359 - A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

359. Sachsen Bensino "The biggest issue in the capital right now is undoubtedly the factions, and the groups that have been engaging in factional fights are now practically preparing for war." Andrew spoke within the limits of what he knew, and Encrid mentally combined that with what Lem had mentioned. "There’s nothing decent to buy. They're all peddling junk." This was Lem's observation after surveying the markets in the capital. There are plenty of people and goods, but when you try to buy something... "It's unavailable. It's already ordered by Lord So-and-so of House Such-and-such." They're treating everything like military provisions. Weapons and food aren’t circulating smoothly. And what does that suggest? 'They must be stationing their troops around the area.' If things go south within the capital, they’ll call their forces inside. The problem is, this isn't happening with the queen’s approval. "Even the Royal Guard is divided into several factions. That’s why absurd things are happening." "Absurd things?" It was a habit of Encrid’s to follow up on absurdities. He maintained the best posture to encourage the speaker. Andrew continued prattling on without pause. "Yes, absurd indeed. They’re assassinating one another, and this Inquisitor fellow comes around accusing people of heresy and taking them away. Lately, there are even animal sounds echoing at night, and people are disappearing every few days." "This is the capital." "Yes, the capital. I know. It's a big city. Disappearances aren't rare in such a large city. But this is unusually frequent. Yet there's no commander to investigate the assassinations or incidents. Even the gate guards do what they can, but they’re effectively tied up." Encrid crossed his arms. Andrew's face visibly flushed under the worn table’s lighting. It was not a topic he could discuss calmly. Encrid looked at Andrew's flushed face and asked, "And with one of the royal bloodlines arriving here?" "It's like adding fuel to the fire. It incites the faction nobles, who were just watching, to draw their swords. We know the purpose: to end the factional disputes, supposedly, by entering the capital.” End the fights? Naturally, a question arises. "How?" Elevating curiosity about his methods. Andrew shrugged, raising both hands. "I don’t know how." Kran would handle Kran’s matters. Then, what should Encrid do? When coming to the capital, what was he most looking forward to? 'Should I leave without even meeting a single knight?' The chance to fight, to train, to open his eyes—those were his hopes. Listening quietly to Andrew’s tales, it seemed members hidden by the faction nobles would eventually emerge. They would engage, fight to the death. Thinking of that, excitement stirred within him. Just as he had realized while teaching apprentices, going to the palace would present new opportunities. If no answer emerges from deep contemplation, sometimes acting on pure instinct is the right path. That is what Encrid did. To stand by a favored friend and dance with the sword once more. Considering someone’s warning, he decided to do so. Is this an impulsive decision? "What are you thinking about so seriously?" Lem asked beside him. Lem was one to go along with whatever decision Encrid made. "Considering cutting the queen down and becoming a faction noble myself." Just said whatever came to mind. "What, you want to fight? I like it. Good." This madman seemed to hear nothing but a call to battle in what had just been said. Typical of Lem. “What did you just say...?” “Joking.” After calming down a surprised Andrew. Once he had somewhat organized what needed to be done in his mind, Encrid felt a chilling sensation run down his spine. He instinctively turned around. In the corner of the reception room, leaning against a pillar and partially hidden in the shadows, stood Sachsen. “Hey, want to take a walk?” Judging by his eyes, leaving him alone seemed dangerous. When had he last seen eyes like that? When emotions with Lem had escalated to the point where they were about to draw swords, he remembered. Meaning, Sachsen appeared to be on the verge of drawing his sword too. Why all of a sudden? Had Sachsen also been attacked? No, it was for another reason. He knew instinctively. ‘He said he needed to come to the palace.’ That must have been the cause. “Let’s go.” Sachsen answered and moved outside. Was it an illusion that he seemed to restrain some impulse? “Were you drugged or something?” Lem murmured. “I’m heading out.” Encrid followed Sachsen's lead. Outside the mansion, they walked between the shadows. A gust of wind swept through, ruffling their hair. They soon walked side by side. Encrid nodded as he took in the moonlight, the starlight, and the far-off braziers’ glow. They walked along the dark path, close to the mansion's walls. “I have something I must do.” Sachsen first broke the silence. “Yeah, I see.” Encrid nodded. Sachsen would handle whatever it was. “To do that, I need to get something done, but it’s rather tricky, and I’m troubled.” “Troubled?” It wasn't a word that seemed to fit Sachsen. Encrid pondered for a moment. He had a feeling something needed to be said but wasn’t sure what he could offer. “It involves killing a person.” Sachsen said. Well, yes, figured as much. Considering his current demeanor, it seemed all the more likely. So what words of encouragement should he offer? After some thought, Encrid finally spoke. “Hang in there.” In the first place, he wasn’t someone who would seek help, and he'd manage most things on his own. So what he said was obvious. Encrid nodded, patting Sachsen on the shoulder. After tapping his shoulder a couple of times, Encrid thought Sachsen's eyes had calmed slightly and turned to go back inside. Sachsen stopped at that sight. He watched his leader's back, cutting through starlight and moonlight. ‘Knew he wasn’t normal.’ A sudden thought. Encouragement at this moment? ‘Because he trusts me?’ Trust? Confidence? Was that the reason behind it? A glimmer of contemplation again clouded Sachsen's eyes. As Encrid walked, he pondered. While trouble caused by Lem or Ragna often led to public disturbances, Sachsen was different. There was a reason why others called him a cunning stray cat. Sachsen was the type to go about his business quietly and stealthily. That’s how Encrid saw it, as he turned his back to leave. “It’s vengeance.” Sachsen said, his voice just loud enough for Encrid to catch. "What?" Encrid turned his body around. He was someone who often listened well to any story. This was no different. Encrid fully turned his body, readying himself, as if to ask if Sachsen really intended to share something significant. Seeing Sachsen simply watching quietly, Encrid naturally moved toward a pair of stones next to the wall. He sat there, pulling out seasoned jerky and a flask from his waist. Was he thoroughly prepared, or was it a mere coincidence? From the flask wafted the strong scent of brandy—not some sweet apple cider. Sachsen took the flask and had a sip. As he swallowed the fiery liquid, a hot sensation rose from his belly to his throat. It was a potent drink. Naturally, Sachsen wouldn’t get intoxicated. From a young age, he had chewed on toxic herbs to build resistance. A body resistant to poison wouldn't easily succumb to alcohol. Memories flashed back of those times when he chewed and swallowed poison while enduring. What had driven him to withstand all that? Death was the beginning. The death of his family, his parents, everyone he knew. He witnessed death and turned it into a weapon. That was the path he had walked. Encrid took the flask back, sipped, and asked. “Who is your enemy?” “There was a group called the Black Lily.” Sachsen began his tale smoothly. The story unfolded simply, as if devoid of any sorrow. * * * His father was merciless, and his mother was relentless. "If necessary, stab even a friend in the back." That was something his father had said. And it became his dying words. Sachsen lived by that commandment. Stabbing someone in the back if necessary was commonplace for him. “What a heartless bastard.” That’s when he met his mentor. He went through many experiences, and before long, his position had changed. He lived a life chewing on poisonous herbs and bearing scars across his entire body. Sachsen's path was stained with blood. No, he literally carved a path with blood and walked it. Step by bloody step. Sachsen was a noble's son. Sachsen Bensino—that was his name. The Bensino family was quite an influential noble house. They ventured into the trading business and found great success, yet his father sought even greater achievement. Was that his mistake? He didn’t know. Sachsen decided not to ponder the rights and wrongs. He set a simple, straightforward goal. Take revenge. Kill everyone involved. “You’ll have a short life that way.” His mentor had criticized him. Sachsen didn’t listen. He pursued a solitary path. "When will that guy become a decent person?" "Is that something a former assassin guild leader should say?" He remembered his mentor chuckling at that retort. “Yes, get angry. I like you better that way.” A trivial conversation. His goal was clear. He gathered information and investigated. The family was ruined. Was it a series of unfortunate events? It was nonsense. It was someone’s scheme. Sachsen decided to hold the schemer accountable. He found a name that way. The Black Lily. It was the name of the group. What did they gather to do? Their goal was to enrich themselves. Some became robbers under a notorious lord. Some became nobles of a country. And some disappeared like smoke. The first person Sachsen found had lost everything and was sunk in the mire. “Why did you do it?” He was curious. One family was ruined, and several trade companies were devoured. Many died because of the Black Lily. There had to be a reason. “Reason, my ass.” The fallen power laughed. “How much could we make by destroying Bensino, you idiot? Everyone scams others to get by.” Having given up everything, the man didn’t treasure his life. Wouldn’t offering death be a kindness? Wouldn’t sending him to hell actually be a favor? Killing with a simple slash to the neck would be a blessing. Sachsen didn’t like that. He didn’t kill him personally. Instead, he severed the tendons in his limbs and threw him into a beggar's den. Four days later, he was torn apart alive. That year, droughts led men to kill over a handful of grain. In such scarcity, trying to survive in a beggar’s den was impossible. The dead man’s last words echoed in his memory. Everyone scams others to live. The man had been a friend of Sachsen’s ruthless father. Or had been. “If you only look forward, there’s no need to look back.” His merciless mother’s words stayed with him as well. Did the ends justify any means? If so, he would do it that way. It took him years to locate the ringleaders of Black Lily, and during that time, his mentor died. His mentor’s dying words would forever remain a mystery. So, he chose to forget them. He didn’t bring them up. He buried them away. “If necessary, stab even a friend in the back.” “If you only look forward, there’s no need to look back.” Instead, he pondered his parents’ words. Their speeches mingled and tangled in his mind. “Everyone scams others to live.” And the dead man's words mixed in. Sachsen killed four of the Black Lily’s ringleaders. It was only when he sought the fifth that he learned one of the ringleaders had deliberately targeted the Bensino family. Was this the true enemy? No name, no identity. He pieced together some clues, and after much reasoning, he came across Avnair. Avnair had directed him to go to the palace of Nowrilia, and so Sachsen arrived at the palace. While Encrid was attacked and Lem, Dunbaekel, and Ragna roamed the market complaining about the poor quality of goods, Sachsen entered a mansion in a residential area. The place was old; cobwebs hung in every corner, with little trace of human habitation. There, he found the one who had lured and summoned him. A man with white hair and a monocle stood before him. Though frail-looking, he held a cane sword, and his eyes were narrow and small, making it difficult to read his expression. Sachsen knew at once. A fellow in the same trade, of the same ilk. “You must be from the Daggers of Geor?” The man identified Sachsen's origins. Naturally so; he had intentionally leaked just enough information to get here. The Daggers of Geor was the continent's premier assassin guild. Yet, the man showed no fear. Was it confidence in his skills? No, it was because he believed he held an advantage over Sachsen. “I know what you're searching for.” The fellow with white hair spoke. “And what would that be?” Sachsen asked. His brown eyes, which occasionally caught hints of red in the darkness, seemed to absorb the shadows around them. “Aren't you the last of the Bensino line?” Ah, yes, he’d need to know at least that much. “I’ll give you all the information you want. Everything, whatever it is.” Sachsen waited for the next part. “In exchange, eliminate him.” Who he meant was obvious. The owner of black hair and blue eyes, a commander of the troops. “Encrid, eliminate him.” It was a proposal to assassinate the man he called leader. The price? The information he'd spent a lifetime seeking. * * * Encrid sat quietly, gazing at the moon. The flask in his hand sloshed, making a soft sound as the liquid moved. Sachsen spoke of vengeance and enmity, observing. He noted that one of them was within the palace, and he needed to enter to find him. He left out the part about meeting someone from the same trade with white hair. “Alright, let’s find him.” Encrid said. There was no trace of a smile. This wasn’t a joke. It was sincere, spoken with conviction. His willingness to help was evident. He would act on it if Sachsen did not refuse assistance. Indeed, he would do his utmost. Sachsen knew this. Such was his nature. However, finding someone who had evaded detection despite countless efforts over the years seemed uncertain with just effort alone. Before Sachsen lay an easier path. The words of his father and mother, and the first enemy he killed, flashed through his mind. “If necessary, stab even a friend in the back.” “If you only look forward, there’s no need to look back.” “Everyone scams others to live.” This had been the path Sachsen walked—a road etched with blood, blades, and poison. Following this path as he always had would be straightforward.