361 - A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

**Chapter 361: Where is the Knight?** “Think they might try poison or some other trick?” As soon as dawn broke the next morning, Enkrid posed the question. Sachsen, hearing this, merely shook his head. He was back to being his usual self—unperturbed, indifferent, and calm. Yet, there was a subtle trace of menace in his tone. “They won’t try the same thing again.” Sachsen's voice, as he spoke, was as chilly as an ice shard freshly extracted from a glacier. Ice-cold, laced with scorn for those who meddled in his absence. Of course, that frigid, killing smile vanished as quickly as it appeared. He returned to his usual aloof, composed demeanor that wouldn’t flinch even if pricked by a needle. “So, you’re saying you won’t let them.” Enkrid asked, and Sachsen nodded nonchalantly. That was enough. As predicted, no incidents arose throughout the day. The ones who made warnings didn’t appear again. Wouldn’t they come even after a day? Perhaps not even after two or three days. If they dared approach when he was alone, they wouldn't when there was a group. Enkrid spent another day. He trained mindlessly, pushing Andrew and the five trainees. “Spare me.” One trainee murmured unconsciously, “Yes, today’s single slash will save your tomorrow.” Enkrid replied sincerely to the trainee's lament, earning applause from Dunbakel. “Well said.” “It’s not wisdom, but a declaration that he won’t listen to such nonsense, you foolish beast.” Rem retorted beside him, lightly chiding. Their conversation was only faintly audible to Enkrid. The trainees likely didn’t hear. Rem knew why Enkrid responded this way and purposely lowered his voice. If they plead for mercy like this, ‘I can push them more.’ Enkrid desired the energy spent speaking to be devoted to the sword. He intended to fulfill their desires and ambitions, ensuring they wouldn’t die. In Enkrid's view, the Gardner family’s forces amounted to only seven—Andrew, Mack, and the five trainees. Though Andrew was deemed somewhat usable, ‘In this situation, to say he’s usable.’ If trouble arose, they would just die. Enkrid had no intention of watching Andrew, a familiar face, die. So, following and protecting him wasn't an option either. The best course was for them to protect themselves. This was the purpose of the training, making a little rigorous time justifiable. And in times like these, not comprehending and being a wall was more comfortable than rebuking. When conversation flows, people attempt to talk. But with those who don’t speak, there are no such attempts. They just focus on the given tasks. This is what Enkrid intended. To be madly focused and struggling with the task at hand. Rising from the bottom, he knew the mindset they needed. “Ugh.” The trainee despaired, and Enkrid was satisfied. Seeing this, Lagna nodded. Doing his utmost as always. It was just like the leader he knew. Satisfying. Seeing that rekindled his motivation. ‘The sword.’ Lagna quickly immersed himself back into his world. Watching the same scene, Sachsen remained silent. In two days, he had only spoken to assure no repeat attempts by the adversaries would occur. And no one else approached him. Andrew found Sachsen intimidating. Mack naturally didn’t see him as someone to engage with. The five trainees were busy trying to survive. Rem and Lagna also didn’t provoke him without reason. Each had tasks to focus on. Rem occasionally filled in whenever Enkrid stepped away. “If you hit me even once, it’s rest time.” He was showing a different kind of hell to the five trainees, which Rem thoroughly enjoyed. Lagna wielded his sword in a corner, lost in thought. Sometimes murmuring to himself “light and fast, yet heavy,” indicating he was contemplating swordplay. Amidst all this, Sachsen could silently ponder. Initially, it was about his own matters. ‘A game of tag?’ He had identified multiple targets based solely on existing evidence. However, identifying them didn’t mean they could be found. That made things difficult. More information was needed. Things had to be uncovered. After pragmatic considerations, philosophical questions arose. ‘Is this the right path?’ The path he’s chosen wasn’t one of ‘help.’ Which is the right path, what is the answer, why is he committed to vengeance lifelong? If revenge is the goal, is this the correct way? “Go on, stab.” Enkrid’s words lingered in his mind. In Sachsen’s vision came Enkrid, arms bound in bandages. As the days grow warmer, the sleeves grew shorter. The wound, left untreated, didn’t fester but healed. Marks left by his stiletto. “Why are you worried? Find the cause. Think of the why.” The master's words. Sachsen adhered to them. The reason for concern is within the heart. It wavers when directionless. If unaware, one is dragged; if aware, one isn’t. Finding the why doesn’t necessitate presenting answers. Paths are numerous. Sachsen chose one of them. Instead of harnessing his heart, he let it be. Instead of worrying if this is the right way, he simply acted. Moved. Did. Took steps toward the outcome. The mindset of Enkrid. He observed and learned from him. It led to a newfound respect for the extraordinary nature of the man before him. ‘He doesn’t give up because of lacking talent.’ He replaces worries with contemplation. If the mind doesn’t work, he uses the body. Using the body, he exercises the mind too. He does whatever it takes. It’s a struggle. “You can’t do it. With such skill, how can you.” The criticisms and scoffing didn’t shake his heart. He moved forward alone. Sachsen's inner chaos was soon replaced by simplicity. The tangled threads unwound to lay straight. Thus, he decided to act as his heart directed. Afterwards, Rem, feeling bored, decided to further torment the five trainees. Dunbakel received a pair of curved swords from Enkrid and spent some time getting accustomed to them, swinging them around. Later, he even transformed into his beast form and requested a spar with Lagna, only to end up getting beaten. Lagna spent his time occasionally swinging his sword or lying on the grass next to the training grounds, appearing leisurely when no one challenged him to a duel. Sachsen would sometimes leave the mansion with Enkrid and often venture out on his own as well. When the two went out together, it was usually to attend gatherings. Enkrid took Andrew along for these outings, using him as a guard. There were instances, although rare, where he encountered familiar faces. This was expected, considering the influx of people into the capital, all vying for positions and power. “You.” “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” As the other party reacted, Enkrid spoke next. It was an instructor from his past visits to the capital who had taught him swordplay—a person of questionable character. ‘Is he now a guard for some noble?’ This assessment was based on the man's attire, weaponry, and those around him. “You’re really that Enkrid?” The former instructor, notorious for his nonsense, said. Back then, he thought Enkrid was quite skilled—what about now? Enkrid nodded, contemplating silently. “Impossible.” He muttered and whispered among his companions, who seemed to dismiss Enkrid as a fraud. Enkrid ignored it. Andrew, next to him, furrowed his brow. “Should we let them be?” Andrew was ready to confront them immediately. “Leave it.” Enkrid decided it wasn’t worth picking a fight. The nonsense instructor smirked at Enkrid, a fishy grin plastered on his face. A grin that seemed to reek of dried fish. “Yeah, sure, see you again.” Laughing among themselves, the former instructor and his companions left. The nonsense instructor wasn’t even their leader. Was there anyone noteworthy among them? It didn’t seem so. Enkrid dismissed them. It was just a passing matter. After attending several parties, Enkrid eventually got to meet Krang. Krang remarked on how difficult it was to escape the palace even temporarily. “Everyone’s ready to draw swords at any moment.” “You mean Count Molsen?” Enkrid guessed, unaware of the internal palace politics. “That’s not it.” Krang smiled and replied. “The blade currently threatening us isn’t from a frontier noble, but someone inside the palace.” Krang continued, unprompted. “It’s Viscount Merness.” From the brief explanation, it seemed that Viscount Merness had rallied factions within the palace, forming a significant power block. Unlike Baron Wantrela, he seemed to have ambitions separate from Count Molsen. “He’s quite a troublesome fellow. One of the five fingers, you see.” Krang said, placing his palm on the bench and stretching his back, gazing at the sky. His demeanor was relaxed, contradicting the seriousness of his words. The five fingers supporting the palace referred to five families. The thumb, the Bysar Marquis. Index finger, the Lakon family, tied historically to the military. Middle finger, embodied by the ruler of the frontier, belongs to Count Molsen. Ring finger, responsible for the kingdom’s treasury, helmed by the current Marquis of Octo. The final little finger's family is unknown but serves as the palace's guard. None of these families currently supported the Queen. They were all busy securing their own interests. Krang didn’t elaborate further; there was no need. Krang glanced at Enkrid, noting that his curiosity seemed elsewhere. So, what had brought him here in search of Krang? Initially, Andrew attracted attention as an uninvited guest to the parties. Soon after, the rumors shifted focus onto his escort. A hero born from the Border Guard. In reality, an impostor, riding on an exaggerated reputation. Someone familiar with Enkrid’s past seemed to be incessantly spreading tales. Rumors claimed that the real Enkrid possessed inadequate skills, relying on his subordinates’ achievements, living in self-delusion. ‘Is it a refusal to acknowledge what they haven’t seen?’ Is it arrogance? Or vanity? Or perhaps it's a means to protect their own hard-earned repute? ‘It’s none of these.’ Krang considered them all fools. If they doubted his fame, they could feign friendliness and test him. Failing that, simply observing and waiting would be wiser. But a few foolish, ignorant nobles persisted in belittling Enkrid. ‘Lacking intellect, I suppose.’ How did such individuals manage to become palace officials? One of those busy disparaging him was the palace’s security chief. The superior of all guard captains, overseeing the palace’s security force. ‘Should I be glad?’ Should he be relieved that presumed adversaries were fools, or lament that the palace he was to guard held nothing but dolts? Or perhaps lay blame on the Queen who leads such a nation? Or feel sympathy for her plight? Certainly, not everything was the Queen’s doing. Enkrid’s recognition didn’t solely stem from his skills. “I’d love to see his face.” “He’s supposed to be quite handsome, right?” “They say it’s a feast for the eyes.” It was curiosity from a group of noblewomen. Accompanying Andrew as his escort, the two men supposedly dazzled all the way from outside to inside the party venue. Naturally, it was Enkrid and Sachsen. Thus, noblemen, blinded by jealousy, spread tales akin to slander about Enkrid. Jealousy had always been a potent motivator. Some nobles merely wished for Enkrid's demise. Including the security chief. If Enkrid drew his sword in the city, the guard might respond immediately. Pondering thus, Krang spoke. “Viscount Merness is both a son-in-law to the Bysar Marquis and a member of the Lakon family.” He’s a figure with the strongest patron within the palace and has stationed private troops in the capital. He’s also integrated part of the Royal Guard under his command. Since entering the capital, he had rapidly expanded his influence, even uniting surrounding factions under his banner. In terms of danger, he posed twice the threat compared to Count Molsen. “There are rumors that he has gathered and stationed a battalion-level private army outside the capital. So, what exactly are you curious about?” Krang continued speaking before pausing to ask. There must have been a purpose for Enkrid's visit. Although Enkrid had many questions, they all ultimately boiled down to one. With a single inquiry, many uncertainties could be resolved. Thus, Enkrid asked about those he both expected and believed should naturally be present. “Where are all the knights?” If there were even a single knight in the palace. If they were by the Queen’s side, could this Merness or Mernos character cause such chaos? A group of assassins issued warnings in broad daylight. In the dead of night, the cries of beasts are heard, and every day, new ghost stories circulate around the capital. If there were knights, if a knight order were in motion, such occurrences couldn’t and shouldn’t happen. Thus, it was the central question cutting through all these issues.