Chapter 557 - Because You Fight Insanely Well

The city center was impossibly crowded, but few people walked the street Encrid had turned onto. The atmosphere was entirely different, and he enjoyed it.

A butterfly passed before his eyes, flaunting its red wings. Beside its flight path stretched a long flower bed. Beds like these had been planted throughout the city, and the yellow and orange blossoms caught his eye. They were beautiful.

They were holy gold, known as the Holy Mother's flower. They did not actually contain divine power; that was simply their meaning in the language of flowers. Were they said to be flowers through which God blessed the beauty of the earth? That was why holy gold represented not only the Holy Mother but saints, both women and men—people born with divine power through God's direct blessing.

A few maple trees stood in front of the flower beds. Their red leaves had fluttered down to lie scattered on the ground. It was a lovely road for a walk, newly laid on the city's outskirts, with no shops in sight. Here and there, however, building guilds and craftsmen were erecting buildings. Even they seemed simply part of the scenery.

What was peace, if not living through today and savoring happiness? The atmosphere was poetic enough to inspire such thoughts. A pleasant road, one might say, built on a scale rarely seen in a farming town.

Encrid walked on and reached his destination.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

A smithy rang with hammer blows at a steady rhythm. Encrid ducked slightly through the small entrance, taking in the interior at a glance as fierce heat drove back the cool breeze.

The space was larger than before, but little else had changed. Gray ash and black soot surrounded a blazing forge and bellows. He also spotted someone who looked like part of that landscape.

"Eitri."

Encrid called his name in greeting, and the smith responded.

"You've come."

Still seated before the forge, Eitri merely turned his head to meet his eyes.

"How's it going?"

After the battle with Aspen, Encrid had collected all the enemy knights' weapons. Naturally, he had selected only imprinted weapons. Made with precious metals and all manner of refining techniques, they were unquestionably valuable, yet he had given them to Eitri for research and experimentation.

"I cannot make an imprinted weapon yet," Eitri said bluntly, his tone firm.

"That doesn't matter."

Encrid would entrust his weapon to this man with a dream. He had already decided, and had no intention of changing his mind. In some ways, his stubbornness was almost appalling. Everyone around him knew it. Sinar would have given much the same answer if asked.

"Then would you tell me what you've learned, Sir Encrid?"

That was Eitri's request. He wanted to know what Encrid had learned through fighting: how he used Will, his mindset, and any changes that had occurred along the way.

As he listened, he also examined Encrid's palms and asked about his habits when wielding a sword. Talking with him, Encrid naturally realized that the smith before him possessed considerable martial skill. His questions and answers were far from ordinary.

"You know how to use a sword, don't you?"

"I know a little about using every weapon. I learned because it was necessary for making and testing them."

"Do you train separately, too?"

"No, only as much as I need."

Eitri had talent, too. But what he desired could only be attained through the heat of fire and iron, so that was where he devoted himself. Imprinted weapons bore that name because Will was engraved into them. Perhaps this process was necessary.

'Does everyone do it this way?'

Encrid wondered briefly, but did not ask. That was not what mattered. Whatever others did or had done before, Eitri had found his own method and said he would pursue it with Encrid. That was enough.

And if he failed? That, too, would be Encrid's burden to bear. He had already chosen this road and set out along it, and he did not feel it was wrong. All he needed to show now was trust.

"Do you believe?" Eitri asked midway through, as though reading his thoughts.

"I don't know," Encrid answered honestly.

Neither smiled. They simply continued what they were doing. Eitri remained composed. Perhaps this was a moment he had secretly anticipated and longed for, but he showed no sign of it. The same was true of Encrid.

"All right."

At Encrid's words, Eitri scraped his chair back and straightened up, ready to listen. He, too, knew how to give someone his full attention.

'Or is he concentrating only on the parts he needs?'

That was probably it.

"I've learned quite a few things."

Encrid continued as though making casual conversation. At some point, the Frog sculptor came over beside Eitri. Naturally enough, the Frog seemed to be training still, not having abandoned that dream.

Eitri nodded now and then as Encrid spoke. He did not need to understand everything; a rough grasp of certain abstract concepts would suffice. To achieve that, he asked question after question, checking his understanding against what he had learned and practiced himself. Melting down imprinted weapons and hammering them apart had brought him insights of his own.

Then the Frog joined their discussion. Encrid had neither expected nor imagined spending his time this way, but he enjoyed it. These were not people who had devoted themselves to the sword, yet neither wasted a single day. Each gave their utmost. Listening, Encrid also found much to learn and understand.

The three talked until the sun had set and the moon had risen. When Encrid finally prepared to leave late that night, Eitri said,

"Use this. You should stop using that gladius."

Encrid did as he said without question. At Eitri's instruction, his apprentice brought over a short sword with a moderately thick blade, a little shorter than the gladius. Encrid took it and checked its balance. It felt comparatively heavy.

"I mixed in black gold," Eitri explained as he watched.

"I'll put it to good use."

Krais would already have handled the cost and payment. After hearing Eitri's dream, Encrid had told him to provide support.

Encrid stepped outside. A bright moon hung in the cloudless sky. Gazing at the round full moon, he mulled over their conversation and reflected on the day's events.

No revelation flashed through his mind like lightning.

'Have I been driving myself with the compulsion to do my utmost every day?'

That was all he thought.

Then he began another day just like the last. He had walked through the city and seen all sorts of things, yet nothing had changed. As before, he simply kept swinging his sword.

After meeting Eitri and hearing about imprinted weapons, he threw himself back into training. In between, he signed whatever required his signature and received a letter. It was from Anu, King of the East—the first in quite some time. Judging by its contents, the rumors had reached the East.

-The Iron Wall Knight? Is that you? What did you do? I'm curious, so write back in detail. Oh, and the girl you sent is still alive. Might die soon, though. And the Lunatic Knight Order? You picked a good name. You're all mad bastards.

Well, he wasn't wrong. Aside from Encrid himself, they could all fairly be called lunatics. The rumors alone made that clear.

The letter carried a faint smell of blood, and the handwriting was hasty. It looked as though Anu had dashed it off during a fight somewhere. Encrid wrote a reply and sent it. Seeing no reason to write at length, he kept it very short.

-Things just turned out that way. Dunbachel isn't a Beastman who dies easily.

After writing the letter, he returned to spending his time swinging his sword. Rem, who was carefully polishing his axe blade at one side of the training ground, asked,

"Why'd you name it the Lunatic Knight Order, anyway?"

Encrid did not believe every rumor. But he did not consider those under his command normal, either—just as he had thought while reading Anu's letter.

At Rem's question, Ragna, Jaxon, Audin, Teresa, Roford, and even Pell pricked up their ears. Luagarne, too, rolled her large eyes toward him and opened her mouth. Her questioning croak suggested he had even stirred that characteristic Frog curiosity. Puffing out her cheeks, she said,

"Yes, I've wondered that myself."

Encrid briefly wondered whether it was right to tell a madman to his face that he was mad. Probably not. And so he could not quite bring himself to be honest.

"Because you fight insanely well."

His voice lacked a little conviction. Still, his meaning was clear, and his point came across. Rem nodded in agreement.

"That's true."

As Krang had said, everyone, Encrid included, nodded. It seemed true.

Afterward, Encrid swung his sword, meditated, and experimented with his Will until sunset, when Krais came to see him. He looked like a man with much to say. That was how he appeared to Encrid, at least. The traces of worry and anguish on his face were unmistakable.

* * *

Krais decided he stood at a crossroads.

'All right, let's think this through.'

Two paths lay before him. One was to keep living as he did now. The other was to throw it all away and flee somewhere on the Empire's fringes.

What did continuing like this mean?

'Living without knowing when I might die from poison or an arrow.'

And throwing everything away and running?

'Hiding somewhere and living out my days in peace.'

Honestly, the latter was not a life he particularly wanted, either. But it was less dangerous. Would Nurat come with him? No. In other words, he would have to leave behind everything he had.

'That's the right choice.'

In return, his chances of dying would drop dramatically. No more headaches like these, either. That settled it. Wanting a short, spectacular life was madness. Surely life was meant to be long, comfortable, and reasonably enjoyable? He could open a salon in some corner of a city and get by.

Krais was different from the others. He knew that better than anyone.

'I'm perfectly normal.'

He hardly belonged under a name like the Lunatic Knight Order. That was why.

'Let's give it up.'

He could see, to some extent, what awaited the continent. Fire and steel, blood, the boundary between life and death, monsters and demonic beasts. The anxiety would eventually drive him mad. He had to account for all of it and find a way to survive every single time?

'Ragna might manage a trip around the continent sooner.'

A world soaked in blood was coming. That was how it would be. Even so, things had gone too far for him to tell Encrid to stop here, withdraw, and let the rest of the world fend for itself while they lived comfortably.

'Is there a place for me here?'

Of course there was. There would be more than enough work that needed him.

But he would become just as close a friend to death. In the end, he might have to take that friend's hand and cross the river to the faraway world beyond.

A firm resolve rose in his heart. Hadn't the Captain raised a wall with Will? Krais had now raised a determination just as strong. Unable even to tell Nurat first, he had agonized for days. The moment he made up his mind, he sought Encrid out.

"Captain."

Dusk was collapsing, its orange glow fading beyond the mountains as darkness settled. A vivid blue darkness, perhaps—the sun had scattered its last traces of light in one final struggle, leaving the dark washed blue.

Amid that darkness, a pair of blue eyes met his: eyes that looked only ahead, advancing straight and true. Their owner would never bend his purpose, whatever happened. Even looking into the Captain's eyes, Krais knew his own resolve had not wavered.

'This is no place for someone like me.'

The continent would burn. The war with Aspen was not the issue. He had somehow managed to arrange things up to this point, but he could handle no more. He had come here because he felt his limits.

The recent discord and factional disputes within the city, the countless other problems arising—he felt they had all grown beyond his ability to resolve. He had no regrets. This was simply the limit of his capacity.

No, perhaps he did regret it a little. He was curious how far Encrid would go. But his own dream, his life, his continued existence mattered more. Nothing mattered more than that.

'This is as far as I go.'

Encrid had become a knight, the fruit of never stopping, of always pressing onward. Having at least witnessed that, Krais felt he had no lingering attachments.

"Is something troubling you?"

Encrid asked, and Krais shook his head.

"I don't think I'd call it that."

He had already reached his conclusion.

His eyes were dull, his voice thick. He was not neatly dressed, either. Encrid knew that far too much work had been piled onto Krais lately. Some of it was work Encrid should have done himself, while some would not be resolved merely by his stepping in. At a time like this, shouldn't he at least offer some encouragement?

"On this trip, Krang told me about his ambitions."

Ambitions? Krais was not particularly curious, but since things had come to this, he would hear him out before saying his piece.

"Even the Empire and the Great Kingdom were part of his vision."

The Demonic Realm, the Empire, the Great Kingdom, Cultists. The scale was far, far too large.

'Just as I thought. This is no place for me.'

His resolve remained unshaken.

"That means you could build salons in the Empire and the Great Kingdom, too."

Encrid spoke, and Krais experienced an earthquake. In other words, he wavered. Not his body. His heart.