A Knight Who Eternally Regresses-Chapter 344

“This is what you call tea?”

Marcus lifted the teacup in front of him and took a sip. The taste was horrendous. If it had even a hint of herbal fragrance, that would’ve been a relief.

“If that’s the case, why didn’t you just visit the lord’s office?”

Graham, the lord of the city, responded to Marcus’s complaint.

“This place was closer on the way, and besides, I heard the sound of a fight, so I stopped by. What, are you upset about it?”

“Not at all.”

Marcus had gone to Enkrid first? So what?

Graham was indifferent. These days, he was far too immersed in the joy of swordplay.

Should he demand to be respected first just because he was the lord?

He wasn’t some noble.

It didn’t matter.

More than that, he wanted to cross swords with Enkrid himself if time allowed.

It looked like Enkrid had just finished a spar. Would it be too much to ask for a match?

He’d accept any duel at any time, but now wasn’t the moment. Not with Marcus here.

Seated in the dining hall were Graham, Marcus, Enkrid, and Kraiss.

The members of the Mad Platoon had no interest in joining a conversation that smelled of politics.

“Looks like he’s got nothing better to do and just came to play. Entertain him and be done with it.”

That was all Rem said before turning away.

While Marcus was busy complaining about the tea, Enkrid’s focus shifted to the two guards behind him.

Particularly, the one on the left.

A tall man with long /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ arms, a whip coiled around his waist.

The end of the whip had a sharp, weighted tip—getting hit by that wouldn’t just hurt; it could be lethal.

How would he react if I closed the distance?

Curiosity flickered in Enkrid’s mind. A whip was a polearm. The further the range, the greater the advantage.

It was a weapon meant to strike without being struck, making it dangerous in the hands of a skilled user.

Which meant he wanted to fight him.

An opponent wielding an unusual weapon was always worth testing.

“You didn’t even spare our Kin a glance, did you?”

Marcus suddenly directed the remark at Enkrid, who had no idea what he meant.

He didn’t even know who Kin was.

“You really don’t remember that beauty who came to visit from my family?”

“Oh.”

How could he have forgotten? He just hadn’t paid much attention.

“She was fuming because you didn’t even ask for her name.”

Marcus took another sip of the tea before setting the cup down. He must’ve lost interest in drinking it, as he pushed it aside completely.

Enkrid acknowledged it.

That was true. He hadn’t asked for her name. She had waited two days, and when he arrived, he’d told her to leave.

“Is that so?”

“You really don’t care.”

“Should I?”

“No need.”

Marcus smirked. Had he come all this way just because he had time to kill? That didn’t seem likely.

Kraiss, seated beside them, quietly observed Marcus.

He was already analyzing the situation.

His sharp mind spun rapidly, balancing doubt and deduction.

Why had Marcus come here now?

To demand they halt the city’s expansion?

That didn’t seem right.

No, he’s probably using that as a pretext to remove himself from the center of things.

He would have said something like, “As the former lord, I’ll go talk some sense into them.”

It was a reasonable excuse—one that gave him the perfect opportunity to slip away from the capital.

More importantly, why had the central government called Marcus back in the first place?

They had accused him of amassing too many troops, suspecting rebellion, and had ordered him to the capital.

Yet, despite Marcus being absent, the city had only grown. Its forces had expanded. It was becoming a powerhouse.

At this point, it could rightfully be seen as a rising military faction.

“See? It’s not my fault! That’s why I’m here—to talk them down!”

Marcus had probably delivered a polished version of that excuse, but the essence remained the same.

If he had pushed the issue just a little harder, extricating himself from responsibility wouldn’t have been difficult.

So had he really come here to issue a warning?

Kraiss doubted it. His instincts told him otherwise.

What was the real reason he had left the capital at this moment?

What did he want?

What was here in Border Guard that had drawn him?

Kraiss’s gaze naturally drifted to the side.

His eyes landed on Enkrid’s profile. Black hair, blue eyes—a dangerous lunatic, captain of the Mad Platoon.

From the perspective of the royal court, he was an unexpected, razor-sharp blade that had emerged out of nowhere.

Ah.

Kraiss suddenly understood part of the situation.

The captain is here.

Enkrid’s very existence was like a meteor crashing from the heavens.

A blazing red comet that drew the eyes of all who saw it.

The number of people watching had only increased. Some were friendly, some were hostile.

Marcus leaned toward the former, but trusting someone from the political sphere was idiotic.

Kraiss had learned that through books, experience, and instinct.

Likewise, Marcus probably didn’t trust Enkrid so easily.

So, this is confirmation.

What did that mean?

While Enkrid, Marcus, and Graham exchanged idle words, Kraiss’s mind churned.

He tested theories, aligning them with what was unfolding before him.

Matching what he already knew with what he had deduced.

Separating what was still unknown—things that had to remain blank for now.

The conclusions stacked neatly in his head.

Updat𝒆d fr𝒐m freewebnσvel.cøm.

Enkrid needed to know.

If left alone, he could get caught up in something. Maybe not easily—he was too sharp for that.

But danger was on the horizon. Kraiss could see it.

For some reason, his mind drifted back to the image of Enkrid’s back, blocking his path.

Regardless, certain things needed to be addressed. If left unsaid, they would become a disadvantage.

Kraiss understood that.

Which was why he spoke.

“You came here to confirm something, didn’t you?”

The abrupt question made Graham’s head turn first.

As the lord of the city, he had been sleeping well and enjoying his training. He dumped all administrative work on his adjutant. In reality, Kraiss had been handling nearly everything.

The adjutant was just for show.

Under Graham’s approval, Kraiss had even recruited a few aides.

All for managing the city’s expanding operations.

With assistance from the Lockfried Trading Company, the city’s administration had stabilized.

When it came to numbers, few could match them.

Having been well-rested, Graham’s eyes were clear as he looked at Kraiss.

“What are you trying to say?”

Graham asked.

Marcus remained silent, simply watching.

“Why is the one who falsely claims kingship still left unchecked? Why is the kingdom’s territorial defense so weak?”

Kraiss raised his voice slightly.

Graham frowned.

That statement crossed a dangerous line.

It could easily be interpreted as discussing treason.

That was a problem. With their growing army, they were already facing scrutiny and pressure.

Up until now, they had survived thanks to Marcus.

He had kept the central government’s attention at bay.

And now, this?

Kraiss placed his hands on the table, interlacing his fingers, and leaned forward.

“If we were to raise an army here, the capital wouldn’t send its forces. No, they couldn’t.”

Marcus, who had been watching, finally spoke before Graham could.

“And why do you think that?”

“You already know the answer.”

Kraiss gave him a knowing look.

“The one who falsely claims kingship is still left unchecked. The kingdom’s territorial defense is crumbling.”

Monsters and beasts ran rampant, and now there were whispers of low-grade demonic realms forming.

If a squad of knights had been sent to resolve it, that would have been one thing.

But they hadn’t.

Or rather—they couldn’t.

"They can send a single knight-in-training, but they can't send even a fraction of the Order of Knights. Why?"

‘Because they don’t have the resources.’

That was the conclusion Kraiss arrived at.

“There’s something happening in the capital. Something more dangerous and more threatening than dealing with the so-called border king or hunting down monsters and beasts.”

Marcus’s eyes swept over the big-eyed bastard.

Was he always this sharp?

Honestly, he was impressed.

When he arrived at Border Guard, the city had changed.

Particularly, the added military presence at every outpost stood out.

Was that really just for dealing with monsters and beasts?

No. There were additional benefits to this setup.

The first—securing merchants’ trust.

If the outposts were fully stabilized, even smaller traders could safely travel these routes.

And at the current pace, it was only a matter of time before the outposts expanded further.

Marcus had seen it with his own eyes—the bottleneck effect of people flocking to this place.

Merchants’ trust meant that gold—the lifeblood of any city—would flow violently through its veins.

The more copper, silver, and gold circulated freely, the larger and wealthier the city would become.

So naturally...

‘It’s no surprise the surrounding lords are throwing a fit.’

The people of a territory were its strength.

But their farmers were fleeing. Migrating to Border Guard.

And Border Guard had no shortage of space to take them in.

After all, they had Greenpurl.

They had the land—what they lacked was manpower, food supplies, and housing. But those were problems gold could solve.

‘Trade generates gold.’

Rumors attract people.

A brilliant strategy.

And the outposts weren’t just for show.

There was a second, more significant effect.

“A pretext.”

Expanding their military presence would draw the capital’s attention.

And when that happened, they had an excuse ready:

"We need manpower to deal with the monsters and beasts. In return, we’re establishing safe trade routes—doesn’t that benefit everyone?"

"We’re not gathering forces for war. In fact, look—we’re spreading them out. Isn’t that proof enough?"

Would the mastermind behind this plan stop here?

No. If it were Marcus, he wouldn’t either.

He’d expand the trade routes. Extend them to neighboring domains.

They couldn’t connect everything—that was impossible.

‘Instead, they’ll establish a few more frontier cities.’

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

He could already picture it—trade hubs sprawling outward from Border Guard like a spiderweb, anchored by the vast farmlands of Greenpurl and backed by a growing military force.

A territory larger, richer, and stronger than Count Molsen’s so-called border kingdom.

Had they thought this far ahead?

‘Of course they did.’

If not, why even do all of this?

And whose mind had crafted this plan?

Looking at the big-eyed bastard in front of him, Marcus had his answer.

If he had been forced to think this through on his own, he never would have reached the same conclusion.

Marcus rested his elbows on the table, clasping his fingers together as he propped up his chin.

“You said there’s something happening in the capital. What do you think it is?”

“No idea.”

Kraiss shrugged and leaned back.

"I won’t speak recklessly on things I don’t know."

Even though he had already figured plenty out?

This bastard was interesting.

“You’re being disrespectful to your lord.”

One of Marcus’s guards stepped in.

Kraiss didn’t even look at him.

Instead—

“It feels like the roles are reversed, doesn’t it?”

Enkrid muttered, lost in thought.

Wasn’t it usually a subordinate speaking up on behalf of their superior?

Not that it mattered.

He continued,

“Stand down. If you move, I’ll take your head.”

The words were thrown out casually, without a glance.

But the veins on the back of the guard’s hand bulged.

His grip tightened around his sword, a surge of killing intent rising.

Not a knight-in-training. But a man who had clearly survived some very dangerous places.

Enkrid could tell—he wasn’t being taken seriously.

No matter how many rumors circulated, there were always those who didn’t believe them.

He had seen it countless times before.

Back when Frokk or Meelun were resting, random challengers would always pop up—

Men who were above common soldiers but not quite full-fledged knights.

Typically, they were mercenary captains, noble bodyguards—

Like this guy.

“If you draw, I’ll hit you for real. Even if you run your mouth, I’ll hit you.”

Enkrid warned again.

Marcus, amused, made no move to stop it.

Which meant the guard had made up his mind.

He’d teach this cocky bastard a lesson.

Not with a lethal strike—just a flat-bladed smack.

Click.

The latch on his scabbard came undone.

He wasn’t aiming for Enkrid.

His target was Kraiss’s face.

“Forget it.”

Graham’s voice held a note of concern.

It was useless.

The guard drew his sword.

And in the instant he did—

Enkrid stood up, pushing his chair back.

Scrape.

The chair skidded across the floor—

And then tipped over.

In the guard’s vision—

Enkrid disappeared.

Momentary Will.

Enkrid had closed the distance instantly.

“Ugh—!”

The man panicked and tried to pull back—

Enkrid pressed down on his sword hand and drove his opposite elbow into his gut.

Thud.

The blow landed between his diaphragm and heart.

“Guh—!”

The guard gasped for air, staggering back and collapsing.

Audin had taught him that pressure point.

The second guard didn’t move.

Unlike the first, he had better judgment.

He simply watched from behind Marcus, observing in silence.

Enkrid straightened and looked at the fallen man.

Marcus had yet to answer Kraiss’s question.

And what did confirmation mean?

Kraiss had stopped short of his final conclusion, thinking it too dangerous to voice aloud.

But Enkrid?

He didn’t care.

“Is this a civil war?”

That was his question.

What was being confirmed here?

Sides were being drawn.

Was someone a friend or foe?

And why draw sides?

For war.

If it were an external conflict, none of this would be necessary.

Which meant—this was internal.

Marcus smiled.

“You’re sharp.”

Enkrid glanced down.

The fallen guard was still rubbing his stomach, his expression murderous but restrained.

He had realized the difference in skill.

“So you really were a man worthy of ignoring Kin.”

Marcus chuckled.

Enkrid had no idea why that was relevant.