Chapter 303

“What kind of person is he?”

At his lieutenant’s question, Graham sat up straighter. A sharp pain ran up his spine to his skull.

‘Sinar.’

He’d heard that the elf had given Encrid ointment for his wounds.

He was the lord here—shouldn’t he have gotten something too? Weren’t they long-time comrades, if nothing else?

Why hadn’t even a single herb made its way to him?

Graham answered, brushing aside the petty thoughts.

“Who?”

“Green Pearl.”

One lieutenant was clueless and dim, but the other was above average. Just the nature of the question made that clear.

‘Or maybe it’s all relative.’

Maybe the smarter one just looked smart because the dumb one was so dumb. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to dismiss the clueless one.

How far would a person go for another?

That lieutenant might not risk his life—but he’d probably offer an arm to save him. That was reason enough to keep him.

“Garrett Guyro.”

Graham spoke the name of a man who used to be his superior, but was now of equal rank.

It didn’t exactly roll off the tongue.

Garrett’s unit used to be the Border Guards’ second reserve force. But after their victory at Green Pearl, they’d been elevated to a formal battalion and set up camp on the Green Pearl Plains.

“He’s known as an opportunist who’ll do anything for his own gain. Rumor has it Azpen hasn’t attacked yet because Battalion Commander Garrett already switched sides.”

That rumor hadn’t only reached Encrid’s ears.

Graham suddenly scratched his ear with his pinky, as if it were itching.

“Someone talking shit about me right now?”

He suspected the dim lieutenant he’d kicked out earlier.

“If Azpen pushes in, the city’s in danger, sir.”

As lord and battalion commander, Graham nodded.

“Who doesn’t know that?”

How should he describe Garrett Guyro?

“Did he betray us? I don’t think so. If I had to bet a Krong on it, I’d say he didn’t.”

He was the polar opposite of that idiot lieutenant—crafty and shrewd. A cunning bastard, but betrayal wasn’t his thing.

“Why do you think Lord Markus placed him there?”

—

The battalion commander had dull blond hair and a strikingly handsome face.

He looked to be in his middle years. He approached with long, confident strides.

Encrid instinctively measured the distance.

‘Two and a half steps.’

If needed, his blade could reach with just half a breath.

“If he’s judged to be an enemy, cut him down or subdue him. Grab him by the head and seize control of his troops immediately.”

That was what Krys had said before they left. Encrid agreed.

He subtly shifted his left foot forward—he was ready.

A quick thrust, or a counter using the [Snake Step] and [Fluid Sword Technique] if attacked first.

His right arm had healed enough to deflect and strike.

He could let a blow slide with his right and thrust with his left. He was mentally prepared.

He kept all options open as he met the battalion commander.

Behind the man were some archers, infantry, and guards.

They all looked… tense.

Garrett Guyro approached in large strides.

“Markus, you petty bastard!”

He suddenly shouted.

There was something strange in his tone.

“I missed you!”

Garrett bellowed in a booming voice.

He was known as a meticulous, opportunistic man who’d do anything for gain.

That was the general reputation of anyone who claimed to know Garrett.

But this… didn’t feel like that at all.

“He’s really better looking than me, Nurat! What do you think?”

“He’s handsome.”

One of the guards replied—a dark-skinned woman.

Battalion Commander Garrett knew how to smile. And it wasn’t forced—it was bright, even cheerful.

Then he added,

“Now you’re the most handsome guy in the Border Guards.”

“Agreed.”

Krys muttered behind him. The guy had been visibly nervous, but now he let out such a deflated comment.

Even Encrid relaxed a little.

If the enemy had calculated ‘this’, they were more cunning than Jaxson himself.

Though Jaxson would ‘never’ admit that.

“Come on in.”

Garrett turned his back and walked away. Even if he was hiding his strength, showing your back like that carried a message.

Garrett was no traitor. Encrid understood that—both logically and instinctively.

“Still, be cautious.”

Krys murmured behind him.

If he ‘had’ betrayed them and was trying to lure them in—what then?

But for something like that…

‘He’s being too careless.’

Encrid scratched his chin and followed after Garrett.

If Rem were here, he’d probably call him a cheerful bastard.

Rem, Audin, and Teresa had been left behind.

“We need someone to hold the rear. Just in case we need to bail.”

That was Krys’s logic.

Encrid’s was a little different.

“Unless they plan to die fighting, what’s the point?”

They were all injured. Rest was rest.

“Stuff like this heals with spit.”

Rem protested but still slathered on the elf ointment liberally.

He even eyed Jaxson’s herb collection and nearly got into a fight.

“Elf balm is wasted on your body. Go mix up some mud and slap it on.”

Jaxson jabbed back.

They were so used to breaking up fights, they could probably do it in their sleep now.

Once they were separated, Encrid gave the order.

“Stay here.”

It was one line that cut off any insistence on coming along. He even used the [Will] of Refusal to reinforce it.

That alone showed how determined he was.

“If you die out there, I’ll personally carry the axe of vengeance.”

Rem gave up first. Audin just chuckled—though it didn’t seem like he found it funny.

“This body is too weak. That’s the issue.”

Trying to jab at Encrid’s conscience with self-deprecating words.

“Yeah. So maybe focus on getting stronger?”

Encrid countered smoothly. His tongue was practically knight-level already.

“You try winning an argument with words, and you always get wrecked. You know this, right, bear-brain? I’m warning you—don’t run your mouth in front of me.”

Rem offered some advice. Audin ignored him and simply began to pray.

“Did you witness the arrogance of our poor little commander, Father? Even if he reaches heaven, please don’t treat him too harshly.”

A prayer riding the line between blessing and curse.

“Thanks for the divine prayer.”

Encrid fired back with a final line, claiming total victory.

Audin laughed and shook his head.

Encrid didn’t press further—any more and the guy might challenge him on the spot, rank be damned.

Otherwise, he had plenty more to say.

Only Teresa didn’t protest. Her injuries were too severe to resist.

Still, she said it felt good to have taken down the Wolf Bishop.

Encrid didn’t know the full story between them, but it clearly hadn’t been a pleasant relationship.

“Good work.”

He praised her. Then left Rem and Audin behind as force support.

Now, his party consisted of Mage Esther, pragmatic Krys who wanted an escape plan, silent Ragna who had yet to share his thoughts, and Jaxson—who smiled but said he was ‘glad’ Rem had been left behind.

“Looks like he poured oil on his face.”

Ah, Sinar was here too. The elf commander had no visible wounds, just a few scratches on her arm.

“He’s greasy-looking.”

She whispered again, referring to Garrett. But honestly, he didn’t seem greasy—just handsome.

“Really?”

Good thing Garrett didn’t hear.

Though even if he had, he might’ve just brushed it off.

He was a hard-to-pin-down guy.

“Right now, you’re my superior.”

“I prefer speaking this way.”

Sinar had insisted the whole way over that he speak in a commanding tone.

“Are you the type who enjoys being dominated by your fiancé?”

Unable to resist, Encrid said it.

“Being forced by your fiancé… interesting. Wonder what that feels like.”

What the hell was she saying?

Even for an elf-style joke, that was a bit much.

“Kidding.”

Sinar still didn’t smile. But the reason she asked him to speak in command tone wasn’t just some twisted joke or kink.

It wasn’t even an order.

“If the command chain gets muddled, it’ll be a problem.”

That was the real reason.

“It’s fine.”

Sometimes, it seemed like Sinar didn’t understand the effect her appearance had.

She always gave off an air of dignity. Her gestures, her steps, her tone—everything reminded people she was an elf.

“How old are you? If you’re younger, I’ll speak casually.”

“Chain of command is none of my business.”

She turned away, still expressionless.

Encrid entered the encampment Green Pearl had built.

It was like—

“A small town.”

Large trees had been cut down to make palisades. Most lived in tents, but here and there, there were wooden houses too.

Signs of construction interrupted halfway.

Likely halted due to the war and the winter.

“Just one more winter and we could’ve had a proper village.”

Garrett said as they entered the largest tent in the center.

He sat at a wide table. A few guards stood behind him—the black-skinned woman from before included.

While not rare in the eastern continent, that ethnicity was uncommon here.

“You have no idea how much I wanted to meet you.”

Garrett suddenly said. Encrid tilted his head, puzzled.

“That battle… I heard everything. From the Green Pearl victory to the final push. What a story. Tell me more—”

“Commander.”

Garrett was seated, and Nurat stood behind him.

She bowed halfway as she spoke.

“Ah, right. Not the time for stories, huh?”

“No, sir. It’s not.”

“Azpen is at our doorstep, Commander.”

Another guard spoke—a large man with a stoic look and a square jaw.

“Right, that’s a personal matter.”

Garrett’s mood shifted instantly.

His smile didn’t change. His expression remained.

But something changed. The air around him twisted slightly.

Like when Krys reacted to a bet with Krong on the line.

Like when Audin faced someone who mocked his god.

Like when Ragna felt passion toward the sword.

Like when Rem lost his brain and did something reckless.

“I think the best course is retreat and surrender. What say you?”

As Garrett said that, Encrid saw Krys twitch.

Figures. He loves hearing about retreat.

“Why?”

Encrid asked.

“Because I don’t know what the enemy’s planning.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Krys cut in. He considered this his territory. Encrid didn’t stop him.

In fact, he gave him a nod to keep going. Garrett’s eyes turned to Krys.

“A clever one. What’s your name?”

“Krys.”

“Can’t believe I’m asking a pretty boy’s name before the two lovely ladies here. Go on, explain.”

Garrett’s tone had rhythm. It was pleasant to hear—almost musical.

Krys had already said this before, but it was worth repeating.

“When the Black Blade Bandits and the Cult attacked from the front, Azpen just watched.”

“That’s a reason?”

Sinar asked. Officially, Encrid was commander—but she was on equal footing.

“Your voice sounds like an instrument, Elf.”

Garrett couldn’t stop himself from talking nonsense.

Sinar ignored it entirely.

“It’s a reason. If what we see is all there is, Azpen should’ve struck first. It’s winter. We’ve secured supply lines to Green Pearl. It’s not perfect, but we can defend. Even without a fortress, the defense isn’t difficult. How many watchtowers?”

“Eight.”

“Widely spread?”

“Tightly.”

Their conversation was hard to follow. Encrid simply waited. They’d explain it again eventually.

“What about Azpen? Their supplies? Their advance? Their camp?”

Krys asked again—not really a question, more a point of emphasis.

All three were difficult. The difference between those who’d prepared in warm weather and those who hadn’t.

“Time and situation favor us. Yet Azpen just watched.”

Krys suspected they had some kind of monster on their side—someone brilliant.

Otherwise, it made no sense.

“They’ve prepared something.”

“Exactly. Honestly, I thought they might just back off. But no, they’re coming.”

“They’re coming?”

“They are.”

“Speed?”

“Slow.”

“Not good.”

“Not good at all.”

Nurat bent slightly and addressed her commander.

“No one understands this.”

“Krys, use common speech.”

Encrid cut in at the right time.

Garrett gave a glance, and Krys explained.

Azpen hadn’t taken advantageous terrain. They weren’t moving quickly.

They were pushing forward deliberately.

Two reasons:

“One, they’ve fully assessed our forces.”

Krys began.

“Two, they’re confident they’ll win.”

Garrett finished.

The two men looked at each other—then, without a word, clapped hands in the air.

‘Clap.’ The sound echoed in the tent.

“Commander.”

Nurat bent again.

“Right, not the time to be excited, huh?”

“No, sir. It’s not.”

Garrett was an odd one, but clearly sharp. And he didn’t seem like a traitor.

Encrid didn’t smack the back of Krys’s head either.

“So, if we pull back? If we flee?”

“The city falls. We’re labeled war criminals. Tried in the royal courts. So retreat might seem like an answer—but it’s not.”

Krys had been asked, but Garrett answered.

The two raised their hands again—but Encrid shoved Krys’s head down.

Then said,

“Then bring me a way to win.”

Thinking wasn’t his specialty.

That was Krys’s strength.

“That’s not something I can come up with on the spot. We’ll need to start with terrain—”

“Nurat.”

At Garrett’s word, a map appeared. A military map showing the local geography.

“What about our supplies?”

“No problem. They’d have to break through four tightly spaced towers to cut our lines.”

As Krys and Garrett delved into another conversation of their own, Encrid stepped back.

He listened for a bit—but if he understood even half, he’d consider it a win.

Sinar had already gone outside.

Encrid left the tent too. He needed fresh air.

The oil in the brazier made the inside stuffy.

Outside, Ragna was already standing there.

He quietly looked at Encrid.

He had something to say.

When Encrid approached, Ragna tilted his head and looked past the palisade into the sky.

“Why do you want to become a knight?”

It was a sudden question.

But also, a pleasant one.

He didn’t ask ‘if’—he asked ‘why’.

Not “Do you really want to be a knight?”

But,

“Why do you want to be one?”

That one word—’why’—carried a world of difference.