CHAPTER 194

"Isn't this too much? Seriously, Captain?"

Krais spoke with his eyes bruised and swollen. Encrid responded while taking off his boots.

"Were your eyes originally blue? That Rem kid, he's got skills. Almost didn't recognize you."

His eyes were so bruised that his eyeballs could hardly be seen. His cheeks were also swollen to a considerable extent.

Clearly, he didn't intend to beat him up this badly.

He might have gone a bit overboard.

There were traces of red paint under his nostrils, probably from a nosebleed.

At Encrid's words, Krais snorted, swallowed, then sighed and said,

"Rem has been a bit too much lately, hasn't he?"

Encrid had to agree if it meant being sensitive.

He's been sharper than usual.

He'd often reach for his axe over things that he'd usually let slide.

For example,

"You should keep your eyes open. Makes me want to split your head with my axe."

He'd suddenly say things like that to soldiers from the neighboring platoon.

There were frequent clashes with Ragna too.

"Hey, picky eater, do you want your head smashed?"

If Rem said that,

"Come out. I'll split your head open and dip it in honey."

Ragna would respond in kind, leading to a fierce sparring session between them.

Encrid's reaction had changed. Previously, he would have intervened immediately, but now he observed first.

There was a lot to learn from their sparring.

By watching closely, he'd often see them end the fight on their own.

Does this mean they've grown up a bit?

Have they moved past picking fights like kids?

"Sigh, sweating feels good. Want to go next?"

After a round, it was Encrid's turn. He'd take what he learned from their fight and apply it in his training. It was indeed enjoyable.

Unlike before, Encrid was more intense, and Rem was quite serious too.

"Feet!"

If his footwork was slow, he'd scold himself.

"Where are you looking?"

Rem would sometimes disappear like magic. Of course, it wasn't magic, but his physical ability.

Even if Encrid's eyes missed him, he'd barely catch him with his senses.

Swing.

He'd swing his blade.

Clang!

Facing off against an axe.

Seriousness was a good sign, and he always felt refreshed after their duels.

But why was he becoming so sensitive?

Disputes between Rem and Ragna were commonplace.

The worst was his relationship with Jaxon.

To Encrid, it seemed utterly pointless, but perhaps it was different for them.

Rem was about to leave while Jaxon was entering, and they stood facing each other at the door.

Neither would move aside.

Rem started to stroke the handle of his axe, while Jaxon dropped his arms.

Encrid couldn't just watch that unfold.

'This is dangerous.'

'How did I used to get between the two of them?'

In the deadly atmosphere, he'd have to squeeze his body in between them, like the 'pressure' exuded by that Squire, Asia, to break up the fight.

"Enough."

Adding a word to it.

"Ahem."

Jaxon would step aside with a small cough, and Rem would walk off silently, without a smile.

Sensitive. Very sensitive.

Of course, it wasn't just Rem who was sensitive.

Ragna often had a similar aura.

Jaxon too.

At least Audin seemed the same as always.

Rem left, saying he'd go on patrol, wishing he'd run into a passing manticore.

Audin said he'd lead the evening prayer and sermon for soldiers from another unit.

There was a group of deeply religious soldiers who revered Audin quite a bit.

Jaxon was, as always, nowhere to be seen, while Ragna was sleeping in a corner of the barracks. Business as usual.

Encrid looked around the barracks and spoke.

"Seems so."

It was the answer to Krais' question about sensitivity. On reflection, Rem did seem quite sensitive.

"But why did the Battalion Commander call for us?"

Satisfied with the agreement, Krais didn't dwell on Rem's sensitivity any longer.

What was the point of talking about someone who was already known to be a lunatic?

Ignoring it was the best answer.

"Escort mission for the mercenary delegation from the Black Blade Bandits."

Krais' eyes widened at the plain statement. When his eyes widened, you could see them through the blue bruises.

But isn't it painful? It looks like it would hurt.

However, Krais didn't seem to mind the pain.

Or maybe now he was feeling it, as he asked with a grim expression.

"You'll do it, right, Captain?"

Encrid nodded, even though he didn't understand why Krais was asking such a question.

The answer to this kind of question was always predetermined.

He understood the need to confirm.

The dream of becoming a Knight was indeed far-fetched.

Although now it didn't feel as shattered and fragmented as it once did, it was still not an easy path.

Encrid knew this well.

Krais wasn't mocking his Company Commander or trying to bring him to reality.

Encrid was a madman.

If he said he'd do something, he'd do it.

If he said he'd save someone, he'd save them.

If he said he'd fight, he'd fight.

'He's not normal.'

Living like that, it's natural he wouldn't live long past twenty, but wasn't the captain thirty-one this year?

It's a wonder how he survived this long.

Anyway, that's the kind of person he was.

And now, that kind of person said he wanted to be a Knight. Since he wasn't one to give up, Krais had roughly researched the process to become a Kingdom's Knight.

What kind of person usually joins a Knightly order?

What kind of people can become squires before becoming Knights?

Most are children of nobles. Or acquaintances of merchant guilds. If not for power and wealth, there are even distant royals.

So, what if they're neither nobles nor children of a reputable family?

Even so, sometimes, very rarely, geniuses are born who awaken incredible talent.

Such people can become Knights solely through their skill, though a bit of luck is also needed.

'But is such a case common?'

Absolutely, definitely not common. Those so-called geniuses?

They'd often get beaten up when they met people from prestigious families who had been systematically trained from a young age.

Learning swordsmanship, awakening talents—these are all easier in the central regions.

The central regions have much higher standards than the borders in terms of teaching, spirit, and sparring partners.

In the center, people with skills gather, and naturally, talented individuals gravitate towards the Royal Palace, where their talents are further honed among their peers.

A true genius.

So unless someone is purely standing on their own skill, it's generally not an easy task.

For those not from particularly distinguished families, the path to Knighthood is arduous, difficult, and full of hardship.

So if we consider the reverse, assuming a genius exists, what does one need to become a Knight?

Skill? Skill is a given.

"You didn't decline, right?"

"Hmm?"

"The mission. You didn't decline it, right? You didn't, right? You must do it. Absolutely."

Besides skill, what is needed is merit.

Proof of having contributed to the country.

Merit becomes honor, and honor validates the individual.

For an outsider, especially a former mercenary, the first task in becoming a Knight is to accumulate merit, which Krais considered even more important than skill.

Therefore, if one truly wants to become a Knight.

"Tell me. Did you refuse it? You didn't, right?"

The mission given by the Battalion Commander might not have been appealing to Encrid.

Krais saw it that way too.

Escorting the delegation?

Who was in that delegation?

Krais's keen mind read between the lines of Encrid's plain words.

It was obvious who would go. That half-witted noble with the odd eyes.

Those two would be the core.

Encrid's strength was being used to replace the escort that would typically require at least a platoon.

Why? Why specifically place Encrid near that noble?

'There's an agenda here.'

The agenda was clear. Control. Either to kill or to create a situation close to that.

The problem would be if that noble noticed and recoiled.

'Was that it?'

Marcus was a fox. A warmonger? Not at all.

To Krais, the Battalion Commander was the slyest of foxes.

He looked like he could shoulder up to a bandit.

In the battle against Aspen, the Green Pearl Battle, after that, Encrid had slain a thousand Knolls. He had slain the colony leader and killed the cultists.

Just last night, he defeated ten skilled fighters from the Black Blade.

Audin had also killed a manticore.

In that process, he had claimed the manticore's carcass, and the higher-ups didn't say much about it.

If they wanted compensation, they would have to give something.

The Battalion Commander had buried all these achievements starting from the knolls. He hadn't publicized them but subtly passed them over.

He let those who believed in them believe while allowing the wild rumors to spread unchecked.

Why?

Was it because he disliked Encrid? Not likely.

'The reason to crouch down and sit on the ground is.'

To jump higher.

He hid and deceived. The deception was focused on one thing: the skill of Encrid and the Madmen Platoon.

By hiding that, what gains were there?

Krais's mind raced. This might tire out others, but for him, it was easy.

Why wouldn't it be?

To survive, he had moved with even more in mind.

Compared to then, this was safe and only required thinking while sitting down.

Following this train of thought leads to an answer.

What drives the battlefields on the current continent?

It's the 'Knights' who break strategies and tactics.

Even among mercenaries, those at 'Knight level' were the ones making such impacts.

The term 'Knight level' also arose because some races had those who were comparable to Knights.

Thus, a small number of elite soldiers have long been the key to leading strategies.

Of course, no commander relies solely on a single Knight in a large-scale battle.

In the previous battle against Aspen, it was the victory of the Border Guard Reserve Unit in an outer skirmish that changed the overall flow of the battlefield.

'It's a war.'

All this is preparation for war. Hiding our strength will become a critical move against the enemy.

'This is the first step for that.'

It seemed as if the swelling in Krais's eyes had gone down.

To Encrid, it appeared that way.

'Pointlessly shining.'

His eyes were brighter than the Battalion Commander's had been earlier.

"If you had refused..."

Refused? No way.

"I said I'd do it."

"Wow, oh, thank goodness. It's really important now. Because..."

"I know."

"No, it's not just what it seems. This escort mission is not just an escort."

"They're asking us to kill that guy."

At Encrid's words, Krais blinked. His bruised blue eyes seemed to say it all.

Ah, he's not an idiot.

"Your eyes are insolent."

"Pardon?"

"Never mind."

He couldn't hit someone who was already so beaten. Encrid let it go.

"Merit, it's a step towards becoming a Knight. I know."

That's why it's important.

Marcus had a wider reach and a higher position than expected.

The mission of escorting the delegation wasn't directly related to gaining merit.

But he knew the start and end of this task wouldn't be simple.

Not by reason or conjecture.

It was just a feeling.

Instinct and sixth sense.

After his senses sharpened and he became more sensitive, he sometimes had piercing intuitions.

This was one of those times.

This task, it can't be left alone.

So there was no reason to refuse.

"No, I was worried you might refuse it because it interfered with training. But yes, merit. Right now, it's more important than anything else. Merit is more important than skill. Actually, there might even be those in the Knighthood who are there just for their merit. No matter how skilled the Red Cape Knights are, they can't be free from power dynamics."

Encrid was also somewhat cynical about it deep down.

"So I've decided to take the two of them."

Will he take the opportunity to kill if it arises?

Or will he act according to the situation?

How far had Marcus thought this through?

And what would Encrid choose?

He had accepted the mission.

Next, things would change based on his choices.

"The two, who?"

Krais asked.

"Not you."

Encrid gave Big Eyes a light tap on the head and then turned away.

Esther would probably come along without needing to be told.

"Oh, I can't. I'm busy."

Finn declined first.

Would a ranger be needed for this task?

Probably not. A good ranger is always a great companion, but this time, there didn't seem to be a need for a guide.

"I'm taking Rem and Ragna."

He was concerned about their sensitivity. Keeping Jaxon and Rem apart seemed wise.

Keeping Rem and Ragna close should prevent any major incidents.

Jaxon and Audin were more indifferent, so they could stay behind.

Krais nodded, understanding the strategic selection.

"So you're planning to kill them all."

"...Hmm?"

That wasn't Encrid's intention. The mission was the mission, and he intended to faithfully carry out the escort on the surface.

"With Rem, well, you'll have to keep him in check until you're out of sight of the unit. As for the bodies, yes, you'll need to bury them, so pack a folding shovel in your backpack."

Hmm.

Encrid was about to deny it but then recalled thinking it would be bad if that noble brat and Rem crossed paths a few days ago.

Well, he'd find a way to manage it.

Rem wasn't completely unmanageable.

"So when do we leave?"

"Tomorrow."

Phew.

Krais tried to whistle but failed because his lips were too swollen.

"That's pretty urgent."

Instead of whistling, Krais added a few more words, mumbling that it made sense.

Encrid was considering whether to take a prisoner as a guide.

Taking Rem and Ragna should ensure they didn't lack strength.

Above all else.

Encrid looked down at his own palm.

It was calloused. From repeatedly wielding a sword, his hand had been torn and healed countless times, leaving it scarred and rough.

The fingerprints at the tips of his fingers were worn down to the point of being erased.

He had used his fingertips a lot while training in the Tangum style.

Expecting the fruits of one's labor, desiring some reward—it's only natural for humans. If, after enduring and enduring, one finally managed to grasp a reward with their fingertips, how would it feel?

'Not bad.'

Encrid muttered out of habit.

He was slightly filled with confidence from what he had built up so far.

Moreover, he didn't rely solely on repeating today as before.

There was no ferryman in his mind.

He was merely considering the path ahead once more.

The path to advance and walk on.

A path with milestones, where the destination was clearer than before.

He had no intention of ignoring merit, separate from his training.

He wouldn't hesitate to stand at the forefront of the battlefield.

It was no longer a time when he had to wrack his brain just to survive.

When charging at the knolls.

When facing the Black Blade.

Thump.

It was enjoyable. Honestly, it was extremely enjoyable.

The moment of stepping forward rather than hiding behind.

"I want to become a Knight."

When he first expressed his dream as a child, Encrid had a vision.

Standing in front of someone.

Standing at the forefront of the battlefield.

Standing at the forefront and proving his skills was a different kind of proof than before.

The source of his dream to become a Knight was the little boy who envisioned himself fighting on the battlefield.

The boy born in a rural village had, in the end, reached part of his dream and was still moving forward even now.

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