Chapter 552 - Viscount Harrison

When Encrid and his two companions entered, the banquet hall's entrance seemed narrow, and for a moment, the entire hall seemed full.

Some nobles saw a halo around them; others felt something ominous. If those men truly set their minds to it, couldn't they kill everyone here in no time? And wasn't one of them called the Noble Slaughterer?

Of course, only a small minority felt uneasy. Most were too busy staring in astonishment and admiration.

Would it be an exaggeration to say their footsteps exuded power? Surely not. A single step from them could change so much. Perhaps this was the bearing of heroes who had shifted the balance of the continent.

In truth, they were simply walking. Everyone already knew they were extraordinary, and their looks only made them seem more so. Encrid, Rem, and Audin had done nothing but walk in normally.

'They're here.'

One noble clenched his fist as he watched Encrid enter. Perhaps this was a moment that called for resolve.

He was completely bald, lean and muscular, with deeply tanned skin and blackened fingernails. In different clothes, he could easily have passed for a farmer. Yet his presence here, wearing an old but serviceable tailcoat, was proof enough that he was a noble.

Feeling the rough fabric against his skin, he tugged once at his collar.

'The Lunatic Knight Order?'

The name they had chosen astonished him all over again.

The bald noble had been among those who denounced Encrid in the audience chamber. He had insisted that their excessive military might needed a bridle, including an oath of loyalty.

Since Encrid's arrival, he had been unable to look away. In fact, everyone was the same. Some of the noblewomen and unmarried ladies even wore dazed expressions.

Was that natural? It surely was. Encrid drew every eye as he entered. Looks could be a weapon, and this was the moment his greatest weapon shone.

Perhaps his black hair had been oiled. Despite its jet-black color, it gleamed richly beneath the lamps illuminating the hall.

People's taste in beauty differed, but when faced with something exceptionally beautiful, most would agree. Encrid's face was such a sight. His straight, prominent nose, his clear blue eyes, his mouth—all were in harmony. He looked as though a god had briefly descended to earth to sculpt and bless him personally.

Even the bald noble found himself thinking how handsome he was.

"Ah."

Two steps beside him, a woman holding a wineglass let out a small gasp. Her companion opposite her was much the same, eyes glazed over, looking liable to drool if left like that much longer.

"A statue is moving?"

Some said things like that. Others simply stared, as though they had forgotten how to speak. At least half the ladies in the hall were probably experiencing that once-in-a-lifetime sensation of falling in love at first sight.

It was as though an enchantment had bewitched them.

"Is this magic?"

It was enough to make such words slip out unbidden.

Even without falling in love at first sight, it was difficult to look away. The noble thought so too. He had recognized Encrid's exceptional looks at the palace, but now, meticulously groomed, with oiled hair and a tailcoat, he was impossible for men and women alike to take their eyes off.

A few immediately showed jealousy, but most of the male nobles took one look and couldn't even muster a sense of rivalry.

A female Frog among the guests showed both boldness and initiative. She stepped forward and actually spoke to him.

"Do you happen to know any Frogs?"

Her action broke part of the illusion spell that had gripped the crowd. Murmurs began filling the silence.

"Who did they say?"

"Didn't they say the Lunatic Knight Order?"

"Ah, the Demon Killer."

Words passed back and forth across the hall. In the capital, the name Demon Killer still carried more weight than Iron Wall Knight. Perhaps it simply came more readily to everyone's lips.

Had an actual demon been hiding here, it would have found this utterly absurd. Encrid had never killed a real demon. Of course, even if one appeared to complain, he would brush it off. He had never asked anyone to call him the Demon Killer, so what was he supposed to do about it? That would be the end of it.

"There's Luagarne. The Frog who used to be at the palace."

The gray-haired man beside Encrid answered the Frog for him. He differed somewhat from the descriptions the bald noble had heard, but gray hair was uncommon enough that he knew who the man was at once.

'The Noble Slaughterer.'

Watching him gaze blankly at the Frog and speak with such indifference, the noble could see none of the violence of a man said to swing his fists at every noble he saw.

Not that he had believed those rumors unquestioningly. What? He beat every noble on sight and needed to cut off a noble's head at regular intervals? Though plenty had indeed died at his hands, surely none had died without reason. If he truly were a homicidal maniac who killed out of hatred for the privileged, he could hardly be standing beside the hero Encrid now.

Still, there was a clear reason he had earned that nickname. He was undoubtedly the most dangerous person here.

Yet that dangerous man lost none of his distinct presence beside the knight commander with his god-blessed looks. No matter how delicious a potato might be, it could never be a sweet potato. Likewise, he radiated his own appeal even beside the Demon Killer.

His gray hair covered his nape, neatly combed and worn half tied back, half loose. His jaw was rather square, but judged on his looks alone, he would have held his own anywhere. The face beside him was simply too outstanding. In any case, he too was a handsome man, with bold features and an expansive air.

"Sister, you already have many rivals. Please restrain yourself."

The man beside him, towering over everyone else, joined in. His forearms looked thicker than the noble's own waist. They actually were thicker than the corseted waists of some women. Merely standing there, he gave the impression of a mountain.

'The bear Beastman.'

Rumors were only rumors. He showed none of a Beastman's distinctive traits. Naturally, he was human too.

His speech suggested deeply held religious convictions, but his shoulders were so broad he scarcely looked human. His neck looked like a section of log had been fitted in its place, his chest seemed ready to burst through his shirt, and his shoulders, forearms, even his fingers appeared muscular. An ordinary gesture carried an extraordinary force.

Quite a few people in the hall preferred a physique that went beyond reassuring bulk to sheer destructive power over mere good looks. After Encrid, he drew their attention most.

"I'd like to be held by him just once."

"I think you could hang from his arm."

"How can his thighs look like that?"

They spoke cautiously, but standing right beside them, the noble could hear everything.

The man nicknamed the bear Beastman behaved with care, yet his forceful presence remained. Naturally, even beside Encrid, he did not fade into the background. All three had their own distinct character.

The hall had passed through three stages—bustle, silence, then murmurs again—as the three entered and found a suitable place to stand.

The bald noble, who had watched them since their arrival, looked at Encrid and briefly lost himself in memories. Ever since he had opposed the man, he had thought today might be his last. Perhaps that was why old memories came so readily.

["What matters most in this world? Land."]

That had been his father's teaching. He agreed, and had managed his domain accordingly.

'Why does land come first? Without it, how are the people of the domain supposed to eat and live? Do knights live without eating or shitting? Aren't they human?'

In that sense, he wanted the kingdom to be a fence protecting him and his land. That was all. He had no ulterior motive. He too knew that Encrid was the hero who had ended the civil war.

'So if I say I meant no harm, will he understand?'

This was his first encounter with a knight, but he knew people. No one liked being shunned and treated with contempt. He would be lucky if it hadn't bred resentment.

Were there no people magnanimous enough to rise above being dismissed and rejected? There were. He had met someone like that, though only once. The King he now served was such a man. Wasn't that why he had sworn his loyalty?

The noble reached inside his coat. His hand closed around something hard. He slipped it into his sleeve and approached. Nothing good would come of someone else seeing it first.

"This is cheating. If you can fight that well, your face shouldn't look like that. You should at least look rugged. Smaller eyes would help, and a snub nose would be even better."

Marcus, said to be one of the King's closest confidants, was teasing them. People still stole glances, but the banquet soon returned to its normal atmosphere. Those who wanted to talk talked, and those who wanted to drink drank.

Of course, a crowd had gathered around the so-called Lunatic Knight Order, and they remained the focus of everyone's attention.

The bald noble moved past the onlookers, his gaze fixed on Encrid. His hand remained inside his sleeve. Perhaps sensing his gaze, Encrid turned toward him. Surely he had not forgotten the face of a man who had openly denounced him at the palace.

"I have something for you."

The noble approached as he spoke. Marcus and the others around him turned to stare.

"Viscount Harrison."

Andrew Gardner, a confidant of the King, recognized him. His sharp gaze seemed to demand why he had come.

Ignoring Andrew's gaze, Viscount Harrison took another step toward Encrid. Then he swiftly pulled his hand from his sleeve and thrust it inside Encrid's coat. It was an exceptionally quick movement for an ordinary man.

* * *

["Don't hate him too much."]

["Who?"]

Krang had said that just after the oath. Encrid had widened his eyes and asked in return.

["That noble from earlier. He didn't mean any harm."]

["Again, who?"]

Encrid had harbored no ill will to begin with. The nobles? He had simply accepted that they were like that. He thought he more or less understood their position.

Besides, this was an age when it was perfectly natural to disbelieve something one hadn't seen, Demon Killer or not. If one believed every rumor, there was even a priest who had beaten a Giant at arm wrestling. Stories like these always involved some exaggeration.

Of course, so many people had witnessed Encrid's deeds that there was little reason to doubt them. No one could challenge him lightly. It would take exceptional courage.

To make an enemy of Encrid now was, at the very least, to oppose the nobles who supported him—and, on a larger scale, to oppose the King. Yet they had still spoken of the dangers knights posed and taken a stand against him.

Was it simply because they disliked him? It hadn't seemed that way. Some looked like fools, but others had stood there with a purpose in their hearts.

When it came to experience living in pursuit of dreams, purpose, and light, Encrid might well have been the foremost person on the continent. So he could tell at a glance that some had stood there resolved to say their piece, even if it meant dying by a sword or falling out of the King's favor.

As Encrid kept asking who he meant, feigning ignorance half in jest, Krang laughed.

["It's a wonder you've survived this long. The way you talk should have gotten you killed dozens of times over."]

Encrid nodded too. His manner of speaking had never gotten him killed, but he had died not merely dozens, but thousands of times.

["Why are you nodding? Anyway, one of them is probably among the people most eager to work with Border Guard right now. He wants to use his accumulated wealth to extend the safe roads."]

Krais had built two branches of safe roads. One led to the capital, Nauril, and the other passed through Martai. What if the road beyond Martai extended south? Every lord in the area would benefit.

Who would benefit most? Domains with trading cities? They would certainly benefit, but someone else wanted the safe roads even more. A noble who had long wished to reclaim the land outside his city. His name was Harrison.

Cultivating the land was his life's purpose. It was inevitable that he would fall in love at first sight with a system that secured an entire area by building guard posts and deploying soldiers.

Encrid had sensed Viscount Harrison approaching for some time. He looked no different now than he had at the palace. His old, worn clothes and stern features stood out, but although his clothing was old, it was clean and neat. Neither his dress nor his manner breached etiquette. Frugal living was ingrained in him.

Encrid didn't know where Krais's safe roads extended or what the man before him wanted. Their eyes had met, so he simply looked at him. Something in Viscount Harrison's eyes reminded him of solid stone.

Was a person's determination worthless if they couldn't wield Will? If someone said a lack of talent meant the outcome was already decided, should they stop? Should they abandon everything they were doing? Should they give up because someone told them it was impossible? Even if that was someone else's judgment, not their own? Did they truly have to?

Harrison approached and thrust something inside Encrid's coat. Naturally, it was neither a weapon nor an assassination attempt. Encrid's ability to track movement let him see that the object was a palm-sized glass bottle, its mouth corked and tightly bound with cord to seal it.

He let him proceed. After tucking the bottle into Encrid's coat, Viscount Harrison spoke.

"I was most discourteous earlier. This is a token of apology."

Encrid didn't ask what the viscount had given him. Instead, he asked something else.

"Is there something you want?"

Perhaps it was the baldness, but the man looked at least twenty years older than him. Viscount Harrison blinked several times at the question, then spoke.

"It wasn't meant as a bribe—no, it is a bribe too. Could you extend the safe roads toward my domain?"

Harrison spoke without a trace of shame. There was a glimpse of stubbornness born of a long life.

Normally, this was where one asked why. Or demanded something in return. But Encrid didn't even ask what had been tucked into his coat.

"Let's do that."

He simply nodded. His answer went far beyond anything Harrison had expected.

"... You won't even ask why?" Harrison asked, bewildered.

"I'll listen if you tell me."

He was saying this based solely on his assessment of the man's character. His eyes, manner, clothes—Encrid had considered them all. What if it was the wrong choice? Life was a succession of choices, and they couldn't always be right. He understood that truth well.

That was why he wasn't afraid to choose. If fear kept him from choosing, wouldn't he be standing still? If that were what he wanted, he would long since have trapped himself in the happy today the ferryman spoke of.

And in the man before him, Encrid had glimpsed a temperament much like his own.

Though bewildered, Harrison could answer steadily. These were words he often spoke.

"I intend to cultivate the land."