Even though the entire city was bustling with excitement, there were still guards on duty.
Guided by these guards, two carriages crossed the city and entered the middle of the marketplace.
There was no reason to stop them.
Officially, they were allies, and this was the entourage of one of the high nobles.
The coachman, with well-trained arms, descended from the carriage and opened the door. From the first carriage emerged a man with a splendid mustache.
âCount Molsen?â
Marcus muttered as he stepped forward to greet him.
âI heard about your victory and thought Iâd drop by while passing through.â
He was a distinguished figure, entirely unexpected to appear here.
Certainly not someone youâd expect to see in the middle of the Border Guard market.
The Squad leader, who was also the captain of the guards, hesitated to step forward and glanced around nervously. At Marcusâs signal, he quietly withdrew.
The strange aura exuded by the Count and his entourage sealed the lips of those around.
In the silence, the Countâs voice rang out. It was a voice that conveyed a strong sense of resolve.
A voice full of confidence, stemming from knowing his own authority.
âI was curious about the face of the hero of this battlefield.â
Count Molsen was bold. He was direct, which made him appear even more confident.
Despite being a high noble, he was not adorned in expensive satin or silk, but rather in thin cotton clothes, yet he still exuded a certain dignity.
Through his thin clothes, one could see his well-toned muscles, indicating he did not neglect his training.
Even though he was stepping on the muddy ground, made worse by the spilled drinks of excited people, he still carried an air that left no doubt he was a noble. He was an impressive man.
Encrid thought that he had never met someone who made such a strong first impression.
âWell? I heard you have a hidden gem, why not show it to me?â
The Countâs voice was filled with relaxed confidence. Marcus heard this but did not respond immediately.
The two seemed to know each other. Encrid watched the situation from a few steps away. Naturally, he heard the voice calling for him.
âShould I step forward?â
Or should I wait.
He glanced at Marcusâs face, which was unusually tense.
Wasnât this man smiling even during the war?
âThat guyâs nape looks like itâs begging to be split.â
Rem muttered beside him. Although his speech wasnât slurred, wanting to split open the head of a noble he had just met wasnât exactly normal.
Encrid gestured to Audin and Ragna to take care of the drunken Rem.
If left alone, he would cause a big scene.
And he intended to ease Marcusâs difficulty.
He had no intention of hiding himself.
The act of concealing him was Marcusâs doing, not his own choice.
Although he had gone along with it, everything was already exposed now.
So stepping forward was the right thing to do.
In fact, now that things had come to this, he thought it might be interesting to have Count Molsenâs swordsmen come to see him later.
He was quite fond of the strategy Krais had suggested.
Rather than seeking them out, let them come to him.
Moreover, no matter what aura Count Molsen exuded, he was not a threat to Encrid.
Even before âtodayâs repetitionâ, he had lived half his life on the edge, and after âtodayâs repetitionâ, he had truly lived on the edge, so when it came to courage and boldness, Encrid might be the best on the continent.
Thatâs why.
To Encrid, Count Molsenâs appearance seemed like an opportunity.
âI heard he likes to gather talented people.â
I heard that Count Molsenâs nickname is the Talent Collector.
Then, doesnât he have many skilled swordsmen under his command?
There must be many proficient spearmen as well. Among them, there would be martial artists, and those skilled with blunt weapons. No, there would be many.
There were also rumors that he had Knight-like figures under his command.
The Elite Slayer who had targeted Encrid in the previous battlefield was also under Count Molsenâs command, but Encrid couldnât know that.
He didnât even know the nickname of the deceased.
In any case, Encrid thought that if Krais spread the word, there might be some competitive spirits under Count Molsen, and among them, a few swordsmen might come to see him.
âWas your name Encrid?â
Just then, Count Molsen spoke again. Marcus should have stepped forward by now, but Encrid took a step in that direction first.
âStand back, soldier.â
The man who was acting as a guard blocked Encridâs chest with his arm. No, rather than blocking, it was more like a hit. It was a thud. It was rough and aggressive, almost like picking a fight.
Well-trained arms, the guy who had been playing the coachman.
His well-developed chest muscles were visible. When Encrid looked into his eyes, they were glaring fiercely.
âThis must be a challenge, right?â
It seemed reasonable to think so.
Moreover, the other guy hit first. So, wouldnât that be a reason to use violence on this side as well?
It seemed so.
There was a secret expectation that if he made a strong impression here, the level of those who would come to see him later would be higher.
Thus, Encrid didnât have any other thoughts.
In fact, it might have been due to the influence of Rem.
It might also be due to having had a few drinks.
So, thatâs why.
When he grabbed the arm blocking him and pushed, the other guy naturally put in strength as well.
In an instant, Encrid, pushing the opponentâs hand with his right hand, pulled it and kicked the opponentâs heel with his left foot.
Breaking the balance. It was a Valaf-Style Martial Art technique he learned from Audin.
The opponent was caught off guard. His kicked foot floated in the air, and his buttocks lifted, and he fell with a thud.
Whether Count Molsen intended it or not, it seemed like he deliberately tore through the curtain of silence he had created.
It felt even quieter around than before.
Among them, some soldier unconsciously let out a groan that sounded like âOh no.â
âThat must hurt.â
Feeling uncomfortable with the silence, Encrid said quietly, and the fallen manâs face turned red. As he tried to get up again with a fierce look, Encrid spoke.
âSeems youâve come to see me.â
He didnât even look at the guy he knocked down. He turned and looked at Count.
Count was also watching this place.
The coachman who stood up hesitated whether to swing his fist or not.
In the end, he couldnât throw his punch. His lord was watching the guy, wasnât he?
Encrid had shown force first, and the conversation followed. The small commotion naturally seemed to have vividly caught Countâs attention.
Since it wasnât unintentional to draw attention, Encrid could calmly look at Count.
His attitude and actions were truly unyielding.
It seemed half-crazy, but Count was busy silently observing Encrid.
Encrid did the same.
âHe has a nicely groomed mustache.â
It looked like he even had a barber take care of his mustache.
Marcus, who was behind him, was about to step forward but then closed his mouth.
Thanks to Encrid stepping in, he had no chance to intervene.
âAre you Encrid?â
Count asked.
âYes, I am.â
Encrid replied.
Their eyes met. Encrid looked at him calmly, and Count also met his gaze with a composed look, his blue eyes staring into Encridâs black hair.
Was it rude to hit the coachman upon the first meeting?
It was a sudden thought after causing the commotion.
Encrid didnât think much of it.
Well, wasnât there a kind of grudge?
Everyone knew that Count Molsen had secretly pushed a fork during the battle.
Outwardly, they couldnât question why.
There was no way the troops would have attacked without reason.
Moreover, as soon as Martai was pushed back, they all retreated to the rear.
Not a single one could be caught.
If they had pursued them, it wouldnât have been difficult to catch a few, but there was no need. Rather, it was said that they shouldnât.
Krais had said that capturing them would be a problem. He had added a very valid reason.
âWhat if we find out and question him? Would Count admit it and say he was wrong? Ridiculous! Wouldnât he rather accuse us of framing him? Then we might have to lower ourselves to him. Itâs better to just leave it unknown.â
The point is this: power is the law.
Marcus, predicting this, didnât bother chasing the ones who fled.
Anyway, Encrid judged that it wasnât a big deal to embarrass one of the guards, not even Countâs son.
âAre you okay?â
Count asked the coachman who was awkwardly standing behind.
âYes, Father.â
Hmm? Encrid reflexively wanted to scratch his ear.
He felt like he had misheard something.
âDo you start by disciplining my son upon the first meeting? Truly, your courage is formidable.â
Count said. Encrid realized there had been a big misunderstanding.
âWell, um. Yes. It seems that way.â
Silence again. It felt like he had carefully sewn the torn curtain of silence back to its original state.
âDid you think he was my son?â
This time, Count directly tore through the silence and asked.
âI didnât know.â
âThen now you do.â
Was he asking for an apology? Count turned fully and looked at Encrid.
There was a subtle glow in Countâs eyes.
What to say, Encrid felt a strange sensation seeing it. As if those eyes were peering into his inner self.
It was like they were not just looking at the surface but digging into the inside. It felt weird to describe it with words.
Should he apologize? Encrid knew it wasnât a difficult thing.
Whatâs so hard about saying a few words as a formality?
Itâs not like he was being asked to cut off a finger and offer it.
Yet, he oddly couldnât bring himself to speak.
Had his arrogance grown along with his increased skills? That wasnât it.
The man before him just ticked him off.
It felt like encountering a particularly cunning monster on a lonely road.
Just then, a cold air began to fill the surroundings as everyone watched the two closely.
âHaha, itâs fine. The fool got what he deserved.â
Count burst into laughter. It was a broad smile accompanied by a hearty laugh.
Encrid silently saluted, showing respect for Countâs generosity.
âI said itâs fine. I really just stopped by to see your face. The rumors were indeed true.â
Count said as he examined Encridâs face.
âThey said your face was exceptional, regardless of your skills. All the maidens in the vicinity must find it hard to sleep.â
âPerhaps all the maidens around here suffer from insomnia.â
Encrid replied with a Fairy-style joke to Countâs remark.
âHaha, this friend has wit.â
After a few trivial remarks, Count offered a sort of apology to Marcus regarding the recent events.
âThe monsters and beasts coming up from the south were formidable. Defending the territory is a duty entrusted to me by the King. It wasnât easy to fend them off. Thatâs why I couldnât help. The Martai bastards, that city was too deeply influenced by the east. Your contribution was significant.â
He acts as if he were the King. As Encrid thought this, he saw Marcus respond with his usual gentle smile.
âThe recognition of merit should come from our Lord and the rightful Queen of the country.â
You are not the King, you bastard.
It was as if Marcus was saying that.
âSee you around.â
Count Molsen seemed unaffected. No, he acted as if he hadnât heard at all and withdrew.
Though he stayed briefly, the atmosphere he left lingered for a long time.
As soon as he left, Marcus spoke with a twisted smile.
âThat despicable bastard.â
It was a remark revealing deeper contempt than what was typically shown toward the Border Guardâs noble faction.
âAre you on bad terms?â
âDo you know what that bastardâs dream is?â
Encrid didnât have to ask with his eyes, Marcus continued.
âUsurper, a throne usurper. Heâs completely insane.â
Encrid couldnât ridicule anotherâs dream, so he couldnât join in the criticism.
But
âItâs not like his eyes were weird because of his dream.â
Marcus seemed oblivious, but those eyes had really bothered him.
Thanks to Count Molsen, the atmosphere of the party had shifted. Although a few soldiers managed to revive some of the energy, it didnât last long and soon died down like a snuffed-out campfire.
The next day, a simple appointment ceremony was held.
âEncrid is appointed as the Company Commander of the Training Company!â
Marcus shouted from the podium in the parade ground.
Everyone seemed to take it in stride.
âDid he become the Training Company Commander because he trained hard?â
One soldier chattered, but among them, some with a good sense expressed unease.
Especially Platoon Leader Vengeance.
âNo way?â
That âno wayâ was a prelude to potential trouble.
After the appointment ceremony ended, Rem, who had been deep in thought, suddenly clapped his hands and spoke.
âThat bastard!â
What is it now, this guy?
Encrid realized again that Remâs mind worked differently from normal people and asked.
âWhat is?â
âThat Count bastard.â
âYeah, that Count bastard.â
âDidnât I tell you before?â
âYou talk a lot usually, Rem.â
Meaning, he had said many things.
âNo, I told you why I ended up here.â
What was it, Encrid recalled. He remembered hearing it.
He had said he beat to death a guy who was raping and murdering common women. And it turned out that the bastard was the son of a noble.
âIt was that bastardâs father.â
ââŠâŠCount Molsen?â
âHa, no wonder he looked familiar.â
Rem nodded with a relieved expression.
As Encrid entered the quarters, he thought.
âIt might be a coincidence, but.â
Did Count Molsen not recognize Rem?
If Rem had been on a wanted list, Count Molsen wouldnât have let it slide. Itâs uncertain. I donât know. Especially since Count Molsen seems like the kind of person who would not just have a hundred serpents hidden within, but also nurture a legendary nine-headed monster like the Hydra.
Above all, those eyes.
âHmm.â
They werenât like the eyes of the panther staring at him in the quarters, but they were similar.
In other words, he might be a wizard. It was a suspicion that felt half certain.
And that physique, could he be a magic swordsman?
If so, if that were the case.
âIâd like to have a go with him.â
Scratch, Encrid scratched his head for no reason.
Esther was watching him intently. The panther seemed to be wondering, âWhy is this guy half-crazed again?â
His eyes looked as if something was burning in them.
âLetâs spar. A sparring match.â
Then Rem, who was beside him, suddenly spoke.
âHuh?â
Encrid found it curious that Rem spoke before him, so he looked at him.
âWhy are your eyes rolling around? Letâs spar.â
So Encrid sparred with Rem. He brought out what he had learned and practiced, embodying it anew with his body.
It was a more enjoyable time than ever before.
And two days later, as scheduled, all companies except those on duty participated in the training.
This included the 1st Company, the Heavy Infantry.
Some members of the Heavy Infantry had disgruntled expressions on their faces.
Each unitâs training was different.
Especially since they had undergone harsher training than any other unit.
So it was understandable that some had such rebellious expressions.
Of course, Encrid, standing on the podium, didnât care in the slightest.
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