Chapter 354

“Halt.”

As they approached the city walls, a guard stepped forward, blocking their path with the shaft of his spear.

Enkrid instinctively analyzed their position—their stance, the direction of their footing, their balance.

There were two standing in front, but more waiting behind them.

The skill level of the ones blocking their way was unimpressive, to say the least.

Fresh recruits.

Among the Border Guard, a fresh recruit referred to a soldier with battlefield experience but no formal training.

It was a term used to describe those who had been thrown into war but hadn’t yet learned how to fight.

Behind them stood a more experienced soldier—probably their superior. Their eyes met, and the man narrowed his gaze.

He seemed to be silently asking, Who the hell do you think you are, staring like that?

Sloppy.

If it came to a fight, he wouldn’t even be able to block a drawn sword.

Over twenty guards were stationed at the city gates.

Some were occupied checking carts and wagons, but four had come to confront them.

Two in front, the superior standing behind, and one more at the very back—a middle-aged man wearing a feathered hat tilted to the side instead of a helmet.

At his waist hung a long, thin sword.

He was the only one whose stance was different.

Could he be dangerous?

While Enkrid was gauging his ability, deep in thought—

“You’re looking too obviously.”

Rem’s voice cut through. A warning.

And as soon as he said it—

“Well, well. Look at this guy. You were sizing me up, weren’t you?”

The feathered hat spoke, tilting his head.

His awareness was sharp. His skill must have been, too.

Without hesitation, Enkrid nodded.

“…And you just admit it?”

Feathered Hat muttered, then raised his voice.

“How many of them?”

He directed the question to his subordinate.

The soldier at the front scanned the group.

“Seven and… a beastkin? And what the hell is that horse? What’s wrong with its eyes? Eh, and is that a leopard?”

The guard’s expression twisted in confusion as he took in the bizarre group.

Especially the leopard. A wild animal, a predator. If it caused trouble, it would be a nightmare to deal with.

The guard subtly lowered his spear tip, clearly wary of Esther.

Or maybe just outright terrified.

Enkrid had nothing to say to that.

Esther was a leopard.

Back in the Border Guard, it hadn’t been an issue because no one made a fuss about it.

Why?

Because she was a mage.

People accepted that mages were mysterious, unique beings.

Some thought she was just a pet leopard, but that was fine, too.

To them, she was merely Enkrid’s leopard, and nobody questioned Enkrid’s actions.

But this was the capital.

Even entering was a problem.

Should they turn back?

Their mission was to escort Crang to the capital.

Crossing the gates was a separate matter—it wasn’t necessarily their responsibility.

“It’s fine.”

As he was considering this, Crang placed a hand on his shoulder.

“If you overthink things, even simple tasks become impossible. A wise man once told me that, and I had forgotten it myself.”

“…Huh?”

Enkrid looked at him, wondering what the hell he was on about.

Crang’s eyes glimmered.

“You will become a knight, right?”

There was such sincerity in his voice that Enkrid nodded without hesitation.

“Of course.”

“Then I’ll ask you again—why are you standing by my side?”

Crang whispered.

Meanwhile, the guards ahead were growing increasingly agitated.

“We cannot allow wild animals inside without a leash. And more importantly, do any of you even have an entry permit?”

“Rare to see people practically announcing that they plan to cause trouble. Are you mercenaries?”

Feathered Hat was speaking as well.

Crang had noticed a flaw in Enkrid’s answer.

Saying he protected him because he didn’t know his worth—

That was a weak excuse.

Now that his headache was gone, he could see it clearly.

Enkrid did not move for such reasons.

Claiming that he protected something because he didn’t know its worth—

That was a calculated statement.

And what exactly had gone into that calculation?

Crang wanted to know.

To him, Enkrid was a man who walked forward without hesitation.

A man like that wouldn’t hesitate over the value of things.

Yet he had given an excuse.

That meant something had weighed on his mind.

That was Crang’s conclusion.

“So why did you make that excuse?”

Enkrid was genuinely impressed.

This bastard had sharp instincts—sharp enough to slap even Kraiss across the face.

To call it an excuse—it was like Crang had seen straight through him.

He hadn’t forgotten. He was still part of the Border Guard.

If Enkrid had been the kind of fool who acted without thinking, he wouldn’t have survived this long.

He was well aware of his own position and the consequences of his actions.

What if Count Molsen threw a tantrum?

“That does bother you, doesn’t it?”

The words had come up when he spoke with King Eyeball.

Annoyingly perceptive bastard.

“Make up an excuse. Keep insisting on it.”

It had been good advice.

And that excuse had been this—

Was Crang really worth that much?

Worth enough that assassins were sent after him in waves?

Enkrid didn’t know.

So, he had decided to keep him alive.

Because he knew nothing, he had simply reacted and dealt with whatever came.

That was it.

That was all.

That was his stance.

But Crang had seen through it all.

His question was simple.

Can you tell me the real reason, without excuses?

“If it were you…”

Enkrid spoke while thinking.

If a knight protects, then a king rules.

Enkrid didn’t have any burning loyalty to Naurillia.

He wasn’t bound to this land by anything more than the fact that he had been born here.

But that didn’t mean he loved nothing about it.

He cared for the small city where he was born.

He couldn’t ignore the people who had raised him, who had taken in a parentless child who would have otherwise starved to death.

“If only war didn’t exist.”

The fruit vendor had said as he sliced off the rotten half of an apple.

“If people would just learn to be a little more careful, wouldn’t life be better?”

The old innkeeper had muttered while roasting potatoes in the hearth.

“That damn war—young men might love it, but tsk.”

The old woman, who had once sold her body just to survive, had sighed.

“If there were no war, I’d have just quietly married, had kids, and spent my days making stew.”

The stew she had made had warmed him like nothing before.

“You’re a genius.”

The mercenary who had screamed at him, telling him to survive, had also once said that.

That man had lost his legs in battle.

But he had loved children.

And rather than eat, he had fed starving orphans first.

Enkrid’s childhood had been filled with hardship.

But he hadn’t hated it.

Not entirely.

They were all people who lived in this country.

He didn’t understand politics, the royal family, or the nobility.

But—

“You seem like you’d do a good job.”

Would something change if Crang became king?

It was just a gut feeling. A prediction.

He wasn’t a prophet.

This was, at best, a gamble.

“Choose me, Enkrid. Become a knight and stand by my side.”

Crang’s words carried weight.

A force of will pressed against Enkrid.

It was a statement directed solely at him.

Yet Enkrid did not nod.

Crang beat him to it.

“I don’t need an answer.”

He lifted his head.

After walking through threats of assassination, he had reached a realization.

If your sword is at your waist, then my sword is in my mouth.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

It was in his mind, in his blood.

Now, it was time to wield it.

“Matthew.”

He called his escort.

The guard’s gaze hardened.

“And what the hell are you?”

Matthew stepped forward and spoke.

“In the name of the one true, supreme, and wise queen of this land, I declare—”

He took a breath.

“The last remaining rightful heir of the royal bloodline has arrived.”

His words were heavy.

The guards blinked.

The superior among them—his brain finally caught up.

“…What did you just say?”

Matthew placed a firm hand on the shoulder of his subordinate, who looked ready to resort to violence, and pushed him back as he spoke.

“It’s exactly as I said.”

His voice was loud—loud enough for everyone at the gate to hear.

The area in front of the city gate was bustling, but those nearby heard his words clearly.

“What did he just say?”

“The rightful heir to the royal bloodline?”

“Is he saying the Queen had a hidden child all this time?”

Anyone with half a brain knew that the political situation within Naurillia was particularly complicated at the moment.

The issue of succession was always a sensitive matter.

The Queen was not old, but she had no children.

And while she had a husband, it was widely known that she was unable to bear children.

“Preposterous.”

Matthew spoke again, making sure his voice carried.

His words were directed at the ranking officer blocking their way.

“My lord is a descendant of the royal family of Naurillia. His name is Cradianat Randios Nauril.”

Royal names were always long.

They were often composed of characters taken from past monarchs’ names.

Even so, Crang’s name was unusually short.

Because he had lived in hiding as a bastard.

He had only learned his full name when he had grown up.

And so—

“Call me Crang.”

His voice came out as if spoken through a ventriloquist’s trick.

Enkrid glanced at him, and Crang continued.

“That’s my real name, to begin with.”

He had been called that since childhood.

So that was his name.

Crang wasn’t lying.

I was wrong.

Enkrid had assumed it was an alias.

Looking at it now, it seemed like it had been derived from Cradianat Randios, but if Crang said it was his true name, then that meant he had used it first.

“Kneel before the blood of the royal family!”

Matthew shouted.

“…This is the first I’ve heard of a prince. You’ll have to prove it.”

The superior officer stepped forward.

Behind him, Feathered Hat moved as well.

He was the commander of the South Gate Guard.

At the Captain’s words, Crang took a step forward.

“What proof do you need?”

“Impersonating a royal is a grave crime.”

“Then arrest me.”

Crang reached into his chest pocket and pulled out a pendant.

It wasn’t a complete object.

It was only half of one.

A pendant he had worn around his neck like a necklace.

Upon its surface, the royal crest was unmistakably engraved.

A forgery could never imitate the level of detail and craftsmanship it possessed.

The pendant was smaller than a palm, but even as a fragment, it bore the royal insignia:

Three swords, a circular head, and a sunbeast with a flaming mane.

The symbol of the royal family.

It was the sunbeast’s head that was engraved on this half.

“The other half is with my sister.”

The only person who could confirm Crang’s identity was the Queen herself.

But did that mean they should let him pass?

The Gate Captain hesitated.

And then—

“I will vouch for him.”

A voice spoke from behind.

When did he arrive?

“I, Marcus Baisar, swear upon my name that this man is the rightful heir and descendant of the royal family.”

The Gate Captain immediately understood—

This was beyond his control.

“Let them through.”

There was no choice.

A guarantee from the House of Centerpole could not simply be ignored.

From this point forward, the matter would be in the hands of those who killed with politics instead of swords.

He was a man who dealt with steel, not words.

But that didn’t mean he could just let this go.

I should detain his companions.

Of course, the Gate Captain never got the chance.

“They are all my people. Will you detain them?”

The golden-haired man, who had just revealed himself as royalty, smiled as he spoke.

Shit, I’m screwed.

Letting them pass would invite endless harassment from the nobles.

If he was unlucky, he might be accused of allowing traitors into the capital and lose his head.

But if he stubbornly resisted—

And if this really was a prince—

His head would be gone either way.

Even an idiot wouldn’t dare impersonate royalty in broad daylight, at the capital gate, in front of the Gate Captain.

That meant there was a very high chance that what this man said was true.

Which left him with no choice at all.

And then—

Crang continued, still smiling.

Each word he spoke pierced the Gate Captain’s chest like a dagger.

What noble, what officer had ever said something like this?

This was the first time he had heard such words.

“Tell them I forced you.”

“Tell them I insisted.”

“Tell them it was all my fault.”

Marcus gave a slight nod as well.

A tingle ran through the Gate Captain’s chest.

At forty years old, he had never felt something quite like this.

Who the hell is this man?

Before he could even process it, Marcus Baisar stepped forward and quietly reassured him.

“I’ll make sure this doesn’t come back to harm you.”

The Gate Captain nodded.

His gaze never left Crang.

He had never seen a man quite like him before.

Enkrid and the others had simply been watching.

“Well, well. Having a royal sponsor sure is convenient.”

Rem muttered in admiration.

Just as he said, no one stopped them.

Even as the mismatched-eyed wild horse trotted in.

Even as the leopard casually walked through the capital gates.

They didn’t even have time to take in the sights of the capital.

Because the Royal Guard had arrived.

They were called the Royal Knights.

Each of them wore full plate armor, armed with long spears, short swords at their hips, and kite shields strapped diagonally across their backs.

Their helmets were gilded, covering their faces entirely except for their eyes and mouths, which only made them more intimidating.

The Royal Knights surrounded the group.

“We will escort you to the palace.”

The one at the front spoke.

His helmet was a dull gray, unlike the others—he wore untouched steel, not gilded plate.

Even his presence alone was enough to make ordinary people shrink back.

But where among them was an ordinary person?

“You see them sweating? Must be hot in all that armor.”

Rem scoffed.

Jaxon, as usual, said nothing.

But inwardly, he was relieved.

He had been looking for an excuse to get inside the palace anyway.

Dunbakel, eyes shifting left and right, whispered—

“We’re really going with them?”

Did they need to go all the way to the royal palace?

His instincts screamed danger.

“Want to turn back? Go ahead.”

Enkrid’s tone was indifferent.

Dunbakel quickly shook his head.

“If you stay, I stay.”

“Do as you like.”

Enkrid was simply curious.

About what Crang was trying to do.

This wasn’t a battlefield, where problems were solved with steel.

But watching Crang’s back, walking forward as if he alone could take on a hundred—no, a thousand men—

It made something inside him itch.

It stirred something.

Do you want to get stronger?

Rem had asked him that once.

Back then, he had nodded without hesitation.

And Rem had said something in response.

Recalling that memory, Enkrid stared at Crang’s back.