Chapter 334
Each morning began the same way—training in the [Isolation Technique] with Audin, followed by slow, deliberate sword swings that required full control of every muscle movement. After that came his sparring sessions with Rem.
Between trainings, he ate his meals, sometimes snacking on herb pies.
His activity level was extraordinary; naturally, so were his appetite and endurance.
Eating much was a given.
Aside from eating, sleeping, and relieving himself, Encrid spent every waking moment training his body like a man possessed.
The first thing he did after fully recovering was destroy a tent.
And after that?
He returned to refining himself—an endless cycle of observation, thought, and discipline.
Krys really must have pulled some strings, because no one came bothering him anymore.
That alone was a blessing.
He even went as far as to declare that he wouldn’t accept any tribute from the Gilpin Guild anymore.
Then, one day, he was told there was someone he should meet—and when he stepped outside the barracks, an unexpected face greeted him.
“Did you get even more handsome?”
She said it with a teasing smile.
He recognized that smile, that face.
Leona Rockfreed.
The master of a merchant company—and a friend he had once spent a quiet night talking with.
When Encrid silently looked at her, she smiled and asked,
“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten my name already?”
“How could I forget?”
She had been memorable, to say the least.
She’d once asked if they could be friends.
Coming from a woman who had ousted the former merchant lord’s son to seize control of her company, that word had sounded oddly fresh.
They had eaten herb pies, drunk pumpkin soup, strolled through the market.
They’d stayed up all night trading jokes and words.
You couldn’t become close friends overnight, but mutual fondness had remained.
Not romantic—just human.
Now, as the head of the Rockfreed Company, Leona wore neat leather trousers, a white shirt, and a fur vest.
Even her shirt was unusually thick; to be honest, Encrid had never seen fabric like that before.
Looking at it, his first thought was that it would make a perfect inner lining for a gambeson if woven thicker.
Always a warrior—his mind went straight to combat applications.
The two faced each other at the edge of the camp, while Krys muttered beside them,
“Where exactly does she see the ‘handsome’ part?”
Encrid hadn’t shaved, was drenched in sweat, and hadn’t bathed.
His hair was overgrown and half-dried with sweat.
Filthy, in short.
Krys wrinkled his nose.
He knew that what truly attracted women wasn’t just a face—it was the atmosphere.
‘Scent, gaze, posture, looks, discipline.’
Appearance mattered, but it wasn’t everything.
So did Encrid have an irresistible aura right now?
Only if the woman was into lunatic swordsmen.
Definitely not.
The word “charm” would’ve died of embarrassment.
“I told you to wash up first,” Krys said.
“Waste of time,” Encrid replied without looking back.
He was too deep in thought—recalling that night.
‘A night’s rest.’
There had been no signals, no touch.
Just conversation.
Rest.
And what had he gained from it?
Something unforgettable.
A feeling.
The rhythm of his sword, the step before the swing, the shift of his shoulders—he had connected each motion, learned to draw the shortest possible line between two points.
That was when he had first grasped part of what “speed” truly was.
But what he learned wasn’t as important as how he learned it.
Remembering that process brought the sensation back.
He wasn’t about to act on it immediately, but it helped him refine his direction a little more precisely.
He was already on the right path—this was just a slight adjustment.
And for now, he thought, it was time to simply greet an old friend.
“You really have changed,” Leona said, staring into his eyes.
She was a merchant, and merchants were good judges of people.
Half of what she said was teasing—but half was genuine.
It wasn’t about his looks.
Something about him had shifted.
‘Strange,’ she thought.
He had changed, though she couldn’t quite describe how.
She felt it—instinctively. As a woman, and as a trader.
Of course, he had changed. Otherwise, how could he have achieved so much, spread his name across every nearby city, even the capital?
“Do I have more wrinkles?” he joked.
“Is that supposed to be funny?” she shot back.
They exchanged a brief laugh.
Perhaps they should have tea.
Before Encrid could suggest it, Krys gestured, and a few soldiers hurriedly set up a table and chairs.
Such preparation.
Encrid’s sharp instincts told him there was a reason Krys had called him here.
“You can’t just stand around chatting, and the Captain’s busy,” Krys said, miming sword swings.
Leona knew exactly what that meant.
She’d seen his obsession with training before. Back when the Rockfreed Company had dealings with the Border Guards, he had challenged someone to an impromptu duel.
She’d even watched one of his sessions herself.
Encrid glanced at Krys.
The wide-eyed man even provided convenient excuses.
There was definitely something behind this.
Leona sat down gracefully, eyes never leaving Encrid.
Behind her stood Matis, the same bodyguard as before—and another man, blond and blue-eyed, strikingly handsome, exuding calm confidence.
“Why are you here?” Encrid asked.
“Would you believe me if I said to visit a friend?”
“Not really.”
“You’re right. It’s business. But seeing a friend is a nice bonus, isn’t it?”
She smiled.
He smiled back.
It wasn’t a bad meeting—except for the tea.
It tasted awful.
The kind of tea they served to unwanted guests as a hint to leave.
‘On purpose?’
Of course.
Krys’s intent was obvious.
And somehow, even pretending not to notice made him look more shamelessly likable.
Encrid focused back on Leona.
They chatted idly about trade.
“Hard to believe how famous you’ve gotten,” she said. “I knew it would happen. I should’ve brought you into the company when I had the chance.”
“Do merchant companies really need swordsmen that often?”
“All the time. We’re a traveling company, after all.”
It was interesting, hearing her explain.
Merchant companies came in two types—traveling and settled.
Some blended both, but Rockfreed was mainly a traveling one.
That brought its share of problems, but they had no permanent base to rely on. They’d always wandered.
Encrid wasn’t stupid—he understood the implication behind her words.
It wasn’t that they couldn’t find allies; it was that none of their alliances lasted.
Anyone who helped them probably tried to swallow them whole or stab them in the back.
That was how the Rockfreed Company came to be as it was.
Without a permanent base, they lacked influence in any region.
To profit, they had to link with local guilds—but alliances were unstable.
So they had carved out their own trade route, dealing with groups like the Glacier Rangers, the Blackhide Guild, and the Shepherds of the Wilds.
Few merchants dared to trade with such organizations.
That was the Rockfreed way.
But even they needed stability now—especially in such turbulent times.
Where should they root themselves?
‘A place where the tides are turning,’ he thought.
A place of opportunity.
A city growing in value despite internal unrest.
Like Border Guard.
Perfect.
Encrid understood.
But he didn’t say it—and neither did she.
If Krys had called this meeting to give the Border Guard leverage, he’d miscalculated.
These two weren’t negotiating; they were just meeting as friends.
“Married yet?” she asked.
“No.”
“What about that elf?”
“You mean the one who jokingly calls herself my fiancée?”
“Boring.”
“What about you?”
“I’m practically married to my company.”
“Truly?”
“Not really. I do have a fiancé, but I’m not sure about it. It’s mostly political. If things go my way, I might cancel it. But don’t get any ideas—I don’t chase what’s already turned me down. You can just live regretting it.”
“I’ll do that occasionally.”
“Regret should be constant and agonizing.”
“I’m busy.”
“Swinging your sword?”
“You know me well.”
They both laughed.
For a moment, Encrid felt young again.
Leona had a way of putting people at ease.
Whether that was merchant skill or genuine kindness didn’t matter.
The moment was simply pleasant.
As they chatted, Krys suddenly interrupted.
“An arranged marriage? That’s outrageous.”
Now? Really?
“I told you, I don’t want it either,” Leona replied.
“Exactly! Captain, don’t you agree?”
“…What?”
Krys kicked Encrid’s foot under the table, pretending to sip the awful tea he’d sworn never to drink.
Encrid understood.
‘A business relationship.’
That’s what tied Krys and Leona here.
That bitter tea wasn’t an accident—it was a signal.
Rockfreed needed a base.
Border Guard needed a shield against troublesome merchants.
Their needs aligned.
Encrid found it funny.
So that’s why Krys had called him—using his friendship to gain leverage.
‘Your friend’s here, are you really going to refuse?’
Pathetic.
Krys only pulled stunts like this for one reason.
“How much did they pay you?” Encrid asked.
There had to be a promise with the lord behind this.
He saw right through it, but Krys didn’t flinch.
When gold was involved, he was a master actor and cunning negotiator.
“Pardon? What do you mean?”
“She came as a friend.”
If he was going to use their friendship for advantage, he should at least think of what he’d owe in return.
“Please don’t say things that could be misunderstood…”
“It’s fine,” Leona cut in. “Business should always be clean.”
To Encrid, her words meant: *I won’t be fooled by tricks, but I won’t stoop to them either.*
“I’ll be going.”
He stood.
This wasn’t his concern anymore.
“See you next time,” Leona said with a bright smile, raising her hand.
He took her hand and kissed the back of it lightly before turning away.
Proper manners—learned long ago from escorting noblewomen at banquets for gold, back in his mercenary days.
“Definitely a salon man,” Krys muttered.
As Encrid walked off, someone stopped him.
“Excuse me—Sir.”
It was Matis.
He tried to hide his expression, but shock was clear on his face.
He had heard the rumors but hadn’t believed them.
Seeing Encrid in person changed that.
There was a calm confidence about him—a clear sign of a real master.
“Would you spar with me?” Matis asked.
Encrid was already in his training gear, with three swords at his hip—the gladius, the silver longsword, and [Blazeblade].
“Anytime.”
He didn’t refuse.
Leona didn’t stop him either—she knew Matis well enough to understand he couldn’t help himself.
Ting.
Both drew their blades.
Without a word, they stepped forward and met in the center.
Clang, clang.
Three light exchanges—testing, warming up.
Then Matis struck for real.
He was skilled—a fighter of city-level strength.
“City-level strength?” Rem would’ve scoffed. “If you get cut, you die just the same.”
Still, Matis was strong. Recognized as such.
And yet—
Ting.
The moment steel met steel, he realized Encrid’s sword wasn’t slower than his.
He tried to press down, using a form meant to suppress mixed-style swords.
But Encrid’s blade moved first—faster.
It struck aside Matis’s sword and slid forward like a snake.
A [Snake Sword] strike—deflecting, flowing, and thrusting all in one motion.
The illusion made the blade seem to curve midair.
Before it reached his neck, Matis froze—staring at the silver edge.
He hadn’t even seemed to exert himself.
And his swordsmanship—flawless, beyond Matis’s own.
“Ha…”
All he could do was sigh.
Compared to before, Encrid was an entirely different man.
The difference in skill was absolute.
Even had he been fully alert, the result would be the same.
Holding out longer would change nothing.
“Well then.”
Encrid didn’t know how to comfort the defeated.
He simply turned and walked away.
He knew Matis would stand again.
The man wasn’t a knight, but a warrior of a merchant company.
He’d remember his duty and move forward.
Behind him, Krys began the real negotiations.
Hearing the voices, Encrid realized what the man had done.
“So, as for what you’ll handle and what Border Guard will provide—everything’s settled,” Krys said smoothly.
He hadn’t intended to negotiate at length.
By using Encrid’s presence, he’d forced both sides to lay their cards bare and agree to mutual trust.
He had called Encrid to act as a silent judge.
‘Clever bastard.’
Truly one of the sharpest minds on the continent.
No wonder he could juggle a hundred tasks without breaking stride.
* * *
The Rockfreed Company soon established a trading house in Border Guard.
Naturally, there was resistance from local merchants, but they took what they could and cut what they couldn’t, securing their place.
It took only a month.
During that month, Encrid swung his sword every day, without fail.
To others, it might’ve seemed meaningless repetition—but he could feel progress now.
His growth was real.
“Having fun?” Rem asked during one of their sparring sessions.
Encrid smiled.
“Obviously.”
How could anyone train like this if they didn’t enjoy it?
Rem had to admit it—his captain was insane.
Moments ago, his axe had nearly split Encrid in two.
The man should’ve died three times over by now.
The boatman watching nearby could only shake his head and mutter his third and highest praise.
“What’s inside that head of yours?”
What indeed could fill the mind of a man who spent a month doing nothing but swing his sword?
The answer was already obvious.