A Knight who Eternally Regresses - Chapter 390

WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 390: The Count and Crang

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Inside the great hall, Enkrid smelled blood and a faint animal reek.

The traces of battle were obvious in other ways too.

He could tell from one quick look around.

The queen sat on the throne with her mouth set tight.

Ruagarne stood right beside the queen with one ankle severed. Even so, she somehow kept her balance. Her Heart Armor was exposed, and it was scratched.

‘Marks of a fierce fight.’

A battle brutal enough to cost Ruagarne an ankle had happened here.

And they had still won.

Right before the eight low steps leading to the throne stood the Marquis of Okto in a robe, spattered with quite a few drops of blood.

His complexion looked duller than before. He made no effort to hide his heavy expression.

What about the rest of the hall?

The corpses had been removed, but bloodstains remained on the floor, and the walls were cracked and gouged.

Even the white-painted pillars supporting the hall were scored with sword cuts.

What did that stench say?

It was the smell of Demon Creatures.

Among the bodies, he could see several hairy Demon Creatures. Werewolves.

‘It was not just Viscount Bantara.’

He did not need to identify exactly who had engineered this. The intent was clear.

That was the conclusion of instinct, reason, and thought.

‘They tried to kill Crang, seize the capital, and secure the queen.’

Or had they meant to kill the queen too? He could not know that much. Either way, every part of their plan had failed. Crang lived. The queen also looked unharmed, at least on the surface.

Enkrid’s gaze shifted behind the throne. He saw a man standing farther back than the mages.

A man with a square jaw, graying sideburns, and brown hair combed neatly back.

With those closed lips, he looked like the type who might not speak a single word all day.

At his waist hung a sword with a Sun Beast-head pommel, and he stood directly behind the queen.

The perfect spot both to protect her and to harm her.

“I did not know the Guardian Knight truly existed. It has been a long time.”

The person least suited to this place opened his mouth. Count Molsen.

He ran a hand through his hair once, swept his eyes over Crang and Enkrid’s group, then turned his gaze to the queen and spoke.

No, in Enkrid’s eyes, that gaze had paused on him alone for a moment.

When he said it had been a long time, he had aimed that at Enkrid, not Crang.

It was as if Crang was not even there. Beyond ignoring him, he did not spare him a glance.

“You had no need to know that, did you?”

The warm, gentle queen who once fit this place was gone. A low, sunken voice spoke her mood now.

At that moment, the mage beside her coughed harshly, and the queen’s brow lifted.

“So you admit your intent was impure?”

The queen showed her anger.

“I do.”

The count continued. It was a short answer, but he smiled. Unchanged as ever. Confident and solid. Like an unbroken rock.

The arrogance of a man who acted in full faith in his own will was still his weapon. Amid the blood and beast stench, it felt like the count’s perfume spread through the air.

The force of someone who believed in no one but himself.

“I have one question.”

As if no answer was needed, the count spread both hands and continued. The queen had no chance to respond.

“Is this really what should happen because a few nobles raised a banner? Look at this state. The knight order has split, and even a Guardian Knight had to step in to protect the queen. Surely you know the saying that if a Guardian Knight has to move, the nation is nearing ruin? Is this the end? Look outside. If someone had set a fire, the royal palace might already be in flames.”

It sounded like he was saying he could have done it, but chose not to.

In Enkrid’s eyes, the count’s body seemed to grow larger and larger.

“That is sophistry!”

One noble shouted. An unfamiliar face. Still, just by being present here, he had to be a noble of high standing. His voice was loud, but he looked far smaller than the count.

It felt like perspective itself had broken.

“Do not dismiss what happened in reality as sophistry.”

The count’s voice was lower, yet his presence overwhelmed everyone in the hall. The noble shut his mouth.

He knew he would gain nothing by speaking further. The instinct of a noble who had survived long in politics.

“Hmph.”

He snorted instead, but the count flattened him simply by ignoring him.

No sword, no fist, yet he was still knocked down.

“What are you trying to say?”

Another noble stepped in this time. An old man resembling Marcus, Marquis Baisar.

Center Pole, head of the Thumb House.

His white hair was slicked neatly back with flower-seed oil, and not a single drop of blood stained his clothes.

It suggested his route here, his purpose, and his reason were different from everyone else’s.

“I want to ask why it came to this.”

The count answered.

“Why, you say?”

The marquis asked again.

“What do you think would have happened if the king had held real power?”

The corners of the count’s eyes and mouth curved softly. He said it with a smile.

“You bastard, how dare you insult the royal house!”

The same noble from before could not hold back and jumped in again. With short brown hair and raised eyes, he looked hot-tempered to the core.

“Stop interrupting. Unless this was your master’s instruction?”

The count’s words made the noble’s hand tremble. He wore a Shortsword at his waist, and it looked like he might draw it at any second.

After saying that, the count ignored him. The Marquis of Okto gestured toward the noble from the side.

The noble sealed his mouth.

“If one word could summon Sir Cyprus here?”

The count kept smiling as he went on.

“And if the south were emptied, do you know what would happen?”

Marquis Baisar shot back, and Count Molsen answered as if he had been waiting.

“Does that matter?”

“That is the blade that guards the royal palace. If that is not important, then what is?”

The Marquis of Okto cut in.

The count answered calmly.

“The throne, the king, power, authority, and the rule that comes from it.”

His meaning was clear. Set the throne straight and secure power first.

“Who gives orders to the knight order?”

The count spoke like he was giving a speech. He raised his clenched right fist high.

“Is it the knight they praise as a master? Is it the king? Or the throne? Or if not that...”

His voice flew like daggers. The queen bit down on her molars. The muscles in her jaw tightened.

“Is it the honor game they love so much?”

What came first?

The throne. The king. Power. Rule. Gather authority and build strength first.

Without the strength to achieve what one intended, what use was a throne?

“Pass down the crown, Your Majesty. That is the way to save this nation.”

The count had crossed the line. He had leaped far over it. Even so, it did not feel awkward. His words had the power to make it sound right.

It sounded like righteous doctrine, like a path to save the nation.

With a calm face and tone that did not suit this place, Marquis Baisar threw an obstacle in front of him.

“If you became king, what would change?”

“It would change.”

“What would?”

The Marquis of Okto, still heavy-faced, asked next.

“I would gather authority and increase the throne’s strength. Those who push in through the cracks? Lost territory? In a few years, all of them can be driven back, and the land can simply be reclaimed, can it not?”

It was his resolve to walk a different path from now on. Build internal strength first, then restart with the power grown from it.

“With what?”

“I am a mage. And in my territory, I possess strength equal to a knight order.”

This time it was a clear threat. Even Enkrid, watching, felt it.

Do you have power? I do.

That was what he meant.

Both marquises fell silent. The queen was no different.

“Your Majesty, how long do you think your Guardian Knight can protect you? Ridiculous. If you are confident, then try it. I will show you the strength of one born and raised in Molsen, the land you call frontier.”

This was where the word arrogance truly fit.

Even after this attempt had failed, the count did not beg forgiveness, nor did he skulk in shadows to scheme.

He stood straight and spoke straight.

A frontal assault. He was sure he could take it by force.

“Bring your knights. I will make every one of them kneel and die, and then I will personally proclaim this kingdom to be mine.”

Kill the entire knight order? Impossible. Yet he sounded like he could do it. His words carried force.

The count’s words pressed down on everyone present. Dragged them lower. It almost felt like they should kneel.

Enkrid would not.

The Marquis of Okto and Marquis Baisar were the same. But several of the remaining nobles were visibly shaken. The fight was over. It felt as if it would end in the count’s victory.

“Magic.”

As Enkrid watched, a whisper came from beside him.

Esther had pressed herself close before he noticed.

“I wondered what trick he was pulling.”

She spoke, and Enkrid kept watching ahead instead of answering.

Magic, meaning the count standing there had used some trick.

Should he cut him down? He disliked that man already.

Maybe Ragna read his mind, because he asked from behind.

“Shall I cut him?”

Would that be fine? While Enkrid weighed it for a moment, Crang raised his hand. His face wore a bright smile. Marquis Baisar’s calmness did not suit this place either, but this went past not fitting. He looked outright mad.

And what about the words and title he used?

“I have a question, teacher.”

His face looked more cheerful than ever. That title itself mocked the other man. He had clearly decided to say exactly what he wanted.

That mocking title made it impossible for the count to ignore him.

The count looked straight at the queen and said:

“You are putting your faith in a childish brat like that? A child with no power and nothing at all?”

Crang was not a child. He even had a fair bit of beard. But when the count said it, it sounded true.

Crang ignored whatever he was called.

As if he did not care at all. Then he spoke with that fresh, cutting indifference.

“If you withdraw the knight order and drive back the knights, then southern Rihinshtetten will expand its domain, and what of the Cursed Ground? Of course you will fail to block it.”

Crang stepped onto the board the count had made. He rode the mood. He looked like he did not care. He kept smiling, a faint smile.

“So?”

The count asked back. Only then did he look at Crang directly.

“Then many people will die. It will not end with losing land. As that land is lost and pushed back, countless people living near the border will die. Will that be the end? Lose people and lose land, and merchants will come less often. If merchants come less, what do you think happens? Fewer gold coins circulate. Then the nation’s finances may wobble for a while. Ah, unless gold overflows already, and you believe your private fortune can solve all of this, Count? But no matter how great your strength is, you cannot block all of southern Rihinshtetten and the Cursed Ground, can you?”

The count looked at the pup standing on his board. His eyes held contempt, as if Crang was ridiculous. He met Crang’s spear head-on.

“Sacrifice is inevitable. If it is necessary, it is done.”

“Must it be?”

“Then how do you move forward without sacrifice?”

Crang spread both hands.

“Do both.”

“Both?”

“We will not make sacrifices. And we will still build the royal house’s strength and reinforce the foundation.”

“That is sophistry.”

“Do not dismiss what is to come as sophistry.”

“Your only weapon is bluffing that you can do what cannot be done.”

“That is not my weapon. Mine lies elsewhere.”

“Then show me.”

“I am good at asking favors.”

“Favors?”

“For example, if I ask someone to cut off your head right now, there are people who would step up.”

“Try it.”

Crang kept smiling as he looked at the count. He looked like he was facing a close friend.

“Do you want to die?”

“You cannot kill me.”

He said that with certainty.

Enkrid had already finished preparing to move at any moment while listening to them.

“Can I ask you a favor? Enki.”

Crang spoke. Enkrid saw his eyes turn toward him. Blue eyes mixed with mischief and heat.

It might have sounded sudden. It might have felt like he should not step in.

Everyone was being crushed under the pressure shown by both the count and Crang.

Even Ragna had not stepped forward as readily as before.

Enkrid stepped through that space.

“Of course.”

He spoke too. Naturally, he blended into the atmosphere and took his place.

The mood twisted in a strange way. On the board Crang had made, the blade called Enkrid stepped forward.

“You really are a friend I want badly.”

Watching Enkrid move, Count Molsen said that.

“He is not your friend. He is my friend. Right?”

Crang replied.

“Turn to this side even now. The situation alone tells you enough. Even a seven-year-old child knows you must stand with the winning side.”

The count refused to yield, speaking as he looked at Enkrid.

The atmosphere made it seem that whoever pulled Enkrid to their side would be the winner.

Enkrid strode forward. Standing beside Crang, he grabbed his wrist and raised it high.

“Victory.”

A fine judgment.

“As expected.”

Crang smiled and nodded.

Watching that, the count laughed loudly.

“Good, good! Very good. This is your choice, Your Majesty?”

“I have nothing to discuss with traitors.”

Only then did the queen answer.

The count glared at Crang and spoke.

“You said you would strengthen your foundation without calling the knight order? Then first you must block the arrow I have already fired. Without that precious knight order.”

“Are you worrying for me? Thank you. I will defeat your forces without the knight order.”

Crang mocked him. The count did not accept the mockery. Instead, white smoke began leaking from his whole body with faint crackling sounds.

“It was never his real body to begin with.”

Esther said it to Enkrid, but everyone heard.

“Ah, I already sent part of my forces to Border Guard first. When splendid flames rise in that city, you will change your minds.”

The count said that as his body shrank while the smoke drained out.

“See you again.”

Whether it was his last line or not, with those words his body collapsed.

Enkrid looked at the fallen man’s face. It was not a face he knew. Crang did.

“Viscount Mernes.”

He had vanished before, and now it turned out he had ended his life here as the count’s messenger.

Crang let out a long breath.