WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 193: Handle It Yourself (1)

= = =

Marcus listened to the report in the middle of the night.

“Every time I see you, you surprise me.”

He began with admiration.

“Thanks to you.”

Then he offered thanks so deep it was almost ceremonial.

How was a battalion commander bowing that low to a mere soldier, no, even if that soldier was now a company commander?

Enkrid said it had been coincidence, then plainly listed the facts.

That was all.

“I see.”

With Marcus’s thanks concluded, Enkrid left the office.

The rest was for Marcus, the man in charge of Border Guard, to handle himself.

After finishing his report and stepping out, the Elf Company Commander followed him as if to receive him, then spoke while staring blankly ahead.

Her gaze and tone were as half-hearted as ever.

“Tonight, together? We must preserve our purity before the sacred union, so we will only sleep holding hands.”

“I’ll sleep without holding hands. Alone. In my barracks.”

“I see.”

Was that really supposed to be a joke?

After parting with the Elf Company Commander and returning to his barracks, Enkrid rinsed off his sweat and sat on his bed.

Water dripped from his wet hair. As he shook it off with his hand, he noticed it had grown quite a bit again.

“They only ruined my sleep. If they were coming, they should’ve come all out, bastards.”

“All is within the Lord’s will. Pray, brothers and sisters.”

“I heard something happened?”

“Grrr.”

“Ugh, if the Black Blade Bandits came all the way here, things really are getting rough.”

Everyone tossed in a comment or two, then lay down as usual.

No, not everyone simply slept. At least Enkrid did not.

He closed his eyes and replayed the earlier fight.

Win or lose, overwhelming or not.

Every battle had something to learn. That was what he had been taught, and how he had always lived.

This time was no different.

Even cutting the enemy down cleanly changed nothing.

As he kept replaying it, he drifted off, and in his dream ten white lions rushed him.

But this time too, he did not falter. They were manageable. Worth fighting.

Enkrid suddenly felt how much he had grown.

Should he call it ridiculous?

What had his battlefield originally been?

A place where he thrashed just to survive.

A place where stepping forward meant death. A place where he had to stay in the rear and read the room if he wanted to live.

But now?

Even knowing it was a dream, his chest tingled. After long years of training and discipline, what had he wanted in the first place?

Thoughts like that should have warped the dream.

Maybe this was the boatman’s doing.

Even inside a dream, his mind was clear, almost like reality.

The strange part was that Esther fought beside him, but not as a panther.

Her skin was pale enough to look bloodless, smooth, and she wore a black robe that shimmered even in the dark.

It looked like an expensive garment.

“So that’s your original form?”

“...Could you not pretend to know me in the world between?”

What was that supposed to mean?

Even Enkrid found it strange that he recognized her face despite her not being a panther.

Still, with that black hair and blue eyes, could anyone fail to recognize her?

She told him not to act familiar, so he did not. Dream or not, he ignored her.

‘But isn’t this my dream?’

Part of him did think the problem was that she came from his own head.

Soon the white lions charged. Ten white lions swung claws and scimitars, and what began as a blood-splashing fight became a dance by the end.

Come to think of it, he had never asked how she learned Vallen-style mercenary swordsmanship.

In that moment, it did not seem important.

Instead.

‘She looked like she wanted to die, then suddenly looked full of attachment to life.’

A strange beastkin. Even her appearance was unusual. She did not look like an ordinary beastkin.

A dream was a dream, and work was work.

Lions appeared, but it was close to a nonsense dream, and it blurred quickly and vanished.

Enkrid opened his eyes, looked at the barracks ceiling, and sat up.

It was summer, so even at dawn the sky was already bright.

Then what should he do?

Start with the Isolation Technique.

Then sword training, with intervals for concentration training.

He did not skip the Sword Flicking Technique or five-sense training either.

Had Jaxon not said it himself?

“You train every day. Especially sensory training. Every day adds up, so you do not skip it.”

In a way, that sounded like Audin’s philosophy. The Isolation Technique followed the same line of thought.

“Brother, you cannot skip one day and do double the next. That only harms your body. You do it every day. Every day, every day, every day, every day. Brother, did you hear me?”

He had emphasized it so much the words were seared into Enkrid’s ears.

That did not mean daily training was painful. Enkrid also accepted it as natural.

That was how the day began: checking what he had, reviewing, and training.

Whatever had happened yesterday, while Enkrid spent another ordinary day today.

Marcus, the man in charge of the city and the one who had admired Enkrid last night, was confirming just how shameless the bastard who took Black Blade Bandits gold really was.

In its own way, that too was worth admiration.

* * *

Dunbakel spilled everything she knew.

She did the same after being imprisoned.

“Go to Border Guard and stir up trouble. That was the order. Me? I’m half a hired blade at this point. I don’t know how this started. But I’m sure they’re connected to someone inside the city.”

After hearing the beastkin’s words, Marcus did not even ask who.

Instead, he called in the noble bastard who had taken bribes and brought him to the prison. The man came down with an escort, and when Marcus asked whether he knew anything, this was the answer.

“I know nothing about this.”

The man frowned briefly, then repeated himself.

“Trash beastkin, speak clearly. You’re really from the Black Blade Bandits? Are you going to believe the rambling of a mercenary who moves for a few coins like this?”

He even got angry.

Hearing that from a man who had taken gold, right in front of the beastkin, left Marcus dumbfounded.

‘Can I really not cut this bastard down?’

Marcus turned his eyes away from the nobleman completely.

If he kept looking, he felt he might actually kill him on the spot.

That did not mean he planned to leave it alone.

How could he leave alone someone who had caused this much chaos?

‘Can’t cut him down in the city.’

Still, he was a noble. If something like this happened within Border Guard, there was a high chance it would become a problem later, even if they buried it now.

Even if they smoothed it over somehow.

‘Could become a weakness when I’m active in the center again. No, it will become one.’

Considering what came next, that could not be allowed.

‘Then how should I handle this?’

People looked at his nickname, War Maniac, and assumed he knew nothing of political struggle.

Not even close.

If you wanted to be a central noble and keep power, intrigue was essential.

Marcus was a politician too, and he had a talent for stabbing people in the back.

He made up his mind, thought it over, and reached a conclusion.

If he could not make a move here, then he could send him out first and attach that friend who always brought back more than expected whenever he was given work.

‘If I just send them together, it feels like he’ll solve it on his own.’

Enkrid, that friend.

Marcus had not even sent him on patrol. He had just left him in the barracks, and Enkrid had cut down Black Blade Bandits elites, turned a manticore into a bloody mass, and removed the cultist’s head.

That had all happened last night.

‘Should I just send him along?’

And if nothing happened, then fine. Leave it at that.

‘For now, send him under that pretext.’

The Black Blade Bandits had already started playing tricks. That could not be ignored.

Marcus carried malice in his heart, but spoke uprightly with his mouth.

“Martai has organized an army.”

That was true. A son of a bitch styling himself a general in that mercenary city was preparing for war against Border Guard.

Only a few sharp-eared people knew it yet, but rumors of city war would spread soon enough.

“And we have no reinforcements coming.”

As he spoke, Marcus stepped to the side.

Whoosh.

Because they were underground, the torch on the wall lit half his face and cast the other half deeper into shadow.

He looked like a man agonizing over the city’s safety.

Martai held a clear military advantage. Marcus knew it. The nobleman knew it too.

Knowing that was exactly why he pushed that nonsense about bringing in the Black Blade Bandits.

As commander and representative of the city, this was a matter worth agonizing over.

“What if we hire them as mercenaries?”

He did not name them directly, but the nobleman’s ears perked up.

They could not openly recognize the Black Blade Bandits as allies. But that bandit group did mercenary work too, did they not?

So the point was to hire them and use them for this matter.

The nobleman, Bansento, who had swallowed Black Blade Bandits money, perked up but tried not to show it.

His expression stayed flat.

At last hearing the words he had waited for, Bansento almost spoke immediately, then swallowed once so he would not look too eager.

He had thought everything was over after the failed raid, but no.

Had this instead worn Marcus down from the inside? Maybe.

‘Hire them as mercenaries first, then let them in afterward in that order.’

Bansento had once survived by reading people as a child. Then he grew up and seized power.

The sweet taste of power had pickled his brain.

He failed to grasp the situation properly. The Black Blade Bandits escort beside him contributed to that.

“The woman we captured is a beastkin called Dunbakel. Handling her isn’t difficult, but claiming one man blocked ten raiders alone is a lie. If it was those ten, even I’d need time. Defending alone from a night raid without preparation? That whole Madmen Platoon must have moved. A manticore? I know nothing about that. Better to suspect they’re just spreading false rumors.”

The manticore corpse had immediately been hidden and swallowed by Gielpin Guild, so only rumors remained.

A high-grade Demon Creature corpse was valuable in itself. Kraiss had planned to butcher it and sell it, so he naturally hid it inside the guild, but it also made misunderstanding easy.

‘Manticore, my ass. What kind of trick are they trying to pull?’

Before war, one common tactic was puffing yourself up when you knew fighting head-on would put you at a disadvantage.

This had to be Marcus’s scheme.

Since the raid had happened anyway, blow the whole thing out of proportion.

In that sense, he was probably hyping up that bastard Enkrid too.

Bansento made no effort to properly dig into the situation.

The escort sent by the Black Blade Bandits was the same.

He knew Enkrid had changed. He knew Enkrid’s men were capable too.

‘If we engage properly.’

Being strong was not what made you survive. The one who survived was strong.

The escort was not sure he could win in a straight fight, but he was sure he could kill.

He was arrogant.

Bansento was already painting a rosy future. That mindset hardened both of them and narrowed their view.

Thinking of that, Bansento suddenly turned to Dunbakel and spoke instead of agreeing right away.

“He doesn’t seem like a famous mercenary.”

Without a title, mercenaries were usually treated that way.

“Execute her. When should we depart?”

Whenever Marcus looked at Bansento, he wondered how this bastard had climbed to this position.

Then again, that was the weakness of the frontier. No talent. Rare talent.

Though for some reason, his barracks seemed full of talent right now.

“Tomorrow is best. Before Martai advances.”

A pretext.

Bansento’s face spread wide with satisfaction.

Marcus was satisfied inwardly too, but kept a heavy expression on the surface.

As for the remaining beastkin, Dunbakel, she was quietly buried in darkness.

“The execution, not now. Later.”

All she gained was a brief delay of death.

* * *

It started with this.

“I heard Martai made an absurd demand. Did you hear? Feels like this might need support from the center.”

That was Vengeance. Probably off duty today, he came looking for Enkrid and started talking.

Kraiss, listening nearby, burst into dialect.

“Support? No chance. Not coming. Why? Do I have to explain? Fine, I will. A large war against Demon Creatures broke out in the south. If it were only Demon Creatures rushing in, that would be one thing, but Rihinshtetten, the strongest great power in the south with a shared border, quietly stuck its hand in too. So now this is tied to the nation’s fate in every way. The Demon Creature hordes from the Demon Realm are already enough trouble, and now Rihinshtetten too. Meanwhile Border Guard already proved its military strength by blocking Azpen and buying time. If this is internal fighting and not Azpen, there’s no reason for the center to step in. Even if another faction joins here, Viscount Bantara and Count Molsen are still to the west. Normally the best move is to request aid from those two noble forces, but that won’t happen. Bantara is basically Molsen’s hound, and Count Molsen is famous for never moving without profit.”

Enkrid was once again amazed that Kraiss could figure all this out from where he sat.

More than that, he was amazed that mouth never stopped moving.

“Doesn’t your throat hurt?”

“Huh? From this much? I once did five roles by myself in a puppet show.”

That too was an impressive skill.

Carrying a play alone while mimicking five people could not be easy.

Judging by how Kraiss usually was, he would not have done it halfway either.

If it meant Krona, he was the type who would pawn his soul.

“And how many merchants pass through this city? Border Guard is a fortress city, sure, but because of its characteristics it’s also the greatest trade city in northern Naurillia. Listen closely and you hear things. That’s the point. Though that is also the problem and the core of this whole matter.”

Kraiss said it with one palm cupped behind his ear.

His tone carried certainty, but what part of this was ordinary?

People who predicted what was coming were usually called one of two things.

A fortune teller, or a con artist.

Kraiss was neither. He was simply born with an eye for reading the tide.

“On top of that, the Black Blade Bandits showed up, and cultists too, so this is bad in every way. Chief, you’re not thinking of leaving Border Guard and transferring to another city, right?”

Enkrid ignored that last question entirely.

Even if he left, what about those who remained?

“You mean that seriously? You’re not even thinking about defending the city!”

Vengeance shouted.

Kraiss was not being serious either. Enkrid knew that.

“Yeah, yeah, we defend it.”

“If you eat here, then do your work. Big Eyes.”

Enkrid took Vengeance’s side.

“At times like this, I kind of want to respond like Rem too. Are you taking someone else’s side right now? Then I might feel hurt. Rival? Is that what this is?”

Maybe his puppet-show background was real, because the imitation was convincing. Slouching, one leg cocked out, lips pouting. He nailed it.

“Hm? So Big Eyes wants to plant an axe in my crown instead of a flower, is that it?”

The problem was that Rem was walking right up to the barracks at that exact moment.

“...That’s not it.”

“Looks like Venzon came again. You bored?”

Rem casually renamed Vengeance and tossed in one more comment. Vengeance ignored him.

Then it happened.

“Fiance, summons.”

The Elf Company Commander spoke from just outside the training ground boundary, leaning her upper body over the short fence.

Lately, Enkrid saw her more often than the messengers. Why was someone at company commander level moving for a battalion commander’s summons?

“I volunteered because I wanted to see you.”

“...Is that so?”

By now Enkrid was used to Elven-Style Jokes, so he could let that pass without even smiling.

“Big Eyes, you need training too. Go on. While you’re gone, I’ll turn this bastard into a fine elite soldier.”

Behind him, Rem delivered something close to a death sentence to Kraiss.

“Together, let’s go together! Chief! Chief!”

Enkrid prayed for Kraiss’s soul and turned away.

Rem seemed frustrated in many ways these days, and sometimes blowing off steam like that was probably important.

Squeeeal!

Soon a pig-slaughter scream rang out behind him, but Enkrid ignored it.

“Killing within the unit is strictly forbidden.”

The Elf Company Commander glanced back and said it.

“He won’t kill him.”

When Enkrid answered, she thought for a moment, then said,

“He’ll handle it himself.”

For some reason, her tone was full of trust.

When Enkrid entered the battalion commander’s office, Marcus spoke at once.

“Take on one mission. I want you to go with an envoy group.”

Before Enkrid could even salute. His tone was that urgent.

“An envoy group?”

“Ah, we need to hire mercenaries, don’t we? So.”

Envoy and mercenary. Words that did not fit together.

It also sounded like war with Martai was truly right around the corner.

But was it really that much of a threat?

“I want you to go with the envoy to the Black Blade Bandits. Ah, not as the envoy itself. As escort.”

An even less fitting pair than envoy and mercenary appeared.

Envoy and bandits.

And escort on top of that.

Then why were the battalion commander’s eyes shining so brightly it felt burdensome?

They were full of expectation, as if stars had been set in them.

Enkrid found it deeply strange.

= = =

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