WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 413: A Grand Coronation

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Maybe it was because of the specter the count summoned at the very end, but Enkrid could still smell that dull stench clinging to his body.

"Prepare hot water and a bath. No attendants."

As soon as he returned to the royal palace, Enkrid washed, ate, and slept.

Rem, Ragna, Audin, and Jaxon were no different.

It was after all of them had slept deeply and finally gotten up.

A healer came by in the middle of it, trying to treat everyone, but all of them refused.

"I know my body best."

Rem said that and sent him away.

"This is the punishment I've been given."

Audin was the same.

Ragna waved him off, and Jaxon flat-out pretended he was not hurt at all.

Muttering that he had never seen patients this stubborn, the healer turned to leave.

As he turned, he lowered his head toward Enkrid.

"Thank you."

It was unexpected. Even so, the healer's tone was completely sincere.

Enkrid still had not clearly grasped what he had done.

The schedule had been too exhausting for that.

Just because the battle ended did not mean the work was over. Preparation had always been bigger than war itself, and the cleanup afterward was bigger still.

There was a saying: a general who fights well wins battles, a general who prepares well wins combat, and a general who handles the aftermath well wins wars.

That was how important post-battle cleanup was.

It was the same now.

They still had to deal with the count's remaining forces, recover dropped equipment, and break camp.

After all that, they still had to march.

They had to return to the royal palace, after all.

Even with the joy of victory, finishing all of that in three days was impressive.

No, Enkrid could not judge battlefield command, but Marcus stood out in this kind of work.

He handled all of it brilliantly.

It was also possible because Crang did not waste time on pointless victory speeches.

"I think everyone needs rest. Is it really that important to listen to a speech from someone who just watched from the back? Instead of wasting time on that crap, it would be better to wrap one more bandage around an injured soldier's arm."

Crang openly showed his face while caring for the wounded.

He moved around so openly that few people even recognized him as the prince and the next king.

In truth, not many soldiers even knew Crang's face.

He had the skill to raise morale and stir soldiers to a fever with speeches when needed, but right now he treated that as unimportant.

Crang was the kind of man who proved his words through action.

Only after the battlefield had been fully cleaned up did Enkrid and the others return.

While receiving the healer's thanks, Enkrid asked, thoughts still turning in his head.

"Do you know me?"

"My son fought in that battle."

The healer spoke with a limp.

"If not for this leg, I would have gone too."

Then he turned away. He was not thanking Enkrid for saving his son.

His son was dead.

No words could bring the dead back, and the healer felt as if his chest were being torn apart.

Still, maybe there was one small mercy.

If that battle had ended in defeat, his son's death would have meant nothing. The fact that it had not was his only comfort.

Everyone else was drunk on victory and joy. Victory in the civil war, survival from an impossible battle, and the joy of those who lived.

Those feelings filled the royal palace and the capital.

Word spread that there would be a coronation. Craftsmen were already crowding the center of the capital, building structures to honor it. A festival would open soon, and once everything was fully settled, merit awards and banquets would follow day after day.

Even so, some had lost family and lovers.

Please rest in peace.

The healer said that to his son in his heart and left. Enkrid watched his back for a while, then headed to bed.

The whisper that a son who went to war had died stayed in his ears.

Esther must have been exhausted too. In panther form, she stayed in his arms and would not leave.

After sleeping well, Enkrid got up and loosened his body as usual with the Isolation Technique.

Even merit awards had to wait until things were mostly settled around them.

That would take at least ten days.

Enkrid kept living exactly as he always did.

He visited Odd-Eye and fed him a mix of meat and vegetables instead of plain feed, and he met Andrew and the trainees.

The trainees had gone from five to four.

"And the last one?"

"He lost a leg. Even divine power can't regrow a missing leg."

One trainee had lost his leg. The battle had been that fierce. While Enkrid carved through waves of Specter Soldiers, the other soldiers had not been idle either.

Enkrid nodded.

They had gone out there by their own will. The right thing was to respect that choice.

"He said he wished he were a Frog."

Andrew said it calmly.

Neither Enkrid nor Andrew had lived easy enough lives to be shaken by one thing like this.

"Never again."

Andrew spoke in a flat voice, staring into empty air. He let out that one phrase, paused, then continued like a vow.

It was not for Enkrid. It was for himself.

"I won't stand by and watch my people get hurt."

Enkrid nodded.

He also heard that the trainee who lost his leg had become a butler candidate.

He did not look especially depressed.

"Once I get used to it, a prosthetic should be fine. Better than dying."

He was mentally strong.

Enkrid patted his shoulder once and turned away.

"Thanks to you, thanks to you I lived."

"You lived because you fought well."

Enkrid answered calmly, and he meant it. He believed that man had saved his own life with his own hands. He also heard the trainee had a fiancee.

Enkrid had seen her in passing too, and she looked bold.

"If he's missing one leg, so what? I'll feed us both!"

She was a formidable woman.

Crang was so busy Enkrid could not even catch a glimpse of him. Marcus was the same.

A few days later, Eisia came to visit, but Enkrid was not in condition for a serious spar.

When he carefully said as much,

"...Do you have nothing to do besides fight?"

Eisia looked baffled instead.

Enkrid changed the subject.

"No other trouble in the royal palace?"

"What trouble would there be? It's packed with our people now, so nobody can complain. A few idiot nobles are probably still around, but that'll sort itself out. More than that, they keep screaming that we need to prepare the enthronement and make it the grandest one possible, all that bullshit."

The Crang Enkrid knew was broad-minded and large-hearted. But people changed. Had he not seen that again and again?

He had seen a mercenary who would risk his life for a friend stab that same comrade in the back for a single gold coin.

He had seen a father throw his adopted son to demon creatures just to survive.

That bastard had started as a decent man too. He changed only when cornered.

Did they not say anyone could become like that after holding out twenty days surrounded by demon creatures?

Enkrid had challenged that man to a duel.

He had lost, but killed him. That had happened too.

So Crang could change as well.

A grand coronation.

It was his turn. He had won and sent the victory report. With victory in the civil war, he had become the legitimate heir to the throne.

Enkrid found himself wanting to return to the Border Guard.

The sky was dimming. It looked like rain again.

"How's your body?"

Eisia asked.

"Pretty decent. I can't risk half my life right now, but a light spar should be fine."

A proper bout was difficult, but a light exchange should be fine. Resting was the right answer, but right now he felt like moving more.

Eisia nodded and drew a wooden sword.

"Didn't I say light spar?"

Enkrid said that when he saw it, and Eisia tilted her head.

Isn't that exactly why it's a wooden sword?

"Light spar."

Instead of his broken Silver, Enkrid drew a longsword he had picked up and roughly restored. He had spent two full days sharpening it.

"How is any of that light?"

Eisia said as she leveled her sword, while Rem, Ragna, Audin, Jaxon, and Pel watched.

As soon as the battle ended, Pel had abruptly introduced himself and inserted himself into their group.

"I am Pel of the Shepherds of the Wilderness."

Light brown hair, a little taller than Kraiss, and a clearly well-trained body and posture.

"I watched your performance on the battlefield."

Everyone looked at him like, so what? But Pel had thick skin.

Shepherds were shameless by nature, and even among the Shepherds of the Wilderness, Pel was the one who stubbornly insisted on using a sword.

"Let me observe."

He said it boldly. Enkrid recognized him, looked a little surprised, then nodded as if it were nothing.

To be honest, Enkrid was curious too.

So it was that shepherd from then.

His posture was different now. The aura around him had changed too. It proved his skill had changed.

With Pel watching too, the light spar ended.

He had already watched Enkrid on the battlefield.

Unbelievable.

Pel had honestly thought there might not be anyone with more talent than himself.

He had gone to Enkrid that night and sparred him, and though he had been pushed back then, he believed he had caught up by now.

But Enkrid's sword had become harder and sharper than before.

Not even comparable.

He had grown far more than when they had last crossed blades.

More than anything, seeing that sword made Pel's blood boil. He was aggressive by nature, yes, but this was different.

His hand hovered near his hilt because he wanted to clash right now.

"...When will your body be fully healed?"

Pel asked.

"You're last, kid."

"Heh heh, brother. You must keep order. Before the Lord there is no order, but here there is."

"Go drink more sheep milk first."

"..."

"How about you get through me first?"

The order was Rem, Audin, Ragna, Jaxon, then Dunbakel. Teresa silently stayed busy taking in every movement Enkrid made.

Jaxon also gave Pel one hard glare in the middle of it.

"...Yes, let's do that."

Pel could not push it further. Every person making those comments looked dangerous.

He could not even gauge Dunbakel, that Beastfolk.

Would he lose? That thought did not cross his mind once.

The best food came last anyway. Knocking everyone down first and then facing Enkrid did not sound bad at all.

Pel trusted his own talent.

He even thought he would catch all of them within half a year at most.

Anyone could be mistaken.

After finishing the spar with Eisia, Enkrid felt his body creaking here and there.

He had recovered quickly, but he was still not in perfect condition.

On the fifth day, when his condition had mostly returned, a summons came from the royal palace.

"You must attend."

The Marquis of Okto came in person.

"Aren't you busy? You came all the way here just to call me?"

The Marquis of Okto was amazed that the man in front of him did not understand his own position.

"Know your standing."

Even the marquis himself could no longer speak carelessly to Enkrid.

If someone had to name one hero who led the civil war to victory, who would they choose?

Anyone would say Enkrid.

He was more than a hero who saved the nation. He now carried the title Demon Slayer.

The king himself called him a friend, and he displayed skill beyond anyone in the knight orders.

And what about the troops under him?

Every one of them was extraordinarily capable.

Should fighters of that level not belong in knight orders by default?

Yet all of them were tied to one man, Enkrid.

The politically sharp Marquis of Okto understood it by instinct.

Lose Enkrid, and they lost all of them.

He already knew several nobles had approached those men in secret.

Naturally, every one of them failed.

"So now you want me to take the gold you gave me and swing my axe for you? You still don't know my nickname? Go look it up first."

Noble Slayer Rem.

By openly saying he was a man who could cut down nobles, he sent a chill through every noble's spine.

He was insane.

Jaxon could not be met at all.

Audin only smiled and said he followed his god's teachings.

Ragna lightly ignored every summons.

Only Rem and Audin had actually granted meetings.

"But why is nobody calling me?"

Dunbakel voiced that small question, but no one answered her.

The Marquis of Okto was tempted too, but

there was no need to meddle and leave a bad impression for nothing.

The marquis was wise.

Enkrid did not actually care anyway.

"The coronation will be held."

Enkrid nodded at the marquis's words.

Had his friend changed after all?

Would that friend, who had looked farther than the throne itself, now be drunk on throne and crown?

For no reason, the healer who had lost his son came to mind again.

Five days later, Enkrid stood not in the royal palace banquet hall, but on a platform built in the center of the capital. A small tower had been raised there.

Crang stood on that platform with a smile.

He must have had mountains of work.

The coronation, merit awards, future policy, what the count had unleashed, chimeras, the chaos inside the Cursed Ground.

None of it could be ignored, yet this was the first thing Crang chose.

He built the tower and had names engraved on it, the names of the dead soldiers.

Even identifying every one of them must have taken immense effort.

Some surely hated this whole event.

He still did it.

"Will you speak before me?"

In front of the memorial stood a Spell Object with voice amplification sorcery.

Crang called Enkrid.

Enkrid climbed the platform.

Standing before the amplification object, Enkrid tried to choose his words, then gave up.

The healer had lost his son.

Did what that son did mean nothing?

No one knew yet. Nobody knew the future.

Still, Enkrid hoped it had meaning to the man himself.

"To those people."

He said that one phrase, caught his breath, and continued.

"In honor of those who died to protect friendship, family, lovers, and the backs behind them."

Among the people in the capital, some cried and some smiled.

Crang stepped forward after him.

"I honor those who died in my place."

Then he began reading the names on the memorial.

"Bin, Roktine, Raksan..."

The memorial rite was long.

At the end of all those words, Crang calmly declared that he had become the new king.

"By rightful will and purpose, I declare that I have become Naurillia's new king. I am Kdianat Langdiers Nauril."

The queen watched without a word, then placed the crown on him.

Applause rang out. There were no cheers.

What should this be called?

It was a memorial coronation.

Crang received the crown while honoring the dead.

Rain had been falling in a steady drizzle from the start of the ceremony.

Crang was soaked through. It had been like that on the battlefield too. Rain came often.

The pouring rain wrapped around the shoulders of those who had lost family, lovers, and friends.

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