The man seated in the chair saw two figures kneeling quietly beside the table.
They were the ones tied up without sleep the night before.
Both avoided eye contact, keeping their heads bowed and their eyes shifting nervously.
‘Frog got to them. Idiots.’
The man wasn't watching Encrid but rather Frog.
It was clear these two relied on Frog to act out recklessly.
They were no different from the ones who had attacked the night before.
They had no idea who they were up against. People confined to their small worlds often failed to see the broader picture.
The Cross Guard Guild was too busy with internal strife.
Everyone was preoccupied with personal gain, ignoring the outside world.
There were even widespread rumors that the lord was trying to secede from Aspen.
Could such a thing be possible? Who knows. It was just idle speculation.
These people were like birds and frogs trapped in a small space, blind to anything outside.
Was it mere ignorance, or had someone deliberately engineered this?
Encrid couldn't care less. If someone came to him, only their purpose mattered.
"You're here to fight, aren't you?"
Encrid glanced toward the kitchen as he asked. It was still before breakfast.
Coming before food was served made them seem unusually diligent.
Or perhaps they'd come straight from gambling all night.
The reek of tobacco smoke mixed with the stench from their mouths.
Judging by their greasy hair, bathing wasn’t their hobby.
This one was worse than Dunbachel.
"Are you swaggering because of Frog?"
The smelly one spoke, raising his left hand, and Frog entered barefoot from outside.
"You haven't killed them yet?"
Frog said immediately.
The Frog who entered had peculiarly red eyes, which fixed on Luagarne.
‘Frogs aren't satisfying to slice.’
That thought passed through, but Frog’s thoughts remained inscrutable.
Regardless of Frog's presence, Encrid continued.
"Let's eat breakfast before we fight."
This was a habit born from dealing with ferrymen.
To communicate with them, one had to state their intent clearly, no matter what the other said.
Encrid wished he had time to reflect and train on what he'd learned from the ferrymen, but it was tedious.
"Shall we?"
The seated man stood up. Encrid's insight foresaw his next move.
He would push the chair aside and draw his weapon to stab.
The man behind him, quietly observing, had already shifted slightly sideways, preparing for a coordinated strike.
The one moving outside the line of sight had a well-used axe hanging at his waist.
He had already placed his hand on the axe while moving his foot.
The intent was obvious.
‘How should I respond?’
The question concluded instantly in his mind. These were people who killed without hesitation.
Encrid decided he didn’t even need to draw one of his daggers.
It was a precise judgment.
Smack! Ting!
The man in the chair shoved it aside and drew his sword to stab.
Simultaneously, the one with the axe swung downward in a chopping motion.
Decent coordination, at least.
Their ambush skills weren’t bad, but they were still no match for even the basic training of the Border Guard Reserve.
‘They’d improve just by completing basic drills.’
With leisurely thoughts, Encrid moved.
Though his movements were slower than theirs, his superior strength and reflexes made him appear faster.
He reached out and grabbed the blade with his hand.
The difference in strength was evident.
One held the sword tightly with both hands, while Encrid gripped the blade with just four fingers and a thumb.
Yet, the sword ended up in Encrid's hand.
With a slight tug, the sword-wielding man let out a short gasp as the weapon was wrenched away.
Encrid then struck the man's head with the guard of the shortsword.
Thud!
The guard became a deadly weapon, leaving a hole in its owner’s skull.
Naturally, no one could survive with a hole in their head.
"Urgh."
The sword-wielding man fell to the side with a groan.
The axe-wielding friend met a similar fate.
While Encrid's left hand seized the sword, his right took the axe and returned it to its owner, embedding it into his skull instead of his hand.
Both died simultaneously, and the sound of their collapse seemed like one impact, showcasing Encrid’s efficiency.
Their blood pooled and spread on the floor.
In the meantime, red-eyed Frog had also moved.
However, this Frog had long forgotten his natural talents, consumed by bloodlust.
He was a mad Frog, reveling in the thrill of slicing and slashing.
Such degenerate Frogs weren’t unheard of.
Corruption knows no bounds.
Luagarne noticed the weapon Frog had drawn—a loop sword.
Its blade was short but serrated like a saw.
Grrrrr!
The weapon made an unpleasant sound as it slid out of its leather sheath.
This weapon was purely for the satisfaction of cutting flesh.
Frog stomped the tavern floor with a bang, sending splinters into the air as he charged at Luagarne.
His intention was clear: to close the gap and slice Luagarne wherever he could.
Frog believed his advantage lay in attacking a seated opponent.
Luagarne, still seated, read Frog’s trajectory and drew her whip.
The whip cracked through the air and coiled around Frog’s neck.
The momentum of his charge was halted.
Grrrk!
Even with the whip around his neck, red-eyed Frog only puffed out his cheeks.
As the whip tightened, Frog stopped and gripped it with his free hand.
The barbed whip bit into his palm, drawing blood.
Yet Frog ignored the pain and pulled, straining against the whip.
Frogs prided themselves on their strength, confident in breaking such restraints.
Given time, it wasn’t impossible.
But naturally, his hopes were dashed.
While he struggled, Luagarne propelled herself forward with a kick.
Her chair toppled backward with a soft thud.
Her movements were smooth in contrast to the destruction Frog left behind.
Between the two Frogs stood a supporting pillar.
Feigning a move to the left, Luagarne darted right and thrust her sword.
A simple feint, yet a veteran's maneuver.
Red-eyed Frog swung to block to the left, only to miss.
Luagarne’s loop sword pierced through his abdomen.
She drew the blade upward, slicing through flesh and ribs to reach the heart.
Crack!
His chest armor split under the pressure of the blade.
A foolhardy Frog, he had no armor to protect his abdomen.
His chest guard, sturdy against frontal attacks, failed to shield against this upward slice.
"Guh!"
With a guttural cry, Frog's tongue lolled out as blood poured from his mouth.
His heart split, causing blood to gush out.
Luagarne wiped the blood off her blade using Frog's clothes.
Where had such a degenerate Frog come from?
It must’ve drifted into the city, drawn by its decaying atmosphere.
Rotten meat attracts flies.
Regardless, splitting the heart left no sense of satisfaction.
"It's a mess."
Luagarne remarked.
The phrase, which last night referred to the water’s taste, now applied to the entire city.
Encrid agreed.
"Clean it up."
At Encrid’s command, two members of the Awl Brotherhood, now serving as cleaners, moved swiftly.
They disposed of the bodies and scrubbed the floor with water, but the stench of blood only grew stronger.
During this, a startled waiter served food with a pale face.
Even amidst death, one must eat in war.
Why should this be any different?
Encrid dipped white bread into a puree made of beans but paused when he noticed the trembling lips of a pale-faced child.
The child seemed to have much to say, so Encrid scrutinized him from head to toe.
In mere seconds, he discerned much about the boy.
What seemed trivial to most stood out sharply to Encrid.
A fleeting glimpse of unease, a subtle retreat, a complexion different from when advised to flee earlier.
When Encrid continued to silently observe, the boy turned ashen.
"Please spare me."
The boy whispered, the plea meant for Encrid.
Why? Likely because he had tampered with the food.
Seeing the use of sleeping agents, there could also be poisons.
"I did it. Kill me instead."
The innkeeper spoke up, stepping forward empty-handed.
Perhaps they were father and son?
Encrid pondered while observing the terrified boy and innkeeper.
‘They’re fast with their schemes.’
When did someone coerce them into poisoning the food?
The commotion was just last night.
In barely a single night, there had already been two ambushes, and now poisoned food appeared.
The hospitality was excessive.
Or had they prepared for this in advance?
Encrid felt as though malicious eyes were watching him from behind all these schemes.
As the thought struck, he genuinely felt as if something were observing him.
Trusting his instincts, Encrid flung the fork in his hand.
Thwack!
With a pinging sound, the fork flew and embedded itself in a dark corner of the inn wall, trembling slightly.
The innkeeper closed his eyes and pulled the child into his arms.
Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead and face, revealing his tension.
"What are you doing all of a sudden?"
Luagarne asked.
"I thought there was something there."
Encrid glanced again at the wall where the fork had stuck.
There was nothing there.
In the meantime, the child seemed even more terrified.
The innkeeper wasn’t much better.
Encrid stood and patted the child’s head gently before speaking.
"Nothing will happen. I doubt you'd even answer if I asked who made you do this."
If the Criminal Guild had coerced them, they would fear retaliation.
There was no point in pressing them further.
There were those who tampered with food, those who sabotaged sleeping arrangements, and those who sent assassins and Frogs to test one’s skills.
What awaited outside the inn?
The chances of encountering another scheme were very high.
Likely something more insidious than before.
"If you fight in the city, the odds of walking into a trap are high."
Luagarne spoke as if she could read Encrid’s mind.
This Frog, too, wasn’t inexperienced when it came to roaming the continent.
Judging by the circumstances, Luagarne knew all she needed to know.
"This might warrant a clean-up."
Encrid responded, unconcerned by the danger Luagarne implied.
They had set out to capture cultists, only to find trash piling up ahead of them.
As Encrid prepared to leave, the inn door creaked open with a jolt.
It was the administrator, accompanied by two more guards than the previous day.
"I heard you were attacked last night. These fools."
The administrator appeared hurried yet composed, both calm and troubled, a demeanor that seemed awkward to Encrid.
"I apologize for the mess in city security, it’s all the fault of the Sacred Cult of the Demon Realm."
The administrator repeated himself.
Before the administrator’s arrival, Encrid had felt the sensation of being watched by something ominous.
Strangely, that feeling vanished the moment the administrator entered.
It was peculiar.
"Arrest these two."
The administrator commanded, and two soldiers in gambeson grabbed the two guild members turned cleaners.
"You’ll be hanged."
The administrator declared coldly as he passed the two.
"You’re well-informed."
Encrid finally spoke, asking how they knew about the incident.
"Some soldiers were watching. I told them to report immediately, but... sigh, I apologize once again. It’s shameful that such an incident occurred despite my personal involvement."
The administrator spoke as though genuinely regretful.
Encrid nodded.
He didn’t bother pointing out that the Criminal Guild seemed to think the administrator was a fool.
"It seems the situation is becoming complicated. I’ll escort you to the manor."
Before Encrid could respond to the administrator’s offer—
"No, you’ll have to come with me."
A different voice interrupted from outside the door.
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