'For what?'
Andrew stepped forward to the gates of the fortress with five trainees.
Ahead of him, there was one guy holding a black sword, followed by a tall man dragging a mace.
'For the Kingdom?'
He wondered if it was something new. Andrew couldn't quite understand why he was here or why he was risking his life.
It wasn't like he set out on this path just because he wanted to fight.
'Why?'
Was it for the Kingdom? No. He could say that outwardly, but deep down, it wasn't out of sheer loyalty.
More than anything, there was something he felt while observing the Kingdom of Naurillia all this time.
'Is this Kingdom worth giving my life for?'
Maybe later, but not yet. He sided with Krang because there was no other choice.
Yet, here Andrew was.
"Hold the line! Do not retreat!"
Squire Lawford's shout rang out. At some point, he had taken command at the gates.
Some so-called Captain of the guard was hiding off to the side, busy shooting arrows.
From what Andrew had heard, this man hadn't risen through the ranks due to skill but rather due to being sly.
At least the guards had some fighters among them, but even they couldn't manage to retreat from the walls.
In short, there was no one else to stop the enemy from approaching the gates.
Andrew glanced ahead and behind before moving forward. His earlier thoughts continued to swirl in his mind.
There are things you can't do unless you come to a conclusion.
There was one clear reason why he was here.
'The family.'
Was it just about seeking nobility's status?
Was it enough to simply belong to a family?
Did he only need the name 'Gardner'?
The name wasn't important. None of that mattered at all.
Andrew adjusted his grip on his sword and took his stance. The sword he held upright was a symbol of his resolve, his dream, his heart.
Who had taught him this?
'The Captain Encrid.'
He had realized it by watching Encrid's life, his daily training, his relentless practice, and the time he spent honing himself.
He hadn't just learned technique. It wasn't just about physical training.
Andrew had learned from him how to dream.
'What kind of family will I become?'
"What kind of person will I be?"
He spoke aloud as he finished his thoughts.
He would build a proper house under a proper Royal Family. He didn't seek power, he sought the right path.
That was why he was here, for such a life.
Andrew smiled without realizing it.
He didn't know, but that smile resembled Encrid's.
It was the smile of those who chase dreams.
Andrew saw the five trainees in the distance, controlling their breathing.
"Hoo, hoo."
The biggest guy among them had the loudest breaths. It wasn't as if he had no experience, but this was the first time he faced enemies coming with such a clear intent to kill.
A few soldiers stepped forward to block the approaching swordsman.
There was no time to stop them.
Like Andrew, they must have come here by their own will.
The soldiers shouted something as they charged forward.
The swordsman's arm moved. His blade gleamed as it sliced and stabbed.
Thud, thwack, swish.
His blade was so finely honed that wherever it struck, it cut cleanly, and wherever it pierced, it killed.
"Argh!"
A soldier screamed as his fingers were sliced off and he collapsed to the side.
The soldiers defending the gates were no match for this skilled opponent.
"Hoo."
Andrew exhaled deeply, steadying his breathing before stepping forward. He advanced even further.
"Andrew, sir?"
"Don't die a pointless death. Fall back."
There were two opponents.
One was the swordsman at the front, and the other was the tall man wielding a heavy mace behind him.
Andrew's gaze scanned their faces as he approached. He had not only learned how to dream from Encrid.
"Hey, bird-eyed. Come here."
Andrew's words came out bluntly.
The guy who was about to charge into the soldiers turned his head to look at Andrew.
He had turned only his head, remaining in his attacking stance, which made his movements look stiff, like that of a puppet.
'Bird-eyed' was a fitting nickname.
His eyes were tiny, round dots. They looked like someone had poked them with a needle.
Mocking someone for their appearance was easy enough.
This was a battlefield. If needed, one could insult not just the opponent's looks but even their parents.
'As I was taught.'
Andrew steadied his mind.
At any moment, do your best.
That's what Encrid did.
Whether provoking or fighting, do it wholeheartedly.
That's what he said, and Andrew did just that.
"Hey, can you even see in front of you?"
More insults followed. Andrew was dressed like a noble. He wore armor engraved with the Gardner family crest, holding a shield and sword, even wearing a helmet with a visor.
His words, however, didn't match his refined appearance.
The swordsman from Viscount Mernes' house had never experienced such insults in his life. He was a prized sword of the family, accustomed to being treated with respect. He raised his sword.
"I won't let you die easily."
As he spoke in anger—
"Hey, I asked if you can see."
An unexpected response came.
The Viscount's swordsman, enraged, stepped forward and swung his sword.
It was a strike full of force, delivered as he moved forward.
Andrew blocked it with his shield. With a sharp sound, as the blade tried to dig into the shield, he pushed it aside, disrupting the strike and thrusting his sword forward.
His opponent stepped back and shouted.
"Brik!"
At the swordsman's call, the man with the mace approached with heavy steps.
He looked like someone who had stolen the blood of Giants.
"Is your mother a Giant?"
Andrew's quick tongue struck at the man's weak spot without hesitation. Perhaps he was more talented at this than with the sword.
"You bastard."
The man with the mace had veins bulging on his forehead.
"Or is it your father?"
This time, it wasn't Andrew.
One of the trainees chimed in from the side. It was a female trainee with a face full of freckles. She, too, demonstrated what she had picked up from her training. The man's eyes shifted sideways toward her.
"This guy is ours."
The five trainees spoke in unison.
Andrew nodded. All of them, including himself and the five trainees, had survived the hellish training of Rem and endured the demonic Encrid to stand here today.
No matter who came at them, they would fare better than facing two opponents at once.
"Die, blind man!"
Andrew threw out one final provocation.
"You damn bastard."
The enraged opponent rushed at him, and Andrew stabbed at his shoulder. The combination of leather and steel protecting the shoulder fell away, and blood spurted out.
"I'll cut off your tongue first."
Yet the man was still consumed by anger. He didn't even care about his wound, expressing nothing but rage. Andrew nodded and responded calmly.
"Who are you talking to? When you speak to someone, look them in the eyes. Oh, were you already looking at me? My apologies. I didn't notice since I couldn't see your eyes."
Just like how a painting is only complete after adding the eyes to the dragon, Andrew had done the same with his words, pushing the enemy to the brink of madness.
Losing his composure, the opponent charged at him again.
* * *
Squire Lawford observed the battlefield and thought.
'Something's strange.'
The enemy had many soldiers. They were indeed a threat. And the ten men standing before him? Each of them exuded a fierce aura. Three or four of them even seemed to outrank him.
Yet, despite all of this, there was time to catch his breath.
'Is this all of them?'
There were no signs of enemy reinforcements. From the mangonel onward, everything looked threatening.
'But we destroyed that as well…'
Lawford kept thinking. He had seen a man like Encrid and wanted to walk his own path. So what was the reason he was walking this path?
To accumulate wealth and rise in status?
Ignoring, or rather defying, the orders from above was a dangerous act. Even if things went well, he'd at least face a suspension, and if anything went wrong, it would mean prison.
Yet here he was.
'I am a Knight.'
Squire Lawford wanted to fulfill his duty. He had hidden these words deep within his heart.
'For the glory of the Kingdom and the Royal Family.'
He had grown up watching the backs of his seniors, wanting to protect honor.
So, what was Lawford's own personal hell?
'It's the disappearance of the Royal Family.'
His continuous thoughts, combined with his actions and convictions, aligned with the current situation, and an answer surfaced.
A sudden cold sweat ran down his back.
What does the enemy want?
What does the one behind this attack desire?
For the first time, his mind raced. Ears that had always listened to others now turned inward, and he began to hear his own thoughts.
He saw the enemy's forces.
Of course, without Ragna and Dunbachel, it would have been a difficult battle. They were indeed a significant threat.
But he also felt a sense of 'that's it?'.
'If we hold out by the gates, we can manage.'
The path would be tough, but it was possible.
So what's the conclusion?
The person who sent him to Encrid wasn't the sheriff. His face flashed in Lawford's mind. What if that man was on the opposing side?
"The Royal Palace is in danger!"
Lawford slammed his fist down on the wall and shouted.
Yon, down below, heard this. He adjusted his horned helmet. Yon, a warrior from the East, loved to fight.
More precisely, he enjoyed using all kinds of tricks to defeat and kill his enemies.
While Frog Maelrun from the Border Guard took pleasure in defeating slightly weaker opponents.
Yon delighted in watching stronger opponents die in despair. He didn't hesitate to take hostages if it meant getting his enemies to drop their guard. He would do anything if it meant exploiting an opening.
A dark desire.
"Do you know anyone in the Royal Palace?"
Yon asked, his expression serious.
On the surface, he looked like someone who fought with honor and fairness, but his heart was the exact opposite.
Yon touched the wide scar on his cheek, running from his cheekbone to his jaw.
"This scar was from when my wife died."
A lie. But who cared? If it could unsettle his opponent even slightly, it was worth saying anything.
"It didn't even take half a day. It was just as long as it took for this little candle to burn out."
Yon spread his thumb and index finger apart. The gap between them was less than half a finger's length.
"Yeah, not quite a blink, but I was barely this much too late. I'll ask you again. Do you know anyone in the Royal Palace? If you do, I'll let you go. Leave."
Yon could tell at a glance. The man standing in front of him was at least a Junior-Knight. Who knew where such a person had come from?
Since the main forces of the Knights were not supposed to be here at the gate, this guy wasn't with the Knights.
Yon gestured with his hand, and a nearby mercenary lowered a shield that covered half his body with a thud.
It was a companion he had worked with for years. Inside that shield was a net made from the scales and tendons of a monster.
The moment the man in front turned around, they would throw the net.
'Yes, turn around.'
Yon acted like a warrior who knew honor.
Meanwhile, Ragna wasn't listening to a single thing the man said.
"What's this about the Royal Palace?"
Instead, he asked Lawford on the wall above, who simply repeated himself since he couldn't explain everything in detail.
"We must return to protect the Royal Palace!"
Danger? Threat?
Every person has their own personal hell.
Ragna realized why he lacked motivation.
He didn't care if the people here lived or died. It had nothing to do with him. That was the reason.
It was like walking without a destination. Without a destination, there was no need to look back at the path walked, and no need to find a direction to head toward.
'Because I have no attachments.'
There was no motivation.
He had no particular reason to be here. It felt like wearing clothes that didn't fit.
It was like being forced to eat food he found revolting.
He had just now realized this.
The mention of the Royal Palace being in danger led him to think of Encrid's possible peril, and that triggered a thought.
Ragna had found where he was needed.
If this event led to Encrid's death?
'Back to how it used to be?'
It would be a life devoid of any motivation.
He didn't want to return to that. Now that he knew how to move forward and had seen the path ahead, he didn't want the tool necessary for that journey to die. In other words, the Captain couldn't die yet.
But that didn't mean he would disobey his orders.
Encrid's command had been to defend the gate.
So, he would defend it and then leave.
'A shortcut.'
Ragna thought of what needed to be done and the quickest way to proceed.
While he stood there with a vacant look, a mercenary on the opposite side, who was standing behind Ragna, drew his bowstring.
This guy enjoyed close-range shooting with a short bow. Sometimes, he even used poison-tipped arrows. He released the string.
Thwack!
An arrow shot toward Ragna's back. Or so it seemed.
The arrow pierced a mere afterimage.
Ragna had already crouched forward.
The arrow passed where his chest had been and lodged into the ground.
Ragna drew the sword he had briefly sheathed.
Schling.
With the sound of metal scraping, Yon realized something had gone wrong and swung his glaive.
It was futile.
Earlier, Ragna had no motivation, and he hadn't displayed even half of his skill.
Now, things were different.
'To the Royal Palace.'
When a traveler has a destination, their steps gain strength.
So too did Ragna's sword.
* * *
'What is this?'
The ferryman observed but could not intervene.
In other words, the ferryman could witness repeating events. In some ways, it was like seeing parts of the future.
Because of that, he found no joy in what he saw.
Knowing what will happen robs one of the chance to feel enjoyment.
Thus, it had been a long time since he experienced a moment like this, where the outcome was uncertain.
At first, he was bewildered.
But gradually, a part of an old, long-forgotten emotion awakened within him.
It was the joy of witnessing the unknown.
"Hah."
In the mental realm, the ferryman sitting on his small boat floating on the river savored a thrill he had once felt long ago.
It was unpredictable. The future was unseen. Had this always been so delightful?
Today was changing. The day, which he had painted and foreseen repeatedly, was now taking a completely unexpected turn.
Since the ferryman was merely an observer, he continued to watch.
He had an idea of what might have caused this shift, but he didn't bother to think any further.
He simply enjoyed the moment.
In the mental realm, he laughed silently, and because he wanted to fully savor this overwhelming wave of excitement, he laughed aloud as well.
It was that satisfying.