Chapter 661

Chapter 661

“Eh?” “Should I refer to you as the master or the governor…?” It all began with a vendor selling fruit. “Greyham is the governor. I am simply the commander of the knights,” Enkrid answered the trader’s inquiry with a relaxed tone. He appeared entirely accustomed to such exchanges. “In that case, Commander, please take one of these.” With a knowing grin, the fruit seller offered him two plums. Enkrid tossed one into his mouth and handed the second to the Ragged Saint walking beside him. The saint, whose eyes were clouded by white cataracts, blinked as he took the fruit and bit down. Snap— The skin gave way with a crisp, wet sound. A sharp acidity transitioned into a deep, hidden sugary flavor, coating his palate with its maturity. The fragrance drifted up to his nostrils. It was a remarkably prime plum. “It’s sweet,” Enkrid noted. “It is indeed,” the Ragged Saint concurred. This was a treat made possible by the expansive new orchard recently planted in Greenperl. In truth, there were aristocrats living near the capital of Naurillia who maintained private groves just to taste such produce—so calling this a luxury was no overstatement. As they moved past a group of travelers, another merchant at a roadside stall hailed them. “I’ve joined up with the Lockfried Caravan for the time being.” This was no ordinary shopkeeper. A towering giant, identifying himself as a wandering trader, made the claim. Enkrid raised his forearm, indicating the fabric wrapped around it. “This material is holding up well.” It was a forearm guard made of cloth, reinforced with internal leather strips to maintain its form—crafted from the very textiles he had previously purchased from the giant. “Naturally. I don’t deal in garbage,” the giant countered, recognizing his handicraft. Curiously, his tone was more booming than usual. The Ragged Saint, having no reason to interfere, remained quiet at the periphery and watched the interaction. “What is your stock today?” Enkrid inquired. “Various bits and pieces.” The giant gestured to the diverse array of goods spread across his table—among the items were talismans and rings that looked rather sinister. “They claim it carries a hex—bringing nightmares every evening—but in return, it shields the wearer from a single stroke of calamity.” The giant’s thunderous voice drew the gazes of everyone nearby. Enkrid inspected the trinkets the giant presented. He could sense a subtle energy now—a sensation that would have eluded him before. ‘This must be the result of my sessions with Esther.’ That training, paired with the experience of slicing through Walking Fire incantations, had clearly sharpened his senses. Exactly as the giant claimed, the ring possessed an aura. A thin, dark haze hovered over the jewelry—though Enkrid was the only one capable of perceiving it. When traveling across the lands, one occasionally finds remote border settlements smaller than a full-sized city. Some are lucky enough to exist in regions free of beasts, while others survive by constantly repelling minor monster incursions. Within those hamlets are a few that conduct trade with local sorcerers or hags. This ring was almost certainly a product of such a place. It wasn’t a difficult deduction. Predictably, the giant provided a brief but transparent history of the object’s creation, though he seemed uncharacteristically chatty. He hadn’t been this detailed in the past. There was something about his demeanor that felt strangely welcoming. ‘Has he always been this descriptive?’ “I don’t believe I have a use for it,” Enkrid stated flatly. If he ever required such an artifact, he would have simply sought out Esther. “I suspected as much.” “Then why the long explanation?” Even while seated on the ground, the giant was nearly eye-level with Enkrid. He leaned in close and dropped his voice to a whisper. “So that everyone else would overhear.” Because of his physical stature and race, most commoners were hesitant to approach him, making sales difficult. Seeing Enkrid gave him a chance to stir up interest in the crowd. That explained the unnatural volume of his voice. ‘He’s turned into quite the businessman.’ Of course, the giant still wouldn’t violate the personal moral codes he lived by. That was simply his character. “You’ve become quite cunning,” Enkrid remarked with a soft laugh. The giant gave a solemn nod. “You may move along now.” “Right. I’m going.” Continuing their walk, Enkrid ran into several more people who seemed to know him well. In the eyes of the Ragged Saint, the knight even appeared to be on friendly terms with an innkeeper located near the heart of the city. “What brings you out here? If you’re hungry, have a serving of soup before you head off.” It was Allen, the owner of the inn. His ambition was to one day cook a broth that surpassed Vanessa’s pumpkin soup. Lately, he had been serving a poultry-based broth—a recipe his grandmother made whenever he caught a fever—and he marketed it with that sentimental tale on his menu. Because of that narrative, his sales were thriving. Naturally, it didn’t quite match the popularity of Vanessa’s legendary pumpkin soup, pumpkin tarts, or pumpkin cider. But Allen was content with his progress. Thanks to the Safe Road project and the development of Lockfried’s commercial hub, resources had become plentiful in Border Guard. Allen was enjoying the prosperity. ‘And they’ve even begun cultivation in Greenperl.’ The Ragged Saint had picked up rumors. Even with his failing vision, being this close—and a part of this circle—allowed him to perceive the reality more clearly. He had once described himself as a man who looked at the tiny twigs rather than the trunk of the tree. In simpler terms, he prioritized the daily lives of the citizens over the geopolitical status of the city. ‘Highly prosperous. Remarkably so.’ That was the saint’s conclusion. The cessation of hostilities with Azpen was a major factor. Now, the local population could utilize the wide-open plains for agriculture without the threat of monster raids. The consistent scouting missions through the Pen-Hanil mountain range had played a role as well. And the expansion toward the west via the Stone Road. Every factor had merged to create the city’s current wealth. However, wherever there is radiance, a shadow is cast as well. The Ragged Saint understood this fundamental law of existence better than most. And at that moment, that shadow began to move. Frokk were a race with the ability to heal their skin perfectly. Therefore, encountering one with a permanent mark was quite rare. And now, an especially intimidating Frokk with a pale scar across his throat was walking toward them. Was he seeking a confrontation? Or was he looking at the saint’s expensive ornaments with larceny in his heart? Perhaps he was a mercenary looking for a bounty. ‘Or could he be an assassin dispatched by the Holy Nation?’ He was none of those things. “It’s been a while.” The Frokk offered a casual greeting. Enkrid observed him for a moment before saying, “…Melon?” “The name is Meelun. Have you forgotten it already?” “Ah, that’s right. Meelun.” Despite Enkrid messing up his name, Meelun didn’t seem even slightly bothered. The Ragged Saint found this reaction unexpected. But for Meelun, this was just how things were. If he attempted a fight, he would perish from a single blade stroke. A misspoken name was a triviality. Meelun was a Frokk, and his kind lived by their gut feelings. He only required a bit of triumph or a feeling of progress to feel content. Consequently, he was satisfied with his current life. Following behind him, a hairless man stepped forward—clearly the sort of person who exerted his will in the dark corners of the city. He stepped out from a cramped, dim passage between the tightly packed buildings. The sun reflected off his smooth scalp. “Commander.” He walked over and addressed Enkrid. “Gilpin,” Enkrid answered without a moment’s delay. “How is it you remember his name?” Meelun grumbled. No one paid the comment any attention. “Are you searching for something?” Gilpin asked. “No. Just taking a stroll.” Only then did the bald man cast a look toward the Ragged Saint. The saint’s attire was flashy enough to entice any thief, yet there was no hint of avarice in the man’s expression. The Ragged Saint had failing eyes, but his hearing was incredibly sharp. It wasn’t exactly like a bat’s sonar, but it was refined enough to catch quiet whispers from a distance. That sensitivity also allowed him to understand people through a sort of spiritual intuition. While watching Enkrid, he also evaluated Gilpin. There wasn’t a single drop of cruelty or greed within him. At first glance, he looked like a member of an underworld guild—or something very similar. The Ragged Saint’s decades of traveling told him that much. Yet Gilpin showed no interest in him at all. “Is everything peaceful?” “With Commander Venzance supervising the town’s safety? What could possibly go wrong?” Despite the casual words, Gilpin carried heavy burdens. The spy network Kraiss had established was under his management, and he handled the internal order of the city. Because of the workload, he had actually thinned out—his cheeks were hollow. It was the expected result of laboring under Kraiss. The effort was significant, but Gilpin was happy with his lot in life. The Ragged Saint couldn’t entirely wrap his mind around it. Which made the whole scene feel even more bizarre to him. ‘Unusual. Truly unusual.’ After touring the city for some time, Enkrid eventually made his way toward a cluster of military tents. The Ragged Saint followed in silence, continuing his observations. Finally, he spoke up directly. “I care for the children orphaned by the wars. Would it be acceptable to set up a house of worship in the city for that purpose?” It might have been a heavy request to make. But for Enkrid—who had recently managed the resettlement of the fairy tribe—it was no trouble at all. “Go ahead,” Enkrid replied without a second thought. “It will require funding.” “Weren’t you intending to sell all those trinkets you’re wearing?” “How about you provide the gold?” “Sure, fine. You’re familiar with Kraiss, yes? Big eyes, gets irritable if you ask for currency. Go have a chat with him.” “What if I were the sort of man who traded children for a handful of coins?” “Then you wouldn’t be asking to build a monastery. You’d just auction them off to the highest bidder. Particularly with those fanatical cults trying to turn youngsters into icons and martyrs.” ‘What kind of person is this youth?’ The Ragged Saint blinked his clouded eyes. This one had a blunt way of speaking—and clearly knew how to think for himself. “Those monsters have caused a great deal of suffering.” “Then perhaps it’s time to take action against them.” “That is beyond my capabilities.” “Fine. Go build your monastery.” The dialogue went back and forth, but every word hit home. The Ragged Saint found the interaction strangely fulfilling. Within that clipped conversation, their true purposes had been laid bare. What was this sensation? The Ragged Saint had come to inspect the home Audin had chosen. He knew the boy he viewed as a son was destined to walk a difficult road. He also knew the boy would not be easily moved from his path. And he was aware that Audin carried deep internal scars. To claim he wasn’t proud of a son who had conquered those obstacles and stood tall would be a lie. Still, one question troubled him: Why hadn’t Audin come back to the temple? Why remain in this place? ‘Enkrid.’ This was the solution to the puzzle. He had heard many things during his visit. From Seiki, he heard of the man who had rescued her. From others, stories of a man who never wasted a single second of his life. From many more, tales of a knight who demanded the end of conflict and hunted down monsters. The Ragged Saint didn’t know where Enkrid had started—he only saw where he was now. And from what he could see, this man was pursuing a monumental goal. And yet… meeting him face-to-face was different. He was unlike any person the saint had ever encountered. ‘What makes him distinct?’ His logic. His determination. Even his stride. “What is it you truly desire?” All of his wonderings were condensed into that single query. Enkrid didn’t require a moment to reflect. “For now, I wish to wield my style as if it were moving water.” “What?” The Ragged Saint blinked, utterly lost. “I have built the foundation, and I finally have a signature move. But I want to push further. I can see the path ahead, but I have no natural genius—so I must climb one stair at a time. Right now, yes, I want to swing my blade like a flowing current. Hmm, saying it out loud provides clarity. After the Wave-Blocking Blade, there must be the Flowing Blade. Not like ‘Flowing Blade’ in the sense of a stagnant well, but a river that never ceases.” The Ragged Saint understood none of it. In his younger days, he had practiced some combat, but nothing approaching this level of complexity. It all soared right over his head. “Huh?” “That was helpful. Audin mentioned I shouldn’t treat you poorly—that you’d be a source of help if I was stuck. And he was correct.” Enkrid continued to talk as if he were drunk on a sudden realization. “Eh?” “I suppose there was a reason I ended up instructing Seiki after all.” “Ugh…” They had arrived at the barracks. Enkrid immediately began to practice his sword swings. At that point, there was no use trying to speak to him—he was entirely lost in his own headspace. The man known across the world as the Ragged Saint, draped in jewelry intended to be sold for the care of orphans, simply stood there and watched Enkrid work. A short while later, Audin walked up and asked, “Did you enjoy your walk?” The Ragged Saint took a breath, then countered, “What is the matter with that boy?” “Did something occur?” “He suddenly started rambling about some kind of river or stream and then just started hacking at the air with his sword.” “Oh, that’s just how he is.” “That’s normal?” “Yes. Quite normal.” As a man who moved through the world, influencing others and being influenced in turn, the Ragged Saint finally understood a small reality. Madman. He finally understood why the unit carried that title.