"Do you think they'll resort to poison or some other trick?"
Encrid asked as soon as dawn broke the next morning.
Jaxon heard the question and shook his head.
Now, he was back to his usual self.
Indifferent, bored, with a calm expression and demeanor.
Only his tone revealed a faint hint of malice.
"They won't do the same thing again."
Jaxon's voice, as he uttered those words, was like an ice shard pulled from a glacier. Cold. Laced with sarcasm toward those who had dared to meddle while he was away.
Of course, the cold and murderous smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
He returned to his usual aloof and proud expression, one that wouldn't flinch even if pricked by a needle.
"You mean to make sure they won't?"
Encrid asked, and Jaxon gave a nonchalant nod.
That was enough.
As he said, nothing significant happened throughout the day. The ones who had come forward as a warning didn't reappear.
They wouldn't come back in a single day, would they?
No, even if two or three days passed, they probably wouldn't return.
If they had come when he was alone, they certainly wouldn't come when they were all together.
Encrid spent another day.
He trained mindlessly, focusing on his practice, and put Andrew and the five trainees through the wringer.
"Spare me."
One of the trainees muttered under his breath without realizing it.
"Yes, today's single sword strike will save you tomorrow."
Encrid responded earnestly to the trainee's lament, earning applause from Dunbachel.
"A wise saying."
"It's not wisdom, it's a declaration that I won't listen to that nonsense, you idiot beast."
Rem mocked from the side.
Their conversation was only faintly audible to Encrid.
The trainees couldn't hear it. Rem likely lowered his voice deliberately, knowing why Encrid gave such a reply.
To be begging for mercy at this level?
'I can push them even harder.'
Encrid wanted the trainees to pour all their energy into their sword practice, sparing none for words. Beyond simply fulfilling their desires and ambitions, he intended to ensure they wouldn't die, if possible.
In Encrid's eyes, the Gardner family's forces amounted to no more than seven.
Andrew, Mac, and the five trainees.
Of them, Andrew was the only one somewhat useful.
'Useful only in a situation like this, though.'
If things went wrong, they'd all just die. He knew them, so he had no desire to stand by and watch Andrew die.
That said, he couldn't follow them around, protecting them constantly.
The best solution was for them to learn how to protect themselves.
That was the purpose of this training, so pushing them harder was the right approach.
At times like this, it was better to act like a wall that couldn't understand, rather than listen and scold.
When people think they can communicate, they attempt conversation.
But with someone they can't communicate with, they don't even try.
They just focus on doing what needs to be done.
That's what Encrid wanted.
He wanted them to become so absorbed in their task that they struggled as if their lives depended on it.
Having risen from the bottom, he knew what kind of mindset they needed right now.
"Ugh."
The trainee groaned in despair, and Encrid was pleased.
Ragna nodded as he watched. He gave his all in everything.
Just like the Commander he knew.
It was satisfying.
Seeing that, his own motivation surged again.
'The sword.'
Ragna quickly drifted into his own world.
Jaxon remained silent as he observed the same scene. Over the past two days, the only words he had spoken were to say that the enemy wouldn't resort to the same tricks again.
No one approached him for conversation either. Even Andrew found Jaxon intimidating.
Mac, of course, wasn't someone who would speak to him.
The five trainees were too busy trying to survive on their own.
Rem and Ragna also had no reason to provoke him. Everyone had their tasks at hand. Sometimes, when Encrid stepped away, Rem would fill in for him.
"If you hit me even once, you get a break."
He was showing the five trainees a new kind of hell, and Rem thoroughly enjoyed it.
Meanwhile, Ragna was off to the side, swinging his sword and lost in thought.
Occasionally, he would mutter to himself, "Light, fast, and heavy", revealing that he was deeply pondering his swordsmanship.
Amid all this, Jaxon remained silent, lost in his own thoughts.
At first, he focused on his own situation.
'Is this a game of cat and mouse?'
With the evidence he had so far, he had identified his target for revenge.
But identifying a target doesn't mean it can be easily found.
It was difficult. He needed to gather more information, dig deeper.
After those practical considerations, a more fundamental question arose.
'Is this the right path?'
The path he had chosen wasn't one that would lead to 'help'.
What is the right path? What is the answer? Why had he spent his entire life consumed by vengeance?
If revenge is his goal, is this really the way to go about it?
"Strike."
Encrid's words echoed in his mind.
Jaxon looked over and saw Encrid with his arm wrapped in bandages.
The days were growing warmer, so sleeves were getting shorter. The wound hadn't been treated properly, more like neglected, but it hadn't become infected and was healing well.
It was a mark made by Jaxon's own stiletto.
"Why are you worrying? Start by figuring out why. Think about the 'why'."
His master had said that to him.
Jaxon had followed that advice.
The reason for worry lies in the heart. It happens because the heart can't find its direction.
If you don't understand, you're dragged along. But if you do, you're not.
Finding the 'why' doesn't mean you need to find an answer.
There are many paths.
Jaxon had chosen one of them.
Instead of trying to control his emotions, he let them run wild.
Instead of worrying, 'Is this the right thing to do?' he simply acted. He just did it. He moved. He acted. He took steps toward the result.
It was Encrid's mindset. Jaxon had learned from watching him.
Suddenly, he glimpsed the greatness of the man before him.
'He doesn't give up just because he lacks talent.'
Instead of worrying, he strategizes.
When his mind can't solve a problem, he uses his body.
And while using his body, he still thinks. He does whatever it takes. It's a struggle.
"You can't do it. Not with skills like that."
He wasn't shaken by the criticism and ridicule exchanged around him. He moved forward, undeterred.
The complexity in Jaxon's heart was soon replaced by simplicity.
The tangled threads unraveled and straightened out.
In other words, he decided to act according to his heart for now.
Afterward, Rem, bored, continued to torment the five trainees.
Dunbachel took two curved swords from Encrid and practiced swinging them, determined to get used to them.
Later, she even transformed into her beast form and requested a sparring match with Ragna, only to get beaten.
Ragna spent his time swinging his sword or lying on the grass beside the training yard. He seemed idle unless someone challenged him to a duel.
Jaxon occasionally left the estate with Encrid, but often ventured out alone.
When the two went out together, it was usually to attend a party.
Encrid often took Andrew along as his escort.
On rare occasions, they encountered people they knew. The Capital was teeming with people, all vying for a position, so such meetings were bound to happen.
"You."
"It's been a while."
The other person responded, and Encrid spoke next.
It was an old instructor who had taught swordsmanship when Encrid was previously in the Capital.
Not the most honorable person.
"So, you're really that Encrid?"
The former instructor, who was known for talking nonsense, said.
Back then, he had judged Encrid's skills as impressive. But how would he measure up now?
Encrid nodded, considering the thought.
"Ridiculous."
The man muttered and whispered to his companions.
From the bits Encrid overheard, it seemed like they were calling him a fraud.
He ignored them.
Andrew's brow furrowed.
"Shall we let this go?"
Andrew was ready to step in at any moment.
"Let it be."
Encrid glanced at them, deciding there was no need to provoke a confrontation.
The nonsense-talking instructor smirked at Encrid, his smile reminiscent of a fishy odor—cunning and insincere.
"Yeah, sure, see you around."
The former instructor, laughing with his companions, left. He wasn't even their leader.
Was there anyone noteworthy among them? It didn't seem so.
Encrid ignored it. It was just a passing event.
It was only after attending a few parties that Encrid finally met Krang.
Krang mentioned that it had been difficult to leave the palace.
"Everyone's on the verge of drawing their swords at any moment."
"Count Molsen?"
"I don't know much about the inner workings of the palace. I just mentioned the most influential person I could think of."
It was a wrong guess.
Krang smiled at this and responded.
"In reality, the person currently holding the blade to the King's throat isn't a noble from the frontier, but someone within the palace."
Without even asking who, Krang continued speaking.
"It's a man named Viscount Mernes."
From what he explained, Mernes had formed a faction within the palace, gathering power into one force.
It seemed he was in competition with Viscount Vancento, and was cultivating ambitions separate from Count Molsen.
"He's a troublesome fellow. One of the 'Five Fingers'."
As Krang spoke, he pressed his palm against the bench, stretched his back, and looked up at the sky. Despite the serious topic, he looked oddly at ease.
The five fingers that upheld the palace referred to the five great families.
There was the Marquis Visar from the Thumb Family.
The Lockhorn Family, represented by the forefinger, had served in the military for generations.
The middle finger referred to the ruler of the frontier, Count Molsen.
The ring finger was responsible for the Kingdom's finances, currently managed by the person known as the Marquis of Octo.
The last family, known as the pinky, was in charge of guarding the palace, though their name remained unknown.
And currently, none of the five families supported the Queen.
They were all too busy looking after their own interests.
Krang didn't explain all of this in detail. There was no need to.
He glanced at Encrid, who didn't seem particularly interested in such matters.
So what was Encrid curious about that led him to seek out Krang?
At first, the attention had been on Andrew, who had accompanied him to the party as an uninvited guest.
But soon, the gossip shifted to focus on his guard.
The hero born from the Border Guard.
A man whose reputation had been inflated by tales of grandeur.
It was said that someone who knew Encrid's past had been spreading stories nonstop.
The rumors were that, in reality, he had poor skills and was someone who lived off the glory earned by his subordinates, reveling in an undeserved reputation.
'Is it a case of not believing unless they see it for themselves?'
Is that arrogance? Or perhaps conceit?
Or are they simply trying to protect their own long-standing reputations?
'It's probably all of those things.'
Krang regarded them all as fools.
If they didn't trust his reputation, they could pretend to be friendly and test him.
And if that didn't suit them, it would be better to just observe him for a while.
Yet a few foolish and ignorant nobles were busy belittling and criticizing Encrid.
'Are they simply lacking intelligence?'
How could someone with such a small mind become a Palace Official?
One of the people most eager to tear down Encrid was the palace's security chief.
He was the superior of all the heads of the guard and oversaw the entire palace security force.
'Should I be happy about this?'
Should he feel glad that a potential enemy was a fool, or should he lament that the palace he served was filled with incompetents?
Or should he blame the Queen for leading such a nation?
Or perhaps he should feel sympathy for the Queen?
After all, this mess wasn't entirely her doing.
Of course, Encrid's sudden rise in attention wasn't solely due to his skills.
"I'd love to see that face for myself."
"Is he really that handsome?"
"They say it's a feast for the eyes."
It was the curiosity of the noblewomen.
Apparently, the two men accompanying Andrew as his guards had captivated the entire party.
Naturally, those two were Encrid and Jaxon.
This likely fueled the gossip and borderline slander directed at Encrid by the envious noblemen.
After all, throughout history, jealousy has always been one of the strongest motivators.
In fact, some of the nobles were practically dying to kill Encrid.
That included the security chief.
If Encrid were to draw his sword in the city, wouldn't the guards be dispatched immediately?
As Krang pondered this, he spoke.
"Viscount Mernes is the son-in-law of Marquis of Visar and comes from the Lockhorn Family."
"He's someone who has the most powerful backer in the current palace, and he's even brought in private soldiers to the Capital.
Some of the Royal Guard are under his command too.
Since entering the Capital, he's rapidly expanded his influence, gathering surrounding factions into one force.
In terms of danger, he's at least twice as dangerous as Count Molsen in the current situation.
"There are even rumors that he's gathered a battalion of private soldiers outside the Capital. So, what are you curious about?"
Krang paused mid-sentence to ask. He assumed there had to be a purpose for Encrid's visit.
Encrid had many questions, but they all boiled down to one key point. One question that would clear up much of his uncertainty.
So, Encrid asked about those he had expected and assumed should be present.
"Where are all the Knights?"
If there was even a single Knight in the palace...
If they were by the Queen's side, would someone like this Mernes or Mernos character be able to act so brazenly?
Assassins had thrown out warnings in broad daylight.
At night, the howls of beasts echoed, and every day new rumors and horror stories spread in the Capital.
If there were Knights, if the Knight orders were active, such things couldn't and shouldn't be happening.
That was the fundamental question that connected all these strange occurrences.