The nameless crusader's question caught Lawford's ear. He glanced briefly at him, then stepped aside politely for the panther passing by, showing the symbol on his cloak to the crusader.
A single uneven line—the representation of a fortress and an iron wall.
"Do you recognize this?"
He asked as he showed it. It was a symbol hard to miss. If someone asked who was making the biggest waves across the continent recently, this would be the answer.
Even those who lived isolated in the mountains or fought cultists with closed ears couldn’t ignore such an event.
"The Border Guard?"
The crusader blinked, his expression surprised. As he said, it was indeed the emblem of the Border Guard.
There was another emblem that symbolized Encrid.
Lawford lifted his cloak to reveal it as well—a black geometric shape crossed by a single line.
It symbolized cutting through the Demon Realm and was the insignia of the Mad Knights.
One noble from Naurillia had once seen it and jokingly asked, "Does this mean ‘cut first and think later’?"
"Do you know this one too? It’s the only Knightly order of the Border Guard."
Despite their increased external activity and influence, Lawford wasn’t technically in the Border Guard’s domain right now.
He thought it was possible the crusader might not know it.
"The Knights of Madness?"
The answer came immediately. While their official name was ‘The Mad Knights’ people often called them ‘Knights of Madness’.
Well, the meaning got across, so it didn’t matter. In some places, they were even called the ‘Iron Wall Knights’.
Lawford himself had encountered this before.
"Yes, I’m Squire Lawford."
Lawford revealed his identity. Though his actual skill rivaled that of a Junior-Knight, he still chose to remain a Squire.
The title of Knight historically originated from nobility but had evolved to represent those skilled in wielding ‘Will’—a symbol of martial prowess.
The rank of Junior-Knight also carried symbolic significance, but it didn’t matter much to him now.
That didn’t mean he lacked pride or a sense of belonging. For him, being a Squire in the Mad Knights was enough.
Even if his Captain Encrid called him a Junior-Knight, he remained a Squire until he himself accepted it.
This showed that even Lawford had a streak of madness within him.
Lawford believed if he was a Squire, then he should introduce the others accordingly.
He extended his hand and said,
"This is Auxiliary Soldier Pel. Technically, there shouldn’t be ordinary soldiers in the order, but who cares? He’s just a soldier."
That was how he saw it. Pel, without a hint of humor, responded to the remark.
"Is a Squire below a soldier?"
"Maybe in some backwater wilderness, but not on this continent, soldier."
"Excuse me? A Squire talking back?"
As the two snarled at each other, a half-blood Giant with a kind expression chuckled and said,
"Rest assured, we don’t kill or hurt just anyone, Brother."
Though the half-blood’s imposing frame stood out, on closer inspection, she was quite beautiful.
Of course, no one was paying attention to her face right now.
"Of."
The nameless crusader of the Cult Extermination Order stood dumbfounded, his mouth agape.
"The Knights of Madness?"
They were the most talked-about group on the continent right now.
Why were they here?
What could they possibly gain by being here?
Everyone moves for their own benefit.
Even if the nameless crusader wasn’t like that, it was natural for others to be.
So it was only natural to wonder why they were here.
And it wasn’t just him, anyone would ask the same question:
‘Why are they here?’
Getting involved in this fight meant stepping into the Holy Nation’s civil war.
To make things worse, the crowd outside was yelling that Noah’s monastery was a den of demons, claiming divine revelation.
Even if no one believed them, the strong always dictated terms to the weak, and small monasteries couldn’t resist.
Even if these Knights helped the monastery survive, they could still be branded as minions of demons later.
They might bear the stigma long after the fighting ended.
Knowing this, the crusader had come here prepared to die.
"Before exterminating the cult, I thought about what I really wanted to do. It was to pray for the unjustly wronged."
With those words, the nameless crusader left the Order and stayed at the monastery.
Even so, he prayed under the moon every night and worked to steady his heart.
Knowing you’re walking into certain death doesn’t make it any easier.
Yet, seeing the nonchalant attitude of the Knights made his resolve feel insignificant.
"What is this calmness?"
They had entered so casually and wandered the city without a care.
They snarled at each other, hummed tunes, and the gray-haired barbarian complained about the cold while another asked where the main gate was.
The same one who had climbed over the wall himself.
He couldn’t understand why.
Then there was the panther walking beside them, and the man who wore their cloak but deliberately kept his distance.
Watching all this left him with an indescribable feeling.
Why did it seem so absurd?
The reason was simple: they lacked any sense of danger.
That made his own resolve seem meaningless. It was unsettling.
* * *
"I haven’t eaten for two days."
Noah said as he brewed tea with his bony hands.
Encrid took the tea and sipped it.
Thanks to Marcus, he had tasted fine tea before and could tell this wasn’t particularly expensive.
The fact that Noah mentioned going without food for two days made it clear the monastery was struggling.
Still, the tea was brewed with care, and Encrid appreciated the effort.
Marcus had once told him,
"Is expensive tea good tea? Not necessarily. Good tea depends on who you’re sharing it with and the moment itself. If you drink it with someone you dislike, even the finest tea tastes bitter."
Marcus had said this when his father took him for tea, complaining the whole time.
Remembering that, Encrid thought the tea he was drinking now wasn’t bad.
It was appropriately astringent, with a lingering fragrance and aroma.
Though made from dried flowers without any blending, leaving a rough aftertaste, it was good enough.
"I’m grateful you’ve come, but I think you need to understand the situation."
Noah spoke again, serious and sincere.
On the way here, Encrid had anticipated how people might react.
Most would have thanked him, then pleaded for salvation.
They might have knelt, made unkeepable promises, or begged for their own survival.
Or even pleaded to save some others along with them.
But there were rare individuals you couldn’t measure so easily.
Noah opened his dry, cracked lips to speak.
His lips were so parched they bled slightly, the condition of his mouth reflecting the dire situation.
It was a situation where even the slightest strain would make the cracks bleed profusely.
"We’ve already been marked as scapegoats. Staying here will make you equally labeled as children of demons. Not just by those outside who worship the Gray God but also by the Holy Nation’s people."
‘This world has so many madmen.’
That was Encrid’s thought.
This man worried about others in such circumstances? Noah truly was like this.
He had saved Seiki at the cost of losing one eye and one ear, knowing the end would be death after enduring torture.
"Looking back, Noah might be a little unhinged. Though I did exploit that."
Seiki had once remarked.
What Noah was saying now boiled down to this:
"It’s dangerous. This could be bad for you."
To Encrid, this made him seem like yet another madman.
Noah continued speaking while Encrid silently drank his tea, listening intently.
"If it’s possible, could you at least save the children? The monks and I have decided to remain in the monastery. Yes, it’s my past sins."
He spoke with sincerity, smiling faintly.
He could at least save the children, at least a few, and this gave him a glimmer of hope.
Could someone smile so brightly while asking for help to save a handful of lives in such dire circumstances?
Encrid stared at Noah.
After enduring such torture and suffering, you’d expect his gaze to be dull, but it wasn’t.
He had lost one eye, but the remaining one shone like starlight.
A mere monastery, a mere few dozen people.
Was it really a fight without gain?
How could there be no gain?
Among those who judged saints by their holiness, a true saint was worth saving.
Do not abandon your neighbor in poverty.
Do not push others aside to pick fallen fruit.
If someone lived by the words of the scripture completely, weren’t they a saint?
"Let’s be friends."
Encrid said.
"...Pardon?"
"Let’s speak casually. From today, let’s be friends."
Putting down his teacup, he shook the dust from his black hair.
Dust particles danced in the sunlight streaming through the window.
To Noah’s eyes, they looked like stars in the night sky.
It felt as though he was seeing light from Encrid.
Just as Encrid saw light in Noah.
Why had this man come here?
Even if asked, the answer wouldn’t be anything complex.
He came to save people.
If the ferryman saw this, he’d probably ask, "Off to save tomorrow again?"
And he wouldn’t be wrong.
Encrid saw Noah as someone upright, good, and necessary for the world.
That was all there was to it. Even if his actions seemed impulsive, he wouldn’t deny it.
"Let’s be friends."
Encrid repeated.
Noah, likely the older of the two, blinked, folded his hands politely, and nodded with a smile.
"Yes, let’s be friends."
Was it meant to console him? Even so, it brought joy.
And just as heroes had spoken for the Gods before, this time too, the hero spoke.
From the lips of one who bore light came the words,
"So now, it’s a fight to protect a friend. Now there’s a cause."
Being branded as demons was a possibility.
So what?
Both the Holy Nation and the Gray God’s forces might reject them, and the gathered army outside posed a real threat.
Yes, they knew that coming in.
"And you’ll still fight?"
Someone asked.
"That’s why we’re doing it."
Encrid thought to himself and stood up.
Noah had mentioned they hadn’t eaten for two days.
He couldn’t let that continue.
There were children in the monastery, some who had been exploited under the guise of sainthood and others who hadn’t.
To him, there were many.
Even considering the monastery’s circumstances, there were too many children here.
Noah had shown no discrimination toward people.
In the monastery were those who had sacrificed themselves to save saintess Seiki.
There were also those who had only just resolved to stand firm.
Fortunately, those who had betrayed them had already been dealt with.
"Oh, Seiki asked me to pass on her regards."
Encrid said as he stepped outside.
Seiki had said,
"Do you think I’d be any help if I went? I’d probably just get in the way. I’ll join when I’m stronger. Take care. Send my regards to Uncle Noah."
She was refreshingly straightforward.
Her words carried an unspoken confidence that if Encrid took action, failure was not an option.
That trust pushed him forward—a pleasant kind of push.
It was also the first time Krais had seen him leave without expressing anxiety.
Encrid felt a deep desire to repay their trust.
And to give Noah the same kind of reassurance he had seen on Seiki’s and Krais’s faces.
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