Eternally Regressing Knight
Chapter 356 - Andrew's Outburst
The six nobles said nothing to acknowledge Krang or Enkrid's presence. They acted as if they were invisible.
"Stay quiet. Do not speak unless asked. Do not lift your head or meet Her Majesty's gaze. When addressed, answer with sincerity. If summoned, step forward, kneel on one knee, and respond."
These instructions were given by Baron Bentra, who approached Enkrid. Despite the faint stench surrounding the baron, Enkrid masked his reaction and nodded in understanding.
For most, the odor would go unnoticed unless they were beastkin or trained in sensory arts. Still, it lingered, faint but unpleasant.
Bentra's solitary initiative, while the others remained silent, painted him as someone relegated to unsavory tasks. Enkrid, curious, asked, "Are you being ostracized?"
Was the baron being singled out for harsh duties by the other nobles? If so, perhaps Bentra could take a page from Jaxen's playbook and dangle some rewards as leverage.
The baron's composure was remarkable, unfazed even by the probing question.
It seemed Count Molsan had chosen well; Bentra was clearly a man of inner strength. His muscular arms, visible beneath his loose sleeves, betrayed years of swordsmanship. His hands, callused and scarred, told stories of countless battles, much like Enkrid's own.
"Mind your tongue," Bentra warned, his voice firm but without malice. Enkrid shrugged indifferently.
This exchange, unusual as it was, caught the attention of two nobles who turned to glance at them. Still, no one spoke to either of them.
As time passed, muted conversations began among the nobles. They whispered, hands covering their mouths as they leaned into one another.
They likely thought they were out of earshot, but Enkrid, honing his sensory arts, picked up fragments of their discussion.
"Lowly scum."
"Rumor has it he's as skilled as a knight apprentice."
"Did the royal bastard bring him here as a token of gratitude? For escorting him safely?"
"That face of his might serve well under a noblewoman's skirt, but hardly anywhere else."
If Rem had heard such words, he might have cleaved a few skulls with his axe on the spot. His disdain for these sorts of pompous nobles was no secret.
Enkrid, however, remained unbothered. This wasn't his first brush with such contempt, and it likely wouldn't be his last. Words were wind, easily ignored.
Glancing to his side, he noticed Krang standing still, his stance disciplined, though his expression betrayed a casual air—as if he were lounging with arms crossed and a leg propped up.
Moments later, the queen arrived.
"Her Majesty, the Queen!"
Of course, she did not enter alone. Her entourage and royal guards accompanied her, positioning themselves by the entrance and at the far side of the audience chamber.
Enkrid's mind briefly fixated on the royal guards' gilded weapons—the golden-tipped spears and helmets. An aesthetic choice? No, probably a display of royal prestige.
The queen's appearance dispelled his fleeting thoughts. She wasn't the stern and commanding figure he had anticipated but exuded warmth and an air of approachable charm. Her demeanor reminded Enkrid of an older barmaid from his childhood, one who had been kind to him.
The stark contrast between their statuses—the barmaid serving ales and the queen ruling a nation—didn't diminish the peculiar familiarity he felt.
"Lower your head," Bentra admonished quietly.
Should he?
"Let him be," the queen interjected, stopping Bentra.
The queen studied Enkrid's face for a moment before offering a genuine compliment. "A pleasing visage."
It wasn't a seductive remark, merely an appreciation of his appearance.
Enkrid, however, found himself at a loss for words. What could he say in response? Surely not,
"Your Majesty, you are quite generous yourself."
The queen, indeed, had a fuller figure and bore a tiara signifying her royal authority. Beside her stood a familiar figure—or rather, a familiar frog.
Croak.
The frog puffed its cheeks briefly. That was likely its way of smiling.
Enkrid returned the silent greeting with a glance. Luagarne, the frog who had guided him during the Nameless Sword Ceremony and trained him in its arts, stood nearby.
"Aren't you aware of proper etiquette?" a noble scoffed.
Their words revealed much about the state of the queen's authority. If even a minor noble dared to criticize someone under her direct permission, her influence was clearly undermined.
The queen seemed indifferent to the insult, her focus shifting to Krang. "I assume we're here to verify the royal lineage? State your name."
The question was directed at Crang, and Enkrid found himself momentarily sidelined.
Krang stepped forward confidently, unaffected by the gaze of the disdainful noble who had shifted their hostility from Enkrid to him.
The noble lacked resolve; their venomous glare faltered as Krang approached the queen.
Crang's steps were measured, neither hurried nor sluggish, exuding poise. Despite his tattered travel attire and unkempt hair, he carried himself with the dignity and presence of a monarch.
"Kryanaht Angius Naurilius, present."
His voice reverberated through the chamber, resonating off the walls and stirring a palpable tension in the room.
"Come closer," the queen instructed.
An elderly woman in an ornate robe emerged from behind the queen, taking a pendant from Crang and comparing it to another in her hand.
"Indeed."
Afterward, a brief spell was cast to confirm Crang's bloodline. Enkrid simply watched.
"It is true. You are of my bloodline. By the Queen's decree, I acknowledge you. If there are objections, let the ministers speak now."
The nobles remained silent, though their eyes spoke volumes:
"As if we didn't already know he was royal blood."
"The late king's indulgences brought this upon us."
They already knew everything. Sending assassins after Krang was proof enough. No one questioned his legitimacy, especially with the royal pendant and a mage's verification.
It felt like watching a scripted play.
The Queen, citing pressing duties, soon excused herself. The ministers dispersed just as quickly.
Somehow, the last to leave the audience chamber were Krang and Enkrid.
The nobles ignored them entirely, not sparing a glance as they exited. Those who previously questioned Krang's conduct had nothing more to say.
As they left, Enkrid finally spoke, his tone pondering:
"Odd atmosphere, don't you think?"
The nobles seemed entirely uninterested. A new heir was declared, and royal authority displayed, yet there was no sign of curiosity or engagement from them.
"The nobles who support me aren't here. Only those who'd prefer I were dead remain."
Understanding the implication, Enkrid asked,
"Because they expect you to die soon?"
"Pragmatic, aren't they?" Krang chuckled dryly.
Was it really appropriate to laugh at such a grim reality? His previous composure had faded, replaced by mischief.
Enkrid's concern was evident as he advised,
"Don't get too close to Rem."
"I've said it before—you're the craziest of us all."
"I mean it. Don't engage with Rem more than necessary."
It was clear—Krang had already been influenced.
Outside the chamber, a familiar voice called out:
"Enki!"
It was the Frog, Luagarne.
"Have you been well?"
The Frog greeted him with a vertical chopping motion of her hand. Enkrid instinctively raised his hand to block, recognizing the feint.
The downward chop was a distraction; the real move was in her feet, sliding smoothly across the thick carpet toward him. It was a calculated ploy to close the gap.
The Capturing Blade activated reflexively.
Her movements were fluid, her slippery hands darting and twisting to jab and strike, yet Enkrid deflected each one with precision.
Her skin's slickness made it easier to redirect the attacks. But there was no killing intent—this was a playful contest of skill.
The two royal guards watching exchanged glances, their interest piqued. What they witnessed was a high-level exchange, even if it was just a game.
"You've improved. I'd lose if we fought seriously now," Lagarne admitted, withdrawing her hand. Her cheeks puffed out in a playful gesture as she spoke.
It was true. If he had improved this much, it was no wonder he had crushed the skulls of those cultist invaders. The memory pleased her, and her cheeks puffed twice more.
"Is this proper conduct in the presence of a prince?" Enkrid asked.
"Humans don't impose manners on Frogs," she replied nonchalantly.
"I agree," Krang added. Then he turned to Enkrid.
"You two know each other?"
"She's the Frog who came to Border Guard before."
Before Enkrid could elaborate, Lagarne interjected, puffing her cheeks again.
"Is that all? Don't downplay it—we trained in swordsmanship together, fought side by side, and even explored ancient ruins! Remember, we almost got trapped there?"
"This sounds like a long story," Krang remarked with perfect timing.
"It is," Lagarne admitted before asking, "By the way, where is everyone else?"
Enkrid nodded, scanning the area. None of his companions were in sight. Could a knight have dragged them all away?
But then again, they wouldn't have gone quietly. His party wasn't known for meek compliance, and they wouldn't have trusted strangers to guide them to a rest area.
As Enkrid pondered, the royal guards watching them seemed perplexed.
Why did this man speak so casually to a prince but defer to a Frog? And why did no one reprimand him for it?
Suddenly, a voice called out, breaking his thoughts.
"I knew you'd come here someday, Commander."
Enkrid turned toward the speaker, recognizing the voice.
"Hmm?"
It was unexpected. He hadn't anticipated meeting another familiar face here. If anyone were to appear, he thought it might be someone with old grudges.
"You."
"Addressing a noble like that? How rude." The man grinned, his tone teasing.
"And yet you're standing before a prince," Krang interjected.
"Your Highness, I trust you've been well?"
"Thanks to you."
That exchange was swift, almost too seamless.
"Let's move somewhere else. I've invited everyone to my estate," the familiar figure offered.
"Andrew," Enkrid said, recognizing him at last.
"Andrew Gardner, а nobleman," the man introduced himself with a smile.
"Well, I am a prince."
"Your Highness, have you always been so fond of jokes?"
Andrew blinked as he spoke. To Enkrid, it appeared that Krang and Andrew were familiar with each other—and that assumption was correct.
Andrew had dreams of reviving his family. Instead of aligning with established factions, he had staked everything on another—Krang.
After parting ways with Enkrid, Andrew had also gone through his own trials, which were adventures in their own right, leading him to where he stood now.
Andrew Gardner was now a baronet, proud and accomplished, with a residence in the capital.
"Impressive," Enkrid remarked in his usual even tone.
"Your face doesn't exactly scream surprise," Andrew replied.
"I really am surprised."
"Then shall we head to Baronet Gardner's residence?"
Luagarne, who had been listening, asked the question before Enkrid could respond, and Andrew answered first.
"Please do. It would surely be better than staying at an inn."
There was no reason to refuse.
"Then I'll see you later. I've got plenty of things to take care of myself," Lua said, waving her stubby fingers in a swirling motion—a human-style farewell. Enkrid returned the gesture.
"What about you, Krang?"
"I'll stay at the palace. A party to celebrate my return is in a few days. I've got preparations to make."
A party? That wasn't quite to Enkrid's taste.
Without waiting for a response, Krang turned and left.
As Enkrid watched Andrew, he realized how much his friend had grown. The faint trace of a beard had darkened, and there was now a scar under his right eye that hadn't been there before.
Apparently, Andrew no longer needed a nanny, as he was alone. Like Enkrid, he had left his weapons behind upon entering the palace, leaving both of them unarmed.
"And Mac?"
"At the estate."
Maybe the former nanny had traded that role for that of a butler.
"Alright, let's go."
Andrew succinctly summarized his journey thus far.
"I risked my life to complete a commission and reclaim my noble status, but ever since then, the political backlash has been relentless. Even now, it feels like I'm on another adventure."
There wasn't much need to delve into the details of those adventures.
Whatever he had been through, Andrew had clearly done well for himself. While his home wasn't a sprawling mansion with gardens, it was a proper residence in the capital—a three-story building.
The first floor housed the reception room and dining area, while the second floor and above were packed with over ten rooms.
The house was spacious and grand.
Upon arrival, Enkrid saw that the rest of his group was already there, including Rem.
"Well, look at this. Andrew really made it big," Rem said, chewing on a snack in the middle of the reception room.
The capital was a hub of commerce, and naturally, its food culture was highly developed—especially when it came to desserts. Rem nodded approvingly as he munched.
"Rem hasn't changed a bit," Andrew commented from behind.
Esther was dozing on a woolen cushion.
The rest of the party had gathered casually in the reception room.
Ragna stood by the window, watching a group of men practicing with wooden staves in the courtyard.
"Retainers?" Enkrid asked.
"Private soldiers aren't allowed in the capital."
"Then?"
"Those are students learning swordsmanship from me."
"From you?"
Hearing this, Rem also turned his head to ask, "What are you teaching them?"
Even Ragna glanced over, curious.
Jaxen said nothing but quietly observed Andrew.
"If you see how much I've improved, you'll be amazed," Andrew replied confidently.
Enkrid nodded. He had no doubt Andrew had improved—he'd always had talent.
"Then I'm sure you have."
Enkrid's voice, however, lacked enthusiasm, which made Andrew smirk.
It was a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, one corner of his lips curling upward.
Though Enkrid had achieved remarkable feats, Andrew wasn't one to be outdone; he'd faced his share of obstacles and triumphed.
"A sparring match?" Andrew proposed.
Enkrid nodded once more.
Of all the remarkable encounters and events—being greeted, invited, and meeting the queen—none pleased him as much as these simple words.
"Are you sure it's alright to cry in front of your students after getting beaten?" Enkrid teased, concerned for his former comrade.
"Shut up and bring it on!" Andrew barked, determination in his voice.
The Capturing Blade
activated reflexively.

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