Eternally Regressing Knight-Chapter 562 - There is no Vice-Captain?

Chapter 562 - There is no Vice-Captain?

Bianca Conti's face betrayed her frustration.

She had arrived unannounced but had displayed proper etiquette, staying in the city for days while waiting to be summoned.

Yet her host had ignored her, vanished without a word.

If they harbored animosity toward the Empire, saying so outright would have been understandable.

But this silent avoidance?

It was a first.

Vanishing without even a "shall we meet or not"?

"My apologies. The captain is away on a mission," Krais said.

"Wasn't he here just yesterday?"

The brown-haired man with large eyes sighed, shaking his head slightly, his gestures effortlessly natural.

It was as if even he was a victim of circumstance, sharing her bewilderment with a faint smile.

Bianca, an Imperial noble and an emissary, had encountered countless people hiding behind masks in the Empire's social circles.

Even so, it had been a while since she had come across someone who could so flawlessly conceal their true intentions.

To anyone else, his tone might have seemed genuine enough to inspire pity.

"Well, as you might guess from the name alone, the captain has... quirks," Krais said, tapping his temple lightly with a half-curled index finger.

Krais knew that Enkrid had no intention of mingling with an imperial envoy or entertaining talk of matchmaking.

Revealing a fragment of truth about the captain's eccentricities wasn't a big deal.

Bianca, however, didn't let anger cloud her judgment.

Losing composure in any situation was the mark of an amateur.

A seasoned go-between in the Empire's social circles, Bianca wasn't about to fall for such transparent tricks.

Ridiculous, she thought.

Krais's demeanor and acting were so impeccable that she almost wanted to put him on an imperial theater stage.

But Bianca focused on the circumstances, not his words or actions.

He avoids me despite my messages, claiming business, then leaves for an "assignment"?

He was clearly dodging her.

Why?

Because she was from the Empire?

Did he find that intimidating?

If that was the case, she could simply approach things differently.

Bianca hadn't come under anyone's orders.

She had hoped to claim the man at the center of the rumors spreading even to the Empire's borders as one of her triumphs.

"I'll wait," she declared.

Clack.

The teacup in her hand met the sturdy rosewood table with a deliberate sound.

Bianca believed that if she could just have a conversation with him, winning over a man whose life revolved around swords wouldn't be difficult.

Such men were typically exceptional in their field, having dedicated their lives to training.

But they often lacked understanding of other aspects—like power, influence, or what they could truly seize for themselves.

No bear hates honey.

No merchant despises gold coins.

No man resists women.

This was Bianca's philosophy.

Exceptions to the rule existed, of course, but she knew well how rarely anyone strayed from the logic she understood so deeply.

And she knew of the Black Witch and the Golden Flower.

But her proposal wasn't just about a simple union.

"That's up to you, of course," Krais replied, trailing off, "but the castle is undergoing renovations right now, so there aren't any suitable accommodations..."

With drooping eyelids and a subtle tilt of his lips, Krais conveyed both the honor and inconvenience of the situation.

"That won't be a problem," Bianca said decisively.

She figured she could always stay at an inn.

Krais's eyes flicked between Bianca and the man guarding her.

Behind him stood Nurat and Luagarne, acting as escorts.

The Empire, huh.

Obtaining information about the Empire from this side was difficult.

Bianca Conti, a countess from the Empire, wasn't someone who resided in the Imperial Capital or the royal court.

Between the Empire and the kingdom lay the towering Gigant Mountain Range, a barrier so vast it was nicknamed the "Wall of the Gods."

The range influenced the local climate, blocking winds and clouds.

Legends said that one of the ancient gods molded the mountain range and placed it on the land, causing rain to nourish one side while leaving the other parched.

This was a poetic explanation for how the mountains acted as a natural barrier.

Krais's thoughts briefly wandered into myth before snapping back to the present.

"What do you think?" Krais asked, looking ahead.

His question wasn't about whether the woman was an imperial envoy or a matchmaker.

"The woman shows no signs of training, and her escort is a semi knight," Nurat replied.

"Agreed. She has five escorts, all of similar skill and temperament," Ruagarne added.

"Temperament?"

"It suggests they were trained by the same person. Their techniques show signs of long-term practice in the same martial discipline," Luagarne explained.

Krais, while trained enough to handle himself, wasn't on par with Semi knights or higher.

Frankly, given the caliber of people around Enkrid, he knew his head could be lopped off with a single stroke.

Not that he intended to let such a situation arise.

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Luagarne puffed out her cheeks thoughtfully, blinking a few times as she reflected on her observations.

While escorting Bianca, she had sensed a refined form of Will emanating from the group.

"If someone had formalized the process of understanding Will and developed a training regimen around it," she began after a pause.

"And?" Krais prompted, an excellent listener.

"Then people like those escorts could emerge," Ruagarne concluded.

The Empire wasn't just a strong nation; it was unique on the continent as the only one ruled by an emperor.

Why was the Empire so powerful?

There were countless reasons.

But Krais felt as though he'd glimpsed one of them.

Even a minor noble wandering at will could afford to bring along five semi knights as escorts—an implicit demonstration of the Empire's might.

And these weren't official imperial knights.

If they were, their presence alone would be an act of aggression.

Instead, they likely belonged to a unit stationed in a city near the kingdom's border.

No imperial knight of such caliber would be relegated to guarding gambling dens.

From this lone envoy, Krais could infer much about the Empire.

The fact that they didn't feel the need to conceal their power was telling.

He shivered momentarily as a chill ran down his spine.

For a brief moment, his courage wavered.

But Krais took a deep breath and steadied himself.

No backing down now.

***

"Take this and start running."

"What's that?"

Enkrid couldn't help but ask, his curiosity piqued by the object in plain view.

Rem held what resembled an axe, but it was a training tool without a sharpened blade, and its weight distribution seemed haphazard.

Where the axe blade should have been, there was a crude chunk of iron, and even the handle was made of solid metal.

When he picked it up, it wasn't unbearably heavy, but its weight was no joke. It seemed like a good tool for arm muscle training, but its chaotic balance made it less ideal for that purpose.

Could carrying such a thing and running really count as training?

'Hmm, not bad.'

Rem's technique of recoil-less chopping came to Enkrid's mind.

Its essence lay in wielding the axe's weight entirely with raw strength.

Not every swing could be recoil-less, but if one could manage it once or twice in a critical moment, it could be a life-saving technique.

What if an entire squad could chop like that?

It would require both talent and effort, but if it worked, Rem's unit would turn into a group of fearsome warriors.

"Not bad at all."

Enkrid voiced his thoughts, mixed with a hint of admiration.

He reflected on his own training, Rem's approach, and what the future might hold.

Rem's sincerity in training was clear, and this method seemed well thought-out—not something conceived overnight.

It felt like a training regimen imbued with genuine care.

Enkrid mused that he might adopt a similar routine for himself later on.

Of course, if Rem's soldiers overheard this, they would likely call their "esteemed unyielding knight" a conscienceless ghoul and come at him with axes in hand.

Turning his attention away from the training tool, Enkrid asked again.

"Is getting rid of the Demonic domain all there is to it?"

In the West, there was the Silence Demonic domain, and Rem was intent on erasing it.

But was that all he wanted?

Would it truly end there if he achieved just that?

Did joining the knighthood truly reflect Rem's aspirations?

"What are you getting at?"

Rem tilted his head in confusion.

Enkrid often, no, frequently, said bizarre things.

This time was no different.

The gist of it was this: Enkrid was implying that while Rem had a place in the knighthood, if he had deeper desires, he was free to leave and pursue them.

"What nonsense are you spouting? Ain't I the vice-captain?"

Rem retorted, utterly baffled by the notion.

Enkrid paused for a moment before responding.

"There is no vice-captain."

Other than the position of captain, no other ranks existed.

There was no avoiding it.

Creating such a role would inevitably lead to discord—no, it would spark catastrophic flames of chaos.

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