"Are you going to be with the Border Guard?"
In response to Krais' question, Encrid nodded.
"I figured you would, so I've made some preparations. Let me know if you need anything else. Loyalty!"
Ever since seeing the General and the treasure, Krais' eyes had gleamed like gold coins, and he had taken to repeating the word 'loyalty' over and over.
Encrid didn't blame him. No matter what anyone said, Krais always did his job properly.
Their quarters had changed. They were bigger, with more rooms. A new training ground had been set up in front of it.
There had been a dedicated training ground for the Mad Company before, but this time it was different from the ground up.
Neat stone slabs covered the wide expanse of land.
On one side, green leaves hung neatly from trees, glistening with early morning dew.
The sun was just beginning to rise. It was summer, the season of early sunrises.
Trees, flowers, the rising sun.
As he watched the leaves sway in the wind, Encrid drew his sword.
He then repeated his usual training. There were no sparring sessions today.
"Let's see when my axe is finished."
Rem gritted his teeth as he spoke.
"My Greatsword isn't ready yet."
Ragna also declined with a furrowed brow.
"Are you planning to stab and slash with that, General Brother?"
Even Audin subtly expressed his refusal.
"I'm not doing it."
Dunbachel avoided him.
"I've got a new shield."
Even Teresa turned him down.
"My ankle may have healed, but I'd need three to take you on now."
Even the hope named Luagarne faded.
Sinar didn't even show up.
"I don't think I'm ready yet."
When he tried to call out Pel as a last resort, he shook his head.
He added that he couldn't win yet. It seemed like no one wanted to fight right now.
For Encrid, it was disappointing. The only thing he had done was test out Aker, one of the finest swords he had recently acquired.
During that test, he had split Rem's axe blade and sliced through the temporary sword Ragna had borrowed, but that couldn't be helped.
After all, when you acquire a new sword, you must test it.
"Don't you think that's a bit unfair?"
Rem sneered as he spoke, but Encrid responded calmly.
"Having proper weapons is part of one's skill."
"Let's not talk about something the King just handed you..."
Rem gave up on the conversation. Trying to outwit Encrid with words was harder than summoning more magic.
"Come at me, you savage barbarian of the West."
Encrid teased Rem a few more times, but Rem had learned enough to shut his ears and ignore him.
Encrid soon cleared his thoughts and focused on his training.
'Slash, stab, and cut.'
As he envisioned an imaginary enemy, his sword swung, stirring the wind and shaking the leaves.
'You can learn from everything you see.'
Profound realizations weren't always necessary. By repeating his movements, he reduced small errors and perfected better motions.
With his thoughts in sync, everything he had learned naturally blended into the sword as he slashed and stabbed in continuous motions.
In that moment, he aimed for Will.
'Two moves in a single breath.'
Ragna had once executed three moves in a single breath.
He had witnessed it when Ragna cut down the Spectral General in front of the Count.
Encrid couldn't do that yet. What Ragna had done bordered on miraculous, surpassing mere skill.
It was the closest he had ever seen to a Knight's swordsmanship.
'Repeat and repeat again.'
If a ferryman had been standing next to him, they would have cursed at him for being insufferably repetitive.
Following the burst of speed came the Crushing Sword technique.
The Trapping Sword conjured up a mental battle, setting up an imaginary enemy.
The opponents before him ranged from a young prodigy he had met in the past to mercenaries from his old days, to Lierbart, Rem, Ragna, and Audin.
None of those fights had been easy.
Although Encrid was already among the top ranks of Junior Knights in terms of skill, the outcome of a fight was always different from training.
Anyone could die to a stray blade.
'Don't speak of victory or defeat before the battle.'
Three of his instructors had told him the same thing. Strangely, all three had initially refused to train Encrid, only relenting after seeing his persistence, which went beyond desperation.
As he continued to swing his sword again and again, sweat splattered in all directions.
In Encrid's eyes, the person closest to being a Knight was Ragna.
Whether it was cutting down the enemy before him in a single strike.
Or the sword he wielded while slicing through the waves of specters.
In every aspect, he had surpassed the level of a Junior Knight. That's why Encrid asked.
"Have you reached the rank of Knight?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know?"
"I haven't been there, so I don't know."
There was certainty in Ragna's words. It was the confidence only a genius could possess.
He spoke with his demeanor.
Though he hadn't reached it yet, he was sure he would.
An absolute belief could be seen in his attitude and actions.
Encrid was well aware of his own lack of talent, and he was surrounded by people like Ragna—geniuses.
Rem was one of them, and so was Audin.
Even Dunbachel and Teresa had improved to a level incomparable to before. They were born with different talents.
And what about Pel? Just watching him gauge his opponent's skills with his eyes was enough to label him a genius.
Even Squire Lawford, though Encrid didn't know what drove him to follow along, surely had more talent than him.
Lierbart was a poet drowning in a swamp of despair and frustration.
He sang of despair and danced in defeat. He lamented his lack of talent and walked down the dark path of heresy.
"Despair! And be frustrated!"
The ferryman's illusion shouted.
Encrid ignored it all. He wouldn't let such idle thoughts disrupt his posture or shake his resolve.
It was at the height of his training, with sweat pouring down.
From one side, he heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Encrid stopped his sword swings and turned his gaze.
It was from the direction of the rising sun. A shadow was walking toward him, backlit by the light.
The now fully risen sun illuminated the surroundings brightly, revealing reddish-brown hair and two arms swinging naturally by the figure's sides.
Encrid knew that at any moment, a silent dagger could fly from those hands, and that countless blades and weapons were hidden all over that man's body.
If Audin's body was like a steel mace, the person approaching now was like a living weapon, capable of killing someone simply by breathing.
As his skills improved, so did his awareness. What he hadn't noticed before in Jaxon's 'preparations' was now visible.
The subtle things hidden in each step, each hand movement.
Encrid shifted his stance, tugging on his sword belt, resting his hand on his waist. Instinctively, his hand grasped Aker.
It was a legendary sword, named after a Knight from the nation's founding myth. One could call it the Royal Family's treasured blade.
'Would it be alright to break it?'
It was given to him, so it couldn't be helped, right?
If Jaxon attacked now, Encrid knew that neither he nor Aker would come out unscathed.
Among assassins, there was a saying about their rankings.
Displaying your intent to kill openly? Third-rate.
Showing it subtly? Second-rate.
Approaching with no hint of killing intent? First-rate.
Approaching with an ordinary presence? Supreme-class.
Jaxon seemed the same as usual, but Encrid's sharp instincts and senses told him otherwise.
"You've improved quite a lot."
Jaxon said as he approached.
"Still a long way to go."
Encrid replied, lowering his arms further, relaxing his body. To explode with speed in an instant, you had to stay relaxed.
"To become a Knight, you mean?"
A nod.
Jaxon stopped walking. The sunlight behind him cast a shadow over his face, making him appear colder than ever, with deep shading accentuating his features.
"I have something to ask."
"Ask."
"Why didn't you join the Knights?"
* * *
"Are you returning now?"
In the past, when Geor's Dagger Master was in charge, there was a task that was always done in secret after an infiltration mission.
It involved killing everyone who might suspect the identity of the infiltrating guild member.
In the present day, this wasn't a strict rule that had to be followed.
However, if the target was none other than the Master of Geor's Dagger, the story changed.
The Master of Geor's Dagger was always someone who had to remain hidden behind a veil of mystery.
"Should I take care of it?"
His lover, who was also the Master's daughter, asked.
Jaxon didn't respond. He found it hard to speak.
"If it must be done, I'll do it with my own hands."
His lover nodded.
That made sense, after all.
So, when should they take care of it, and when would they return? The overdue requests were one thing, but the bigger problem was that the Master had been absent for too long, causing the discipline to falter.
There were plenty of people waiting for a chance to exploit the situation and make a move for his position.
Even just thinking about it, there were more than five candidates.
'No, there must be at least ten.'
Nevertheless, out of respect for the Master, Jaxon followed his will.
For no particular reason, Jaxon was still here. He could have left before the civil war started, or even afterward. There was no need for him to return to the Border Guard.
He had countless opportunities to kill those who suspected his identity.
So, why hadn't he acted, whether successfully or not?
There were so many questions and mysteries that puzzled and confused him.
"May I ask why?"
As a lover, not a guild member serving the Master, she asked Jaxon, and for a moment, he couldn't answer.
"If I ask, I think I'll understand."
"Understand what?"
"Why you didn't become a Knight."
To her, it was a sudden and random remark. But not to Jaxon.
'Master.'
On his way here, the words of the former Master constantly echoed in Jaxon's mind.
"A technique without heart will end as nothing but a murderous art, you fool."
Was that really something you say to someone who came to learn the art of killing?
"Do you enjoy killing people that much? Is it fun for you?"
He didn't feel it often, but sometimes, yes, it was enjoyable.
"Don't smile. If I see you smile, I'll feel like I made the wrong choice."
Jaxon wasn't even curious about what that choice was.
From the very beginning, the Master had said similar things to him.
"If you have something precious to you, the murderous art that only ends in death can also become a sword to protect."
Jaxon once asked the Master in return.
"So what is it that you protect, Master?"
"My daughter and family, the fools who live just to see me, and the walls that keep people like you from being unleashed upon the world."
Half of it made sense, but the other half didn't.
It wasn't a particularly important conversation.
It was the kind of thing you just listen to and forget.
What mattered to Jaxon was the power he needed for revenge.
Now that his revenge had been achieved, should he seek out new targets for vengeance?
Should he keep hunting down those who remained, one by one?
Was that the right path?
Before worrying about right or wrong, he thought it was simply something he had to do. That's why he was still here.
"Come on, Jaxon Vensino, rightful heir of Vensino. Do you want to become a killing maniac? Is your life's goal only to perfect the art of murder? Is that your dream? Is that all there is to you?"
The Master's words echoed repeatedly in Jaxon's mind.
* * *
Encrid paused for a moment, pondering Jaxon's sudden question.
"Why, you ask?"
He hadn't really given it much thought.
But in hindsight, he could have stayed with the Knights. If he had expressed his desire to join the Knightly order in the Capital, who would have refused him?
Krais would have created a whole new order of Knights for him if necessary, and Asia had even subtly suggested that he don a red cape.
The Marquis of Octo, who had since become a Duke, had been even more direct.
"How about staying in the Capital and joining the Knightly order? I believe it would be a great opportunity for you."
If the Marquis of Visar had tried to establish a connection with him as a sponsor, the Duke of Octo had outright wanted him to become a new pillar of the land.
Encrid had calmly turned down all those offers.
At the time, all he wanted was to return home and swing his sword in peace, morning and night.
"Just because."
Knowing he needed to provide a more detailed explanation, Encrid added,
"I simply followed where my heart led me."
If he were to delve deeper, it was because he couldn't see the kind of Knight he wanted to be. Encrid hadn't found any chivalry.
He had seen the Knightly orders in the Capital, but was there any true chivalry in them? Honor? Loyalty? Righteousness?
Help the weak.
Raise your sword and fight for justice.
A battlefield where children don't fight.
The battles of those who guard your back.
The virtues they once called noble, now ignored.
Encrid didn't feel the need to don a red cape in order to walk the path he desired.
This was the underlying reason for his comment that he had just followed his heart.
"The Knightly order I wanted didn't exist there."
Realizing his explanation was a bit lacking, Encrid quickly added a few more thoughts, as if listing them casually.
It wasn't a long explanation, but the meaning was conveyed clearly enough.
"Such lofty dreams."
Rem would have made a comment like that.
But Jaxon merely furrowed his brow in response to Encrid's words.
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