Chapter 126: Chapter 280 - The Black Blade Excels in Politics (2)
Why must Marcus heed the summons from the central government?
"Those damn noble brats. This is when they should shield me and act as my support, but instead, they've turned me into a scapegoat. Political rats, all of them."
These words came directly from Marcus.
For a brief moment, Enkrid wondered if Marcus was berating himself, but it wasn't the time to bring that up.
"Some of the Border Guard's activities—raising warhorses and training archers beyond the border—could be interpreted by the central government as signs of rebellion. Why concentrate power in the North, especially wile having a noble family of such prominence at the helm?"
"A family of prominence?"
"My family."
Enkrid didn't bother asking about the name of the family.
The point was clear.
Marcus intended to restructure the North with the Border Guard as its backbone.
But to the central government, it looked like they were consolidating power for some ulterior motive.
When Marcus answered, "To govern the North effectively,"
The reply came swiftly: "Doesn't seem like it. Come to the capital, and let's talk this out. Besides, isn't your family supposed to be a protector of the capital? Come back. We'll even make you a central official."
"And if I refuse?"
"What? Refusal means you're definitely planning rebellion. Is that what you're up to?"
"I told you, it's not rebellion."
"Then come to the capital. Let's talk. Don't antagonize the neighboring territories. If it's just defense, they won't bother you."
"If I leave, they'll attack. Let me finish handling this first."
"So it is rebellion. You're a traitor, aren't you?"
"No, it's not!"
"Then come."
Stripped of any flowery language, titles, or pleasantries, this was essentially the exchange that had taken place.
Marcus resisted, but it was futile.
He was summoned back to the capital.
"This isn't the end. There's bound to be some band of rogues orchestrating things behind the scenes."
Such were the words of Marcus, a natural-born politician.
But why did he bother to seek Enkrid out just to share all this?
Before Enkrid could voice his doubts, Marcus spoke first.
Straightening from the pillar he had been leaning on, he stood upright, like a soldier offering a salute.
At that moment, it seemed as though Marcus absorbed the surrounding air. He steadied his breathing.
"Help Graham defend the territory."
It wasn't a command. To Enkrid's ears, it sounded like a plea.
"Yes," he replied.
Satisfied, Marcus exhaled wearily before muttering,
"...My worries were pointless."
"Pardon?"
"Nothing."
Marcus turned away. On his way to this point, Marcus had wrestled with several concerns.
Would Enkrid stay to protect the territory until the end? Should Marcus abandon the place altogether and summon Enkrid to the capital instead? Or would Enkrid simply follow his own path?
"Damn those bureaucratic rats of the capital."
Marcus felt an overwhelming urge to curse the rotten nobles and officials yet again.
He cursed them often, but now, he wanted to put holes in their foreheads.
He even entertained the idea of hiring a legendary assassin—someone infamous enough to be mentioned in history books.
A killer nicknamed "Red Dot," known for leaving a single crimson mark on the foreheads of his targets.
Or was it just "Red Spot"?
Regardless, Marcus wanted to sever the rot and cut them down.
"Fine. I'll go."
But he wasn't planning to behave obediently.
He vowed to track down and crush every fool who had been manipulated by the Black Blade.
However, for that to happen, this place needed to remain intact. The enemy was clearly targeting the Border Guard.
So, what could Marcus do?
"What else? Stick to what I do best."
Leave the fighting to those who excel at it, and focus on what he was good at.
Before leaving, Marcus resolved to write a few more letters.
He needed to prepare for every possible outcome.
Amid these preparations, his thoughts turned to the biggest wildcard—Enkrid.
"Will he stay?"
Half out of doubt and half as a means of persuasion, Marcus had sought him out, but the answer came far too easily.
Enkrid agreed without hesitation. His response was neither deceitful nor overly patriotic, but Marcus knew Enkrid would defend this place.
That was simply the kind of man Enkrid was.
Though Marcus couldn't fathom the flames burning in Enkrid's heart, they were undeniably there—burning quietly, without revealing themselves.
If Enkrid had truly desired knighthood, he would have long since gone to the central kingdom or the royal court to join a knightly order.
Even though he possessed "Will," why did he remain here?
The question resurfaced in Marcus's mind.
"What kind of knight do you want to be?"
Next time, he thought, he would ask.
For now, he felt reassured. The weight on his chest eased, as though he had untangled a stubborn knot.
Though he couldn't predict everything or understand all the reasons behind it...
"They won't take us down easily."
It was strange. No matter how hard Graham or the First Company Commander fought, none of it gave Marcus as much confidence as a single word from Enkrid.
"Because of the difference in skill?"
Now, it was clear. Enkrid had become a formidable swordsman, walking the path of knighthood. He had even awakened to "Will."
Was that the reason?
No, it wasn't. Marcus instinctively knew.
When he returned to his office, he found Graham, the First Company Commander, waiting for him.
"I'm sorry. A proper appointment ceremony won't be possible, and more importantly, I have no idea what the battalion commander at the Green Pearl garrison is thinking. If even he has been swayed, things will become very difficult."
"Do not worry. I will not lose to the likes of the Black Blade."
Graham was a remarkable soldier, a great man in his own right.
Yet, Marcus couldn't help but think, Why does a sentence from him inspire less confidence than a mere word from Enkrid?
Suppressing his inner doubts, Marcus patted Graham on the shoulder.
The situation was deteriorating rapidly, and Marcus had to leave. The thought stirred a peculiar sense of determination.
He reaffirmed his resolve. He would see to it that every neck involved in this treachery was severed.
"Heretics have risen to power south of Martai!"
Such rumors spread among merchants and travelers passing through the territory.
It was said that a bishop of the heretical sect had appeared in the South, leading hordes of monstrous beasts.
The so-called "Wolf Bishop," a prominent figure within the sect, was rumored to have mobilized his forces.
Of course, it wasn't just a rumor.
"As winter approaches, I shall personally proclaim this place a holy sanctuary for those shivering in hunger and cold."
The bishop's proclamation had been written on paper and distributed widely, eventually reaching the Border Guard.
"What the... are they insane?"
Some of the soldiers clicked their tongues upon reading it.
The proclamation declared Martai and the surrounding Border Guard area as sacred grounds of the heretics.
The unspoken message: vacate the area or face total annihilation.
This posed a significant problem.
After Marcus departed, the First Company Commander, now acting lord and battalion commander, found himself drenched in cold sweat before the approaching wave of crises.
Why had the heretics suddenly appeared? The situation was dire. The troops were already stretched thin, and now the Black Blade and heretics were attacking from different directions.
"Did Marcus flee in fear?"
Viscount Tarnin's rant was as fiery as ever, and he subtly pushed his troops forward.
The scent of war began to waft through the air.
"We must send envoys to Count Molsan for reinforcements."
Graham immediately took action.
A high-ranking noble from one of the most influential families in the region happened to be visiting his territory. Surely, he would provide support.
Subtly, Graham also mentioned that the count's two sons were present in the area.
The response came swiftly:
"Heretics are rising within the count's lands as well, and the monsters are more numerous this winter. Handle it yourself."
Bang!
The First Company Commander struck the wall with his fist.
The wall, made of solid bricks, didn't break, but the pain shot through his nerves from his fingertips.
"Dammit! Your land is next in line after ours!"
Surely, Count Molsan couldn't remain indifferent to such a threat.
The Black Blades hiding behind Tarnin were clearly involved.
No, at this point, they weren't even trying to hide.
Some mercenaries with unmistakable ties to the Black Blade had shown their faces openly.
This was a declaration of intent.
While the heretics advanced from the south to check Martai, the two groups seemed to have formed some kind of non-aggression pact, refraining from encroaching on each other's territories.
It looked as though they were colluding.
If it looked that way, it likely was.
Would the two groups stop at occupying the Border Guard and call it a day?
Would they pat their bellies in satisfaction and disband?
Not a chance. If they succeeded, they would rampage even further.
Graham sent messages to the capital via ravens and pigeons.
No reply came.
Instead, other news arrived.
"Battalion Commander."
Marcus had apologized earlier, saying he regretted leaving such burdens to Graham.
Though there had been no formal ceremony, Graham had intended to solidify his position as battalion commander through this crisis.
But now, Marcus's parting words resurfaced in his mind.
"If things seem truly hopeless, retreat when the time is right."
Was this that moment?
The news that reached him drove the new commander further into despair. Graham's expression darkened.
"Aspen has made its move."
There was a former reserve battalion commander stationed in the Green Pearl plains.
He had been training cavalry, opening new farmlands, and establishing villages.
Prioritizing fortification, he built barracks and palisades, expanding from villages to territories, turning the garrison into fully Aspen-controlled land.
Now, a messenger from Green Pearl arrived with grim news.
Aspen had mobilized its forces, broken its promises, and crossed the border.
It was an invasion.
Aspen, once defeated, was not the sort to sit quietly on the sidelines.
But why now?
This was an issue that required central support to resolve. Border Guard alone could never handle it.
Help would eventually come. Aspen's movement guaranteed that.
However:
"Of course, it only matters if we're alive by then."
Having just been appointed battalion commander, Graham wanted nothing more than to flee.
The Black Blade's schemes were cutting Border Guard to pieces.
They had ousted Marcus, summoned the cultists, and provoked Aspen into action.
The sky was dark. Heavy clouds blocked the sun even during the day.
A figurative shadow loomed over the territory as well.
***
"So, what are you going to do about this?"
A Black Blade officer chuckled to himself, his laughter echoing in solitude. He took a swig of strong liquor, savoring the satisfaction.
Dared to cross us?
They had used their connections and poured out gold coins.
And this was the result.
Viscount Tarnin and the Black Blade army.
To the south of Martai, the cultist forces.
To the east, beyond the Green Pearl plains where the Border Guard stood their ground, Aspen's aggression.
So, what will you do now?
News of calamity closing in from all sides began to slowly cut off merchants' travel to the territory.
"They say war's coming."
"I heard cultists are invading."
"No, no, it's not that. Word is, the forces stationed at Green Pearl have turned against them. They're saying, why make someone else the leader of the Border Guard when they have their own?"
"I heard the central government's turned their back on this place, abandoning it."
"Not just that. Even Count Molsan seems to have washed his hands of it."
How long until the Border Guard falls?
For Enkrid, such rumors were easy to dismiss.
But for some, it was impossible to ignore.
The newly appointed battalion commander, Graham, felt his throat tightening.
It was as if someone had pressed a blade against his neck.
Holding a military meeting to block Viscount Tarnin left their rear vulnerable.
When they sent a messenger to the Green Pearl battalion, the reply they received only worsened their predicament.
"The enemy forces are too many. If you don't want your soldiers wiped out, you must send reinforcements."
Reinforcements? What reinforcements?
They were short on manpower here, to the point of wanting to raise a makeshift army immediately.
His scruffy beard and bloodshot eyes mirrored his despair.
"Marcus, you bastard."
In the end, Graham cursed Marcus.
What joy was there in becoming both battalion commander and lord of this mess?
As the leader of the territory teetered on the edge of panic, someone in Enkrid's unit began to display similar behavior.
"Commander, commander, isn't it time we ran away?"
What nonsense was this?
"Did you swear loyalty to the queen or anything? You didn't, did you? Then how are we supposed to stop the cultists, the Black Blade, and Aspen all at once?"
A departure from their usual self.
Enkrid studied Krais for a moment.
His leg trembled, his nails scraped against his teeth before he spat in frustration and blinked repeatedly.
Even now, Krais blinked three or four times as he looked at Enkrid, his trembling pupils betraying his unease.
Not in his right mind.
Enkrid didn't presume to know every detail of his unit members' pasts or understand their personalities perfectly.
But there were a few things he did know.
Rem hated the cold, and Ragna was a lazy navigator.
Jaxen had many secrets and could be chilling at times, but his intentions were unclear.
And Krais had his quirks.
This wide-eyed one hadn't had an easy life.
Then again, who among them had lived peacefully?
Those who had wouldn't have ended up here.
This unit wasn't called a pack of troublemakers for nothing.
Krais was one of those troublemakers.
"It's hopeless."
Krais muttered, listing the events to come.
"Even if we manage to hold off the Black Blade forces storming the walls, what about the cultists attacking from below? That Wolf Bishop is quite famous. I even did some digging myself."
His complexion was pale, devoid of any attempt at a bitter smile, as he spoke.
"He leads hundreds of wolf beasts. He's even got a bounty on his head. What does that tell you? It means the kingdom's abandoned this place. Whatever they're gaining in return, they've already collected it. So this land has been discarded by the queen. Look, Aspen has lined up their forces blatantly, but there's not a single reinforcement here. At the very least, the knight order should have sent a detachment. But they haven't. What does that tell you? Politics. Maybe they struck a deal to give up Green Pearl in exchange for something. Or maybe they made a pact with the cultists. At the very least, the Black Blade is..."
The speech was long. Half of it Enkrid understood, the other half he let pass.
He glanced around.
All eyes were on him. And he realized something.
They would follow him, no matter what.
Even if he ordered them to abandon the territory and flee, they would obey.
Rem, Ragna, Audin, Jaxen, Dunbakel, Teresa, and the anxiety-ridden Krais.
Even the stealthy leopard that had slipped in unnoticed.
Eight others, and himself.
A total of nine. A force originally deemed dispensable.
But now?
The last battle had been won easily because Marcus had concealed this unit's true capabilities.
Krais' analysis matched Enkrid's judgment.
So what happens if they leave now?
What else but utter ruin?
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