Chapter 356
The six nobles didn’t say a word.
They treated Krang and Encrid as if they weren’t there.
“Wait quietly. Do not open your mouth unless asked. Do not raise your head to meet anyone’s eyes, and answer questions sincerely. When the Queen calls you, step forward, kneel on one knee, and respond.”
As he spoke, Viscount Bantra approached. Encrid nodded, not reacting to the stench.
This level of odor would be hard to notice unless one was a Beastkin or had trained in Sensory Art.
Since no one else was stepping forward, it seemed Viscount Bantra was the one handling all the dirty work.
Encrid suddenly grew concerned and asked.
“Are you being bullied?”
Were the other nobles deliberately dumping all the hard tasks on him?
If so, should he wave a carrot around the way Jaxson did?
Viscount Bantra didn’t even blink.
His mental fortitude was extraordinary; there wasn’t the slightest hint of agitation.
Did Count Molsen have an eye for talent?
The trained muscles of his arms were visible even beneath his wide sleeves.
He had clearly spent a long time wielding a sword. The same went for the palm he showed as he spoke. It was similar to Encrid’s own—a palm torn and torn again from gripping a sword.
“Do not speak carelessly.”
Viscount Bantra warned. Encrid shrugged.
Perhaps because this conversation was unusual, two of the nobles turned their gazes toward them.
Still, no one opened their mouth.
After some time passed, a few nobles began whispering. They covered their mouths and spoke into each other’s ears.
They thought they couldn’t be heard—but that didn’t apply to Encrid, who possessed Sensory Art.
Once he focused, their voices came through clearly.
“He’s a lowborn fellow.”
“I heard his skills are only on par with a Junior Knight.”
“Is that bastard trying to push some bastard son into the royal guard? Is this his way of saying thank you for protecting him up to now?”
“Look at the state of the guy he brought as his ally.”
“He looks like he’s made to crawl under some noble lady’s skirts.”
If Rem heard that, would he immediately split their heads with an axe?
Rem had a deep-seated hatred for that kind of noble scum.
Encrid didn’t care. How many times had he heard things like that?
He just ignored anyone spouting nonsense.
As he let their chatter go in one ear and out the other, he glanced at Krang, who stood there impassively.
His posture remained straight, but his expression made it look like he was sitting back with his legs crossed and his arms folded.
The Queen appeared soon after.
“Her Majesty the Queen enters!”
Naturally, she didn’t come alone. The Royal Guard escorting her entered as well, taking their positions before the audience chamber doors and the back door through which the Queen had arrived.
Was the gold-painted blade-tip a matter of taste?
The thought crossed his mind.
Of course, that wouldn’t be it. It was probably a show of power. The Royal Guard also served as a ceremonial guard, so their armor was adorned with gold.
Even if nothing else, a line of gold helmets and gold spears would be a splendid sight.
The idle curiosity flickered and faded. It wasn’t important.
“Is it you?”
The Queen addressed Encrid as soon as she arrived.
She seemed more like a kind, cheerful woman than someone who ruled a country.
Encrid was reminded of the old barmaid who had taken care of him when he was young.
One was the ruler of a nation.
The other had been a barmaid carrying beer mugs.
The difference in status was obvious, and they didn’t look alike at all, but Encrid still felt something similar from the two of them.
“Lower your head.”
Viscount Bantra scolded from the side.
Should he?
“Leave him be.”
The Queen stopped him.
Then, after quietly looking at Encrid’s face for a moment, she said,
“You have a pleasant appearance.”
It was a straightforward compliment about his looks, with no hidden desire behind it.
Encrid was left with nothing to say.
He couldn’t very well reply, “Your Majesty is generous,” could he?
In truth, the Queen wasn’t the thin, frail type.
She was moderately plump and wore a tiara symbolizing the crown.
And next to her was a familiar face—Frok.
Gurgle.
Frok puffed out her cheeks for a moment. That must have been her smile.
Encrid greeted her with his eyes.
Ruagarne, a Frok, had been with him when he obtained the Proper Sword Style, had trained him in it, and flew into a rage whenever she saw a Cultist.
“Does he not know etiquette?”
Another noble spoke up. From that alone, it was clear.
The Queen’s authority was in a pitiful state. The fact that some petty noble scoundrel stepped forward like that, even after she allowed it, said enough.
Encrid noticed it, but ignored it.
“You have gathered to confirm whether he is of royal blood, correct? State your name.”
The Queen, seemingly unfazed by the noble’s remark, turned her gaze to Krang.
Encrid didn’t even get the chance to step forward and kneel.
She smoothly shifted the focus. This was the real purpose of the gathering. Naturally, the noble who had stepped forward had no way to drag Encrid back into the spotlight.
The attention moved away from Encrid. Krang stepped forward.
The noble who had been glaring at Encrid now turned that glare on Krang.
He was a man without conviction. Once he’d decided to show malice, he should have stuck to it instead of turning his gaze wherever the wind blew.
Encrid thought as much while watching Krang walk forward.
His stride was, well.
Neither fast nor slow, but composed. As he walked and lifted his head to face the Queen, there was a clear progression.
In that short span, Encrid saw Krang meet the Queen’s eyes on equal footing, despite standing below the throne.
His gaze held strength, spirit, and dignity.
His clothes were dusty from travel, and his hair was unkempt from not being able to wash properly, but none of that mattered.
He had grace and dignity.
“Crianath Randeus Nauril, I am here.”
Krang spoke. His voice resonated through the grand hall, echoing off the audience chamber walls, as if it shook his whole body just to listen to it.
“Come here.”
At the Queen’s words, an old woman in flowing robes stepped out from behind her.
She received the pendant from Krang and compared it to the one in her own hand.
“It is correct.”
After that came a procedure to confirm Krang’s bloodline with some kind of spell.
Encrid simply watched.
“It is correct. You are my flesh and blood. I acknowledge you in the name of the Queen. If anyone wishes to object, let the ministers speak now.”
The nobles didn’t raise any objections.
But they spoke plenty with their eyes.
‘Yes, who doesn’t already know he’s the Queen’s flesh and blood.’
‘It’s all because the late King never broke his bad habits.’
They already knew everything.
At this point, when an Assassin Set had already been sent, what good would it do anyone to question Krang’s legitimacy?
They had even produced a pendant bearing the royal crest and had it verified by a Mage.
It was like watching a staged play.
Afterward, claiming to be busy with state affairs, the Queen withdrew.
The ministers also dispersed quickly.
By chance, Krang and Encrid were the last to leave the audience chamber.
The nobles treated Krang and Encrid like dirt as they passed.
They didn’t spare them a single glance.
The one who had been nitpicking their decorum said nothing now.
As they stepped out of the audience chamber, Encrid spoke.
It wasn’t really his place, but the atmosphere was strange.
“Everyone doesn’t seem interested.”
A new line of succession had just been established, and Krang had shown all that dignity—so why were the nobles so indifferent?
“Because there isn’t a single noble here who acknowledges me. There are only nobles who want me dead.”
Catching the implication in Krang’s words, Encrid asked,
“Because they think you’re going to die soon, so there’s no point in getting close to you?”
“They’re practical people.”
Krang said with a chuckle.
Was it really the time to be laughing, when his life was on the line?
The dignity he’d shown before was gone, replaced by a face full of mischief.
Encrid spoke, worried.
“Don’t get too close to Rem.”
“I keep saying this, but I really think you’re the craziest.”
“I’m serious. Try not to talk to Rem any more than you have to.”
He was tainted. Irrevocably tainted.
As they stepped out of the audience chamber—
“Enki.”
Frok, Ruagarne, called out to Encrid.
“How have you been?”
Rua struck her hand down in a chopping motion.
Recognizing the move, Encrid raised his hand and blocked it.
It was a feint.
The real threat was the foot. Frok pushed off the ground, sliding forward over the tightly laid carpet.
It was a trick to close the distance.
Capturing Sword kicked in on its own.
His slippery hand moved, bending and stabbing and striking in sync with his footwork. Encrid blocked every move.
It was easier to deflect because her skin was slick.
From the start, it was nothing more than a light exchange of moves—no killing intent, not even any real pressure.
The two Royal Guard posted at the audience chamber entrance watched, eyes shining.
The level of their exchange was high.
“If we fought seriously right now, I’d lose. You’ve improved a lot.”
Ruagarne exclaimed, puffing out her cheeks as she withdrew her hand.
She was exactly right.
Now that he had improved this much, he could have crushed those Cultist bastards even if they had invaded.
The thought put him in a good mood, and his cheeks gurgled twice more.
“Is this kind of behavior appropriate in front of the Prince?”
Encrid asked.
“No one demands etiquette from a Frok.”
“I agree.”
Krang added, then turned to Encrid.
“Did you two know each other?”
“She’s the Frok who came to the Border Guard before.”
As soon as Encrid answered, Rua spoke up, cheeks squirming.
“Was our relationship something so trivial it could be summed up like that?”
“Then how would you put it?”
“I taught you swordsmanship, and we fought together. We even explored relics and almost got trapped in one.”
“It’s a long story.”
Krang added a fitting comment.
“Yes, it is. By the way, where did everyone go?”
Encrid nodded and asked.
None of his companions were in sight.
Had a knight suddenly appeared and dragged them all off?
They weren’t the type to allow themselves to be dragged away quietly.
Since they didn’t know anyone here, they wouldn’t just go along obediently, even if someone told them they could rest inside the Royal Palace.
Regardless of Encrid’s thoughts, the gazes of the two Royal Guard watching the three of them—Encrid, Krang, and a Frok—grew complicated.
Why did Encrid speak so casually to the Prince, yet use honorifics with a Frok?
And why didn’t anyone correct him?
“I knew you’d end up here someday. Captain.”
A sudden voice rang out. Encrid turned toward it.
“Hmm?”
It was truly unexpected. Other than Marcus or Ruagarne, he hadn’t imagined he’d run into anyone he knew here.
And even if he did, he’d never expected it to be someone tied to good memories.
“You.”
“How rude, calling a noble ‘you.'”
The man replied with a smile, clearly teasing.
“Then who am I, standing before you and the Frok?”
Krang cut in.
“Yes, Your Highness, have you been well?”
“Thanks to you.”
They exchanged more meaning in that brief back-and-forth than in a dozen formal greetings.
“Let’s move somewhere else. I’ve invited everyone to my mansion.”
The familiar man said.
“Andrew.”
Encrid called his name.
“Andrew Gardner, a noble.”
“And I’m the Prince.”
“Your Highness, have you always enjoyed jokes like that?”
Andrew asked, blinking.
To Encrid, it was obvious Krang and Andrew already knew each other. And he was right.
Andrew had dreamed of restoring his family and, to that end, had staked his family’s future on someone outside any existing faction.
That someone was Krang.
After parting ways with Encrid, Andrew had gone on his own adventures and ended up where he was now.
He was now Baron Andrew Gardner, with a mansion in the capital.
“I’m surprised.”
Encrid said, tone casual.
“Your face doesn’t look surprised at all.”
“I was really surprised.”
“Then, will you be staying at Baron Gardner’s mansion?”
Ruagarne, who had been quietly listening, asked. Before Encrid could answer, Andrew cut in first.
“Please do. It will be far better than an inn.”
There was no reason to refuse.
“Then see you later. I have a lot to do.”
Ruagarne said, raising her rounded fingers and waving them.
It was a human greeting. Encrid waved back.
“Let’s talk about the rest on the way. Krang-nim?”
“I have to stay at the Royal Palace. There’s a lot to prepare for the party celebrating my return in a few days.”
A party was the last thing Encrid wanted.
Krang withdrew before hearing any reply.
Encrid studied Andrew and realized how much his friend had changed.
The stubble around his jaw was heavier now, and there was a scar under his right eye that hadn’t been there before.
He no longer needed a nanny.
Encrid had surrendered his weapons upon entering the palace, and Andrew was also empty-handed.
“Mac?”
“He’s at the mansion.”
Maybe he’d quit being a nanny and was working as a butler now.
“Okay, let’s go.”
—
Andrew summed up the last few years of his life simply and clearly.
“I regained my noble status through a mission that nearly killed me, but since then, the checks and pressure have been relentless, so I’m still basically on an adventure.”
There was no need to hear each detail of that adventure.
Encrid didn’t know whether he’d managed to properly gather Krong’s share of spoils, but Andrew did have a proper house in the capital, even if it wasn’t a mansion with a garden.
It was a three-story building.
The first floor had a reception room and a dining room, and there were rooms on the second and third floors—more than ten rooms in total.
The house was big. Properly big.
When they arrived, Encrid saw his party, including Rem.
“Wow, Andrew, you really made it.”
Rem said, chewing on a cookie in the middle of the reception room.
The capital was the center of logistics.
Naturally, food culture had developed. Desserts especially.
Rem nodded as he munched the cookie.
“Rem is still the same.”
Andrew said from behind.
Esther was dozing on a wool cushion.
The others were more or less gathered in the reception room.
Ragna stood at the window, and outside, several men were holding clubs and practicing.
“Mercenaries?”
Encrid asked.
“Owning mercenaries is forbidden in the capital.”
“Then who are they?”
“Trainees learning swordsmanship.”
“Learning from whom?”
“From me.”
“Who?”
Rem, still chewing his cookie, asked too.
Then Ragna turned his head and asked as well.
Jaxson stayed silent, quietly studying Andrew.
“You’ll be shocked when you see how much I’ve improved.”
Encrid nodded. He must have improved. Of course he would have.
Andrew had talent, in Encrid’s eyes.
“Then you must have improved.”
Encrid’s voice lacked conviction.
Hearing that, Andrew smiled.
Only his lips curled upward; his eyes did not.
Encrid had accomplished great feats, but Andrew had overcome quite a bit himself.
“A sparring match?”
Andrew suggested first. Encrid nodded again.
There had been greetings, invitations, and even meeting the Queen, but nothing made him as happy as those words.
“Are you sure you want to get beaten and cry in front of your trainees?”
Encrid worried for his long-lost unit member.
“Bite me. Come on.”
Andrew jeered.
(T/N : This guy has the best character development so far. Wow. )