327 - A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Chapter 327. A resounding cheer erupted from behind Rem, Teresa, and Audin. Understandably, the news from the Green Pearl encampment had swiftly reached Border Guard as if carried by the wind. It was the return of a hero who had defeated the Black Sword, the cultists, and Azpen. It would have been stranger if there hadn't been any cheering. Erylid watched as something akin to flower petals descended from above. There weren’t many. They were scattered, dried petals. He could see the ones who scattered them: a few small children and some women. Erylid recognized one child's face, as well as one of the women's. The child’s eyes were bright and fixed on him. "A future herbalist, he said." Since it was winter, the child must have had to seek out flowers that bloomed even in the cold. They would have found those petals, picked them, and carefully dried them. How much effort must they have put into this? White and pink dried petals fell above his head, not many, but the sentiment and sincerity were unmistakably conveyed. Erylid smiled. The child, whose dream was to be an herbalist, looked at Erylid’s face. Seeing his hero smile, the child felt an unprecedented happiness. Even though gathering winter petals had left their fingertips cracked and chapped, it would remain a joyful experience. Erylid walked past the child and entered inside. As he moved forward, Rem joined on his right. "Did you have a fun adventure?" "Quite." Even though the news had spread, it was unlikely they knew everything that had happened. "Brother, you seem quite worn out." Audin spoke from behind. Worn out? He had nearly reached the brink of death. He'd been dripping with blood, Quarrels hanging from his back. Just when he thought he'd recovered, a knight showed up and landed another blow. Resting and eating well at the Green Pearl camp had barely brought him to this point. "I’m just a little banged up," he replied with a half-joking tone. "My Lord, Father, why have you given him such a frail body?" Audin’s prayer was clearly spoken about Erylid's condition. Objectively, Erylid’s physique was well-developed, comparable to a beast's. Even without disciplined training, his innate muscular build was impressive, akin to that of a beast. To rival them meant his body was robust. But to Audin, it might have seemed insufficient. Wasn’t Audin's bear-like religious zealot body like a fusion of beast and giant? "There's always room for improvement," came Audin’s murmured response, as Erylid continued walking. As they moved forward, Ragna appeared on his left, his right arm still heavily bandaged and yet to heal fully. His thigh wound, however, seemed fine as he walked without issue. Ragna, too, had been as battered as the rest, but aside from his right arm, he was mostly healed now. Following behind Rem was Dunbacle, and alongside Audin, Teresa, who limped along. The cheers grew louder. "Rem the Undying!" The soldiers and citizens alike would vividly remember the battle against the Black Sword and the cultists, hence the moniker “Rem the Undying” surfaced. Occasional cheers aimed at Audin and Teresa were mixed in. The nickname “Giant Siblings” was amusing but drew no laughter. Dunbacle grouched about his lack of a nickname. As they walked, sporadic shouts from a few boisterous women could be heard. “Take me!” “To take what?” Rem retorted. “Not you!” “I wouldn’t take you even if you were offered!” The conversation shouted amidst the cheering suggested the woman was quite formidable herself. Upon seeing the woman, Erylid recalled she was a merchant raising two children on her own, whom he’d seen in passing. Her resilience was praiseworthy, a steadfastness that demanded respect. Cheers continued and voices chanted Erylid’s name all around. Half of this triumphant return was orchestrated by the lord's preparations; the other half came from the citizens' spontaneous participation. In truth, even the lord’s efforts were no different from genuine voluntary involvement. It was a heartfelt welcome. Erylid pondered as he returned to Border Guard. What if Azpen had won? How would they cope with such a dreadful outcome? What would the king think of him being thrashed immediately upon becoming the lord? Would they take any action or reprimand? It would be fortunate if he didn't lose his head over a defeat. “Woohoo!” Even the lord let out beast-like cheers for this reason. “Handsome!” “Enduring Sword!” “Great Sword!” Once again, Erylid realized that words spread quicker than even the swiftest mounted messengers. Even before the carriage arrived, news of this event had already circulated. There was a scouting party that left for Border Guard ahead, undoubtedly they shared the story, which explains how word spread so quickly. Moving through the cheers, Erylid patted the aspiring herbalist child's head. He nodded briefly to a middle-aged woman selling seasoned jerky. When the innkeeper Vanessa called, “Marry me!” he retorted with, “Are you crazy?” On the ride back, reflecting on the lessons learned during these ‘days’ was his foremost concern. Thus, the current warm reception was unexpected. Perhaps that’s why it felt even more delightful. To deny dreaming of such moments when he yearned to become a knight would be deceitful. There’s the child he protected. There’s the mother of that child. There’s the person who thanked him for protecting their son. There’s the cobbler who gifted him boots. All these people within the city walls, living their daily lives. His satisfaction at protecting them with his sword would be dishonest if he claimed otherwise. Yet the world remains indifferent. The demonic realm continually unleashes monsters, spawning even more horrors, and wars spurred by various factions’ interests will always guarantee death as a consequence. An end to war, a knight longing for its conclusion. An end of the world, a knight standing at its brink. Reflecting on his dreams, Erylid entered the barracks. It was the middle of winter, with much time still needed before spring's arrival. To others, it might have seemed like just a few days, but for Enclid, it was a long return from the battlefield, marked by three intense days that felt like an eternity. * * * “Did you finally ditch that stray cat?” Enclid, trying to relax in the barracks, was approached by Rem with this sudden question. Before he could even reply, Rem nodded to himself. “Good job. Well done.” He was referring to Saxen. Would Rem be even more pleased if Enclid confirmed he left Saxen behind? It seemed unlikely that Rem truly believed such a claim. It was more of a casual inquiry, lacking genuine interest, so Enclid gave an appropriate response. “Is it mine to leave or keep?” “Then where did that prickly cat go if not ditched?” In reality, the feline-like Ester, the leopard, was nowhere in sight. She must have been busy since she disappeared as soon as they arrived. “What if it died?” Enclid asked, curious about how Rem would react. Why was the possibility of death not on the table? After all, he had lost count of how many times he’d nearly died fighting Azpen. Rem snorted. “That rascal wouldn’t die so easily.” This roundabout comment was an acknowledgment of Ester’s abilities. “Hmm.” Did that mean he believed the same of himself? That he wouldn’t die easily either? As if on cue with Enclid’s thoughts, Rem added: “The captain must have a special favor with the goddess of fortune. I knew you’d survive.” Even though it was far from true, from another’s perspective, it seemed a valid point. How had he made it out alive? If he had to answer such a question, he would be at a loss for words. “It was luck,” didn't quite suffice as an explanation this time. Rem quickly lost interest in the stray cat, Saxen, and instead prodded Enclid to share what had happened during his mission. As Enclid narrated, Audin interrupted occasionally to add his thoughts. “Dislocation? More muscles are needed, Brother.” “Build a back so strong that quarrels can't puncture it, Brother.” Building muscles impervious to arrows seemed impossible unless one had the hardened skin of a giant, didn’t it? Rem and Audin weren’t the only ones listening to the story. Everyone was attentive. Even Ragna seemed to be listening intently. To Grandeus, this was crucial. At the Green Pearl camp, he’d wanted to ask but hadn’t had the opportunity. That pest, Garrett, had kept the captain occupied the entire time. He had wanted to ask in the carriage before their return, but Enclid had his eyes closed the whole way, showing no sign of wanting to talk. It wasn’t the right atmosphere to interrupt, so now was the moment. ‘How did he escape?’ Grandeus had thoroughly examined the battlefield from which Enclid had emerged, searching every inch to understand what the Azpen commanders had done. ‘Magic, sorcery.’ He didn’t know all the details, but he was aware of the basic events that unfolded. The conclusion was that they had poured all their forces into taking down one man. Realizing he hadn’t anticipated this made Grandeus feel guilty. ‘I nearly got him killed with my own intelligence.’ It was he who had first suggested introducing unpredictability, and although the captain followed through of his own accord, Grandeus understood that he had been completely outwitted. ‘They read me.’ The enemy had anticipated all his strategies and played him perfectly. It was embarrassing to think of how predictable he must have been in hindsight. In the past, when observing the strategy of other commanders, he often puzzled over what was in their heads. Why didn’t they see the obvious things he did? Initially, he thought they were purposely turning a blind eye. But now he understood that everyone thinks within different confines. ‘How arrogant I was.’ His self-reflection was brief. Since Enclid had said everything was fine, he harbored no negative feelings. Yet one mystery still lingered. “How did you make it out?” Grandeus posed the question. The enemy’s setup was an inescapable trap, a snare using the terrain as a net. They had deployed a thousand soldiers and manipulated the ground in their favor. ‘No one could escape it.’ Not without being a knight. Did that mean Enclid was a knight? No, because there had been one who charged through, swinging a sword, and Enclid seemed relieved as that figure departed. Grandeus had often feared for the day when a knight might go half-mad and turn back to attack. The anxiety gnawed at him. How many knights did Azpen have if three of them came here? And among them, one came to cut down their captain? It was an unbelievable story. So, he had to know. How did Enclid escape? He wasn’t a knight, nor did he predict the enemy’s strategy. They had walked right into the trap. Could it really have been luck that let him escape? ‘Unless the goddess of fortune herself grabbed his wrist and pulled him along.’ It was nonsense. Since childhood, Grandeus had been practical and rational, his icy mind always focusing on the present. Luck couldn't explain it. Grandeus looked at Enclid with a serious expression. What was so hard about sharing the story? Having no reason to keep it a secret, Enclid spoke honestly. “Instinct.” Silence followed. The winter wind gusted outside the barracks. Rem was the first to break the silence with laughter. “Haha, I figured as much.” Others followed with their reactions. “…Instinct?” Grandeus tilted his head in confusion, and Audin began a prayer. “Father, did you guide him?” Dunbacle crinkled his nose as he cautiously asked: “How do you nurture such instincts?” Of course, nobody had an answer. Teresa gazed intently at Enclid. Since they met, he had never spoken a lie, and she believed he spoke the truth now. It was astonishing. How could one escape a battlefield merely on instinct? Despite her injuries, a yearning surged within Teresa. She wanted to wield her sword. She longed to stand and face him, shield in hand. As the tension rose between them, Audin intervened gently. "Sister," he said, adding a firm hand to her shoulder, clearly indicating that if she didn't restrain herself, things might not end well. Teresa realized that in her current condition, she couldn’t fight as she wished, and she certainly didn't want to provoke a confrontation with Audin. She was not a beast, merely a half-giant. "Yes, I understand. The wandering Teresa exercises restraint," she said, recognizing the moment for what it was and referring to herself objectively. Ragna had already dozed off in a corner. He had listened to part of the story but quickly reverted to his usual indifferent demeanor, uninterested in the world’s affairs even after the warm reception they received, including the shouts for Ragna too. Grandeus, deep in thought after listening to Enclid, finally spoke again. "Could you elaborate a bit more?" It wasn’t a matter to be summed up in just the word “instinct.” Enclid elaborated easily, and Grandeus understood. "So, you mean a sense for detecting danger, a perception for reading the battlefield’s flow? Is that possible?" Hearing the murmured phrase, Enclid inwardly nodded. It was indeed possible, but certainly not easy. To attain such intuition, he’d had to face countless near-deaths. And yet, he held no complaints. Was he not satisfied with what he had gained? Throughout the journey back, he had been in a semi-conscious state, busy sorting through what he had learned and acquired. It brought new realizations and lessons. "Amazing," Grandeus muttered, though this affair earned no monetary reward, yet his eyes were alight with interest. Enclid’s return marked the passing of several busy days. There were murmurs of holding a feast, but immediate post-battle matters took precedence. They needed to handle the bodies of the fallen and the corpses of the monstrous beasts. Properly skinned, the wolf beast hides turned into valuable coin. Although tanning was required, a leather crafting guild was well-established within Border Guard. Yet it was labor-intensive work. Compensation for the deceased soldiers' families had to be arranged, and burials or cremations carried out. Fires on the outskirts of Border Guard would not cease for some time. Graham sincerely wished to hold a feast, but there was no opportunity. Letters flooded in, and unexpected visitors arrived as well. Two particularly significant guests sought Enclid. The problem was: “He can’t come now,” said the lieutenant, causing Graham to sweat anxiously. “Why?” “His unit is blocking anyone from disturbing him, saying he mustn't be interrupted right now.” Damn it. Graham opted to delay as best as he could. If those wild ones started causing trouble, there’d be no easy solution. Better he manage the situation here himself than deal with that chaos. Being a lord was no easy task. He sighed, momentarily longing for his days as the commander of the heavy infantry. It brought a natural sigh from his lips.