Chapter 356 - Andrew Lashed Out

The six nobles did not say a word to them. They treated Krang and Encrid as though they did not exist. “Wait quietly. Do not speak unless questioned. Do not raise your head or meet her eyes, and answer her questions earnestly. When the Queen calls you, step forward, kneel on one knee, and answer.” Viscount Vantra came over to deliver these instructions. Encrid nodded without betraying any reaction to the rank smell. Unless one was a Beastman or had trained in the sensory arts, such a faint odor would be difficult to detect. Seeing Vantra alone step forward while everyone else held back, Encrid thought he seemed to be the one saddled with all the dirty work. A sudden concern prompted him to ask, “Are they ostracizing you?” Were the other nobles deliberately making him handle only the unpleasant jobs? If so, should he tell him to wave a carrot, as Jaxon would? Vantra did not so much as blink. His composure was extraordinary. Nothing rattled him. Did Count Molsen have a good eye for people after all? Well-trained arm muscles showed through his wide sleeves. Those forearms had seen their share of sword work. The palm he exposed as he spoke told the same story. It resembled Encrid's own: a palm that had kept gripping a sword even as it split open again and again. “Watch your tongue,” Vantra added in warning. Encrid shrugged. Perhaps the exchange struck them as novel, for two of the nobles turned to look. Still, neither spoke to him. As they waited, several nobles began to whisper, covering their mouths and leaning toward one another's ears. They must have thought no one could hear, but Encrid had his sensory arts. When he concentrated, their conversation reached him. “What a low-class fellow.”

“I hear his skill rivals a proto knight's.”

“Did the bastard son bring him to recommend him for admission to the knight order? As thanks for keeping him safe all the way here?”

“Just look at the sort of man he brings as an ally.”

“He does have a face well suited to working his way between some noblewoman's legs.” Would Rem have split their heads with his axe on the spot if he had heard? He did have a particular dislike for petty nobles like these. Encrid felt nothing. It was hardly the first time he had heard such talk. Whatever people said, he could simply ignore them. Letting the nobles' conversation go in one ear and out the other, he glanced sideways at Krang, who stood there looking utterly unconcerned. His posture was impeccable, but judging by his expression alone, he might have been waiting with his weight on one leg and his arms folded. The Queen appeared soon afterward.

“Her Majesty the Queen!” Naturally, she had not come alone. Her escorts, the Royal Guards, entered with her and took up positions at the audience chamber doors and the rear entrance through which she had arrived. Was painting the spearheads gold a matter of taste? The thought struck him out of nowhere. Of course it wasn't. It would be a show of power. The Royal Guard doubled as a ceremonial guard, which must explain the gold embellishments on their arms and armor. Whatever else one might say, a formation equipped with golden helmets and golden spears would certainly look splendid. The untimely curiosity surfaced, then he dismissed it. What did it matter? “So you are the one?”

The Queen addressed Encrid as soon as she arrived. She seemed less a ruler of a nation than a warmhearted woman quick to laugh. Encrid was reminded of the older tavern serving woman who had looked after him as a child. One ruled a country. The other had carried mugs of beer. Their difference in status was unmistakable, and they bore no physical resemblance, yet something about the two felt similar to him. “Lower your head,” Vantra chided beside him.

Should he? “Leave him be,” the Queen intervened. She studied Encrid's face for a moment, then said, “You are a pleasure to look at.” Her tone suggested a simple compliment rather than desire for a man. Encrid had nothing to say. He could hardly answer, “Your Majesty looks comfortably plump.” The Queen was indeed neither thin nor delicate. She had a comfortable amount of flesh on her bones and wore a tiara that represented her crown. Beside her stood a familiar face. More precisely, a familiar Frog. CROAK. The Frog briefly puffed out her cheeks. That must be a smile. Encrid greeted her with his eyes as well. Luagarne. She had been with him when he obtained Nameless's Righteous Sword Technique, had drilled him in the Righteous Sword Technique, and flew into a rage at the mere sight of Cultists. “Have you no manners?” another noble said. That alone made the situation clear. The Queen's authority was a complete mess. The very fact that some petty noble dared intervene after she had given permission proved it. Encrid noticed, too, but let the remark pass. “We are gathered to establish whether you truly carry royal blood, are we not? State your name.”

As though she had not even heard the noble's interruption, the Queen turned her gaze to Krang. Encrid had not even had time to step forward and kneel. With a natural shift of her gaze, she changed the subject. This was the real business at hand. Naturally, the noble who had spoken could no longer take Encrid to task. Encrid was no longer the center of attention. Krang took a step forward. The noble who had been glaring at Encrid now glared at Krang instead. What an unprincipled bastard. Once he had decided to show malice, he ought to keep his eyes on his target. Thinking this, Encrid watched Krang advance. How could he describe that stride? Neither fast nor slow, it was confident. Krang walked forward, then raised his head to look at the Queen. As he did, it seemed to Encrid that Krang met the Queen's eyes on equal ground despite standing below her throne. Such was the force, bearing, and confidence he carried. His clothes were dusty from travel and his hair unkempt from not having washed properly, but none of that mattered. He possessed dignity and majesty. “Kdianat Rangdiers Nauril stands before you.”

Krang spoke, and his voice rang through the hall. Echoing off the audience chamber walls, it seemed to reverberate through their entire bodies. “Come here.”

At the Queen's words, an old woman in long, trailing robes stepped out from behind her. She took Krang's pendant and fitted it to the one in her hand. “They match.” There was also a procedure in which some spell was used to verify Krang's blood. Encrid merely watched. “It is true. You are my kin. I acknowledge you in my name as Queen. If any minister would dispute this hereafter, speak now.” The nobles raised no objections. Their eyes, however, spoke for them.

'Yes, as if anyone didn't know he was her kin.'

'All because the previous king couldn't rid himself of his bad habits.' They already knew everything they needed to know. With whole sets of assassins being sent after him, what could anyone gain by disputing Krang's identity? A pendant bearing the royal arms had been produced expressly for this purpose, and a mage had verified it as well. It felt, somehow, like watching a prearranged play. Then the Queen announced that affairs of state required her attention and withdrew. The ministers quickly dispersed as well. Somehow, Krang and Encrid ended up being the last to leave the audience chamber. The nobles ignored them with utter indifference, leaving without so much as a glance. Even the one who had challenged Encrid's manners kept his mouth shut. As they left the audience chamber, Encrid spoke. It was none of his business, but wasn't the atmosphere rather odd?

“None of them seem interested.” The succession had just acquired a new contender, and Krang had displayed his majesty. Why did these nobles show not the slightest interest in him? “None of the nobles who recognize me were here. Only those who want me dead.” Grasping the implication, Encrid asked, “No point talking to a man who'll be dead soon?”

“They're practical people.”

Krang chuckled as he said it. Was it right to laugh like this when his own life was at stake? All his earlier majesty had vanished, leaving only mischief on his face. Concerned, Encrid said, “Don't spend too much time with Rem.”

“As I've told you before, you're the craziest one in my eyes.”

“I'm serious. Try not to talk to Rem if you can help it.” He had rubbed off on Krang. He definitely had. Once they were outside the audience chamber, Luagarne called to him.

“Enkie. Have you been well?” As the Frog spoke, she brought the edge of her hand straight down. Encrid raised a hand to block, reading her movement. A feint. What mattered was not the hand descending from above, but her feet. She pushed off the floor, sliding toward him over the firmly laid carpet. It was a ploy to control the distance. The Captivating Sword activated of its own accord. In time with her steps, the edges of her slick hands shifted and curved, thrusting and striking. Encrid blocked them all. Her slippery skin made deflecting even easier. There was no killing intent, not even any presence behind it. It was simply a game of moves and countermoves for fun. The two soldiers guarding the audience chamber watched with bright eyes. The pair's game of moves and countermoves was of a remarkably high level. “I'd lose if we fought now. You've improved a great deal.”

Luagarne sounded impressed. She withdrew her hands, puffing her cheeks with a croak. She meant every word. Well, with this much improvement, he would have been able to crush those Cultist bastards' heads even if they attacked. The thought cheered her further, drawing two more croaks from her cheeks. “Is this appropriate in front of a prince?” Encrid asked.

“No human holds a Frog to their rules of etiquette.”

“I agree,” Krang added, before asking Encrid, “You two know each other?” “She's a Frog who visited Border Guard before.”

No sooner had Encrid answered than the Frog worked her cheeks and said, “Is our relationship really something you can sum up so lightly?”

“What, then?” “I taught you swordsmanship, and we fought together. We went exploring for an artifact, too. One wrong move and we would have been trapped there.”

“That sounds like a long story,” Krang chimed in at just the right moment. “Yes, it would be. By the way, where has everyone gone?” Encrid asked with a nod. Not one of his companions was in sight. Had a knight suddenly appeared and hauled them all away? Even so, they weren't the sort to go quietly. Nor would they readily follow an invitation to rest inside the palace when they knew no one here. Meanwhile, quite apart from Encrid's thoughts, the two Royal Guards watching the three of them, Frog included, had developed complicated expressions. Why did this Encrid fellow speak so casually to the prince, yet respectfully to the Frog? And why did no one challenge him over it? “I knew you'd come here someday, Captain.”

At the sudden voice, Encrid turned his head.

“Hmm?” This was truly unexpected. He had not thought he would meet anyone else he knew here besides Marcus and Luagarne. Even if he did, he hadn't expected it to be someone with whom he had a good history. “You.”

“Addressing a noble as 'you'? How insolent.”

The man smiled as he spoke, his words playful. “And I, standing before you, happen to be a prince,” Krang interjected.

“Yes, Your Highness. Have you been well?”

“Thanks to you.” The exchange had unfolded in an instant, all from a single “you.” “Shall we go elsewhere? I've invited everyone to my house,” the familiar face said. “Andrew.”

Encrid spoke his name.

“Andrew Gardner, nobleman.”

“And I'm a prince.”

“Your Highness, have you always been so fond of jokes?” Andrew asked, blinking. To Encrid, Krang and Andrew seemed to know each other. And they did. Andrew had dreamed of restoring his family. Rather than join one of the existing factions to achieve that dream, he had staked his family's fate on someone else. That someone was Krang. After parting ways with Encrid, Andrew, too, had undergone adventures of a sort to arrive where he stood today. He was now Vice Baron Andrew Gardner, the proud owner of a residence in the capital. “I'm surprised,” Encrid said evenly.

“Your face doesn't look surprised at all.”

“I really am.” “Then will you be staying at Vice Baron Gardner's residence?” Luagarne asked after listening to their exchange.

Before Encrid could speak, Andrew answered, “Please do. It'll be better than staying at an inn.” There was no reason to refuse. “Then I'll see you later. I have plenty to do myself.”

Luagarne raised her rounded fingers and waved them. It was a human farewell. Encrid waved back. “We can discuss the rest on the way. What about you, Lord Krang?”

“I have to stay in the palace. There's to be a party celebrating my return in a few days, so there's much to prepare.” A party. Not at all Encrid's sort of thing. Krang slipped away before hearing a reply. Encrid looked steadily at Andrew and realized how much the fellow had grown. His beard shadow was darker, and a new scar marked the skin beneath his right eye. He stood alone, perhaps no longer in need of a nursemaid. Encrid had surrendered his weapons upon entering the palace, and Andrew was empty-handed too. “Where's Mac?”

“At the house.” Perhaps he had given up playing nursemaid to become a butler instead.

“All right. Let's go.”

* * *

Andrew summed up his life since their parting in simple, clear terms.

“I risked my life completing a commission and regained my noble rank, but the moment I did, people started going to incredible lengths to hold me back. So the adventure is still ongoing.” There was probably no need to hear the details of that adventure. He must have saved a fair amount of Krona in the meantime. It was not a mansion with a garden, but he did own a proper house in the capital. It was three stories tall. The ground floor held a drawing room, dining room, and the like, while the bedrooms began on the second floor. There were more than ten bedrooms alone. The house was large and spacious. There, Encrid found Rem and the others.

“Well, look at that. Andrew, you bastard, you've made it.”

Rem stood in the middle of the drawing room, munching on a biscuit. The capital was a hub of trade. Naturally, its culinary culture was highly developed, particularly when it came to desserts. Rem nodded as he chewed his biscuit. “Rem hasn't changed,” Andrew said from behind him. Esther dozed on a wool cushion. For now, the rest were gathered here and there in the drawing room. Ragna stood at the window. Beyond it, several men could be seen training together with clubs. “Private soldiers?” Encrid asked.

“Keeping private soldiers is forbidden within the capital.”

“Then?”

“They're students taking swordsmanship lessons from me.”

“From whom?”

“Me.” “Who?” asked Rem, still eating his biscuit.

“Teaching them what?” Ragna asked, turning his head. Jaxon said nothing, but silently stared at Andrew. “You'll be shocked when you see how much I've improved.” Encrid nodded. He would have improved. Of course he would. As far as Encrid was concerned, Andrew was one of the talented ones. “Sure. I'm sure you've improved.”

There was something rather listless about Encrid's voice. Hearing it, Andrew smiled. His eyes did not join in; only his lips twisted upward. Encrid might have accomplished great deeds, but he, too, had overcome trials every bit as daunting. “How about a spar?”

Andrew was the first to suggest it. Encrid nodded once more. All sorts of things had happened: Andrew had welcomed and invited him over, and he had met the Queen. But none had been as welcome as those words. “Will you be all right getting beaten and crying in front of your students?”

Encrid was concerned for the subordinate he had not seen in so long. “Fuck. Bring it on.”

Andrew lashed out.