Chapter 158

Azpen was defeated. But it did not collapse.

Winning and losing is a cycle that repeats.

No matter how thoroughly one prepares, problems arise. Defeat—yes, it was merely a problem to endure.

‘We could lose.’

That was a possibility.

But to lose like this? Every plan shattered? The strategies they had meticulously prepared seemed to work at first, only to be completely invalidated.

Even though they had retreated one step back on the battlefield, was it possible to be denied this thoroughly?

Azpen’s genius strategist, Avnair, had been quite confident.

Even if it wasn’t a perfect victory, he had believed they wouldn’t be easily pushed back.

And for good reason.

They had brought in giants.

They had concealed their full strength.

They had lured the enemy into complacency and provided a broad strategy.

The core of the plan was simple—winning the flanking battle to divide Naurilia’s main forces.

Splitting their main army’s strength was the foundation, but everything fell apart from the start.

Defeat in a battle that should have been won was the beginning of everything unraveling into chaos.

Like a single bookshelf tipping over and knocking down an entire row.

“This makes no sense.”

It was absurd. That thought escaped Avnair’s lips without him realizing it. He ran a hand through his green hair.

Outside the window, a child was playing under the bright sunlight.

A few attendants chased after the child in a flurry.

The child suddenly turned toward the window and waved. Avnair, leaning on the window frame, opened the window and rested his elbow on the sill.

He waved back at the child before basking in the sunlight.

It was a beautiful day. The season was warming.

The child climbed onto a swing hanging outside.

His eyes followed the child, but his mind revisited the beginning of the operation. Avnair retraced everything.

‘Why?’

Why had they lost?

The defeat of the entire battlefield had begun with the failure of the flank maneuver.

A few reports flashed through his mind.

Tracing back to find the root cause of their defeat…

The start of the start of the start.

‘The soldiers’ duel.’

That was where the first crack appeared. After that, Mitch Hurrier died.

Ultimately, in the flanking battle, unexpected forces displayed strength beyond their expectations.

At the center of it all—who, or what, was there?

Avnair checked the report he had received.

It was the final message sent before their commander died.

Mad Squad, Squad Leader Encrid.

The name was familiar. When he thought about it, this was the man the Hurrier family had sent assassins after.

A mere squad leader? Could such a man have been the catalyst for everything?

He wasn’t sure. At this point, it was pure intuition.

The strategist’s intuition, the soldier’s intuition.

‘It wouldn’t be a loss to try.’

When the Hurrier family had sent assassins, he had thought it was a pointless move, but perhaps they had been right.

For the future—for peace, or rather, the next war—Avnair decided to use assassins.

Still, it was only to kill a mere squad leader.

Azpen had an ancient and well-established guild that could be used for the task. No traces would be left behind.

After organizing his thoughts, he moved immediately. He stepped away from the window and gave the order to summon the assassin guild. Through the authority of the royal palace, he issued a request.

“If they cross the border, the payment triples. Unreasonable requests will be rejected.”

The assassin guild responded. A slip with Krong written on it was enough of a reply.

“A single squad leader? You’re willing to spend this much Krong on just one man?”

The amount was enough to buy a mansion in the capital of Azpen.

The assassin guild had no reason to refuse.

This wasn’t about eliminating a noble of great renown or targeting a key military figure.

It was just a mere squad leader. If not for the risk of crossing the border, it was an easy job.

The guild accepted and sent three assassins.

“Failure?”

The guild master realized they had underestimated the job.

“Send intermediate assassins.”

Thinking back, hadn’t the half-elf failed before as well?

She was an intermediate-level assassin too. That was why three had been sent this time.

“Send two more.”

Thus, they were dispatched.

“Boss.”

“Failed again?”

This was getting strange. Why did every assassin sent keep dying?

“Two intermediate-level assassins?”

“Yes.”

What was going on?

Maybe they needed to send a higher-ranked assassin. At this point, it was time to calculate whether this mission was worth the cost.

“Send an advanced assassin.”

A job was a job. More importantly, this was a direct order from the royal palace. Officially, the assassin guild operated independently, but in truth, Monteir’s Swamp belonged to the royal family.

The guild master knew this well.

If they crossed the palace, their entire business of assassination would be finished.

So, the advanced assassin was sent.

“What the hell?!”

Even Monteir’s Swamp’s top-ten assassin had failed. No communication had been received.

Unless some merciful mage had appeared to dispel the tracking enchantments, the assassin was surely dead.

Sure enough, two days later, the assassin’s severed head was delivered.

It was sent straight to one of Monteir’s Swamp’s hidden safe houses.

“Notify the royal palace.”

Continuing this mission would result in severe losses. Something on the enemy’s side was off. An advanced assassin hadn’t just disappeared; he had been slaughtered.

And their location had been exposed?

Someone superior to them was involved.

“That’s my assessment.”

The guild master personally entered the palace.

He reported everything.

He stated clearly that the mission could not proceed further.

Avnair stifled a bitter laugh.

‘The assassin guild failed?’

Even he found it absurd. There was neither the capacity nor the leeway to continue this effort.

“Let’s leave it alone.”

Avnair gave up.

There were more pressing internal matters in Azpen.

If that man had something…

If he truly had something…

‘We’ll meet again.’

Avnair left Encrid’s name behind.

If they were fated to meet on the battlefield,

Then he would accept that fate.

This was not a man who could be ended with mere assassination.

—

A shadow had been lurking around the barracks for days. Their movements were practiced—so much so that even a careless observer would have difficulty recognizing them as the same person twice.

Jaxson, facing the intruder, silenced his footsteps and held his breath.

He completely suppressed his presence, ensuring his aura was indistinguishable.

‘What is this?’

An assassin. He knew immediately.

They were in the same line of work.

Jaxson let the thin wire slip from his hands. It was thick, coated in black ink and a special oil to prevent light reflection.

The wire wrapped around the assassin’s neck.

Before the assassin could react, Jaxson pulled it taut with a snap. Using the force of his elbow against the assassin’s back, he tightened the grip and nearly snapped the neck in half.

With a sharp crack, the head twisted to the side.

A broken neck meant death. A simple fact.

Jaxson examined the corpse.

Would this assassin have been a tough opponent for anyone else?

Among the Border Guards, Jaxson’s faction specialized in intelligence, not combat.

That didn’t mean he would be caught off guard.

‘The third one.’

Three months had passed since the battle, and this was already the third attack.

The third assassin had taken a different approach—clinging to the barracks’ walls, waiting for an opening.

For three days, they had disguised themselves as a beggar, an old man, and a merchant, each time changing their appearance.

‘A capable one.’

When men like this infiltrated the city, it meant their target was deep inside the barracks.

If they were after a company commander, a battalion leader, or a noble, they would have moved differently.

The first group had disguised themselves as recruits.

Their target was obvious.

Mad Squad.

Following the trail, the real target became clear.

Squad Leader Encrid.

But Encrid had spent the past three months holed up in the barracks and training grounds, so they had decided to go inside instead.

“These bastards are insane.”

All this effort, just to kill one squad leader?

Jaxson carried the corpse over his shoulder, carefully avoiding attention. He reached an alley where vagrants gathered and laid the body down.

He adjusted the corpse into a sleeping position, then bought a bottle of alcohol, poured some over the body, and left the bottle beside it.

Like this, no one would bother investigating the cause of death. They would assume it was just another dead drunkard.

After handling the body, Jaxson entered the red-light district.

He was a frequent visitor there.

As he arrived, a few prostitutes glanced at him.

His looks were uncommon, after all.

Ignoring the stares, he entered a familiar room.

Inside, a young blonde woman greeted him, half-dressed.

Jaxson flexed and curled a few fingers in silent hand signals. The woman responded.

“There are no eavesdroppers.”

“The problem?”

“No problem anymore.”

Previously, a half-elf assassin had entered the city unnoticed.

Even though they hadn’t covered every part of the city with informants, missing that was unacceptable.

It had bothered Jaxson. It had hurt his pride.

Afterward, more assassins had infiltrated. He killed them one by one.

As long as he was in the Border Guards, no assassins or any similar threats would get through.

This wasn’t just about protecting the squad leader.

Absolutely not.

Leaning against the door, Jaxson remained expressionless.

The woman, watching him closely, spoke again.

“Monteir’s Swamp is behind this. What should we do?”

Monteir’s Swamp was an assassin guild rooted in Azpen.

“Make it clear this is my territory. Our way.”

That meant killing every assassin who crossed the line. The woman nodded.

This could lead to a guild war.

A war no one would ever know about.

That was the kind of world they belonged to.

That night, Jaxson spent time with her.

Their relationship was professional but also physical.

They were closer to lovers.

Early in the morning, she woke up and ordered her subordinates to behead the corpse Jaxson had left behind.

The severed head was delivered straight to one of Monteir’s Swamp’s strongholds.

A warning.

If they persisted, they would regret it. That regret would be their own burden.

Monteir’s Swamp never made another move.

It made sense.

They operated within Azpen.

Jaxson’s people operated across the entire continent.

—

“Are you sure this is the place?”

Krys looked at the dark alley, frowning. The air reeked, and the ground was covered in filth—exactly the kind of place no one wanted to step into.

They were near an alley where vagrants gathered.

Krys had directed the question at Jaxson.

Encrid also glanced around.

Since they were already gathering supplies, Encrid had asked if they could find Whistle Daggers as well.

“We can get them.”

That was Jaxson’s reply before leading them here.

Encrid hadn’t expected to have time for this.

Jaxson had barely been in the barracks lately, busy visiting the red-light district and other places.

But Jaxson didn’t acknowledge Krys’ question. If he deemed something unimportant, he wouldn’t react. That was typical of him.

His silence was the answer. Sometimes, silence spoke louder than words.

Krys had asked but didn’t push further.

A little filth wasn’t enough to stop them.

“This way.”

Jaxson spoke indifferently and stepped inside.

Encrid followed behind.

They had tried finding a skilled blacksmith, but that option was already ruled out.

Krys had gathered enough information beforehand to confirm that.

Rua followed Encrid as well.

For some reason, Esther had come along too.

As they entered the dirty alley, Esther climbed the wall, walking along the rooftops instead.

“That one’s a monster.”

Rua commented as she watched.

Encrid half-agreed. Esther did seem almost inhuman.

Rua wore boots made specifically for Frok. They had eight tightly fastened straps and a sturdy wooden sole.

Every step she took made a distinct clack as wood met stone.

“We’re here.”

Jaxson stopped.

For a journey, especially one with a mission, there were many things to prepare. Among them, Encrid wanted to secure a few Whistle Daggers.

“…Busy day.”

An old woman muttered.

She sat just inside an open doorway, a small mat laid out in front of her. A fortune teller, surrounded by crystal balls. Her golden curls had faded with age, and her wrinkled hands were folded over her lap.

“It’s here?”

Encrid had seen many things in his life.

The black market? He had been to plenty.

During his mercenary days, he had even witnessed underground slave markets.

A black market? No, an old fortune teller?

Whistle Daggers were rare. Even in the black market, they were difficult to come by.

And yet, this fortune teller had them?

“Yes,” Jaxson answered, using hand signals.

Encrid didn’t know what those signs meant, but they seemed to be the right ones. The old woman let out a huff through her nose.

That exhale felt like permission—not just to Encrid, but to everyone watching.

“What are you looking for?”

The fortune teller asked.

“Whistle Daggers. The more, the better.”

Encrid answered.

“The payment?”

“This guy will cover it.”

Encrid pointed to Krys.

“Yeah, yeah, I got it.”

Krys grumbled, but on the surface, he looked generous. Since he had already decided to spend money, he might as well go all in.

One had to invest to reap rewards.

“I’ll have them sent to your unit.”

“You know who I am?”

Encrid raised an eyebrow.

The old woman chuckled.

“There’s not a single soul in this city who doesn’t know your name. Not even the battalion commanders are as well-known as you.”

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

He wanted to ask more, but before he could, the old woman was already packing up her stall, gathering her crystal ball and tools.

“That’s all, then.”

She retreated into her home without another word.

Should he stop her and ask something?

She packed up so quickly, it was clear she had done this many times before. In just a few breaths, everything was gone.

Sometimes, Encrid wondered.

How did Jaxson know about places like this?

Even Krys had given up on finding these daggers.

But Encrid didn’t ask. Their goal was the Whistle Daggers, not Jaxson’s past.

“Do you really think she’ll deliver? This feels shady as hell.”

Krys muttered beside him. Suspicion was second nature to him.

“If she doesn’t, then that’s that.”

Encrid shrugged and moved on.

Since they were out, he figured they might as well pick up some things at the market.

Like that shop with the amazing jerky. And maybe visit the blacksmith to get some armor adjusted.

With the heat rising, wearing a gambeson would be unbearable. But going out unprotected wasn’t an option either.

A loose leather armor might do.

His old leather armor had been discarded.

He had intended to keep wearing it, but one day, Esther had shredded it with her claws.

“You should pay for my new armor with your claws.”

He called up to Esther, who was walking along the rooftops.

“Krr.”

The panther let out a low growl.

It sounded suspiciously like, Don’t be ridiculous.

Encrid had just been joking.

With that, they headed to the jerky shop to place an order.

“Thank you.”

The shop owner greeted him.

“For what?”

Encrid tilted his head.

The owner bowed twice, his graying hair visible from the top.

“As a mother who almost lost her son, how could I charge the man who saved him? Take as much as you want.”

“What?”

Encrid was confused. He had only done what he had to.

He had fought with all he had.

He had risked his life and thrown himself into battle.

Simply because he had no choice but to move forward.

But because of that…

“Thank you. Without my son, I would have no reason to go on.”

A mother who had raised her child alone was thanking him.

On the battlefield, countless lives had been saved.

Many of them were people with ties to the Border Guards.

“Half price for the armor.”

“If you need a waterskin, this one’s better.”

“How are your boots holding up? If you bring your squadmates, I’ll measure them and make a new set for each of you.”

“I don’t have much to give, but please take these flowers.”

“Take this.”

“Would you like an apple?”

“This is a collection of dried fruits.”

“Need some charcoal?”

The merchants who hadn’t seen Encrid for three months now treated him like a hero.

It was completely unexpected.

“Tch. Now I feel weirdly good about this.”

Krys grumbled beside him. Encrid felt the same.

He hadn’t fought to save anyone in particular.

But protecting those around him had always been in the back of his mind.

A thought crossed his mind.

What did it mean to be a knight?

A protector.

Someone who safeguarded their people’s smiles and upheld their beliefs.

For Encrid, it had been a satisfying trip—and a fulfilling day.