Aspen had been defeated. But it hadn’t collapsed.
Winning and losing are things that happen repeatedly.
No matter how thoroughly you prepare, problems arise. Defeat was just a problem to be endured.
‘We can lose.’
That’s what Avnair, the genius strategist of Aspen, thought.
But to lose like this? All the preparations had been thwarted. The strategies carefully laid out were nullified from the start.
Even though it was a retreating battlefield, to be contradicted like this?
Avnair, Aspen’s genius strategist, was quite confident.
Even if it wasn’t a perfect victory, he thought they wouldn’t be easily pushed back.
He had more than one or two plans.
They had brought in a giant.
They had hidden their full strength.
They had even led the enemy into complacency and provided an overall strategy.
The strategy’s essence was this: to win in the detour battle and split Naurillia’s main force.
That was the basic plan to divide their main forces, but it went wrong from the start.
The defeat in a battle they couldn’t afford to lose was the beginning of all the chaos.
It was like one bookshelf toppling over and causing a domino effect.
“Unbelievable.”
It was absurd. So much so that he spoke to himself. Avnair ran his hand through his green hair.
In the bright sunlight, he saw a child playing outside the window.
A few attendants were trailing after the child.
The child waved toward the window. Avnair leaned against the windowsill with the window open.
After waving back at the child, he enjoyed the sunshine.
It was a good day. The season was warming up.
He saw the child climb onto a swing hanging outside.
While watching the child, he mulled over the beginning of the operation. That’s what Avnair did.
‘Why?’
Why did they lose?
The defeat of the entire battlefield began with the detour.
Several documents crossed his mind.
He needed to trace back to find the cause of the defeat.
Going back to the beginning, the very start.
‘It started with the soldier duel.’
That was the beginning of the block, after which Mitch Hurrier died.
In the end, there were unexpected displays of force in the detour battle.
Who was at the center of that?
There was a name in the report Avnair received.
It was the last information sent by a friendly commander before dying.
The Madmen Platoon, Platoon Leader Encrid.
The name wasn’t unfamiliar, and as he recalled, he was someone for whom an assassin was sent by the Hurrier family.
Just a Platoon leader? Could such a person be the beginning of all these conflicts?
He didn’t know. From now on, it was purely instinct.
The instinct of a strategist and a military man.
‘It won’t be a loss.’
When the Hurrier family sent assassins, it seemed like a useless act, but it might have been the right move.
Avnair decided to use an assassin for the future, specifically for the next war after the peace.
He still aimed to kill just one Platoon leader.
Since there was a well-established guild operating in Aspen, using them would ensure they wouldn’t be traced back.
After organizing his thoughts, he moved. He stepped away from the window sill, immediately ordered the summoning of the Assassination Guild, and placed a request in the name of the Royal palace.
“If they cross the border, the reward will be triple, and they will reject unreasonable requests.”
In response to the Assassination Guild, Avnair sent his reply. A note with ‘Krona’ written on it would suffice.
“Just a Platoon leader? For just one, are you using this much Krona?”
It was enough to buy a mansion in the capital of the Aspen Duchy.
The Assassination Guild had no reason to refuse.
It wasn’t like they were asked to kill a well-known noble or target a key military figure.
Just one Platoon leader, crossing the border being the only risk.
The Assassination Guild accepted the request and moved.
They selected three assassins and sent them.
“Failure?”
The guild leader realized he had underestimated the situation.
“Send intermediate assassins.”
Thinking back, hadn’t the half-blood fairy failed previously?
He was intermediate level too. Well, that’s why they sent three assassins.
“Send two more.”
Those were the assassins sent.
“Boss.”
“Another failure?”
No, this is strange. Why do they keep dying?
“Two intermediate assassins?”
“Yes.”
What’s going on?
Maybe they need to send a higher-ranked assassin. At this point, they needed to consider the cost.
“Send a higher-ranked assassin.”
They get the job done. Above all, it was a direct order from the Royal palace. Although they operated publicly as an Assassination Guild, fundamentally, the guild known as “Montaire’s Swamp” was owned by the Royal palace.
The guild leader knew this well.
If they went against the Royal palace, making a living through assassination would be impossible.
So, a higher-ranked assassin was sent.
“What is this!”
One of the top ten assassins in Montaire’s Swamp failed. There was no contact.
Unless a kind wizard suddenly appeared and removed the curse marks engraved on their bodies, they must be dead.
Sure enough, two days later, the assassin’s head was delivered. To the secret mansion Montaire’s Swamp had hidden.
“Inform the palace.”
Proceeding further would result in severe losses. There was something on the other side. A higher-ranked assassin wasn’t just captured but beheaded.
And they revealed their location?
There was an involvement of a superior group.
“That’s my judgment.”
The guild leader entered the palace.
He told them everything that happened.
He conveyed that it was impossible to proceed further.
Avnair smirked inwardly.
‘The Assassination Guild failed?’
It was absurd for him as well. They had no capacity or time to intervene further.
“Let’s leave it at that.”
Avnair gave up.
There was too much going on internally in Aspen to focus more on this.
If there was something about that person.
If there really was something.
‘We’ll meet again.’
Avnair left the name Encrid behind.
If they were destined to meet on the battlefield, then so be it.
It meant that Encrid was not someone who could be ended by assassination.
* * *
A shadow had been lurking around the barracks for several days. The movements were familiar, making it difficult for a casual observer to guess it was the same person.
Facing him, Jaxon held his breath and quieted his footsteps.
He perfectly silenced any trace of his presence to confuse the assassin.
‘What is this?’
He recognized the assassin immediately. They were in the same line of work.
Jaxon unraveled a thin cord from his hand. It was thick and coated with black ink and a special oil to prevent light reflection.
It wrapped around the assassin’s neck.
Before the assassin could react, Jaxon pulled the cord. With the force from a jab to the back with his elbow, he snapped the neck halfway.
There was a soft snap as the head tilted to the side.
Breaking the neck meant death. It was a simple fact.
Jaxon inspected the dead assassin.
Had it not been him, this would have been a difficult opponent.
Jaxon was not a combatant but an intelligence agent for the Border Guard.
That didn’t mean he would be caught off guard, though.
‘The third one.’
Three attacks had occurred in the three months since the battle ended.
The third attack involved someone who had deliberately stayed close to the barracks wall.
This individual had spent three days in various disguises—beggar, old man, merchant—each time appearing differently.
‘A pretty skilled guy.’
Such people had entered the city where Jaxon was staying. It seemed their target was inside the barracks.
If they were targeting a Company Commander, Battalion Commander, or a Noble, they would have approached differently.
The first ones came disguised as new recruits.
Their target was too obvious.
‘The Madmen Platoon.’
Following the trail, the target became clear.
It was the Platoon leader. They were targeting Encrid.
But since Encrid hadn’t left the barracks or training grounds for three months, they tried to infiltrate.
“Crazy bastards.”
Putting in this much effort to kill just one Platoon leader?
Jaxon moved quietly, avoiding the eyes of others, with the corpse slung over his shoulder, to a side alley where vagrants stayed. He laid the body down.
He posed the body as if it were sleeping and bought a bottle of liquor, pouring it around and leaving it next to the corpse.
This way, people would likely just think it was a dead vagrant and not look for any signs of foul play.
After dealing with the body, Jaxon entered the red-light district.
He was a regular there.
As he arrived, a few of the women glanced at him.
Such a striking appearance wasn’t common.
Ignoring the stares, Jaxon went into a room where a young blonde woman greeted him half-naked.
Jaxon gestured with a few fingers, using sign language to convey his message. The woman spoke.
“No one’s listening.”
“Any problems?”
“No more problems.”
Previously, they had missed the half-blood fairy assassin entering the city.
Even if they hadn’t blanketed the entire city with watchers, this seemed implausible.
Jaxon was bothered by it. His pride was wounded.
After that, more assassins had come, and he had killed each one.
As long as he was with the Border Guard, no other assassins or similar characters would get in.
It wasn’t just because someone was targeting the Platoon leader.
Absolutely not.
Jaxon leaned against the door, expressionless as usual.
The woman, observing his expression, continued.
“They’re from Montaire’s Swamp. What should we do?”
Montaire’s Swamp was an Assassination Guild based in Aspen.
“Let them know this is my territory. Our way.”
The message was clear: kill anyone who crossed the line. The woman nodded.
It might lead to a guild war.
But it would likely be an unseen war.
Her organization was originally such a place.
Afterward, Jaxon spent the night with her.
Their relationship was both professional and physical.
They were close to being lovers.
The woman woke early and had a few subordinates cut off the head of the corpse Jaxon had killed.
She sent it to one of Montaire’s Swamp’s bases.
It was a warning.
If they ignored the warning, the consequences were their own.
After that, Montaire’s Swamp made no further attempts.
For good reason.
If they operated in Aspen, this side operated across the continent.
* * *
“Is this the right way?”
Krais looked around the gloomy alley and asked, noticing the foul smell and the filthy, uninviting ground.
It was an alley near where vagrants stayed.
Krais’s question was directed at Jaxon.
Encrid also glanced around.
While procuring various items, Encrid had asked if they could find a whistle dagger.
“We can find it.”
Jaxon had said, and he had told them to follow. That’s how they ended up here.
Lately, they had been so busy that finding time for this seemed unlikely.
Jaxon had been spending time in the red-light district and various other places, rarely coming to the barracks.
Jaxon didn’t respond to Krais’s question, thinking it wasn’t worth his time. It was typical of Jaxon to remain silent when he thought something had no value.
His silence indicated that this was the right place. Sometimes silence serves as an answer.
Though Krais had asked, he didn’t push further.
It wasn’t as if they couldn’t enter just because it was a bit dirty.
“This way.”
Jaxon spoke indifferently and led the way inside.
Encrid followed him.
They had been looking for a blacksmith, preferably a skilled one.
They already knew that there was no answer from that side.
Krais had already done enough research to know.
Following Encrid, Frog also came along.
For some reason, Esther had joined them as well.
As they entered the garbage-filled alley, Esther climbed up the wall and walked along the rooftops.
“That’s some witchcraft.”
Luagarne commented upon seeing this.
Encrid half-agreed, thinking she didn’t seem entirely human.
Luagarne wore boots designed for Frog, featuring a unique design with eight tight straps over the instep and a sturdy wooden sole.
With every step she took, a clacking sound was made by the contact between the cobblestone and her shoes.
“Here we are.”
Jaxon stopped and spoke.
There were many items to prepare for the journey, especially for the mission, and Encrid wanted to stock up on whistle daggers.
“…Quite a few customers today.”
An old woman, who had laid out a stall right in front of an open door, spoke. She had crystal balls, faded curly blonde hair, wrinkled hands, and the appearance of a fortune-teller.
“Is it really here?”
Encrid had experienced various things. An underground market? He had seen quite a few. During his mercenary days, he had even seen illegal slave markets that operated secretly.
An underground market, and now a fortune-teller?
Whistle daggers were hard to find. They were rare even in underground markets.
Could such a weapon be with a fortune-teller?
“Yes.”
Jaxon replied and gestured with his hands, using sign language. Encrid didn’t understand the meaning of the signs, but the old fortune-teller let out a nasal sound, which seemed to be a sign of permission.
“Looking for something specific?”
The fortune-teller asked.
“Whistle daggers, as many as possible.”
Encrid answered.
“And the payment?”
“This guy will handle it.”
Encrid indicated Krais.
“Yes, I’ll pay.”
Krais reluctantly stepped forward, though outwardly he appeared quite willing. If he had to spend money, he might as well spend it properly. Investing is the way to make a profit, after all.
“Shall I send it to the unit?”
“Do you know who I am?”
Encrid responded with a question, and the old fortune-teller chuckled.
“In this city, even if they don’t know the name of the Battalion Commander, there’s no one who doesn’t know your name.”
What did that mean?
Encrid wanted to ask more, but the fortune-teller started packing up her crystal ball and tools.
“Well then, goodbye.”
As the old woman went into her house, Encrid wondered if he should ask her something else.
She packed her things with a practiced hand, taking only a few moments to clear the stall.
Encrid sometimes wondered.
How did Jaxon know places like this?
Even Krais had given up on finding these items.
But Encrid didn’t ask how he knew. The goal was the whistle daggers, not Jaxon’s past.
“Do you really think she’ll get them? It doesn’t seem trustworthy.”
Krais muttered beside him, naturally suspicious.
“If she doesn’t, then so be it.”
Encrid said as he walked away, thinking of picking up a few things from the market since they were already out.
For instance, visiting a jerky shop known for its excellent seasoning and stopping by a blacksmith to check his armor.
It was too hot to wear a gambeson, but he couldn’t go without some protection.
He considered getting a loose-fitting leather armor.
He had thrown away his old leather armor.
One day, Esther had shredded it with her claws.
“Maybe you should pay for new armor by selling your claws.” Encrid joked to Esther, who was walking on the roof.
“Kir.”
The panther let out a low growl.
It sounded like she was saying, “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Encrid had meant it as a joke.
As he approached the jerky shop to place some orders,
“Thank you.”
The shop owner greeted him with gratitude.
“For what?”
As Encrid tilted his head in confusion, the shop owner bowed twice more.
Through his hair, specks of white strands were visible.
“Because I’m grateful. As the mother of a foolish son, how could I take Krona from the person who saved him? Take as much as you want.”
“Huh?”
Encrid was perplexed. He had merely fought to the best of his ability.
He had risked his life, just struggling to survive.
In his desperate fighting,he received gratitude from a mother who had raised her son alone.
“Thank you, without my son, I have no reason to live.”
On the battlefield, the things that happened.
Many people had been saved thanks to Encrid.
And they were all connected to the Border Guard.
“Only pay half price for the armor.”
“If you’re looking for a leather water bottle, this one’s better.”
“Are your boots still in good condition? If you bring that platoon member over, I’ll take their measurements and make everything custom.”
“I don’t have much to give except flowers.”
“Take this with you.”
“How about an apple?”
“I’ve gathered some dried fruits.”
“Would you like some charcoal?”
For the past three months, the merchants in the market hadn’t seen Encrid. Now they were treating their hero.
It was something Encrid had never expected.
“Tch, I feel oddly happy.” Krais said from beside him, and Encrid felt the same.
Though he hadn’t fought desperately just to save someone.
He had also thought about protecting those around him.
A new thought dawned on him.
What is a Knight?
‘A protector.’
Someone who protects the smiles of their people and upholds their beliefs.
For Encrid, it was a surprisingly satisfying outing and a fulfilling day.
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