was incredibly brief.
- It just turned out that way. Dunchabel is not a beastman who dies easily.
It was while he was spending his time writing letters and swinging his sword once more that Rem, who was carefully wiping his axe blade on one side of the training ground, asked a question.
“But why did you name us the Order of Madness?”
Encrid didn't believe all the rumors, but he didn't think the people under his command were normal either. It was the same thought he had held when replying to Anu's letter.
At Rem's question, Ragna, Sachsen, Audin, Teresa, Ropode, and even Pel pricked up their ears. Even Luagarne rolled her large eyes, looking over as she opened her mouth. Seeing her let out a low croak of doubt, it seemed the unique curiosity of the Frok had been piqued.
Luagarne puffed out her cheeks and said, “Yes, I was curious about that too.”
Encrid briefly pondered. Is it right to call a crazy person crazy to their face?
Probably not. Therefore, Encrid could not bring himself to speak the honest truth.
“Because you fight crazy well.”
His voice lacked a bit of strength. Still, his meaning was clear, and the message was delivered perfectly. Rem, acknowledging the point, nodded.
“That's true.”
Just as Krang had said, everyone, including Encrid, nodded. Because it did seem to be true.
After that, Encrid spent his time swinging his sword, meditating, and manipulating his Will to try various things until sunset, when Krais came to find him. He had a face that said he had a lot to say. At least, that was how it looked to Encrid. Traces of worry and anguish were plain on Krais's face.
* * *
Krais judged that he was currently at a crossroads.
Now, let's think.
He had two paths before him. One was to continue living as he did now, and the other was to throw everything away and flee to some remote corner of the Empire.
What did living like this entail? A life where I might die from poison at any moment, or get struck down by an arrow.
Then what about throwing everything away and running? Hiding away somewhere and living out a quiet, peaceful life.
To be honest, the latter wasn't exactly the life he desired either. But the risk was low. Would Nurat follow him? She wouldn't. In other words, he had to abandon everything he currently possessed and leave.
That's the right choice.
In exchange, his chances of dying would drop significantly. There would be no more headache-inducing troubles like the ones he faced now. That was enough. Wanting to live a short and intense life was what was crazy. Wasn't life meant to be lived long, comfortably, and with a moderate amount of enjoyment? He could just open a salon in some corner of a city and live a decent life.
Krais was different from the others. He knew that better than anyone.
I am perfectly normal.
He didn't fit the name “Order of Madness” at all. That was why.
Let's give up.
Krais could see, to some extent, what was about to unfold on the continent. Fire and iron, blood, the boundary between life and death, monsters and demonic beasts—in the end, the anxiety would drive him mad. To calculate all of that and search for a way to survive every single time?
It might be faster for Ragna to complete a journey around the continent.
A world drenched in blood was coming. It was bound to happen. Even so, things had reached a point where he couldn't just tell Encrid to take it easy, back out, and live well on their own.
Is there a place for me here?
There would be a place, surely. The tasks requiring his help would be overflowing. But by that same token, he would become close friends with death. In the end, he might have to hold hands with death and cross the river to that far-off world.
A firm resolve established itself in his heart. The Captain had erected a wall with his Will, or so they said. Krais himself had now established a resolve of equal magnitude. He had agonized over it for days without even being able to tell Nurat, and the moment his decision was made, he sought out Encrid.
“Captain.”
It was the hour of dusk, when the sunset crumbled and the orange glow faded beyond the mountains. One might call it a deep blue darkness—as if the sun, in its final struggle, had scattered traces of light to weave a blue-tinted gloom.
Amidst that darkness, two blue eyes that looked straight ahead, upright and unwavering, gazed at him. The owner of those eyes would never bend his will, no matter what happened. Even looking into the Captain's eyes, Krais knew his resolve did not waver.
This is no place for someone like me to get involved.
The continent would burn. The war with Azpen was not the issue. He had somehow managed to set the stage up to this point, but he could no longer handle what was to come. Krais stood here because he had reached his limit.
The recent internal strife and factional issues within the city, along with countless other problems cropping up, felt like they had slipped beyond his grasp. He didn't even feel regret. His capacity was simply only this much.
Well, maybe a little regret. After all, he was curious to see how far Encrid would go. But to Krais, his own dreams, his life, and his survival were more important. Nothing was more important than that.
This is as far as I go.
Encrid had become a knight. A fruit borne of never stopping and pushing forward; having at least witnessed this much, Krais felt no lingering attachments.
“Is something troubling you?” Encrid asked.
Krais shook his head. “It's not really a worry.”
It was a matter that had already been decided. His eyes were dull, his voice raspy. His appearance was far from neat. Encrid knew that Krais had been heavily overburdened with work recently. Some of it was work Encrid should have done himself, and some of it wasn't something Encrid could resolve even if he stepped in.
In times like this, shouldn't he offer some encouragement?
“While traveling back and forth this time, I heard about Krang's ambitions.”
Ambitions? Krais wasn't particularly curious, but since things had already come to this, he figured he might as well hear him out before saying what he came to say.
“Even the Empire and the great nations were within Krang's grand design.”
The Demon Realm, the Empire, the great nations, the cultists. The scale was simply too massive.
As expected, this is no place for me.
His resolve remained unshaken.
“He said we could build salons in the Empire and the great nations as well.”
Encrid spoke, and Krais experienced an earthquake. That is to say, he was shaken. Not in body, but in heart.