Chapter 361

               

“Will they try poison or some other trick?”

The next morning, as soon as dawn broke, Encrid asked.

Jaxson shook his head.

He was back to his usual self—indifferent, bored, calm in both expression and demeanor.

Still, a faint murderous intent edged his voice.

“They won’t do the same thing again.”

Jaxson’s words were cold, laced with cynicism toward the ones who had played their tricks while he was away.

The chill—and the hint of a killing smile—vanished as quickly as it appeared.

He returned to that aloof look, the kind that wouldn’t twitch even if someone pricked him with a needle.

“You mean you won’t let them?”

Encrid asked, and Jaxson nodded, indifferent as ever.

That was enough.

As he said, nothing happened all day. The ones who had shown up as a warning didn’t appear again.

Would they come back after only one day?

No—wouldn’t they be unable to show their faces even after two or three?

In the first place, if they were the type to strike only when he was alone, they wouldn’t come when everyone was together.

Encrid spent another day.

He trained and practiced without thinking, pushing Andrew and the five trainees hard.

“Spare me.”

One of the trainees muttered without realizing it.

“Yes. One sword strike today will save you tomorrow.”

Encrid answered sincerely, earning applause from Dunbakel.

“That’s a great saying.”

“It’s not a great saying. It’s a declaration that he won’t listen to that kind of whining. You stupid Beastkin.”

Rem snapped from the side.

Their exchange barely reached Encrid’s ears.

The trainee wouldn’t have heard it. Rem had probably lowered his voice on purpose—because he understood why Encrid had answered that way.

To beg to be spared like this.

‘Then I can push them harder.’

Encrid wanted them to pour even the strength they used to complain into their swords. Not just to satisfy their needs and desires, but to keep them from dying as much as possible.

In Encrid’s eyes, the Gardner Family’s forces were only seven people.

Andrew and Mac, and five trainees.

And among them, only Andrew was even somewhat useful.

‘To be considered useful in a situation like this…’

If something happened, they would just die. Since he knew their faces, he didn’t want to watch Andrew die.

But he couldn’t shadow them and protect them everywhere.

The best option was for them to protect themselves.

That was the purpose of this training. Which meant it had to be intense.

And in times like this, it was easier to be a wall—to act as if you understood nothing at all—than to understand, sympathize, and scold.

Do people keep talking, trying to have a conversation, when they can’t communicate?

They don’t even try.

They just get busy with the work in front of them.

That was what Encrid wanted.

To be obsessively focused on what they were doing right now—to struggle.

He had come up from the bottom. He knew the mindset they needed.

“Ugh.”

The trainee despaired, and Encrid was satisfied.

Ragna watched and nodded. He always did his best.

He was the same captain Encrid remembered.

Satisfying.

Seeing that, Encrid’s motivation surged again.

‘The sword.’

Ragna quickly sank into his own world.

Jaxson, watching the same scene, stayed silent. In two days, the only thing he had said was that the enemy wouldn’t repeat the same trick.

No one spoke to him either. Even Andrew found Jaxson difficult.

Mac, naturally, wasn’t someone who talked much.

The five trainees were too busy trying to survive.

Rem and Ragna didn’t pick fights with him, either. They each had their own priorities now. Rem sometimes filled Encrid’s role when he stepped away.

“If you hit me even once, it’s a break.”

He showed the five trainees a different kind of hell. Rem even seemed to enjoy it.

Ragna swung his sword off to the side, lost in thought.

Now and then he muttered, “Light, fast, heavy,” making it obvious he was wrestling with swordsmanship.

Meanwhile, Jaxson was able to think in silence.

At first, it was about his own affairs.

‘A game of tag, is it.’

Based on what he had learned so far, he had identified the target of his revenge.

But identifying them didn’t mean he could find them.

That was the problem. He needed more information. He had to dig deeper.

After those practical concerns, more fundamental doubts raised their heads.

‘Is this right?’

The path he had chosen wasn’t one that would be “helpful.”

What was the right path? What was the answer? Why had he spent his entire life obsessed with revenge?

If revenge was the goal, was it okay to live like this?

“Pierce.”

Encrid’s word lingered in Jaxson’s mind.

Encrid—forearm wrapped tightly in bandages—entered Jaxson’s view.

As the days grew warmer, sleeves grew shorter.

The wound had been left to heal almost carelessly, more neglected than treated, yet it didn’t fester. It healed.

It was the mark left by Jaxson’s stiletto.

“Why are you worrying? Find the reason first. Think about the why.”

His master had said that.

So Jaxson did as he was told.

The reason for worry lies in the heart. It’s because the heart can’t find its way.

If you don’t know, you get dragged along. If you know, you don’t.

And finding the why didn’t mean you had to find the answer.

There were many paths.

Jaxson chose one.

Instead of trying to control his heart, he left it alone.

Instead of worrying about whether it was okay, he did it. He just did it. He moved. He acted. He kept taking steps toward the result.

It was Encrid’s mindset. Jaxson had learned it by watching him.

Once again, he caught a glimpse of the greatness of the man before him.

‘He doesn’t quit just because he lacks talent.’

He thinks instead of worrying.

If his head won’t work, he uses his body.

He uses both his body and his head. He does everything. He struggles.

“You can’t do it. What can you do with skills like that?”

His heart doesn’t waver under criticism and ridicule. He moves forward, single-minded.

The knots in Jaxson’s heart were replaced by simplicity.

The tangled thread loosened, then straightened.

So he would do what his heart told him to do now.

After that, Rem got bored and tormented the five trainees even more.

Dunbakel received two curved swords from Encrid and swung them for a long time, saying she would get used to them.

Later, she even transformed into a Beastkin and asked Ragna for a sparring match—only to get beaten down.

Ragna spent his time either swinging his sword briefly or lying on the lawn near the beds or the training ground.

He looked relaxed unless someone challenged him to spar.

Jaxson sometimes left the mansion with Encrid, and he also went out alone often.

When the two of them went out together, it was usually for a party.

Encrid took Andrew along as his escort.

Even then, he rarely ran into anyone he knew. That was how crowded the capital was now, and everyone was scrambling for a seat.

So it was bound to happen.

“You.”

“It’s been a while.”

The other man reacted, and Encrid continued.

It was a drill instructor who had taught swordsmanship when Encrid had come to the capital before.

He hadn’t been a very good person.

‘He’s a proper noble’s escort now, is he.’

That was the judgment Encrid made after taking in the man’s clothes, his weapons, and the people with him.

“Were you really that Encrid?”

The former nonsense-specialist drill instructor asked.

He had thought himself quite skilled back then, but what about now?

Encrid considered it, then nodded.

“That’s ridiculous.”

The man muttered, then whispered to his companions.

From what Encrid caught, they were calling him a fraud.

He ignored them.

Andrew frowned beside him.

“Shall we leave them be?”

Andrew looked ready to step forward himself.

“Leave them.”

Encrid looked at them and decided there was no need to pick a fight first.

The nonsense-specialist drill instructor looked back at Encrid and smiled—a fishy smile.

“Oh, well. See you around.”

Chuckling with his group, the former drill instructor left. He wasn’t even their leader.

Was anyone among them noteworthy?

It didn’t seem like it.

Encrid let it pass.

It wasn’t until several parties had come and gone that Encrid finally met Krang.

Krang said it was hard to even leave the Royal Palace.

“Everyone looks like they’re about to draw their swords at any moment.”

“Count Molsen?”

Encrid didn’t know the flow inside the Royal Palace. He had simply named the most likely suspect.

It was the wrong answer.

At that, Krang smiled.

“In reality, the one holding a knife to my throat isn’t a noble from the frontier. It’s someone inside the Royal Palace.”

Encrid didn’t ask who, but Krang continued anyway.

“It’s a man named Baron Mernes.”

From what Encrid gathered, he had collected factions within the Royal Palace and bound them into one force.

And since he was competing with Baron Vantra, he was pursuing ambitions separate from Count Molsen.

“He’s a very troublesome bastard. One of the five fingers.”

Krang spoke as he planted his palm on the bench, stretched his back, and looked up at the sky.

Why did he look so carefree, compared to what he was saying?

The “five fingers” supporting the Royal Palace meant five families.

Marquis Vaisar, the thumb.

The Rakhorn Family, the index finger—soldiers for generations.

The ruler of the frontier, the middle finger, was Count Molsen.

The ring finger had handled the kingdom’s finances for generations. The current one was a man called the Marquis of Okto.

And the little finger was the family that guarded the Royal Palace, though its name wasn’t widely known.

And right now, none of those five supported the Queen.

They were all too busy protecting their own interests.

Krang didn’t explain all of that, either. There was no need.

He glanced at Encrid’s eyes. It didn’t look like Encrid was curious about those details.

Then what had he come here to ask?

At first, Andrew—an uninvited guest at the parties—had drawn attention.

Then the rumors shifted to the escort who followed him.

A hero born from the Border Guard.

In reality, a man wrapped in inflated fame.

Someone who knew Encrid’s past must have been running their mouth.

The rumor was that Encrid had always been terrible, surviving on the reputation of his subordinates.

‘If they don’t see it, they can’t believe it?’

Was it arrogance? Conceit?

Or were they protecting the fame they had built so far?

‘It’s none of those.’

Krang saw them as idiots.

If they doubted the fame, they could test him by pretending to be friendly.

If they didn’t want to do that, they could simply watch him.

But some stupid, ignorant nobles were busy belittling and slandering Encrid instead.

‘Are they really that brainless?’

How did people like that become officials in the Royal Palace?

One of the loudest was the palace security officer.

The man above all the guard captains—the one overseeing the Royal Guard.

‘Should I be happy about this?’

Happy that a presumed enemy was stupid?

Or furious that the Royal Palace he had to govern was full of morons?

Should he blame the Queen for leading such a country?

Or pity her?

Because none of this would have been the Queen’s doing.

Of course, skill wasn’t the only reason Encrid drew attention.

“I want to see that face at least once.”

“I heard he’s so handsome?”

“I heard he’s a feast for the eyes.”

It was the curiosity of noble ladies.

The two men serving as Andrew’s escorts had devoured attention everywhere—outside the hall, inside the hall.

Those two were Encrid and Jaxson.

That was why nobles blinded by jealousy whispered behind Encrid’s back, their words edging toward criticism.

There was no stronger fuel than jealousy.

In fact, some nobles were aching to kill Encrid.

The security officer included.

If Encrid drew his sword in the city, wouldn’t the guards pour out at once?

Krang thought, then spoke.

“Baron Mernes is the son-in-law of Marquis Vaisar, and he comes from the Rakhorn Family.”

He had the strongest patron in the current Royal Palace behind him, and he had even brought private soldiers into the capital.

He had also pulled some of the Royal Guard under his command.

Since entering the capital, he had expanded his power rapidly, gathering nearby factions as well.

In this situation, he was twice as dangerous as Count Molsen.

“There’s also a rumor he’s gathered a battalion-sized private army outside the capital and stationed them there. So—what are you curious about?”

Krang asked after rattling it all off. Encrid must have come with a purpose.

Encrid had many questions, but what he truly wanted to know came down to one.

Most of the rest would be answered if he had this.

So he asked about the ones he expected—the ones who should have been here.

“Where are all the knights?”

If there was even one knight in the Royal Palace—

If they were at the Queen’s side—

Could a man like that, whether he was called Mernes or something else, really run rampant like this?

Assassins had issued a warning in broad daylight.

Beasts cried out at night, and strange stories spread through the capital every day.

If knights existed—if the Royal Guard were truly moving—none of this should be happening.

So it was the core question running through everything.