A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Enkrid knew there were times when he acted boldly. And the masked man sitting before him was no less daring.

“How do I look?”

The man behind the mask—his name was Kridianat Landiers Nauril.

He was the king of the nation Enkrid belonged to.

“Do you really need to cover your face while sneaking around in a black carriage at night?”

“It just feels different. You know? The vibe.”

Crang—Kridianat’s nickname—lowered his mask as he replied.

There had been several steps to get him here, but the biggest factor was Crang’s own will.

Chronologically, the news of the war’s outcome had reached Nauril, and the king had been informed of the nearly impossible—zero casualties.

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

Some, particularly those envious of Enkrid, had scoffed at the report.

This was even before rumors began to spread of an “Iron Wall” stopping an entire army.

“Wouldn’t it make more sense to say four soldiers from the Border Guard became knights and formed a new knighthood to repel them? That at least sounds plausible.”

One of them had unwittingly hit close to the truth—but still, it was all idle talk among themselves.

The royal palace quickly dispatched a delegation—ten or so in total, including Andrew Gardner.

“I was supposed to join the main force as reinforcement, but—why is it already over?”

His face was a mix of joy, confusion, and disbelief.

On his way here, Andrew had heard the spreading legend of Enkrid and the Iron Wall—a name shaking the region.

Enkrid had already been famous within the Border Guard—ladies from noble houses vied for his attention, major merchants wanted connections, and some wandering swordsmen had joined under his command.

But this time, the rumors had gone far beyond that.

If Enkrid declared “I’m king starting tomorrow,” people might actually gather under his banner.

He could crown himself or turn this place into a principality—nobody would stop him.

The most outlandish part of the rumor?

“He stopped an entire army by himself?”

He didn’t even kill them. He just glared, and they stopped?

Some said a wall appeared behind him. Others claimed he slashed the ground and a barrier of light shot forth to block the enemy.

The stories twisted further as they spread—eventually, someone even said an army of flaming angels descended, hurling men skyward with a gesture.

All nonsense, of course. But the part about stopping an army alone—that was true.

“Is it true?”

Andrew had wanted to abandon his unit and sprint ahead to see it for himself—but he had to handle logistics first. Armies eat and sleep, and the cost of sustaining them can’t be dumped on a war-torn city like the Border Guard.

He wasn’t reinforcement anymore, just an after-the-fact visitor. And staying in the city came with a price his own purse couldn’t quite handle.

So, he sent the army back—and soon received official orders to join the diplomatic mission. Since he # Nоvеlight # was nearby and already familiar, it was convenient.

“Yeah,” Enkrid nodded plainly to Andrew’s question.

Andrew’s pupils shook like mad.

“How?”

“Create a forest made of will.”

It was Shinar who answered—but it was completely incomprehensible.

“To honor your service, the king wishes you to return to the capital from the Border Guard in a month.”

One of the envoys said this, carefully, and Enkrid nodded. That should’ve ended the envoy’s role—but one of them came to Enkrid again late at night.

Naturally, Andrew was with him.

And Enkrid and his unit had already identified who the envoy really was.

“Are you out of your mind?”

Enkrid asked with rare sincerity.

There was a lot said, but the core of it was this:

“I’m not crazy. No one will know. And come on—you, the Iron Wall Sword himself, are by my side. What danger could there be? Azpen’s busy opening every door for diplomacy and damage control. I’ll bet five silver they’re scrambling just to restore internal order.”

“Five silver’s kinda stingy for a king.”

“National treasury’s tight. Part of why I came in person—need some krona.”

Andrew’s eyes rolled hard. Even he knew this was insane.

What kind of king fakes an illness to sneak out to a battlefield?

And this wasn’t even the end of it.

When Enkrid heard the rest of Crang’s plans, they were more absurd than the Iron Wall incident itself.

Obviously, no one was supposed to know the king had come here.

This isn’t normal.

In such a situation, the most sane thing to do—was stop thinking.

Enkrid’s past connection made Andrew one of only five people who knew Crang was here as both his escort and confidant.

Only Duke Octo, who’d fainted from stress, the Royal Guard Captain, Marquis Baisar, and Marcus Baisar knew of Crang’s visit.

Normally, the guard captain should’ve been here, but—

“If you leave too, it’ll be clear the king’s not in the palace. Just keep me safe, quietly.”

So Crang convinced Andrew to go instead. No more thinking—just follow orders.

During the day, Andrew had even sparred with Enkrid for old times’ sake and congratulated him on becoming a knight.

Now it was time to fulfill his duty as both noble and the king’s closest aide.

Crang had two reasons for coming.

One—to initiate peace negotiations with Azpen.

Two—to beg for increased taxes.

“I can’t exactly go on record demanding money from the Border Guard after they fulfilled their duty.”

So he wanted them to voluntarily increase the taxes sent to the capital.

“Still, Your Majesty didn’t have to come in person.”

Naturally, Enkrid wasn’t the only one present.

Crys, the man responsible for external affairs, stood behind him.

“If I show up in person, maybe you’ll all be moved by my sincerity and cry or something.”

“I’ve been emotionally dry for ages.”

“You one of those sand-types?”

A popular trend had swept the continent—personality classification. People who were emotionally rich were called “moist soil,” while cold rationalists were dubbed “dry sand.”

“Yes. Pure sand.”

Crys didn’t back down—but in the end, he agreed to the tax.

Unless Enkrid suddenly claimed kingship or tried to annex Azpen, maintaining a good relationship with Nauril was essential.

After the civil war, trade routes had frayed and the treasury was drying up. Helping them now made sense—he just didn’t want to do it for free.

“Ever heard of a salon?”

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Kraiss had used a public matter for personal gain. He explained the function and usefulness of the salon and asked them to drop by once he started the operation himself.

“Anytime.”

Crang smiled faintly. If offering up his own body could help fill the national treasury, there was nothing he wouldn’t do.

He might even strip naked and dance.

“So you’re going to Azpen? Planning to start an all-out war again?”

Even the barbarian Rem, who had quickly caught on, interjected bluntly, and Crang answered with a face that held not even a hair’s breadth of concern.

“No.”

“Then?”

Enkrid asked back.

“I told him to come out.”

“Who?”

“The king of Azpen.”

“You tell him to come out and he will?”

“What if he doesn’t?”

Crang ended with a smile and a question.

It didn’t seem like he had thought it through deeply, but even if the king of Azpen rejected Crang’s request, it would still stir trouble.

Above all, one could ask—what good could come of doing something like this? Crang also understood that the process might look a little shady.

But he was more focused on results than process. In other words, he was calculating the aftereffects of what was unfolding now.

Bringing down Azpen publicly? Organizing an army from this point forward to charge in, burn the cities, and loot everything?

‘Even if I could, I won’t.’

If they were going to do it, the Border Guard would have to be deployed, and such an act could cause war to spread across the continent like wildfire.

Even without that, wiping out a country was no easy feat.

Then what—take hostages and turn them into a vassal state?

The people of Azpen were proud; they wouldn’t collapse so easily.

‘Wouldn’t sparks of rebellion break out everywhere?’

Some nobles might side with them, but others wouldn’t.

Running a stable nation would be out of the question.

The problem was that Naurillia simply didn’t have the resources for such things right now.

They could still suppress with force.

Ordinarily, that wouldn’t have been possible, but with Enkrid and the Mad Squad, it had become viable.

But fully subduing Azpen was a different matter altogether.

If they were truly prepared, they might consider swallowing a neighboring nation, but to Crang, that wasn’t a good idea. Now was a time to seek stability.

‘The best outcome would be if the king of Azpen just took the hint.’

And not just respond, but move in a way that perfectly aligned with their goals—meaning, they’d have to meet at least once.

Whether that ended in threats or negotiations.

So Crang was making the move himself to speak with Azpen in secret.

In politics, nothing beat feigning ignorance on the surface while pulling strings behind the scenes. Nothing.

So he sent an envoy to Azpen, proposing a secret meeting.

What if it was a trap?

Then it would be a disaster—not for Crang, but for Azpen.

If Crang even slightly changed his mind, Azpen might disappear from the map altogether.

Of course, there was a risk in going personally, but if possible, this way was better. That was Crang’s judgment.

‘If it goes wrong, I’ll just kill the king and walk away.’

He wouldn’t take useless lives. But the king had responsibilities just by sitting on that throne.

The crown bore duties. The throne bore accountability.

It’s a common saying aimed at kings.

So the king of Azpen couldn’t complain about dying just for being in that seat.

The blame for defeat, for the deaths of knights—follow the trail upward and it all lands on the king.

That was Crang’s belief—but living by one’s own convictions was what it meant to be human.

Crang was no different.

If the king of Azpen died, the nation would surely be plunged into civil war.

Even if the two great houses, Hurrier and Eckins, joined forces to install a puppet king, the chaos would remain. It would be a time of upheaval.

If he could be reasoned with, that wouldn’t happen.

It was to be a secret meeting, but it was also one held under Crang’s name—he couldn’t ignore the weight of such a promise.

In any case, Crang was aiming for all of this.

A bold move, audacity, and a direct meeting with the king of Azpen.

The rewards from that could be considerable.

‘Preferably, it’ll all be settled with words.’

If civil war broke out in Azpen and a bunch of idiots decided to charge in blindly, it would mean immediate war, and that would cost them allies.

Of course, if necessary, they’d fight. If necessary, they’d bleed. But there was no need to do that now—and certainly no reason to fall victim to the dying screams of a collapsing nation.

Crang didn’t share every bit of his thinking.

Enkrid probably wasn’t that interested anyway.

So he just stated his intent, short and direct.

“I want to see his damn face. See what kind of bastard keeps picking a fight.”

As far as reasons for a peace negotiation went, it was crude—but Enkrid accepted it.

He knew Crang never made a move without thinking it through.

Thus, three wildcats were assembled.

Shinar, Jaxon, and Enkrid.

To prevent any assassination attempts or tricks, Jaxon and Shinar would come along.

And Enkrid—the hero of the current battlefield.

This was also a request from the king of Azpen himself.

“If the one who stopped the army at the end of the battle comes, I will appear.”

That was the gist of the message they received.

As coachman, Andrew Gardner joined them.

There was no need for Rem or anyone else to tag along.

Azpen’s side would only send five people, including the king.

The core of this operation was simple.

Go secretly. Meet secretly.

“Then.”

After riding in the carriage for a while, the party left the Cross Guard behind in the west and traveled further.

They passed traces of where the army had stayed, killed a few monsters and beasts in the night, and eventually saw a distant light. It was the meeting place.

Enkrid, for the first time, found himself curious about the king of Azpen.

Just how much did this man love war, that he kept charging in like this?