WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 219: I Want to Cross Blades With Him Once

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Even with the whole city in a festive uproar, guard troops were still posted.

Escorted by them, two carriages crossed the city and rolled into the middle of the market.

There was no real reason to stop them.

To the outside world, they were allies, and this was the procession of one of the great nobles.

The coachman, his forearms clearly well trained, climbed down and opened the carriage door. A man with an impressively groomed mustache stepped out of the first carriage.

"Count Molsen?"

Marcus muttered, then went to receive him.

"I heard you won a great victory, so I stopped by on my way through."

He was the last person anyone expected to see here.

Especially not in the middle of the Border Guard marketplace.

The squad leader serving as guard captain could not even step forward and only watched the mood. When Marcus gave him a look, he silently backed off.

A strange pressure came off the count and his attendants, sewing everyone's mouths shut.

In that quiet, the count's voice rang out. It had steel in it.

The kind of confidence that came from trusting himself and knowing exactly how much authority he held.

"I was curious what this so-called hero of the battlefield looked like, so I came."

Count Molsen was bold. He was blunt. That only made him look even more confident.

Despite being a great noble, he wore neither expensive satin nor silk, only thin cotton, yet there was still unmistakable dignity to him.

Even through the light fabric, trained muscle showed. He clearly did not neglect his own conditioning.

He was standing on mud made slick by spilled liquor from drunk revelers, yet he still carried himself like a born noble. He was an impressive man.

It was the first time Enkrid had gotten this kind of feeling from a first impression.

That was what he thought.

"Well? I heard you were hiding a jewel, so let me have a look too."

The count's voice was easy, almost leisurely. Marcus heard him but did not answer right away.

The two seemed to know each other. Enkrid had been standing a few steps away, watching the situation, when he heard someone suddenly ask for him.

Should he step in?

Or leave it alone?

He glanced at Marcus's face and saw a stiffness he had never seen before.

This old man used to smirk even in the middle of war.

"That bastard's got the exact kind of back of the head that makes you want to split it open."

Rem muttered beside him. His speech was not slurred, but wanting to crack open the skull of a noble he had just met was not exactly normal.

Leaving drunk Rem where he was, Enkrid gestured to Audin and Ragna.

Take this bastard away.

If he was left alone, he looked ready to cause major trouble.

Enkrid also meant to ease Marcus's burden.

He had never planned to hide himself anyway.

Hiding him had been Marcus's trick, not Enkrid's will.

He had gone along with it, but now everything was already out in the open.

So stepping forward was the right move.

No, now that it had come to this, he even thought it might be good if Count Molsen's own swordsmen came to see him later.

He quite liked the little scheme Kraiss had told him.

Do not go to them, make them come to you.

More than anything, no matter what kind of air that man gave off, Count Molsen did not feel threatening to Enkrid.

Even before repeating this day, he had lived betting half a life at a time, and after repeating it, he had lived truly staking his life. If it was only a question of grit and nerve, Enkrid might have been the toughest man on the continent.

That was why.

In Enkrid's eyes, Count Molsen's appearance looked like an opportunity.

He had heard the count's hobby was collecting talent.

Count Molsen's nickname was the talent collector.

Then he must have plenty of people under him who were good with a sword.

There would be many who used spears well too. Some would be martial artists, and there had to be people skilled with blunt weapons as well. No, there definitely would be.

Rumors were everywhere that he even had knight-like fighters under him.

The man called Elite-Slayer Blade, who had targeted Enkrid in the previous battle, had also served under Count Molsen, but Enkrid had no way of knowing that.

He did not even know the dead man's nickname.

Anyway, Enkrid figured that if Kraiss spread the rumor, at least a few hot-blooded blades from Count Molsen's side would come looking for him.

"Was your name Enkrid?"

Count Molsen spoke again. At this point Marcus should have stepped in, but Enkrid moved a step toward them first.

"Stand back, soldier."

A man acting as escort blocked Enkrid's chest with his arm. No, it was closer to a strike than a block. He had basically shoved him, rough and aggressive, as if picking a fight.

That was the one who had been driving the carriage.

Well-trained arms. Broad chest muscles. Fierce, glaring eyes.

This was a provocation, right?

That seemed fair enough.

The other side had hit first.

Then wasn't that enough reason for this side to use force too?

It seemed enough.

Deep down, Enkrid also expected that leaving a strong impression here might raise the level of the people who came looking for him later.

So he did not think much of it.

Rem's influence probably played a part too.

And he had already had a few drinks.

That was why.

He grabbed the arm that blocked him and shoved, and the other man naturally pushed back with force.

In the same instant, Enkrid pushed the man's hand with his right hand, pulled it, and swept his heel with his left foot.

Center-break. Valaf-style Grappling, learned from Audin.

The other man got caught off guard. The kicked foot lifted into the air, his hips popped up, and he landed on his rear with a thud.

Whether the count intended it or not, it felt like Enkrid had deliberately torn apart the curtain of silence the man had created.

The surroundings seemed even quieter than before.

One soldier let out a groan before he realized it.

"That looked like it hurt."

The silence was awkward, so Enkrid said it lightly. The fallen man's face turned red. As he tried to rise with a savage glare, Enkrid spoke.

"It looked like you came to see me."

He did not even glance at the man he had dropped. He turned and looked at the count.

The count was looking this way too.

The coachman who had gotten up clenched his fist, debating whether to swing it or not.

In the end, he could not throw it. His lord was watching.

Enkrid showed force first, then let conversation follow. That small disturbance seemed to pull the count's gaze hard.

Enkrid had intended to draw attention, so he could look at the count calmly.

His posture and actions showed absolutely no backing down.

It looked half insane, maybe, yet the count silently observed Enkrid.

Enkrid did the same.

That's one carefully groomed mustache.

It looked like he had a barber manage it regularly.

Behind them, Marcus moved to step in, then shut his mouth.

Since Enkrid had stepped up, there was no room left for him to cut in.

"So you are Enkrid?"

The count asked.

"Yes, I am."

Enkrid answered.

Their eyes met. Enkrid looked at him evenly, and the count looked right back at those blue eyes under black hair with the same calm gaze.

Was slamming his coachman at a first meeting rude?

After making a scene, the thought crossed Enkrid's mind.

He did not care much.

Well, there was basically a grudge too, wasn't there?

People who needed to know already knew Count Molsen had quietly stuck his fork into that battlefield.

Outwardly, no one could ask why he did it.

Those Unmarked Forces had not charged in for no reason.

And as soon as Martai started losing, they had all pulled back and fled to the rear.

Not one of them got caught.

Chasing and catching a few would have been easy, but there was no need. No, they had been told not to.

Kraiss had said catching them would also be a problem, and he had given a very solid reason.

"If we find out and confront him? You think the count will just say, yes, that's right? No way. He'll probably claim we're framing him. Then we might end up having to bow our heads instead. Better to leave it unknown."

That was the core of it. Power was law.

Maybe Marcus expected that too, because he did not chase the men who ran.

Anyway, Enkrid judged it would not be a disaster if he embarrassed one guard-like coachman, since the guy was not the count's son or anything.

"Are you alright?"

The count asked the coachman standing awkwardly behind Enkrid.

"Yes, Father."

Hm?

Enkrid reflexively wanted to clean his ear.

He felt like he had just heard something wrong.

"So at our first meeting, you lecture my son before anything else? Your nerve is no small thing."

The count said it, and Enkrid realized there had been a major misunderstanding in the middle of all this.

"Uh, well. Yes. So that's how it is."

Silence again.

It felt like he had carefully stitched up the curtain of silence he had torn and returned it to the way it was.

"You thought he was not my son?"

The count tore that new curtain himself as he asked.

"I didn't know."

"Then now you do."

Was he telling him to apologize? The count fully turned and looked at Enkrid.

There was something like a faint halo in the count's eyes.

Looking at it gave Enkrid a strange feeling. It was like those eyes were reading what was inside him.

Not the outside, the inside. A gaze that drilled in. It sounded odd when he tried to put it into words.

Should he apologize?

He knew that was not hard.

What was difficult about tossing out a few formal words?

No one was asking him to cut off a finger and hand it over.

Even so, his mouth would not open.

Had his skill improved and his arrogance grown with it? No, that was not it.

The man in front of him just kept snagging at him.

The feeling was like meeting a demon creature on a lonely road, one of the most devious kind.

Around them, people watched both men, and a cold air started to spread.

Right then.

"Hahaha, it's fine. The one who got dropped is the idiot."

The count burst out laughing. Big smile, hearty laughter.

Enkrid silently gave a military salute to show respect for that generosity.

"I said it's fine. I really just stopped by to see your face. As expected, the rumors were not false, truly."

The count said that and studied Enkrid's face.

"I heard your face is excellent aside from your skill. Every maiden in these parts must be losing sleep."

"Looks like every maiden nearby has insomnia."

Enkrid answered with a fairy-style joke.

"Haha, this one has wit."

After a few pointless lines like that, the count gave Marcus something close to an apology about this matter.

"The demon creatures and magic beasts coming up from the south were no joke. Defending my territory is a duty entrusted to me by the king, isn't it? It wasn't easy to hold them back. So I could not help. Those Martai bastards, that city's eastern influence runs too deep. Your achievement is great."

He sounds like a king.

Thinking that, Enkrid watched Marcus answer with his usual gentle smile.

"I will hear praise of my achievement from my liege lord, our country's rightful queen."

You are not the king, bastard.

That was what it sounded like Marcus was saying.

"Then I will see you again."

Count Molsen did not care. No, he pulled back as if he had not heard it at all.

He stayed only briefly, yet the atmosphere he left behind lasted a long time.

The moment he left, Marcus spoke with a twisted smile.

"That rotten bastard."

It was one short line, but it carried emotion thicker than the contempt he usually showed toward Border Guard nobles.

"Are you two on bad terms?"

"Know what that bastard's dream is?"

How would he know that? Before Enkrid could even ask with his eyes, Marcus continued.

"A usurper. A throne usurper. Completely insane bastard."

Enkrid was still in no position to mock someone else's dream, so he could not join in denouncing that.

Still.

His eyes weren't strange because of his dream, were they?

Marcus did not seem to notice, but those eyes had really bothered Enkrid.

The party atmosphere that Count Molsen had twisted regained some life through a few soldiers' efforts, yet that too did not last long and quickly cooled, like a bonfire burning out.

The next day, a simple appointment ceremony was held after the party.

"I appoint Company Commander Enkrid as Training Company Commander!"

Marcus shouted it himself from the drill ground platform.

Everyone took it as expected.

"Training Company Commander because he trains hard?"

One soldier chattered like that, but those with good instincts showed unease.

Squad Leader Benzence especially.

"No way?"

That no way was the kind that got people killed.

After the ceremony ended and they returned, Rem sat there looking deeply thoughtful for a bit, then suddenly clapped and said:

"It's that bastard!"

What now with this bastard?

Enkrid asked, once again realizing Rem's head worked differently from normal people.

"What is?"

"That count bastard."

"Yeah, that count bastard."

"Didn't I tell you before?"

"You talk a lot all the time, Rem."

Meaning he had said too many things to count.

"No, I told you why I ended up drifting all the way here."

What was it again? Enkrid searched his memory. He remembered hearing it.

Rem had said he beat a man to death for repeatedly raping common women and committing murder. Then it turned out that bastard happened to be a noble's son.

"That son's father was him."

"...Count Molsen?"

"Ha, I was wondering where I'd seen him."

Rem nodded with a relieved look.

As Enkrid entered the lodgings, he thought:

Maybe it's coincidence.

Had Count Molsen really not recognized Rem?

If Rem had a wanted notice hanging around his neck, it felt like the count would not have let that pass.

No way to know. Especially that Count Molsen bastard. He seemed like the type to have not just a few hundred snakes in his belly, but a legendary nine-headed Hydra in there.

More than anything, those eyes.

"Hm."

Different from the leopard eyes staring at him in the lodgings, but similar.

Which meant mage.

It was a suspicion he was half certain of.

That body too. Could he have been a magic swordsman?

If so, if that was true.

I want to cross blades with him once.

Enkrid idly scratched his head.

Esther stared at him. The leopard's gaze said, Why is this human half crazy again?

His eyes looked like they were burning.

"Let's spar. Spar."

Then Rem, standing beside him, suddenly said it.

"Hm?"

It was surprising enough that Rem spoke before him.

"Why are your eyes like that? Let's spar."

So Enkrid sparred with Rem. He pulled out what he had learned before and newly embodied it through his body.

It was a more enjoyable time than ever.

Then, two days later, as scheduled, every company joined training except the soldiers assigned to active duty.

That included the 1st Company, the heavy infantry unit.

A few heavy infantrymen wore displeased expressions for no reason.

Each unit trained differently, after all.

And they had gone through harsher training than any other unit.

So a few of them showing insubordinate looks was possible.

Of course, Enkrid, standing on the platform, did not care in the slightest.

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