Chapter 374 - Woof, Woof

While Jaxon stirred up chaos, Encrid all but threw Marcus out of the way.

"His Highness the Grand Duke is in the palace."

Marcus spoke as he rolled aside. He could read the situation well enough. Huddling out of the way, he searched for somewhere to hide. With no forces he could call on immediately, he had little choice. He could at least hide properly. He had served as a battalion commander, but had no troops under his command now who would actually obey him.

'Damn House Vaisar.'

His family had taken neither side. Marcus disliked that, but he could not simply sit idle. Once he sent Encrid to the palace, he would do what he could. After surviving this, of course. Had he known it would come to this, he would never have dismounted.

Encrid gave a cursory nod and climbed onto Odd-Eyes. Through the horse's skin, he felt the same powerful energy as before. A fierce determination.

'I'm fast.'

Power devoted entirely to running. Yet the horse had no desire to use that power or determination carelessly. If it ran anyway...

'It's because I asked.'

Odd-Eyes had fully accepted Encrid's request. The horse, whose transformation into a demonic beast had stopped halfway, stamped a few times and moved. Even comparing its movements to an ordinary mount's would have been an insult.

Odd-Eyes pushed gently off the ground and lowered its body. Keeping its knees half-bent as it drove against the ground, it ran straight through the mansion's main gate. Stealthy and swift, it was little more than a black shadow vanishing in a flash.

Jaxon was just killing several assassins and drawing all eyes to himself. They guarded the wall, but no one watched the main gate. Was that some peculiar habit of assassins? Encrid spoke as the thought crossed his mind.

"That way."

He gripped the mane and lowered himself. At his whisper, Odd-Eyes moved, heading straight for the outer road to the palace.

The capital was in chaos. Every quick-witted citizen had gone home and bolted the door. Several shops had hastily closed as well, and some guards roamed with spears in hand and murder in their eyes.

Encrid ignored them all. With light steps, Odd-Eyes came to the entrance of the outer road leading to the palace. This had never been a road for ordinary traffic. It ran along the city's outskirts, with the city wall on its left, providing a direct route to the palace.

"Let's go."

NEIGH!

Odd-Eyes answered and kicked hard off the ground. Their surroundings stretched into lines and vanished behind them. Was this what it would be like to activate the Will of the Instant over and over? That was how fast they were going.

Before long, an obstacle appeared ahead. No sooner had he seen it than it was right before them. Concentrate on a Single Point activated, allowing him to recognize what lay ahead.

It was a barricade of wooden stakes, their sharpened ends set at an angle and their bases driven firmly into the ground. Horse, carriage, or person, anything that charged blindly into it would easily acquire several breezy new holes. Even a fine warhorse would have trouble charging through something like that. Naturally, a direct road to the palace would come with a means of blocking it.

"Sto...oop...?"

A soldier standing before the barricade tried to shout something, but could not finish. A black mass seemed to be flying toward him at an unbelievable speed. It was right before his eyes in the blink of an eye. He meant to shout for them to stop it, but before he could get all the words out, the black mass passed over his head.

TAP.

A sound of hooves striking the ground was followed by wind rushing past his ears. Something heavy leaped over his head without losing any of its speed.

Odd-Eyes had kicked off the ground and sailed straight over the barricade. To the horse, it was not particularly high. Encrid had no need to say a word. Odd-Eyes handled it alone.

"... Whoa."

Several startled soldiers turned to look behind them. A fine steed could clear a considerable distance, but surely this one could be said to fly. Dozens of soldiers and a wooden barricade blocked the palace road, and it had cleared them in a single leap.

"Uh, uh, hey! Shoot!"

The commander gave the order belatedly. It was pointless. The horse was already racing into the distance, faster than any horse they had ever seen.

This was Encrid's second time riding Odd-Eyes. Yet it felt faster now than it had then. The palace that had stood far in the distance suddenly loomed close. They had leaped over the sharp spears and barricade and kept running, reaching it in what truly felt like the blink of an eye.

As soon as they reached the palace, Odd-Eyes struck the ground with its forehooves, swung sideways, and stopped.

SKRRR.

Its hind hooves scraped the ground as it halted, sending accumulated dust billowing up. Running at such tremendous speed was one thing, but stopping with perfect control of its body was an art in itself. Encrid straightened from where the momentum had thrown him to one side and spoke.

"Thank you."

He jumped down at once. Now was not the time to marvel at Odd-Eyes. Encrid ran into the palace. No soldiers guarded the inner castle entrance. Instead, he heard the clash of metal and smelled blood from within. He followed the sounds and the smell.

"Huh? That dumbass!"

Someone had recognized him. He saw a group gathered together. Was this a coincidence? The aid of the goddess of luck? Or had he perhaps wished for a moment like this? Who could say?

The bastard who had spread false rumors. A familiar face, in other words. His former instructor, the bullshit specialist.

["Hey, bring that barmaid over."]

He still remembered the man running his mouth back then. Afterward, he had been beaten half to death.

["Say you lost. Say you're sorry, that you were wrong."]

The man had tried to force him, but Encrid had answered quietly.

["What was that? Did you say woof, woof?"]

He had so many memories of nearly dying. Some had helped him; others were simply bad memories. This was one of the latter.

The former bullshit instructor was now a soldier in Viscount Mernes's household. He wore a gambeson bearing the house's crest. With a smirk, he spoke.

"Come on, be honest. You whored yourself out to get where you are, didn't you?"

It had been a long time since Encrid had heard that sort of bullshit.

The bullshit specialist knew the old Encrid. The bastard who had swung a sword like his life depended on it despite having no talent. Who had kept swinging until his palms split open. A dumbass. And now he was supposed to be the hero of Border Guard? Ridiculous. He probably had people backing him. It had been the same back then. Hadn't there been bastards quietly looking out for him?

"Do you happen to know where Krang is?"

"What?"

"Guess you don't."

"What's this dumbass talking about?"

"Still busy running around barking, I take it? Woof, woof?"

The reminder of their past turned the man's face red.

"I'll kill you."

Killing intent filled his words as he extended his sword and took his stance. Some things the man had said long ago had actually been useful.

["Get cocky about how strong you are, and you'll die. You give it your all even when you're catching a rabbit. Do anything less in this line of work, and you're done for."]

Encrid agreed. And so he showed them a fraction of his best.

Between rows of columns that resembled a colonnade stood the instructor and his companions, thirteen in all. From the way they snickered with blades in hand, they had clearly been running around doing vile things under the imposing name of Viscount Mernes's army. Even now, a maid stood behind them, her clothes half torn off. Her eyes were terrified, her arms scratched, and her whole body trembled.

Encrid stepped forward with his left foot. He tensed his muscles, bent his knee, then straightened it as he gripped Spark and looked ahead. Fixing his eyes on the enemy, he kicked off the ground.

THUMP!

The sole of his foot drove against the stone floor. An instant's acceleration. At a speed that sent everything flowing behind him, Spark became a point—and put a full stop to their old acquaintance.

TING. SHUNK.

With those sounds, a corpse was made. A stream of blood followed Spark as Encrid withdrew it as swiftly as he had thrust it in. The man had not even reacted to the stab. The gulf in their abilities was plain.

The sword-wielding man crumpled. His knees struck the ground, and he fell forward. His head met the floor in a deep kiss with a heavy thud. The others stopped breathing at the sight of him falling. They were that shocked.

Silently, Encrid drew the sword at his left hip. Steel whispered from its sheath: the gladius. Gladius in his right hand, Spark in his left.

With a sword in each hand, Encrid became a wolf among sheep. Two of the sheep extended wool-covered hands, but the wolf casually knocked them aside and sliced them off. Slashes from the thick, broad blade and stabs from the thin, narrow one left twelve sheep ready for the butcher.

Having killed them all, Encrid flicked both weapons through the air to shake off the blood.

"Uuugh."

The maid had been saved, but she was more frightened than ever. The group that had seemed like demons had become lumps of meat in an instant before her eyes. It was a mercy she had not fainted. She did not look capable of answering any questions, and Encrid was in no position to look after her.

"Find somewhere to hide."

He offered only those words and moved on. As he walked, he sheathed his swords, clenching and unclenching his hands.

'It's gotten easier.'

He had felt it during his countless spars with Aesia: he was growing more accustomed to using Will. Sometimes he had pushed too hard through constant use and passed out, but a night's sleep had left him perfectly fine. Aesia had been astonished by that, yet he had still found using it uncomfortable.

But with each repetition, he could distinctly feel himself growing used to it. Was his body changing of its own accord as he used Will? Was that how he was improving? Whatever the case, it was far easier and better than before.

A brief reflection. A passing fragment of thought. Then Encrid had a feeling that someone else would bar his way.

'Seems every unpleasant connection I've ever made is showing up.'

First the constable mad with jealousy. Then the assassins. Now the instructor who specialized in bullshit.

Encrid followed his intuition. Before long, he found another group fighting, having followed the noise. It was a garden inside the palace. So this was where they were fighting, leaving even the inner walls unguarded. The Royal Guards there had split into two sides.

"Who are you?"

One of the Royal Guards shouted, and Encrid answered.

"Just passing through. Carry on."

"... What kind of crazy bastard..."

"Though I'd appreciate it if anyone could tell me where Krang is."

Encrid's gaze turned to one man: the one wearing a dark-gray helmet. He too must have been through a great deal. His body was drenched in blood.

"In the guest quarters farther inside the palace. You're late," the man said.

"You lunatic!"

One of the Royal Guards charged Encrid, brandishing a golden spear. Encrid drew his right foot back, then snapped it forward and upward. A Balaf-style rear-leg high kick.

Driven by the rotation of his hips, his foot curved like a whip and struck the spear-wielding hand with precision. Watching for Encrid's sword, the Royal Guard took the kick straight to his fingers.

CRUNCH!

The sound of breaking bones rang out. Tough leather reinforced the instep and toe of Encrid's boot. It was a weapon in its own right.

"Aagh!"

The soldier screamed and dropped his spear. Broken fingers must have hurt a good deal. Only then did Encrid notice the familiar face. It was the Royal Guard who had ground his teeth after being mocked. Here they were, meeting again.

As the man clutched his hand, Encrid struck his head with the flat of his sword.

CLANG!

A choked cry mingled with the resounding blow. The man toppled sideways and landed with a thud. Blood began seeping from beneath his golden helmet. His head seemed to have split a little.

Turning his gaze away, Encrid asked, "Need a hand?"

He was remarkably composed for someone who had just laid a man out. A subtle pressure and presence dominated the surroundings, the sort only someone with true skill could project. Under pressure worthy of a proto knight of the Scarlet Cloak Knight Order, everyone fell silent.

"Didn't I say you were late?" the man in the dark-gray helmet said.

It sounded like he meant Encrid should go to Krang rather than spend time helping here.

"Then I'll be going."

Encrid ran on. He did not know where the guest quarters were, but chose a direction by instinct. If that failed, he could ask whoever he met along the way.

"This is treason!" someone shouted behind him.

"If doing what I believe is right is treason, then a traitor I am."

He heard the man in the dark-gray helmet answer the accusation.

Encrid entered the building and searched for the guest quarters. A long corridor led him in one direction. Light streamed through windows set along the wall. He had taken a few steps, wondering whether Her Majesty the Queen might also be in danger given how things stood, when a voice rang out.

"That's far enough."

Someone stepped into his path. A woman with orange hair, wearing ordinary leather armor instead of a cloak and plate. Encrid stopped. This was someone he would speak to before attacking.

"Aesia?"

"This is as far as you go. I cannot let you go any farther."

Without a trace of a smile, Aesia barred Encrid's way.