WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 750: Are We at War?

= = =

Enkrid and his group headed south. Along the way, Odd-Eye turned back. The horse had apparently come out to meet him in earnest.

South, more precisely, toward the Cursed Ground where the Balrok was said to be.

The exact location of the one called the Demon of Strife was unknown. They were walking a road built on rumor and hearsay. That said, they were not without a way to find it.

'Balrok love to fight.'

They were said to enjoy battling the strong and to collect souls.

Then was it not a simple matter of positioning themselves somewhere the creature was likely to appear and singing it a serenade of temptation?

Enkrid's plan was to splash black blood everywhere and belt out that serenade at the top of his lungs.

Surprisingly, Krais and Abnaier both nodded and said it had merit.

The Balrok was a name shrouded in legend, but through research and confirmation they had pinned down habits grounded in fact, so they judged the idea worth trying.

Call it out for a fight, and it would come. The noise just had to be loud enough.

The safe road through Border Guard territory had expanded beyond any comparison to what it once was, so they had to pass through several checkpoints.

"Iron Wall!"

The salute came with a battle cry. That Iron Wall, the Iron Wall of the Knight of the Iron Wall. It was the final checkpoint marking the end of the safe road.

Enkrid gave a loose wave to return the salute and passed through.

Among the soldiers watching them leave, the checkpoint commander with a sharper head tilted his in puzzlement.

"Are we at war?"

The senior soldier beside him shook his head.

"I haven't heard anything like that, sir."

The commander hadn't heard anything either. And there was no one to fight, above all else.

The Madman Knights of Border Guard had lately come to be called the Labyrinth of the frontier.

The reason such a strange nickname stuck, if you thought it through.

'Because it draws everyone in and swallows them whole.'

That was exactly right.

Exterminating Cultists, they had never actually gone out hunting for them. Every last one had come knocking and picked the fight themselves.

The apostate faction worshipping the Gray God? Same story.

The Black Blade Bandits or Count Molsen, who triggered the civil war, might look a little different on the surface, but whatever the case, the fact that the Madman Knights had chewed them all up and swallowed them did not change.

"I heard the trading city has been making trouble lately?"

The commander was tuned in to rumors. He believed that knowing more was what let a man live long. And nothing was quite as entertaining as the rumors floating around, anyway.

"Think they're heading to burn the trading city down?"

With that much firepower, even the trading city, for all its deep roots across the continent, would never be able to hold out.

"The direction doesn't point that way, sir."

A junior soldier cut in with his own observation. To his eyes as well, those people moving together in a group was simply strange.

Were they really going to war?

"Right, that's probably not it."

The southern front had been quiet lately. He'd heard that provocations from that side had dropped off noticeably.

There had been a lot of talk about some upheaval or other at the royal palace recently. Was it because of that?

'Going to go cut down all the nobles?'

The gray-haired madman known as the noble slaughterer happened to be traveling with them too.

'Probably not.'

His thoughts were getting ahead of him. The reason was unknown. But if this wasn't a war footing, the mere sight of all of them moving together would be enough to make quite a few people flinch.

The commander watched the departing group. Particularly the black-haired man standing at their center.

According to the captain of the Vengeance garrison, he used to be just a Low-Rank Soldier.

'Hard to believe.'

Of course that claim lost all credibility the moment you looked at him.

The checkpoint stood high. High enough to see clearly.

Look at them moving off into the distance. The falling sunlight slid down their backs and stretched behind them as shadow.

They were a group that could reshape the ground beneath them just by walking.

The commander's guess was not wrong.

* * *

The mayor of the trading city had every nerve on edge over the Madman Knights' movements.

Why the sudden mass deployment?

'Are they applying pressure?'

Telling them to stop pushing? They had been spinning excuse after excuse to avoid direct military confrontation, but were those the kind of people who'd let that work on them?

Could the trading city's pride and joy, the Ten Mercenaries, stop them? Could they even hold a conversation? Could there be some minimum of negotiation?

Winning wasn't even a dream. But could they at least show some spine?

The mercenary captain happened to be present at the meeting.

The mayor studied him. Without a word, a look was enough to ask the question.

The captain was a man with a long scar across his face, a veteran who had done every kind of work imaginable in his youth. He had been captured by enemy forces, had his fingernails and toenails ripped out under torture, and refused to break, earning him the nickname the Indomitable Mercenary.

A symbol of patience that never surrendered and endured to the very end.

The spiritual pillar of all mercenaries, second only to the eastern Mercenary King.

"Surrender."

That was what he said.

"...What?"

"Surrender. If we fight, we all die."

He was firm about it.

The mercenary who looked like a symbol of indomitability and defiance, who had held out under torture and thrown himself into battles anyone could see were lost, spoke with absolute certainty.

Thud.

His hand came down on the table. It seemed to lend his words more weight.

"Surrender!"

The shout was loud. The meeting ended there.

Spine, he said.

The Madman Knights hadn't even been heading their way, yet the clever merchant faction that had been putting up obstacles on the Stone Road and angling for profit went ahead and raised the white flag first.

That was how formidable the Madman's reputation was.

Krais, handling various matters back in Border Guard, tilted his head wondering what scheme the trading city was running when it suddenly started proposing cooperation and even offering to open a bank in Border Guard, then pieced together the before and after not long after.

'One move from the commander and it's absolute chaos.'

Leona Rockfreed was satisfied. The trading city had been quietly pulling all sorts of underhanded tricks lately and it had been giving her a headache, but that business resolved itself in a snap.

And this was only the first thing.

* * *

"We asked about qualifications!"

The title of Pope was traditionally conferred in the holy city of Legion. That was the rule and the custom.

The blessing of every high priest gathered here formed the baseline condition for electing the Pope who led Legion. It was not a vote but a format where the proceedings did not end until everyone had agreed.

In other words, it could take years until they reached consensus.

The previous Pope had vanished without a trace, leaving a deep wound in Legion. Recently, apostates who worshipped the Gray God had appeared as well.

A turbulent situation, a turbulent age, either description fit.

Precisely because of this, Legion needed drastic measures.

The first thing said was.

"We must welcome a new Pope."

That was it.

The first proposal was to bring someone from the Empire who had awakened divine power. Naturally, the Church held real influence in the Empire too. The Empire itself was not a theocratic state, but that did not mean the Church's power was negligible there.

Since divine power was real, proving that power meant you could claim a pillar of authority, naturally enough.

"I believe there is no better method than this."

Holy Knight Overdier was certain the one who said that was an Imperial spy, but compared to falling into apostasy or joining a cult, it was not a capital offense.

You couldn't crush someone's skull just for taking the Empire's side a little.

"If one of the high priests were to put themselves forward, a result probably wouldn't emerge even after a hundred years."

Even a spy, the one who raised the idea was a person who had lived for Legion and served the gods.

Those who worshipped the Gray God or had half lost their minds, the majority had already been sent to the gods' side.

Even the one suspected of being an Imperial spy had an accurate read on the current situation.

High priests held a position of mutual checks and balances. Within Legion they were high priests, but they were also the Popes of their respective churches.

So for one of them to become Pope.

'They would have to show something extraordinary.'

They would need to display divine power that made even a Holy Man look like a child.

There was one among the Apostles who had that level of ability, though he was not the Pope, but he served the war god and was no longer affiliated with Legion.

Even if present, it would have been pointless.

Those who served the war god had sworn to their lord that they would not involve themselves in Legion's internal power struggles, so they were not at the assembly at all.

Had that not been the case, they would have been a considerable asset.

Overdier did not untangle the knotted situation. He had no intention of resolving it. It was not his role, and he lacked the ability for it. Overdier was a Holy Knight.

He was the sword and shield of the Church, not its tongue or its prophet.

That said, he was not without something to contribute. Recommending a candidate for Pope was surely within reason.

It was also something he had been working toward.

"If the goddess of fortune looks down upon the world through favoritism, then the goddess of the scales watches over it by maintaining balance at all times."

Overdier's voice carried weight. No one ignored him. That was true even of the high priests.

He already had the precedent of dealing with a traitor of high priest caliber not long before.

Some of Legion's power brokers cast uneasy glances. If Overdier made up his mind right now, full authority over the Church would dance in the palm of his hand.

The Holy Knight Order currently held that much influence. They were the ones who had carved out the Church's rot, and they held the military force.

Of course, with the war god's Apostles watching from the sidelines, it was practically impossible for Overdier to seize Legion by force.

"The God of the Scales appears indifferent, and yet is always impartial."

One of the high priests aligned with Overdier's words.

Each church had its own Pope, but the Pope of Legion was a position of an entirely different order.

Put plainly, you could say it meant becoming the leader of the holy city by receiving recognition from every Pope.

A little more plainly than that, it was fair to call it being the king of Legion.

"The scales have tipped toward this unworthy one. On behalf of all Holy Knights, I will recommend a candidate for Pope."

Overdier nodded and added his words.

That was how he introduced Noah, and in response, one of the cardinals under a high priest began pressing him, demanding to know about qualifications.

"Can the seat of Pope truly suit someone who cannot even wield divine power?"

The questions kept coming, relentless, and Overdier first set down his oath of loyalty, then brought out the measure he had prepared.

"I call upon the Ragged Holy Man."

Audin's foster father, who had been at Border Guard, stepped forward. The blind-feigning old man tapped his cane against the floor and bowed his head to Noah.

"The lord above will handle things as he sees fit, but if he judges that my opinion may be of some help, I offer it here."

He was someone who had previously served as the Pope of Legion. Of course, few in the room knew that, and those who did chose not to say it.

Even so, a name's worth does not simply disappear.

That said, Audin's foster father had come here only under the name of the Ragged Holy Man, so the weight those words carried was not quite enough.

Noah said nothing.

Swaying them through a speech was difficult, but worth attempting.

The problem was whether, even persuaded, they would all rally behind him as one.

Beyond that, a question still remained inside Noah himself.

'Am I truly worthy?'

It had all started from a desire to look after children who had lost their parents.

He had wanted the children who might otherwise become pickpockets or thieves to serve the gods, copy out scriptures, and live by that.

The wish was small, and the hope even smaller.

And yet, was he really entitled to take on a responsibility this great?

"Just the two of them? The Holy Knight Order's reputation is acknowledged, but who else is there to champion him?"

One of the high priests called out sharply.

Overdier felt the strain. Yes, he had figured it might come to this.

"The king of Naurillia endorses him."

Right around when an official letter of support from the king of Naurillia arrived and yet people still seemed to feel it was not quite enough,

The news of the Madman Knights' march sent a tremor through the continent.

Where exactly were they headed? What were they moving for?

And a problem arose. When their movements were confirmed, they were heading toward Legion.

"Um, did you say you have some connection to the commander of the Madman Knights?"

A high priest asked during the assembly, but Noah could not answer. The unexpected news about Enkrid had struck him with a mild shock.

More precisely, it was something closer to a sudden realization.

Enkrid had never actually said such a thing to him in real life, but it felt as though he had just been scolded by him.

Noah's eyes went unfocused, and a tongue-lashing came down on him.

In a vision, the Enkrid inside it spoke to him in a calm, measured tone.

"What kind of nonsense is that. Your wish is small? Your hope is smaller? Then let's hear what you think is a bigger aspiration."

Hard to answer. Enkrid continued.

"There are no modest dreams in this world, Noah."

A wish has no size. It was something he had briefly forgotten.

"Do you have a connection or not?"

At the high priest's question, focus returned to Noah's eyes. It was time to answer in the real world.

"He is a friend."

At those words, one of the high priests swallowed hard.

The infamy of the Madman Knights rang louder outside the area around Border Guard than it did within it. That was how things stood now.

They had done so many things by this point.

"Are they going to make war on Legion?"

The Ragged Holy Man muttered it. He knew that would never happen, but it was more than enough to put the fear into them.

"Why?"

One of the cardinals asked.

Overdier added some seasoning.

"An Apostle of the Gray God struck them. If we're assigning blame, it falls on us. I thought I had better be ready to receive them at any moment."

The commander of the Holy Knights was leaving his post. A difficult situation. And Legion had no leader to put forward.

Someone had to step up and receive them, but who was the right person?

The man named Noah that Overdier had recommended came to mind. The Holy Knight Order had sworn to do nothing without his permission, the king of Naurillia, counted among the continent's strongest, had personally stepped forward as his sponsor, and the Ragged Holy Man, whose name rang louder than any Holy Man or Holy Maiden in Legion, was standing on his side.

And on top of all that, he was a friend of the commander of the Madman Knights.

The seat of Legion's Pope was always going to end up with Noah, even without the Madman Knights' march.

"Give me that seat."

The man called Noah, who had been standing quietly all this while, showed his will for the first time.

That was how Legion's Pope was decided.

Right around that moment, Enkrid was running into Magic Beasts and Demon Creatures, happily talking swordsmanship with the Madman Knights as they went.

= = =

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