A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

“Ah, Crang.”

Enkrid suddenly spoke while walking.

“Pardon?”

Pell replied, puzzled.

“I left without even saying goodbye.”

“Humans are creatures of forgetfulness. It happens,” Lua Gharne commented.

“Yeah,” Enkrid nodded as he kept walking.

He didn’t bring a horse. While Odd-Eye could’ve handled the route, they’d have to cross both mountains and rivers.

That alone showed he hadn’t chosen a well-paved road. He chose the fastest one instead.

Not that it mattered—the party could handle themselves even without main roads. And lately, the number of monsters in the area had been drastically reduced, making the journey safer. Even if there had been threats, few monsters were a real danger to this group.

The sky was clear, and the midday sun warmed them more than one might expect in winter.

It had been about half a day since they left Border Guard.

They'd set out at dawn and walked through sunrise. At this pace, they could keep walking for several more hours.

Once the sun set, they’d naturally make camp.

“If you fall behind, I’ll leave you behind,” Lua Gharne said, jokingly, to Pell.

“Do I look like someone who grew up eating bread handed out by the knights, living as I was told, and taught to march in line? Shepherds value walking more than swordplay.”

And he meant it. As a former plains shepherd, Pell had absolute confidence in his feet. He had once roamed endlessly, driving sheep.

And not docile, obedient sheep, either.

Like Pell, Lua Gharne was also no stranger to traveling on foot.

“Right,” she said.

Lua was a Frokk, and Frokk were built for travel.

Their preserved rations were mostly dried bugs, which took up little space, and their bodies were resilient enough to shrug off most injuries.

They needed to drink more water, yes—but unless you were crossing a desert, walking along a waterway was standard practice for any drifter.

Third most important rule of roaming the continent.

The first? Never travel alone.

The second? Don’t take unpaved roads.

Enkrid’s group was ignoring two out of three. But they could afford to.

Watching the sun dip westward, Enkrid adjusted their direction slightly—south-east, opposite the setting sun.

The road to the fairy city led them away from the Pen-Hanil mountain range.

From the perspective of Border Guard, that entire region, including the former Count Molsen’s territory and the city once nearly named after Enkrid before being dubbed “The Gnoll’s Wail,” lay north.

Pen-Hanil was also to the north.

Geographically, the mountain range stretched above like a ceiling. Some scholars even called it the Roof Spine or the Skybeam Range.

It was said the mountains’ influence caused colder temperatures in this region than elsewhere.

The wind patterns, maybe? Kraiss might’ve known the specifics. Enkrid didn’t care.

If it was cold, it was cold. If warm, then warm. Most people lived that way.

Enkrid wasn’t any different. He was walking because someone told him the fairy city was in that direction—not because he’d studied maps or had theories about why it was there.

He simply needed to go south.

The first day passed without incident.

Enkrid spent his spare time training. Lua and Pell sparred, and Enkrid found himself murmuring in quiet approval.

“You’ve improved.”

It wasn’t directed at Pell—it was Lua who’d changed.

“I’ve endured pain sharp enough to flay the flesh,” Lua said, smiling.

It seemed so. During the match, Pell had brought down his sword in a vertical slash—an attack launched after hiding the blade behind his back for a brief moment, a strike he’d prepared carefully.

Lua had parried with her left arm, angling her looped blade diagonally into the path.

Of course, neither aimed for fatal wounds.

At their level, sparring was about measuring skills. Going all out could mean real injuries.

“I’m better in real combat,” Pell muttered, dissatisfied.

Enkrid nodded. He wasn’t wrong—Pell’s sword was designed for the field. It lacked finesse in mind games.

Though for someone supposedly weak at feints, he’s surprisingly well trained...

Even if he didn’t enjoy tactical exchanges, his instincts were deeply ingrained. Likely the result of constantly training with Rophod.

When it came to reading the field, Lua ranked just behind Rophod. It made sense Pell would struggle to win in sparring.

Enkrid made a mental note.

Let’s help Pell fill in his gaps.

A gesture of goodwill, whether Pell saw it that way or not.

They’d had breakfast at Border Guard, and lunch had been preserved rations eaten while walking.

“You bought this jerky after hearing about the new seasoning, didn’t you?” Pell asked, impressed.

“I had no idea. Kraiss packed it.”

“Ah.”

Pell nodded. Kraiss was meticulous, always prepping what travelers might need. And it made you appreciate him more than expected.

Both Enkrid and Pell had been too busy training to know that the jerky shop that’d taken Border Guard by storm had even expanded into Martai.

They’d only heard vague rumors.

Dinner was a bit more involved.

They brought out a pot, scooped water from a nearby stream, and added dried vegetables like carrots and squash. They even threw in fragments of lucky fish for flavor.

Once the broth simmered, Enkrid cut hardened bread into small chunks and tossed them in.

“What is this?” Pell asked.

“Back when I was a mercenary and there was nothing to eat, we’d boil water and throw in half-baked bread. I just tried to make that edible.”

His camp cooking wasn’t stellar—but far from the worst.

“This is more like raw dough than bread,” Pell remarked.

Then, after a spoonful of the broth and mushy chunks, he paused—then exhaled deeply like a soldier recovering from a punch.

“K-kheugh.”

“I’ll make it better tomorrow. I’ll add beef.”

“You said you couldn’t cook?”

It was admiration disguised as confusion.

“I said I only know how to make a few things.”

Enkrid answered casually.

“Better than bugs?” Lua chimed in.

“Is that even a question?” Pell looked at her in disbelief.

“Want a handful anyway?” she said, pulling out dried larvae.

Pell declined with a calm shrug.

“No thanks. I know they’re valuable when supplies run low, but we’re not there yet.”

And then he happily spooned more broth into his mouth, tearing off bits of the soggy dough-turned-dumplings.

“Sticks to the ribs,” Pell said, giving a thumbs up. He even muttered something about hidden talents.

“Right.”

They camped after dinner. No caves were needed—just a wide cloak under a big tree would do.

The second day’s meals were similar.

Breakfast and lunch: preserved rations.

The spiced jerky was delicious, but after three days max, they’d tire of it and switch to salted meat.

Even that, though less flavorful, had been carefully prepared by a city merchant. It wasn’t bad.

Not one of [N O V E L I G H T] them complained.

On day two, they passed near the site of the harpy ambush.

The place, once steeped in blood and carrion stench, now felt entirely different.

“Welcome.”

They hadn’t seen any guards the first day, having taken a shortcut. But now there was an outpost.

A soldier in thick gambeson recognized Enkrid and saluted.

From memory, Enkrid pictured three such outposts forming a ring. The center was likely just beyond a small hill.

Not ideal for a city—not enough water—but maybe good for a temporary trade post?

These days, land routes were being developed alongside waterways.

A small open market here would make sense.

Unthinkable in the past.

You’d have to be mad to build a marketplace without walls—offering a blood-and-wine banquet to monsters every night.

A few tents and wooden fences wouldn’t stop anything.

But now, things had changed.

Border Guard's standing army had wiped out nearly every monster in the area.

Outposts were built. Regular patrols ran.

Even monsters were rare now. Bandits? Practically extinct.

Why steal in Border Guard when hauling bricks to a construction site paid just fine?

Sure, crazies might still form gangs or “brotherhoods,” but none could show themselves openly.

Still, no such thing as a completely monster-free winter.

Sometimes, the Snow Devils came during heavy blizzards.

Sometimes, Yetis descended from Pen-Hanil.

But for now—yes, for now—it was peaceful.

A fragile peace, forged with swords, strength, politics, and krona.

Call it forced? Maybe. But not entirely.

Behind the guard, four traveling merchants walked together.

Even seeing a Frokk and three armed travelers, they didn’t react.

In the past, any traveler seeing armed strangers on the road would've turned and run.

Or they wouldn’t have dared travel in a group of four at all.

They were chatting non-stop. From what Enkrid caught, they were exaggerating tales of close calls and daring escapes.

“Would you like to stay at the post tonight?” the soldier asked.

Enkrid shook his head.

“We’re in a hurry. Everything quiet?”

“No incidents on duty, sir. Though... there are recent rumors of a giant.”

“A giant?”

“Some merchants say they saw one snoring beneath a tree. Another says it looked right at him and muttered, ‘Your eye color’s strange.’”

This soldier wasn’t a post commander for nothing—his reports were thorough.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Enkrid clapped him on the shoulder.

“Thank you, sir!”

To the Border Guard troops, Enkrid wasn’t just a commander. He was a hero.

A man who rose from nothing to knighthood.

People could’ve grown envious of his rapid rise and the way he was revered across the territory.

But that window had passed.

Maybe it was his reputation, maybe his character—either way, most soldiers respected him.

Old veterans and new recruits alike.

“Well then.”

“Safe travels, sir!”

Somehow, this had turned into a spontaneous inspection of the southern outposts.

Enkrid didn’t mind.

He was seeing the result of his own blade.

“Shepherds believe in defending themselves. But... this kind of order isn’t so bad either,” Pell said as they crossed dry fields and two rolling hills.

He had a thoughtful look—clearly reflecting on what he’d seen.

“Right. Let’s spar.”

Enkrid answered without hesitation.

“Now?”

“Now.”

The sun was setting. It was early, being winter. Pell nodded, raising his sword carefully.

Enkrid was working to refine his swordsmanship. From his various styles, he picked one.

Iron Wall was for blocking.

His all-out strike was meant to end things in a single blow.

He wove in a technique from Valen-style mercenary swordsmanship.

Valen Style Mercenary Blade:

“Intimidation Without a Sword.”