"Stop."
As they reached the front of the city walls, a guard blocked their way with the shaft of his spear.
Encrid instinctively surveyed the guard's position, stance, and the direction of his feet.
There were two blocking the path, and more standing behind.
The skills of the two in front were mediocre, not even worth discussing.
'They're at the level of recruits.'
In Encrid's group, 'Madmen Platoon', soldiers who had battlefield experience but no proper training were called recruits.
This was based on the standards of the Border Guard Reserve Unit.
Encrid's eyes met with those of the senior soldier standing behind the two.
He glared, as if to say, "Who do you think you're looking at?"
'Clumsy.'
If it came to a fight, these guys wouldn't even be able to block his sword draw.
There were over twenty guards stationed at the gate.
Aside from the soldiers inspecting wagons and carts on the other side, four of them had approached.
Two were blocking the way, another behind them seemed like the senior soldier, and the last one, standing at the very back, was a middle-aged man wearing neither a helmet nor armor, but a feathered hat worn at a slant.
He carried a thin, long sword at his waist, and his posture was the only one that stood out.
Could he be a threat?
While contemplating and assessing their skills, Rem spoke up.
"You're being too obvious."
It was a warning. No sooner had those words left his mouth than the man in the feathered hat spoke.
"Look at this guy, you checking me out?"
He spoke with his head tilted at an angle.
The man was sharp. His skills were probably just as keen.
Without hesitation, Encrid calmly nodded in acknowledgment.
"...And you admit it?"
The man muttered, then raised his voice.
"How many of them are there?"
He threw the question at one of his subordinates.
The soldier in front glanced over the group.
"Seven, and a beastwoman? What's with that thing's eyes? And hey, is that a panther?"
The guard scanned the group and remarked, bewildered by the motley crew.
Especially the panther—it was an animal, a beast. If it caused trouble, it would surely be a headache.
The guard subtly lowered the tip of his spear, keeping an eye on the panther.
Or maybe he was just scared?
Encrid remained silent.
Esther was indeed a panther, but at the Border Guard, no one had bothered to make a fuss about it.
Why? Because she was a wizard who accompanied him.
People knew that wizards were mysterious and unusual beings.
Some still thought of Esther as just a panther, but that was fine too.
In their eyes, Esther was simply a pet of Encrid's.
Nobody in the Border Guard dared question Encrid's role.
But this was the Capital.
Just getting in was the issue.
Should they turn back here?
His mission was to escort Krang to the Capital.
Entering was a separate matter, and it wasn't necessarily his responsibility to ensure they got in.
"It's fine."
As Encrid was pondering, Krang patted him on the shoulder.
"Overthinking gets you nowhere. That's something a wise man once told me, though I've forgotten it until now."
"Hm?"
Wondering what Krang meant by that in this situation, Encrid looked at him, noticing the glint in his eyes.
"You're going to become a Knight, aren't you?"
Faced with Krang's seriousness, Encrid nodded.
"Of course."
"Let me ask you again. Why do you stand by my side?"
Krang kept whispering. Meanwhile, the guard's tone was growing harsher as he kept watch in front of them.
"You can't bring a beast in here without a leash. More importantly, do any of you even have entry permits?"
"It's rare to see people coming here practically begging to cause trouble. Are you mercenaries?"
The man with the feathered hat chimed in as well.
Krang had to ask because he had spotted a flaw hidden in Encrid's words.
Saying he would protect something without knowing its value was just a hollow statement.
Now that his headache had cleared, it was clear. Encrid didn't move based on such reasons. Saying he would protect something without knowing its value was a calculated response.
What was the reasoning behind that calculation?
Krang was curious.
From Krang's perspective, Encrid was a straightforward man who marched ahead without hesitation.
Such a person wouldn't normally calculate and make excuses about value. The fact that he did meant something was bothering him. That was Krang's conclusion.
"Why did you make that excuse?"
Encrid was genuinely impressed.
This guy was sharp enough to rival Krais when it came to catching on to things.
To call it an excuse—Krang had seen right through him.
Encrid was part of the Border Guard, and he never forgot that. If Encrid had been a fool who didn't consider the consequences of his actions, he wouldn't have survived this long.
He was aware of his position and knew the impact of his actions.
What if Count Molsen decided to cause a scene over this?
"That bothers you, doesn't it?"
That was the remark that came back during his discussion with Big Eyes. The guy had a knack for being annoyingly insightful.
"Make excuses. Keep insisting on them."
It was good advice. And this was the excuse he'd come up with.
Was Krang's value really that high?
High enough that assassins would be sent after him?
Encrid didn't know. And since he didn't know, he'd decided to protect Krang.
Since he didn't know anything, he just dealt with things as they came—that was all. His stance was simple: "I don't know."
But Krang had seen through all of this and asked,
"Can you drop the excuses and just tell me?"
That was the real meaning hidden in the question.
"You."
As Encrid spoke, he thought.
If a Knight is someone who protects, then a King is someone who governs.
Encrid didn't have some burning loyalty to protect Naurillia.
He wasn't someone bound to this land, he was just born here.
But that didn't mean he didn't love anything about this country.
Encrid cared for the small town where he was born.
He couldn't turn his back on the people who had raised him when he would have otherwise starved to death without parents.
"It'd be nice if war would just go away."
Said the fruit vendor who had cut out a rotten part of an apple and split it in half to eat.
"It'd be great if people could just live quietly, paying attention to what matters."
Said the old waitress who roasted potatoes in the fireplace.
"That damned war, young folks might enjoy it, but not me. Pah."
The old woman who had once sold her body to survive lamented her life.
"If there hadn't been a war, I would have quietly gotten married, had children, and lived making stew."
She said. The stew she made warmed his belly like nothing else ever had.
"You're a genius."
Said a mercenary who had once told an orphan to survive, calling him a genius.
The mercenary who had lost his leg was full of bravado, but he cared about children. He would starve himself to feed a hungry orphan, even though he needed food himself.
Encrid's childhood had been filled with hardship and struggle, but he didn't entirely hate it.
He didn't truly hate it at all.
They were all people living within this country.
He didn't know about royalty, nobility, or politics.
But
"I just think I'd do well."
Wouldn't things change if Krang became King?
It was a gut feeling, a prediction. Encrid wasn't a prophet who could see the future, so it could very well be called a gamble.
"Choose me, Encrid. Become a Knight and stand by my side."
Krang spoke. His words seemed to carry his will, as if his resolve had formed into an invisible pressure that weighed on Encrid.
The words were meant solely for Encrid, but he didn't nod in response. Krang was quicker.
"I don't need an answer."
Krang spoke and lifted his head.
He felt calm in the face of the assassin's threat.
At the end of that calm came a realization.
'If your sword is at your waist, then mine is in my mouth.'
It was in his mind, and it flowed in his blood.
It was now time to wield that sword.
"Matthew."
Krang called the name of his guard, and the guard stepped forward.
The guard glared.
"And who are you?"
Matthew, following Krang's orders, opened his mouth to speak.
"In the name of the only, supreme, and wise Queen of this land, I declare that the sole rightful heir to the Royal Family has arrived."
The language was formal and difficult. The guard blinked. The senior officer behind him, however, was quicker to understand.
"What did you just say?"
He spoke while pulling back the subordinate who seemed on the verge of using force.
"Exactly what I said."
Matthew's voice was loud enough for everyone to hear.
The commotion at the gate was noticeable, but his words clearly reached the ears of those nearby.
"What did that man just say?"
"The rightful heir to the Royal Family?"
"Is he claiming to be some secret child the Queen hid away?"
Anyone with any sense knew that Naurillia was going through a complicated time internally.
The issue of succession was always a sensitive matter.
The Queen wasn't old, but she had no children.
While she had a husband, it was known to those in the know that she couldn't bear children.
"How dare you!"
Matthew's voice rang out for all to hear, though it was directed at the senior guard blocking their way.
"My master is a descendant of the Naurillia Royal Family, by the name of Kdianath Rangdias Naurill."
The names of royalty are traditionally long.
This is because royal names often incorporate letters from the names of ancestors.
In comparison, Krang's name was short.
This was because he had lived in hiding as a bastard child.
He had only learned his full name when he grew older.
And so—
"Call me Krang."
Krang spoke, using a skill that was almost like ventriloquism, though no one knew where he had learned it.
As Encrid glanced over at him, Krang continued.
"That's my real name, after all."
He had been called that since childhood, so it was his name, indeed.
Krang's words didn't sound like a lie.
'I was wrong.'
Encrid had always thought 'Krang' was just an alias.
Looking at it now, it seemed like the name had been created from the first letters of 'Kdianath Rangdias', but when Krang said it was his real name, it likely meant he had been using 'Krang' long before.
"Lower your head in the presence of royal blood!"
Matthew shouted.
"...This is the first I've heard of a prince. You'll need to prove it first, don't you think?"
The senior soldier said, as even the man with the feathered hat, the guard captain, stepped forward.
He was the Commander of the southern gate.
In response to the Commander's words, Krang took a step forward.
"What do you need for me to prove myself?"
"Pretending to be royalty is a grave crime."
"Then take me in and drag me away."
As Krang spoke, he pulled a pendant from inside his chest. It wasn't a complete piece—it was just half.
It was the pendant Krang always wore around his neck.
Even though it was incomplete, the Royal Family's crest was clearly visible on it. It was far too ornate to be an imitation crafted by unskilled hands.
The pendant was smaller than a palm, yet even as half a piece, the royal crest was unmistakable.
Three swords, a round-headed figure, and the sun tree with flaming mane.
It was the symbol of the Royal Family.
The half-pendant Krang carried bore the head of the sun tree.
"My sister has the other half."
Only the Queen could confirm Krang's identity with this.
But should they let him in just based on that?
The guard captain was in a difficult position. Just then—
"I will vouch for him."
The voice came from behind the captain. When had he arrived?
"I, Marcus Visar, vouch in my name that this man is indeed the rightful heir and a descendant of the Royal Family."
The guard captain knew the matter was now out of his hands.
"Let him in."
There was no other choice. Overriding the backing of a name like that of the Visar family was not an option.
From here on out, the issue would be handled within the Royal Court, by those who dealt with politics and death alike.
The guard captain's job was handling steel, not words.
But he couldn't just let them all through without caution.
'I'll hold the rest of them.'
Of course, the guard captain wouldn't get his way.
"They're all my people. Are you going to hold them?"
The blonde man, who had just revealed himself to be of royal blood, approached with a sly smile.
'What a mess I've gotten into.'
If he let them go, the nobles would surely roast him later.
If luck was against him, he could even be accused of letting rebels in and lose his head.
But if he gritted his teeth and stopped them?
Well, if this man really was royalty, he'd lose his head all the same.
Even an average fool wouldn't impersonate royalty in the Capital, and especially not in front of the guard captain, so the chances of this man telling the truth were high.
Thus, he was stuck with no choice at all.
Krang, still smiling, spoke again, each word piercing the captain's heart.
What noble, what Commander would ever say such things?
The guard captain had never heard anything like it in his life, and it sounded like a command.
"Say I insisted. Say I forced my way through. Say it was all because of me."
Marcus nodded in agreement, adding to the captain's unease.
A tingle ran down his spine.
The guard captain was forty years old this year.
At his age, he found his chest stirred, emotions about to well up.
'Who is this man?'
Before he could say anything more, Marcus Visar approached and gently reassured him.
"I'll make sure you aren't harmed by this."
The guard captain nodded. His eyes remained fixed on Krang.
He saw him as an incredibly unique and peculiar person.
Encrid and the others were just watching the whole thing unfold.
"Wow, having royalty on your side really is something,"
One of them said.
Only Rem expressed admiration.
As he said, no one stopped their group.
Even though they were accompanied by a wild horse with mismatched eye colors, and a panther was walking boldly into the Capital, no one intervened.
The group had no time to take in the sights of the Capital.
Upon being informed by the city guards, the palace sent its escort.
These were the Royal Guard. They were all clad in full plate armor, each carrying a long spear and a short sword at their left or right hip, with a kite shield slung diagonally across their backs.
They wore helmets painted in gold, their visors lowered so only their eyes and mouths were visible, radiating an intimidating presence.
Their unified appearance and stern gazes were a testament to their authority.
The Royal Guard approached and encircled the group.
"We will escort you to the palace."
The man at the front, whose helmet was a dull, dark gray rather than gold, spoke.
It was a plain, undecorated helmet.
Just looking at them could be enough to make most people shrink back, but there wasn't a single ordinary person here.
"See those guys sweating? It's hot, and they're really suffering."
Rem remarked.
Jaxon, as usual, remained silent, though inwardly he thought it was going well. He had been looking for an excuse to get inside the palace anyway.
Dunbachel, meanwhile, nervously glanced around and whispered.
"Are we really going to follow them?"
She was questioning whether it was necessary to go all the way to the palace, sensing the danger.
"Want to turn back? Go ahead if you want."
Encrid's tone suggested he didn't care either way. Dunbachel quickly shook her head.
"If the Commander stays, I stay too."
"Suit yourself."
Encrid felt a surge of curiosity.
It wasn't the battlefield where words were replaced with steel, but watching Krang walk ahead made him seem like a general ready to face a hundred or even a thousand enemies on his own.
Watching him stirred something within Encrid's chest. It awakened a desire inside him.
"Do you want to improve your skills?"
He suddenly recalled something Rem had said.
What had Rem told him when he had nodded to that obvious question?
Reflecting on that memory, Encrid fixed his gaze on Krang's back.