A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

After hearing the whole story, Aisia briefly forgot her fatigue and smiled.

She’d been irritable from the dwindling supplies.

The fact that a knight-at-arms had to personally step in just to bring back a few merchants was telling of how dire the situation was.

What an utterly inefficient way to handle things.

That was just the kind of city Thousand Brick was. Being a knight-at-arms didn’t give anyone the luxury of acting high and mighty here.

Even Aisia needed time to adjust to the place. The feeling she had when she saw Lady Oara hammering a nail in with the flat of her short sword—well, it was hard to put into words.

It was like watching someone plow a field with a holy sword.

And yet, Lady Oara smiled.

Brightly smiling Oara.

Oara, the Smiling One.

The Laughing Blade, Oara.

Oara, with a smile like sunlight.

Every nickname for Lady Oara seemed to follow the same theme.

She smiled easily and often.

Aisia had seen that smile once and immediately wrote a letter asking the capital to send a few craftsmen, then sent it off with a pigeon.

”You’re the best. Handsome too. As expected.”

Aisia banished her thoughts and gave a thumbs up as she spoke.

”Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

”A Lady Oara-style compliment.”

Aisia seemed to have picked up a sense of humor along the way. Enkrid listened as she filled him in on what else needed to be handled besides Jack the Blade.

Apparently, one of the deserters had joined forces with a heretic and founded a new religion—a full-blown cult now.

Aisia mentioned the cult leader had been holed up for about two years already, and judging by its size, she was sure a heretic bishop had a hand in it.

“I want to run over there and kill the bastard right now, but if a wave hits while Lady Oara’s away, we’re finished.”

That same reason kept Aisia from leaving too.

The harpies and monsters would poke at the city here and there, and if anyone left their post, a deadly raid could happen at any moment.

That’s why Enkrid’s arrival was so welcome.

Still, this wasn’t a simple battle. It was a pursuit. A hunt. A drawn-out fight. So Aisia wasn’t overly optimistic.

The cult leader was incredibly fast, always on the run. If he weren’t, she would’ve clenched her teeth, carved out the time, and killed him herself by now.

Honestly, if Enkrid hadn’t come, she would’ve found a chance to go end the bastard herself.

He wasn’t even some proper bishop of a dark cult—just a jumped-up lunatic calling himself a prophet or god. The kind Aisia could slit the throat of and be back by lunchtime.

Enkrid asked a few more questions.

Where the colony was located, its size, the traits of the cultists.

Aisia answered what she could.

“You saw the tavern in town? The owner knows more than I do.”

“He seemed furious about the alcohol ban.”

“He’s got a reputation for being a decent guy. Just go in, order a few dishes, and get him talking. Oh—and watch out for one of the cultists. I heard there’s a swordsman who uses magic.”

“What kind of magic?”

If they were casting spells, that would require caution.

He could breathe fire from his hands or entangle enemies in spiderwebs.

Enkrid had sparred with Esther and gained a lot of experience with that sort of thing.

He hadn’t exactly gained enlightenment through fighting mages, but at least he was no stranger to handling them.

That’s why he asked.

“They said his stomach had a hole in it, and no one even touched him.”

Aisia mimed a stabbing motion in the air with the edge of her hand.

She said a few soldiers had been hit like that, and she added that if they ever caught those cultist bastards, she’d punch a hole right through their skulls.

Enkrid had heard everything he needed to, but this wasn’t the kind of job where you’d just go out and find them standing around.

Three new colonies had sprung up recently.

There was a reason this was called the edge of the Demon Realm. If you left it alone for a while, insane beasts would gather and start nesting.

“Welcome to Thousand Brick, edge of the Demon Realm.”

Aisia said it with renewed emphasis, and Enkrid nodded calmly.

The Demon Realm didn’t change anything. There were just a few more monsters than usual. That wasn’t much different from any other border garrison.

Aisia was clearly overworked and needed rest. The dark shadows under her eyes looked like they might birth a ghost.

As a knight-at-arms, she probably had decent stamina, but she’d had an exhausting streak lately.

“I’ve been up two nights straight. Because of those damn harpies.”

If they attacked all at once, she could lead the troops and push back, but instead they came in little waves—just a few at a time, peeking from afar, only poking if it looked safe.

Even for a knight-at-arms, catching a harpy using spells while fleeing was no easy task.

It wasn’t impossible, but they always kept just out of reach.

They didn’t even come close to the outer watchtowers or walls of Thousand Brick.

The only time Aisia got to fight them was when they swooped in to attack the merchant group, and she’d rushed in after the fact to help.

Even then, Aisia considered herself lucky.

Because she got the chance to slaughter a few of those damned things.

“Millio. Show them to the lodging and mess hall.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Aisia handed off the escort to a soldier named Millio, whom Enkrid remembered seeing at the gate.

As Enkrid walked through the city, he kept an eye out for any ruckus—shouting, swearing, brawls. He was looking for Rem. But nothing seemed particularly rowdy.

It was still just a reasonably noisy, smelly city.

Most of the smell was sweat.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

The sour stench from clothes soaked in it mingled with the damp air to create a fantastic kind of harmony.

People were training their muscles or swinging weapons all over the place.

“One, take the monster’s head!”

“Two, smash it!”

“Die with a smile!”

“Oah!”

Chants rang out.

A group of six was seen lifting logs, training their bodies.

Most of the others were fletching arrows and tuning their longbows.

They were drenched in sweat. The weather was like that.

Even standing still would make you sweat like a sponge.

The air reeked. Not quite rotting, but unpleasant enough to punch you in the nose.

Dunbakel, who’d been frowning from the very start because of the smell, finally covered her nose.

“This stinks. Don’t these guys ever bathe?”

“Do you have no shame?”

Enkrid scolded her.

“What? I washed. Ten days ago.”

If their room had a tub today, Enkrid resolved to dunk Dunbakel in it headfirst.

Ten days ago—that was during their journey here.

Dunbakel had reached a stream, dipped her fingers in, and splashed a few drops on her face.

She called that washing.

“Hope the bathtub’s sturdy.”

At Enkrid’s comment, Dunbakel instinctively took a step back.

Of course, that wouldn’t change the outcome.

Lua Gharne, being a Frokk, was used to humid air. In fact, she liked it.

The smell wasn’t unbearable either. Frokk could regrow limbs even if they were severed, so their sense of touch tended to be duller.

Humid environments were actually welcome.

Their idea of relaxation was to soak half their body in lake water now and then.

They weren’t frogs, but they liked everything frogs liked.

Catching bugs with their tongues, bathing in muddy swampwater—it was peak leisure for them.

Lua Gharne thought back to the times the royal palace had made such arrangements for her.

“I wonder if there’s a tub full of mud here.”

Of course, there wasn’t.

“Mud, you say?”

Millio responded to Lua Gharne’s comment. The soldier with the heavy baritone still wanted a chance to face off with Enkrid, but for now, he focused on his duties.

He was a soldier who fulfilled his obligations.

“If you circle around the western gate and follow the edge of the Gray Forest, there’s a swamp. But don’t go there. The swamp’s always covered in poisonous fog.”

That felt like an unnecessary warning.

Enkrid thought so as he turned his gaze elsewhere.

The city came into view again, catching his eye. He’d seen it earlier, but it still stood out as something unique.

The houses were scattered irregularly, and the dirt road that ran through the city connected both of its gates.

Most buildings were constructed by stacking neat bricks «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» on raised platforms, with the actual houses built atop them.

It became clear why—it was a precaution against the ground flooding easily during rain.

There were drainage ditches carved throughout to help with that.

Most were angled to let water run downhill.

The most striking was the massive central trench, like a small cave without a ceiling, dug deep into the ground.

At that size, it probably turned into a stream during heavy rain. Had a giant come and dug it out?

“Lady Oara’s work,” Millio said, noticing where Enkrid was looking. The soldier was sharp.

His tone was rough, but a kind heart peeked through.

According to him, a knight had done the digging with a shovel.

Was that supposed to be surprising? Enkrid didn’t know how to react, so he ignored it.

Regardless, thanks to that huge trench, it didn’t look like any of the homes would suffer flood damage.

Enkrid continued observing.

There was a general store, a grocer, a tavern, some abandoned houses, a blacksmith, a butcher shop, a few storefronts that didn’t seem to sell anything, a couple of freestanding buildings with half-shattered wooden dummies between them, and a place selling stacked firewood.

“Merchants from outside trade goods for krona, but here most people buy things with contribution points,” Millio explained, choosing his words carefully. The city operated on a peculiar system.

“Contribution points?” Dunbakel asked, still covering her nose, her voice muffled.

Millio nodded and continued.

“Yes, contribution points. You gain them by killing monsters or beasts. Or by doing things that help the city, like repairing the gate. If you’re aiming for a big reward, you can also assist Lady Oara in battle. You killed that harpy earlier, didn’t you? Spellcasting harpies are considered rare types, so that alone should cover food and lodging for the next ten days.”

Enkrid cast his gaze around, thinking the system was strange.

Almost no one was unarmed.

Everyone carried a bow.

Each of them also wore a mark—a line pattern—on their shoulder.

“Oh, those aren’t unit insignias. They represent rank. It’s based loosely on Naurillia’s military classification system. Once a month, a knight’s squire visits to provide training.”

One line meant lower rank, two meant intermediate, three was high rank.

Once the lines began to curve, it signified a commander.

It was similar to the palace system but slightly different. Still, marking it visibly on the shoulder for quick recognition was smart.

“We should adopt that in the Border Guard too.”

As Enkrid continued scanning the city, a strange feeling crept in.

The smell was foul, yes—but somehow familiar.

It felt like coming home.

Not his actual home, but the kind of place that put your mind at ease.

The weather was still miserable.

Sticky sweat clung to his skin, and he felt the urge to bathe immediately.

The kind of day where you felt justified in grabbing Dunbakel by the head and shoving her into a bathtub.

Then Enkrid spotted two soldiers in a small clearing, sparring with wooden clubs.

A duel.

They weren’t fighting—they were testing each other’s skill.

Both shirtless, wearing only trousers, they swung long wooden sticks.

At that moment, he realized: this wasn’t a city.

“This isn’t a city. It’s a barracks.”

Thousand Brick was a city in name only.

In truth, it was a massive garrison.

And it made sense.

To fend off the endless waves of monsters and beasts, they had to be ready.

There was no farmland here, no commercial hub. Who would live in a place like this, if not for combat?

Everyone was a fighter.

“They turned the entire city into a barracks.”

And who else could’ve done it?

Lady Oara.

It was her doing.

“All right, you’ll be staying here. Meals are on the first floor. Just mention you’re the Demon Slayer—everyone’ll know who you are.”

It was a large brick building. Looked to be in better shape than the one Lady Oara stayed in.

The door was covered in graffiti.

Words carved into it with sharp tools, maybe a knife.

“Run while you can. It’s not too late.”

“Eternal glory to Lady Oara.”

“I’ll crush monster skulls. For life.”

“Oah!”

“Die with a smile!”

Those kinds of things.

Enkrid pushed the door open.

If this was a barracks, then it meant the city’s residents were all warriors.

He entered the building and immediately saw the soldier and the prostitute who’d been bickering earlier. Their appearances had changed.

The soldier now wore a worn linen outfit and was carrying food.

The woman was geared up. A shortbow slung diagonally over her back, light leather armor—she was dressed for a mission.

“Welcome,” the soldier said.

The woman glanced at Enkrid.

“So you’re the Demon Slayer, huh? You’re pretty damn handsome.”

Was this part of the unit’s culture?

Or had Lady Oara’s influence shifted things in this direction?

The woman didn’t hide her thoughts. After she spoke, most of the people in the dining area turned to look at Enkrid.

“…Looks aren’t everything,” the soldier carrying food muttered.

Lua Gharne couldn’t resist stepping in.

“He’s not just handsome. Everything else is excellent too.”

Nonsense.

Enkrid ignored it and took a seat. The woman came closer.

“Name’s Rowena. I’m a decanus.”

A decanus—someone who commands a group of ten.

“I saw you earlier in the alley,” Enkrid said, his curiosity piqued.

“Oh, that’s my side job.”

In this city, everyone was a soldier.

“Come find me if you need anything.”

Her words carried a double meaning. Whether she meant work during the day or… something else at night wasn’t clear.

“You won’t. Or maybe you will. Who knows.”

Dunbakel muttered with a vulgar hand gesture, her fist dangling down.

Enkrid turned to the owner.

“Is there a place to wash here?”

“Huh? Yes. We’ve got a bathtub.”

The owner answered, and Dunbakel tried to slip away—only to be caught by the scruff of the neck by Enkrid.