Chapter 609: I've Made a Friend
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 609: I've Made a Friend
Hearing the unnamed crusader's question, Ropode glanced at him. He politely stepped aside to let a leopard pass, then showed the crusader the emblem embroidered on his cloak.
It was a single, jagged line. It represented a fortress wall—the Iron Wall.
"Do you recognize this?" he asked.
It was an emblem hard to miss. If anyone asked who had set the continent ablaze recently, the answer would point directly to its owner. Even if one lived in total isolation, fighting cultists with closed ears, it was impossible to ignore a name of this magnitude.
"The Border Guard?"
The crusader blinked, a look of pure shock crossing his face. Just as he suspected, it was indeed the emblem of the Border Guard. And right beside it was another emblem, one that symbolized Encrid.
Ropode lifted his cloak to reveal that one as well.
It was a crest depicting a pitch-black shape with a single line slashing right through it. It symbolized the severing of the Demon Realm—the emblem of the Order of Madness.
Upon seeing it for the first time, one of the nobles of Naurilia had once asked, "Does this mean you'll just slash first and ask questions later if things go south?"
"Do you know this one too? It's the only order of knights within the Border Guard."
Though Ropode had seen their influence growing rapidly while working abroad, they were currently far outside the Border Guard's sovereign territory. He spoke assuming the man might not recognize it, but—
"The Order of Madness?"
The answer came instantly. Though they had originally named themselves the "Madman's Knights," the public had taken to calling them the "Order of Madness." The meaning was essentially the same, so it didn't particularly matter. In some regions, they were even called the Knights of the Iron Wall. Ropode had experienced this firsthand.
"Yes. I am Squire Ropode."
Ropode revealed his identity. Though his actual skills were on par with an Associate Knight, he chose to remain a squire.
The title of "Knight" had originally begun as a noble rank, but it had evolved into a symbol of martial power—a collective term for those who could wield Will. The status of Associate Knight carried a similar symbolic weight, but to Ropode, such titles were of little importance now.
That didn't mean he lacked a sense of belonging or pride. This was enough for him.
A squire of the Order of Madness.
That was exactly how Ropode defined himself. Even if his captain, Encrid, called himself an Associate Knight, Ropode would remain a squire until he was fully satisfied and ready to accept a higher title.
Looking at it that way, a touch of madness had clearly taken root in Ropode as well.
Since he was a squire, Ropode felt it was only right to introduce his companion accordingly. He gestured with an open palm toward the man beside him.
"And this is our guest soldier, Pel."
In truth, a formal order of knights shouldn't have a mere soldier in its ranks, but who cared? To Ropode, the man was just a soldier. At least, that was how he chose to see it. Pel retorted without a trace of a smile.
"Since when is a squire ranked higher than a soldier?"
"Maybe in some backwater wilderness, but not on the continent, soldier."
"Oh? A mere squire talking back to me?"
As the two growled at each other, a half-giant woman with a gentle expression smiled and spoke up.
"You don't need to worry, Brother. They won't go around slashing or harming just anyone."
Her massive frame, clearly that of a half-giant, caught the eye first, but a closer look revealed she was a remarkably beautiful woman. Of course, her face was the last thing on the crusader's mind right now.
"Ah..."
The unnamed crusader of the Heresy Purging Priests stood with his mouth agape. He was utterly speechless.
The Order of Madness?
They were the ones currently on everyone's lips across the continent. Why were they here? His mind swirled with questions. What could they possibly want?
Everyone moved for profit. Even if he, an unnamed crusader, did not, it was only natural for others to do so. It was only natural to wonder. And besides, anyone in their right mind would want to ask: Why on earth are they here?
Intervening in this conflict meant stepping directly into the Holy City-State's civil war. Moreover, the bastards gathered outside were screaming at the top of their lungs that they had received a divine revelation declaring Noah's monastery a den of demons.
Of course, even if no one believed those words, when those with power spoke, a small monastery had no way to resist. Indeed, even if they managed to survive with their help, they could easily be branded as minions of the devil if things went wrong. They would have to bear that infamy long after the battle was over.
Knowing this, hadn't he himself come to this monastery prepared to throw his life away?
"Before purging heresy, I thought about what I truly wanted to do. It was to pray for those who have been wronged."
With those final words, the unnamed crusader had left his order and remained here. Even so, he had to pray under the moon every night to steel his resolve. Walking into the jaws of death knowing he would die was never easy on the mind.
Yet, his solemn resolve felt utterly eclipsed by their presence.
What is with this casual attitude?
They had entered nonchalantly and strolled through the city as if nothing were amiss. Watching them, he felt a sense of absurdity.
They growled at each other, hummed tunes, and a gray-haired barbarian grumbled about why they had to do this in the freezing cold, while the guy next to him asked where the main gate was. Why he was asking that after climbing over the wall himself was completely beyond comprehension.
Meanwhile, there was a leopard walking along one side, and another man who wore the same cloak as the rest of the group but walked apart, claiming he didn't care. What was wrong with these people?
Watching all of this left him with an indescribable feeling. Why did it feel so ridiculous?
There was only one reason: they showed absolutely no sense of crisis.
That was what made his grim resolve feel so trivial. And that was why he was so bewildered.
*
"We have starved for two days," Noah said, brewing tea with his skeletal hands. Encrid accepted the cup and took a sip.
Having tasted and frequently enjoyed fine tea in the past thanks to Marcus, he knew the tea he was drinking now was far from expensive. As their two-day fast made clear, the monastery's circumstances were dire. It was a wonder they had any tea to offer at all.
However, as Marcus used to say:
"Does an expensive price tag make a tea good? Not at all. What truly makes a tea great is who is sitting across from you, and how you spend that moment. If you drink with someone you hate, even the most expensive tea tastes like swill."
Those were the words Marcus had grumbled on his way to have tea with his father. Had he complained like that just because he didn't want to go, regardless of how expensive the tea was?
Recalling that memory, Encrid decided the tea he was drinking now tasted quite decent. It had a pleasant astringency, and a subtle aroma lingered in his mouth. It was a dried flower tea, and because it wasn't a blend, it had a strong, dry aftertaste, but it was more than good enough.
"I am deeply grateful that you have come, but you must understand our current situation," Noah spoke again. He was serious, and entirely sincere.
On his way here, Encrid had anticipated how most people would react to his arrival. An ordinary person would have thanked him profusely and then begged him to save their lives by any means necessary. They would have fallen to their knees or made empty promises they couldn't keep just to survive. Or they might have begged him to save at least themselves, asking him to rescue a select few.
But occasionally, there existed humans who could not be so easily measured.
Noah opened his dry, chapped lips. A hint of blood showed through the cracks. The parched, split skin looked as though it would rupture again at the slightest movement. The monastery's current plight was written clearly on his lips—a situation that, at any moment, could rupture and bleed out.
"We have already been marked as scapegoats. If you stay here, you will be branded as children of the devil just like us. Not only by those outside who call the Gray their god, but also by those coming from the Holy City-State."
There really are a lot of crazy bastards in this world, Encrid thought.
Worrying about others in a situation like this? But then, Noah had always been this kind of man. Though he had escaped with only a blinded eye and a ruined ear, he was the very man who had saved Seiki knowing full well that his path would end in death—and a death by torture, at that.
"Thinking back, Uncle Noah seemed a bit broken. Though I was the one who took advantage of that."
That had been Seiki's assessment of him as well.
What Noah was saying now amounted to this: It is dangerous. This will only bring you harm.
Encrid decided this man was easily a madman in his own right.
Noah spoke again. Encrid simply listened, sipping his hot tea in quiet, attentive silence.
"If it is at all possible, could you save at least the children? The monks and I have all resolved to remain at the monastery. Yes... this must be penance for my past sins."
He smiled with genuine warmth. It was a smile born of the hope that at least the children could be saved, that a few might have a future.
The situation was dire. How could a man smile so brightly while asking someone to flee and save only the children?
Encrid stared intently at Noah. After enduring such torture and suffering, one's eyes would normally grow dull and lifeless, but his had not. His eyes were truly different. Though he had lost one of his eyes, the remaining one shone like a star in the night sky.
A mere monastery, a mere few dozen people. Had someone called this a fight with nothing to gain?
How could there be nothing to gain?
He was here to save a man who was a true saint, among those who judged saints solely by the presence of divine power.
Do not abandon your neighbor in times of poverty.
Do not push others aside to gather fallen fruit.
If there was a man who lived by every single word spoken in the holy scriptures, wouldn't it be entirely fitting to call him a saint?
"Let's be friends," Encrid said.
"...Pardon?"
"Drop the formalities. Let's be friends starting today."
He set down his teacup and ran a hand through his hair, shaking out the dust that clung to his black locks. Motes of dust drifted through the beam of light filtering in through the window. To Noah's eyes, they looked like stars in the night sky.
It was just a feeling, but in that moment, he felt as though he were seeing a light radiating from the man before him. Just as Encrid saw a light in Noah, Noah saw something similar in him.
Why had this man come here? Even if he asked, he would get no answer. Because the reason was too obvious, too simple.
He had come to save people.
If the Ferryman saw this, he might have scoffed, asking if he was off to save that damn "tomorrow" of his again. He wouldn't have been wrong.
To Encrid, Noah was a righteous, good man whom the world sorely needed. That was all there was to it. Even if someone accused him of acting on a whim, he would have no defense.
"I said, let's be friends."
Encrid repeated. In terms of age, Noah was likely older. At the sudden, out-of-the-blue proposal, Noah blinked for a moment, then politely folded his hands over his lap, smiled, and nodded.
"Yes. Let us be friends."
Was this merely a gesture of comfort? Even if it was, it brought him joy. And the hero who had once come as a proxy of God spoke on God's behalf once more.
The lips of the man who held the light parted.
"Then from this moment on, this is a fight to protect my friend. I have my justification."
They might be branded as devils. But what of it? They could be shunned by both the Holy City-State and the army of the Gray God, and the forces gathered right outside were a very real threat.
Yeah, I knew that when I came.
"And yet, you still choose to fight?" someone seemed to ask.
Let's just say that's exactly why I'm doing it, Encrid answered in his mind, and stood up.
Hadn't they said they had starved for two days? He couldn't let them go hungry any longer. There were children in this monastery. One was a child who had almost been exploited under the name of a saint. And there were others who were not. To his eyes, there were many. Even considering the monastery's circumstances, a large number of children lived within these walls.
Noah did not discriminate against anyone.
Within the monastery, there was a person who had sacrificed himself to save Saintess Seiki. There was also one who, after watching everything unfold, had only now had a change of heart. Fortunately, he had heard that those who would have betrayed them had already turned their coats and died while he was on his way.
"Ah, Seiki told me to give you her regards," Encrid said, turning to head outside.
Seiki had said: "Do you really think I'd be of any help if I went? I'd probably just get in the way. I'll go with you next time, once I've gotten a bit stronger. Good luck. Give my regards to Uncle Noah."
She was a remarkably straightforward kid. Her words carried the implicit assumption that as long as he stepped forward, failure was not an option.
That trust nudged Encrid forward. It was a pleasant push. Even Krais, who usually worried, hadn't expressed any anxiety as he watched him leave this time.
He was filled with a desire to live up to their trust. And he wanted to gift Noah's face with the same sense of relief he had seen on theirs.