Chapter 417

“Even if you’re busy, you have to do what needs to be done.”

Encrid didn’t think seeing him off was something that truly needed doing, but he couldn’t just tell the other man—who was saying that with a straight face—that it was fine and he should go back.

More than anything, ‘it is nice to see him, though.’

Of course, Krang wasn’t alone. No matter how routinely they dealt with fiends and magical beasts across the kingdom, danger was always there.

Matthew, Squire Roford, and the trident-wielding guard he’d met before were all present.

And there were five more warriors drawn from the Royal Guard.

They gave Encrid a small nod when they saw him.

Courtesy for the hero who saved the nation. Encrid returned it with a quick tilt of his head.

For an escort, the number was small, but it probably wasn’t the whole of it.

If something went wrong, it was standard practice to keep a unit nearby that could rush in immediately.

‘Marcus would probably do that.’

As he was thinking it, Matthew stepped up and asked.

“Are you leaving now?”

From the first time they met to now, Matthew’s view of him had changed completely.

At first, he’d seen him as an unbearably arrogant bastard. Now, if anyone asked who saved this country, he would say the name of the man standing in front of him without hesitation.

‘Apologies to my lord.’

It hadn’t been Krang who led the civil war to victory, but Encrid—the Demon Slayer.

Come to think of it, Krang would probably nod and acknowledge it.

“Ah. Did you want me to stay?”

Encrid’s hand settled on his sword hilt.

Matthew had been about to say it might be better if he stayed, that there would be more he could do for his lord going forward.

But Encrid suddenly moved like he was about to attack.

“Come at me. You shouldn’t feel regretful.”

‘Ah, that crazy bastard.’

Encrid genuinely seemed to think Matthew had come because he regretted Encrid leaving.

Pell, standing behind him, shook his head.

‘A sword-obsessed lunatic. A sparring enthusiast. There’s not a single ordinary thing about him.’

And that was exactly why he was worth following.

Pell was here because he didn’t want the path he walked to become ordinary.

“I’m not fully recovered yet.”

Matthew answered. The injury he’d taken earlier had been close to a serious wound.

Encrid and his group were the strange ones.

They’d broken through the Wraiths. If they’d all ended up bedridden for a month, that would have been normal.

‘But they got up after a few days and started sparring?’

That was abnormal.

Matthew was normal.

“I wish to follow you, sir. I came here to ask for that permission.”

It was Squire Roford. His manner was extremely polite.

Encrid knew he was a squire of the Red Cloak Order.

“Weren’t you attached to the knights?”

“Senior Aisia processed it as a long-term assignment. I was fine with leaving the knights anyway.”

Roford’s face was set with resolve as he looked at the man who had changed his outlook on life.

It was a conclusion he’d reached after long thought.

‘I will learn the sword—no, life—at this man’s side.’

Having overcome his indecisive nature, Roford had become bold to the point of recklessness.

That wasn’t Encrid’s concern.

“Take him with you. He’s looking at you like that.”

Krang cut in, and Encrid nodded.

“Alright, I guess.”

Roford bowed deeply, moved enough that he looked like he might swear an oath of loyalty on the spot.

That itself would be trouble.

An oath of loyalty to someone else right in front of Krang would be beyond ridiculous.

A squire swearing loyalty not to a knight but to a provincial company commander was bordering on treason.

Of course, even if Krang saw it, he wouldn’t have cared.

“I heard Sinar left first?”

Krang asked. Even if there was some connection there, he’d been too busy to seek her out separately.

“She said she had somewhere to stop by.”

She said she had to deliver news about the elf she killed.

Encrid answered with what he’d heard and seen. Less than a day after the battle ended, he’d watched her leave while applying ointment to her thigh wound and wrapping it tight with bandages.

Krang hadn’t changed after becoming King. Encrid was the same.

The two traveled together for three days.

With the carriage loaded down, there wasn’t much else to do.

Krang watched Encrid spar for three straight days.

To anyone who didn’t know, it would’ve looked like they were trying to kill each other, but they called it sparring.

Watching, Matthew’s shoulders twitched again and again. That was how dangerous the techniques were, how many dizzying near-misses followed.

And when he wasn’t sparring, Encrid swung his sword without fail during every break.

Even sitting in the carriage, he did something like hand-edge sparring. When asked what it was, he said it was simplified sparring.

Krang smiled faintly.

‘Consistently a madman.’

There was also the incident with bandits.

A terribly unlucky event. For this to happen, the bandits must have spat on the statue of the Goddess of Luck.

“Hey, hand over everything you’ve got and scram, and we’ll let you live.”

There were even a few wearing swords, and despite Rem looking menacing and Audin standing there like a wall, a bandit still stepped forward.

At this point, it felt less like bad luck and more like a problem with the bandit’s intelligence.

Or maybe he had immense faith in the crossbows behind him.

Public order had been a mess even before the civil war. Now it was even worse.

Krang didn’t sigh at the sight. He’d seen it countless times while roaming the continent.

“Hey, you have to prove you’re useful too, right? You think we’ll just take anyone who follows along?”

Rem egged Pell on.

Hearing that, Encrid wondered since when the Border Guards had cared about such things when taking people in.

There were more than thirty bandits.

They were fairly well-known in the area as the White Hood Bandit Group.

“We are the White Hood—”

Pell was a shepherd, and a shepherd didn’t forgive uninvited guests who crossed his fence.

He answered like a shepherd.

Before the words even finished, he brought his scabbard down on the bandit’s head.

Light footwork, and a precise strike to the crown.

Thwack!

“Crack!”

Out of the thirty, five had crossbows, and some showed skill with thrown daggers, but the difference in ability was too great from the start.

Even Squire Roford could’ve handled it alone, though he would’ve struggled a bit.

Pell was a cut above Roford. That had been true since the night he first met Encrid, and it was still true now.

‘No, more than back then.’

Encrid gauged Pell with his eyes. Since awakening the Eyes That See an Inch Ahead, his vision had broadened, and his discernment had sharpened with it.

‘He’s grown.’

Not moderately. A lot.

Ruagarne would have had something to say if she’d seen it.

Pell’s hands didn’t hesitate. Even with a scabbard, few who were struck got back up.

At minimum, it was a fracture.

‘Ruagarne would find it interesting if she saw.’

Before leaving, Encrid had tried to visit her at least once, but he’d heard she’d left with the Queen.

It must have been because of Frok’s covenant. Still, it was disappointing not to have seen her face.

“Is that sufficient?”

Pell asked, the skill on display not matching his youthful face.

Rem nodded.

“Pass.”

“…No, I’m not taking a test from you. What do you mean, ‘pass’?”

Pell grumbled, but his expression looked faintly pleased.

Why wouldn’t it?

Among the shepherds, he was often scolded for being the only one who used a sword.

Here, everyone watched him—and even nodded.

And these were people with outstanding skill.

“We need to deal with those guys first. Any good ideas?”

Krang asked, looking at the bandits—half dead, half fleeing.

It was a headache-inducing public order issue.

He spoke broadly, but Encrid understood and answered.

“Do you think asking me will get you an answer?”

Naurilia had plenty of holes in its internal security. Part of it was Count Molsen, but there were other reasons too.

That was why, after the Black Blade Bandits, bastards like these kept cropping up.

Some “bandits” were even spies sent from other countries.

And it wasn’t just bandits.

Cultists, magical beasts, and fiends as well.

Krang had no shortage of headaches.

Yet he smiled.

It was the moment he’d wanted, and what he’d wanted.

So he smiled. What else could he do?

Thus, the three-day send-off ended.

It wasn’t because Encrid was the national salvation hero that the King stepped forward.

Krang came because he was a friend.

“See you again.”

“Yeah.”

They parted with a simple farewell.

Encrid had thought again that the escort was small, but they weren’t the only ones.

Jaxson had told him on the first day that troops were following behind.

The King’s escort was moving in full force.

As Encrid walked, he saw traces of troops stationed along the way.

Traces of Krys moving soldiers.

And that wasn’t the end.

As they drew closer to the Border Guards, a large outpost built in the middle of the highway came into view.

It was outfitted for both offense and defense—watchtowers on all sides for archers, stone walls, even an iron-banded gate.

It wasn’t small, either.

There was space for at least twenty soldiers to stay.

Not a roughly thrown-together hut, but a proper brick building.

You could tell someone skilled in construction had done the work.

“What is this?”

“Hoho. After you left, Big Eyes brother did this and that.”

Audin answered.

Krys?

As Encrid approached the outpost, an archer on watch blew a short, sharp note on a horn.

A group of soldiers filed out in front of the outpost.

“Company Commander of the Madman Company?”

It was Vell.

The soldier whose life Encrid had saved at the first beacon fire—now a squad leader.

“Returning?”

“Yeah.”

Seeing the group behind Encrid, Vell nodded.

“Independent Combat Company returning!”

At the shout, the soldier on the watchtower put away his bow, snapped to attention, placed a hand on the shortsword at his waist, and bowed his head in a salute.

“Right.”

Encrid saw three more identical outposts after that.

‘The spacing.’

It was regular.

And the benefit?

Control over nearby bandits and fiends.

And that wasn’t all.

The Border Guards were a city that had taken turns receiving every kind of attack.

On each outpost roof, they’d installed a beacon fire that could be lit at any time.

A form where smoke rose from above the roof—so long as it wasn’t raining, it worked as communication.

And having a beacon fire meant they were the foremost scouts.

Instead of running around on foot, they’d turned it into a duty rotation, effectively preventing bandits, magical beasts, or fiends from even setting foot in certain areas.

If it continued like this, even magical beasts and fiends wouldn’t invade this side as readily.

Once they recognized it as dangerous territory, they wouldn’t attack.

‘If the soldiers accepted this because…’

First would be the relatively high, stable supply.

Second, they likely knew it wasn’t that dangerous—because large-scale subjugations had minimized the risk.

Originally, construction itself would have been a uniformly troublesome undertaking.

‘But the Border Guards earn Krong like crazy.’

And the timing had been good.

The surrounding bandits and fiends had been wiped out.

After so many attacks on the Border Guards, there was no one left to attack for the time being.

Krys used that.

High pay was only an additional factor.

Using the timing was probably the most important part.

‘So there was an answer.’

Encrid remembered Krang’s question.

A way to deal with bandit groups and fiend hordes.

First, large-scale subjugation was necessary, but—

‘Since half of the Count’s soldiers became part of the Royal Army because of this incident…’

They could fight fiends while training and establishing discipline, and wipe out bandit groups in the process.

They’d atone for rebellion through it and earn praise at the same time.

Two birds with one stone.

Thus, they returned while receiving salutes from outposts.

At the last outpost, the beacon fire was lit.

Smoke rose high, announcing Encrid’s return.

“He built all sorts of things, that Big Eyes bastard.”

Even Rem sounded almost admiring.

He remembered the time Krys had asked about the tribe’s methods of communication.

Back then, he’d told him about the heated-stone method, and Krys had built this beacon tower.

Was it something anyone could think of?

Maybe.

But if you didn’t put it into practice, it meant nothing.

Krys was someone who could coordinate it all and make it happen.

“You’re here?”

In front of the Border Guards’ castle gate, Krys waved.

And beside him—

“You’re late, fiancé.”

The Elf Commander who had rushed in like the wind, fought, then immediately left the battlefield.

“You’re late.”

Frok Ruagarne was there too.

They said she left with the Queen, so why was Ruagarne here?

Finally, the battalion commander and lord of the castle came out.

He approached until he was right in front of Encrid, knelt on one knee, and spoke.

“I greet the General.”

Encrid blinked.

“What general?”

Rem asked as well.

Ragna looked at Encrid.

Audin wore a curious expression.

Only Jaxson stayed expressionless, lost in his own thoughts.

“Hmm. You didn’t hear?”

The battalion commander—who used to speak casually—asked politely.

Encrid shook his head.

It was Krang’s doing.

He’d given Encrid a medal, but was he going to send him off without proper compensation?

A national salvation hero.

His only close friend.

Krang wasn’t that kind of man.

He’d sent a messenger ahead before Encrid reached the Border Guards.

“From Count Molsen’s territory to the Border Guards, including Martai, five cities in total and their surrounding lands are designated as royal direct territories, and a General is appointed to govern the region. His name is Encrid.”

Everyone stood dumbfounded.

Only Krys understood.

Without even giving him a title, Krang had placed all the land where Krong would pour in into Encrid’s hands.

If he told him to accept it, Encrid would be indifferent anyway, so he’d simply thrown it at him.