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Chapter 372 - Squire Ropord

Chapter 372 - Squire Ropord

Krang reflected on his mistake.

It had been a plan with many flaws from the start. Thus, the mistake wasn't so important.

What mattered now was knowing what was immediately needed and confirming what actions to take.

He did just that.

What was needed right now was time, and he needed to do something that would buy it.

"Marcus Baisar."

"Yes, sir."

"Can you escape and request help?"

"…It seems that I must."

Krang was trapped in the assigned reception room. The small private reception room was one of the outer rooms of the royal palace, referred to as the outer annex.

This was a place where guests stayed when visiting the palace, but it wasn't equipped with defensive facilities.

Since he wasn't a grand duke, the only space he had was the reception room connected to the bedroom.

That's how he found himself stuck here.

As soon as Krang finished speaking, his whip guard, Matthew, threw a stool at the window.

The glass shattered with a loud crash.

Matthew used the handle of his whip to break the remaining shards and clear them away.

The window was large enough for a person to fit through.

"My guards should be outside," Marcus said, approaching the window. It was on the third floor—high, but with a large tree in front, it wasn't dangerous to drop, as he could catch the branches on the way down.

Krang sat with his arms crossed. His mind wasn't cluttered; if anything, it had become simpler and clearer.

Viscount Mernes had started a rebellion.

It was a reckless act, but still, he acknowledged it as a clever move.

'A suitable move indeed.'

Kraag admitted that Viscount Mernes, whom he had half considered an idiot, was actually sharp and intuitive.

'He's using every possible means now?'

It was a calculated move, a knife pressed against the neck.

The one thing Krang had been doing since arriving at the royal palace, including the grand duke appointment ceremony, was all for a single purpose.

A simple and clear goal.

It was to collect the garbage and dispose of it.

That was also the solution to the problem the queen had given him.

"Make all the ministers your allies," Krang muttered, raising one knee and hugging it, speaking in a voice low enough only for him to hear.

If he reversed those words, it meant he had to eliminate those who weren't his allies.

If it wasn't possible to convince each one individually.

'Just remove them all.'

By doing so, the opposition gathered under Mernes had attacked him.

'I thought they'd keep fighting amongst themselves, so they wouldn't pay attention to me for a while.'

Even now, thinking about the reasons wasn't useful.

From the start, it had been a battle that required a gamble, and Kraang had made his bet. Now, the result of that gamble was unfolding.

"I'm going."

Marcus leapt out of the window.

Krang immediately stood up, leaning out of the window and watching Marcus leave.

Marcus grabbed a nearby branch, slowing his fall, and rolled upon landing, executing a flawless roll to dissipate the shock.

He was a trained soldier. As he landed, the guards stationed outside the annex rushed at him.

They wore golden helmets and carried golden spears—royal guards.

The very same guards who were supposed to protect the queen were here.

"Kill him!"

"Traitor!"

Who was the traitor?

Spear points flew toward Marcus.

He rolled again, the leaves and grass sticking to his face and back. He got up, turning his back on the tree, his shirt torn at the elbow.

Marcus took a breath and scanned the surroundings.

His guards were nowhere in sight, but they should be in the annex lobby on the first floor. They would come soon.

Thinking this, Marcus drew a short dagger from his belt.

"Come on, come on, you bastards."

He said as he glared left and right, showing that he would kill whoever came first.

"Form a circle!"

Then, the leader of the royal guard, wearing a dark gray helmet, stepped forward.

No one rushed in.

Instead, the royal guards spread out, positioning their spears in a perfect circle.

A flawless encirclement.

'Damn it.'

Attacking with spears simultaneously in perfect synchronization was the royal guards' specialty.

To block ten spears with a single dagger, one would need to be at least a junior knight.

Marcus was sweating cold as he realized this.

"Is that the right path?"

Krang's voice came from outside the window. Though isolated and surrounded, his presence and authority remained unshaken.

Krang's authority and dignity came from his character, personality, and actions.

He placed one foot on the windowsill and leaned out, not hiding his body. While it was certain that an arrow could fly toward him and kill him, hiding and raising his voice from cover wouldn't be of help.

One of the royal guards waiting nearby saw this and subtly adjusted his spear, preparing to throw it.

It was close enough to hit him.

The dark gray-helmeted leader raised his hand.

A signal to wait. The soldiers squinted, but ultimately lowered their spears.

The leader of the royal guards raised his head and spoke directly to Krang.

"What is the right path, then?"

He asked, standing still with his spear, his subordinates gathering around him. There were fewer than ten of them.

The palace was in chaos, with screams and fighting happening everywhere.

"Right and wrong are not decided by others."

Krang spoke slowly and clearly.

What did the royal guards consider right?

Protecting the royal family. The dark gray-helmeted leader was troubled.

What is the right path?

Krang, his hair fluttering in the wind, entered his sight.

Even knowing that death would end everything, he risked his life to buy a little more time.

For what?

To save Marcus Baisar, the man labeled a traitor by Viscount Mernes.

Does that action have meaning?

Will things change just by buying some time?

He didn't know. It wasn't an action driven by calculation.

It was something he did because he believed it was right.

At least, that's what it looked like. To his eyes, that's all it appeared to be.

He saw Krang, met him, and spoke with him. That conversation surely had an impact.

He never expected to make this kind of choice at this moment, but he had chosen his side.

"…Reverse the formation. Turn your spears."

"Are you mad?"

The soldier who had been holding his spear backwards shouted, but the owner of the gray helm remained silent.

He had chosen to stand here to protect the queen. He believed this place, rather than becoming a knight, was a more honorable position.

But now, what was this?

Was it a position where he was desperate to protect the lives of a few noble fools?

Was he supposed to raise his spear for them?

He didn't want that.

Frankly, he wanted to say he didn't care and smash those fools' faces in.

Soon, the Royal Guard split into two groups.

They had already been divided by factions. A spear flew toward the owner of the gray helm.

The man furrowed his brows.

He twisted his body, reducing the range of the incoming spear.

He dodged it and parried it with his own spear, then thrust his left foot forward and slammed his spear down like a club.

Whoosh! Thud!

"Argh!"

The scream of a subordinate who had tried to block with his arm echoed. When the blow broke his arm, he stepped back, and another man took his place.

"Are you insane?"

Another soldier asked.

"I think so."

He answered nonchalantly, and his subordinates cleared the way so that Marcus could pass.

"Thank you."

Marcus said and swiftly moved on. The gray helm owner, instead of replying, guarded his back.

Marcus didn't look back as he left, mounting his horse and galloping away. But the danger wasn't over yet.

He had to fend off his pursuers again and again.

Two of his guards followed, but one was killed, and the other stayed behind to buy time.

At the end, even a berserker from the West joined the chase. Of course, Marcus didn't have time to figure out who his opponent was.

"Where do you think you're going so hastily?"

He was riding fast, but the man was running without a horse. He was fast. It seemed like he would be caught soon.

The spear he threw struck Marcus's forearm deeply.

Without time to recover, Marcus urged his horse forward. Blood splattered as he rode faster.

"Run, you are my lifeline."

Marcus urged his horse on as he headed for Andrew's estate. That was his last refuge.

Now, even his own family, the Baisars, could not be counted as allies.

Krang, left alone in the room after everyone had left, shouted.

"Do you know who my friend is? He's none other than the lone shining star of Border Guard, the enemy of Aspen, a madman armed with demonic power—Enkrid!"

No one answered. Matthew asked again.

"…Will it work?"

"Right? It's not working yet, right?"

Even though the calculation had failed, Krang smiled. He responded to Matthew's words with a bright smile.

"Open the passage."

At least he had secured a secret passage to escape. It was a hole sloping downwards. It was the queen's consideration as well.

'Maybe I can hold out for half a day.'

Then he could clear the trash that had gathered. In other words, his opponents were moving faster than expected, half a day earlier than he had predicted.

'To be dealing with this nonsense in broad daylight.'

Krang instinctively knew.

For him to survive and for this plan to succeed, a variable was necessary.

The enemy had prepared that variable, but Krang had prepared one as well.

Now, it was time to bring it to an end.

***

"That one."

Rem reacted.

Marcus, on horseback, with his injuries, and the appearance of the one chasing him.

The moment he saw it, Enkrid spoke.

"Destroy him."

Rem had already planned to kill him. The one chasing Marcus was the immortal berserker.

The one who had fled before had now come back to show his face here.

Rem leapt off the wall.

Then, the man chasing Marcus changed direction. He slammed his foot on the ground and immediately began to retreat, jumping back.

The spear flying through the air followed and turned, chasing him without hesitation. It was a complete retreat. Rem swiftly pursued him.

The two ran faster than the horses, sprinting across the blue stone.

"AAAH!"

A woman, minding her own business by the road, screamed in terror.

A man, perhaps a lover or a husband, gathered a woman into his arms and pressed her against the wall of a building that looked like a shop.

In the brief moment, the two of them disappeared from sight.

As Krang's form vanished between the buildings, it was impossible to follow with the eye.

Enkrid saw Marcus as he approached.

Perched on his horse, blood poured from one of his arms, and he breathed heavily, his face more frantic than ever before.

"Help me."

Enkrid decided it was time to act.

Just as he was about to jump down from the wall, someone shouted from behind.

"If you escape now, things will only get worse!"

It was Squire Ropord. Enkrid spoke without turning.

"I'm heading to the royal palace."

Squire Ropord knew well whose hands the palace was currently in. If Enkrid was going there, it meant he was willing to risk his life.

For what?

Ropord furrowed his brow. The thoughts came crashing in—why was he here? What was he fighting for? Whose orders was he following? Did he have any will of his own?

The words of his mentor echoed in his mind.

"It's not about right or wrong. It's about where your heart lies."

Ropord had been recognized for his swordsmanship, becoming a squire, but he had always been criticized for his character.

"So, what do you think?"

Even when choosing lunch, he would defer to the opinion of his companions.

He had always been the type to be pulled this way and that.

It was what brought him here.

Not by his own will, but by following the will of others, justifying it as simply obeying orders.

'Is that enough? Is that all it takes to be satisfied?'

He didn't know.

'Why am I here?'

Unwittingly, Squire Ropord spoke his thoughts aloud, shifting his resolve with the words that should have come from the one he was supposed to capture.

A strange, uncomfortable feeling moved his lips.

"Soon, Viscount Mernes' army will advance."

He raised his voice without thinking, and Enkrid blinked in surprise, glancing behind him.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"The one leading the coalition of all factions is someone just as skilled as a knight."

"What are you talking about?"

The chief of security, desperate, grabbed Ropord's arm.

Ropord calmly pulled it away and continued.

"Please, help."

Enkrid scratched his head.

He was asking for help, but wasn't this the kind of thing the person who was supposed to capture him would say?

Still, it was hard to ignore the sincerity in Ropord's voice.

Ropord bowed his head.

The guard captain, wearing a feathered hat, stepped forward.

"If this continues, the citizens of the capital will be severely harmed."

Would the army marching toward the capital just camp quietly?

And these factions, cobbled together?

Among them would surely be mercenaries paid in gold, and many blinded by the thirst for blood. The nobles too would no longer care who they worked with; those infamous figures would surely be involved.

To protect the citizens.

To defend the capital.

The two men bowed their heads.

"Ragna, can you stop them?"

Ragna didn't ask 'why'—he just looked into Enkrid's eyes.

"I'll go and stop them. Dunbakel, come with me."

With Ragna and Dunbakel, they could hold back the elite forces coming in from the front.

"What's your name?"

Enkrid asked Ropord.

"Ropord."

"Go and rally the remaining forces to block the incoming enemy. Hold the gates, and those challenging you to a duel, my men will handle them."

After rescuing Krang, being surrounded by enemy forces would be the end.

Enkrid recognized the situation both instinctively and rationally.

The sense developed from previous experiences, escaping over and over again from battles with enemies, was now guiding his actions.

He knew what needed to be done.

Block the external forces and manage the interior.

If Krang wasn't clueless, what was needed was time.

Enkrid now realized where he stood.

"Let's go."

Ragna, having heard the command, said simply.

It wasn't a request—it was an order. Ragna and Dunbakel turned without a sound.

Meanwhile, Marcus panted heavily, his skin turning pale.

Jaxen came up beside Enkrid.

They climbed over the wall, and the remaining soldiers stood uncertain, turning their heads left and right.

Should they follow Ragna?

Or should they stop the retreating Enkrid?

They saw the fallen officer and the sweat-drenched captain beside him.

"Didn't you take up arms to defend the capital? At least, I did. Those who want to stay, stay."

Squire Ropord spoke.

Everyone has moments of growth and realization.

This was Ropord's moment.

It was sparked by Enkrid's simple words about heading to the royal palace.

"Let's go."

He followed Ragna, and the guard captain followed after. The soldiers who had already made up their minds joined in.

The remaining officers cursed under their breath before saying, "Let's go, to fulfill our duty."

And so, Andrew too set out.

On his own, he knew he couldn't do much at the royal palace, so he chose to stay at the gates and protect the walls. He left five trainees behind.

"We've trained to survive."

One freckled female trainee said.

The five trainees followed Andrew, but as they moved, Andrew shook his head.

"You're servants now. Stay here."

Saying this, he joined the others, following behind them.

Ragna led the way, stumbling forward, with Dunbakel following close behind.

"This looks more fun, doesn't it?"

Ragna nonchalantly nodded.

Squire Ropord, walking beside them, silently shook his head.

Fun? This wasn't the time for that. He walked a little, then spoke. The direction was wrong.

"We should be heading to the west gate."

Ropord spoke.

"Hmm, this way?"

"No, that's north."

Ropord spoke to the man leading the way and took the lead himself.

It seemed his sense of direction was lacking.

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