Chapter 344
“You call this tea?”
Markus lifted the cup before him. The taste was awful. If it even smelled vaguely like herbs, that would’ve been an improvement.
“You should’ve come to the lord’s office if that bothers you.”
Lord Graham responded to Markus’ complaint.
“This place was closer on the way, and I heard the sound of fighting, so I stopped by first. Did that upset you?”
“Not at all.”
Markus visiting Encrid first—so what?
Graham didn’t care. These days he was completely absorbed in the joy of swinging a sword.
Should he insist that, as the lord, he should be respected first?
He wasn’t some noble.
He didn’t care.
If anything, he wanted to spar with Encrid whenever he had time.
They looked like they’d just finished a sparring match—could he ask for one now?
Encrid would always accept a duel, but now wasn’t the time. Not with Markus sitting here.
At the table sat the lord, Markus, Encrid, and Krys.
The squad members showed zero interest in getting involved with such troublesome talk.
“Looks like he came to play because he’s bored. Go entertain him.”
Rem said that and left.
While Markus complained about the tea, Encrid’s attention drifted to the two escorts behind him.
Especially the man on the left.
A tall man with long arms, a whip coiled at his waist.
A sharp metal weight hung at the tip—getting hit by that wouldn’t just hurt.
What would he do if Encrid tried to close the distance?
Curiosity stirred. A whip was a long weapon—its power grew with distance.
Keeping a safe gap where he could strike without being struck made the weapon dangerous.
Encrid wanted to face him.
He used an unusual weapon.
“You didn’t even glance at our Kin, did you?”
Markus suddenly said. Encrid didn’t understand.
He didn’t even know who Kin was.
“The beauty we sent from our family last time, don’t you remember?”
“Oh.”
How long had it been? Not long enough to forget—Encrid simply hadn’t cared.
“She was furious you didn’t even ask her name.”
Markus sipped the tea, then pushed the cup aside, clearly unwilling to drink more.
Encrid nodded.
True—he hadn’t asked her name. She waited two days, but when she arrived, he told her to leave.
“Is that so?”
“No interest at all.”
“Should I have?”
“No need.”
Markus chuckled. Was he here for leisure? Likely not.
Beside Encrid, Krys subtly watched Markus while working through the man’s motive.
His sharp mind worked nonstop, forming questions and answers.
Why come here now?
To tell them to stop expanding the city?
No—that wouldn’t be it.
‘If anything, he’d use that as an excuse to avoid responsibility.’
Since he was the former lord, he’d probably claim he needed to deliver the warning personally.
A legitimate reason—a perfect excuse to step away from the capital.
More importantly—why had the capital summoned Lord Markus previously?
Because someone suspected a rebellion due to the increased troops and demanded he return to the capital if he disagreed.
But now, the city grew even larger. The soldiers increased. It was becoming a substantial armed force.
It could be called the rise of a dangerous warlord.
“See? Not my fault! So I came to scold them properly!”
Outwardly he would speak politely, but the actual meaning wasn’t far from that.
If Markus pushed hard enough, it wouldn’t be difficult to distance himself politically.
So had he come to deliver a warning?
Krys didn’t think so.
His instincts said otherwise.
What was the real reason for coming here now?
There must be something that pushed Markus to leave the capital.
What did he want?
What was he aiming for?
What was here in Border Guard that he needed to see?
Krys’ gaze turned naturally.
He looked at Encrid—the black-haired, blue-eyed, dangerously unpredictable Captain of the Madman Company.
From the royal palace’s perspective, he was a blade that appeared out of nowhere.
‘Ah.’
Krys finally understood part of the situation.
‘The Captain is here.’
Encrid’s existence was like a meteor falling from the sky.
A burning red star demanding attention—not repelling stares, but attracting them. Both favorable and hostile.
Markus leaned toward the favorable, but trusting anyone in politics was foolish.
Krys learned that from books and life.
Likewise, Markus wouldn’t trust Encrid easily.
‘Which means… he’s here to confirm.’
What did that confirmation mean?
While the three exchanged meaningless talk, Krys repeated his analysis.
He built hypotheses and compared them to current events.
Facts he knew. Things he deduced. Things he couldn’t know but could speculate on. Things still shrouded in darkness.
Layer by layer, the pieces formed a conclusion.
And after confirming it all, Krys finally spoke.
The Captain needed to hear this—otherwise he would be dragged along by the tide. Perhaps Encrid wouldn’t be dragged anywhere, but still…
Leaving danger unspoken was not an option.
For some reason, Krys imagined Encrid’s back standing before him—blocking his path as always.
Regardless, what needed to be said must be said. If he failed to speak now, he’d lose the advantage.
Krys knew this well. So he spoke. His tongue moved.
“You’re here to confirm something, aren’t you?”
At that sudden question, Lord Graham turned first.
He was well-rested aside from training. All work had been pushed onto the adjutant. Recently, Krys handled most matters anyway. The adjutant merely assisted.
With the lord’s approval, Krys had even hired several staff members under him for administrative duties. The Rockfreed Company had provided massive support as well.
Having rested well, the lord’s eyes were clear. He turned to Krys.
“What are you implying?”
Lord Graham asked. Markus hadn’t made him lord for nothing—he knew when to speak and when to stay silent.
Markus only watched without responding.
“Why does the capital leave a pretender king unattended? Why do they neglect their borders?”
Krys raised his voice slightly.
The lord’s brow furrowed. Those were dangerous words.
It could be taken as discussing treason.
They were already under scrutiny for swelling troop numbers. They only endured because Markus blocked accusations from the center.
So what was Krys doing now?
Krys placed his hands on the table, interlaced his fingers, and leaned forward as he spoke.
“If we raised troops here, the capital would not send soldiers. No—they ‘cannot’.”
Before the lord replied, Markus asked:
“Why do you think so?”
“You said it yourself earlier.”
“Leaving the pretender king be? Neglecting border defense?”
Monsters roamed unchecked, and even low-level Danger Zones were being ignored.
If the Madman Company—those who weren’t even knights—could handle those threats, then the knight orders certainly could.
He had seen Junior Knight Aisia and Frok Ruagarne before. The capital could deal with low-level Danger Zones if they chose to. But they hadn’t.
No—they couldn’t.
Sending one Junior Knight was possible, but sending a contingent of the knight order was not. Why?
‘They lack the resources.’
That was Krys’ conclusion.
“There’s trouble in the capital. Something more dangerous than defeating a border pretender or cleaning up monsters.”
Markus studied him. His eyes narrowed over the “Big Eyes.”
Had he always been like this?
Honestly, Markus felt impressed.
Border Guard’s size had transformed.
Most striking were the outposts stationed with ten-man squads each—an impressive sight.
Were these measures simply to deal with monsters?
No. There were deeper effects.
First, they stabilized merchants’ trust.
If the outposts remained safe long-term, even small peddlers would begin traveling the route.
Expanding the network of outposts would widen its effect.
Markus had also seen something earlier.
A bottleneck—people flooding toward Border Guard.
Merchant trust would bring coin—gold becoming the blood pumping life through the city.
With that flow of gold, the city would grow larger and wealthier.
Thus—
‘No wonder neighboring lords are losing their minds.’
Territorial populace meant territorial strength.
But farmers were running away—to Border Guard.
Border Guard had the capacity to accept them.
Green Pearl Plains existed.
They lacked workforce, food, housing—but that was only because they hadn’t been developed.
And all of that could be solved with Krong.
‘Trade brings gold.’
And rumor brings people.
A brilliant strategy.
Outposts had another effect.
A justification.
The capital watched troop expansion carefully.
Outposts would provide an excuse.
Because monsters roamed, they required manpower. And in exchange, they offered secured trade routes.
“We aren’t amassing forces—we’re spreading them out.”
With that argument, troop expansion looked harmless.
And a man who could plan this much wouldn’t stop here.
If Markus were doing this, he wouldn’t either.
He’d expand the trade roads further—maybe even to neighboring territories.
Not all of them—that wasn’t possible.
‘But he could build new frontier towns.’
A network of trade zones radiating from Border Guard, with vast farmland behind and a rising army.
Larger and richer than the territory of Count Molsenn—the so-called King of the Outlands.
Had they foreseen this far?
‘Of course.’
Otherwise, why do all of this?
Whose mind came up with this plan?
After seeing the results, Markus realized—it came from the big-eyed one.
Had Markus been told to think of such a plan, he never could’ve.
Markus set his elbows on the table and clasped his hands, raising his chin.
“You say the capital has trouble. What do you think it is?”
“How would I know?”
Krys shrugged and leaned back.
He refused to speak recklessly.
Even though he clearly had guesses?
This brat was truly entertaining.
“You dare speak so rudely to your lord.”
One of Markus’ escorts stepped forward. Krys didn’t even look at him.
Instead—
“It feels like things are reversed here.”
Encrid spoke.
Usually, it’d be the subordinate stepping in to shield the superior.
But well—it didn’t matter.
Encrid continued:
“Don’t step forward. You’ll lose your head.”
He didn’t even look at the escort, yet said it casually.
Veins bulged on the escort’s hand.
He placed his fingers on his sword grip—ready to draw and attack.
A Junior Knight? No. But he had definitely fought many battles.
Encrid knew the man underestimated him.
No matter how much rumor spread, fools who didn’t believe it would always appear.
Encrid had seen countless of them.
On Frok’s days off, or when he refused to deal with someone—there were those who challenged him.
Stronger than normal soldiers, near “Junior Knight-level” mercenaries or noble guards.
Like this man.
“Draw that sword and I’ll really hit you. You talk more and I’ll still hit you.”
Encrid warned again.
Markus watched with curious amusement.
The escort decided.
He’d teach this arrogant dog a lesson.
He didn’t need to cut—just smack him with the flat.
He popped the latch on the scabbard.
He wasn’t going for Encrid—he would smack Krys across the face.
“Don’t.”
Graham warned, but it was too late.
The escort drew his sword—shiiink—and was about to raise it—
Encrid stood up, sliding his chair back.
The chair scraped—then tipped over.
And Encrid vanished.
At least, that’s what the escort saw.
A [Moment of Will].
Encrid closed the distance instantly.
“Uh!?”
Startled, the escort jerked his blade back.
Encrid pressed down on the man’s sword-hand lightly and drove his opposite elbow into him.
Thud.
His elbow struck between the stomach and heart.
“Ghk!”
He hit the breathing point—Audin had taught him that.
The escort wheezed and collapsed.
The other escort didn’t move. He was the more cautious type, standing behind Markus, watching silently.
Encrid stepped back into stance.
He had something to add.
Krys had asked whether Markus came to confirm something—Markus hadn’t answered.
What was that confirmation?
Krys had judged the danger too high to finish the thought—but Encrid didn’t care.
It didn’t matter.
“Is it civil war?”
So he asked.
What was the confirmation for?
Drawing lines.
Are you with us or against us?
And why draw lines this way?
War. Conflict.
If it were a war with external enemies, this wouldn’t be necessary.
Meaning—
Civil war.
“You catch on quick.”
Markus said. Encrid checked to see if the fallen escort would rise again, but the man backed away, holding his stomach. His eyes were fierce, but he clearly understood the difference in strength.
“A man worthy of ignoring Kin.”
Markus added.
Encrid didn’t see what that had to do with anything.