Chapter 808

Chapter 808

Under normal circumstances, a knight was rarely relegated to the role of a personal sentry. To keep such a warrior stationary was viewed as a drain on the kingdom’s overall power. It was far more advantageous for a knight to be deployed to the frontiers or sent to neutralize the diverse threats teeming across the continent. This strategic necessity was precisely why the Red Cloak Order of Knights remained stationed at the southern border. While some knights lived according to their own whims, their total number across the land was far from vast.

Because of this, the Captain of the Royal Guard found himself unable to rationalize the current situation. Though he had run out of valid arguments, he maintained his protest until the very end.

“A single hand is insufficient to construct a wall,” the Captain remarked.

Crang dismissed the objection with an air of nonchalance.

“True. But the circumstances have shifted. At this moment, the only thing requiring protection is myself.”

“A man possesses two eyes for a reason,” the Captain countered.

Enkrid found himself agreeing with the Captain’s logic. Sensing a threat was one skill, but preemptively stopping danger before it manifested required an immense level of vigilance. Even a knight struggled to manage such a task in isolation. Personal bodyguards were, by necessity, confined to a specific radius around their ward, limiting their field of influence. Having served as a protector on numerous occasions, Enkrid understood these limitations intimately.

“Are you suggesting that an assault could occur within the capital itself, beyond the notice of a knight?” Crang inquired suddenly. His tone was heavy with a confidence that signaled a trap, yet the Captain of the Royal Guard felt compelled to answer.

“It is my responsibility to prepare for the one-in-a-thousand catastrophe,” the Captain replied.

“Then hear this,” Crang said. “It is my responsibility to govern in such a way that the one-in-a-thousand catastrophe never has the chance to occur.”

Crang had invested heavily in the capital’s security and worked tirelessly to uphold social order. Was there still risk? Naturally. No amount of preparation could ever fully eradicate danger. Human effort might reach completion, but it could never achieve true perfection; that was simply the nature of existence.

Furthermore, the recently established trade route through Naurillia had turned the capital into a melting pot, drawing in giants, fairies, dwarves, Frokk, and beastmen. These were joined by travelers from the West and South, and occasionally, diplomatic parties from the Empire.

‘That is illogical.’
‘Completely unreasonable.’
‘Irrational.’

Enkrid, Marcus, Matthew, and the Captain of the Royal Guard all recognized the absurdity of Crang’s claim. Yet, as he spoke, an aura of light seemed to emanate from him. With the morning sun positioned behind him, his silhouette stretched across the stones, as if his very shadow radiated his iron-clad will. Crang continued, his voice steady and bold.

“Relinquish your anxieties. Even should I fall, the kingdom will endure. Naurillia has outgrown its fragility.”

The Captain, though starting to yield, made one final plea. “My sworn duty is your safety.”

“I am well aware,” Crang replied with a gentle smile, as if asking for a personal favor.

Defeated by that look, the Captain of the Royal Guard stepped back. Enkrid then escorted Crang out of the inner citadel. They departed on foot, moving quietly. Once they were clear, Enkrid voiced his thoughts on the exchange.

“That was quite unreasonable.”

Crang nodded immediately. He didn’t bother to deny it, nor did he look the least bit sheepish.

“I know it was.”

“Then why do it?”

“Well, I could explain the nuances now, but you strike me as the sort of person who will grasp the truth without a lecture. So, I’ll spare you the words.”

In the time they had been apart, Crang had clearly mastered the art of using sophistry to sway others. Enkrid gave a small nod, accepting the non-explanation for now.

Crang added, “There are times when even a sovereign must embrace peril. What I am seeking today is a secret inspection.”

A secret inspection involved the king masking his status to observe the genuine lives of his subjects. A massive security detail would draw eyes and defeat the purpose of being a silent observer.

Enkrid questioned the necessity of such a move at this specific time. From a standard viewpoint, it seemed impulsive and unnecessary. However, Enkrid knew Crang didn’t act without purpose. Without a direct explanation, the true goal remained elusive, but Enkrid’s instincts suggested that Crang was hunting for a specific outcome.

“You’re still in the middle of recovery, right?” Crang asked.

“My arms require more downtime,” Enkrid answered.

“You call it downtime, yet you managed to suppress Aisia and the other soldiers?”

“That was merely part of my rehabilitation.”

Enkrid spoke with total sincerity, but Crang erupted into bright laughter, clearly taking the comment as a witty remark.

Despite the talk of a secret inspection, Crang’s only disguise was a hooded hat with a pointed brim. He hadn’t actually tried to hide his facial features.

“Aren’t you going to mask your face?”

“How many citizens do you believe would actually recognize their monarch? You could count them on one hand.”

To Enkrid, it seemed like Crang actually *wanted* to be identified. He also noticed that Crang seemed strangely satisfied by the fact that Enkrid was still hampered by his wounds.

‘What is his true objective?’

If Enkrid pondered it long enough, the pieces might fit.
‘He claims this is a secret inspection, yet he leaves his face visible.’
‘He acknowledges my injuries with a look of approval.’
‘He intentionally sent away his guards.’
‘And he mentioned a foul atmosphere creeping through the capital.’

Was Crang acting as live bait to flush out his enemies? But would such a move be beneficial? If word got out that the king was under threat, would it provide political leverage?

‘It seems more like a liability.’

The stability of the capital, the purging of monsters, and the removal of bandits and beastmen were the pillars of Naurillia’s current boom. Why let the public know that assassins were targeting the crown? Even if that knowledge was necessary, why do it so publicly instead of through controlled whispers?

“Observe,” Crang said, breaking Enkrid’s train of thought. He pointed toward a path paved with pale stones, which was mostly empty at this hour. The stones created a sharp, distinct trail.

“These are the four main arteries of the capital. This specific one is the White Road, which leads directly to the inner citadel.”

As they traversed the path, Enkrid could hear the crunch of white sand beneath their boots.

“They used quarried white stone for this,” Crang explained.

The road was meticulously organized, with separate lanes for wagons and pedestrians. This was one of Naurillia’s major infrastructure triumphs—thoroughfares designed for safe travel, featuring carriages that moved on a set schedule. In the midst of the city’s growth, these roads ensured no one would lose their way.

‘This mirrors the work of the Border Guard.’
Enkrid noted that Kraiss was managing a nearly identical initiative elsewhere.

“And look over there,” Crang directed.

Enkrid looked toward a warehouse with a rounded roof. It stood out because the roof appeared to be made of metal, shimmering with a silver luster that seemed to ripple under the sun.

“Low-quality tin is difficult to use for standard tools, so we used it for the exterior casing and installed Spell Objects inside to generate a freezing environment.”

Using Spell Objects to maintain cold temperatures was a massive financial drain, but this specific configuration was built for long-term efficiency. The outer tin acted as a magical conductor, with runes carved into it to ensure a constant cycle of chilled air. Enkrid wasn’t well-versed in the mechanics—he suspected Esther would have found the device quite charming—but the utility was clear.

“The government funded the construction and then rented the space out to various merchants. It generated a significant amount of krona.”

Crang wasn’t boasting; he was simply giving a tour of the city’s progress. However, he looked genuinely energized, like a friend showing off a hard-won achievement. Despite his crown, Crang proved to be an excellent companion and guide.

They passed through districts where wagons were banned to accommodate the dense crowds of traders, and bypass roads intended for those who needed to navigate the city quickly.

Eventually, they purchased candied apples and continued their walk, the sound of their chewing punctuating the air. Suddenly, Enkrid’s perception shifted. The world around him seemed to decelerate as his senses reached a peak of sensitivity. His sixth sense flared with a warning of imminent danger.

Still biting into his apple, he reached out a hand. His fingers snapped shut in a motion so rapid it was nearly invisible to a bystander.

*Tak!* A vibration echoed through his arm.

An arrow’s wooden shaft was now gripped firmly in his palm. The projectile had been launched with lethal velocity. And it wasn’t a solitary strike.

Three more arrows followed in rapid succession. Enkrid’s hands became a blur, plucking the bolts from the air as if they were stationary objects.

*Tak, tak, tak—*

He now held four arrows.

Despite his lingering injuries, his combat conditioning was a fundamental part of his being. This level of threat was manageable. Enkrid’s eyes scanned the surrounding architecture with wide-angle precision.

‘These are professional killers.’

He knew this because they didn’t wait to see if their shots landed; they immediately repositioned. They were everywhere—on rooftops, behind windows, and in the dark corners of the market. Shadows hiding rats with murderous intent. The number of attackers was high.

Enkrid moved to stand before Crang, using his own frame as a shield. He was confident he could intercept arrows all night if necessary, catching them out of the air with ease.

“…You stopped every single one,” Crang said from behind him. His voice carried a note of surprise, but it was an odd sort of surprise. It wasn’t sheer awe at Enkrid’s prowess, but rather the reaction of someone watching a plan unfold with a slight deviation.

“There are many of them,” Enkrid replied tonelessly. Arrows or javelins—it made no difference to him. Even a knight with basic training could fend off an assault like this, though perhaps not with the effortless grace of someone catching toys.

While his performance should have been enough to demoralize the assassins, they persisted. Two more arrows were loosed, but these felt different.

Enkrid’s mind calculated their trajectories instantly.
‘One carries a pungent, chemical odor.’
‘The other has a sharp, biting resonance.’

These were magically enhanced arrows. If he simply blocked them, they would likely detonate, releasing their effects. The logical counter was to move forward and strike them down while absorbing the force, but that was exactly the reaction the enemies were fishing for.

‘If I move to avoid them, the remaining shots will hit Crang.’

He decided to hold his ground and redirect them instead.

The first arrow, smelling of chemicals, had a scroll tightly bound to its tip. A sudden stop would trigger an explosion. Rather than grabbing it, Enkrid treated it like a spear thrust from a master. He used the back of his hand to deliver a precise, glancing blow. The arrow’s path shifted, and the bolt intended for Crang’s skull whistled harmlessly overhead.

He dealt with the second arrow in the same fashion. This one was designed to release a toxic mist, but Enkrid’s flick sent it spiraling away. The first arrow detonated high above the rooftops with a thunderous roar, while the second hissed in a nearby alleyway, venting a thick cloud of green vapor.

In the shadows, some of the assassins stood frozen, their mouths agape.

What had they just witnessed?
Catching standard arrows was one thing, but parrying a spell-laden projectile with a casual wave of the hand was beyond comprehension. It appeared as though he had commanded the wind itself to push the threat aside.

Enkrid casually flexed his hand. The tip of the arrow had touched him, but it left only a faint red mark rather than a wound. At the moment of contact, he had channeled his Will to toughen his skin into armor.

“They have a sharp edge,” he noted quietly.

He didn’t waste energy staring at their hiding spots. He remained anchored to his position, focused on Crang’s safety. As long as the arrows came from a distance, his only option was to play the role of the shield. In such an engagement, the protector was always at a disadvantage.

The assassins refocused their aim on Enkrid, preparing a coordinated volley. However, Enkrid spoke up.

“I didn’t arrive here without backup.”

The killers weren’t the only ones who knew how to utilize the shadows.