Chapter 269

The two young vigilantes guarding the entrance to the village glanced at each other, then turned back to face forward.

One of them, lazily holding a leather coif, sloppily shoved it onto his head and said, “Not wrong, but…”

His attitude seemed oddly slack and indecisive.

The other, with sharper eyes, stepped forward and said, “We’ll need to ask inside. Please wait a bit.”

So one of them went into the village, and in the meantime, Jaxson kept running his mouth nonstop.

“Come now, no monsters around this village, and is that a delicious smell? It’s dinner time, and I’ve been chewing jerky for four days! If you let us in, I’ll make it worth your while!”

He tried charming the remaining guard, who had large, innocent-looking eyes.

The youth gave a faint nod, clearly tempted, but still didn’t let them pass easily.

“That’s… not allowed, but… if you wait here, someone inside will probably come talk to you…”

He had a way of trailing off his words, which was frustrating, but Jaxson didn’t mind.

“Understood!”

He just nodded enthusiastically.

Encrid was silently updating his admiration in real time.

‘How the hell is he this good?’

It was as if Krys had switched faces and come here himself.

But did most villages enforce their entrance this strictly?

Some villages did.

If there were threats nearby, or if they were at war with others, sure.

But this place didn’t seem like one of them.

“We ask for your understanding… there was a wandering swordsman who caused trouble… and a Frok too…”

The shy guard blurted out, unprompted, watching them nervously. He was clearly timid.

Encrid had a feeling who that Frok might’ve been.

So much for ‘just found it lying around’—he caused trouble, didn’t he?

As Encrid observed the awkward youth, the sharp-eyed one returned from within.

“Let them in!”

Permission was granted. Jaxson lit up with a bright smile.

It was astonishing how smoothly he pulled off the act.

Looking back, it made sense.

‘He always seemed like someone who scratched everyone’s itches around the base.’

But at some point, he’d completely withdrawn from others.

That too, happened suddenly.

Rumors spread that he blew all his coin on brothels.

They said he always disappeared to the markets and didn’t return to barracks.

But Encrid didn’t believe those rumors.

If he was into a prostitute, he’d bring her back with him.

But he just kept going there silently?

Only those nearby knew the truth.

To outsiders, it would seem like a typical story of a soldier wasting his pay.

But Jaxson didn’t move so simply.

Sometimes he spent whole days at tea houses or hovered around gambling dens with a beer in hand.

He looked like someone wasting time with nothing to do.

To an outsider, that’s what he was.

But maybe it had a purpose?

Was he doing something else?

Encrid had noticed long ago—but didn’t pry.

‘He’s got his own business.’

This kind of acting, the way his expressions shifted, the way he embodied Krys instantly—that was one of Jaxson’s strengths.

His silent footfalls, his stealthy movements, his blade devoid of [killing intent]—

That was all Jaxson.

Encrid simply recalled what he already knew. He still had no reason to push him away. No reason to question him.

He was the commander of the Independent Platoon. Jaxson was under his command.

As long as the mission was carried out properly, that was all that mattered.

In that regard, Jaxson was an outstanding subordinate and even a good mentor.

Even if he pointed his blade at Encrid someday, Encrid would ask twice.

He’d even be willing to take a hit once.

That’s how much he owed him.

Above all, Encrid was more interested now in—

“Oh ho, impressive skills.”

—Commander Sinar’s awed murmur beside him.

Why hadn’t this Elf found such an obviously suspicious village?

As they entered, one of the guards warned from behind.

“Don’t cause trouble. Just because you look like you can use a sword, don’t think you can act tough—you’ll get hurt.”

Most villages maintained some form of armed force or mercenary group.

Unless there were unusual circumstances.

This village showed signs of being well-organized.

The fences were tall and double-layered, with regular maintenance clearly visible.

Thorns and vines were interwoven into the outer wall, and the height was significant.

Most monsters wouldn’t dare approach.

And the entrance they passed was narrow—just wide enough for a single cart.

To the untrained eye, it looked like any normal village. But to Encrid—it wasn’t.

Those who didn’t know him might think he was just a “sword-crazy fool,” but Krys and others knew better.

“The Captain’s smart, just doesn’t use his head much.”

They were right.

More than anything, Encrid had excellent instincts and intuition.

Thanks to [Sensory Art], he could sense off atmospheres and pick up on subtle scents.

It was one reason he’d survived so long with such modest skill.

And now, he had an eye for gauging strength. His senses had sharpened.

Encrid looked around.

This village didn’t farm. It sat high on a plateau with no slash-and-burn signs.

So what did they live on?

A few goats roamed, but this was clearly a village of hundreds.

To avoid the threat of monsters, people in the continent lived clustered together.

Widening fences and building fields inside was common sense.

Even orchards had their own walls and stationed guards.

Unless you wanted to donate everything to monsters, that was standard practice.

And if a colony of monsters or beasts appeared, that was that.

But still—clustering was key to survival.

The population seemed at least 300–400.

Over half were young.

‘No fields.’

Few livestock.

Too many elderly and adults.

And the village chief was a young pretty woman, wasn’t she?

Nothing added up.

And strangely, there were no rumors about this place.

You’d think at least a few traveling merchants would talk.

So how did they keep their existence hidden?

Encrid thought.

Beside him, Jaxson, still in Krys-mode, chattered away.

“Goat’s milk! If you make cheese from it, it’s delicious… wait, they do have cheese!”

Cheese made from goat’s milk had a rich, dark color.

Well-preserved, it had a sweet, dense flavor.

Jaxson stressed that while pulling out fine silk bolts—props he brought to play the merchant.

Encrid watched and fell back into thought.

How to prevent rumors?

‘Kill everyone who comes.’

If force won’t work? Give them something and send them away.

That might be how they kept the location secret.

This place wasn’t on a shortcut path while crossing the mountains.

Some might say that made it safer from bandits or thugs—

‘Would it really?’

The vigilantes here were a different breed.

Encrid casually watched people passing by.

The funniest was a woman in a wide skirt.

‘What are you hiding under there?’

Her weight distribution was off. Her gait uneven.

A blade long enough to pierce a human torso was strapped to her right thigh. Krys might’ve whistled.

“Interesting place.”

“Here, try this.”

Jaxson suddenly popped something into Encrid’s mouth.

Even with [Sensory Art] sharpened, he didn’t sense the touch until it landed.

Jaxson’s sleight of hand remained masterful.

It was brown cheese. As it melted on his tongue, the flavor was light and sweet, not heavy.

It was well-made.

Someone here had good craftsmanship.

“A fine village!”

Krys—no, Jaxson—said with exaggerated gestures. The cheese vendor smiled in reply.

“That so?”

He was missing a front tooth, giving a whistling quality to his words.

It looked like a naive grin, but Encrid noticed the calluses on his palms.

They were the kind formed by long hours wielding weapons.

As he pretended not to notice, the Elf beside him muttered—

“Enki, being here with you feels like our honeymoon.”

Such a trip was called a honeymoon in the continent.

Of course, the mood wasn’t romantic at all. The Elf’s words always had a sting if she wasn’t joking.

Encrid took it in stride.

Everything looked normal on the surface, but anyone observant could tell.

With her sharpened senses, Sinar would’ve known too.

There were eyes watching them—hidden, but everywhere.

Between alleys, on rooftops, through window cracks. People lurked.

“There’s a drink made with goat’s milk at the inn. You must try it. There’s only one inn, so you won’t get lost.”

“Thank you.”

Jaxson smiled brightly, handing over a few silver coins. The vendor grinned wide again—his missing tooth stood out.

They toured the village and headed for the inn. Jaxson kept gushing.

“It’s a small village, but the people are so lively!”

Encrid translated in his head:

– For its size, there are too many people, and they’re all trained.

“Is this how houses are built here? The structure is interesting.”

– The inn is in a perfect spot to be surrounded.

“The women are full of vitality!”

– The women are fighters too.

“It’s already sunset, isn’t it? We should sleep early if we’re to be active by dawn. The locals don’t seem to sleep at night.”

– Don’t move around at night, we’ll get caught. Best to act at dawn.

His chatter didn’t raise suspicion.

“If Rem were here, things would’ve gotten noisy. These kind people probably dislike brutes.”

– Any chaos will ruin the mission. They’re already watching us closely.

It wasn’t code—but it might as well have been. Encrid understood everything.

Not even said all at once. Just mixed in casually.

At the inn, they requested dinner and goat-milk liquor and settled into their room.

Two men in one room.

“Why split rooms like this?”

Sinar protested, but Finn pulled her into the room next door.

Jaxson stood at the wooden window frame. The creaky hinges needed oil.

He stared out for a moment, then turned back.

And just like that, the spirit of Krys left him.

The possession ended. (T/N: ROFL)

One look at his face and you could tell.

Krys was gone from Jaxson’s body.

“Hmm.”

Encrid admired it again. With that level of skill, he could be a lead in a capital stage play.

Any playwright would scramble to sign him.

“Something wrong?”

Jaxson asked as Encrid stared.

“No. Nothing.”

There was nothing to add. What could you say to someone who’d done everything perfectly?

But Jaxson had things to say.

A lot, actually.

He’d already figured out more than a few things.

Enough to feel moved by how prepared their opponents were.

As always, though, he spoke plainly.

“They’ll probably spike the food.”

He anticipated their tactics. Encrid doubted they’d drug them immediately—but better safe than sorry.

“Shouldn’t we tell the others?”

Jaxson shook his head lightly.

“There’s an Elf.”

Their senses were sharp—especially taste.

Their food was often bland because even light seasoning came through strongly.

But that didn’t mean they weren’t gourmets.

Their sensitivity made them obsessed with fine food and music.

“She’ll figure it out.”

Jaxson said, then examined the bed and pulled out a small vial, oiling the hinges.

So they wouldn’t creak later.

He was thorough.

Moving quietly wasn’t just about your body.

‘Preparation and readiness.’

One corner of Encrid’s mind was always occupied by swordsmanship. He gave a room in his head to swords, knighthood, and dreams.

Some of those thoughts whispered now.

‘Isn’t the [Straight Sword Style] like this too?’

They were right. It wasn’t an epiphany, but it made him reflect on the sword briefly.

While Encrid was lost in thought, Jaxson finished his checks.

He oiled the hinges, tapped the underside of the bed, and even probed the ceiling with his nails.

Then he spread a large cloth above the bed and pinned it in place.

Encrid didn’t ask what he was doing.

He was briefly lost in his world, too focused on imaginary swings.

Jaxson was glad he didn’t ask.

Explaining everything was a pain.

‘Maybe we’re a good fit.’

Sometimes, it was important to gauge how well your partner meshed with you.

Jaxson understood that well.

And he thought—

‘Is there anyone he doesn’t get along with?’

Encrid got along with Audin, Rem, even Sinar without trouble.

That’s just the kind of person he was. The captain.

That’s why, even in situations that didn’t suit him, he still seemed like he could pull it off.

As he moved, Jaxson quietly imagined everything that might unfold.

He didn’t need to think it through. He already knew—through experience.