Chapter 678: Well-Wishes and Respect
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 678: Well-Wishes and Respect
"Zaun lies to the north. If you head toward the Pen-Hanil Mountains and cross over to the northeast, you'll find a small cave. Pass through it, and you'll reach Star-Watching Hill. From there, take a wide detour to the east, and you'll arrive. It’s situated near the Imperial territory."
Magrun spoke with a perfectly composed expression, as if he hadn't been coughing up blood just days prior.
Encrid had once wandered the continent working as a pathfinder. Compared to someone like Ragna, his sense of direction was as sharp as the continent's strongest knight. But compared to a professional pathfinder, it was only just enough to keep him from getting lost and missing a meal.
Even with his mediocre sense of direction, Magrun's explanation allowed him to map out the route clearly in his mind. The path wasn't as convoluted as he had expected, which brought a sudden realization.
‘So, the reason Zaun remains unknown isn't because it's hard to find.’
To be honest, the village where Encrid had been born and raised was far better hidden than Zaun.
‘They didn't hide the trail; they simply didn't build a reputation.’
Zaun never stepped into the spotlight or put its name forward. They had absolutely no desire to publicize the existence of House Zaun.
‘No, perhaps there were those who wanted to. But someone must have stopped them.’
His thoughts branched out instinctively. Sometimes, his mind would map out the hidden patterns, aftermath, and dynamics of a single event. This was exactly what Krais had called a truly remarkable talent when observing Encrid. After all, deducing what lay behind a picture just by looking at its front was a rare gift.
Encrid continued his train of thought with a question. ‘Why did they stop it?’
If he asked Krais or Abnayor, they would have an answer in an instant. Even without detailed information, those two would have easily deduced the path House Zaun was pursuing. And now, it wasn't difficult for Encrid to guess the reason either.
"The Imperial territory?" Encrid asked, popping a piece of roasted sweet potato—imported from Azpen—into his mouth.
It crumbled easily against his teeth. With only slight resistance, a sweet, savory aroma flooded his palate.
Crunch!
Eating it alongside pickled radish created a perfect harmony of flavors, eliciting a silent cheer from his taste buds. It was delicious.
"I said near it. Zaun is situated close to the Imperial territory, but it is a separate, independent city."
The answer lay in Magrun's words. Magrun also peeled a sweet potato and began to eat. Watching him blow on the hot food, it was hard to believe this was the same man who had collapsed while vomiting blood a few days ago.
Moreover, he had even sparred with Encrid at dawn. He claimed to be perfectly fine, and Encrid had no choice but to believe him. While this wasn't Encrid's area of expertise, Anne—whose specialty it was—had also nodded and confirmed he was stable for now.
‘An independent city.’
There was a group with that much military power right on the Empire's doorstep. If Encrid were a ruler, how would he view them?
‘A threat.’ Or an opportunity.
He would either absorb them or eliminate them. Yet, the Empire had done neither. They had left Zaun alone. The people of Zaun were not hermits; those in the loop were well aware of both their existence and their location.
‘And yet, they leave them be.’
It had to be because Zaun had provided a reason that forced the Empire to stay its hand. To use a strategic analogy, they gave their opponent no reason to strike.
‘And they likely made it clear that if the Empire made a clumsy move, it wouldn't end with just a scratch.’
To eliminate them, the Empire would have to expend a significant portion of its national strength. They would have to lose at least an arm to wipe Zaun out. So, they chose coexistence.
He recalled what Krang had once told him.
"Interestingly, the Imperial territory is surrounded by many shields. To the north, where it borders the central continent, the Pen-Hanil Mountains serve as a barrier. To the west, the Great Forest—home to the King of Demonic Beasts—sits like a shield. And on the path looping around to the east, there is another shield. That shield is..."
Encrid hadn't listened to the end because he hadn't been interested at the time, but now he thought he knew what that eastern shield was.
‘Zaun.’ They were one of those shields.
Grida dragged her chair over with a loud scrape and chimed in.
"They say we have no formal relationship with the Empire, but since those who can't adapt to the family sometimes leave to become Imperial knights, you can't say there's no connection at all. Strictly speaking, it's a friendly distance. The kind of relationship that has to remain friendly."
What happens when you have a poor relationship with a neighboring power? Naurilia and Azpen were prime examples. You would be forced to fight endlessly.
"We'll use horses at first, but eventually, we'll have to proceed on foot," Magrun added.
Encrid nodded, turning his gaze toward the side. The door to the order's dining hall was massive—large enough for five Audins to walk through side-by-side. To borrow Krais's words, the door had to be large so that supplies could move in and out easily. Then again, the knights ate an absurd amount. They ate like absolute beasts.
Though they numbered fewer than ten, the ingredients they consumed could feed more than a company. Because of this, they had even established a separate knight's ration for wartime.
Through that massive doorway, he could see Ragna. Ropode was standing beside him. As he cleared away the last of his breakfast, Encrid listened to their conversation. He wasn't trying to eavesdrop; their voices simply carried clearly across the hall.
"Ropode, don't cling solely to efficient methods."
The two held wooden swords. Ragna spoke as he swung his weapon. When a knight swung a blade—even a wooden one or a rotten branch—it was lethal. When they could shatter logs with their bare fists, what couldn't they do?
Ragna raised his wooden sword toward the sky in the ceiling stance. From that position, he brought the sword down in a snap strike, then shifted the direction of his force the moment it became parallel to the ground. Crossing his feet, he thrust the sword forward.
It was easier said than done; the technique required a level of physical control comparable to a beastman's. Furthermore, Encrid read the intent embedded in the movement.
‘Valen-style Mercenary Sword.’
Deceive to gain an advantage. That was the core of the Valen-style Mercenary Sword. The trajectory Ragna just demonstrated was the embodiment of that philosophy.
Ropode tried to intercept the sword, reacting to the suddenly shifting trajectory. It was clear that Ropode was no slouch; he barely managed to block the thrust.
Clack-clack-clack!
The wooden swords clashed loudly, locking together in midair.
‘Bind.’ A technique to entangle and control the opponent's weapon.
With their swords bound, Ragna crossed his feet once more, stepping forward to close the distance. It was an unorthodox attack that would have startled anyone. Pushing his bound sword forward, Ragna lightly tapped Ropode's cheek with the hand holding his hilt.
Tap.
There was no physical damage, but it was a heavy blow to Ropode's pride. Just like that? Not because he was outmatched in strength or speed, but because he failed to read the move?
Ropode's mind was clearly reeling. Just as Encrid thought this, Ragna spoke again.
"Do not limit your movements."
It was exactly the advice the young man needed. Ropode's eyes gleamed. He was in the middle of breaking through his limits, making steady progress every day. Ragna was teaching him exactly what he needed most at this moment.
And it didn't stop there. The man standing there seemed to have completely shed his usual laziness.
"Next, I will teach you how to contract your muscles instantly for a swing. It's the Heavy Sword Style spinning slash."
The pace of the lesson was almost too fast for Ropode to keep up. It was truly a sight—something the old, lazy Ragna would never have done.
"He's changed too much," Grida remarked, watching the scene. He probably changed because of Encrid's influence, right? she thought privately.
Encrid had that kind of impact on people. If you stayed by his side, you couldn't help but change. Over the past few months, he had even made her feel that the grueling work of training her body was actually enjoyable. Encrid had a knack for making people want to move their bodies with joy just by watching him.
"Didn't he say he left home because he was sick of the sword?" Magrun added, glancing at Encrid.
The culprit who had transformed a disillusioned genius stood right beside him. Just how had he changed a person like that? Magrun had a rough idea. It was rare to find someone so earnest in both training and life. In fact, he had never seen anyone like Encrid. That sincerity must have been the catalyst.
While the two were lost in thought, Encrid finally spoke.
"What is wrong with him?" His tone was one of deep shock.
Grida and Magrun snapped their heads toward him. Why are you the one who's shocked? their eyes demanded.
Reading their expressions, Encrid replied, "I don't know either. Seeing him like this is actually kind of terrifying."
In all honesty, this was a side of Ragna he had never expected to see. The two from Zaun stared at him in sheer disbelief.
After instructing Ropode, Ragna wiped his sweat with a towel and walked into the dining hall. It was a sight that truly didn't suit him—sweating, dedicating himself to training, and teaching others in his spare time.
And it wasn't just Ropode. On his way in, Ragna ran into Clement, a squire who had tripped and fallen.
"Hold your sword," Ragna said.
"...Pardon?"
Clement knew Ragna. Since she frequented the order's quarters, it was impossible not to. Even so, her bewilderment was obvious. This was the first time she had ever spoken to him. Usually, he was the type who wouldn't even answer when called because he found everything too bothersome.
Flustered, Clement drew her sword as instructed.
"Practice being able to change your grip at any moment. But hold it firmly so you don't lose your weapon."
It was brief but effective advice. Clement offered a salute with a dazed expression, her face clearly asking, Why is he suddenly acting like this?
Ragna sat down to eat and addressed the three pairs of eyes staring at him.
"What remains in the place one has left behind? It is a question worth pondering."
Whether he had swallowed a Philosopher's Stone or drunk the blood of a sage, Ragna was acting uncharacteristically wise. And it was incredibly annoying. It was like Rem pretending to be gentle, or Sachsen acting cheerful and saying the world was beautiful.
Encrid reflexively flicked his water cup. The water splashed out and landed squarely on Ragna's hair. Encrid felt a pressing need to exorcise whatever had possessed his friend. He had heard from Rem that sometimes this kind of shamanism worked.
With utmost sincerity, he declared, "Shoo! Begone, evil spirit!"
A brief silence settled over the dining hall. A trainee bringing out another dish took a step backward, deciding to pretend he had seen nothing.
"What are you doing?" Ragna didn't get angry, nor did he demand an explanation. He merely stared blankly without even shaking the water off. That look irritated Encrid even more. It was the look one gave an immature child.
"If a person suddenly changes..." Encrid lashed out, provoked.
"Yes, they die," Ragna countered calmly.
At the end of this brief exchange, Encrid felt a sense of defeat. ‘Did he... grow up?’
Ragna didn't even pretend not to understand; he simply maintained his calm demeanor. Behind Ragna, Encrid could almost picture an adult clicking their tongue and muttering, "You know exactly what you're doing."
"Commander, everyone needs to be serious at times." Magrun, who had been discussing swordsmanship theories with him with utmost seriousness until now, backed away.
This bastard? As Encrid glared at him, Grida spoke up.
"You can't exorcise an evil spirit like that. You need to slash it with a magic-infused sword or use a ritual tool... not plain water."
Encrid swallowed his retort. He realized that if he offered any excuse now, he would only lose more ground.
"Stop bullying my fiancé, you three evil spirits," Sinar said as she walked in. With her elven hearing, she had clearly heard the entire conversation from outside.
As if detached from the situation, Ragna merely nodded in acknowledgment, his eyes like deep, still pools. Encrid couldn't bring himself to argue further. He truly couldn't fathom why Ragna was acting this way, but it wasn't something to complain about either.
Given the right catalyst, people change. Encrid had simply realized this truth of the world once again.
"Right. Whatever the case, I suppose it's better than him being lazy."
He muttered a half-hearted response, stood up, and went to find Krais. He had seen Krais's eyes narrow when he mentioned leaving again; he needed to finish his duties before setting off. He was absolutely not running away from the current situation.
"Retreat is a valid tactic. I will hold them off, my fiancé. Go." Sinar blocked the path behind Encrid with a solemn, heroic air.
*
Two days later, after wrapping up the territory's affairs.
"Return safely without any trouble."
Krais generously provided krona and horses. The horse breeding in Greenpearl had been a massive success; the manes of the horses brought before them gleamed, and their eyes were sharp and clear.
"Well then."
Anne had hastily learned how to ride over the past few days, and Encrid set out on the road with the three from House Zaun, Ragna, and Anne.
"On your way back, please abandon that bastard somewhere," Rem offered as his "well-wish."
Hearing the remark directed at him, Ragna stared intently at Rem with that same calm, deep gaze.
"What? You wanna fight?" Rem snapped.
Instead of releasing murderous intent, Ragna replied with words. "Rem, I respect the life of a barbarian. You must have had no choice but to live through struggle. Otherwise, you wouldn't have survived."
Ragna spoke and turned his horse away. Clip-clop, clip-clop.
"...Did he take a serious blow to the head?" Even Rem was utterly bewildered.
"That's the wrong way!" Anne shouted, spurring her horse to follow Ragna.
Strangely, even though the horse Ragna rode was exceptionally well-trained, it continued to wander off in its own direction.