354 - A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

354. The Quiescence Before the Gates “Hold.” As they approached the city walls, a guard barred their path with the shaft of his spear. Instinctively, Enkried assessed the guard's position, stance, and the direction of his feet. There were two blocking them, with more stationed behind. The skill level of the two in front was, to put it politely, mediocre. Not even worth discussing. 'Rookie level.' In Enkried's and the Crazed Company’s terms, a "rookie" was a soldier with battlefield experience but without formal training, by the standards of the Border Guard's regular army. Enkried locked eyes with a senior guard standing behind the others. The man scowled, as if to say, "Where do you get off glaring?" 'Amateurish.' This was someone who wouldn't even manage to block the draw of a sword. There were more than twenty guards defending the gate. Excluding those inspecting carts and wagons, only four had approached them. Two blocked their path, one senior stood behind them, and the last was a middle-aged man at the very back, wearing a hat adorned with a feather instead of a helmet, askew on his head. He wore a thin, long sword at his waist, and his posture indicated he was of a different caliber altogether. Could he be cut down? Just as Enkried was weighing his options... “You’ve been staring too boldly.” Lem warned as Enkried was startled by the sudden statement from the man with the feathered hat. "Is that so? You’ve been sizing us up, haven’t you?" The man’s head tilted to one side as he spoke. The feathered hat owner was perceptive. His skills likely matched. Enkried nodded without hesitation. “…And you admit it?” The man muttered to himself before raising his voice. “How many of them are there?” He posed the question to his subordinates. The lead guard scrutinized the group. “Seven, including a beastman? What’s with those eyes, and is that a leopard?” The guard looked each member up and down, finding the group inexplicable. Especially the leopard, which was an obvious problem — a beast and a predator. If it caused trouble, it would be a hassle. The guard subtly lowered his spear tip, wary of the leopard. Or perhaps he was just scared. Enkried had nothing to say. Ester was a leopard, but at the Border Guard, it was a non-issue, not worth pointing out. Why? Because she was a mage by his side. People knew mages were mysterious and unique. Some might believe Ester was merely a leopard, which was fine. In their eyes, Ester was simply an animal Enkried kept. Within the Border Guard, no one questioned Enkried’s actions. But this was the capital. Gaining entry was a different matter. Should they turn back here? Escorting Krang to the capital was the mission. Entry itself was a separate issue, not his responsibility. “It’s fine.” Lost in thought, Krang patted Enkried’s shoulder. “Too much dithering means nothing gets done. A sage once told me that, and I’ve foolishly forgotten.” “Hmm?” Enkried looked at Krang, startled at his words given the current situation, and saw Krang’s eyes gleaming. “You’re going to be a knight, aren’t you?” That seriousness made Enkried nod. “Of course.” “Let me ask again. Why are you standing by my side?” Krang murmured repeatedly, while the guards’ tones grew increasingly hostile in front of them. “We can’t let a beast in without a leash. More importantly, do any of you have entry permits?” “Are you mercenaries, announcing your intent to cause trouble?” The feathered hat man was also speaking. Krang needed to question Enkried because he had found the flaw hidden in his words. Not knowing the true worth of what he was protecting was a façade. Once his headache faded, he realized that Enkried didn't act without reason. The claim of protecting something due to ignorance was calculated. What lay within that calculation? That’s what intrigued him. In Krang’s eyes, Enkried was someone who moved straight ahead without wavering. Such a person wouldn’t discuss value for gain, yet he did, implying something was weighing on his mind. That was Krang’s conclusion. “Why did you use that excuse?” Enkried was genuinely impressed. This brat’s perceptiveness could even rival that of the most astute of the Cryes. To call it an excuse, it felt as if his mind had been read. He was part of the Border Guard; he never forgot that. Had Enkried been a fool incapable of weighing consequences, he wouldn’t have survived this long. He was aware of his position and the repercussions his actions might cause. What if Count Molsen threw a fit over this? “Does it bother you?” That was the retort when consulting the wise one with big eyes. An annoying response. “Make excuses and arguments. Insist until the end.” It was an effective strategy. That was his excuse and argument. Was Krang’s worth truly that significant? Enough to have an assassin included? He didn’t know. Because he didn’t know, he decided to save Krang. He dealt with things by jumping into the unknown. That was his entire stance. Yet Krang saw right through it and asked. Can you speak the truth, without excuses? The question’s true intent. “For you.” As Enkried spoke, he pondered. If knights are those who protect, then kings are those who rule. Enkried lacked fervent loyalty to defend Naurelia with unyielding devotion. He wasn’t someone rooted in this land but simply someone born here. Yet this didn’t mean he loved nothing of this country. Enkried cherished the small town of his birth. He couldn’t ignore those who raised him when he otherwise would have starved to death without parents. “It’d be great if war could just disappear,” said the fruit vendor who sliced and shared apples with rotten sections. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if everyone had a bit more sense and lived their lives?” mused the elderly waitress who roasted potatoes on the fire. “War, it’s probably appealing to the young. Tsk tsk,” sighed the old woman who once sold her body to barely survive, pitying her own life. “If there had been no war, I’d have quietly married, had children, and lived making stews.” The old woman's makeshift stew warmed his insides like never before. “You're a genius.” There had been a mercenary who used to declare an orphan a genius and urged them to survive. Although the mercenary had lost a leg and was quite boastful, he cared for the child more than filling his own stomach, taking care to feed the starving street urchin. Enkried's childhood was fraught with hardship and adversity, yet he didn't wholly detest that time. He sincerely didn’t hate it. They were all people living within this country. He knew nothing of the politics of royalty and nobility. However— “You seem like you’ll do well.” Might things change if a man like Krang ascended to the throne? It was an intuition, a prediction. Not being a prophet, it was essentially a gamble for Enkried. “Choose me, Enkried. Become a knight and stand by my side.” Krang spoke as if his words carried weight, an intangible force compelling Enkried. Though it was a personal appeal just for Enkried, he didn’t nod his agreement. Krang, however, was the first to break the silence. “No answer is needed.” Krang said, lifting his head. He found tranquility in the face of the assassin’s threat. It was a realization that came at the end of that peace. ‘Your sword rests at your side while mine lies within.’ It’s in his mind and flows through his blood. Now was the time to wield that sword. “Mathew.” Krang called his guard’s name, prompting him to step forward. The guard’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Who are you?” At Krang's prompt, Mathew spoke. “I proclaim in the name of the singular, noble, and wise Queen of this land that the sole rightful heir of the royal family has arrived.” His words were lofty. The guards blinked in confusion; yet, the senior among them was quick-witted. “What did you just say?” He restrained a subordinate on the brink of using force. “It’s as I said.” The voice of Mathew, Krang’s guard, rang out clearly, heard by everyone. Even amidst the hustle and bustle at the gate, his declaration pierced through to the ears of the crowd around them. “What did that one just say?” “The heir to the throne?” “Are they claiming to be a secret child of the Queen?” Those with a measure of awareness knew this was a tumultuous time for Naurelia. The issue of royal succession is delicate and complicated. The Queen may not be old, but she is childless. Though married, it’s widely known among those in the know that she cannot bear children. “This is outrageous.” Mathew made sure everyone could hear, addressing his words to the senior guard blocking their way. “My master is a descendant of the Naurelia royal family, known as Kridianath Randious Naureli.” Typically, royal names are long. They often incorporate letters from the names of ancestors in crafting their names. Thus, Krang’s name was relatively short. Hidden away as a prince forced to live in obscurity, the full name came later in life. And thus— “Just call me Krang.” Using a nearly ventriloquist-like skill from somewhere, Krang spoke. Enkried turned his gaze toward him as Krang continued. “That’s always been my real name.” That's how he'd been addressed since he was young, making it truly his own. Krang’s claims didn’t feel like lies. ‘I was mistaken.’ Enkried had thought it an alias. Now, it appeared his name was derived from the initial letters of Kridianath Randious, yet he maintained it was his original name, meaning Krang was the name he had always used. “Bow your head before the royal blood!” Mathew shouted. “...I've never heard of an alleged prince. Proof is necessary, don’t you think?” The man in the hat stepped forward behind the senior guard. He was the captain of the South Gate guards. Krang stepped forward to respond to the South Gate captain’s declaration. “What’s required to prove my identity?” “Impersonating royalty is a severe crime.” “Then arrest me and take me away.” Krang replied as he pulled out a pendant from inside his coat. It wasn’t intact; it was half of something larger. It was something Krang had worn around his neck. The pendant bore the clear crest of the royal family. It's a splendid pendant, impossible to replicate with imperfect craftsmanship. Though smaller than a palm and only half of its original, the royal crest was unmistakably engraved. Three swords and the round, flame-maned solar deer. The emblem of the royal family. It was the half featuring the head of the solar deer. “My sister holds the other half, so I’m told.” Only the Queen could verify Krang’s identity with this pendant. Yet should they let him enter based solely on that? The Captain was troubled. Then— “I vouch for him.” It came from behind the Captain. When had he arrived? “I vouch in the name of Marcus Baizar that he is indeed the rightful heir and descendant of the royal family.” The Captain recognized this matter had transcended his authority. “Escort them inside.” He had no choice. To overturn a guarantee made under the name of the Centrefal family was impossible. Now, it was a matter for the people within the palace, the political assassins who kill in the name of diplomacy. He was a man of steel, not silver tongues. Yet, he couldn’t simply let them pass either. ‘I’ll hold the others.’ But the Captain wouldn’t see his wishes fulfilled. “They’re all my people. Are you planning to detain them?” The blond man, who revealed himself as a member of the royal family, stepped forward, smiling. ‘What a mess I’m in.’ Let them pass, and he risked the noble brats pestering him or worse. In less fortunate circumstances, he might be accused of letting rebels in and find his neck on the line. Yet, if he stiffened his resolve and blocked them? Imagine if this fellow were genuine royalty; his head would be forfeit regardless. Even a pronounced fool wouldn’t impersonate royalty publicly at the capital, especially not before the Captain of the guards, making it highly probable his claim was genuine. Thus, he found himself unable to choose either path. In such a bind, Krang continued to speak, his smile unyielding. Each word he uttered stabbed at the Captain’s heart. Which noble, or which person in authority, would dare speak like this? It was content that he, in his lifetime, had never heard before; a command unequivocally unfamiliar. "Tell them it was my insistence. Say it was my stubbornness. Blame it all on me." Along with those words, Marcus nodded in agreement. A shiver ran across his spine. The guard captain was forty this year. At this age, something stirred in his chest, causing his emotions to ripple. ‘Who exactly is this man?’ Before he could voice his thoughts, Marcus Baizar approached and subtly reassured him. “I’ll take measures to ensure you face no repercussions.” The guard captain nodded. His gaze remained fixed on Krang. He appeared to be an exceptionally peculiar and extraordinary person. Enkried and his companions merely observed the proceedings. “Wow, having royal backing really makes a difference,” Lem remarked in awe. As he said, no one obstructed their party. Whether it was the differently eyed beastman or the leopard boldly entering the capital, no one raised objections. They didn’t have time to admire the interior of the capital. Through the guard's notification, a royal escort had arrived from the palace. These were the fabled Royal Guards. They wore matching full plate armor, armed with long spears, and each had a short sword strapped to their left or right hip. On their backs, they carried kite shields at a slant. Each wore a helmet gilded in gold. With their visors lowered, only their eyes and mouths were visible, exuding an aura of intimidation. Their uniform appearance and stern gazes testified to their formidable presence. The Royal Guards encircled the group as they approached. “We will escort you to the royal palace.” Among them, a man with a dull, dark gray helmet, unlike the gilded ones, spoke. It was clear he wore a plain helmet, abstaining from any gilding. Just the sight was enough to impose awe, but none of these were ordinary people. “Do you see them sweating? Must be tough standing out in this heat,” Lem remarked casually. Though Jaxen, as always, kept silent, inside he was relieved; they had been looking for an excuse to get into the palace anyway. Dunbakel rolled his eyes around and whispered. “Are we just going to follow them?” Implying a question—was there truly a need to proceed all the way to the palace, considering its dangers? “Do you want to turn back? Go ahead.” Enkried seemed indifferent, and Dunbakel quickly shook his head. “If the captain stays, so do I.” “Suit yourself.” Enkried’s curiosity was piqued from within. A curiosity regarding Krang and his current actions. This wasn’t a battlefield where words were replaced by steel, yet watching Krang boldly stride ahead, he appeared like a general ready to face a hundred or a thousand foes alone. Observing him, Enkried felt a tingle within his chest. Something about Krang had sparked his own desires. “Want to grow stronger?” Lem's words echoed in his mind. When he naturally nodded at the obvious question, what had Lem then said? Reflecting on that memory, Enkried fixed his gaze on Krang’s back.