Chapter 802: Unshakable Marcus
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 802: Unshakable Marcus
The gate guard’s shock rippled through the palace interior.
"His Highness has a busy schedule today. Please understand."
Stepping forward to welcome the group was one of the most prominent figures of the Royalist Faction. He was also an old acquaintance of Encrid’s—a man who had once served as a battalion commander of the Border Guard and had since risen to become Count Marcus.
"That sounds like a demand," Encrid remarked.
"If you can't understand, you’re more than welcome to try and force your way in anyway," Marcus replied with a laugh.
He remained a consistently bold man. Even though he had heard that Encrid had slaughtered an entire horde of demonic beasts, the look in his eyes held awe, but never unease. If this was an act, it was a testament to his superb qualities as a ruler. After all, they said the best way to win faith and trust was to trust the other person first.
"Shall we have a cup of tea?"
Encrid nodded and glanced at Aisia, who had stepped forward as an escort. She originally belonged to the Cypress division, but he had heard she had somehow been transferred to the Royal Guard. All of this was information contained in the letters Krang sent—letters filled with miscellaneous gossip.
"If you keep eating rich food and lounging around every day, you’re bound to put on some extra weight, Aisia."
At Encrid’s "friendly" greeting, a vein throbbed on Aisia’s forehead. Ruffling someone’s feathers with a mere greeting was certainly a talent of his.
"……Is that supposed to be a greeting?"
"What else would it be?"
Though clearly intended to tease, a greeting was a greeting. Watching the two catch up, Marcus spoke.
"Let’s head inside."
As they entered the inner castle, an attendant approached and guided the group to their respective rooms.
"See you later. It sounds like you’re just going to talk about useless things anyway," Rem said, wiping his bleeding nose.
"Just give me directions and I can find my room on my own. I’ve been here before," Ragna told the attendant, while Ropode shook his head behind him.
Audin muttered a brief prayer, and Teresa clasped her hands, nodding in agreement.
"Mmm, they are as consistent as ever," Marcus murmured, choosing his words carefully. He seemed even more cautious than when he was dealing with Encrid. To him, Rem and the others didn't feel controllable in the slightest. Without Encrid, they would run wild in an instant.
"Fiancé, you know where my room is, don't you?"
Finally, Sinar tapped Encrid’s arm with her finger as she spoke, causing Marcus’s eyes to widen.
Hmm?
As the group withdrew one by one following the attendants, Marcus watched Ropode instruct Ragna’s attendant to make absolutely sure Ragna actually went into his room, before finally speaking.
"Was the elf company commander always like that?"
No. She hadn't been like that at first. Though she enjoyed a joke, she had always maintained an expressionless face and kept a certain distance from others. Within Marcus, the mystique of the elf with her otherworldly beauty crumbled just a little.
"People change," Encrid replied nonchalantly. Well, even he found the elf’s transformation occasionally surprising.
"I suppose so."
Marcus nodded as he watched Sinar’s retreating back, then turned around.
In the end, only Encrid was left to have tea with Marcus.
His office was neat, reflecting his personality. The only furniture was for minimal storage; two swords and a shield hung on the wall, and not a single document sat on the desk in the corner. A maid placed two cups of tea on the table, along with cookies made from ground and steamed barley, wheat, and other grains.
When tasted, they had almost no sweetness and were coarse and dry—cookies tailored specifically to Marcus’s taste.
"I heard there are some unsettling movements in the capital?"
A subtle scent of jasmine wafted from the cup, which was warmed to just the right temperature. Encrid took a sip, washing away the coarse taste of the cookie as he asked. Perhaps this was why people ate them; when paired with the tea, the savory flavor of the cookie doubled.
"We opened up logistics, established trade with the Holy City and the Trade City, and even got involved with the Stone Road that stretches from the West to the Border Guard. To clear out the surrounding monsters and demonic beasts and prevent bandit groups from gathering, we had to open up the capital, which led to a massive influx of people. That’s where the problem lies."
Instead of beating around the bush, Marcus organized his thoughts and let them out in one breath. He spoke at a reasonable pace, taking breaths where needed.
Encrid was highly intelligent, but even so, it was difficult to grasp the core of the issue or make guesses when he knew nothing about the current political climate. However, he understood the underlying meaning of Marcus’s words. Marcus had spoken to highlight the core problem, not to convey detailed information.
When you understand the intent behind someone’s words, what you need to realize becomes clear. The habit of active listening, which he had developed while learning skills from others, proved useful even now.
So, what did it mean that there were many people?
It means there will be gaps in security.
Unidentified individuals would roam Nauril. Had some of them shown suspicious movements? It didn't seem like a problem as simple as the Thieves' Guild running rampant. That wouldn't be called an "undercurrent," and if it were just that, Andrew wouldn't have gone out of his way to mention it.
Of course, knowing the cause of the problem didn't mean a solution would instantly present itself. Just because the influx of people was the issue didn't mean they could shut the city gates and cut off all interaction.
"A wagon that has started rolling down a slope cannot be stopped," Encrid said.
It was what Krais had said regarding the growth of the Border Guard. Nauril was likely in a similar situation. If you try to forcibly halt a wagon rolling down a slope, its contents will spill out in a heap. Therefore, the best course of action is to steer it so it doesn't plunge off a cliff or overturn.
Marcus didn't elaborate further. Without even checking if Encrid had understood, he continued.
"Save the complicated talk for after you’ve rested. More importantly... well, how about you go see my father?"
He was suggesting they postpone meeting the King and other nobles for about three days. By Marcus’s father, he meant Marquis Vaisar.
"Separately?" Encrid asked. It was a rare and unexpected request.
Marcus showed his complicated feelings. Scratching behind his ear with one hand, he let out a low groan before speaking again.
"I think he’s going to pass away soon."
Human life is finite. Even with a naturally robust constitution, it is difficult to exceed a hundred years. Of course, knights have their lifespans extended by Will, and mages live longer through various means, but as long as one is an ordinary human, they die when they grow old.
The Grim Reaper is a butterfly that seeks out the sweet scent of death wafting from old age. That butterfly had headed toward the flower that was Marquis Vaisar. Once it finished sucking all the sweet nectar and departed, Marquis Vaisar’s breath would cease.
No matter how powerful a ruler one might be, death from old age is unavoidable. Since he wouldn't want to be reborn as a draugr or a ghoul just to avoid death, there was no other way. And they had likely already tried all sorts of methods, including divine power.
"I understand."
There was no reason to refuse. One could tell just by Marcus’s tone—this was a request. To be precise, it sounded like a request from his father, not from Count Marcus himself. Encrid nodded readily, though it didn't mean they had to meet right this instant.
"My father isn't awake for long periods, so I’ll send someone for you. Ah, and you didn't just kill monsters, did you?"
"While I was at it."
"While you were at it?"
"The Thorn Castle inside the Demon Realm..."
"……Hmm?"
Marcus’s eyes widened. That castle inside the Demon Realm was a place the Red Cloak Knights had attempted to attack three times, only to retreat every time.
"You went there?"
"It just happened."
"It’s not exactly a place you attack 'just because.'"
Marcus was surprised, but looking at what the mad knights had done so far, it wasn't impossible. Rather, from the perspective of conquering the Demon Realm, it could mean a new path had been opened.
He had once served as a battalion commander under the nickname of a warmonger. In truth, contrary to his nickname, he had always stuck to relaxed and quiet battles, but using such a nickname to wage psychological warfare on his opponents was Marcus’s strategy from the start. With this experience, he was also in a position to offer strategic advice to the King.
"What on earth did you do?"
Marcus was astonished and filled with admiration. The awe in his eyes deepened. No matter how friendly he acted, the man before him was someone who had altered the strategic landscape of the Kingdom of Naurilia. He was also the only person who could control the madmen he had seen earlier.
Marcus thought this was the end, but Encrid spoke again.
"And..."
"And?"
Was there more? If it was on the level of destroying the Thorn Castle, there was no need to mention anything else. Encrid wasn't the type of person to list every minor detail, seeking praise for a job well done.
If it was about the slaughter of the monsters, he already knew. That had been so loud and chaotic that anyone keeping their ears to the ground would have known about it. It wasn't even information that could be sold at the level of an Information Guild.
Though surprising, it was known. Still, he would nod. If Encrid spoke of saving those who lived parasitically in the Demon Realm, Marcus would offer reassuring words. Out of habit, Marcus prepared a few responses in his mind.
"Well, I went there to hunt the Balrog in the first place."
Clink.
Not wanting to break his expensive teacup, Marcus set it down first as he processed what he had just heard. He had heard of Knight Oara’s end. Even a mere fragment of the Balrog was an opponent that required a knight’s full strength, risking their life to fight. If it was the Balrog’s main body, that was a matter requiring the mobilization of the entire nation’s military power.
Marcus caught his breath for a moment, pieced the context together, reached his own conclusion, and spoke.
"So you didn't encounter it. Yes, it is an existence whose appearance is unpredictable."
As Marcus spoke, his palms grew damp. Sweat had broken out before he knew it. He wiped his hands on his thighs and looked at Encrid.
The blue eyes peering through his black hair were straight and unwavering. His voice was the same—straight and unwavering.
"I killed it."
Unable to immediately process the situation, Marcus blurted out something foolish.
"You didn't just kill something that looked like it?"
In the first place, Marcus didn't even know what the Balrog looked like, so how would he know if it was a lookalike? It was truly a foolish question. Only someone who had faced it in battle would know. Which meant the man before him would never make such a mistake.
Realizing he had said something stupid, Marcus corrected himself.
"So, you mean you killed a fragment?"
"No."
"No?"
"The main body."
"The main body?"
Marcus repeated the words like a parrot. That was how shocked he was. Though he was usually called "Unshakable Marcus" by the surrounding nobles, right now, he was more than just shaken—he couldn't even manage his facial expression.
Encrid had seen a fragment of the Balrog in the City of Oara, and this time, he had confirmed it even wielded authority. He calmly recounted the entire story: the demon’s authority, the labyrinthification, and the battle.
Marcus’s jaw dropped. He was utterly speechless. Still, somehow managing to calm his racing heart, Marcus spoke.
"So that’s why everyone’s injuries were so severe."
He had asked because everyone clearly bore wounds all over, making him wonder what else they had done besides wiping out the monster horde. It was also a question asked because he had been trying to estimate the combat power of the mad knights.
Of course, the current tale far exceeded his estimations or predictions. Marcus didn't even think to ask how they had fought. Furthermore, he decided not to report any of this to the King just yet.
The King would be just as shocked as he was. Wouldn't even Krang—who was usually calm about most things, and whose eyes hadn't wavered even after experiencing something extraordinary recently—jump out of his skin upon hearing this?
Delaying this news for a moment could hardly be called disloyalty. Since Encrid and Krang called each other friends, Encrid would probably want to tell him directly, and besides, the current King was far too busy.
Though, in truth, I mostly just want to see the look on his face.
Marcus cast aside the useless self-justification cluttering his mind. This, too, was merely a passing thought born of his desire to escape the sheer shock of what he had just heard.
"……Well, let’s talk later. I’m too shocked to think straight. I need to rest a bit too."
At Marcus’s words, Encrid stood up, left, and followed an attendant to an empty room. He scanned the palace to see if there were any familiar faces, but none stood out.
There are quite a few.
However, the number of guards protecting the royal palace had increased compared to before. Soldiers armed with spears and shields were visible everywhere, and there were also several others wearing light armor and carrying swords.
Had Krang’s letter mentioned reorganizing the Royal Guard into two forms? He had said that in addition to the existing Royal Guard, they would nurture talented individuals in a format similar to an order of knights.
I wonder if Aisia is teaching them?
It wasn't a thought he dwelt on deeply. Even if he hadn't accumulated too much fatigue from the journey, he needed to rest when it was time to rest. Especially since his injuries hadn't fully healed yet.
Encrid stopped thinking and soaked himself in the private bath he was guided to. The warm water melted away the fatigue in his entire body. His aching arm felt as if it were healing on its own. After washing away the dust accumulated from the road, a few maids came in and scrubbed his back.
After washing thoroughly, he went to his room and slept soundly. The bed was soft, perhaps filled with goose feathers. Sinking deep into it, Encrid met the Ferryman the moment he closed his eyes.
Slosh—
And then, opening a mouth like an abyssal hole upon skin like a gray wasteland, the Ferryman spoke.