Eternally Regressing Knight - Chapter 49: Madness, Passion, Greed, and Desire
“We won.”
“We fucking won!”
“You Azpen bastards!”
Victory brought cheers.
Cheers brought heat.
Heat brought madness.
The intense energy fueled by this chain reaction swept across the entire battlefield.
When is the greatest thrill in battle achieved?
When chasing down a fleeing enemy. Naurilia bit down hard on Azpen’s tail, tearing it to pieces.
“Uwoooo!”
The joy of victory swept over the allies more than the mourning of the dead.
It was only natural that traces of madness were visible.
Just a few days ago, they had been on the verge of annihilation. The fear of death brought by the mist was still etched deep in their hearts.
And now, standing on the battlefield with that fear, they had achieved an overwhelming victory.
“Long live the Red Cloak Order!”
“Long live Naurilia!”
The squire had not revealed his name.
In place of the unknown squire, the name of the knightly order was exalted.
“Long live the Red Cloak Order!”
The cheers, the heat, the madness.
At the forefront of the battlefield, the one receiving all this adulation was at the center.
Fwoosh.
The squire, with his iconic red cloak billowing, raised a hand in response to the cheers.
“Uwooo!”
Some of the soldiers, intoxicated by the thrill of victory, were crying tears of joy.
Everyone was cheering. They were drunk on madness. Watching them, Encrid quietly muttered to himself.
“I want to…”
No one heard his words, but within them lay his long-held dream.
The madness and fervor spread, causing Encrid’s heart to beat faster.
The end of the battle, the last night on the battlefield.
Many lives had been lost, but Encrid felt a sense of exhilaration.
He remembered the words of the swordsmanship instructor from the capital city, who had three missing fingers.
“A guy with no talent still working as a sword-for-hire? He’s one of two kinds. Either he enjoys the battlefield, or he enjoys killing. Oh, maybe there’s a third kind—those who just live without thinking.”
‘I think I’m the type who enjoys the battlefield.’
He was envious of the cheers. He also had a desire to stand at the front. He wanted more than just to swing his sword; he wanted to tear through the battlefield.
The reason he honed his martial skills wasn’t solely because he was obsessed with the sword.
Encrid reflected on what he had done in this battle.
All he did was struggle to survive.
In the end, he tore down the flag and broke the spell’s medium, earning some credit.
‘But that was also just a desperate act to survive.’
The sudden surge of exhilaration masked his dream, but it also stirred up the greed and desire he had long forgotten due to his lack of talent.
‘A knight.’
He would become one. He was determined to make it happen.
This was the moment he reaffirmed his commitment.
“Man, it’s noisy as hell,” Rem said, picking at his ear as he wandered the battlefield without a care.
He didn’t seem to enjoy the battlefield or killing. There was no sign of exhilaration.
Next to him, Ragna yawned.
“Haah, isn’t it over now? Can’t we head back tonight?”
Yeah, as if they’d head back tonight. This guy must be one of those who don’t think too much.
Jaxson was already wiping down his sword blade with leather. He was already tending to his weapon.
Though he didn’t say much or show it outwardly, what kind of person was Jaxson? Did he enjoy anything?
Who knows? He was a master at hiding his true self.
“Wow, the battle just ended like that. If we turn this into a story or a song, would it sell?” Big Eyes wondered aloud.
“Do you know how to write songs, Brother?” the squad’s religious zealot asked.
“No, I’d have to get another bard to do it.”
“Creating a song about something you didn’t experience is deceit.”
“Deceit? That’s a bold claim. It’s not like that, Audin.”
It was a conversation between Big Eyes, who was always looking to capitalize on anything, and the enigmatic, devout member of the squad.
On the day Encrid tore down the spell’s medium, he had heard that the devout squad member’s entire body was soaked in blood, as if he had bathed in it.
It meant he fought with brutal intensity.
Though he seemed quiet and serene, he possessed immense power.
Why he stood on the battlefield remained a mystery.
Thoughts began to cascade, and Encrid imagined his squadmates in his position.
‘If it had been Rem…’
He wouldn’t have stopped at tearing down the flag.
Even if it were Ragna, Jaxson, or the devout squad member, any of them would have fought better than he did.
‘Next time, more.’
As the exhilaration of the battlefield squeezed his heart, the resulting reaction was the blossoming of desire within Encrid’s chest.
On the night after the battle ended, the command released alcohol and food.
Salted rabbit and venison were served, along with strong liquor in large oak barrels.
“Alcohol, booze!”
Rem and Ragna went wild at the sight of alcohol.
“I only drink wine,” the devout squad member declined the strong liquor, and Jaxson didn’t touch alcohol at all.
“I prefer women to alcohol.”
He was the kind of guy who said things like that without hesitation. Yet, women still flocked to him. Why was that?
‘Must be his looks.’
Encrid also found that women often came to him without any effort on his part. It was thanks to his looks.
Plus, his well-trained, muscular body was a weapon that could captivate any woman.
“This is cheap liquor. I’m not drinking it,” Big Eyes sniffed, turning up his nose.
As the night deepened, the battalion commander entered the barracks.
“444th Squad Leader?”
Hearing his call, Encrid got up.
The heat had started to cool down, and everyone was preparing to sleep.
Because of his injury, Encrid hadn’t touched the alcohol. Fortunately, this meant he recognized the battalion commander.
“A wounded soldier drinking? A cripple drinking? Drinking when you’re injured?”
Rem mocked him.
“It’s better to refrain. You should recover first,” Jaxson advised.
Ragna silently shook his head.
Big Eyes chuckled at Encrid’s situation.
These squad members were truly crazy.
When Encrid went outside at the battalion commander’s call, the commander waved away the salute, reeking of alcohol.
“So, the flag was the medium for the spell? And you’re the one who tore it down.”
It sounded like he had found the person responsible for breaking the spell on this battlefield.
Crackle, crackle.
The fire they had lit sent sparks flying into the air.
“Yes,” Encrid replied calmly.
“There will be a reward when we return. Good job.”
The battalion commander patted Encrid on the shoulder. This was a significant moment.
It was the first time since becoming squad leader that Encrid had spoken directly to the battalion commander.
That’s how significant Encrid’s actions had been.
He had changed the course of the battle.
But only a few people knew about it.
To be precise, only the command knew.
Most likely, the credit for overcoming the spell in this battle would go to the command.
He wasn’t disappointed.
In return, his reward would be substantial.
‘I’m not upset about it.’
Normally, since he was the one who did it, he should have claimed the credit.
‘It was a desperate act.’
Seeing the knight—no, just the squire—had changed his perspective a lot.
He felt he had gained more than this small accomplishment.
“You’ve got potential,” the battalion commander said, patting his shoulder again before turning to leave. As Encrid was about to head back into the barracks, he heard a light tapping on the ground.
“What is it?”
When he turned towards the sound, he saw emerald-like eyes. In the dark of night, they were somewhat eerie, like a ghost.
An unearthly beauty.
It was the Elven company commander.
“They won’t give you a shabby reward for tearing down the flag.”
If that was all she had to say, she turned around. As she was about to leave, she stopped and turned her head slightly.
“Aren’t you going to salute?”
When Encrid belatedly made a gesture as if pressing down on a weapon with his left hand, the Elven company commander waved it off.
“Forget it. I’m going.”
What kind of elf was that?
After the company commander left and he entered the barracks, Rem was lying on his side, propping his head up with his arm.
“Don’t go abandoning me just because you’ve become popular, squad leader.”
“Are you drunk?”
“No, I’m not.”
It was just a joke. The night was deep. Encrid closed his eyes and reflected on what he had seen and felt from the squire.
There was much to do once his body healed.
* * *
After waking up, the Naurilian infantry battalion headed toward Border Guard.
After four days of marching, they were finally able to see the walls of the fortress city of Border Guard.
It was a city with long walls built on a basin higher than the surrounding areas and three large watchtowers standing tall.
This was the last bastion defending against the Duchy of Azpen.
The fortress at the frontier, Border Guard.
* * *
The appearance of the Red Cloak Order’s squire could change the course of the battlefield.
Until now, the skirmishes on the Green Pearl Plains had been kept small in scale because of an unspoken agreement not to deploy knightly forces there.
In such a situation, the Kingdom of Naurilia played its trump card by deploying the squire.
Naurilia had broken the unspoken rule.
Even though the one who entered the battlefield was transitioning from a squire to a quasi-knight, crossing the line was still crossing the line.
“Those damn bastards!”
The King of Azpen erupted in anger. His eyes were bloodshot, and veins bulged on his forehead.
“Deploy ours too!”
They couldn’t deploy them just because the King demanded it.
It was winter.
Starting a war in winter would cause both nations to suffer severe declines in national power.
If a full-scale war was anticipated rather than a skirmish, it was necessary to consolidate strength on a national level.
Above all, Azpen’s main force was currently absent due to some undisclosed matter.
Azpen needed time to prepare for a proper fight.
At the end of a war, even if the enemy was so furious that their heads were about to explode like a volcano, if winter was approaching, they had to hold back.
Naurilia likely anticipated this and deployed their forces toward the end of the war.
Conversely, Azpen also read the timing of winter’s approach and deployed their sorcerers.
However, while their prepared blade was blocked, the dagger prepared by the enemy had sunk deep into their arm. It hurt. If not careful, they might not be able to use one arm.
“At least put diplomatic pressure on them. Sending a knightly member to the battlefield is definitely an issue.”
The King of Azpen, known for his martial tendencies, couldn’t just let it go and fumed with anger. Though he wasn’t shouting loudly, his voice carried a simmering rage, like boiling water.
The Duchy of Azpen was a nation centered around three families.
King Azpen.
The military power of Huire.
And the administration and governance of Eckins.
Diplomacy was handled by the Eckins family.
The Minister of Eckins was in a bind.
It was because of the letter sent from Naurilia.
The letter had arrived around the same time the Red Cloak Order member was deployed, suggesting that Naurilia had perfectly prepared their excuse.
The letter stated that a Froc general from Azpen had appeared in enemy territory, and they sent the member to counter that.
The reason was plausible. It was too appropriate.
Why did that Froc general have to go there, of all places?
Frocs are, by nature, unpredictable beings. Problems like this could arise as soon as they were put into a soldier’s uniform.
‘Even if it wasn’t the general, they would have come up with another excuse.’
Eckins wasn’t a fool.
Naurilia wouldn’t have sent a knightly member impulsively.
The Froc general was a convenient excuse, but even without him, Naurilia would have covered it up with a plausible reason.
In short, Azpen was caught and ended up on the losing side.
The root of all this was the failure of the spell.
If the annihilation mist had succeeded, unless a true knight had arrived, the long-drawn-out skirmishes on the Green Pearl Plains would have been a decisive victory for Azpen.
Eckins recalled the report stating that a single enemy soldier had ruined the spell.
‘Are they blaming a single enemy soldier because they failed to secure the perimeter?’
Does that even make sense?
Everyone involved in this mess would have to take responsibility.
The sorcerer had been found dead after retreating.
It seemed like some passing bandits had done it; they had sliced the sorcerer and his escorts clean in half.
‘Nothing is going right. Nothing.’
“Are we just going to let this slide?!”
The King shouted, forgetting his composure.
The masterstroke planned by Eckins in the autumn had backfired.
The skirmish battleground was now ending with Azpen’s defeat.
* * *
Ten days later, Encrid felt that his body had fully recovered.
So, as soon as he got up, Encrid went straight to find Rem.
“Rem.”
“What’s up?”
Rem had just returned from sentry duty and stood in front of Encrid.
“Let’s have a bout.”
“What?”
“A spar.”
“…Didn’t you just get better?”
What does that matter?
Right now, he was itching to fight.
Encrid said it with his expression. If that was a skill, it was certainly a talent.
Conveying his intention with just his eyebrows and the corners of his mouth.
“Alright, let’s do it. If you want to, you should. Let’s see you get beaten up again.”
“Come at me, you arrogant foreigner.”
“Oh, do you want to break a leg this time?”
Rem responded to Encrid’s taunt with a grin. The two of them soon stepped outside the barracks.
Watching them, Ragna agreed with at least one thing Rem said, even if he didn’t know about the rest.
Of all the crazy people he had seen, the squad leader was the craziest.
Despite having no talent, he jumped up and challenged others to fight the moment he got up.
Not even thirty minutes later, Encrid opened the barracks door again.
“Ragna, come out. I’ll wash away your laziness.”
The squad leader was in high spirits. Even though he was bleeding slightly from one side of his head, with a scab forming near his temple, he looked cheerful.
“Yes, yes, let’s do it.”
Ragna didn’t waste his energy on pointless arguments. He figured a few bouts would suffice.
This was their everyday life.