Chapter 62: A Knight Must Harbor No Shame in His Heart

“Wait here for a moment. I’ll send someone your way.”

Just because I had received permission didn’t mean I could leave immediately.

When I returned to our quarters, I saw my squad members, like baby birds waiting for their mother bird to return.

“Prepare yourselves.”

One word was all it took to convey the situation.

“Ah, I knew it! I believed in you! The squad leader pulled through!”

“Good job,”

Rem and Jaxson chimed in one by one, and the rest of the squad started moving as well. We’d need to at least grab our equipment.

“For now, just wait. Orders will come soon enough.”

“Let’s do that.”

No matter what was said, the atmosphere felt warm. Rarely had I seen the entire squad so united.

Thunk.

Even when Ragnar bumped into Rem while moving, both passed by without a word, no banter or biting comments exchanged.

“You sly alley cat, got a spare cloak? It’s filthy cold out here.”

Rem, in particular, hated the cold.

At his words, Jaxson shook his head. Normally, this would’ve sparked an immediate argument, but today, it passed without incident.

‘Everyone’s getting along, huh.’

How nice it would be if every day were like this—if they could just compromise like this all the time.

Of course, that was just wishful thinking.

Watching the squad busy themselves, I sat down on my bunk.

Soon, someone sent by the company commander arrived.

“What did you do to get your entire squad pulled for this operation?”

It was the 4th platoon leader, acting as the company commander’s messenger.

“We’re trying to track down an assassin’s trail. A thieves’ guild.”

“…Be careful. A dagger in the back can pierce even a knight’s armor. Thieves are dangerous people.”

The platoon leader offered his concern, lacing it with a long-standing proverb.

A dagger in the back.

There’s a tale of a general who once commanded the continent, only to die at the hand of a trusted subordinate’s dagger.

It’s an old legend, not quite history but not quite myth either.

Who knows if it’s even true?

Just as I was about to nod, indicating I understood—

“No, a knight can avoid it.”

Ragnar spoke.

“Even if you’re not a knight, you can avoid it.”

Jaxson agreed.

“If you get stabbed in the back without a fight, you’re just an idiot.”

Rem finished it off.

As soon as the platoon leader finished his sentence, the three of them responded in rapid succession.

“Let’s just drop it,”

The platoon leader shook his head and left.

At least the permission had been granted.

“Let’s go.”

I stood up as I spoke. The weather had gotten even colder than the day before, and our quarters felt like an icebox.

As for equipment, Rem only carried a hand axe.

Ragnar had the arming sword he’d swapped with me before.

Jaxson had a shortsword, or something that resembled one, and that was it.

Audin packed two short clubs soaked in oil and tucked them into his belt.

“Thievery is a bad thing, isn’t it? Let’s go teach them a lesson.”

Audin spoke as he stepped out, causing Rem to chuckle.

“That’s right. It’s bad.”

Though our gear was simple, Jaxson had layered himself with thick fur clothes, making him look clumsy.

Ragnar was wrapped in a cloak patched together with fabrics no beggar would want, full of holes.

But the prize among them all was Rem.

“You’re really going like that?”

It wasn’t surprising Jaxson’s attire was within acceptable limits, and I could even nod at Ragnar’s ridiculous patchwork if I were generous.

But Rem?

He had wrapped himself entirely in a blanket, like a walking bedroll. His arms weren’t even free. Only his toes stuck out.

“I hate the cold.”

Would he listen if I told him to change?

I decided on the most efficient course of action: I ignored him.

“Let’s go.”

The troublemaking squad headed straight for the marketplace.

“This is gonna get dangerous.”

Krys muttered to himself as he followed, deciding to brave the danger rather than stay back and shovel snow until his arms went numb.

It must mean he *really* hated shoveling snow.

—

After any fight, Encrid had a long habit of reviewing and reflecting on what had happened, a habit born of the need to survive.

This time was no different.

The half-breed elf had drawn attention with his Whistle Blade and Rotten.

‘A distraction.’

Simple, yet a powerful smokescreen.

His follow-up was to close the distance.

One move, a single decisive strike meant to end the fight.

For reasons unknown, the half-breed elf had an obsession with hearts.

This had allowed Encrid to predict the target of the attack. He’d also become familiar with the elf’s weapon from his repeated experiences today.

Everything had been calculated.

‘What if I’d failed?’

Encrid wondered.

‘Was I relying on luck?’

The half-breed elf could have deviated from the plan.

For things to go according to Encrid’s calculations, there had to have been an element of luck.

He questioned himself.

On the first “today,” when he’d killed that twisted bastard who favored stabs, Encrid had relied on his best thrust as his weapon.

He hadn’t thought ahead, gambling his life in a desperate move.

Reflecting on that moment, he had to ask himself whether he’d made the same mistake.

This time, he hadn’t.

‘Even if I’d used a different move…’

He was sure he still would have won.

Not only had he dominated the elf in close-quarters combat, but he had also overwhelmed him with skill. Even if Rotten had remained to fight from behind…

‘I still had the upper hand.’

Of course, winning cleanly and without injury, as he had this time, would’ve been harder.

He replayed it in his mind, over and over, adapting the scenario to different situations as he walked.

The patrolling soldier who found Encrid was surprised twice.

First, at the sight of the corpses, and second, at seeing a squad leader who had suddenly risen to the level of an elite soldier.

Though technically a squad leader…

How many regular soldiers possessed skills like these?

Especially considering Encrid’s lackluster performance before this battle.

The conclusion was clear: no one could deny he was no longer scraping the bottom in terms of swordsmanship.

Even so, Encrid mused,

‘There might have been an easier way.’

This was a mindset hard to believe from someone living through repeated days.

But maybe this mindset was why he kept meeting tomorrow, again and again.

As his thoughts unraveled, Encrid recalled the dream from the previous night.

‘Is it because I have nothing else to do?’

No matter how he looked at it, it was an incomprehensible existence.

The ferryman of the Black River.

The ferryman, who had appeared in his dream, had not mocked him as before. He’d simply stared, muttering one thing:

“What are you?”

A voice from one without a mouth. The emotion carried through clearly.

No, it wasn’t that the ferryman wanted to convey it. Encrid instinctively felt that way.

The emotion contained in that one question was curiosity.

Not a trace of disappointment or anger, just pure curiosity.

Encrid couldn’t give a reply.

It was, after all, just a dream.

Though not an ordinary dream, of course.

“Squad Leader.”

Had he been lost in thought for too long? Someone grabbed his arm and called out to him, forcing him to stop walking.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

He hadn’t caught what had been said to him just now.

“I said if you go in with that mindset, you’ll be an easy mark for the thieves.”

It was Rem. Though it wasn’t a long statement, the real irony was that Rem, wrapped up like a cocoon in his blanket, looked like the one who’d get stabbed first.

Ignoring Rem, Jaxson spoke up.

“Do you have a plan?”

A plan? What plan?

For a moment, the same curiosity the ferryman had shown flashed through Encrid’s eyes.

“Are we just going to ask around aimlessly and barge into the thieves’ guild? Do you even know where their headquarters are?”

Jaxson asked, crossing his arms. His thick clothes made his elbows poke out awkwardly, but he remained unbothered by it.

These people—they were pickpockets, slavers, and more. They did every sort of despicable thing.

The guild was called “Gilpin.”

The name simply meant that the organization was led by Gilpin.

People called it a thieves’ guild, but in reality, it was just a criminal syndicate.

Would they openly reveal their headquarters?

Of course not. Like vermin clinging to the shadows of the city’s back alleys, they hid themselves well.

“I don’t know.”

“Then I suggest we come up with a plan.”

“You really came out here with no idea at all?”

Rem joined in with his own question.

Ragnar, meanwhile, wasn’t joining the conversation. He just kept breathing out cold air while staring at the sky.

Audin merely smiled as usual.

“You really had no plan?”

Krys asked, his large eyes fixed on Encrid.

“I thought you would know where their headquarters was.”

“How could I know something like that? If I tried to find out, they’d slit my throat the moment I got close.”

Krys made a motion with his hand like his throat was being cut.

Would a criminal guild really kill a regular soldier? Were they that dangerous? Surely they weren’t that powerful.

Honestly, I hadn’t cared enough to look into it. I didn’t have the time or energy to worry about such things.

“Have you never done a small-scale operation before?”

Jaxson pressed further. He seemed to be criticizing the fact that the squad was moving without a real plan.

And he wasn’t wrong.

What kind of life had I lived up to now?

I’d been too busy desperately trying to survive.

I’d spent my days sacrificing sleep for an extra swing of the sword.

There had been no time to learn tactics.

Sure, I had experience as a mercenary.

I’d served as a squad leader.

I’d also participated in small operations many times before.

But small operations in the field, like leading a recon squad, were entirely different from this situation.

And besides…

‘That was different.’

Those were strategies born out of a need to survive, not the result of careful planning.

Everything I knew was learned at the cost of lives.

Should I do the same this time?

Throw away my life again and let today repeat?

I stopped walking. The freezing wind pierced through the cloak wrapped around me and brushed my side.

It was bitterly cold.

‘I don’t want to.’

I didn’t want to use the repeating of today as a tactic. The pain of death wasn’t something I was eager to face.

More than that, my instincts told me I didn’t have to.

So, what should I do?

I hadn’t come without a single thought. I had considered the standard approach.

“Shouldn’t we just ask around? No matter how well they hide, the locals will know.”

There are no real secrets in the world. A secret only becomes complete with death.

Once the sole person who knows it dies, no one else can find it out.

A criminal syndicate can’t completely hide itself.

So the conclusion was simple: there were people who knew.

“That won’t work. Gilpin’s crew is infamous for severing ties and using fear to control everyone. Even if you catch one of their lower ranks and squeeze them, they’ll know nothing. And if they accidentally spill something, Gilpin will break every bone in their body and cut out their tongue.”

Fear and retribution maintained their rule.

Then how?

No immediate solution came to mind.

When it came to desperate survival tactics, I could think of a hundred ways.

If this were a battlefield, I knew how to hold my position according to the flow of the fight.

But this wasn’t a battlefield.

“Squad leader, give the order.”

Lost in thought, I heard Ragnar speak, his gaze fixed on the sky.

My eyes turned to Ragnar.

With a sword in hand, there were few who could match him. A prodigy in swordsmanship.

At least, that’s how I saw him.

But Ragnar, in his day-to-day life, was lazy and unreliable.

He constantly got lost and dropped whatever he had in his pockets.

But sometimes—rarely, but sometimes—he could grasp the heart of a matter and cut straight to the core.

Just like when he held a sword.

“A leader gives orders. Then, those who know how to carry them out will handle the details.”

That one statement.

Ragnar’s soft-spoken words held immense weight for Encrid.

He said *leader*.

That was indeed my role.

Squad leader—the one who leads the squad.

But had I truly been leading the squad up until now?

‘Have I really been a squad leader?’

No. With my lack of skill and constant struggle for survival, it was hard to be the leader of such a talented group.

But Ragnar’s single remark changed the situation.

“He’s right.”

Rem acknowledged it.

Jaxson subtly nodded.

“That’s right, brother. A leader does exactly that.”

Audin chimed in with agreement.

“It’s true, but why is everyone making a big deal out of it?”

Only Krys seemed out of sync with the mood.

But that’s because, in his heart, he had already accepted Encrid as the squad leader.

“That’s right. Jaxson, you have a plan, don’t you?”

Jaxson, the master of equivalent exchange, also traded in information.

While Krys’s information was broad but shallow, Jaxson’s was narrow but deep.

“I do.”

“Tell me.”

“Book an inn in the market and wait there. I’ll be back before sunset.”

Instead of explaining his plan, he was asking to be excused.

“You’re going to leave to gather information?”

“Leave it to me. I’ll bring it back.”

“Alright. Let’s go book an inn.”

Once the decision was made, there was no looking back. I followed through.

On the way to the inn, still walking through the outskirts of the market where few people roamed, I finally shared my thoughts.

“We’ll find the guild’s headquarters and wipe them out in one blow.”

The enemy was a criminal organization. Even if they weren’t directly guilty of any crime, taking them down with force wouldn’t raise any questions.

Sure, the nobles or our battalion commander might lose some income, but…

‘What does that matter?’

A knight must harbor no shame in his heart.

Just as I was taught when I was young, watching, hearing, learning, and dreaming.

That’s how I’ve lived.

And that’s how I’ll continue to live.