Eternally Regressing Knight
Chapter 334 - 334 - What Was Inside His Head?
Chapter 334 - What Was Inside His Head?
Upon waking each morning, Энкрид practiced the
Isolation technique
with Аудин. Afterward, he would train his control over muscle movements, slowly swinging his sword with precise, deliberate effort. This was followed by intense sparring sessions with Рем.
In between these activities, he made sure to eat meals, often snacking on herb pies. His extraordinary level of physical activity required extraordinary sustenance. Eating, resting, and bodily functions took up minimal time; the rest was devoted entirely to relentless training.
Once fully recovered, the first thing he did was destroy his barracks. After that, Энкрид focused on observing and refining himself, continually honing his methods with a scholar's scrutiny.
Whatever Крайс had done behind the scenes seemed to work—no one came to bother him anymore. He was grateful enough to declare he wouldn't even take the Guild's tribute payments.
But when Крайс insisted he meet just one person, Энкрид reluctantly stepped outside the barracks. To his surprise, he encountered a familiar face.
"Did you get even better-looking?"
The casual remark came with a smile. Энкрид recognized the speaker immediately—Леона Rockfreed.
Леона was the leader of a trade guild and someone he'd once spent an entire night talking to, eating herb pies, sipping pumpkin soup, and wandering through the market together. Though the suggestion of becoming friends had seemed fresh and unexpected, it had planted the seeds of genuine camaraderie.
Энкрид greeted her with a steady gaze. "How could I forget someone like you?"
Леона had always been striking. Now, dressed in sleek leather pants, a thick white shirt, and a fur-lined vest, she exuded the confident air of a seasoned merchant. Even her shirt was made of a fabric unfamiliar to Энкрид, which led him to idly consider its potential as gambeson lining. His battle-focused mind found a way to think of combat even now.
Крайс, standing off to the side, muttered, "What part of him looks better?"
Энкрид hadn't shaved, his sweaty hair hung in unkempt strands, and his clothes clung to him like rags. He didn't even smell good.
For Крайс, charisma was all about atmosphere—a blend of scent, demeanor, and attitude, not just good looks. By that standard, Энкрид was far from charming. At best, he looked like someone obsessed with swordplay.
"You should clean up," Крайс said, wrinkling his nose.
"Waste of time," Энкрид replied without turning, his mind replaying a vivid memory.
A night spent in Леона's company. No signals, no physical intimacy, just hours of conversation. Yet from that rest, he had gained something invaluable—a newfound grasp of fluid motion, a clearer understanding of linking footwork and sword swings, and a sense of speed.
It wasn't what he learned that mattered, but how he learned it. The process itself had left an indelible mark.
Now, seeing Леона again, he welcomed her presence.
"You really have changed," Леона remarked, her eyes meeting his.
She wasn't just being polite; as a merchant and a leader, her instincts were sharp. She could see it—his presence had shifted. While her initial comment about his looks had been half a joke, the other half had been genuine. Something about him had grown more defined, more commanding.
"Have I gained more wrinkles?" Энкрид quipped with a faint smile.
"Trying to tease me, are you?" she shot back with a grin.
Their exchange was easy and natural. Somewhere nearby, Крайс signaled to the soldiers, who quickly set up a table and chairs.
"You can't just stand around chatting all day; you're busy, after all," Крайс said, mimicking a sword swing as if to emphasize how training consumed Энкрид's life.
Леона chuckled. She knew this side of him well—during her previous time in Border Guard, she had even watched some of his grueling sparring sessions.
Энкрид glanced at Крайс. The big-eyed man always had an ulterior motive. Still, Энкрид sat down, recognizing that Крайс's insistence carried purpose.
Леона, too, sat without hesitation, her eyes never leaving Энкрид. Behind her stood Mathis, her familiar bodyguard, and another man—one Энкрид didn't know.
The stranger was striking, with golden hair and piercing blue eyes, a figure who radiated charm and carried himself with effortless poise. Even Крайс had to admit, this man knew how to command an atmosphere. Standing behind Леона, he offered a soft smile and an air of quiet confidence.
"What brings you here?"
"Would you believe me if I said I came to visit a friend?"
"Not a chance."
"Well, you're right. It's about guild matters. But, seeing a friend along the way is a nice bonus, isn't it?"
Леона smiled as she spoke, and Энкрид returned her smile. It wasn't a bad meeting, though the tea left much to be desired.
The tea served was notoriously awful—a brew specifically reserved for unwanted visitors, meant to signal them to drink quickly and leave. And they served this here?
"On purpose?" Энкрид thought. Of course, it was deliberate. Крайс' intent was written all over it. Even the way he avoided eye contact with feigned innocence had an oddly endearing audacity.
Энкрид chose to focus on Леона instead. They exchanged a few casual words about trade.
"It's fascinating to see how famous you've become. I knew this would happen. I should've roped you into the guild back then," Леона teased.
"Does a guild need swordsmen that often?"
"Of course. We're not a stationary guild, after all."
Her explanation carried an interesting tidbit. She elaborated that guilds generally fell into two categories: stationary and itinerant. While many guilds combined aspects of both, the Rockfreed Guild leaned heavily toward being itinerant, which brought its own set of challenges.
Since its founding, they'd primarily been a nomadic guild, largely because they had no connections to rely on for a fixed base. It wasn't so much a lack of resources as it was a lack of mutually beneficial relationships.
Even if connections existed, potential allies likely attempted to swallow the guild whole or betrayed them outright. This harsh reality shaped the Rocfried Guild's current status.
Operating without a home base meant they had less influence in any specific region, which posed significant limitations. Local partnerships were often necessary to secure profits, and the guild had to rely on routes like the Rockfreed Trade Road, partnerships with groups like the Glacier Rangers, the Black Leather Guild, and the Shepherds of the Wasteland.
Few guilds dared to deal with such entities, making Rockfreed's position unique.
But could this itinerant model persist?
No, not indefinitely. Stability required a home base, particularly in uncertain times like these.
So, where should they establish themselves?
"A place undergoing rapid change."
An area ripe with opportunities.
Given the kingdom's unstable political climate and rising prominence of certain cities, somewhere like the Border Guard was an ideal candidate.
Энкрид quickly pieced this together, though he refrained from saying it aloud. Леона, too, avoided discussing it directly.
If Крайс had summoned them to gain leverage in negotiations, it would have been a mistake. This was a meeting between friends.
"Are you married?" Леона asked suddenly.
"No, I'm not."
"And that fairy of yours?"
Леона leaned in with a mischievous whisper.
"She often jokes about being my fiancée."
"Ugh, how boring."
"What about you?"
"I'm married to the guild, you could say."
"Is that so?"
"No, it's a lie. I do have a fiancé, but I'm not sure about him yet. It's more of a political match, and if other plans work out, I might call it off."
"Noted. So, you're not here to seduce me, then?"
"Of course not! I don't go back once I'm rejected. You missed your chance, and now you'll just have to live with the regret."
"Fine, I'll regret it occasionally."
"Regret should be constant and deeply painful."
"I'm too busy."
"Swinging your sword all the time?"
"Exactly."
Their banter was light and playful, leaving both of them chuckling. For a brief moment, Энкрид felt like a carefree child again.
Леона had a way of putting people at ease, whether it was a talent honed as a merchant or genuine empathy didn't matter. What mattered was that the moment was pleasant.
Their conversation was interrupted when Крайс chimed in abruptly.
"A political marriage? That's ridiculous!"
Here? Now?
"Exactly," Леона agreed. "I said I didn't want it, didn't I?"
"Exactly my point. Isn't that right, Commander?"
"...About what?"
Крайс nudged Энкрид's foot and then, as if his throat were parched, took a sip of the horrid tea he had vowed never to drink again.
Энкрид understood the situation well enough.
"A relationship built on mutual need," he thought.
Such was the nature of the connection between Крайс and Леона. The bad tea wasn't a coincidence; it was a message. This was a business meeting, plain and simple.
Rocfried needed a base of operations.
The Border Guard needed a shield against external troubles.
Their needs aligned perfectly.
Энкрид smirked inwardly. He could now see exactly why Крайс had dragged him into this.
"Trying to use charm and friendship, huh?"
It was clear as day. The scheme was all too obvious.
"Your friend is right here, and you're going to pull this kind of thing?"
Typical Крайс, always using underhanded tactics when it suited him. And there was only one reason he'd act like this.
"How much were you promised?" Энкрид asked flatly.
There was no doubt the lord of this land had made some sort of deal with him. Энкрид's sharp insight hit the mark. Yet Крайс remained unfazed. When money was involved, Крайс transformed into a stellar actor, a shrewd tactician, and an exceptionally smooth talker.
"Excuse me? What are you implying?"
"You invited someone under the guise of friendship."
If you were going to leverage someone's friendship, you'd better be prepared to account for the consequences. Энкрид wasn't just any guest here; he was also Леона's friend.
"I think you're mistaken..." Крайс began, but Леона interjected.
"Oh, don't worry about it. Business should be clean and straightforward."
Her words subtly reinforced her stance: she wouldn't fall for cheap tricks, nor would she stoop to using them herself.
"I'll be leaving now," Энкрид announced, rising from his seat.
There was nothing more for him to do here.
"See you next time," Леона said with a cheerful smile, raising her hand in a casual goodbye.
Энкрид took her hand, brushed his lips lightly across the back of it, and turned to leave. His actions were the epitome of decorum—something he had picked up over the years, even as a mercenary. Once, he had made a fair living escorting noblewomen to parties, and the etiquette had stuck with him.
"Salons really are his element," Крайс muttered under his breath as he watched.
Before Энкрид could take another step, someone else approached.
"You, there."
It was Mathis.
Despite his attempt to maintain composure, his astonishment was evident. The rumors he'd heard about Энкрид had been difficult to believe. But seeing him in person...
Mathis had met Энкрид before, but the man standing before him now exuded a confidence and presence that was unmistakable. This wasn't mere bravado; it was the aura of a true master.
"Would you spar with me?" Mathis asked.
Энкрид, still armed from his earlier training, nodded. His three swords—his gladius, a silver-edged longsword, and the fiery blade called Spark—rested at his waist.
"Anytime," he replied simply.
Леона made no move to stop them. She understood Mathis well enough to know that something had stirred him deeply.
Ting.
Their blades met in a cautious exchange, each warrior gauging the other's strength. Three times their swords clashed lightly, a mutual understanding to warm up.
Then, Mathis struck in earnest.
His attack was swift, calculated—a move worthy of a recognized master in the city.
"City-level expert? What nonsense. A blade cuts all the same," Рем had once scoffed. But even he would have acknowledged Mathis's skill.
Yet, the moment their swords met, Mathis realized Энкрид's movements weren't any slower than his own.
He pressed down harder, attempting to overpower his opponent's blade with his technique. But Энкрид's response was quicker.
With a seamless motion, Энкрид deflected Mathis's blade and slipped inside his guard.
It was a masterful maneuver—part parry, part counterattack—executed with such fluidity it resembled the strike of a snake. For a brief moment, Mathis thought the blade might actually bend as it darted toward him.
He stopped, staring at the silver edge hovering just shy of his throat.
No effort wasted. No room for doubt.
"Impressive," Mathis admitted, though the admission carried a heavy dose of resignation.
Compared to the last time he'd seen Энкрид, this felt like facing an entirely different person. The gap in skill was undeniable, and Mathis knew that even at his best, the outcome wouldn't have changed.
"Enough," Энкрид said curtly, sheathing his blade.
He turned away without another word, confident that Mathis would rise again on his own. Mathis wasn't a knight but a warrior of the merchant band. He would fulfill his duties without needing further encouragement.
Behind him, Крайс began discussing terms with the merchants.
"Now that everything's sorted, here's what Border Guard can offer, and here's what we need from you."
The whole charade had been Крайс's idea from the start. By involving Энкрид, he had forced both parties to lay their cards on the table.
It was cunning, but also fair in its own way. Neither Леона nor the merchants could afford to lose face by breaking trust in front of a mutual friend.
"His scheming really is second to none," Энкрид thought as he walked away.
Within a month, the Rockfreed Merchant Company had established a foothold in Border Guard. Despite resistance from local traders, they navigated the challenges with remarkable efficiency, negotiating compromises where necessary and asserting dominance where they could.
During that time, Энкрид trained relentlessly.
Day after day, he practiced as if stuck in an endless cycle. Unlike most, he could endure the monotony of repetition without complaint.
But this time, there was a difference—he could feel himself improving.
It wasn't just training for the sake of it. The progress was real.
"Enjoying yourself?" Рем asked during one of their sparring sessions.
"Of course," Энкрид replied with a grin.
If he didn't enjoy it, how could he keep going like this?
Рем couldn't help but agree.
Their commander was truly mad.
Just moments ago, Энкрид had narrowly avoided a fatal blow from Рем's axe. And yet, here he was, laughing it off as though it was all part of the fun.
The boatman, who had been watching from the sidelines, finally spoke up.
"What on earth is inside that head of yours?"
It was a rhetorical question, of course.
After all, what else could occupy the mind of a man who spent an entire month doing nothing but swinging his sword?

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