"Should I call you a lord or a castle master...?"
It started with the fruit vendor.
"The castle master is Graham, and I’m the captain of the Mad Knights."
Encrid replied casually, familiar with such conversations.
"Well then, Captain, have one of these."
The fruit vendor said slyly, handing him two plums. Encrid ate one and passed the other to the Ragged Saint.
The saint blinked his clouded eyes as he took the plum, biting into it.
Crunch.
The sweet and tangy flavor spread through their mouths, with a rich aroma filling their senses. It was a well-ripened plum.
"Sweet."
Encrid said.
"Indeed."
The Ragged Saint agreed. This luxury was thanks to the large orchard established inside Green Pearl.
There was a reason why nobles near the kingdom’s capital, Naurillia, managed orchards; access to fruits like these was worth it.
As they passed through a market where vendors had gathered, a peddler called out to them.
"I’m with the Roguefried Trading Company now."
He wasn’t an ordinary merchant. The one who spoke was a giant who had once identified himself as a traveling peddler.
Encrid showed him the cloth-wrapped gloves on his hands.
"This is sturdy stuff."
It was a fabric-reinforced glove with thin leather lining, made from materials purchased from the giant.
"It should be. I don’t sell subpar goods."
The giant replied, his voice unusually booming. The Ragged Saint simply observed from the side, without interrupting.
"What are you selling today?"
Encrid asked.
"These."
The giant said, displaying various items, including talismans and ominous rings.
"This ring is cursed, it gives you nightmares every night but prevents one unlucky event."
He explained, drawing the attention of passersby.
Encrid examined the items, sensing a faint aura that hadn’t been noticeable before.
‘Probably thanks to training with Esther.’
He thought.
His experience with fighting magical entities like the Walking Fire also helped.
As the giant described, the ring emitted an aura. Looking closely, a faint dark mist seemed to swirl around it, something only Encrid could see.
In remote areas of the continent, smaller frontier villages often emerged.
Some villages were lucky enough to be free of monster attacks, while others survived by fending off occasional beasts.
Villages that endured such attacks often had dealings with local sorcerers or witches. This ring likely came from one of those places, it wasn’t hard to guess.
As expected, the giant briefly revealed the ring’s origin, speaking more than usual. For some reason, he was being unusually friendly.
‘Has he always been this detailed?’
Encrid wondered.
The giant wasn’t typically this talkative.
"It’s not for me."
Encrid said plainly. If he needed something like this, he would have asked Esther.
"I figured."
The giant replied.
"Then why the explanation?"
The giant, seated on the ground, leaned forward and whispered.
"So others could hear."
Because of his appearance and size, people often avoided him, making business difficult. Seeing Encrid, he took the opportunity to draw attention.
‘A real merchant now.’
Encrid thought.
But he knew the giant would never compromise his principles for business.
"You’ve gotten better at this."
Encrid whispered, and the giant nodded.
"Off you go now."
"Alright, I’m going."
As they continued, Encrid encountered several familiar faces. The Ragged Saint noticed his close relationship with the innkeeper at the city’s central inn.
"What brings you here? If you haven’t eaten, have a bowl before you go."
The innkeeper, named Allen, dreamed of surpassing Vanessa’s famous pumpkin soup. Recently, he had been serving chicken soup, which he advertised as the same recipe his grandmother used to make when she had a cold.
His business was doing well because of it.
Though it wasn’t as popular as Vanessa’s pumpkin soup, pie, or juice, Allen was content with his current success.
The development of trade routes and the establishment of the commercial city Roguefried had brought prosperity to the Border Guard.
Allen had benefited greatly from this.
‘And with farming in Green Pearl too.’
The saint thought.
Though his eyesight was poor, the Ragged Saint could observe many things when up close, especially within this community.
He once described himself as someone who focused more on the small branches than the main trunk.
He cared more about the daily lives of the people than their city’s political standing.
‘Very prosperous, indeed.’
To the saint, the city seemed bountiful.
The absence of skirmishes with Aspen had contributed significantly. Without the threat of monsters, the vast plains were now fertile farmland.
Periodic patrols along the Pen-Hanil Mountains and the extension of the Stone Road to the west had also played a role.
All these factors had led to the city’s current wealth. But where there’s light, there’s always shadow.
The Ragged Saint understood this reality all too well.
And that shadow had just appeared. A Frog with an unusual white scar on his neck, a rare sight, since Frogs had regenerative abilities—was approaching them.
Was he here to pick a fight? Or had he been tempted by the jewelry adorning the saint?
Perhaps he was a bounty hunter targeting the saint.
‘Or maybe an assassin sent by the Holy Nation?’
It wasn’t any of those.
"It’s been a while."
The Frog said, recognizing him.
Encrid observed him for a moment before responding,
"…Melon?"
"It’s Maelrun. Have you already forgotten my name?"
"Oh, right. Maelrun."
Despite having his name mispronounced, the Frog showed no signs of offense.
The Ragged Saint found this surprising, but to Maelrun, it was natural.
Even if he attacked, he knew he’d die with a single slash. Forgetting his name was a minor matter.
Maelrun was a Frog, and as such, he lived by his desires. A small victory or sense of accomplishment was enough to satisfy him, and he was content with his current life.
Following Maelrun, a bald man appeared, a thug who looked like he ruled over the back alleys.
He emerged from a dark, narrow alley between tightly packed houses. The sunlight reflected off his bald head.
"Captain."
He said.
He, too, approached and called out to Encrid.
"Gilpin."
Encrid immediately recognized him.
"Why do you remember his name and not mine?"
The Frog muttered. Not that anyone paid him any attention.
"Is there something you’re looking for?"
Gilpin asked.
"No, just taking a walk."
Only then did the bald man’s gaze briefly pass over the Ragged Saint, who wore enough valuables to tempt any pickpocket. But there was no greed in his eyes.
The Ragged Saint couldn’t see well, but his hearing was sharp.
Though not sharp enough to use echolocation, he could hear distant whispers with ease.
His heightened hearing also developed into a sense that allowed him to observe people intuitively.
As he observed Encrid and Gilpin, he sensed no malice or greed from Gilpin.
Gilpin looked like someone who worked for a crime guild, or something close to it.
Years of wandering had honed this instinct in the saint, but Gilpin had no interest in him.
"Everything good?"
Encrid asked.
"With Vengeance as the chief of security, what could go wrong?"
Despite the remark, Gilpin was busy with many responsibilities. Krais had assigned him to oversee the information guild and maintain order in the city.
As a result, Gilpin had lost weight, and his cheeks had hollowed out.
Such was the typical consequence of working under Krais.
Still, the rewards weren’t bad, and Gilpin was satisfied with his current life.
These were things the Ragged Saint couldn’t fully comprehend. The current situation felt peculiar to him.
‘Strange. Very strange.’
After wandering the city for a while, Encrid headed toward the barracks, where tents had been set up.
The Ragged Saint followed, silently observing before suddenly speaking.
"I care for war orphans. Would it be possible to establish a monastery in this city for that purpose?"
It could be a difficult request, but after recently relocating the fairy city, this was no challenge for Encrid.
"Go ahead."
He agreed without hesitation.
"It could be expensive."
"Aren’t you planning to sell all those valuables you’re wearing?"
"Can’t you pitch in a bit?"
"Sure. You know Krais, right? The guy with big eyes who pouts when you ask for money. Go talk to him."
"What if I were the kind of person who buys and sells children for a few coins?"
"Then why would you want to build a monastery to care for them? You’d just sell them off. There are already plenty of insane groups trying to create saints and saintesses."
‘What’s with this guy?’
The Ragged Saint blinked his cloudy eyes several times.
He clearly knew how to think, and his words carried barbs.
"There are plenty of victims thanks to scumbags like that."
"Then do something about it."
"That’s beyond my ability."
"Go ahead and build your monastery."
Their conversation bounced back and forth, and the Ragged Saint found it oddly enjoyable.
Within their condensed dialogue, everything they needed to say had been conveyed.
‘What is this?’
The Ragged Saint had come to see the nest Audin had chosen. He knew that, despite the thorny path his foster son walked, Audin wasn’t someone easily influenced by others. He also knew that Audin carried inner scars.
It would be a lie to say he wasn’t proud of his son for overcoming everything and standing strong.
But one thing puzzled him, why didn’t Audin return to the temple and instead chose to stay here?
‘Encrid.’
He was the answer. The saint had heard many stories about him during his time here.
Seiki had spoken of the man who had saved him.
Others spoke of someone who never wasted a single day and worked tirelessly.
Still more told stories of a Knight who preached peace and slew demons.
The Ragged Saint only knew of Encrid’s present, not his beginnings, and assumed he was a man with great aspirations. But seeing him in person was different.
He was unlike anyone the saint had ever met.
‘What makes him different?’
His thoughts, his determination, and the way he walked, all of it.
"What is it that you want?"
All his questions condensed into this one. Encrid didn’t need time to think before answering.
"Right now, I want to master using my techniques as naturally as flowing water."
"What?"
The Ragged Saint was confused and asked for clarification.
"I’ve developed a system, but I’ve only recently acquired a specialty. I want to advance beyond it. But since I lack natural talent, I have to take things one step at a time. So for now, yes, mastering the Flowing Sword is my goal. Not like Fluid Sword—more like Flow, as in a stream that never stops, not a well that doesn’t dry up."
The Ragged Saint couldn’t understand a word. Though he had trained in his youth, he wasn’t on this level.
"What?"
"You’ve been helpful. Audin said you’d be, and he was right."
Encrid continued as though intoxicated by his own thoughts.
"Huh?"
"Hmm?"
"Teaching Seiki wasn’t for nothing, after all."
By the time they reached the barracks, Encrid had already drawn his sword and begun training. Talking to him now seemed pointless, he was fully immersed in his own world.
The man known as the Ragged Saint, who planned to build a monastery for orphans and wore valuables for donation purposes, stood silently watching Encrid train.
Moments later, Audin approached and asked,
"Did you have a good outing?"
After a brief pause, the saint asked,
"What’s wrong with him?"
"Did something happen?"
"He started talking about streams and then began swinging his sword."
"Oh, that’s normal for him."
"Normal?"
"Yes, that’s just how he is."
The saint, who had spent his life wandering, meeting, and helping people, realized a simple truth.
‘Madmen.’
Now, he finally understood why the Knight Order was named the Mad Knights.
No comments yet. Be the first to leave a review!