WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 289: Duty and Responsibility (1)

= = =

For Kraiss, this was obvious.

Why risk your life in a fight you could not win?

Why stand here ready to die?

"Maybe if reinforcements show up."

Looking at the situation from every angle, the odds were low. Low, yes. Not zero.

If they wanted even a glimpse of those reinforcements, they first had to give up what could be given up.

Green Pearl, for example, and the Border Guard fortress.

They had watchtowers built over time and newly dug moats, but if attacks came from both sides, all of that would be useless.

"What we have now means nothing."

Planning for what came next was wise too. Holding out was not always the answer.

Kraiss had already reasoned his way to that conclusion, so he said it.

He said they should run.

Enkrid stared at Big Eyes and thought,

"His eyes seem fine this time."

He did not look panic-stricken, like fear and anxiety had swallowed him whole.

So he was asking this with a clear head. Did he really not know what would happen if they ran now?

Enkrid widened his gaze and looked around.

Not just Big Eyes, every member of the unit had their eyes fixed on him.

Whatever choice he made here, they would follow him.

That was how it looked.

Even Odd-Eye, loitering in front of the barracks, would probably do the same.

As for Esther, there was no need to say anything.

And Rem, who had wandered off to nap somewhere, would probably chase after them somehow if he came back and Enkrid was gone.

Ragna felt the same. Even if he split off, got lost, and got lost again, he would still find his way back.

Why? Who was he to them?

What had they seen in him to follow him like this?

He could not force his will on them.

He could not force them to protect what he had chosen to protect.

Enkrid could not do that.

"You can go."

That was why he said it. Kraiss brightened, but still waited for what came next.

"What about you?"

Jaxon, who got curt when things went bad, asked at once.

That bastard seemed like the type to wait for an opening, then drop formal speech the moment he saw one.

"I'm not going."

"Why? We've done more than enough already."

Kraiss quietly dropped formality too. Enkrid did not argue about it.

He said what he had to say instead.

"If you sell your sword for gold coins, you're a mercenary."

Everyone looked at him in silence, as if wondering what nonsense he was spouting. They waited for what came next, and seeing that, Enkrid realized something. He had learned from them, yes, but they had learned from him too.

How to listen.

Everyone's ears were open. He would have spoken even if they were closed, but if they listened, that was better.

"And I will become a knight."

He swallowed.

Thoughts he had carried for years, thoughts from some day in the past, had been carved and refined until they became a solid pillar.

Enkrid pushed himself up into a slanted sitting position. Pain surged through his shin and right arm.

It was not unbearable. He could endure it. At least it was far better than dying.

The constant pain only reminded him he was alive, that he had not wasted this day.

"He says that a lot."

Jaxon chimed in.

Enkrid pulled his leg in and shifted into the most comfortable position he could manage.

"If you won't sell your sword for a handful of gold, then sell it to duty and responsibility. And right now, this is my duty and my responsibility."

What was a knight?

Someone who protected.

What should be protected?

The knights of legend and myth, the ones who shone like the sun in old stories, had said:

Protect the weak.

Defend justice.

Keep your oath.

Which came first among those? Enkrid had reached his own conclusion.

Chivalry.

Was giving your life for a lady chivalry?

If he had sworn it, yes.

If that was his chivalry, Enkrid would acknowledge it.

But he would never sell his sword for a few gold coins.

He would not become a murderer who enjoyed killing people either.

An invisible value. Protecting what he believed in.

People who swore for that, and kept that oath.

To ordinary people, they looked hopelessly foolish.

That was Enkrid's dream.

That was the road he had watched and walked until now.

That was why, even after dying over and over, he had never given up, and never settled for today.

If Enkrid ran now, how many people inside Border Guard would die?

Children, women, old people, young people, it did not matter. It could become a massacre in the hundreds.

Maybe fewer would die.

Or maybe even more.

One of the enemy groups was a cult. A mad group was involved.

Of course, even considering all that, retreating for now could still be seen as more efficient.

Give up what had to be given up first, then take it back later. That might be the better route.

But he would not do that.

Enkrid's emotions did not waver.

This was not something to waver over.

He had decided to do it, so he would do it.

Border Guard was behind him, and Enkrid had sworn to protect them.

He was not a knight yet, but from the day long ago when he swore to live this way, Enkrid had kept that oath. He had lived like this all along. That was the kind of man he was.

Kraiss's face turned pale again. The corners of his eyes drooped. He clearly did not like this.

"You're stubborn."

"Agreed."

As he answered Kraiss, Enkrid remembered a day from the past.

* * *

Whoooosh.

"Rain's pouring like crazy."

The mercenary captain did not especially hate rainy days, but trudging through sticky marshland for a contract made his irritation spike.

At least they were not crossing the center of the swamp. They were taking a path through a small forest beside it, and that was fortunate, but it still was not enjoyable.

That little forest by the swamp loved gifting them long bugs that slipped through the gaps in their armor, and fearless mosquitoes bit even the backs of marching mercenaries' hands.

"Fuck!"

Smack!

One mercenary slapped the back of his hand and cursed.

Rain was pouring down, so where the hell were these mosquitoes even coming from?

"Still far?!"

A sharp-eyed mercenary shouted.

The guide brushed up his soaked black hair and said,

"We're close."

"You've been saying that for a while."

The captain came over. He was huge and rough-looking, intimidating at a glance. Yet even as he looked straight at that captain, the guide's blue eyes stayed calm.

"The rain slowed us down."

"Hah, fine. Let's move."

Tap.

The captain gave the back of the guide's head a light smack and shook his head.

Then he soothed his mercenary crew.

"You bastards, shut your mouths before I throw you into the swamp."

As he spoke, the captain chopped down a long vine blocking his path with his thick sword.

Thud. The severed vine split to both sides, and the path opened.

His words were rough, but they did quiet the complaints. Watching it, the guide, Enkrid, thought this was a pretty decent mercenary group.

For one thing, unlike his face suggested, the captain took care of his men, and the crew had lines they did not cross.

At least they were not the type to stick blades into comrades, friends, or clients during a job.

Without that kind of judgment, acting as a guide often ended with becoming bug food, or tree food.

If he did not want to die on the road, he had to choose people well.

Looks like he chose well this time too.

"But why use that guy instead of a proper Pathfinder?"

Was he asking because he knew everyone could hear, or because he wanted everyone to hear?

One mercenary moved up behind the captain and asked.

Whoooosh, patter-patter-patter.

Even through the pouring rain, their conversation carried clearly. Thanks to the trees overhead, at least the rain did not hit as hard.

"Cheap."

"Huh?"

"He's cheap, that bastard. Not as good at guiding, but he can swing a sword."

Good as half fighter, half guide.

Which meant they could pay a guide's fee and get an extra fighter. Taking everything together, the mercenary captain said Enkrid was cheap labor.

Of course, the dumb underling muttered, "Not cheap though?" and kept yapping.

He said he knew lots of guides who cost less.

"Any of those guys actually find the way?"

A comrade behind him sneered.

"Want me to kill you? Mouthy little shit."

After that came a parade of pointless jokes.

Jokes about killing and not killing.

Typical rough mercenary talk.

Their contract was to stay in a small village in the woods and handle work there.

It was a fairly safe village, with very few Demon Creatures and Magic Beasts nearby.

Surrounded by swamp, it looked like a place where a lizard colony should appear, but they said some wandering swordsman had come through over a decade ago and slaughtered all of them.

After that, whenever Demon Creature lizards started gathering, the village hired mercenaries.

A few gold coins a year kept the danger away.

Whoosh, rain pouring. Vision shaking. Clothes and armor soaked and clammy. Once soaked this badly, the gambeson he wore was basically trash.

Good thing he had worn a cheap one.

If the rain eased up, bugs swarmed, and on top of that, it got hot.

What was wrong with the trees here? Instead of cool air, they felt like totems preserving dampness.

It was a routine contract. Exterminate lizards, repair around the village.

Enkrid had already spent over half a year enduring and training in villages around this area. He was working as a guide to make a living.

"We've arrived."

The village he reached by leading them along a rough but mostly familiar route.

"Welcome."

The middle-aged village headman welcomed the mercenary crew, then they dealt with lizards drawn by the swamp's smell.

They also tied ropes of tree bark with smells the creatures hated all over swamp trees.

They drove stakes into the ground too, though it looked doubtful that would work.

"This is wisdom handed down from the past."

The village headman seemed to believe it completely.

Because all kinds of things kept happening, they often needed mercenary hands.

If even one missed lizard appeared, they needed blades again, and almost nobody besides mercenaries would step in.

Some villagers could fight, but most looked far removed from combat.

Enkrid had come along as a guide and had no need to step in, so as always, he was swinging his sword in an empty corner of the village when,

"Mister."

A kid called out to him. A little one with soft eyes and pale skin.

Maybe twelve at most.

He had once lost to someone about that age, so he did not look down on kids just for being young, but she did not look like someone who used a sword.

"Why do you train so hard?"

What came next was obvious. Trivial chat, a kid who kept showing up, more exactly a little girl, and that was how Enkrid got close to one kid.

"I'm leaving the village in three years."

"Your dream is to die on the road?"

Big guts, calling dying outside your village a dream.

At that age, where was she planning to go alone?

"No, damn it, that's not what I mean! You saw the herbs that drive off lizards, right? Do you think stuff like that only exists here? The herbs from this swamp are different."

He had heard the swamp village's main income came from herbs.

"Ah, so your dream is dying on the road?"

"Ah, damn it, seriously!"

Then what was she going out there to do?

"I'm going to find truly amazing herbs. And I won't go alone. I'll leave with a mercenary group that comes later!"

That was her dream. Find plants people did not know and pass them off as medicinal herbs to sell.

Enkrid did not laugh at other people's dreams. Still, he worried.

"So your dream is to die on the road while looking for herbs?"

"Ah, seriously!"

He did not think they were deeply close. Just casual familiarity, a way to pass spare time.

For him, it was something to fill time while resting his body after training.

Maybe the little girl felt the same.

Among the mercenaries who came to the village, the others looked fierce, but one guy looked relatively mild and swung his sword alone in a corner every day.

She talked to him and found him decent to joke around with, probably about that much.

The mercenary group's work continued for over a month, and the two kept exchanging silly talk.

"Mister, is your dream to be a guide?"

"No. A knight."

"A knight? Like that Nightmare of the Battlefield?"

"Yeah."

"...I think gathering herbs together could be nice too. You could come with me later."

"Forget it."

"No, I respect you, mister. Really. I mean it."

"Look me in the eye when you say that."

Why was she looking off at distant hills while talking?

"Huh? What did you say?"

"Oh, now you're pretending you didn't hear too."

She was one absurd kid.

And a crisis always arrived without warning.

"Hey, what does either side gain if we fight here? I'll say it straight. You got paid, so leave. Get out. This isn't even your contract."

In Enkrid's view, the mercenary captain was a decent man.

For a mercenary captain, he really was. He meant that sincerely.

Then fifty bandits appeared out of nowhere.

They spewed nonsense about hearing a rumor that jewels were hidden in the swamp village.

The mercenary captain had to choose.

The villagers had to despair.

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