A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

The envoy, locking eyes with Enkrid, shook his head. That part wasn't in the letter. He had stayed behind not to deliver a message on parchment—but to speak aloud what had to be said. Everyone around him had urged him not to write it down, fearing what could happen if it were read by the wrong eyes.

There was someone from the Church present as well. He could have passed on the message through them. But something flared up inside the envoy. If it needed to be said, then so be it.

Enkrid's demeanor fanned the flames of his boldness. So what if it was the Church or anyone else? If you believe the path you walk is right, what does it matter who objects?

And who was the man seated at the center of this chamber?

A national hero. A close friend of the king. A slayer of demons. The Knight of the Iron Wall.

Whether the path he walked was right or wrong, the man would destroy anything that dared obstruct it.

Feeling the need to shout down anyone who might dare stand in the hero's way, the envoy opened his mouth and declared:

"To strike the Knight of the Iron Wall is to strike me as well. So go ahead and act as you wish. You can say it's under my authority."

It was Crang's message. A pledge of absolute support, a promise of unwavering backing no matter what Enkrid chose to do.

"Oh, and tell him," the envoy added, "if things get dangerous, I'll come lend a hand myself."

Enkrid replied without hesitation. He didn't see the point in long debates. That wasn't to say he dismissed the need for meetings altogether—just that he had no patience for wasting time on formality.

He had no interest in dragging out decisions that needed no deliberation.

"There are unsettling movements of monsters, beasts, bandits, and cults," Kraiss said. "Especially in the southern region..."

Since the civil war, the area surrounding the Border Guard had mostly stabilized. Even the capital had found its footing. But the kingdom's southern lands were still a hotbed of unrest.

Hadn't a new, infamous bandit group recently surfaced?

"Send troops," Enkrid said flatly. "It'll double as live training."

Kraiss stared at him. That hadn't been discussed beforehand. And yet, Enkrid's answer matched his own unspoken conclusion.

"You really think this could crack our security?"

Enkrid looked toward Venzance, who responded with another military salute.

"Not in the slightest, sir."

Kraiss followed up immediately.

"I'll sort out the deployment. We'll send them with a proper plan."

"If trouble arises, I'll go myself."

As always, Enkrid was sincere. If that new bandit group had any clue about this meeting, they'd be disbanding right now and begging to return to civilian life.

"Hey, I've got idle hands too, y'know. So do the kids I trained."

"I can go solo," Rem added coolly, not to be outdone.

"I could swing by as well," Jaxon chimed in.

"Next," Enkrid said, nodding, moving on. The nod didn't mean he was actually planning to let Ragna go alone—but that wasn't worth discussing here.

There were plenty of problems. But none that couldn't be dealt with. That had always been Enkrid's stance.

From the time he was just a squad leader to now, that part of him hadn't changed. That's why they followed him.

Kraiss had already worked out most of the answers. But he still called the meeting out of unease.

As usual, Enkrid didn't blame him. Instead, he made his stance clear in front of everyone.

"If the king walks a path, I will become his blade. But if someone stands in the way of my path—I'll cut them down. The Church was exploiting a child, so I saved her. If it happens again, I'll do the same."

It was rare for the Church of Plenty to find children they could declare saints or saintesses. That was why they'd acted so desperately when they saw Seiki. Their rashness made sense—because they were running out of time.

Which meant Enkrid had already dealt them a serious blow.

While the Church's priests were likely seething over Enkrid's defiance, Overdeer and Audin were no doubt using the distraction to strike from behind.

Enkrid's actions were, in effect, helping those two. Not that he gave it much thought. But Kraiss did.

He already knew what Audin was planning. He'd already pieced things together based on the discussion and shifting dynamics in the room.

This was an assault.

They're going after the Church.

To be precise, they were turning the Holy Nation into an enemy.

If Audin failed, the consequences would be devastating.

But it wasn't just Audin anymore. There were reports that a Holy Knight had joined the operation.

Judging by how things were unfolding, success seemed more likely than not. Still, the stakes were massive. The cost of failure would be catastrophic. That's why Kraiss was wracking his brain for countermeasures.

But what if they succeed?

Then the outcome would be enormous. Even if the Church wasn't turned into an ally, simply not being enemies would be a win.

So what was the Border Guard's role until then?

Endure. Hold the line, no matter what the Church did. Engaging them directly would be the worst possible move.

This wasn't meant to become a holy war.

Of course, if things got that bad, Enkrid would bring the war to them. But Kraiss wouldn't—he couldn't allow that to happen.

That would be the worst-case scenario. One he had to avoid at all costs.

"We have to hold," Kraiss muttered. "If it comes to a direct clash or a religious war, victory and defeat won't even matter. Only the cultists will benefit."

As Kraiss mulled over the situation, a voice joined him—one belonging to the genius tactician born of Azpen.

Abnaier added his insight, and Kraiss turned to face him.

His words matched Kraiss's thoughts exactly.

"We hold. We pretend nothing's wrong on the surface."

"Exactly. But behind the scenes, we do what must be done."

"What's the biggest risk right now?"

"Any action that causes direct damage to our neighboring territories or allies," Abnaier replied.

Rampant monsters, beasts, bandits, and cultists. Preventing that kind of chaos wasn't enough—they had to hold firm and take no damage. Pulling that off would be a major victory. But was it even possible?

"You think it's impossible? I see it differently," Abnaier said. "Even if we split our forces, it'll be enough."

If Abnaier had anything over Kraiss, it was his unshakable confidence and sharp judgment of troop capabilities.

He saw a bright future. A truly radiant tomorrow.

Kraiss felt some of the pressure lift from his chest. Abnaier wasn't called a genius tactician for nothing—his words had weight.

'They've all fought like hell to get here.'

Two strategists, both regarded as prodigies, offered brief comments only they truly understood.

Thud.

Enkrid lightly tapped the table. The sound wasn't loud—but it carried. The side chatter had grown noisy as the meeting progressed, but at that sound, everyone fell silent. All eyes turned to him—the focal point of the room and the man defending this land.

As the silence settled in, Enkrid spoke in his usual, unbothered tone.

"Then I'll be off."

A simple farewell, but one that concluded the meeting.

He'd said what he needed to say and stood up. Rem and the rest of the knights followed behind.

Shinar, the so-called Witch of Gold, and Esther, the Black Flower, were also present. But no one looked at them—not even once.

Everyone's eyes stayed on Enkrid.

They saw the path he revealed. They accepted the will he expressed. They listened only to the future he spoke of.

Once he and his party departed, only those moved by the weight of his presence remained in the hall.

"Well then. Venzance, summon the squad captains. Leave only the minimum force needed to defend the city. Lord Greyham?"

Kraiss had begun tending to the remaining details. The major course was now set—all that was left was to follow through.

"Speak."

"I request full gear dispersal for complete armament."

This wasn't about training equipment—he was asking that the unit be armed as if preparing for war.

"Inform the merchant guilds and everyone else. Tell the surrounding nobles that the Border Guard troops are moving under contract—and the payment is deferred."

If they were going to help, then they would help completely. Normally, military movement between territories was a politically sensitive matter. But the Border Guard's forces could be interpreted differently.

Because Enkrid's presence made it so. With his infamous title as the Knight of the Iron Wall, no one would suspect he was sending troops to seize land.

And if they did suspect that? If, because of that suspicion, they chose not to ask for help?

That was their choice. But all who reached out—those, he would save. That was the decision.

And it was Enkrid's will as well.

"It's good. This will work," Abnaier said again from the side.

Not bad at all.

Kraiss ran through a few mental calculations in a flash. All of this was, in effect, a move to expand influence in the region.

If Crang—the king of Naurillia—had tried to restrain Enkrid, this would never have taken off. But instead, Crang had publicly pledged his support.

In short, nothing was standing in the way of the Border Guard's mobilization.

That didn't mean all of Kraiss's worries were gone.

My skin is crawling...

If this went wrong, troop losses would be no small matter. One decision here could send people straight into death.

Kraiss had always been a little weak in that regard.

People dying with the flick of a hand? He hated it. Wanted no part of it. But if it had to be done—then it would be.

That's something Kraiss had learned by watching Enkrid.

All I want is to open a lounge and get fat and happy.

Really, what Kraiss wanted was only possible in a time of peace.

He dreamt of people across the continent coming to his city of pleasure just to laze around. An ambitious dream, to say the least.

So in truth, his dream wasn't so different from Enkrid's.

Kraiss steadied himself.

People die from a single command. But that was something no one could change. In the end, each of them made their own choice.

"If they stayed in the army without knowing that, they could die just from that ignorance."

That was something Enkrid always said.

If you pick up a spear or a blade with the intent to kill, you must be prepared to be killed.

If you didn't have that resolve, you wouldn't survive the Border Guard's basic training.

"Alright, everyone—get moving."

Kraiss spoke with renewed resolve. For the time being, everyone would be busier than they could imagine.

And all of this was unfolding before the Church had even begun to act in earnest.

***

Down in the southern part of the kingdom, one of the nobles—Viscount Harrison—shouted with his entire head flushed red.

"Absolutely not!"

"But if this keeps up, everyone might die. I say we fall back and enact a scorched earth defense."

The scorched earth tactic: burning supplies and crops so they wouldn't fall into enemy hands.

In other words, he was suggesting that they torch all the fields the viscount had cultivated.

The one who spoke was the captain of the town watch—a former mercenary who had since become one of Harrison's retainers.

He was right. The viscount knew that. But if he gave up the land now, the rest was obvious.

Lose the land, lose the harvest. Burn and destroy it all, and reclaiming the land later would be a near-impossible task.

What came after? Likely a lifetime of being exploited within a tiny patch of land.

The enemy was a newly formed bandit gang—somehow using monstrous beasts.

Hundreds of boar beasts. Well over a hundred bandits. And dozens of them were expert archers.

Meanwhile, all Viscount Harrison had were fifty spearmen and thirteen archers.

And that was only thanks to spending generously on military funds. The bandits still outnumbered them more than two to one.

Harrison had two choices left:

One: abandon the land and fight in retreat.

Two: stay and defend the land—and die doing it.

Both options were unacceptable. Cold sweat dripped down the viscount's scalp. Winter was coming, yet his body was burning up. He felt like he could collapse any second.

That's when a town watchman who had been keeping an eye on the outer perimeter rushed in.

"Uh, sir—reinforcements have arrived!"

"...Reinforcements?"

The watch captain repeated the words. But no one was supposed to be coming. The southern region had been in chaos lately—overrun with monsters and beasts.

Even rumors of cultist sightings were circulating.

Reinforcements? From where?

"Should I let them in?"

"Let them in!"

Whoever they were, Viscount Harrison wasn't about to be picky.

"Hello there."

It was a soldier. Definitely unfamiliar.

But the soldier held up his cloak to reveal an insignia—a distinct city crest, carved cleanly into the fabric.

Thick «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» horizontal lines layered like a fortress wall. A new symbol, recently issued by the King of Naurillia to the Border Guard.

Even if you weren't a herald, you'd recognize that emblem: the insignia of the Border Guard Standing Army.

The same unit that once held the frontier and consumed the Azpen forces—their former enemy—through sheer madness.

The very unit commanded by the man who gifted the sacred spring from his homeland.

All of these thoughts raced through Harrison's mind at once. Words and titles used to describe the Border Guard flashed past like gusts of wind.

"Just letting you know, sir—we're a squad unit deployed under the Standing Army."

The soldier said this calmly.

They weren't many in number, but to Viscount Harrison, it was enough to spark the flame of hope.

Though what happened next went far beyond what he expected.

"Boar beasts? Great. We'll handle it. Have your town watch stay behind and guard against possible rear attacks."

The reinforcements had come. They confirmed the boar beasts' charge and then announced they'd take care of everything themselves.

Viscount Harrison was stunned.

And once he saw them fight, he found himself completely speechless.