A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Count Molsen had three wives and six concubines.

For a noble living in this era, it was not a flaw.

He had many descendants under his care.

He had more children than the Royal Family combined, both sons and daughters.

Even so, there wasn’t a single child that he was particularly fond of. How rarely do things go as one wishes in this world.

“I will handle it.”

One of his sons said. Count looked into the eyes of the son who had entered from the coachman’s seat.

In those eyes, there was a glimpse of jealousy and anger.

Was it because he was hit? Or was it because the person well-known across the Pen-Hanil continent didn’t appear that way to him? If so, was it because he found it irritating?

The name Encrid was known all the way to the Kingdom’s capital.

So it was understandable to be jealous.

But to show it outwardly.

‘He’s good at fighting.’

But this son was lacking in other aspects. He couldn’t distinguish when to suppress his emotions and use his head and when not to.

At best, he could be used as a guard.

This is why raising children doesn’t go as planned.

Count had other plans to secure his lineage, so he no longer had any lingering regrets.

This was why he no longer had any more children.

‘If it were me.’

Instead of envying and hating that guy, he would have thought of making him an ally.

He still thought that way now.

However, there was one thing that ticked him off.

“You haven’t seen his eyes, have you.”

He said to his son, who blinked his eyes.

Eyes that seemed to wonder what on earth he was talking about. In a way, they resembled those of a cow. No wonder he fought so stubbornly.

Eyes are the windows to the heart and mirrors reflecting a person.

“That guy.”

Count paused for a moment after speaking. Was what he saw correct? Yes. It was an attitude and aura that left no room for doubt or reconsideration.

“He wants to fight.”

“What?”

“He seemed to want to fight me.”

The son, who had been wearing a bewildered expression, burst out in anger at those words.

“How dare he!”

“Why? Do you think he shouldn’t?”

Count interrupted his son’s words.

He himself felt a similar spark of competitiveness. Those eyes, upright and straightforward, asking to compete with what they had, reached his heart as well.

Seeing that, he wanted to gauge how skilled he was.

But it wasn’t possible to fight him directly. He couldn’t accept such a thing.

One shouldn’t easily give what others desire.

That was what he had learned in his life.

In any case, coming to see his face wasn’t a futile act.

‘He’s an interesting fellow.’

But an interesting fellow that couldn’t be left alone.

Now, then, how to keep him by his side.

When people have a debt of gratitude, they are easy to manipulate. So how to create that debt?

“What should we do about the southern beasts, Father?”

The words ‘Father’ ticked in his heart. But he didn’t criticize it. Sometimes, just being connected by blood meant no oath of loyalty was necessary.

The son before him was such a case.

‘Who was this child’s mother again?’

Greta? Helen?

Anyway, it would be nice to give a small gift to the mother of such a loyal and sturdy child.

This act alone would stir up the power struggle among the wives within his household, but that was the point. Let them fight and compete.

After all, it was all happening under his control. Everything was within his command.

“Leave it be.”

The original reason for his expedition was to deal with the beast hordes coming up from the south. Some were dealt with, and some were left alone.

Later, the Border Guard would have a headache dealing with the remaining beast hordes.

‘Then they would seek my help.’

This would happen within a few months, at most a year.

“What about those who move under the cover of night?”

In response to the Count’s question, his son bowed his head and answered.

‘Geor’s Dagger’ referring to a notorious group of assassins known throughout the continent.

His son had managed to make contact with those who had infiltrated the Border Guard.

Just as their conversation ended, the coachman spoke up from the front.

“Someone is blocking the road ahead. What should we do?”

“Stop.”

If someone in the northern Pen-Hanil blocked the Count’s carriage without recognizing his emblem, their intelligence was in question. If they knew and still blocked the way, it meant they had business with him.

It was the latter.

The person was entirely covered in black cloth.

‘An audacious fellow.’

Count thought as he opened the door of the carriage and asked.

“Who are you?”

“Geor’s Dagger.”

A short reply came back.

“You insolent!”

His son jumped out of the carriage, shouting. Words like ‘Do you know who you’re standing before?’ and ‘Arrogant wretch’ followed.

The person claiming to be from Geor’s Dagger listened silently.

“What is your purpose?”

Then spoke only what he needed to say. The enraged son drew his sword.

Clang!

“Let’s cut off an arm first and then talk.”

His son said. While he was known for his skill within his territory, the opponent was from the infamous Geor’s Dagger.

The fact that he stood alone with such confidence was telling.

“Stop.”

Count addressed his son. His son’s eyes twitched in anger, but he stepped back.

“We need someone in the Border Guard to be dealt with.”

The opponent lived by assassination, addressing him accordingly was sufficient.

This was a test. Could the target withstand even an assassin from the Geor’s Dagger?

Half wanting to recruit him, half wanting to get rid of an eyesore, this mission leaned towards the latter.

“Name?”

“Encrid.”

“Impossible.”

‘……?’

Rejection? No, it was a refusal without even a breath of hesitation. Did the person in front of him know that name? Well, recently, that person had been gaining quite the reputation.

“It doesn’t have to be a kill, you know?”

“Impossible.”

Another refusal without a moment’s hesitation.

Not asking for an immediate kill, but even suggesting just a partial elimination was met with refusal.

Aren’t these the people who would do anything for a pile of gold coins?

“Are you afraid?”

Even with the provocative remark, the response was silence. The only word spoken again was “impossible.”

“In that case, just investigate his surroundings. Find out if he has family, who’s around him, what he possesses, how he ended up where he is now, what he wants to do. Do you understand?”

The man entirely covered in black, the assassin from Geor’s Dagger, contemplated and then nodded.

“I will send someone on the second day of each month. We can exchange information for compensation then.”

“Don’t overcharge. You bloodsuckers who survive on the edge of a knife.”

Count added a remark. He was a man who rarely expressed his emotions openly. To his son, it seemed like he did this for him.

To the man from the Geor’s Dagger, it seemed more like an urging to get the job done properly rather than a threat.

The assassin retreated silently.

Count climbed back into the carriage.

“Father.”

“There are times to endure. It’s not good to show your emotions recklessly.”

Like teaching royal etiquette, Count admonished his son as the carriage departed.

The man from the Geor’s Dagger watched until the carriage was out of sight and then removed his mask.

It had been a while since he covered his entire body, and it felt stifling.

‘To feel this suffocated.’

It was because he had lived a relaxed life for too long. On the battlefield, showing one’s face meant fighting straightforwardly.

To Jaxon, that straightforwardness in battle was refreshing.

Though it was sneaking up and cutting throats, there were plenty of easier ways to kill, yet why use one’s hands directly?

Even if the enemy might notice, why approach with such careful steps?

So, to him, it seemed like a legitimate fight. Almost refreshing, in a way.

‘No, perhaps not refreshing.’

He had seen his commander’s and barbarian’s or religious fanatic’s fight. It was hard to call those fights refreshing. His battlefield was.

But that didn’t mean he disliked it.

Everyone had their battlefield.

“How did it go?”

As he walked towards the city, a companion joined him midway. It was the woman from the brothel. Personally, she was like a lover, and within the organization, she led those with excellent information-gathering skills.

“Like a snake.”

It was his way of describing Count, whom he saw as deceitful and cunning. That’s how he appeared.

“Hmm, that’s not good.”

The woman replied.

“Did you find out?”

Jaxon asked, and the woman nodded. The two walked towards the city, conversing.

“It’s likely related.”

Just because they belonged to the Geor’s Dagger didn’t mean they accepted all requests.

Moreover, Jaxon was not in a position to take on requests.

But he had his reasons, the purpose for which he had joined the army.

It was a clue relevant to that reason. Originally, he was about to leave as the trail had gone cold, but this changed things.

He had come here for revenge.

This was a clue for that.

“I thought he might ask you to kill that Company Commander.”

“I refused.”

“Is that okay?”

The opponent was a noble known by the nickname ‘Grand Duke of the North’. Although his actual title was only that of a Count, it was because the Royal family was wary of him. In reality, his power was akin to that of a grand duke.

To be honest, if they really set their minds to it, even the Geor’s Dagger wouldn’t be able to easily take him down.

Such was the might of a high-ranking noble who ruled over a territory.

“Doesn’t matter to me.”

Jaxon replied.

Hmm. The woman nodded inwardly. Indeed, he had always been like this.

He had said that the commander of his company was gradually losing his mind, but Jaxon himself wasn’t exactly the picture of sanity.

“Let’s go.”

Jaxon moved first towards the city. The woman spoke from behind.

“Visit more often.”

There was no reply.

Geor’s Dagger had decided to carry out the mission. By providing information, they could uncover a lot in return.

Jaxon did not feel burdened by this task.

Should he inform his commander in advance? The thought crossed his mind, but it didn’t seem necessary.

The news he would relay would be trivial.

‘No family, lives for the sword, dreams of being a Knight.’

Hmm, excellent. If he conveyed this, the other side might think he was joking, but what could he say when such a person truly existed?

Even if he had risen from a mere mercenary to a soldier and then to a Company Commander, Encrid’s dreams would still seem like empty fantasies to outsiders.

However, how did those who saw him up close perceive him?

Even Marcus seemed to believe in his words now.

Anyway, it was a city filled with madmen.

Jaxon finished preparing to enter among them.

It was time to be a cunning alley cat, a soldier guarding the battlefield, a subordinate assisting his Company Commander, not as a member of the Geor’s Dagger.

If left alone, the crazy barbarian would do crazy things again, and controlling that was also his responsibility. At least, he intended to do his job while he was here.

---

“This is the stance of the Grand Duke of the North.

He wants the title of Duke.

But the Royal family refused.

Why?

According to Count, it’s because the Royal Family wants to push him aside.

Why? Afraid of losing the throne? Then they should lose it if they lack the power to keep it. Count argues that it’s a world where if you don’t have strength, you lose and have to give up everything.

But the Royal Family remains silent.

They just say they are following the laws. Everything is for Naurillia. If you want the title of Duke, do something worthy of it. They say things like that.

It’s all a facade. Everyone who knows anything about politics knows Count is interested in seizing the throne.”

At the end of Krais’ long explanation, Encrid asked his question.

“The nobles of the Border Guard seem to know nothing about this?”

“They are half-wits.”

I see. Encrid nodded. These were people who knew nothing and considered unearned titles to be grand.

Such were the nobles of the Border Guard, embarrassing to even call them nobles.

Recently, one such noble had found himself either in heaven or hell thanks to Rem’s axe.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

They said he was killed by bandits, specifically the Black Blade Bandits, but a few perceptive nobles suspected Marcus might have had a hand in it.

This was not something Encrid needed to concern himself with.

He was merely curious about Count Molsen.

He had undergone repeated training, amassed numerous experiences, honed his body through the Isolation Technique, developed an eye for assessing his opponent’s skills, and thanks to Jaxon, had even opened the Eye of Sixth Sense.

‘That son of his…’

He didn’t suddenly feel like taking on an opponent.

But that Count?

The moment he saw him, a competitive spirit flared up.

His body was like hardened steel.

And those eyes.

‘A wizard.’

Had he ever seen a wizard more than a couple of times?

Moreover, there’s always the case of a panther that turns into a human nearby.

Since Rem knew about it, it was only natural for Encrid to know as well.

Esther didn’t seem to think it was much of a secret.

Well, Encrid had figured it out before Rem did.

When Esther heard about it, she asked,

“Even during a bath?”

She had asked.

Wizards are those who delve into arcane secrets and walk the path of mystery.

Encrid thought they wouldn’t care about any physical contact between men and women. So, he didn’t think much of it.

However, recently, Esther had been less frequently falling asleep in his arms.

She said the reason was that ‘it’s not as necessary now’.

It wasn’t something to be overly concerned about.

“What are you doing?”

Rem asked from beside him. He had been lost in idle thoughts with nothing else to do.

They were in the middle of intensive unit training. Encrid was also on the platform, practicing the Isolation Technique.

During this time, those he had sent to run had returned.

“All back?”

“Yes, we’re back.”

Rem said with a sly grin. This guy seemed to draw strength from tormenting others. He had a uniquely nasty temperament.

“Did everyone run?”

Looking at his troops, Encrid thought,

‘Their stamina is pathetic.’

Everything starts with a well-conditioned heart.

That’s why.

For seven days, they did nothing but run while armed. It could be called a simple training, but for those doing it, it was grueling.

Why wouldn’t it be?

From morning to noon, and then from noon to evening,

They just ran.

Around the training ground, outside the city, up the hills surrounding the city.

Their breaths were ragged and labored.

Their entire bodies screamed in pain, naturally.

The most exhausted were the 1st Company.

“Our company’s training is different from yours.”

There were a few who expressed a strange sense of superiority, but they soon turned pale and ended up looking the same as the other soldiers.

“We should be running in light armor too, this is unfair!”

Since they were ordered to run with their own gear, the Heavy Infantry Company naturally had to run in heavy armor.

Hearing this, Rem excitedly rushed out.

Standing before him was the very soldier who had been showing off that sense of superiority from the beginning of the training.

Encrid had given a warning. He told them not to hit anyone without a valid reason, as without a justified cause, the training would turn into mere torture.

The idea was to toughen them up, not to make them give up entirely.

Although Encrid himself thought this kind of training was unreasonable, it was the commander’s decision to make.

Rem was just thrilled to finally have his moment to step up as the instructor.

“Unfair, huh? You little punk! Then switch to the 2nd Company! Didn’t you say the training was different for you guys? Where’s that 1st Company pride now?”

Rem stepped up and glared directly at the soldier. One more word of defiance and he would have resorted to force.

The soldier quickly lowered his eyes.

Talking to this madman was pointless.

‘Hmm, good.’

Encrid watched this and thought the training was proceeding well enough.

He even worried that the intensity might be too low.

Truly the delusion of a mad Company Commander.

It made sense, given that Encrid himself had endured much harsher conditions.

So, to him, this level of training seemed just right.

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