A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Clatter.

Plates were lined up one after another on the table.

He wasn't picky about food, but no one dislikes delicious food.

Enkrid was no different.

It was the knights' exclusive dining hall inside a building separate from the military barracks.

It was something Kraiss had built while expanding and renovating the barracks.

Normally, they ate the same food as the soldiers, but whenever guests arrived, serving proper dishes was a kind of courtesy.

It was a custom spread by the Empire and neighboring kingdoms.

In the West, when showing respect, they would cook something themselves or serve food made by their family, but in the Central Continent, this was the way.

The old man had requested an invitation, and Enkrid had nodded — which brought them to this moment.

Jaxon had said the man felt strangely faint in presence.

Yet when he released something akin to killing intent, he caught it adeptly.

During that process, Enkrid had sensed a feeling similar to Anu, the King of the East.

In other words, this man likely fought at a knight's level.

But strangely, seeing him in person gave no such impression at all.

That itself was curious.

Even more so, he hadn't even sensed anything earlier.

A peculiar but blind old man.

That had been Enkrid's full impression — but now, he realized it wasn't that simple.

Lua Gharne, too, seemed to feel something, busily rolling her big eyes while observing him.

He wondered what Frokk would see with his talent for perception.

Just as he glanced at Lua Gharne, she spoke.

"Can't see anything."

So even Frokk's talent for discerning abilities wasn't omnipotent.

"Why are you staring so hard?"

Feeling Enkrid's gaze, Lua Gharne puffed out her cheeks slightly.

"You look pretty today."

"You can distinguish Frokk's appearance?"

She could distinguish it, at least. Though beauty or ugliness might be another story.

Enkrid was observant, after all.

At that, Shinar turned her head and spoke.

"Do you prefer Frokk over a fairy?"

"Let's eat."

If he answered such questions, the fairy's jokes would dance across the table — something Enkrid wasn't keen on, so he changed the subject.

"Right. Eating comes first."

Said the blind old man.

At the table were only Enkrid, Jaxon, Shinar, and Lua Gharne.

Ragna was asleep, and Rem had gone into the mountains to train her troops — armed with nothing but a single axe, not even proper equipment or rations.

It seemed less like training and more like tormenting her subordinates.

Still, those who endured it would no doubt become much stronger.

He'd heard that even the twins who had come from the West as training instructors had joined her.

The twins who had once joined the Western merchant caravan led by Enri had come all the way to the Border Guard and stayed here.

The Western merchant caravan's escort duties were now handled jointly by the Border Guard and the Lockfried Caravan, so it wasn't a problem.

If you asked why the Border Guard and Lockfried Caravan got involved, it wasn't solely due to Enkrid and Enri's personal connection.

Simply put, Kraiss and Leona had recognized the tremendous value in the trade route from the West to here.

They saw that the path Enri walked could stretch from the West through the Central region, and on to the East or the southeastern part of Naurillia.

They had already named it the Stone Road.

One of the main goods was obsidian, along with several other rare stones, and their plan was to lay solid stone roads and establish small cities at key points, starting with safe highways.

Of course, it wasn't something achievable in a day or two — or even in a year or two.

Even with advanced construction techniques, paving roads and building cities — a dozen at minimum — wasn't easy.

You couldn't just pour krona into it and be done.

There needed to be people living there for it to have meaning.

It was something that required painstaking effort over a long time.

The fact that they stepped forward to do it so readily showed that the profit from it would be beyond enormous.

Both of them knew all too well that increasing trade routes exponentially boosted profits.

And it had already been proven by others.

In the southeastern part of Naurillia was the continent's greatest trading city — a city-state — whose prosperity was thanks to its waterways.

Of course, waterways alone wouldn't have been enough.

Their shipbuilding skills that built cargo ships and fast boats capable of traversing several major rivers across the continent, and their acumen in establishing cities at each key point, had enabled their current prosperity.

Anyway, Ragna wasn't there, Rem wasn't there, and Audin had taken Teresa somewhere for a prayer ritual.

Something about awakening Teresa's talents.

Enkrid hadn't heard the full details.

Lophod and Pell were around, but both were too busy with their own training.

Since they constantly spurred each other on, if one realized something and started training like a madman, the other naturally followed in Enkrid's style.

Which meant swinging a sword like a man possessed.

So they didn't care who came or went.

Esther was still in the barracks, but in her leopard form.

Enkrid hadn't asked why, but she had said she would remain in that form all week.

She was handling her meals in the wild too, saying she needed to accumulate natural energy — without even being asked.

Thus, it was only Shinar, Lua Gharne, Enkrid, and Jaxon at the table.

The chef who had laid the plates stepped aside.

"Hmm."

The white-haired old man tilted his chin and swayed his nose left and right.

He seemed to be savoring the aroma.

Soup, dried fish with braised sauce, and tender pork cuts with steamed vegetables were the main dishes.

Asparagus, carrots, leafy greens, and neatly sliced meat caught the eyes of everyone — except the old man, of course, who couldn't see.

But he seemed to be reading the food with his nose.

"Pork, huh? And the fish... hmm, dried, I think."

Just by the scent, he correctly guessed the dishes.

It was a remarkable talent.

"It looks good, too," Enkrid said.

Beside the main course, there was also a plate of halved tomato marinades — delightful both in scent and color.

The old man tapped the table lightly with his fork, then picked up a piece of meat and vegetables and placed it in his mouth.

Since he was blind, it was natural that he would fumble a little — but it didn't look awkward at all.

If you weren't paying close attention, you might not even realize he was blind.

'How can he do that?'

Enkrid watched in silence, deep in thought.

After observing him up close, he realized one thing:

The old man was incredibly skilled in every action.

He never panicked, always seeming to know what was around him.

Even now, no one had explained where the dishes or forks were, yet he found and handled them smoothly.

After taking a bite, the white-haired old man gazed into the distant air and nodded.

"Mm, do you know what I value most?"

"What is it?"

"The doneness of the vegetables."

The old man spread his thumb and index finger slightly, then opened both hands wide, speaking with the utmost seriousness.

"They're neither too hard nor too mushy. Perfect. Excellent. From the way they're cut to the texture — splendid. The knife work is filled with care. This food was made for the eater. And the sauce... hmm, is that pork liver?"

It wasn't just his sense of smell.

His palate was one of the finest on the continent.

With his sharp taste, he deduced the ingredients and the cooking process.

"Yes, that's correct," answered the chef in an excited tone.

"Mmm, good. Delicious."

The white-haired old man said again, then focused on his meal.

Watching him, Enkrid's hand moved on its own.

As the old man had said, it was an excellent dish.

Though Enkrid couldn't describe it as finely, he could tell.

The well-cooked pork — a blend of lean and fatty parts — mixed with the rich mashed potatoes and the thick sauce made with pork liver — filled his mouth with deep, satisfying flavor.

"Were you once a chef?"

When Enkrid had eaten enough and asked, the old man smiled gently and said,

"Since I lost the joy of seeing, the joy of eating has increased."

The old man waved the hand holding his fork as he spoke, and Jaxon, following that motion, gripped his dining knife — as if ready to throw it at any moment if things went wrong.

If Enkrid could sense it, surely the old man could too.

Yet the old man showed no particular reaction and continued speaking calmly.

"Without joys like these, wouldn't life be tasteless?"

The old man spoke again.

It was clear he meant that, being blind, his sense of taste had developed instead.

After the meal, the chef returned and served dessert and tea.

Marcus, whenever the time was right, would send carefully refined tea leaves.

Recently, the alchemist they had hired was hopeless in his craft but managed to dry tea leaves properly at least.

Tea brewed from those leaves was served, along with crispy pastries made by frying flour, and bread baked only with salt and butter.

"Hmm, the bread is baked to just the right degree."

The old man enjoyed the meal.

"He's an amusing one,"

Shinar commented while watching him.

They weren't fully armed, but everyone had a weapon at their side.

And everyone here — excluding the chef — knew that the old man's staff wasn't a simple walking stick.

It was a sword stick — a sword concealed inside a staff.

Convenient to carry, but since it lacked a guard at the handle, the sword techniques that could be used were limited.

Without a guard, a slip of the hand could lead to it being cut by the blade itself, and techniques that used the guard to deflect an opponent's sword couldn't be performed.

Simply put, even something basic ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) like hooking and repelling an opponent's sword would have to be done purely with the blade — so aside from portability, it wasn't a particularly practical weapon.

The old man's staff was now leaning against the table after the meal.

A servant approached to clear it away, but the old man stopped him.

Praising the chef for the delicious meal, the old man then turned his head toward Enkrid and spoke.

Despite being blind, the natural movement of his gaze made it feel almost as if he could see.

"It's an honor to meet you in person. Just as I heard, you're quite the handsome man."

"Hmm."

Shinar reacted at those words.

How would he know when he couldn't even see?

Shinar tilted her head slightly.

"I'm joking,"

The old man laughed at his own words.

"Back when I could see — thanks to my wit — many a lady suffered lovesick fevers because of me."

"Did you perhaps learn that joke from a fairy?"

Enkrid asked seriously.

At that, Shinar's eyebrow twitched.

It was an irritating question.

"No, it's natural talent. Truth is, I've never been able to see. I was born blind."

Hahaha.

The old man laughed at his own words, but no one else joined him.

Instead, they simply thought: this old man is truly strange.

"Is his head broken?"

Lua Gharne muttered, doubting the old man's sanity.

Jaxon remained silent.

The old man pulled out a clean but worn handkerchief and wiped his mouth.

"I ate well. Should I now pay for my meal?"

It was only natural.

No one would go through all this just for the sake of sharing a meal.

"Let's have a duel,"

Enkrid answered immediately, almost as if he'd been waiting for it.

They had eaten, talked.

The old man's affiliation? His rank? His reason for being here?

Enkrid didn't know — and for now, didn't even care.

Everyone had a different perspective.

It was just a difference in viewpoint.

Enkrid had seen the old man for the second time now, and things he hadn't noticed the first time were visible now.

This old man — he would fight well.

It was instinct.

'Exceptionally well, at that.'

Why was it so hard to gauge his skill? Why had Jaxon said he felt strange? Why couldn't Lua Gharne gauge him either?

Everything the blind old man had shown only added to Enkrid's sense of anticipation.

Affiliation, intentions — who cared about such things?

Blazing flames rose from his heart, spreading through his entire body.

Willpower ignited, and he conveyed his intention to the old man.

He wanted to clash.

He didn't know what the old man had — and that made it all the more thrilling.

There was no other reason for bringing him here and feeding him properly.

"Do you have a hobby of beating up blind old men?"

The old man asked.

"If you think you'll quietly take a beating, then yes, I do,"

Enkrid retorted without missing a beat.

The old man's milky eyes curved gently.

"I can't win in words. Even if I toss jokes, you don't even crack a smile."

"That's because I've already been hardened by someone else."

"It wasn't by me, though. Right, fiancée?"

Shinar suddenly chimed in.

Knowing it was best to stay silent when cornered, Enkrid simply pushed his chair back.

Screech — pushing the chair with his thigh, he stood up and said,

"Let's go outside."

Without waiting for a reply, Enkrid headed straight out.

Watching him go, Shinar murmured,

"We'll have to talk about this properly later. Fiancée."

It was a small voice, but Enkrid, whose ears were always sharp, surely heard it.

The fairy thought, then stood up herself.

She wasn't as eager as Enkrid, but she too wanted to watch.

That old man — though not a Forest Clan member — had used the art of Assimilation better than her own kin.

Assimilation — the skill of blending into surroundings, making oneself one with the forest, with water, with the environment itself.

Among the knights who wielded Will, many used this art — but its origins lay with the fairies.

In that sense, the old man was extremely unusual.

He blended into the surroundings so well that even to her senses, his presence felt faint.

"If you've eaten, paying for it is only the natural order of the world,"

the old man said, rising and tapping the floor with his staff as he stepped outside.