Eternally Regressing Knight-Chapter 506 - Greetings

Chapter 506 - Greetings

Traveling from Martai to the East was not as arduous as Dunbakel had expected.

While it was inevitable to encounter magical beasts, their numbers were noticeably fewer than before.

This wasn't surprising. Guard posts had been erected from Border Guard all the way to Martai, with soldiers rotating shifts to both kill magical creatures and defend the posts. Interestingly, there was no rise in banditry, a common phenomenon elsewhere on the continent when magical creatures retreated. As travel increased due to the safer routes, bandits typically filled the void. However, this region was different.

"If you're caught stealing, you lose a hand. If you're caught robbing, you lose your head."

The Border Guard commander, now the lord of Martai, ruled with the same harsh measures as before. This ensured that criminal guilds couldn't gain a foothold in the region. Occasionally, Miellun, a Frog, would visit for entertainment, taking pleasure in brutally thrashing mercenaries and swordsmen causing trouble.

"If you think this is unfair, come to the Border Guard," Miellun would say.

Miellun's new hobby of venturing to Martai for a "stroll" stemmed from the increasing number of strong warriors in the Border Guard. It was even rumored that those who foolishly took up his challenge were forced into grueling training by the musclebound warrior. Dunbakel had heard similar stories along the way and nodded in agreement—they sounded credible.

As the Border Guard trained strong soldiers and invested heavily in arms, Martai followed suit.

"Shall we let the reputation of the Border Guard falter?"

Torres relentlessly drilled his troops. He refused to allow the famed Border Guard to lose its standing under his command. As part of their training, Torres assigned units to man the posts, and, as Krais envisioned, Martai began constructing its own outposts.

With safe roads connecting the Border Guard to Martai, merchant caravans frequented the path, transforming it into a bustling trade route. Martai, already a gateway city for rare relics from the East, flourished. The goods and artifacts from the East were valuable, and while the Rockfreed trading guild could have monopolized this trade, they wisely refrained, taking only what they needed and leaving the rest.

By not meddling with Eastern relics or peddlers, they created an environment where merchants could travel freely as long as they paid tolls. As a result, merchant guilds across the continent saw Border Guard as the essential trading hub, creating a boom in commerce.

Although Martai lacked distinct specialties and Green Pearl's fertile lands were still under development, the thriving trade naturally bolstered the flow of krona. This newfound prosperity explained the city's bustling activity.

Dunbakel found Torres as instructed by Enkrid and secured the necessary supplies.

"You're heading East? Dangerous. But you're with Enkrid, right? Do as you please," Torres remarked, adding, "Should I have a bath drawn for you?"

Dunbakel's disheveled appearance made it clear she hadn't bathed in days.

"No need. I'm leaving right away."

Still grimy, she departed Martai, heading eastward. The vast wasteland greeted her initially, and soon she left behind the areas devoid of magical creatures and bandits. New magical beasts appeared—such as a two-headed lizard, with one head creating sparks by snapping its teeth while the other exhaled gas. Together, the heads produced bursts of flame.

These creatures, remnants of the legendary fire-breathing salamanders that once descended upon the continent, were considered a subspecies, aptly named flame lizards or, more crudely, double-headed lizards in some regions. They weren't common sights.

Killing magical beasts as she traveled, Dunbakel pressed on. The journey to the East was long, and as boredom set in, her thoughts began to wander.

"The Chronicles of Dunbakel's Journey to the East."

Perhaps she could craft a tale of her exploits. A subtitle like The Tales of Bees Drunk on Flowers came to mind. Everyone, including Enkrid, would inevitably fall for her charms.

"Should I leave Rem out of it?"

He was married, and Ayul was a kind soul who had once taken care of her during her stay in the West.

On the way to the Eastern frontier city, Dunbakel narrowly escaped death twice—a long yet short tale in itself.

When she finally met the ruler of the East, Mercenary King Anu, his first words were:

"Hey, is that bastard missing his fingers? Why hasn't he replied to my letters?"

Anu was complaining about Enkrid's lack of response to his letters. Warm greetings were absent, but that hardly mattered. Had she ever been welcomed warmly?

"Not my problem," Dunbakel replied indifferently.

The king eyed her.

"Why are you here?"

"To relax."

Her casual remark made the king's attendants tense. Was this half-witted beastkin mocking them?

Dunbakel, undeterred, declared confidently, "Take care of me."

***

Meanwhile, Krang was fed up with politics. Look at the current situation:

"It seems there are many eyes on Enkrid," someone said.

"Why? Are they worried I'll take their land and give it to Enki if we get along?"

The Marquis of Okto chuckled.

"What can you do? Strengthening the monarchy makes nobles uneasy."

Krang drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair. Why did leeches always resurface, no matter how many he eradicated? Like summer mosquitoes, these pests kept appearing.

Some landed nobles from the frontier grumbled about Enkrid's territory being too large, with a few even threatening to seize parts of it by force.

"Are they mad?"

If they wanted to died trying, so be it. Krang dismissed their complaints, warning that any damage from armed conflicts would be their responsibility. Some nobles, perhaps driven by a suicidal urge, agreed.

Of course, meddling from neighboring nations also played a role in stoking these flames. But what more could be said to those hell-bent on their doom?

"Well, it can't be helped. Aspen seems restless, don't they?"

As autumn began with seasonal rains, Krang looked out at the leaves slowly turning red.

"We're monitoring all routes and gathering information. My judgment is that, yes, they're preparing for war," replied the Marquis of Baisar, seated beside the Marquis of Okto.

Across the table, Marcus Baisar ate quietly. It was both a breakfast meeting and a feast, albeit a modest one with steak, roasted broccoli, and mashed potatoes. Krang despised waste, a sentiment born from his childhood, witnessing people starve to death across the continent.

He believed that reducing the royal table's extravagance could save dozens, even hundreds, of lives. While some nobles disliked this approach, seeing it as an encroachment on their privileges, Krang didn't punish them outright. Instead, the royal family led by example, fostering a culture of responsibility and care for the people.

Still, dissent persisted—complaints about his favoritism toward Enkrid, inadequate knight training, and so on.

And now Aspen was making its move. Should they pull knights from the southern border to fight? Could they afford to divert troops from Oara? Knights would be critical in the upcoming war, which would undoubtedly escalate beyond skirmishes. Aspen would stop at nothing to claim Green Pearl.

But what gave them such confidence?

If Krang were Aspen's king, he would bow his head and bide his time. Yet their actions suggested they had something to rely on. Perhaps, like Enkrid, they saw failure not as an end but as an opportunity to try again.

"Are you saying that if Aspen crosses the line, Enkrid should stop them using only the forces of the Border Guard?"

Some nobles were stirring up trouble, trying to undermine General Enkrid's authority. They were spreading rumors that he should fulfill his duty as the lord of a city built to guard against Aspen and as the overseer of the region. It seemed these people had no conscience left. Had they forgotten that he was hailed as the Hero of the Civil War and the Demon Slayer?

Well, perhaps the provincial nobles hadn't fully grasped Enkrid's achievements.

Even now, their unified voice was largely driven by these local lords.

Among them were those displeased with Count Molsan's territory being practically managed as a royal domain.

Some of these fools believed that parts of the count's land would become theirs once Molsan passed away.

Krang asked, and Marquis Baisar nodded.

"At most, they'll only need to hold out for a month before the royal forces can provide reinforcements."

These reinforcements might include knights.

Just a month—it would suffice to make it look like they were putting up a fight.

A façade, yes, but enough to show that the Border Guard was fulfilling its role and that Enkrid deserved his position.

"Just in case, I'm considering sending Viscount Andrew's troops. He should be of sufficient help."

Marcus gulped down a piece of meat and spoke.

Andrew was the lord of a city near the capital, one whose forces were rapidly growing stronger with royal support.

As Marcus suggested, he would indeed be useful. Krang nodded, realizing it was time to personally write another letter.

"Is that guy busy or what? Why hasn't he replied?"

Krang himself had sent over ten letters, yet there was no response from Enkrid. If he had returned, shouldn't he reply? Surely some time had passed since his return from the West.

***

"Does he not think at all?"

Or perhaps, despite being a skilled fighter, he was just not very bright.

Enkrid thought this as he read the Mercenary King's letter.

It urged him to send a reply, though the content wasn't particularly important.

Why was he so insistent on a response?

The Mercenary King might have been able to send letters through his own men, but for Enkrid to send a response from Border Guard, it would require at least a squad of soldiers.

Up to now, he had left replies with Martai, relying on Eastern messengers to deliver them back.

Timing had to align for any correspondence to succeed.

Enkrid had been preoccupied moving between the city of Oara and the West.

Yet this man grumbled about not receiving a reply?

Even if he didn't know the circumstances, it didn't seem like a matter that warranted urgent letters.

Enkrid meticulously sorted through the pile of correspondence that had accumulated in his absence.

Most were from the Mercenary King Anu and Krang, though a few were entirely frivolous.

There were letters professing love, some claiming to have fallen for him at first sight, and even ones from nobles suggesting meetings with their daughters.

Excluding letters from two kings, half were marriage proposals, a quarter questioned whether his reputation was deserved, and the remaining quarter were from merchants and organizations seeking his favor.

"Bribes seem to come pouring in too, huh?"

As Enkrid skimmed through the letters and penned brief replies, he asked Krais.

"Yes, quite a bit. Would you like some?"

"No."

He didn't need anything.

While he planned to buy a new set of armor, he could easily tap into Krais's funds if necessary.

In fact, custom gear, including gambesons, chainmail, and plate armor, had already been prepared for him.

Among them, one gambeson was dyed a deep navy blue with a golden sword embroidered on it.

Whoever had designed it seemed to have left their sense of aesthetics in some abyss.

But it was sturdy—lined with the fur of a wolf-turned-monster and stuffed with owlbear feathers.

A bit heavy, but not unmanageable.

After drafting and organizing responses, Enkrid donned his armor, strapped the sword Aker to his side, and secured three throwing knives to his chest.

He stepped out of his modest office, and Krais asked, "Where are you headed?"

"To pay a visit."

"To whom?"

"A noble."

Krais immediately understood what Enkrid intended.

There was a noble who had sent clumsy assassins after him and frequently caused trouble.

This noble's domain lay between the Border Guard and Count Molsan's territory.

It wasn't a small estate, but neither was it especially powerful.

Recently, the noble had adopted a son, claiming the boy had been trained by a martial arts master who now resided in the estate.

Ever since, the lord had grown increasingly audacious, speaking as if parts of Count Molsan's lands rightfully belonged to him and dismissing Enkrid as a mere lucky swordsman.

"Are you going alone?"

Krais stood, prepared to follow.

He'd been armed and ready at his desk, clearly planning to leave.

Was there any need to bring more people?

Enkrid thought not.

This was no different from a casual outing.

Enkrid set off for the noble's estate.

Finding it boring to go alone, Rem decided to tag along.

"Let's go together. I'm bored."

Ragna dismissed the idea and went back to sleep, while Luagarne had been focused on training since returning from the West.

Fel remained somewhat down in the rain, while Ropord was his usual energetic self.

Deep nights of seasonal rain, conversations during downtime, and relentless training routines marked their days.

After several days of rain, clear skies and cooler temperatures finally arrived—ideal for walking and moving around.

"Are you planning to kill him?" Rem asked on their way out.

"Don't cut off his head straight away," Enkrid replied, as they began their journey at a leisurely pace.

The estate was too far to walk directly, and a carriage was offered, but Enkrid declined.

He wanted to walk, to clear his mind of the faint yet elusive clues about the path ahead, as well as any idle thoughts.

For about ten days, they took their time walking, training, and hunting along the way.

Eventually, they reached the noble's domain.

As luck would have it, the noble had just gone out on a monster hunt.

At the border of the estate, Enkrid encountered the noble, accompanied by his son and twenty retainers.

Enkrid stood there with only Rem by his side.

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