A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Why is the Mad Knight Order called 'Mad'?

A man who was a peddler and merchant tossed out the question, and his companion immediately answered.

"That's because there really are some crazy ones among them."

"Is it okay to talk about that so openly?"

"Well, it's already spread everywhere anyway."

At the entrance of the marketplace, which was starting to fill with people, two peddlers were chatting.

Among them, the one with thinner lips and a looser tongue was doing most of the talking.

Judging by the content alone, they might have seemed like half-crazed fools, but in truth, what spilled from their mouths wasn't some great secret. It was all information that had already spread far and wide.

Besides, when the subject isn't even around, isn't it human nature to badmouth even a king behind his back?

"Could I hear more about that?"

Suddenly, a new voice chimed in. The merchant, startled, hunched his shoulders, then frowned as he turned toward the owner of the voice.

An old man with white hair, blind, stooped over, and covered in wrinkles, stood there, leaning on a cane.

"What do you want?"

Having approached so soundlessly, the old man's sudden presence made the merchant flinch for a moment, but seeing his appearance, he relaxed his tense shoulders and asked again.

"I mean, why are you eavesdropping on other people's conversations... oh, I guess you can."

He was mid-sentence when the old man handed over a silver coin, and the merchant immediately changed his tune.

"Well, it's gossip that everyone's talking about anyway..."

Muttering, the merchant looked at the old man.

Seeing the blind old man, he felt guilty at the idea of exploiting someone who probably had no one to rely on. So he vowed to explain everything he knew in as much detail as possible.

After all, if you've accepted payment, it's the true duty of a merchant to provide service worthy of it.

And so he did.

"Alright, listen closely. There are five madmen."

First, a madman who lost his parents to nobles when he was young and now cracks noble skulls open with an axe whenever he sees one.

"They say he has a vicious personality, so you should be careful if you run into him. If you see gray hair—no, wait, never mind."

The merchant quickly redirected his words. It wasn't something you said to a blind old man. After all, he wouldn't be able to see it.

The merchant, mixing rumors with facts, chattered away until his mouth dried up.

He was even more enthusiastic than before, trying to make up for his earlier slip.

There was a bear beastkin hybrid who could tear a person in half, a madman who told people to pray to the gods before ripping them apart.

A swordsman supposedly so mad for blood that he needed to drink it once every three days — the youngest of the Knight Order.

And finally, a perverted killer who, after being abandoned by a woman, found ecstasy in stabbing people in the back.

"But rumors are just rumors. When you actually talk to the people living in the city, they say it's all exaggerated."

In reality, they were a little rough, but they didn't go around killing people for fun.

"Still, it's better not to badmouth them around Border Guard. Nothing good will come from that. So don't go running your mouth everywhere."

The merchant figured he'd more than earned his silver coin.

Sure, anyone could find this out just by wandering around a bit, but getting it this directly wasn't so easy.

The old man didn't look like a beggar, but he didn't seem particularly wealthy either, and being blind, it was probably hard for him to pick up stories.

"You're a little wrong, though."

Just as they were about to part ways, a man with a rough look approached.

The merchant instinctively raised his hands defensively. The man looked like he might throw a punch at any moment.

But the man spoke without caring whether the merchant raised his hands or not.

"The axe madman? He's just a lunatic."

There was force behind his words. The kind of weight that couldn't come without firsthand experience, a raw emotion that seeped into every syllable.

It made each word he spoke feel heavy with meaning.

The old man, with cloudy eyes, swept his gaze over the newcomer. Though he couldn't see, his gaze still roughly aligned with the man.

The man placed both hands on the merchant's shoulders. The merchant flinched but didn't shake them off.

Heat radiated from the man's hands, seeping into the merchant's shoulders even through his thick clothes.

"Remember this. That guy's truly insane."

He was one of the infantry soldiers personally picked by Rem. Normally, he wouldn't have been allowed outside the barracks, but Rem was the kind of person who gave a little freedom when deserved.

The man had been granted a half-day's leave.

Of course, it was a privilege given only to those who excelled in training.

Naturally, desertion wasn't even a thought. Anyone who ran would face double punishment.

"Run? Go ahead. We'll catch you. Once you're caught, it's double."

Double what? Probably training.

If not that, then beatings.

Rem had said it without even a hint of a smile, and the so-called axe division soldier realized it then. He was seriously screwed.

Ah, life.

He could only enjoy his short leave to the fullest and return with the mindset of a death row inmate.

Hearing someone speaking in defense of that mad bastard, he couldn't hold back and had barged in. It was impossible to just let it go.

"Huuh."

The man withdrew his hands with a sigh and turned away.

"A madman damned by heaven."

He spoke and walked off. His steps looked strangely heavy.

Even though the man had already turned away, the merchant instinctively nodded.

"Not everyone seems to like them, huh?"

The old man asked slowly.

"Ah, he's probably a soldier. They say everyone's like that during the early stages of training."

The merchant passed on what he'd heard from a guard he was vaguely acquainted with.

The old man nodded a few times, then turned his head in another direction — where he happened to meet eyes with a man wearing a hood.

Their gaze seemed to cut through the air and brush against each other — the clouded eyes and the blue ones.

But the old man was blind.

The hooded man felt curious and asked,

"Can you see?"

"I can't."

"I see."

That was the extent of the exchange. Hardly a conversation.

The old man nodded a few more times, almost like a habit.

"Well then, we're busy."

The merchant left, and the old man started moving again, tapping his cane against the ground.

Even though Border Guard was the busiest city in recent times, he weaved through the bustling crowds with surprising ease.

The hooded man — Enkrid — watched the old man pass by for a moment.

He walks well.

Not many people recognized him, but if they did, it would only cause trouble. That's why he wore a cloak and hood whenever he came into the city.

Plenty of others dressed like that, so no one stared.

Still, the old man they'd just passed had felt like he made direct eye contact, even though he was blind.

A strange one indeed.

Even so, his presence was strangely faint. Looking at his body, there seemed to be traces of training, but then again, maybe not — a vague, ambiguous old man.

Either way, Enkrid had come out with a purpose. He was about to start walking again.

He intended to move once the strangely attention-grabbing old man was out of sight.

Rather than squeezing through the crowded streets, it seemed better to take a slightly longer but quieter path.

Originally, he had planned to pass through the city center, but it was far more packed than he had expected.

"Now, if you look at this leather, what do you think it is! It's crocodile beast leather, I tell you! What's a crocodile? You don't even know? Are you seriously talking to me right now? Unbelievable."

"This stone here is a lucky stone! Brought straight from the West, blessed by dozens of shamans in a grand ritual..."

"Firewood! Firewood for sale!"

Everywhere, people were shouting until their throats strained.

Between the buildings, there were rows of stalls and temporary tents, filled with people loudly advertising what they were selling. No room for wagons to pass through here.

On top of that, with construction materials and workers from the building guild hauling in supplies with donkeys and carts, it looked more like a battlefield than an actual market.

Well, there wasn't blood splattering or people dying, at least.

Or rather, not usually.

"You bastard, I told you this was my turf!"

"Turf? What turf!"

Two grown men started throwing punches at each other. Their moves weren't anything trained — just two vendors who got into a fight while selling their wares.

And when a young man watching from behind jumped in for no reason, a real brawl was about to break out.

The awkward part was that the old man with the cane was walking straight into the middle of it.

Maybe if Enkrid hadn't been watching, he wouldn't have noticed. But he had been.

Enkrid pushed his way through the crowd in one stride, carefully shoving aside people without being too rough, and grabbed the old man's sleeve.

"It's better not to go that way."

He figured the old man's hearing should be sharper if his sight was gone, but with the market being so noisy, it was probably hard to distinguish directions by sound.

"You are a kind ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) soul."

The old man said without even turning his head.

He somehow knew exactly who had grabbed his sleeve and who had spoken.

Enkrid found that strangely impressive. But that was the end of it. The old man changed direction and kept walking, and soon guards came running as the scuffle grew.

Piiiit!

A guard blew his whistle and shouted.

"Enough! Break it up! Hey, you — drop that rock! If someone dies, you're dead too! If you don't wanna get dragged to court, cut it out."

The approaching guards skillfully broke up the fight.

There were three well-trained, fully armed soldiers. No sloppy brawler could hope to intervene now.

After the fight ended, only grumbling remained.

"Some vagrant punk from another city..."

"Oh please, and you're a Border Guard native?"

The two merchants kept grumbling angrily, and a few younger men behind them looked just as sour.

Enkrid recalled something Kraiss had mentioned a few days ago.

It was about the inevitable problems when people gathered in one place.

Factional conflict.

One side consisted of those who had settled in Border Guard long ago; the other, recent newcomers. And they didn't get along.

Some were cliques formed by people from the capital, others by southern nobles from Naurillia who had crossed into the city.

The endless factional fighting was causing headaches.

It was a natural outcome when too many people crammed into a small space, desperately fighting to carve out their share of profits.

Some people didn't care about factions, others stood back and just watched, and some used the factions to pull tricks for their own benefit.

'It's not exactly a trick, but someone like Vanessa would be perfect.'

Vanessa, a native, had expanded her inn, opened a new restaurant, and recently even started a cafeteria.

They said the pumpkin beverage she served there, ground and prepared fresh, was unbelievably delicious, though Enkrid hadn't yet tried it.

The lines were just too long.

And he couldn't exactly announce, "I'm the Commander of the Mad Knight Order," just to cut in line.

He could find a way if he really wanted to, but Enkrid had never been one to chase after food.

He liked tasty things, sure, but he wasn't the type to go out of his way for them.

In any case, wherever people gathered, problems like this were bound to crop up.

What he was seeing now seemed to be one of those problems.

'If left alone, it might fester.'

Who knew. Enkrid himself had never seen a city this bustling before.

Border Guard had developed insanely fast in a short time, leaving nearby cities far behind.

Just recently, several master bakers from Martai had immigrated here, and even people from Cross Guard — a city in Azpen — were moving over.

With the city growing like this, there was no place left for the lords who had oppressed the nearby lands.

And what would they do then? Naturally, some of the surrounding nobles wanted to come under Enkrid's command in Border Guard, but since he didn't accept them, they decided to turn their territories into royal domains.

Meaning, the royal family's power had grown.

Regardless, Border Guard's gates were always open, welcoming anyone who came.

From what Kraiss said, they hadn't even filled all the labor needs in Greenperl yet.

After recalling what he had overheard in passing, Enkrid spent a moment watching the guards handling security, then made his way toward a quieter road.

What had just happened didn't particularly sour his mood, but it wasn't exactly pleasant either.

Enkrid exited the city center and passed through a few alleyways.

In the past, they had smelled of sewage, but thanks to recent urban improvements, the alleys were now wider and clean.

Here and there, he saw what looked like members of the Gilpin Guild.

"Where should I move this?"

A human man — handsome enough despite three long knife scars across his face — was carrying a box of fruit.

His appearance, his outfit, and the dagger at his waist all pointed to the Gilpin Guild.

A black square insignia was engraved on the dagger's hilt.

Lately, the guild had decided on an official emblem for everyone to carry.

They were the ones who guarded the city's nights, together with Border Guard's standing army — the double line of defense for public safety.

When Enkrid entered the alley, a few of the more perceptive guild members glanced at him briefly but didn't say anything.

After passing through the alley, a wide, open road appeared.

Enkrid strolled along the solid stone-paved path and looked up at the piercingly blue sky.

Not a single cloud.

The kind of day that made you want to keep walking just to enjoy the sky.

The breeze was cool, the sunlight warm. Enkrid walked at a steady, unhurried pace, his footsteps sounding softly against the stone.

Doing one's best in everything didn't mean rushing around and panting for breath.

In that sense, this road was made for walking.