353 - A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

353. Who's the Craziest? "Make all the ministers your allies." Crang recalled the queen's words. It was a meeting not in the formal audience chamber, but at a secret location. 'What was the first question she asked?' Crang remembered the moment. It was when Enkried spoke to the wild horse with mismatched eyes. "Shall we go?" Ah, that madman. Where does he intend to go? Why does the wild horse nodding its head seem to understand? The moment he witnessed this, the conversation he had with the queen flashed back in his mind with precise clarity. "Why should I relinquish the throne?" The queen had asked, and he had answered. Whether it was a commendable response, he wasn't certain. He merely expressed what he believed. "The throne should be held by someone who swears to protect the kingdom." That was the end of his brief reply. "There remains one who can pose the same question." The queen did not assess the answer. She merely stated it calmly. In a gesture of respect for the queen's intent, Crang bowed his head. The conversation that followed was more pragmatic. "Even the nobles are divided into factions. Can you discern them all?" "Not even a sorcerer skilled in mind-reading could do that." Predicting climate changes is extremely difficult. One must read the flow of water and understand nature’s transformations to make it possible. Even the sorcerers who manage such difficult tasks cannot fathom the ever-changing minds of humans in real-time. "I might predict how much rain will fall next month, but I won't be able to fathom the mind of the farmer who will till the ground here." This became a renowned proverb across the continent. Whether or not such a conversation actually took place is unknown, but the meaning conveyed by the proverb is clear. Someone who swore allegiance to you yesterday might waver tomorrow for a few gold coins. That's human nature. Especially politicians, who change as often as morning, noon, and evening, and again before dawn. ‘It's unpredictable.’ How could one ever decipher each and every change of heart? But it may be possible to guide as intended. Through intimidation, threats, promises of reward, by discerning their desires and ambitions. While a sorcerer might not be able to do this, a politician or strategist—those who pride themselves on their cunning—can read the intentions of others. It's a craft performed not by the mystique of spells but by insight. ‘Identify the factions, make all the ministers your allies.’ He understood the queen’s wish. Could he fill the audience chamber with his allies? It's difficult. An ordinary person might say that's impossible. How many factions are there in the current palace of Nawrilia? Even the queen doesn't know. Those who have become pawns of major trading companies. Some nobles plotting the foundation of a new nation based on their territories. Or those who have pledged allegiance under a different grand noble. And within this, those who stalwartly swore allegiance to the royal house. None of them were on Crang’s side. Thus, it is extraordinarily difficult. But. ‘The process will be arduous and grueling.’ Indeed, it will be. Yet there is a way. Crang nodded in understanding of the queen's words. "As you command." "May the goddess of fortune favor you." The god the queen believes in governs the sun and the moon, one of balance and judgment. Nevertheless, the queen spoke of the goddess of fortune. A testament to the tumultuous future that awaits Crang. "Good luck. May the fairness of the balance guide you." Crang ended the conversation by mentioning the god his sister believed in. The queen had no children. Therefore, there couldn't be any heirs. Crang was a child born to the previous king. What was the intention behind hiding a child born in the old age of the previous king? Certainly, it wasn't to prepare him for the throne. But circumstances became tangled and twisted, and the palace turned into a chaotic marketplace. No, it was more like an arena. Some inflated themselves to appear threatening, while others hid daggers behind their backs. It was he who stepped into this treacherous ground. ‘Make the ministers your allies.’ These were the words that kept resurfacing since meeting the queen. For this, Crang pondered dozens of dilemmas every day, making numerous decisions. There is a way. The path is simply arduous. As a result, he constantly felt as though his head might split from headaches. Upon seeing Enkried, the laughter helped alleviate the headache somewhat, yet the persistent, subtle pain continued to throb in his head. Crang had grown accustomed to it. Because this is the path he chose. A path better described as a thorny one. Understanding it all too well, but without any thought of turning back or giving up. Had the man before him not shown him? ‘What do you want to become?’ ‘A knight.’ He had asked and received an answer. It wasn't absurd. Hearing that a person who lounged around in a corner estate reciting poetry now wanted the throne would have been much less appealing. Most importantly, it was an answer that felt genuine. The words of the queen and Enkried mingled within Crang's mind. It could have been confusing, yet it was calming. The headaches might have intensified, but they didn't. For a fortnight, Crang felt unprecedented peace amid the threats of assassins. It was solely due to the abilities of these people. Is it because of this? Having found some peace of mind? "Riding." Enkried conversed with the horse and mounted the wild stallion. With a leap, he was atop without the horse lowering itself. Enkried kicked off the ground and took to the air. His body floated sideways. He leaned his torso forward and stretched his legs backward. An unusual position to leap. Enkried’s body seemed to halt just above the wild horse before landing in the saddle. He exerted the right amount of force, suspended himself perfectly, then halted his body at the peak to ride the horse. An astonishing feat. That human weight, including gear, was placed upon the strabismus-afflicted wild horse. A thudding sound ensued, but the horse remained unfazed. It was as steadfast as if mounted on a pedestal. Both the endurance of the horse and the movements of the rider are remarkable. ‘Without even grasping the mane?’ In one fluid motion, Enkried executed what seemed to be a standing jump onto the saddleless horse. "What are you up to?" Rem queried from behind Enkried, while Ragna simply observed in silence. Dunbakel displayed curiosity, and Saxen watched with a peculiar expression. "I'll be back." Without a backward glance, Enkried vanished. Thud! Crang gasped with astonishment. What in the world? It was as if the horse was splitting the ground beneath it as it bolted with a speed unmatched by any ordinary stallion. The deafening sound of hooves striking the earth reverberated as the horse carved a trail across the landscape. Enkried seemed to meld seamlessly with the horse, lowering himself close to its body. At that moment, Crang felt as if half of his burdensome worries had been lifted. Beyond shock, his thoughts cleared. Seeking a definitive answer, he had agonized over whether a better solution existed. With this resolve, his headaches had emerged. "Heh." Crang allowed himself a small laugh. Enkried didn't bother with worries. His run wasn't about capturing the distant archer, but simply because the horse desired to run. "That guy’s mad." Crang remarked. "You're only realizing this now?" The gray-haired barbarian agreed from beside him. "Isn't he your leader?" "Indeed. But madness is madness. Be cautious; they’re all a bit unhinged." Rem gestured beside his head with a twirling finger, equating the entire unit with Enkried’s level of insanity. Hearing this, Ragna turned away. He was watching the direction Enkried had run, but couldn't ignore Rem’s words. "His hobby is splitting heads with an axe. He's indiscriminate, so be wary." "Don't listen to him. There's a lazy demon inside." "Look who's talking." Saxen interjected, with Rem continuing, "He's got dozens of scheming feral cats in him, so better be careful. I would advise keeping your distance. Don't forget, he might try something with you." "Wow, you're the one saying that?" Dunbakel scoffed. "He's a pitiful beastman with a head injury. Understand, it's from childhood." Rem added. "Who has a head injury!" Ah, these collective madmen. Yet, Crang was a man who refrained from voicing these thoughts aloud. "Is this really the time to fight?" His casual words were enough to divert their attention. Already, Crang’s lively tone had returned, reminiscent of when he first met Enkried. Previously, he had spoken with a weighty seriousness, but this was his natural way. "Just be careful." Rem glanced sidelong at Crang, leaving him with a final word. Crang turned his gaze. The aftermath of Enkried’s run was visible—the earth torn apart by his wild ride. A mad dash that relinquished overthinking. His tangled mind, previously foggy, now felt clear. ‘Act, don’t overthink.’ En route to the palace, countless unresolved issues had vanished. The headache too, had dissipated. It felt refreshing, like waking to a sunny day after a good night’s sleep. Incidentally, the sun was shining brightly. "Quite the runner." Crang commented in admiration. Now, the unified figure of horse and rider was but a speck in the distance. "Indeed, that wild horse seems more than capable of carrying a rider, doesn’t it?" Crang wondered why this man, Rem, insisted on staying close by. He’d prefer some space. Because truth be told, Rem seemed the craziest of them all. * * * Enkried didn’t literally understand the mismatched-eyed horse. Communicating with such creatures usually required a druid. Ester understood this. The leopard’s lazy eyes scanned Enkried's back. She knew that what Enkried was doing had nothing to do with magic or spells. Enkried understood the wild horse’s signals through instinct. It was possible because Skylark, as they called the horse, had intelligence unmatched by beasts. Skylark expressed his desires and intentions clearly. With neighs, gestures, and actions. Enkried understood and mounted him. It was shortly after he’d signaled Rem to protect Crang. Left unchecked, the men might only watch as Crang perished. Thus, mounting Skylark with a solid thud, he felt an energy unlike any standard mount. A fiery force radiated from every mane, fluff, and muscle. ‘Will?’ Something akin to it, at least. It was reminiscent of the refusal’s will, the momentary acceleration, felt through the crushing sword. "Who are you?" Barely whispering atop the horse. The perspective lowered slightly. ‘I will run.’ This time, there was no movement, no sound, but the intention was crystal clear. Enkried immediately lowered his body, and Skylark took off. Boom! Have you ever seen a horse split the ground as it charges forward? ‘I’m riding one now.’ It was incredibly fast. The world raced past in lines. Enkried felt as though the will propelled him in an unending, accelerated sprint. Adapting was not difficult. "Damn!" Suddenly he was right behind an archer, and the archer exclaimed. Though its horse was a fine steed, it was nowhere near the level of a semi-demonic stallion. Skylark closed in on the horse’s tail and adjusted its speed. Bending its knee joints, then straightening to slow, Skylark edged beside the pursued horse and rammed its body sideways. Thump! From the archer’s perspective, he fell sideways the instant he shouted "Damn." Such was the swiftness and decisiveness of the charge. Though they collided, Enkried atop Skylark felt no shock. Skylark absorbed and dispersed almost all the impact with its body. ‘Crazy Skylark.’ Thinking this, Enkried threw a cheap dagger. With a whistle, it embedded in the archer’s neck. "Let’s go further." He spoke, and "Neigh!" As Skylark ran, it seemed to respond with a neigh that sounded like understanding. Why it suddenly decided to carry him and dash off was a mystery. Was it fired up by competitive spirit, seeing others fleeing? Enkried's guess hit the mark. Unhappy with its own name, Skylark was similarly displeased by the sight of fleeing foes tauntingly saying, "You can't catch us." Though a trivial reason, it held significant meaning for a beast that had made running its life's purpose. "Let’s go." Enkried swiftly captured four more archers. After that, similar attempts disappeared. As he returned to the party, Skylark galloped twice as fast as other horses and stopped with the grace of a falling feather. A natural-born runner. "Good work. Does that horse let just anyone ride it?" As he reunited with the group, Crang inquired. Enkried noticed a slight change in Crang's tone. He seemed more at ease, as if a burden had been lifted. Previously, Crang acted as though he had swallowed a pebble. Despite that, they exchanged jokes and performed their duties well. ‘This suits him better.’ A brief thought. As Enkried dismounted and they resumed their journey, Crang struck up a conversation. "What will you do once you become a knight?" "I'm thinking of ending the war." Crang’s pupils constricted at those words. "Just a single knight?" Could he truly refer to a knight as "just one"? Such words stem from magnanimity. "Why? Is it not allowed?" "No." After uttering the words, Crang shook his head. There was no choice for him. Their dreams aligned. Yet, to truly bring an end, ferocity and greater conflicts might be necessary. A feeling paradoxically contradictory. Such was the case. Now, there were no worries. Amusingly enough, watching Enkried dash on a wild horse made some concerns feel quite unnecessary. "Shall we spar with swords someday?" "Anytime." Crang seemingly no longer cared about the threat of assassins. He conversed with everyone, including Enkried. He quickly befriended the others. To be precise, he reached a point where he could at least exchange words with them. “You're said to be notoriously bad with directions?” “No, I just prioritize the right path over the fast one.” He spoke with Ragna. "You really seem quite eerie." "If a barbarian forces you, you could shake even a carrot." Upon sharing boiled carrots for dinner, he conversed with Saxen. "Your hobby is splitting your superior’s head with an axe?" "Who said that? It’s not a hobby, but a specialty." He chatted and chuckled with Rem. "You seem a bit mad." "Do you know who’s truly the craziest? It’s our leader." And Rem revealed a secret. "Are you sure you're a beastman? Not a weretiger?" "My beast form is a white lion. Wouldn't saying that in front of me make you want a bite?" "Enki will be angry." “…You’re a sly one. Were you always like this?" He teased Dunbakel. Before they knew it, they were nearly at Nawrilia, the capital. After running for over a fortnight consistently. “Why won’t it let me ride?” Rem consistently attempted to mount Skylark afterwards, to no avail. Moreover, Enkried himself refrained from riding it again either. He implied that for normal speeds, other horses would suffice. Finally, the capital was before them. A place with more sturdy walls stretching out than any city. The heart of Nawrilia, where the king’s quarters lay, housed within the city’s castle. It was Nawril, the capital. On approaching, Crang instinctively straightened his back and squared his shoulders. As dawn broke, sunlight bathed the walls. From dull dark gray, they gradually brightened. Come night, those walls would softly illuminate their surroundings. This was an ancient magic. The spectacle of absorbing sunlight was itself breathtaking. As Crang took in the sight, he spoke with a resolute posture. "I realized something." "What?" Enkried, who was admiring the walls nearby, asked. Crang responded promptly. "The craziest person is still you." What sort of nonsense was this? Had he been spending too much time around Rem? Enkried began to worry about Crang's well-being.