“Zaun is in the north. If you face the Pen-Hanil Mountains directly and head northeast, you’ll come across a small cave. Passing through it leads to the Starwatch Hill. From there, if you take a wide detour eastward, you’ll arrive at your destination. It’s near the Imperial Territory.”
Magrun spoke with a composed face, as if he hadn't coughed up blood just moments ago.
Encrid had wandered the continent as a guide before. His sense of direction was on par with the greatest Knights of the continent, like Ragna. Compared to an ordinary guide, he was at least skilled enough not to go hungry.
Even with such a sense of direction, Magrun's words painted a rough picture in his mind.
The path wasn’t as complicated as expected, which led to a realization.
‘Zaun’s obscurity isn’t because it’s hard to find.’
To be honest, the city where Encrid was born and raised was better hidden than Zaun.
‘They’re not concealing their location. They’re simply not raising their renown.’
Zaun does not seek to stand out. They have no interest in spreading their name or making themselves known.
‘No, perhaps there were people who wanted to, but someone must have stopped them.’
His thoughts kept branching out. Sometimes, his mind would instinctively sketch out the ramifications, dynamics, and patterns of events—one of the very talents that Krais had once praised him for.
To infer the unseen from what is visible—yes, that was a talent.
Encrid continued his reasoning through a question.
‘Why stop it?’
If he posed this question to Krais or Avnair, they would likely have an immediate answer. Even without detailed information, those two could probably infer the direction the Zaun family was pursuing.
And now, even Encrid found it easy to guess the reason.
"The Imperial Territory?"
Encrid asked as he bit into a roasted sweet potato he had procured from Aspen.
The texture crumbled easily beneath his molars. There was only a slight resistance before the sweetness and roasted aroma spread through his mouth.
Crunch!
Paired with pickled radish soaked in vinegar, the flavors blended into a harmonious burst in his mouth. It was delicious.
"I told you, it's nearby. Zaun is close to the Imperial Territory but remains an independent city."
Magrun, who was also peeling a sweet potato, provided the answer.
He blew on it with a "hoo-hoo" before taking a bite, making it hard to believe he was the same man who had collapsed coughing up blood just days ago.
Just this morning, he had even sparred with Encrid. He seemed perfectly fine on the outside, and Ann confirmed it was nothing to worry about. This wasn’t Ann’s field of expertise, but she had nodded in agreement.
‘An independent city, huh.’
A powerful faction exists right nearby. If Encrid were a ruler, how would he perceive them?
‘A threat.’
Or an opportunity.
One could either absorb them or eliminate them. But the Empire had done neither.
Zaun does not live in hiding. Those who know of them also know their location.
‘And yet, they are left alone.’
There must be a reason why the Empire had no choice but to leave them be.
Strategically speaking, it's akin to giving one's opponent no reason to attack.
‘And at the same time, they’ve shown that a careless attack won’t end with just a minor wound.’
To eliminate them, the Empire would have to pour in substantial military resources. At the very least, they would lose an arm to achieve it.
So, they are left alone.
Encrid recalled something Krang had mentioned.
"The Imperial Territory is amusingly well-shielded. The Pen-Hanil Mountains act as a barrier on the central continent side. To the west, the Great Forest, where the Beast King resides, serves as another natural shield. Even the path leading in from the east is protected by a barrier. And that barrier is..."
Encrid hadn't paid attention to the end of that sentence, but now he had an idea of what it was.
Zaun.
They must be one of those shields.
With a screech, Grida dragged a chair closer and spoke.
"They claim to have no ties with the Empire, but some from our family who don't fit in end up becoming Imperial Knights. So, you can't say there's no connection at all. To put it precisely, it's a friendly relationship. And it has to be."
What happens when neighboring nations don’t get along?
Naurillia and Aspen were about to serve as a prime example.
An endless cycle of war.
"We’ll ride for a while, but eventually, we’ll have to continue on foot."
Magrun added.
Encrid nodded before turning his gaze.
The dining hall’s entrance was large enough for five Audin to pass through side by side.
According to Krais, the door had to be big to accommodate the movement of supplies.
Well, Knights do eat a lot.
They devoured food at an absurd rate. Though their numbers were small, their rations matched those of an entire company. It was to the extent that special wartime rations had been developed specifically for Knights.
Beyond the large doorway, Ragna was visible. Beside him stood Lawford.
As he finished his meal, Encrid overheard their conversation.
He wasn’t eavesdropping, he could hear them perfectly well just by sitting still.
"Lawford, don’t obsess over efficiency."
Both wielded wooden swords rather than real ones. Ragna spoke while casually swinging his weapon.
A Knight’s swing could turn even a rotten branch into a deadly weapon. Considering they could break logs barehanded, there was little they couldn’t do.
Ragna raised his wooden sword skyward into a high stance. He brought it down in a sharp strike but changed the trajectory just as it reached horizontal.
With a swift foot-crossing movement, he lunged forward.
It seemed simple enough, but it required the precise bodily control of a beastman.
Encrid recognized the essence of the technique.
‘Valen Mercenary Sword Technique.’
It deceives to gain an advantage. That is the core philosophy of the Valen Mercenary Sword Technique, and Ragna’s movements embodied it perfectly.
Lawford, seeing the sudden change in trajectory, tried to intercept it. He was certainly a skilled swordsman.
Barely managing to block the thrust, a loud clack! echoed as the two wooden swords clashed in midair.
‘A bind.’
A technique that entangles weapons together.
Ragna kept their swords locked, then stepped forward by crossing his feet once more, closing the distance.
Had Encrid been facing him directly, even he would have been caught off guard by the unpredictability of the move.
Ragna used the bind to push forward, tapping Lawford’s cheek with the hand holding his sword.
Tap.
There was no real impact. At least, not physically.
But the blow to Lawford’s pride? That was another story.
He hadn't been overpowered in strength or speed, nor had he failed due to inexperience.
Then why?
Lawford must have been mentally scrambling.
As Encrid watched, Ragna gave him one final piece of advice.
"Don’t confine yourself to fixed movements."
It was exactly what Lawford needed to hear. His eyes gleamed, he was breaking through his own limitations. Anyone could see it.
Step by step, even if only by half a step, he was moving forward. Ragna was giving him precisely what he needed at that moment.
And he didn’t stop there. Gone was his usual laziness. A different man stood there now.
"This time, I’ll teach you how to compress your muscles in an instant to deliver a slash. This is the Middle Sword Technique: Spinning Slash."
Ragna’s pace was so fast that Lawford struggled to keep up. A lazy man would never be this dedicated.
"He’s changed so much…"
Grida murmured while watching.
Perhaps it was Encrid’s influence. That thought crossed her mind. This man had that kind of effect on people.
Being around him could change someone. Even she, in just a few months, had come to enjoy the heat of training.
Encrid had a knack for making those around him move.
"Didn’t he say he left because he was sick of the sword?"
Magrun added, glancing at Encrid.
The very person who had turned a disillusioned genius into this stood right beside them.
How had he done it? Encrid finally spoke.
"What the hell is he doing?"
His tone was one of genuine surprise.
Grida and Magrun turned to stare at him.
Why are you surprised too?
Reading their expressions, Encrid responded.
"I don’t know. Seeing it like this is actually terrifying."
Zaun’s two representatives were left dumbfounded.
After finishing his training, Ragna wiped his sweat with a towel and entered the dining hall.
A truly unfitting sight. Sweating, dedicated to training, and even teaching others.
And not just Lawford. On his way inside, he encountered the fallen Clemen and said—
"Pick up your sword."
"…Huh?"
Clemen knew Ragna. Given how often he was in and out of the Knight's quarters, it was hard not to.
Yet, her surprise was evident.
To be honest, this was the first time she'd ever spoken with Ragna. The man usually ignored calls, brushing them off as a nuisance.
Caught off guard, Clemen instinctively did as she was told, gripping and drawing her sword.
"Practice changing your grip at any time. But make sure to hold it firmly so you don't lose control."
Short but effective advice. Clemen, still dazed, saluted out of habit.
His expression seemed to ask, Why is he acting like this all of a sudden?
As Ragna took a seat for his meal, he addressed the three people staring at him.
"What remains in the place one leaves behind? It is something to ponder."
It was as if he had swallowed a Philosopher's Stone or drunk a Sage’s Blood. Ragna was acting all wise, which was extremely irritating.
It was as if Rem were pretending to be meek or Jaxon were putting on a cheerful act, saying the world was beautiful.
Encrid reflexively swung his water cup.
The liquid splashed out, landing neatly on Ragna's hair. Encrid felt the need to exorcise whatever had possessed him.
He had heard that sometimes this kind of shamanistic method worked on Rem. So, with genuine sincerity, he spoke:
"Begone, evil spirit."
A brief silence settled over the dining hall.
A training Knight, carrying another dish, hesitated and quietly stepped backward, seemingly deciding to pretend he neither saw nor heard anything.
"What are you doing?"
Ragna neither got angry nor questioned it. He didn’t shake his head, just looked at Encrid indifferently.
That look irked him. It was the gaze of an old soul looking at a childish fool.
With a little exaggeration, it reminded him of how Rem looked at him sometimes.
"When people suddenly change, they—"
Encrid lashed out in frustration at being provoked.
"Yes, they die."
Ragna calmly retorted. A short exchange, yet Encrid felt utterly defeated.
‘Has he grown?’
He wasn’t pretending not to understand, just maintaining an unshaken composure.
It was like the presence of a seasoned elder, clicking their tongue knowingly behind him.
"Captain, even the most careless person must be serious at times."
Magrun, who had previously engaged in endless, serious discussions on swordsmanship, now took a step back.
This bastard?
Encrid turned to glare at him, but this time, Grida spoke up.
"You can’t exorcise a spirit like that. You need a magic-infused sword or a similar tool… not just plain water."
It wasn’t like he didn’t know that. He swallowed his retort—no, had to swallow it.
If he tried to make excuses now, he would only fall further behind.
"Don’t torment my fiance, you three evil spirits."
Sinar entered at that moment, casually dropping her words.
With her fairy hearing, she had likely heard the entire conversation from outside.
Ragna, ever detached, simply nodded as if he already knew, his gaze as deep and unreadable as a bottomless lake.
Encrid could no longer argue over Ragna’s transformation. He genuinely couldn't grasp why he had changed.
But this wasn’t something to dwell on at the moment.
Given the right catalyst, people do change. That was just another simple truth of the world.
"Well, whatever the reason, it’s better than being lazy."
With that, he rose to go find Krais. As he moved, he noticed Krais narrowing his eyes in suspicion.
Before leaving, he had things to take care of, he wasn’t running away.
"Retreat is a valid tactic. I’ll hold the line. Go, my betrothed."
Sinar stood behind him with dramatic resolve, blocking his way.
Two days later, after wrapping up various estate matters:
"Return safely."
Krais generously provided Krona and a few steeds.
The recent success of the Green Pearl’s horse breeding was evident, these horses had sleek, gleaming manes and sharp, intelligent eyes.
"Alright."
During the past few days, Ann had learned to ride quickly.
Now, Encrid set out with the three from Zaun, Ragna, and Ann.
"On your way, please—please—leave that guy behind."
Rem, seeing them off, spoke with genuine concern.
Ragna turned his gaze toward him at those words. That deep, still gaze Rem had seen so often lately.
"What? You wanna fight?"
Rem bristled, but Ragna answered with words rather than hostility.
"Rem, I respect the life of a barbarian. You had no choice but to live through struggle. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have survived."
With that, Ragna turned and rode away.
Clop-clop-clop.
His horse trotted out of the training grounds.
"…Did he suffer a major head injury?"
Even Rem was baffled by the response.
"That’s not the way, Ragna."
Ann spurred her horse forward, following after him.
Curiously, despite being well-trained, Ragna's horse moved as if it had a will of its own.
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