Chapter 361 - Where Are the Knights?

“Will they try poison or some other trick?”

Encrid asked as dawn broke the next morning. Jaxon shook his head. He was his usual self again, his expression and manner indifferent, bored, and calm. Only his tone betrayed a faint trace of killing intent. “They won't try the same thing again.”

His voice was like a shard of ice pulled from a glacier. Utterly cold. It held contempt for those who had come to play their tricks while he was away. Of course, the cold, murderous smile vanished as soon as it appeared. He returned to his usual indifferent, aloof expression, as though he wouldn't so much as twitch an eyebrow if someone pricked him with a needle. “You mean you'll make sure they can't?”

Jaxon nodded indifferently at Encrid's question. That settled it. True to his word, nothing of note happened all day. The men who had come with their supposed warning never reappeared.

Perhaps they wouldn't return after just one day?

No, they probably couldn't come even after two or three. If they had gone out of their way to come when he was alone, they wouldn't come when everyone was together. Encrid spent another day training and practicing without a care, putting Andrew and the five trainees through their paces. “Spare me.”

One trainee muttered it without realizing.

“Yes. One swing of your sword today will save you tomorrow.”

Encrid answered the trainee's lament in complete earnest, earning applause from Dunbachel. “Words to live by.”

“That's not wisdom. It's a declaration that he won't listen to that crap, you stupid Beastman.”

Rem chided her from beside her. Only Encrid could faintly hear their exchange. The trainees wouldn't have heard it. Rem understood why Encrid answered that way, so he had probably lowered his voice on purpose. Begging for mercy over this much?

'I can work them harder.'

Encrid wanted them to pour even the energy they spent talking into their swords. He meant to do more than satisfy their wants and ambitions. He wanted to keep them from dying, as far as possible. As far as Encrid could see, the Gardner family's entire force consisted of seven people. Andrew, Mac, and five trainees. Andrew was at least serviceable, but...

'Merely serviceable, in a situation like this.' If trouble broke out, he would simply die. Encrid knew him, after all. He had no intention of watching Andrew die, but he couldn't follow him everywhere and protect him either. The best solution was for them to protect themselves. That was the purpose of their current training, so a little brutality was in order. At times like this, it was easier to act like a wall that couldn't understand them at all than to acknowledge their words and shout them down. People spoke up and tried to reason with someone they could get through to. With someone they couldn't, they didn't even try. They were too busy doing what they were told. That was what Encrid wanted: for them to focus madly on the task at hand and struggle with everything they had. Having climbed up from the very bottom, he knew the mindset they needed now. “Uuugh.”

The trainee despaired. Encrid was satisfied. Ragna nodded at the sight. Giving everything his best. This was exactly the Captain he knew.

It pleased him. Watching it stirred his motivation anew.

'My sword...'

Before long, Ragna sank into his own world. Jaxon watched the same scene in silence. In two days, practically all he had said was that the enemy wouldn't try the same thing again. No one spoke to him, either. Even Andrew found him difficult to approach. For Mac, he was naturally not someone to strike up a conversation with. The five trainees were too busy trying to survive. Rem and Ragna didn't bother picking fights with him, either. They each had things to do for now. Sometimes, when Encrid stepped away, Rem filled in for him.

“Land even one hit on me and you get a break.”

He showed the five trainees a different kind of hell. Rem enjoyed that immensely. Ragna swung his sword off to one side and lost himself in thought. Occasionally, he muttered, “Light and fast and heavy,” making it clear that he was pondering swordsmanship. Amid all this, Jaxon could reflect in silence. First, he considered his own business.

'A game of tag?' The evidence gathered so far had allowed him to identify the target of his vengeance. But identifying his target didn't mean he could find them.

That alone wasn't enough. He needed to gather more information. Uncover things. Dig deeper. After those practical concerns came a more fundamental question.

'Is this right?'

The path he had chosen wasn't one that would “help.” Which path was right? What was the answer? Why was he devoting his whole life to revenge?

If revenge was his goal, could he really go about it this way? [“Stab me.”]

Encrid's words lingered in his mind. Encrid himself came into view, his forearm wrapped in bandages. The days were growing warmer, and sleeves were getting shorter. The wound had received something closer to neglect than treatment, yet it was healing without infection.

His Stiletto had left that mark. [“Why are you agonizing over it? Find the reason first. Think about why.”]

His master had said that. Jaxon did as he had been told. The reason for his turmoil lay in his heart. His heart couldn't find its bearings.

If he didn't understand, he would be dragged along. If he did, he wouldn't. Finding the reason didn't mean he had to produce an answer. There were many paths, and Jaxon chose one of them. Rather than rein in his heart, he let it do as it pleased. Instead of agonizing over whether this was all right, he would do it. Simply do it. Move. Act. Take a step toward a result.

That was Encrid's mindset. He had learned it by watching him. Once again, he glimpsed the greatness of the man before him.

'He doesn't give up because he lacks talent.'

Instead of worrying, he sought solutions. When his mind failed him, he used his body. As he used his body, he kept thinking. He tried everything. A desperate struggle. [“You'll never make it. Not with skills like those.”]

Criticism and ridicule didn't shake his heart. He simply pressed on. The complexity within Jaxon's heart soon gave way to simplicity. The tangled thread unraveled and straightened.

In short, for now, he would follow his heart. After that, Rem claimed he was bored and tormented the five trainees some more. Dunbachel took two curved swords from Encrid and spent a long time swinging them to get accustomed to them. Later, she even shifted into her beast form and challenged Ragna to spar, only to get beaten up. Ragna spent his time swinging his sword in short bursts or lying on his bed or the grass beside the training grounds. Unless someone came at him demanding a spar, he looked perfectly idle. Jaxon sometimes went out with Encrid, and often ventured out alone as well. When they went together, it was usually to a party. Encrid took Andrew along and acted as his bodyguard. On rare occasions, he saw someone he knew. With so many people gathering in the capital, all sniffing around for a position, such encounters were only to be expected. “You.”

“It's been a while.”

The other man reacted first, and Encrid replied. It was the instructor who had taught swordsmanship during his previous visit to the capital. Not a particularly decent human being, but...

'A proper nobleman's bodyguard now?' He reached that conclusion from the man's clothes, his weapons, and the people around him.

“You really were that Encrid?”

So said the former instructor whose specialty was bullshit. Back then, Encrid had judged him quite skilled. What about now?

He nodded as he considered it. “That's absurd.”

The man muttered to himself, then whispered to his companions. From what Encrid could make out, he seemed to be calling him a fraud.

He ignored it. Beside him, Andrew frowned.

“You're letting that go?”

He looked ready to step in himself.

“Leave it.”

Watching them, Encrid saw no reason to pick a fight first. The bullshit instructor smiled at Encrid, too. It was a smile that seemed as though it ought to reek of fish. Rank.

“Oh, sure. See you around.”

The former instructor bastard left, snickering among his companions. The bullshit instructor wasn't even their leader. Was anyone among them worth noticing? It didn't look like it.

Encrid ignored them. Just a passing encounter. Only after attending several parties did Encrid manage to meet Krang. Krang said that simply getting out of the palace was difficult.

“Everyone looks ready to draw their swords at any moment.” “Count Molsen?”

Encrid knew nothing of the palace's internal affairs. He had merely named the most likely candidate.

It was the wrong answer. Krang smiled in reply. “The one holding a blade to my throat right now isn't a frontier noble. He's inside the palace.”

Without even being asked who, Krang readily continued.

“A fellow called Viscount Mernes.” From the rough explanation, he had united factions within the palace into a single force. His rivalry with Viscount Vantra suggested he was pursuing ambitions independent of Count Molsen. “A very troublesome fellow. He's one of the Five Fingers.”

Krang planted his palms on the bench, straightened his back, and looked up at the sky. Why did he look so carefree when his words said otherwise? The Five Fingers supporting the palace referred to five houses.

Marquis Vaisar of the Thumb house.

House Rakhorn, the Index Finger, which had served in the military for generations.

The Middle Finger, ruler of the frontier, belonged to Count Molsen.

The Ring Finger had managed the kingdom's finances for generations. Its current head was known as the Marquis of Fertile Lands.

Finally, the Little Finger house guarded the palace, its name unknown. And at present, none of the five houses supported the Queen. All were busy looking after their own interests. Krang didn't explain all of this. There would be no need. He glanced at Encrid's eyes. That sort of thing didn't seem to be what he wanted to know.

Then what had he come to ask? At first, Andrew had drawn attention by appearing at parties uninvited. Later, the rumors had shifted to the bodyguard accompanying him.

The hero born of Border Guard.

In truth, a man whose reputation was nothing but exaggeration. Someone who knew Encrid's past was reportedly spouting off about him at every opportunity. The rumor claimed he had always been hopelessly unskilled, carried by his subordinates and intoxicated by hollow fame. 'They won't acknowledge what they haven't seen?'

Was that arrogance? Conceit? Or were they trying to protect the reputations they had built? 'None of the above.'

Krang considered them all idiots. If they doubted his reputation, they could feign goodwill and test him. If they didn't care to do that, it would be wiser to watch for now.

Instead, a few stupid, ignorant nobles were busy belittling and disparaging Encrid. 'Are they short on brains?'

How had they become palace officials with heads like those? One of the men busy disparaging him was the palace constable, the superior of every guard captain and the man overseeing the palace guards. 'Should I be happy about this?'

Should he rejoice that a presumed enemy was stupid, or lament that the palace he would have to govern was full of nothing but morons? Or should he blame the Queen for leading a country like this? Perhaps he should pity her instead. Surely she hadn't created all of this. Of course, skill wasn't the only reason Encrid was drawing attention.

“I'd like to see his face for myself.”

“They say he's terribly handsome?”

“A feast for the eyes, I hear.”

The noblewomen were curious. Apparently, the two men accompanying Andrew as bodyguards had stolen the show, both outside the venue and within. Those two were, of course, Encrid and Jaxon. No wonder their noble lordships, blinded by jealousy, were speaking ill of Encrid behind his back. Throughout history, had there ever been a motive as powerful as jealousy? Some of the nobles were, in fact, desperate to kill Encrid. The constable included.

If Encrid so much as drew his sword in the city, wouldn't the guards come running? With that thought, Krang spoke.

“Viscount Mernes is Marquis Vaisar's son-in-law, and he comes from House Rakhorn.” He had the most powerful patron in the palace behind him and had even brought private soldiers into the capital. He had taken part of the Royal Guard under his command, too. Since Krang's arrival in the capital, the man had rapidly expanded his power, even bringing the surrounding factions together under him. In the present situation, he was twice as dangerous as Count Molsen. “There are also reports that he's assembled a battalion-sized private army and stationed it outside the capital. So, what did you want to know?”

Krang broke off his explanation to ask. Encrid must have come here for a reason. Encrid had many questions, but what he truly wanted to know came down to one. A single question would clear up much of his confusion.

And so he asked about the people he had hoped to meet, the people who should, of course, have been here. “Where are all the knights?” If there were even one knight in the palace, if they were at the Queen's side, could this Mernes or Mernos fellow run wild like this? A group of assassins had delivered a warning in broad daylight. Beasts cried out in the night, and fresh horror stories circulated through the capital every day.

If knights were here, if the knight order acted, such things could not happen, and must not be allowed to happen.

It was the crucial question at the heart of it all.