WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Ryuu

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 62: A Knight Must Never Harbor Shame in His Heart

"Wait here for a moment. I'll send someone over."

Just because he got permission didn't mean they could leave immediately. When he returned to the quarters, the squad members were waiting like baby birds for their mother bird.

"Get ready."

With one word, the situation was conveyed.

"Oh, I knew it. The squad leader always pulls through!"

"Excellent."

Rem and Jaxon each made a remark, and the others began to move as well. They needed to at least gather some equipment.

"For now, wait. Orders will come soon."

"Alright."

No matter what he said now, it would be taken well. It was rare to see the entire squad united like this. Even when Ragna and Rem bumped into each other while moving, they just passed by without a word, not even a single snide comment.

"You sly alley cat, got any spare cloaks? It's bloody cold."

Rem particularly hated the cold. Jaxon shook his head at Rem's words. Normally, this would have led to a fight, but it passed smoothly.

‘They’re getting along.’

How nice it would be if they could always step back and live like this. Of course, it was just wishful thinking. Watching the busy squad members, Enkrid sat on his bed.

Soon, someone sent by the company commander arrived.

"What did you do to get the entire squad assigned to this mission?"

It was the fourth platoon leader, a messenger from the company commander.

"We're going to track the lead on the assassins. The Thieves’ Guild."

"...Be careful. Even a knight's grandfather can't dodge a dagger from behind. Thieves are dangerous."

The platoon leader gave a word of caution with an old proverb.

A dagger to the back.

Once upon a time, a general who ruled the continent was killed by a dagger from a subordinate he trusted deeply. It’s an old tale, not quite a legend but not really history either. Whether it actually happened is unknown.

As Enkrid nodded in understanding,

"No, a knight can dodge it."

Ragna spoke.

"Even if you're not a knight, you can dodge it."

Jaxon agreed.

"If you get stabbed in the back without putting up a fight, you're an idiot."

Rem concluded.

No sooner had the platoon leader finished speaking than the three of them jumped in.

"Forget it."

The platoon leader shook his head and left. Permission was granted, after all.

"Let's go."

Enkrid stood up and said. The weather was colder than the day before, making the quarters feel like an icebox.

As for equipment, Rem only had his hand axe. Ragna had the arming sword he exchanged with Enkrid before. Jaxon only had a sword that looked like a short sword. Audin carried two short, oil-soaked clubs at his waist.

"Stealing is bad. Let's go teach them a lesson."

Audin said, stepping forward. Rem chuckled at his words.

"Right. Stealing is bad."

Though their equipment was simple, Jaxon was bundled up in thick fur clothes, making him look sluggish. Ragna wore a patched-up, tattered cloak that even a passing beggar wouldn't want.

The most ridiculous was Rem.

"Are you going like that?"

Jaxon’s outfit was permissible, and Ragna's could be excused as well.

But this?

Rem had wrapped himself entirely in a blanket. He looked like a walking bed. He didn’t seem to intend to use his arms. Only his toes peeked out.

"I hate the cold."

Would reasoning work?

Enkrid chose efficiency. He ignored Rem.

"Let's go."

The Troublemaker Squad headed to the market.

"It might be dangerous."

Kraiss muttered to himself as he followed. He chose the risk of danger over shoveling snow until his arms swelled. He really hated shoveling snow.

Enkrid had a habit of endlessly reflecting on and reviewing fights after they ended. It was his way of surviving. This time was no different. The half-elf had used the whistling daggers and Rot to divert his attention.

‘A trick.’

A simple yet effective distraction. The goal was close combat. With one move, a decisive strike, the fight was to end. For some reason, the half-elf was a fan of aiming for the heart. This allowed him to predict the target area and, through repeated encounters, he had experienced the weapon’s form. He could calculate and fight accordingly.

‘If I had failed?’

Enkrid wondered.

‘Was I relying on luck?’

The half-elf might not have acted as he had calculated. That things went according to plan required some degree of luck. Enkrid questioned himself. On the first day, when he killed the stabbing freak.

Enkrid had relied on his full-strength thrust as his weapon. Not considering what would happen next, it was akin to gambling his life. Reflecting on that time, he recalled his mistake.

Had he made the same mistake this time?

This time, he hadn’t.

‘Even if I had used a different move.’

In the end, he would have still won. He was confident in his superior tactics and his prior skill. Even if the half-elf had fought seriously and Rot had remained behind him.

‘I would still have the upper hand.’

It wouldn’t have been as clean, and he might have gotten injured, but, reflecting, he repeated this process countless times.

While walking, he visualized different scenarios.

The patrol soldier who found Enkrid was surprised twice. First, at the sight of the corpses, and second, at seeing the troublesome squad leader who had become a high-ranking soldier.

A high-ranking soldier in name.

How many regular soldiers had displayed such skill?

Especially considering his previous lack of skill.

In conclusion, he was now recognized by others as no longer scraping the bottom in terms of swordsmanship. Yet, Enkrid pondered.

‘There might have been an easier way.’

His attitude made it hard to believe he had repeated the same day. Perhaps it was this attitude that allowed him to face each new day. As his thoughts wandered, Enkrid recalled his dream from the previous night.

‘Is there nothing else to do?’

The existence of the ferryman on the Black River was inexplicable. In the dream, the ferryman hadn’t mocked him as before. He simply stared and then spoke.

“What are you?”

A voice without a mouth. The emotion in the voice was conveyed clearly. Enkrid instinctively felt that the ferryman had intended to convey that emotion. It was curiosity, pure and untainted by disappointment, anger, or any other feeling.

He couldn't answer. It was just a dream, after all. Though it wasn't a normal dream.

"Squad Leader."

Enkrid stopped walking only when someone grabbed his arm from behind.

"Sorry, what did you say?"

He had been so lost in thought that he hadn't heard what was said to him.

"I said, with that mindset, you're bound to get stabbed by a thief."

Rem said. It hadn’t seemed like a long speech. Most of all, Rem himself looked like he’d get stabbed and die wrapped up in that blanket if they went in now. Ignoring Rem, Jaxon spoke.

"Do you have a plan?"

A plan? What plan?

Enkrid felt the same curiosity he had felt in the dream with the ferryman.

"Are you thinking of storming the Thieves’ Guild without any information? Do you even know where their headquarters is?"

Jaxon asked, crossing his arms. His thick clothes made his elbows look funny, but Jaxon didn’t mind.

The Thieves’ Guild involved in pickpocketing, human trafficking, and other crimes.

Its name was Gielpin.

Commonly known as the Thieves’ Guild, it was essentially a crime organization. Would such people openly reveal their headquarters and activities?

No. They hid like parasites in the city's shadows and back alleys.

"I don’t know."

"You need to plan first."

"Were you really going to go without any idea?"

Rem asked, joining the conversation. Ragna kept quiet, blowing warm breath into the cold air. Audin just smiled.

"Did you really not think about it?"

Kraiss asked with his big eyes fixed on Enkrid.

"I thought you would know their headquarters."

"No matter how much I know, how would I know the Guild’s location? Trying to find out would get me killed."

Kraiss mimicked a throat-cutting gesture with his hand.

Would a crime guild kill a standing army? Did they have that much power? Would they really do such a thing?

Actually, he hadn't cared. He had no time or energy to spare for such concerns.

"Have you never carried out a small-scale operation?"

Jaxon asked again, seeming to reprimand Enkrid for leading the squad without a proper plan. Enkrid was at a loss for words.

What had his life been like so far?

He had been too busy trying to survive. He spent his days carving out time to swing his sword one more time. He hadn’t had time to learn about strategy. Though he had experience as a mercenary. He had served as a squad leader.

He had participated in small operations multiple times but the flow of battle and small operations outside were entirely different. In battle, leading a small reconnaissance squad was familiar territory, but this was different.

Moreover.

‘That was.’

It was a result of desperate thinking for survival, not moving based on meticulous strategy. All of it was learned at the cost of lives.

Should he do the same now?

Should he throw himself into the cycle of death and repetition again?

Enkrid stopped walking. The biting cold wind penetrated his cloak and brushed his side. A chilling wind.

‘I don’t want to do that.’

He didn’t want to use repeating the day as a method. The pain of death wasn’t something he welcomed. Moreover, his instinct told him it wasn’t necessary.

Then what should he do?

He hadn’t come without any thought. He had considered a common approach.

"Can't we find out by asking around? No matter how well they hide, the locals know everything."

There are no secrets in this world. Secrets are completed by death. When the only person who knows the secret dies, no one else can learn it. A crime organization couldn’t hide itself completely.

Therefore, someone knew.

"That won’t work. The Gielpin are known for cutting off loose ends and being terrifying. Even if you grab a low-ranking member and grill them, they wouldn’t know anything. And if they slip up and talk, Gielpin would break all their limbs and cut their tongue."

They controlled their organization through fear of retaliation.

So how?

He couldn’t think of an immediate method. He could always struggle to survive and think about it. If this were a battlefield, he would know how to hold his position strategically.

But this wasn’t such a situation.

"Squad Leader, give us orders."

Lost in thought, Ragna spoke, looking up at the sky and exhaling. Enkrid's eyes turned to Ragna. With a sword in hand, he had few equals in swordsmanship.

Enkrid's view of Ragna. Usually, Ragna was lazy and careless. He often got lost and dropped things from his pockets. But sometimes, just sometimes, Ragna could hit the mark perfectly. As if he held a sword.

"The leader just needs to give orders. Let those who know how to carry them out do the rest."

That one line. Ragna's softly spoken words were heavy and significant to Enkrid. He was the leader. That was his role.

Squad Leader, the head of the squad.

Had Enkrid been leading the squad until now?

‘Was I the squad leader?’

No. It was difficult for someone with poor skills, busy surviving, to lead a group. Especially when each squad member was highly skilled. But Ragna's words changed the situation.

"Alright."

Rem acknowledged. Jaxon nodded slightly.

"That’s right. Brother, that's how leaders do it."

Audin agreed.

"It’s true, but why?"

Only Kraiss seemed out of place. He had always considered Enkrid his leader in his heart.

"True. You’re right. Jaxon, do you have a way?"

Jaxon, known for equivalent exchange, also dealt in information. Kraiss's information was shallow and wide, while Jaxon's was narrow and deep.

"I do."

"Tell me."

"Get an inn in the market and wait. I'll be back before sundown."

Instead of explaining, he said he’d leave.

"Trust me to find out."

"Fine. Let's go to the inn."

Once decided, there was no looking back. Enkrid did just that. On the way to the inn, though not yet in the heart of the market, there weren’t many people around, but on the well-trodden dirt path, Enkrid spoke his thoughts.

"We’ll find the guild's headquarters and wipe it out."

The opponent was a crime organization. Even if they had no evidence, using force to crush them wouldn’t raise many objections. Though it might put holes in the nobles’ and battalion commander’s pockets.

‘What does that matter?’

A knight must never harbor shame in his heart. Just as he saw, heard, learned, and dreamed as a child. Enkrid had lived that way.

He intended to continue doing so.

Join our discord at https://dsc.gg/wetried