"Don't stop the real battle."
Rem judged that Encrid grew stronger through real combat.
Anyone could see that Encrid's talent had clear limits. This was no different in Rem's eyes.
It seemed inevitable that he would stop growing at some point.
How many times had they seen someone rise in rank, only to stop midway, whether they were Knights or something else?
The limits of talent come quietly, gnawing away at a person.
Is there no way to break through those limits?
There is.
In Rem's view, the best way was to put one's life on the line.
Limits are a form of complacency.
One of the best ways to avoid complacency is to stake everything, to do everything as if your life depends on it.
It didn't necessarily mean just wielding a sword.
Even writing poetry or singing could lead to growth if done with such intensity. This was Rem's philosophy.
"Risk your life and grind it out on the battlefield."
This was the best advice Rem could give to a man who was determined to keep moving forward.
Encrid recalled his conversation with Rem and mulled it over.
This wasn't a battlefield.
Yet Encrid saw someone fighting as if their life was on the line.
It seemed like Krang was doing that.
It looked as though he was rolling through life, risking everything.
This gave Encrid a sort of realization.
More than anything, it made him want to keep watching.
"Just enjoy the sights of the Royal Palace."
Marcus said.
"If I put a request here, I'd probably seem like too much of a thug, right?"
He added, but Encrid cleanly ignored him.
He was too busy watching Krang at the moment.
Esther squinted as she surveyed the inside of the palace.
Her intuition as a wizard sensed the abundance of magical tools and enchanted objects throughout the Royal Palace.
Esther had a strange feeling.
Being the Royal Palace of a nation, of course, there would be plenty of spell objects and relics. That was to be expected.
So, it wasn't because of the relics.
A wizard doesn't get surprised by things that fall within their expectations.
'Then what?'
There was something sinister. Something on the opposite side of order.
Magic doesn't inherently follow order, but there was a sense of malice.
"Grrr."
Esther muttered a growl, as if whispering.
Its peculiar form piqued her interest, if only a little.
On the surface, the Royal Palace appeared to be full of danger, but from the perspective of a wizard of a certain caliber, it was surprisingly vulnerable.
It was hard to say how it came to be this way, but it looked as if someone had deliberately left gaps in the defenses.
"Are you here looking for a place to die?"
The voice came from a lone guard, wearing a dark gray helmet. He spoke as they headed toward the Royal Palace.
They didn't pass through the center of the Capital. They were heading toward a secluded corner.
With the direction they were going, the words sounded like a threat.
The number of people around them was steadily decreasing.
Matthew reacted to the comment.
"Do you know who stands before you as you speak?"
"If he's a fool who believes in his bloodline and runs wild, he'll get angry. If he's not, he'll hold his temper well."
Clear enough. Encrid thought inwardly, realizing that this guy wasn't someone to take lightly.
Instead of openly sizing them up as before, he was now subtly observing the so-called Royal Guard.
There were twenty soldiers serving as the escort.
Among them, some gave off the impression of being well-trained elites.
They were at the level where they knew how to thrust a spear, even if something shocking happened.
However, others were terrible. They didn't even know how to march in step.
Marching formation is the basics of military drill.
Anyone who can't even manage that can't be called elite.
Is this the level of the Royal Guard, who are supposed to protect the Royal Family?
Yet, the man in the dark gray helmet walked ahead of them all, maintaining a proper balance.
Encrid gave credit to that posture.
Regardless of individual skill, he carried the responsibility for everyone.
'I wish they'd attack.'
Looking at his stance now, it was clear this man would never do such a thing.
There are people you can get a sense of just by watching them walk.
This guy was the type who insisted on a head-on confrontation.
Instead of speaking in circles, he spoke directly, and even if he had a chance to stab someone in the back, he would wait for them to turn around first.
His walk, posture, speech, and attitude all showed signs of this.
He was someone who wouldn't fight without just cause.
'The exact opposite of Jaxon.'
Encrid thought, glancing at Jaxon, who caught his eye.
"You seem to be thinking something unpleasant."
Jaxon said.
"No, not at all."
Encrid quickly denied it. It was his specialty.
This wasn't even a lie. It didn't go against his beliefs.
It was simply a consideration to keep his thoughts to himself for the sake of the other person.
"That's not true."
"I agree."
Rem added.
"My eyes just got lost."
Encrid said, and Jaxon, tilting his head slightly, rejected the comment. Rem and Ragna chimed in next.
"But do you think they'll give us a meal?"
Dunbachel added another comment on top, and Encrid quickly responded to that.
"They probably will."
"Instead of just ambushing us?"
"I don't think so."
Would the surrounding guards not hear this conversation? Of course, they heard it. Loud and clear.
"Arrogant."
One of the weaker Royal Guard members spoke. The one who couldn't even march properly. He seemed to be pretending not to care, but even that only proved how weak his resolve was.
When facing strangers, especially newcomers, he should have walked properly for the dignity of his group.
But he didn't. So, he was an idiot.
An idiot who spoke as if picking a fight. Encrid worried about his companions' reactions.
What if they all blew up? But before anyone could react, someone stepped forward.
"With that one word, are you trying to make me look like an idiot?"
From the front, Krang raised his voice.
"That wasn't my intention."
The man in the dark gray helmet replied.
"Then shut up."
Krang shot back before the man could even finish speaking.
He was fiery.
"And the guy muttering about arrogance in the back—he better keep his mouth shut before I cut off his tongue."
A Royal Guard soldier flinched. Out of fear? No. He was angry. And he showed it. This guy was really someone whose limits were easy to see.
Besides, despite Krang introducing himself as royalty, it seemed no one treated him accordingly.
"It's disgraceful that the ones tasked with guarding the Royal Palace are so loose with their words and hands."
Krang rebuked them further.
"You don't yet have the right to discuss our stance."
Their captain said.
Krang scoffed.
"I'm speaking as a mere Royal, not as a King."
"Then you should prove that you are indeed royalty, shouldn't you?"
"That's not something a mere swordsman should worry about! If you've been given orders, just carry them out!"
Krang suddenly shouted. Once again, he was rebuking them. The captain couldn't respond because Krang's words were right.
He mulled over the statement a few times and then shut his mouth.
Encrid had to turn around.
"Bleh."
Rem was sticking his tongue out, mocking the Royal Guard from earlier.
Ah, this brazen, crazy bastard.
What could be said? This was something he hadn't expected. And it wasn't just Rem.
Jaxon clicked his tongue and shook his head.
As for Ragna—
"You need to know how to read the constellations to know where you're going. You need to lie down where you see fit."
He offered advice to the Royal Guard.
Encrid was so dumbfounded he could hardly speak.
Where did the guy who used to mutter nonsense about looking south while facing north go?
Of course, what he said wasn't wrong.
It meant you should stretch your legs only where you've prepared to rest.
It was a proverb, after all.
However, since it came from Ragna, it lacked a bit of weight.
Grrrrind.
One of the Royal Guards ground his teeth. His face turned bright red, like he might transform into a ripe tomato if left alone.
'If someone transforms into a fruit or vegetable, they wouldn't be a beastman, so what should I call them? A vegeman?'
Encrid muttered to himself, lost in a random thought.
Tomato-man, he thought.
Naturally, he adjusted his voice just enough so only the Royal Guard could hear him.
"Oops, that was a mistake."
He followed up by pretending his muttering had been an accident.
As expected, the Royal Guard's teeth grinding doubled in intensity, and his face turned even redder.
Meanwhile, Matthew was walking as if he were balancing on a rope at the edge of a cliff, barely hiding his disbelief at the commotion behind him.
These insane guys, what the hell are they doing?
Krang tried to suppress a laugh, and Marcus was in a similar state to Matthew.
They never expected to be acting like this while surrounded by the Royal Guard in the Capital city.
The saying goes, 'A leaky bottle inside will leak outside.'
It turned out that the madmen weren't normal even outside the Border Guard.
"You—"
The captain looked back for a moment, as if he was about to say something, but he shut his mouth again.
The group reached the outskirts of the city and climbed into a carriage.
Specifically, Krang, Matthew, and Marcus got into the carriage.
Marcus's guards tried to follow, but he sent them back.
"I'm with the heroes who made waves among both the Royal Guard and the Border Guard. What danger could there be, especially in the middle of the Royal Palace?"
There seemed to be a hidden message in his words, but Encrid didn't care much.
The rest of the group mounted the horses they had been riding earlier.
If they simply walked, they would reach their destination by sunset.
For that reason, the carriage and riders moved at a steady pace toward the palace.
The path to the palace ran along the outskirts of the city.
There were outposts scattered along the way, each manned by a few soldiers. If necessary, there were gates and obstacles designed to block the road leading to the palace.
Of course, they were all wide open now.
From atop his horse, Encrid could see that on the left side was a wall that seemed to absorb light, while on the right was part of the city's view.
It wasn't a marketplace but rather a district full of mansions.
"The Capital is really big, isn't it? Have you been here before?"
Rem asked, and Encrid nodded.
The last time he visited the Capital, Encrid had been in a state close to that of a beggar.
A lot had happened back then.
There were people who ignored him.
There were also people who tried to kill him.
If he were to talk about it, it would take half a day of storytelling, and if it were written in a book, it would take at least half a volume.
So, he gave a brief summary.
"Last time I came, I was too busy getting beaten up to enjoy the sights."
"That's fitting for our Captain."
Rem chuckled and nodded in agreement. Ragna quietly looked around.
This was his first time in the Capital.
In a big city, it was easy to get lost if you weren't careful.
The alleyways twisted like a maze.
'Even getting from the palace to the main gate would be a tough task.'
In reality, all he had to do was follow the main road, but Ragna was already absorbed in the labyrinth-like alleyways.
He thought about how one might navigate through them.
Jaxon quietly followed. He had been to the Capital before and had even visited the palace.
'Avnair.'
It was the name of Aspen's strategist. Jaxon remembered him. There were no lies in what that man had said.
If so, the task he needed to accomplish was somewhere inside that palace.
Jaxon's eyes caught sight of tall spires at the end of the road.
The three high spires symbolized the three swords of the palace.
They represented the three Knights who had written the founding myth of the nation, protecting the previous King.
Later, when the country faced a crisis during the reign of the next King, a Divine Beast known as the Sun God came to protect the Kingdom.
It was not just a founding myth but also a legend and a piece of real history.
Dunbachel, meanwhile, was starting to feel hungry.
Encrid quietly wondered if he would get the chance to meet a Knight inside the palace.
If he did, he pondered what questions he might ask.
"We've arrived."
The Royal Guard's Commander announced.
And indeed, they had.
This was the entrance to the palace. The soldiers guarding the inner gate were in sight.
They were dressed in the same uniforms.
The soldiers guarding the inner palace were all referred to collectively as the Royal Guard.
There were four soldiers at the gate, and they all saluted the Commander.
Then they glanced over the group, exchanging looks with the Royal Guard who had escorted them here. It was then that Encrid sensed something strange.
'There's a split here.'
It was clear from their greetings that some of them were close, while there was a noticeable distance with others.
There had been talk of factionalism within, and it seemed the Royal Guard wasn't immune to that either.
"Just wait and see."
The soldier who had been mocked gritted his teeth and said as they were about to part ways.
"This guy's the one who made fun of you."
Encrid pointed to Rem.
"Wow, how unfair. You tell him. Was it just me?"
Rem turned the tables, questioning the Royal Guard and pressing on the last thread of his composure.
Yet, whether it was his strong suit or just good recruitment, the Royal Guard soldier, known for his patience, managed to hold himself back.
"That's enough."
The Commander pulled his subordinate by the shoulder.
"Let it go."
He warned.
Encrid continued to point at Rem, as if to say he was the only one at fault.
"I'm telling you, this isn't fair."
Rem insisted.
The Commander, without listening to any further explanations, turned away, and they were greeted by another new figure.
"The Queen has summoned you to the audience chamber."
It was an unfamiliar face.
He glanced over Krang and the group before introducing himself.
"I am Viscount Bentra."
Ah.
Encrid recognized that name.
He was a noble under Count Molsen.
The one who had sent soldiers to the Border Guard, marked by their crests.
He had a clean, blonde face and broad shoulders.
It was the body of someone who had trained.
"Marcus Visar."
"It's been a while."
Marcus, too, officially held the title of baron.
It was a title granted by the Marquisate of Visar, with the Royal Family's approval.
It wasn't given out to just anyone.
Marcus was someone who had proven his worth.
Viscount Bentra and Marcus were familiar with each other.
More precisely, they had been rivals, fighting each other on the political stage of the Royal Palace.
Viscount Bentra ignored Encrid's group entirely, simply guiding them down the path.
Aside from Marcus and Encrid, he didn't even glance at the others.
As they walked, Krang, once again using ventriloquism, whispered.
"Don't tease the Queen."
This guy—no, this royal bastard—what does he think of himself?
Teasing the Queen would be considered high treason.
Why would anyone not understand that?
In any case, they had intended to wait outside the audience chamber.
"You may enter. The rest will wait outside."
Though that was the plan, Viscount Bentra stopped Encrid.
"Her Majesty wishes to see the face of the hero who saved the Border Guard."
Encrid had expected to hear about court etiquette or to change into more formal attire before going, but the situation didn't allow for that.
After all, the Royal Family's illegitimate son had suddenly appeared.
Surely the major nobles already knew the story, but they had to pretend otherwise, didn't they?
No one would openly admit to being the one who sent assassins, after all.
So, they were pretending this was an urgent meeting out of surprise.
And, at the same time, they were taking the opportunity to see Encrid, the hero of the Border Guard.
"I'm afraid I may act against court etiquette."
"Do not worry, I shall personally guide you by my side."
The Viscount said, and somehow, those words made Encrid even more uneasy.
There was no emotion in his voice. There was no malice either, but it still felt uncomfortable.
Yet, there was no reason to refuse.
However, did Viscount Bentra not bathe often, or did he have a taste for raw meat?
A faint rancid odor stung Encrid's nose.
Seeing Dunbachel pinch her nose behind him, it seemed she noticed it too.
To the average person, it might just be an unpleasant smell, but for someone with a trained sense of smell, or for beastmen, it was more than unpleasant—it was sharp, almost nerve-wracking.
Encrid briefly wrinkled his nose before replying.
"Thank you for your consideration."
Soon, they arrived at the entrance to the audience chamber, and Rem gave a signal from behind, as if to say, "Good luck suffering through it."
In southern dialect, it would translate to something like, "Go bust your back doing it."
The rest of the group came to a halt.
Encrid stepped into the audience chamber.
The intricately decorated doors swung open to either side. The guards at the entrance scanned him from head to toe.
He had already been disarmed.
As he stepped inside, the doors groaned, scraping the floor as they closed.
The Queen had not yet arrived, and inside the audience chamber were only six nobles.
It seemed this meeting had been arranged in haste, so only those who could make it in time were present.