Eternally Regressing Knight

Two young members of the village’s militia, stationed at the entrance, exchanged glances before turning their attention back to the road ahead.

One of them, casually holding a leather coif in his hand, lazily placed it on his head and spoke, his manner sluggish and almost indifferent.

“Not exactly wrong, but still…”

The other, with sharper eyes, stepped forward.

“I think we’ll need to ask for permision to let you in. Just wait here a moment.”

With that, one of them went inside, leaving Jaxen to continue his ceaseless chatter.

“Well, there don’t seem to be any monsters around the village, and doesn’t that smell wonderful? It must be dinnertime already. It’s been four days of nothing but jerky for me! I’ll make sure to show my gratitude, so please consider cutting me some slack.”

He was gently coaxing the remaining young militia member, who had large, innocent eyes.

The young man, barely nodding, seemed tempted but still didn’t let them in easily.

“That’s not allowed… but if you wait here, I think someone inside will come out and talk to you…”

He trailed off awkwardly, a habit that made him somewhat frustrating to deal with, but Jaxen didn’t seem to mind.

“Ah, I see!”

He simply nodded enthusiastically, acting as though everything was fine.

Enkrid was quietly impressed, over and over again.

‘How is he this good?’

It felt like Krais himself had swapped faces and showed up here.

But was it normal for a village to enforce entry restrictions so strictly?

Some villages might, under certain circumstances.

For example, if there were dangers nearby or if they were at war with another village.

But this village didn’t seem to fit those scenarios.

“It’s just that… A wandering swordsman caused trouble before, and, well… even a frog…”

The militia member, who had been fidgeting, offered an explanation without being asked, nervously watching for a reaction. He seemed incredibly timid.

Enkrid had a guess about the frog.

So that frog had caused trouble after pretending to have simply “come by”?

Just as Enkrid was feeling exasperated by the young militia member’s hesitant tone, a message came from inside.

The sharp-eyed one who had gone in earlier strode out and shouted,

“Come in!”

Permission was granted. Jaxen broke into a wide smile at the news.

His performance was astonishingly smooth, to the point it was almost magical.

On reflection, it made sense.

‘He always seemed like the kind of person who scratched everyone’s itch in the unit.’

Yet, at some point, Jaxen had methodically cut off ties with those around him, doing so in an instant.

Afterward, rumors circulated that he spent all the money he earned at brothels.

The fact that he often disappeared into the market and didn’t return to the barracks lent credence to these stories.

Enkrid didn’t believe the rumors.

If Jaxen had truly fallen for a prostitute, he was the type to bring her back with him.

But for him to simply visit repeatedly and leave silently?

Only those close to Jaxen understood the truth.

To those who didn’t know him, he seemed like another soldier wasting his wages on brothels.

However, Jaxen was far from simple.

Sometimes, he spent entire days in tea shops or idly sipped beer while lingering near gambling dens.

To an outsider, he seemed like someone killing time without a purpose.

But was there more to it?

Enkrid had noticed long ago but didn’t bother looking into it deeply.

‘He must have his reasons.’

This ability to adapt his behavior, switch expressions, and mimic Krais perfectly was one of Jaxen’s strengths.

Silent footsteps, seamless movements, and a blade without a trace of killing intent.

All of it was quintessentially Jaxen.

Enkrid was simply reminding himself of what he already knew. He still saw no reason to push Jaxen away or question him.

As the commander of the Independent Unit, Enkrid was responsible for Jaxen, and as long as the mission was completed successfully, that was all that mattered.

In that sense, Jaxen was an excellent subordinate and even a great mentor.

If Jaxen ever turned his blade on Enkrid, the latter would ask twice before retaliating and might even take the blow once.

That was how much Enkrid owed him.

Right now, however, Enkrid wasn’t particularly focused on Jaxen.

“Wow, that’s impressive.”

What caught his attention was Shinar, standing beside him and marveling openly.

Why hadn’t the fairy, with all her keen senses, noticed this village brimming with the scent of herbs and potions?

As they entered the village, the militia youth called out a warning from behind.

“Don’t cause trouble. Just because you’re good with a sword doesn’t mean you can go around picking fights. You’ll only get yourself hurt.”

Most villages maintained some level of defense, employing mercenaries or militia for protection.

This village seemed particularly well-organized.

The fences were high and double-layered, with clear signs of regular maintenance.

Thorny bushes intertwined with the outer fence added another layer of protection, and their height would deter most monsters or beasts.

As Enkrid had noticed earlier, the entrance was narrow, barely wide enough for a single cart to pass through.

To an uninformed observer, it might look like an ordinary village, but Enkrid thought otherwise.

Many saw Enkrid as nothing more than a “sword fanatic” oblivious to anything else, but Krais and a select few knew better.

“See? The captain’s smart. He’s just not used to showing it,” they’d say.

And they were right.

Above all, Enkrid had a sharp sense of intuition.

Combined with his mastery of sensory techniques, he could detect subtle changes in the air and discern scents others might miss.

That was one of the reasons he had survived so long despite his modest skills.

Now, with his sharpened senses and the ability to assess his opponents, Enkrid scanned his surroundings.

This village did not practice farming. Its location, situated atop a high plateau climbing along a mountain range, also showed no signs of slash-and-burn agriculture.

So, how were they sustaining themselves?

A few goats could be seen, but the village itself clearly housed several hundred families.

On the continent, to survive the threats of beasts and monsters, people had to live in close-knit communities.

Building wide fences and cultivating fields within them was considered basic common sense.

Even if an orchard was established separately, it would require its own fences and stationed guards.

Without these measures, everything would be surrendered to beasts and monsters.

Though colonies of monsters or beasts could still render such efforts useless, the first rule was always clear: gathering together ensured survival.

The population here seemed to easily exceed three or four hundred people.

Among them, the number of young people made up more than half.

No farmland.

They had very few livestock.

And the ratio of middle-aged and elderly individuals compared to the population was shockingly low.

Not to mention, wasn’t the village chief said to be a young and beautiful woman?

Nothing about this place felt ordinary.

And yet, there were no rumors about this village in the surrounding areas.

Wouldn’t at least a few traveling merchants have mentioned it?

For a village to conceal its existence and avoid becoming the subject of rumors, what steps would it need to take?

Enkrid pondered for a moment.

Beside him, Jaxen, slipping into his Krais-like persona, was chatting animatedly.

“They’re selling goat milk! Imagine the cheese you could make with that… wait, they’ve got cheese too!”

Cheese made from goat’s milk had a rich brown hue.

If stored properly, it became sweet and robust in flavor.

Jaxen eagerly highlighted this fact while pulling out a few bolts of fine silk. These were items he had prepared for his merchant disguise.

Watching this, Enkrid fell into thought again.

How does one keep a village from spreading rumors?

“By burying every visitor,” he mused.

If someone couldn’t be silenced by force? You could give them enough to placate them and send them on their way.

Was this why the village’s location remained undiscovered?

After all, this area lay west of Moder Guard and wasn’t a shortcut for any mountain routes.

Some might say this made it safe from bandits or brigands.

But, “Is that truly the case?”

The level of training in the local militia was anything but ordinary.

Enkrid stood idly, observing the people passing by.

The most peculiar sight was a woman in a wide skirt walking by.

“Hey, what are you hiding under that skirt?”

Her right leg and left leg carried noticeably different weights, and her stride was uneven.

Even Krais would bet his tongue that she had a blade long enough to pierce a human torso strapped to her right thigh.

“What an interesting place.”

“Try this.”

As soon as Enkrid muttered, Jaxen suddenly flicked something into his mouth.

Even with his heightened awareness, Enkrid only noticed the touch when it reached him.

Despite his acute sensitivity as a practitioner of martial techniques, Jaxen’s sleight of hand remained elusive.

The item in question was a piece of brown cheese, now in his mouth.

Rolling it around a few times, he discovered its taste. Rather than a cloying heaviness, it left behind a refreshing sweetness.

The cheese was well-made.

Clearly, someone here was skilled with their hands.

“A fine village!”

Krais—no, Jaxen—declared with exaggerated gestures. The cheese vendor smiled in response.

“Is that so?”

The vendor’s smile revealed a missing front tooth, causing a faint whistling sound to escape as he spoke.

Despite his seemingly simple smile, Enkrid could tell this man wasn’t ordinary either.

The movements of his hands revealed palms thick with hardened calluses.

Those were the kind of calluses only acquired through years of handling weapons.

Pretending not to notice, Enkrid turned away, only for Shinar, the fairy, to murmur beside him.

“Enki, this feels like a honeymoon to commemorate our union.”

On the continent, such trips were called “honeymoons.”

Of course, this was nothing of the sort. The fairy seemed to possess a tongue that sprouted needles if it wasn’t busy making jests.

Enkrid, with his usual composure, let it slide.

The atmosphere, outwardly unremarkable, betrayed subtle truths that only the discerning could notice.

Shinar, with her exceptional sensitivity, had already picked up on them.

Numerous eyes were watching them from the shadows—hidden in alleyways, rooftops, and cracks between windows.

“The inn serves a liquor made from goat’s milk. You must try it. There’s only one inn here, so you won’t get lost.”

“Thank you.”

Jaxen, beaming, handed over a few more coins. The vendor grinned widely again, his missing front tooth leaving a lasting impression.

After completing their lap around the village and heading toward the inn, Jaxen couldn’t stop expressing his admiration.

“Though small, this village is full of life!”

Enkrid silently translated Jaxen’s words in his head:

The village is disproportionately populated and highly trained.

“The architecture here is quite unique. Is this how houses are built in these parts?”

The inn is positioned perfectly for encirclement.

“And the women here exude such a healthy vitality!”

Even the women are well-trained.

“The sun is setting. We’d better turn in early if we want to start fresh at dawn. The people here don’t seem to sleep much at night.”

This place feels alive, but it hides sharp edges beneath its surface.

Moving recklessly at night might expose us. It would be better to act at dawn.

Jaxen’s ceaseless chatter had the unintended effect of making everyone dismiss his words as harmless banter.

“If Rem were here, this could have escalated into a real mess. These kind folks wouldn’t take well to rough people.”

If we cause a commotion, it will make achieving our goals difficult. The villagers will keep watching us.

Though not coded language, Jaxen’s remarks often seemed like it, with Enkrid being the only one able to decipher them.

His words were fragmented and scattered across their conversation, blending seamlessly.

After entering the inn, they requested a dinner made with goat’s milk liquor and unpacked their belongings in their room.

The two men shared a room.

“Why split the rooms like this?”

Shinar grumbled but relented when Finn tugged her arm and led her to the adjacent room.

Jaxen stood by the wooden-framed window. The hinges squeaked as he opened it, clearly in need of oiling.

He paused to look outside for a moment before turning back.

And in that instant, the essence of Krais vanished from him.

The possession had ended.

It was evident just from his expression.

The spirit of Krais had left Jaxen’s body.

“Hmm.”

Enkrid found himself marveling once again. Jaxen’s acting was good enough to rival the leads in theatrical performances occasionally seen in the capital.

If a playwright saw him, they’d likely go to great lengths to recruit him.

“What’s wrong?”

Catching Enkrid staring, Jaxen asked.

“Nothing.”

Enkrid had nothing more to add. What could he say to someone who did their job flawlessly?

But Jaxen wasn’t done.

In fact, he had plenty to say.

The number of things he had observed and deduced was staggering.

Internally, Enkrid couldn’t help but feel a twinge of admiration for the level of preparation these villagers had gone through.

Of course, Jaxen, as always, spoke casually.

“They’ll likely lace the food with sleeping agents.”

Jaxen predicted their actions, and though Enkrid found it hard to believe they’d resort to drugging them right away, he decided it wouldn’t hurt to proceed with caution.

“Shouldn’t we warn the next room?”

Jaxen shook his head lightly.

“They’ve got the fairy, don’t they?”

Their heightened senses wouldn’t miss such details. Could their taste buds be any less discerning?

That was why fairy cuisine was always deliberately mild.

With their sensitivity, even a light seasoning would bring out the flavors and aromas vividly.

Of course, this didn’t mean they weren’t connoisseurs.

With their keen senses, they were naturally drawn to fine music and exquisite food.

“They’ll manage.”

Jaxen spoke confidently, inspecting the bed and pulling a small bottle of oil from his belongings. He applied it to the creaky hinges, ensuring they wouldn’t make noise later.

It was meticulous work.

Moving silently didn’t rely solely on physical agility—it required preparation and foresight.

Preparation and anticipation.

A part of Enkrid’s mind was always occupied with swordsmanship, leaving room for thoughts of swords, knights, and dreams.

Among those occupying this mental space, some whispered:

“Isn’t this just like the structured form of a sword ritual?”

It was true. While it didn’t lead to a breakthrough, it was a moment to reflect on the craft of the sword.

While Enkrid lost himself in thought, Jaxen finished his preparations.

He oiled the hinges, checked under the bed, and even tapped along the ceiling with his fingernails.

Finally, he spread a large cloth above the bed, pinning it at the corners with needles to secure it.

Enkrid didn’t bother asking what he was doing.

For a moment, he was absorbed in his own world, preoccupied with practicing his mental sword swings.

Jaxen, relieved by Enkrid’s silence, found it easier to focus.

Explaining every little thing was tedious work.

“We make a surprisingly good team, don’t we?”

Jaxen thought about how crucial it was in their line of work to gauge how well a team worked together.

And he knew this was one of Enkrid’s strengths.

“Who wouldn’t get along with him?”

Enkrid got along effortlessly with Audin, Rem, and even Shinar.

That was the kind of leader he was.

So while Enkrid might not seem suited for this kind of work, in a way, he excelled at it.

As Jaxen moved, his mind painted a picture of what was to come.

These weren’t deductions made through intellect but rather experiences etched into his bones.

———————————————————————-
TL here! Thank you for reading!

For some extra chapters or if you want to show your support head here:

https://ko-fi.com/samowek

https://discord.gg/eXsm6WsQE6