Why is it called the Mad Knights?
When a merchant, acting as a peddler, asked the question, his companion immediately answered.
"Because there are some truly mad people in it."
"Is it okay to talk like that?"
"Well, it’s already a story that’s spread far and wide."
At the entrance of the bustling market in the heart of the Border Guard, two peddlers were chatting.
The one with thin lips and a relatively loose tongue was doing most of the talking.
Judging by the content, one might think they were half-mad themselves, but in truth, there was no great secret in what they were saying. It was already an open secret.
After all, isn’t it human nature to badmouth people behind their backs, even the King himself?
"Can I hear more about it?"
Suddenly, a new voice chimed in, and the merchant, caught off guard, tensed up and hunched his shoulders, squinting at the source of the voice.
In his line of sight stood a white-haired, blind old man, leaning on a cane. His back was slightly hunched, his face was lined with deep wrinkles, and he gripped the ground with his cane as he leaned in.
"What is it?"
Startled by the silent approach, the peddler flinched momentarily but relaxed when he saw the old man’s appearance.
"Why are you eavesdropping on other people’s conversations…?"
Mid-sentence, the old man handed over a silver coin, causing the peddler to change his attitude immediately.
"It’s something everyone’s talking about anyway…"
The peddler began speaking while looking at the old man.
Seeing the blind man, he felt as though he’d be taking advantage of a helpless elder, so he stammered, promising to explain everything he knew as thoroughly as possible.
After all, if he hadn’t received any payment, he might have felt otherwise, but a true merchant should deliver value equivalent to the compensation received.
And so, he did.
"Alright, listen. There are five madmen in total."
“A madman who, after losing both parents to a noble at a young age, attacks any noble he sees, splitting their heads with an axe.They say he has a vicious temper, so if you come across him, you should be cautious. If you see gray hair—ah, no, wait.”
The peddler quickly corrected himself. It wasn’t appropriate to tell that to a blind man. After all, he couldn’t see.
The peddler mixed rumor and fact, talking on and on until his mouth felt dry.
His enthusiasm was higher than before, trying to make up for his earlier slip-up.
-A half-beastman hybrid who can tear people apart like a bear, a madman who prays for people’s forgiveness as he rips them to shreds.
-A blood-crazed swordsman, the youngest of the Mad Knights, who supposedly drinks blood every three days.
-And lastly, a perverted murderer who, after being abandoned by a woman, went mad and now finds joy in stabbing people in the back.
"But a rumor is just a rumor. When you actually hear the stories of those living in the city, it turns out things are a bit exaggerated."
In reality, while they might be a bit rough around the edges, none of them actually kill people for sport.
"Even if such rumors spread, it’s best not to badmouth them openly in the Border Guard, or it won’t end well."
The peddler figured he’d earned his silver coin’s worth. Anyone could learn this by asking around, but getting such detailed information wasn’t as easy as it seemed.
The old man didn’t look like a beggar, but he didn’t seem wealthy either. And being blind, it must have been hard for him to gather stories on his own.
"Well, you’re slightly mistaken."
As they were about to part ways, a rough-looking man approached them.
The peddler instinctively raised his hands defensively. The man looked as though he might throw a punch at any moment.
But whether or not the peddler raised his hands, the man spoke anyway.
"The axe madman? He’s just a real lunatic."
There was a weight to his words. The kind of conviction and deep emotion that only comes from direct experience.
It made every word feel profoundly meaningful.
The old man, with his clouded eyes, seemed to size up the approaching man. Despite not being able to see, his gaze somehow aligned with the man.
The man placed his hands on the peddler’s shoulders. The peddler flinched but didn’t push him away.
The heat radiating from the man’s palms seeped into his shoulders, despite the thick clothing he wore.
"Remember this: that guy is a genuine lunatic."
The man was one of the infantrymen under Rem’s command. Normally, he wouldn’t be outside the barracks, but Rem knew when to loosen the reins.
He had been granted a half-day leave.
Of course, this privilege was only given to those who showed exceptional skill in training.
Naturally, it was the kind of outing where even thinking about deserting or fleeing was out of the question.
"Run? Run if you dare. I’ll come after you. Whoever gets caught, it’s double."
What would be doubled? The training, perhaps. If not, then the beatings.
Rem said it without a hint of a smile, and the man knew then and there. He was thoroughly screwed.
Ah, life.
Having no choice but to make the most of his brief outing, he resolved to return feeling like a condemned man walking to his execution.
But when he overheard people defending that crazy bastard, he couldn’t help but intervene. He just couldn’t stand listening quietly.
"Hmph."
He retracted his hands with a sigh and turned away.
"A damned madman."
He muttered as he walked off, his steps heavy and weary. Even as the man turned away, the peddler found himself nodding in confusion.
"Not everyone likes them, it seems?"
The old man asked slowly.
"Ah, well, I suppose he’s a soldier. They say they all react like that at the start."
The peddler vaguely recalled hearing something similar from a guard and relayed it to the old man.
The old man nodded a few times in response, then turned his head in another direction, where he happened to make eye contact with a man wearing a hood.
Clouded eyes and blue irises seemed to meet, almost as if sizing each other up.
But the old man was blind. The hooded man found it curious and asked.
"Can you see?"
"I cannot."
"I see."
It was barely a conversation.
The old man nodded a few more times as if it were a habit.
"Well then, we’re busy."
The peddler left, and the old man, leaning on his cane, started walking.
He shuffled forward, brushing his cane along the ground as he moved, navigating through the bustling streets of the Border Guard, a city that had become the busiest in recent times.
Despite the throngs of people, he maneuvered skillfully through the crowd.
The hooded man, Encrid, watched the old man for a moment.
‘He walks well.’
There weren’t many who recognized him, but if someone did, it would cause a hassle, so he wore a cloak and hood whenever he came to town. But many others dressed similarly, so he didn’t draw much attention.
But that old man, whom he had just passed, had seemed to make eye contact with him, despite being blind.
He was a peculiar fellow.
At the same time, his presence felt strangely faint, and while his body seemed fit, upon a second glance, it wasn’t so clear.
Encrid intended to continue his walk once the odd old man was out of sight.
It seemed more sensible to take a quieter route rather than squeezing through the crowded areas.
At first, he planned to pass through the city center, but why was it so bustling?
"Look here! This leather—do you know what it is? Crocodile beast leather! What’s a crocodile, you ask? Have I been talking to someone who doesn’t even know that?"
"This stone is a lucky stone! Brought all the way from the West, blessed by dozens of sorcerers…"
"Firewood! Get your firewood here!"
Everywhere, people were shouting at the top of their lungs.
Between the buildings, stalls and makeshift tents lined the paths, with vendors proclaiming what they had to sell. This was a street where even carriages couldn’t pass.
Moreover, with new construction going on, building materials and members of the construction guild were hauling in their supplies, making it feel more chaotic than a battlefield.
Not that blood was being spilled or people were dying.
Though it wasn’t entirely without such incidents.
"You damn fool, didn’t I tell you this is my turf?"
"Is there even such a thing as turf here?"
Two grown men threw punches at each other. Their movements weren’t trained. It seemed like an argument that had turned into a brawl over selling space.
A young man, watching from behind, jumped in for no reason, escalating the situation into a real brawl.
And to Encrid’s surprise, the blind old man was making his way straight into the middle of the fight.
If he hadn’t been watching, he wouldn’t have noticed, but he’d been observing the whole time.
Encrid quickly weaved his way through the crowd, pushing and pulling lightly to make his way to the old man, grabbing him by the sleeve as he spoke.
"It’s better not to go that way."
If he couldn’t see, he’d be more reliant on hearing, but the market was so noisy it was likely hard to discern directions.
"You have a good heart."
The old man spoke without turning his head.
It was as if he knew exactly who had spoken to him and who was holding his sleeve.
Encrid found this oddly fascinating.
That was really the end of it. The old man changed direction, and as the commotion escalated, the guards rushed over.
Peeeeeeep!
Blowing a whistle, the guard shouted.
"Stop! That’s enough! Hey, you there, drop that rock! If someone dies, you’ll end up dead too. Unless you want to be dragged to the court, cut it out."
The guard, along with two other well-armed soldiers, efficiently intervened and quelled the fight.
There was no room for untrained brawlers to escalate things further.
After the fight ended, only pent-up anger remained.
"That damn outsider from another city."
"Oh yeah? So, you’re a true Border Guard local, huh?"
The two merchants were still fuming, as were the young men standing behind them.
Encrid recalled something Krais had mentioned a few days ago.
It was about the kind of conflicts that arise when people gather.
It was about factions and the conflicts associated with them.
One group consisted of those who had settled in the Border Guard earlier, while the other was made up of recent immigrants. Apparently, the two didn’t get along well.
There were cliques formed by people from the Capital, as well as groups of southern nobles from Naurillia who moved into the city.
Factions formed for survival, and the infighting among them was becoming a headache.
When a bunch of people cluster together in a confined space to chase profits, conflict naturally arises.
Some people didn’t care about factions at all, others took a step back and observed, while still others tried to exploit the situation for their own gain.
‘Not exactly scheming, but Vanessa would fit right in.’
Vanessa, a local, had recently expanded her inn, opened a new restaurant, and even started a cafe.
They say her pumpkin puree drinks are incredible, but Encrid still hadn’t tried one.
The line was always so long.
And it’s not like he could barge in and say, ‘I’m the Captain of the Border Guard’s Mad Knights.’
Sure, there were ways to get some, but Encrid was never particularly gluttonous.
He liked delicious food, but he wouldn’t go out of his way to chase it down.
In any case, whenever people gathered, various problems naturally arose.
And what he was witnessing now seemed to be one of those problems.
"Will it fester if left alone?"
Who knows? Encrid had never seen a city this developed before.
The Border Guard had grown at an almost insane pace, leaving neighboring cities in the dust.
Several master bakers from Martai had migrated here, and even people from the Aspen city of Cross Guard were moving to the Border Guard.
With such rapid urban development, oppressive lords had no place here.
So what happened?
Some of the nearby nobles naturally wanted to join Encrid's ranks under the Border Guard, but since he refused to take them in, they decided to become directly governed by the kingdom instead.
Which meant the Royal Family's power increased as a result.
Nevertheless, the gates of the Border Guard remained open, welcoming anyone who wished to enter.
According to Krais, the manpower needed for Green Pearl hadn’t even been fully supplied yet.
Encrid briefly recalled the conversation he had heard in passing and, after observing the guards maintaining order, made his way down a quieter street.
The recent events hadn’t exactly been pleasant, but he saw no reason to be upset over them.
Encrid left the bustling city center and navigated through a few alleyways.
In the past, the alleys reeked of filth, but recent urban improvements had widened and cleaned the narrow streets.
He noticed several members of the Gilpin Guild as he passed by.
"Where do you want this moved?"
A human man with a handsome, somewhat foxy face marred by three scars was carrying a box of fruits.
His appearance and clothing, along with the dagger at his waist, suggested he was a member of the Gilpin Guild.
The dagger’s handle was marked with a black square insignia.
Recently, the guild had established a new emblem that all members carried with them.
These were the ones who protected the city at night, serving alongside the standing army of the Border Guard to maintain order.
As Encrid entered the alley, the more perceptive guild members briefly glanced at him but didn’t interfere.
Upon exiting the alley, he found himself on a spacious, open street.
Encrid walked along the path, paved firmly with stone, and looked up at the piercingly blue sky.
It was a day without a single cloud. The kind of weather that made you want to keep your head up and stroll.
The wind was cool, and the sunlight was warm. Encrid walked slowly, his footsteps echoing lightly, neither rushing nor dawdling.
Doing your best in everything didn’t necessarily mean running and gasping for breath.
In that sense, this path was one worth walking.
Thanks for the Chapter Bro!!! :DD
Thanks for the Chapter.
Is it updated regularly? Also what is release schedule
Creo que he leído el manhwa, talvez lo esté confundiendo.. 🤔