A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

The words just spoken by the King of Azpen also meant that he was accepting Crang's proposal.

The minor details would be handled by the officials, and although relationships could change later, for now, it was a good start.

And although no one could have predicted it, Crang had been aiming for exactly this situation from the beginning.

If the Empire, the South, and the Holy City-State were going to side with Azpen?

'Then wouldn't it be easier to just bring Azpen to my side?'

It was a far faster method than tearing those three groups apart one by one.

Of course, it could have failed.

If the King of Azpen were the biggest fool in the world, nothing could be done.

'But that's not possible.'

Judging by Azpen's stance so far, it was clear.

Despite various pressures, they had tried to assert their own will, something Crang could clearly see.

Moreover, the attitude the king showed now revealed his character.

The King of Azpen expressed his thanks, and Enkrid nodded and opened his mouth.

"Don't you think he's just a fraud who talks big?"

It was a joke, directed with a glance toward Crang. Everyone here, especially the people from Naurillia — even Andrew — knew that Enkrid enjoyed making jokes.

Of course, no one expected it in a situation like this.

"Isn't he a king and a close friend?"

The King of Azpen, slightly flustered for a moment, soon returned a calm answer.

"I feel like I've been fooled."

"Why do you think so?"

"He says he'll do it, but there's no plan. Just recklessly saying he will. What kind of irresponsible talk is that?"

At Enkrid's words, Crang, Jaxon, Shinar, and Andrew all stared at him.

"That's rich coming from you."

Crang couldn't help but cut in.

And who could blame him?

There was a man who was born with miserable talents yet declared he would become a knight.

There was no need to ask how that would turn out.

He had shown through his actions the path he chose.

To the point that a single day wasn't enough — he lived like a madman, never letting go of the sword in his hand even for a moment.

Save for eating and sleeping, he lived like a lunatic.

And that man talks about lacking a plan?

"Still, it will be fun."

Instead of replying to Crang, Enkrid turned to the King of Azpen and said.

Fun, he said.

For Argious, the King of Azpen, it was a distant concept.

But hearing those words now, his heart thundered.

It would be fun, he said.

Yes, it would be fun.

Born into royal blood, called a chosen one.

But had he ever really acted like one?

He had dreamed, but pursuing that dream was an obligation. He couldn't feel any joy in it. He only thought it was something he had to do.

Yet now, the aspiration spoken by the King of Naurillia stirred his heart, made the hairs on his body stand on end.

It felt like he had returned to the time when he first fell into the fever of love after meeting his first love.

Talking to this man called Enkrid had brought that about.

A state where new motivation surged recklessly inside him.

"When I return, I shall reject the offer to become a vassal state and proudly declare that I have secured part of Greenperl. Your reputation won't be damaged by this, will it?"

Argious asked, looking at Crang.

Crang gave Enkrid an exasperated look but soon returned to his usual expression and answered with a smile.

"Do I look that easy to you? It won't happen."

The two kings, without waiting for the other, reached out and clasped hands.

"If I die, all of this will be meaningless."

Said the King of Azpen.

"Don't die. Eat lots of good food and live long. And if it looks like you're going to get stabbed to death, at least try asking for help."

Crang fired back.

While the two kings exchanged words that could be either blessings or curses, Enkrid silently called over Frok.

The middle-aged woman and man from Azpen were busy whispering with their heads together. Overwhelmed by the atmosphere and crushed by Crang's charisma, they had been unable to say a single thing, feeling at a loss.

"Was it Abnaier?"

Enkrid asked.

"What about him?"

"Will he be executed for losing?"

There had been something Kraiss said before they came here.

"That's not your concern."

Frok answered respectfully. The other was someone deserving of respect, after all.

Honestly, among the quick-witted ones in Azpen, none dared speak rudely to the knight who had blocked their army.

Especially Frok, who still remembered how Enkrid had just let him go, had spoken directly to the king many times because of that.

Some of the heroic tales about Naurillia that spread through Azpen were spread by him personally.

It was a bit ridiculous, but some distant Naurillian nobles, having only heard the rumors, still thought the story of stopping an army was exaggerated — Enkrid's fame was actually higher in Azpen than it was in Naurillia.

It was said that an enemy you had faced personally was better understood for their true worth.

And that applied to how Enkrid now viewed this man Abnaier as well.

"Can I make a request as a condition of victory?"

Enkrid said, looking at Crang. Crang nodded. It meant he had the king's permission.

Everyone turned to look at Enkrid again.

Some with eyes wondering what absurd thing he was about to say now.

"Speak."

It was the King of Azpen who answered.

"I know that the man named Abnaier was the main instigator of this war. Once the two countries reach an agreement, we cannot leave such a villain unpunished, so I request that he be immediately extradited to Border Guard. I must hold him accountable."

Listening to Enkrid's words, Crang thought his tone was stiff and unfamiliar. After some thought, he realized — it was a memorized speech.

The middle-aged woman and the priest ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) belonging to the temple behind Argious frowned.

Abnaier had been imprisoned for the defeat and was likely going to be executed.

He was also a man they didn't want to save anyway. Always scheming for the king's benefit.

Before, they couldn't kill him because of Barnas, but now they definitely planned to cut him off.

Always talking about ways for the kingdom to stand alone, wasn't he?

The stiff tone was one thing, but since the content was completely opposite to the earlier conversation, his true intent was obvious.

You want to save him, right?

If you send him, I'll keep him alive.

That was what Enkrid was really saying.

And there wasn't a single person here who didn't understand that.

"What nonsense—"

The priest tried to intervene, but Argious raised his hand and stopped him.

"Let's do that. That man was a vicious warmonger who pushed for war by force."

That was false. Abnaier had been a moderate, not a warmonger.

But what did it matter now?

This was the magic Kraiss had worked.

"It's a long shot, but if Azpen doesn't sneak attack us, greets properly, and all, then depending on the situation, you demand custody of the enemy strategist. Why? You know why. If we leave him, he'll surely die. If Your Majesty wishes to embrace Azpen over the Empire, the Holy City, and the South, then it would be better to bring him. If chaos increases inside Azpen over responsibility and such, that man will surely die. If we save and keep him, the King of Azpen's position will become difficult, so it's better for us to take him."

They say a sage recognizes a sage.

Although Kraiss was no sage, he understood that the opposing commander was no ordinary man.

And he predicted the situation he was in — and if that wasn't the case, he calculated that the King of Azpen would refuse on his own.

More than anything, bringing Abnaier had two major benefits.

Enkrid understood that much.

First, without him, the most brilliant supreme commander of Azpen would be absent, making it difficult to start a new war.

Second, if he came to Border Guard and adapted well, over time, it could help soften the resentment between the two kingdoms.

It was enough just to bring him to Border Guard, feed him, give him drink, and let him sleep.

'Fascinating guy.'

Enkrid thought, marveling at how Kraiss could see several moves ahead while just sitting there.

Although, when Kraiss had seen Enkrid block the army, his eyes had widened as he asked,

"Is... is that even possible for a knight?"

From Kraiss's point of view, Enkrid was an even more fascinating person.

"Then."

That ended the meeting. The two kings returned the way they came. The moonlight still illuminated the ground, and the stars continued to shine beautifully.

It was as if the moon and stars had come out to dance at a ball held in the sky.

When Enkrid glanced out the window, he even saw a shooting star streak across the sky.

"Shinar Kirhais, does your duty still remain the same?"

Inside the returning carriage, Crang brought up a topic that Shinar didn't want to discuss.

Enkrid simply stared at the two of them. Shinar replied with her usual expressionless face.

"I have never forgotten my duty."

Enkrid didn't know it, but Shinar had been a great support to Crang even before he became king, and there was an oath between them.

Crang hadn't asked because he wanted to deny the words he had once spoken. Seeing Shinar up close, he just thought — does she really have to live this way? — and so he brought it up.

"I see."

"Yes, that's right."

Enkrid watched silently, then spoke.

"What is that duty?"

"It's not something a fiancé needs to know. A woman should have at least one secret to stay mysterious."

Speaking of mystery, wasn't she second only to Esther in Border Guard? With an otherworldly beauty, outstanding even among fairies, and always walking around with an expressionless face, her mystery had spread widely throughout the city.

"Something like a fairy's duty."

Crang answered instead. It wasn't much of an answer, but if she didn't want to talk, there was no point pressing it.

Enkrid, as usual, let it pass without much care.

The black carriage kept moving and returned to Border Guard, and only then did Andrew manage to relax a little.

"Phew, survived."

Though he was the master of the Gardener family and one of the major powers within the royalist faction, when serving a madman, all rank and status became meaningless.

And there was one more madman here.

"Your body seems stiff, want to spar?"

It was dawn before the sun had even risen. The time when most would rush to rest after returning, and yet he was suggesting a spar.

"Are you sane?"

Andrew answered, and Enkrid replied in a serious tone.

"If you rest and sleep like everyone else, when do you wield your sword?"

"I sleep first, then wield it after I wake up."

Even though Andrew was considered a training fanatic within his own family, there were limits.

Enkrid didn't bother those who clearly didn't want to. He had merely suggested working up a sweat because Andrew seemed stiff.

Thus, early the next morning, Crang summoned the forces from the city of Zaltemburg, one of the duchies under the Duke of Octo located beneath the capital, and returned.

Until Zaltemburg's guards arrived, Border Guard's escorts took over the protection, easing Andrew's burden.

"Then, see you at the royal palace."

At Crang's farewell, Enkrid nodded.

In about a month, after Border Guard's reorganization was completed, he would have to go to the palace. He was to be honored for his achievements in the recent battlefield.

After Crang left, the one who became busy was Kraiss.

"We can't start fights at the border, so we should at least set up something that looks like a wall."

Kraiss said and immediately began construction, raising a wall between Border Guard and Azpen. However, the wall's height barely reached the waist of an adult man.

"Is this supposed to count as a wall?"

The commander conscripted from Azpen's border guards asked, glancing at the scene. In front of him stood a Naurillian commander, standing just a little out of reach — not close enough to touch by hand, but maybe if he stretched a foot.

Shrugging, he answered.

"That's what they say."

It was a situation of pretending not to know what everyone knew. Trying to cover the sky with a palm, so to speak — and that was exactly the situation now.

If another country said anything, they would simply claim they had drawn a border, farming and living separately on their own land.

But once irrigation was set up in the farmland and a new settlement sprang up right next to it, what then?

Even if both sides opposed it, young men and women would eventually fall for each other, and in hard times, they would lend each other a hand.

Of course, all of this would take time, but with this meeting, both Naurillia and Azpen had bought themselves time.

Instead of the continent being engulfed by flames of war, despite the Empire, the South, and the Holy City scheming, Azpen, which should have become a puppet, had suddenly joined hands with Naurillia and pretended to be close.

Naturally, some viewed the situation unfavorably, but at the moment, there was no room to argue.

A few days later, a transport carriage carrying Abnaier crossed the border.

It was a prisoner transport, with bars, but inside there were soft blankets and food.

They had not treated him harshly.

Even after arriving at Border Guard, Abnaier's situation didn't change much.

Well, it changed a little.

Instead of a filthy, stinking prison, he was confined in a decent room.

Should he be grateful for surviving instead of dying for his responsibility in the war?

'What kind of man is he?'

Rather than feeling relieved, Abnaier quietly admired the path shown by the King of Naurillia, and grew increasingly curious about the face of the man who had smuggled him out.

Even from the flow of events alone, he could tell how brilliant the strategist who brought him was.

Two days after arriving at Border Guard, he heard two curt soldiers greeting someone outside the door.

"You've arrived?"

"He's inside."

There was a click as the latch, locked from the outside, was undone. Then he heard the guards exchanging a few more words.

"Why lock him up?"

"Isn't he a general from the enemy country? They said to imprison him."

"Leave it. If he's the kind of person who can break out of here alone, a latch wouldn't stop him anyway."

It was a young voice.

With a creaking sound of unlubricated hinges, the door opened.

Still sunk deep into the soft sofa, Abnaier only lifted his head.

And saw the owner of the voice.

A man with big eyes, looking about the age of a younger brother, entered the prison-room.

"Been well?"

That was his first meeting with the man who had, over and over again, manipulated his fate.

He wasn't alone. A woman with dark skin and a stunning appearance followed behind him.

"A bodyguard. I get a bit nervous thinking you might take me hostage if you fight better than me."

The big-eyed man rambled on, but Abnaier still didn't realize that this man was Border Guard's strategist.

Only later, when he found out, Abnaier couldn't hide the shake in his pupils.

"You were the strategist?"

"Ah, nothing grand. I was just anxious and tried this and that, and somehow it turned out like this."

The conversation was brief, but Kraiss's tone was consistently friendly.

Afterward, Kraiss, who identified himself as the strategist, said he had just come to see his face, and before leaving, he placed his hand on the doorknob and looked back.

"Planning to escape?"

"......I have nowhere to go."

Abnaier realized that this absurd question was a way to gauge his intentions. Clearly, this man was no pushover.

The two exchanged a faint laugh. Abnaier felt that a small trust or liking had formed between them.

Besides, he really had nowhere to go. Returning to his homeland would only mean death.

After Kraiss left the room, he strengthened the watch.

"He said he wouldn't run."

Nuratt asked about it.

"Yeah, he said that. But you never know, right?"

Kraiss, born with a paranoid anxiety, thought there was no need to trust the enemy just because extra troops were available.

The next day, Abnaier noticed the increase in the number of guards assigned to him and felt conflicted.

It was as if their conversation yesterday ended with, "You're not to be trusted."

But there was nothing to be done. That was simply Kraiss's way.

How could anyone easily trust a key figure of an enemy country?

No matter how the situation had turned out, for Kraiss, it was safer to lock him up and keep watch.

To completely erase his anxiety, Kraiss could have even shackled Abnaier's ankles, but he didn't go that far.

After all, Crang's words had to be respected — he had to consider the king's dignity too.

They couldn't treat him like an ordinary prisoner.

Though they had brought him over to improve relations between the two countries, Kraiss still thoroughly monitored him, and Abnaier simply endured it.

What choice did he have? There was nothing else he could do.