Chapter 353
“Make all the ministers your allies.”
Krang recalled Queen Naurilia’s words.
It was a meeting held not in the audience chamber but in a secret place.
‘What was the first question she asked me?’
He thought back to that moment—right when Encrid had been saying something to the wild horse with mismatched eyes.
“Shall we go?”
Ah, that madman.
Where was he planning to go? And why was the horse nodding as if it understood?
The instant he saw that, his entire conversation with the Queen resurfaced, word for word.
“Why should I hand over the throne?”
The Queen had asked him this. He didn’t know if his answer was good.
He had simply spoken the truth inside him.
“It is only right that someone who vows to protect the kingdom should sit upon the throne.”
That was his entire answer.
“There remains one more who will ask me that same question.”
The Queen did not evaluate his reply. She simply continued calmly.
Krang bowed his head, accepting the Queen’s will. The conversation that followed was more practical.
“The nobles have their own factions. Can you manage them all?”
“Not even a mind-reading wizard could know that.”
Predicting climate is easier than predicting people. One must read water currents, understand nature, learn the flow of the skies.
Even a wizard capable of such feats cannot know a human heart, which changes by the moment.
“I could predict how much rain will fall next month. But I could never know the heart of the farmer who will till this land tomorrow.”
A saying once spoken by a wizard—famous throughout the continent.
Whether the words were truly exchanged did not matter. The meaning was clear.
A man who swore loyalty yesterday may betray you for a handful of gold tomorrow.
That is human nature.
Especially politicians—whose hearts change in the morning, again at midday, then again at night, and change once more before dawn.
‘Prediction is impossible.’
How could anyone follow each shift in the hearts of men?
But perhaps… it is possible to guide them.
Through threats. Through promises. Through rewards. Through understanding their desires and ambitions.
Even if a wizard cannot see a man’s heart, a skilled politician or strategist can. Not with magic—through insight.
‘Identify the factions. Make all the ministers your allies.’
He understood the Queen’s intent.
Could he fill the audience chamber with his own supporters?
Difficult.
Most would say impossible.
How many factions existed in Naurilia’s palace right now?
Even the Queen didn’t know.
Those serving merchant guilds.
Those dreaming of creating their own small kingdoms.
Those who pledged themselves to powerful nobles.
Those still loyal to the royal bloodline.
No one was on Krang’s side.
Hence—it was difficult.
Very difficult.
But…
‘The process will be grueling.’
That was certain.
Yet there was a way. Krang heard the Queen’s words and nodded.
“As you command.”
“I pray the goddess of fortune walks beside you.”
The god Queen Naurilia believed in was the god of the scales—the one who governs the sun and moon, fairness and judgment.
Yet she spoke of the goddess of fortune.
That alone meant Krang’s future would be steep.
“Good luck. May the fairness of the scales be with you.”
Krang ended the conversation with the words of the god his own sister believed in.
The Queen had no children; she could not have them.
Krang was a child born of the previous King in his old age.
Why had the previous King hidden that child?
Certainly not because he intended to pass on the throne.
But things had twisted and tangled until the Royal Palace became a chaotic marketplace.
No—more like an arena.
One man puffed up his chest to intimidate, another hid a dagger behind his back.
Into such a place, Krang was stepping.
‘Make the ministers your allies.’
The words returned to him again and again.
Every day, he wrestled with dozens of worries and made dozens of decisions.
There was a way forward—but the path was thorny.
The headaches never stopped. Laughing at Encrid eased it a little, but the pain always lingered.
He was used to it.
That was the path he had chosen.
A thorn-filled road—but one he would not abandon.
Hadn’t the man before him shown why?
‘What do you want to be?’
‘A knight.’
He remembered asking, remembered Encrid’s answer.
It wasn’t laughable.
It was far better than a poet lazing in a remote mansion dreaming of a crown.
Above all, it was sincere.
The Queen’s words and Encrid’s answer merged in Krang’s mind.
It should have been complicated—but it wasn’t.
His headache should have worsened—but it eased.
For fifteen days, even under constant assassination attempts, Krang felt unprecedented peace.
All thanks to them.
Perhaps that was why…
Why he felt even calmer now.
“I’m going.”
Encrid mounted the mismatched-eyed wild horse as he spoke to it.
He didn’t need the horse to bow its back—he simply kicked off the ground.
His body rose, bent slightly, then extended backward—an unnatural posture for mounting.
Yet at the apex of his jump, he drifted for a split second and landed perfectly atop the horse.
A clean, controlled movement.
One man, full weight and equipment, landed atop the beast.
The ground thudded—but the horse did not waver.
It stood as firm as a statue.
Amazing that the horse endured—and that the rider made it look so effortless.
‘Without even grabbing the mane?’
A standing jump. Onto an unsaddled horse.
“What are you doing?”
Rem asked from behind. Ragna watched quietly. Dunbakel’s eyes widened. Jaxson observed with something like amusement.
“I’ll be back.”
Encrid vanished in an instant.
Thump!
Krang’s jaw dropped.
What was that?
What kind of horse exploded the ground like that?
The wild horse kicked off with impossible speed.
A tearing sound of earth, then a streak carved across the road.
Encrid bent low, as if fusing with the horse.
Seeing that… half of Krang’s worries evaporated.
Separate from the shock, his heart felt light.
He had agonized endlessly, searching for better answers even when the answer was already there. The headaches were constant.
But now—
“Ha.”
A hollow laugh escaped him.
Encrid wasn’t worried at all.
It felt as though the man wasn’t chasing an assassin, but simply running because the horse asked him to.
“He’s crazy… that guy.”
Krang muttered.
“You just realized?” the gray-haired barbarian agreed.
“Isn’t he your leader?”
“That’s right. But crazy is crazy. Be careful—everyone here is a little off.”
Rem spun his finger beside his ear, summarily labeling the whole unit.
Ragna turned.
He had been watching Encrid run, but he couldn’t ignore that comment.
“That guy’s hobby is hitting heads with an axe. Friend or foe—doesn’t matter. Be careful.”
“Don’t believe him. That one has a lazy demon inside.”
“Look who’s talking.”
Jaxson cut in smoothly.
Rem pointed at him.
“That guy has a dozen sly wildcats inside him. Don’t get close unless you want trouble.”
“Wow, says the right person.”
Dunbakel clicked her tongue.
“She’s a beastkin who hit her head as a kid. Forgive her.”
“Who hit their head!”
These lunatics…
Krang, of course, kept such thoughts to himself.
“Is this really the time to argue?”
He simply tossed one calm remark, and their attention shifted immediately.
At some point, Krang’s tone had become more alive—more genuine. His earlier stiffness was gone.
“Anyway. Stay alert.”
Rem glanced at Krang one more time.
Krang soon looked toward the path Encrid and the horse had taken.
A run that scattered worries.
His clouded mind cleared.
‘Action instead of worry.’
Dozens of problems he had carried on the road to the palace vanished.
His headache lifted.
He felt refreshed—like waking to bright sunlight.
And sunlight was all around him now.
“He runs well.”
Krang murmured, impressed.
Horse and rider—now just a dot on the horizon.
“I know. That’s a wild horse, but it runs like a trained one when he’s on it.”
Krang wondered why Rem kept lingering beside him.
Honestly, he wanted him gone.
Even he could tell—Rem was the craziest of them all.
—
Encrid didn’t literally understand the mismatched-eyed horse’s words.
Only a druid could communicate with such a creature.
Esther knew that.
The panther narrowed her eyes, watching Encrid’s back.
She knew this wasn’t magic or mystery.
Encrid understood the horse’s intent through intuition.
And because the horse’s intelligence was unusually high for a beast, it expressed itself clearly.
“Heeheeing.”
Through cries, gestures, and movements.
Encrid understood—and mounted.
He had already signaled Rem to protect Krang.
Otherwise, they might just let Krang die while watching the show.
The moment his weight dropped on the horse’s back, Encrid felt a blazing force.
An intangible energy in its mane, fur, and muscles.
‘[Will]?’ (T/N : Horse with a Will? WTH )
Something akin to that.
Similar to the [Will] he had felt in rejection, in acceleration, in the Pressing Blade.
“What are you?”
He whispered.
His eye level dipped slightly.
‘I’m going to run.’
The intent came without words or cries.
Encrid lowered his body.
The horse ran.
Thump!
A horse running while breaking the ground—had anyone seen such a thing?
‘I’m riding one now.’
The speed was overwhelming. Everything streaked past.
Encrid used [Will] to maintain acceleration—and adapting was effortless.
“Crazy!”
He had already closed in on one of the mounted archers.
The man shouted.
His horse was fast—almost a fine breed—but no comparison to this half-Demonized beast.
The mismatched-eyed horse closed the distance, adjusted speed, bent its joints, and rammed the other horse’s flank.
Thud!
From the archer’s perspective, the world tilted the moment he yelled “Crazy.”
The charge was instant and merciless.
Encrid hardly felt the impact. The horse absorbed everything.
‘Crazy mismatched-eyed horse.’
Encrid threw a cheap dagger.
It whistled through the air and struck an archer’s throat.
“Let’s go further.”
“Heeheeing!”
The horse answered as it ran—almost sounding like agreement.
Why was it suddenly carrying him like this?
Maybe because it hated seeing enemies fleeing leisurely—like saying, “Bet you can’t catch me.”
And the horse couldn’t stand that.
Encrid’s guess was correct.
The horse, who disliked even its own nickname, despised being taunted by prey.
A trivial reason—but for a beast whose entire life was running, it mattered.
“Let’s go.”
Encrid caught four more archers. After that, no more attempts came.
When they returned, the horse ran twice as fast as the others, then stopped as gently as a falling feather.
A creature born to run.
“You’ve worked hard. Has that horse ever been ridden before?”
Krang asked as soon as Encrid approached.
His tone had changed—more relaxed, more alive.
Until now he had spoken as if each word carried a stone.
But jokes were exchanged now, and he did his duties without stiffness.
‘Much better.’
Encrid’s brief impression.
As they resumed their march, Krang asked:
“What will you do when you become a knight?”
“I plan to end the war.”
Krang’s pupils tightened.
“Just a mere knight?”
Could a knight be called mere?
Perhaps only someone with a vast dream could say so.
“Why? Can’t I do it?”
“No…”
Why was he shaking his head after saying it himself?
Their dreams were the same.
Yet to end the war, even greater conflict might be required.
Contradictions. Conflict. But that was the nature of such dreams.
Now, though—there were no worries.
Strangely enough, watching that fool Encrid ride a wild horse made many of his fears feel pointless.
“Let’s have a spar later.”
“Anytime.”
Krang now talked to everyone as if assassination attempts were nothing.
* * *
He didn’t exactly become friends—but he spoke comfortably with each of them.
“I heard you get lost easily?”
“No. I just think going quickly matters more than going correctly.”
He spoke with Ragna.
“You’re gloomy.”
“If a barbarian threatens you with a carrot, you shake it.”
He spoke with Jaxson over boiled carrots.
“I heard your hobby is smacking your superior’s head with an axe?”
“Who said that? That’s not a hobby. It’s a specialty.”
He laughed with Rem.
“You seem a little crazy.”
“You know who’s the craziest? The leader. He’s the craziest of all.”
Rem even whispered a secret.
“Did you know that she is a were-tiger and not a beastkin”
“My beast form is a white lion. Say that again in front of me and see if I don’t bite your head off.”
“Enki would scold you.”
“…You’re cunning. Have you always been like this?”
He even teased Dunbakel at one point.
Before he knew it, the capital of Naurilia lay before them.
They had ridden for more than fifteen days.
“Why won’t you let me ride it once?”
Rem tried repeatedly to ride the mismatched-eyed horse. It never worked.
And Encrid never attempted to ride it again either.
It seemed to be saying: ride a normal horse during normal travel.
Ahead stood the capital.
A wall stronger and longer than any city’s, stretching to both sides.
The heart of Naurilia. The King’s chamber. The Royal Palace.
Nauria.
Krang straightened his back and shoulders.
The sun rose, shining against the walls. Their dull dark gray tone brightened as they absorbed the sunlight.
The walls glowed faintly at night—an ancient spell imbued within them.
The sight of sunlight being drawn into stone was overwhelming.
“I see.”
“What?”
Encrid asked, still looking at the walls.
Krang replied immediately.
“The craziest one… is still you.”
What nonsense.
Had he been spending too much time near Rem?
Encrid began to worry about Krang’s mental state.