Chapter 192: Chapter 345 - What Kind of Person Should a King Be?
Chapter 345 - What Kind of Person Should a King Be?
"What kind of person should a king be?"
Marcus's sudden question caught Enkrid off guard.
Without much thought, Enkrid responded as he usually would—straightforward and reflecting the principles he lived by: doing whatever it took to claim what he desired.
"Whoever wants to be one," he replied.
Marcus didn't comment on the answer but instead shifted the topic.
"That's what I thought a few months ago, too."
"And now?"
If not someone who desires it, then who else should take the role?
"May I answer that?"
The voice came from outside the dining hall.
Marcus wasn't alone. Enkrid's gaze shifted toward the door.
"I seem to have unintentionally drawn some attention, Marcus Baisar," the man outside declared loudly.
"It was intentional on my part. I rather enjoy such attention, so don't trouble yourself," Marcus replied, turning slightly to face the direction of the voice.
The figure outside stepped into view, catching everyone's attention.
The lord of the estate didn't recognize him. Krais thought the man looked vaguely familiar, while Enkrid knew exactly who he was.
The man had golden hair and carried himself with a casual, almost relaxed air. He stood outside the doorway, where the guards looked to each other, silently asking if they should let him in.
There weren't any onlookers around. This wasn't a duel or spectacle worth gathering for—it was just a quiet meeting, with some tea shared among a small group. Krais had already dismissed unnecessary personnel, keeping the guards posted for security.
The man gave the guards a faint, almost mischievous smile, as if asking politely to be let in.
The guards hesitated. Should they allow him through or turn him away?
"Let him in," Enkrid said.
The estate's lord didn't object, and Marcus gave no indication of disapproval either. It seemed the man wasn't entirely unfamiliar to them.
The golden-haired man's boots clattered softly against the stone floor as he entered, his attire simple—a plain brown shirt and loose-fitting pants, far from the garb of a noble.
Stopping in front of Enkrid, the man spoke.
"It's been a while."
"Are you here as a noble?" Enkrid asked, standing up and raising his voice slightly.
When they had last met, the man had been a soldier. His question implied curiosity about what had changed since then.
"No need for formalities. I'm just a wanderer now," the man replied casually.
"Still using the same name?"
"Krang," the man said, brushing a hand through his golden hair as he formally introduced himself, extending his hand for a handshake.
A handshake—a gesture rooted in showing mutual trust, proving neither party held a weapon.
Enkrid clasped the offered hand, shook it lightly, and released it.
Only then did Krais remember who the man was.
Krais rarely forgot a face, but it had been years since they had crossed paths, and their interaction back then had been brief. If anything, it was a testament to Krais's sharp memory that he even recalled.
"The field hospital back then?" Krais asked instinctively.
[[T/L] - For anyone not recalling this guy is the blond dude that's been with enkrid in the infirmary at the start of the novel. Look for the 6th chapter of the manhwa, the blonde guy with blue eyes.I don't think it's been outright mentioned but hinted at that he's more than he appeared to be.]
"That's right. You've got quite the memory, soldier," Krang replied, throwing a casual nod toward the estate's lord in acknowledgment.
"Who is this?" Graham asked hesitantly, rising awkwardly to his feet.
Marcus responded in Krang's stead.
"A wanderer, a drifter, and if I may add one more... hmm."
Pausing, Marcus took a sip of tea, only to grimace at the taste. Clearing his throat, he finished his thought.
"A bastard."
Marcus didn't seem inclined to stand, so Graham awkwardly sank back into his seat. The others followed suit, with Krang naturally taking an empty chair.
The lord of the estate didn't catch on, but the mention of bastard made Krais's expression shift briefly, as though something had clicked.
Krang, noticing the subtle reactions, gave everyone a cheerful smile—the same sly yet disarming grin he had worn before.
Though Enkrid noticed a faint scar on Krang's cheek that hadn't been there before, the man's expression remained as amicable as ever.
"This winter has been particularly cold. How are you holding up?"
Krang asked with a casual tone.
Caught off guard by the abrupt question, Enkrid replied.
"When you're rolling through battles, you forget about things like the cold."
"I've heard you had quite a fiery time."
"And it sounds like you had your fair share of warmth as well."
"I've always dreamed of spending winters wrapped in heated furs, rolling around lazily, and enjoying flower-viewing festivals come spring."
Krang spoke with a smile, his tone lighthearted, but Enkrid couldn't help but marvel at him.
A bastard, huh? Whose bastard, though?
Someone willing to use a Baisar family member for diversion—a bastard of a noble house capable of moving such powerful families into position.
"Royalty," Krais stated, arriving at the conclusion aloud.
It seemed Krang had no intention of hiding it. Their conversation had been calculated to offer enough hints for anyone to piece it together.
The mention of winter's chill referred to the battlefields Enkrid had endured, while Krang hinted at equally intense skirmishes fought behind the scenes, if not directly on the battlefield.
Krang simply smiled in response to Krais's observation.
Graham, however, began to question his presence in such a conversation.
"Graham, do you have any fine tea prepared in your study? Let's enjoy a proper cup," Marcus offered, pulling Graham out of his uneasy thoughts.
"Yes, of course. It should suit your taste perfectly," Graham replied.
He had procured an expensive blend, partly out of gratitude toward Marcus for granting him his current position as lord.
With Marcus's gesture, only the guard carrying a whip remained behind, while the rest rose to leave.
"What is this about, Lord Marcus?" Graham whispered to Marcus as they exited.
"What does it seem like to you?"
"It seems like something best left alone, even if I know."
"Then leave it alone."
Graham was a man who understood his limits, a quality Marcus valued greatly. A man like Graham wouldn't waver or break even with someone like Enkrid under his command.
"Just serve the tea."
"Understood. Let's go."
Without further comment, Graham moved forward.
After Marcus, the guard, and Graham departed, Krais remained in place. Even if he left the room, he doubted his commander would make any rash decisions or choose a side recklessly.
Yet there was always the chance. The slightest possibility.
With such uneasy thoughts stirring in his mind, Krais resolved to stay, at least to observe.
The moment Krais recognized Krang as a royal bastard, countless possibilities flashed through his mind. Alongside them, he considered how to respond to each scenario.
What if the man demanded Krais swear allegiance? What if he proposed joining a knightly order or pledging loyalty to the royal family? Or what if he offered an absurd fortune in gold?
Would that be such a bad thing?
If the fortune were substantial enough to establish five grand salons in the capital, wouldn't it be worth selling one's loyalty for a time?
No, that's absurd.
Krais's mind worked as quickly as Enkrid's blade or Rem's mastery of multiple weapons—swift and simultaneous.
And so, even as questions arose, he reached his conclusions almost instantly.
You must never trust a politician's words.
Krang sat here with Marcus's backing, having maneuvered one of the five great families that supported Naurilia into position for distraction.
Krais understood how such a royal bastard might have infiltrated this space. His plain attire and mannerisms spoke volumes.
He's hiding his identity.
And why would he need to do so?
Because he's being hunted.
If his life were truly under threat, then Enkrid's blade, his hands, and all he had built would naturally become desirable assets.
So, how should one view this man?
If this were to lead to civil war, would this bastard lay claim to the throne as a rival king?
A frontier king against a bastard king, both vying for the throne.
Which side should I choose?
The one offering the greatest advantage, of course. But for now, waiting was prudent. No matter how tempting the offer, even if a mountain of gold was presented, it would be wise to reject it with gritted teeth.
Unless… I take the advance and keep my mouth shut?
Krais quickly dismissed the thought, knowing his commander would never stoop to such tactics.
Masking his thoughts with an unchanged expression, Krais finished sorting through his calculations. He was ready to counter any proposition.
"Are you aware that our kingdom has 'lost' its language?" Krang asked suddenly.
What an unexpected question.
No, it wasn't even a question. It was more of a cryptic statement.
Krang wasn't delivering riddles, though. His words flowed smoothly, captivating the room. Krais found the man's voice oddly pleasant—clear and compelling, with a certain magnetic charm.
Such charisma wasn't unfamiliar to Krais.
Natural talent.
People who could captivate others so effortlessly, with a voice, a gesture, a presence.
Krang lightly tapped the table as he continued.
"Why is it that the languages across the continent are all the same?"
Krais, who had spent his life thinking and calculating to survive, realized this was something he had never considered. It wasn't common knowledge, but it wasn't entirely obscure either—something he might have understood if he had given it any thought.
"The same language?" Enkrid murmured to himself.
"Yes, the same. This is frustrating. Shall we take a walk? The sky is clear today. It feels like a waste to stay cooped up indoors while under threat of assassination."
Enkrid stood silently.
Assassins. By now, the word had grown familiar to him. He had faced malice and killers many times before.
The first time he had encountered an assassin, it had been because of Krang.
If Krang was still being pursued, then it was clear someone wanted him dead.
But wasn't the current ruler a queen? Who, then, had fathered her child?
That, however, was a trivial question for another time.
"Have you ever wondered why the entire continent speaks similar languages?"
"No."
"Exactly, most don't. But have you heard of the expedition to recover the royal language?"
"As a fleeting glimpse."
There had been sightings in the market of people carrying dictionaries tied together with phrases rather than scriptures.
Krais had seen them too.
According to Gilpin, such people weren't ones to cause trouble.
"They just stick to themselves," he'd said.
Krang rose from his seat and walked outside.
As he had said, the weather was splendid.
"The outside could be more dangerous," the escort warned.
"But it's suffocating in here," Krang replied, pulling out a canteen from his waist to take a sip.
Even that small gesture revealed something important.
Krang didn't eat or drink without care. Only provisions he prepared himself made it past his lips.
Enkrid matched Krang's pace, walking alongside him.
"Don't get too close," the escort cautioned.
"Stay quiet," Krang interjected, silencing the escort.
"Are you coming along?" Krang asked Krais.
Krais glanced briefly at his commander.
"Follow," Enkrid ordered.
"Yes."
Krais's response showed whose command he ultimately followed.
With Enkrid's permission, Krais joined them.
"Don't fret too much, soldier. I didn't come here to stir up trouble," Krang said, his faint smile softening the tension.
If he wasn't here to challenge their commander, then why had he come?
"For leisure," Krang said with the same unshakable smile.
Enkrid stayed silent, but Krais nodded outwardly while his inner doubts grew.
The royal bastard, a potential claimant in a civil war—such a man did not come for simple leisure.
Yet Krang's actions were consistent with his claim.
He strolled along the training grounds adjacent to the barracks, making casual remarks, not a single word of solicitation to their cause.
"It's because of the Empire," Krang said. "The Empire buried the royal language. Wiped it out."
"The unification of language is heralded as a great achievement," Krais interjected with a natural question.
Indeed, that much was true.
But even so, the royal language should have been preserved with due respect.
"What is language, soldier?" Krang asked.
"Language is... words, speech... hmm."
For a moment, Krais's sharp mind delved into the question. His unique thought process was what set him apart, akin to the revered minds of sages.
"Culture. Part of culture has disappeared," he concluded.
"Correct, soldier," Krang said with a faint smile.
Krais noted how fittingly charming that smile was. Were Krang not royalty, he might have thrived as a salon entertainer.
The royal language had been suppressed by the Empire's tyranny, all for the sake of control.
Why would the Empire do such a thing?
To unify the continent?
No. It was to exploit the kingdoms as they waged war amongst themselves.
Through control, the Empire could manipulate kingdoms to its advantage.
A politically astute move.
"A bothersome affair," Krang said with a grin, his words carrying an unsettling undertone.
To Krais, this was clear.
'He's already planning his future as king.'
Krang had already marked the Empire as his enemy.
He spoke with the certainty of someone who believed their succession to the throne was inevitable.
And if he failed?
What did it matter? The fate of the royal house after his death was irrelevant to him.
"Count Molsan is quite formidable," Enkrid pointed out, addressing a potential obstacle.
"Well, something will work out," Krang replied nonchalantly.
No plan? Was this a joke?
Krais, bewildered, voiced his skepticism.
"Something, sir?"
Krang stopped walking.
Standing still, he extended his open palm behind him.
Enkrid, Krais, and the escort halted.
Krang stepped forward, creating a short distance from the group before turning.
"The kingdom is fraught with internal strife. Claimants to the throne abound, while the continent swarms with beasts and monstrosities. Nobles' voices rise above the queen's, yet there's no hand to subdue them. The knights struggle merely to mend the gaps in the maelstrom, and those who've abandoned loyalty for greed are scattered everywhere."
His voice carried just enough weight, resonating through the greenery beside the barracks.
It drew their attention like a spotlight in a dark theater, consuming the surrounding silence.
Krang had achieved this with a mere few steps, subtle gestures, and chosen words.
Once he had their focus, Krang spoke again.
"My task is to ensure that doesn't happen."
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