WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 395: With One Battle

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"Did I go too far?"

The Boatman said.

"It was a whim."

The Boatman answered.

"It was madness. What was so pretty about it? I said it was fun? That only lasted a moment."

The Boatman spoke again.

"Was that not part of what is to come?"

The Boatman asked again.

"Humans are creatures of potential and possibility."

"That is why they are arrogant."

"He will be the same."

"Who knows? Just as he gave us amusement, what is to come may also change."

"If he ends up trapped there in the end, then that is all there is to it."

It was a solitary exchange of questions and answers, with no one there to hear it.

* * *

Crang held the first strategy meeting at the palace training grounds. He had a small platform set up and stationed the Royal Guard around it.

The nobles gathered first.

Where people gather, words follow. One of those who had heard all kinds of rumors was the first to speak.

"I heard fifty Lycanthropes appeared in front of the Border Guard. They say Count Molsen is a mage too. Who knows what else might come out of his territory?"

"Huh."

"Dangerous. It is a miracle they held it back, a real miracle."

"And not just Lycanthropes. They say that Demon Creature that shook the capital before was his doing too."

"Is that all? They also say the palace incident centered on Viscount Mernes was the Count's work."

Crang did not control information. He spread it further. Because of that, everyone knew the full story behind the incidents.

"They are even saying we have to fight without recalling a single knight from outside."

"Does that make sense? At least one knight from the Red Cloak Knights should come at once."

"...This is not going to turn into an unwinnable fight, right?"

One young hereditary noble crossed the line. The words slipped out before he could stop them, driven by anxiety.

Even if only Crang's side remained, that did not mean everyone shared one mind. Once anxiety took hold, trust began to shake.

That was exactly what was happening now.

From hereditary nobles to lesser nobles, to merchant company owners in the capital and guild masters, all of them were gathered there.

"Insolent."

"Can you not even trust the lord you chose?"

Two nobles who had been watching in silence rebuked him, and then the noble who had spoken first opened his mouth again.

"I do not think blame alone will help. We should assess the situation, read the current, and judge accordingly. If blind faith is enough, then should we not just go pray at a temple?"

"Baron Zepl, what exactly are you trying to say?"

The man called Baron Zepl answered at once.

"I am saying we should face reality and do what must be done."

"Treason?"

The man who said it looked ready to swing at any moment.

Since the meeting was being held at the training grounds, everyone was armed.

A few of the non-nobles frowned. Is this really all right? No one knew how long this civil war would drag on, so was it really right to stand with people like this?

"Do you want blood, Baron Ludin?"

Their forms of address were rigid. They were not sworn enemies, but their territories bordered each other with a mine between them, and they had clashed before.

There was no way they could be close.

Separate from that small quarrel, anxiety spread even further through the group.

The nobles whose lands bordered Count Molsen's territory felt it most strongly.

If a Demon Creature horde formed a colony and charged, what would happen to their lands?

Losing even one city would be catastrophic.

Even in a civil war, did they really have to stake everything they owned?

If they lost? No, even if they won, what would remain?

If territorial wars broke out afterward, whose side would the king support?

The side that fought better? Or the side that was useful then?

Those thoughts were not limited to nobles. Guild masters and others felt the same.

Everyone gathered here had plenty to weigh politically. Even so, they were people with courage and resolve.

Were they not the ones who had turned their backs on Count Molsen?

Of course, among them were many who could never have boarded the same ship as the Count in the first place.

One had lost his family merchant company, built over generations, after the Count swallowed up surrounding trade in the name of business.

Another had lost half his territory after being forced to pay absurd protection fees because the Count had "protected" him from nearby Demon Creature attacks.

People like that ground their teeth whenever Molsen's name came up.

"Humans turning into Demon Creatures? No, he embraced Demon Creature hordes from the start. How can someone like that be called human?"

There were those who spoke such first principles outright.

The speaker was a master of the artisan guild. They took pride in forging weapons for humanity, so it was natural for him to say it.

More than twenty people had gathered.

Great nobles like Marquis Baisar and the Marquis of Okto had not arrived yet.

More precisely, both were at Crang's side.

Inside a small building behind the training grounds, in a barracks that smelled of stale sweat.

"Not all of them share the same heart."

"But we cannot call them enemies."

The two marquises spoke in turn.

Those who had joined whatever side the current favored.

Those who stood with Crang but had no intention of risking everything.

And others with their own separate bundles of thoughts.

Even so, they were necessary.

They could not even estimate how much hidden strength the Count possessed.

At this point, if even a ghoul stood on their side, they had no choice but to close their eyes and accept it for now.

No, Count Molsen was already doing exactly that.

"So he is a mage."

Baisar's brow seemed to furrow deeper.

Whatever Count Molsen had done, things that were human or Demon Creature, impossible to tell, had taken his side.

How that was possible could not be known now, and did not need to be known.

Now was simply the time to fight and win.

"You must look at the long term."

The Marquis of Okto added his words.

His power came from the land. Otherwise he could never have earned "Okto" as an epithet.

The longer the war dragged on, the one who suffered most would be the Marquis of Okto.

If battles exploded everywhere, would the farmland remain intact?

Even so, he said the war should not end quickly. To win, they would have to wear down Count Molsen's strength.

Deep down, he was likely also counting on dragging things out until the knight orders intervened on their own.

"You said you would decline intervention by the knights? You should not have done that."

No, he spoke plain truth.

If victory was the goal, they should not pick and choose methods. He was right.

To all those words, Crang only showed a faint smile. The weather was clear, and the sunlight was warm. Summer would come soon.

It was the season when insect songs grew louder.

"Fine weather."

Crang said.

Marcus came in late, saw the hardened faces of the two marquises, and asked,

"Did you curse him out or something?"

Marcus could be called utterly loyal. If the two marquises had joined on conditions, or because they could not tolerate the other side, Marcus had staked everything on Crang the man.

"Your grace is slipping, Marcus."

"Since when did you care about my grace?"

Marcus shot back at the marquis and stood beside his lord.

"You are ending it in one go, right?"

It was a natural question.

"I should. My guts are too small to do it twice."

Crang answered.

"Oh, one time because your guts are small? That is a fine way to mock those of us with truly small guts."

Marcus quipped.

"What do you mean, ending it in one go?"

It was Marquis Baisar speaking. He was an old politician who almost never showed surprise. Even so, he could not let those words pass.

They meant staking everything on a single battle.

"If we drag this civil war out, what will be left of this land?"

Crang asked back with a smile.

"If we fail to win this civil war, we lose everything in our hands."

A sound argument.

"Then we win."

"With a crowd like that, does victory look easy to you?"

"Are you underestimating the Count's strength?"

"Neither. We do everything we can. For the rest, all we can do is pray the goddess of fortune smiles."

"We must make sure it does not come to that."

Victory, even if it sickened the nation.

Crang shook his head inwardly.

Still, it was not that he could not understand the two men before him.

Lose, and you lose everything. That was how they saw this fight. Crang looked farther.

Winning alone could not be the end.

Count Molsen would likely try to end it in a single battle as well.

To both of them, that was only natural.

If one sought the throne, and wanted that throne to remain the king's seat even afterward, then it had to be done that way.

He could not become a beast devoured by scavengers after the battle ended.

Rihinshtetten in the south, Azpen in the east.

There were still many enemies. The threat of the Cursed Grounds was still terrifying.

So it had to end here, now, in one stroke, with the strength they currently had.

"Broader, larger."

"The threat from the Cursed Grounds grows every year, and we keep losing territory. I do not want to stand by and watch that."

Crang cut out everything else and spoke of what lay ahead. The two marquises were not fools. They both understood.

After the civil war, Crang was drawing the future.

The two marquises fell silent.

"My chest is too narrow to grasp so grand a vision right now."

Then Marcus tossed in something that was almost a joke.

It was an old saying.

It sounded half like mockery, but what it really meant was this, if understanding Crang's intent was difficult, then should they not trust him and follow him anyway?

The two marquises understood, of course.

That did not mean they let it pass.

"That tongue of his will bring him trouble one day."

"I have said it many times, but he never fixes it."

The two marquises criticized Marcus in refined tones, and Marcus laughed and followed his lord.

Crang stepped outside.

It was time to face the gathered nobles, guild masters, merchants, and others.

He needed their strength. They had no abundance of legitimacy or troops.

More than anything, to fight properly, they had to become one.

It would be best if all of them shared the same will, but if that was difficult, they could still be bound around a common center.

And if even that failed, he could set terms.

The thought came to him again.

Was this an unfavorable fight?

Crang immediately rejected the self-mocking question.

Since when had he only fought favorable battles?

An unfavorable position did not mean defeat.

At his side stood a man who had turned the impossible into possible.

Even half of what Enkrid had shown would be enough.

Even half the luck Enkrid always talked about would be enough.

The first button had to be fastened here.

Crang climbed the platform, stood in the good sunlight, and looked over everyone.

The murmuring crowd naturally fell silent.

"Did you sleep well?"

That was his first line.

A few exchanges followed. Noble sighs, thoughts, and worries spilled out.

Crang listened to all of it, then quietly raised his hand and swept it down. That brief gesture, and the words that followed, sealed their mouths.

"I believe we will win. Do you not?"

Confident of victory? On what grounds?

"Baron Zepl, I hear your light-armored infantry is so swift that no one can match it in the forest."

Zepl commanded a ranger force he fed, housed, and raised in the woods.

He himself was the sort who would leap up from sleep if hunting was involved.

"...Yes."

"And Baron Ludin, I hear you are an excellent spearman."

"My skill is lacking."

"For lacking skill, I hear you once dreamed of joining a knight order. Am I mistaken?"

"It was a childhood dream."

They said his skill surpassed that of a squire. Crang smiled faintly.

"I say one time is enough. Just one time."

His voice spread across the wide training grounds, then quickly faded.

And yet, Crang's words seemed to linger.

As if they hung in the air, as if they were being carved into their minds.

His arms hung loose at his sides, and he wore only a faint smile.

He did not look like a warrior king, nor did he look like a great strategist.

But he still seemed like someone they could trust. If he were a fraud, he would have been a legendary one.

But he was not a fraud. He was the next king, and the current head of this faction.

"How will you fight?"

"He asked us to meet at Nauril Plains, so that is what we will do."

His tone was as calm as if he were saying he would go greet a friend visiting from the far side of the city.

That calm and composure gave them faith instead.

Faith that victory was certain.

Some had followed Crang from the start.

"I have fifty well-trained spearmen under my command. It is not many, but please use them well!"

One noble began.

"My skill is humble, but I will stand at the front."

"I have stockpiled grain. I will send wheat and beans."

Others added their voices.

If anxiety could not be erased, then let faith cover it.

"Believe. We will win."

That was what Crang did.

Without any grand speech, he made those who remained belong to one purpose.

A single battle, and that would be enough.

"And what if Count Molsen is planning otherwise?"

The Marquis of Okto muttered.

He was called a genius in internal affairs, but battle was different. War was not his specialty.

Crang had stepped down from the platform when he answered.

"Count Molsen is ambitious, and far too clever. So he will."

* * *

A month passed quickly.

"Not a single knight is coming?"

At his guard and adjutant's question, Count Molsen adjusted his armor and answered.

"You must be disappointed."

"Yes."

"So am I."

His forces had been assembled on the assumption that the knight orders would intervene.

And now they were to fight without knights?

Arrogance. Insolent bastard.

Clank.

He wore armor layered with steel plates, and in his hand he held the magic sword that symbolized the Count. Fully armed, he declared:

"At the plains of Nauril, I will end the royal house."

Bwooooooo!

The Count's troops, camped on the plains, sounded their horn bugles.

It was the signal to come out and fight.

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