Eternally Regressing Knight Chapter 805

805. Libra is always fair.

“oh.”

The Marquis of Baisar reached out. He was struggling to even get up on his own.
The butler who had been by Kin’s side approached, took his hand, and helped him up. Just getting up caused the Marquis’ breathing to quicken slightly.

“Keep going!”

As the Marquis awoke, coughing, the butler brought a large metal bowl and placed it over his mouth. The Marquis coughed, almost as if he was going to choke, and spit out phlegm. Black and yellow phlegm was mixed with red. After the coughing stopped, Keane wiped the Marquis’ mouth.

“after.”

The Marquis, finally catching his breath, let out a sigh. Though he wasn’t even close, Encred could smell the scent of death on his breath.
It was musty, stale, and damp.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Why me?”

Encred didn’t waste time. It would be rude to the Marquis to waste time on trivial matters in this current conversation.

“You know what I’m doing.”

For a dying man, the Marquis’s gaze was sharp and unwavering. It was a far cry from the gaze of the old man I’d seen before, the one so senile he couldn’t even recognize his own wife.
A giant of a noble family that dominated an era, that was the Marquis of Baisar.
Sometimes he assisted the king, sometimes he opposed the royal family, yet he ultimately protected his family.
The Marquis’s mouth opened, filled with the weight of his life. The power in his voice pushed away the messenger who had come to visit him.

“Please marry Kin. It’s my last wish before I die. It would be even better if you could give me beautiful grandchildren.”

Encred was almost fooled for a moment. He even suspected the old man was going crazy, but that was definitely not the case.
A moment ago, he had been coughing as if he was going to die and spitting up blood, but now the corners of his mouth were slightly raised.

“Nongilse.”

The Marquis chuckled, watching Encred, who was taken aback by the unexpected blow. Just hearing the laughter made me wonder if he was really a dying old man.
If the Marquis’s previous trick were to be judged by swordsmanship, it would be the pinnacle of deception.
As the Valensic Mercenary Sword put it,
risking one’s own life to deceive is the pinnacle of deception.
Pushing a lie forward with such momentum that it seems like the truth. Just like the old man just now.
It was an unexpected blow. It was even more so because he thought he was used to such jokes. For a brief moment, Encred had discovered his own vulnerability in the previous situation.

‘If Saxon had seen this, he would have complained.’

They say those who are confident they won’t let their guard down are the easiest to kill.
Perhaps, after recent events, their confidence has become excessive? While not omnipotent, perhaps they’ve become confident they can handle almost anything
. But you can’t anticipate everything. This holds true in both combat and normal situations.
A thorn that burrows into a chink in your insight can always pierce your heart.

‘If you’re fooled, you’ll be fooled anyway.’

So, we must acknowledge that sometimes we may be deceived. We must recognize that we may be struck by an unexpected blow.
Even in those moments, we must respond. Even if we are flustered or surprised, we must react.

‘What you need is training.’

Knights are those who are called disasters. Through this training, they gradually progress from the ordinary to the extraordinary. And this continues even after becoming a knight.

‘If you don’t want to be half-baked, you can’t just swing your sword well.’

It was nothing more than a small, lighthearted joke, but Encred came to a realization. Perhaps it was the experience he had accumulated since the previous battle at Thornwood Fortress, including the Balrog. His conversation with Luagarne also likely had an influence.
The concept of combat skills emerged in Encred’s mind. It was also an extension of his previous realization. “Relax and get well soon,” he said. “After all, it’s people who use it.”

“You’re quick to find your composure.”

The Marquis said. Encred’s thoughts were different from those of ordinary people. Thoughts that seemed to stretch on for a long time ended in the blink of an eye.

“I was surprised.”

The Marquis nodded at Encred’s answer.
It wasn’t a joke intended to lighten the mood. The Marquis wanted to see how Encred had changed.
He wanted to see if he was still pursuing his own path, powerless and all, or if he had changed.
He had attempted to do so by swaying his opponent’s emotions. Encred was secretly impressed.
As the saying goes, even a worn sword remains sharp.
He wasn’t a knight, and if they fought, he could be killed with a single finger. But the stamina of a man who had lived his entire life as a noble and held power was formidable.
He caught Encred’s moment of confusion, and then noticed his composure.
And then the Marquis spoke.

“Don’t forget that the current unsettling activity in the capital is the work of the South, and they are preparing for war at any moment. I told Your Majesty, but I’m even more certain that you will remember my words.”

It was as if he had anticipated that she would ask why he was telling her about preparing for war.
Was it a kind of insight born from the intersection of insight and intelligence, or an intuition honed through experience?
The Marquis led the conversation with an answer that transcended the process of questioning and answering.
The undercurrent of the subversive movements was the work of the south, and in the south lay the great nation of Lichenstätten.
Lichenstätten, a nation bordering the Demon Realm, fought countless demons and beasts, incomparably greater than those of the central continent.
And Encred couldn’t smell the Marquis’s scent she had just smelled. The Marquis spoke with eyes that were now reminiscent of his robust youth, rather than the damp, gritty scent of death.

“Don’t let those damn Southerners get you down. They’ll hurt your pride.”

The author, once renowned as a royal noble, speaks. The story is long and seemingly endless, but the Marquis stops here.

“Just watch me die.”

It was a counterattack to the joke he’d made earlier. Kin looked at Encred in surprise.
Could such a joke be acceptable to a dying old man? Was this kid even a human? His gaze seemed to suggest Rem had actually been wearing Encred’s mask.
Conversely, the Marquis chuckled again.

“I have an accurate eye for people.”

Then he waved everyone off.

“Go and see.”

He came here because he wanted to see me before he died. There was nothing more to say. Though that was probably true, Encred opened his mouth before turning away.

“Is it resentment? Is it protection?”

Was it the knight’s keen intuition, or was it Encred’s exceptional intuition?
The Marquis thought he hadn’t revealed his true feelings, but Encred read something and spoke. The Marquis chose his words carefully.

“Let’s say both. I’m greedy. I’d also like to add that there are many beautiful girls besides Kin.”

Was the Marquis of Baisar really this eloquent?
Come to think of it, Marcus wasn’t one to be easily outdone by words. They say there’s no child like a dog under a tiger, so perhaps this is the Marquis’ true nature.
Or perhaps it was his youthful, energetic self.
Time, like drops of water, pierces through rocks and changes people. As time passed, with more things to protect and less freedom of speech, the Marquis must have become more cautious.
Yet, when the moment called for, he must have made bold choices to reach the present.
What does the Marquis look like after shedding that facade? It’s difficult to define in a single word. Encred left the room with a strange feeling. The Marquis
gazed outside with an indifferent expression.
Perhaps it was just greed, but looking at Encred reminded him of someone who had died long ago.

“I will protect you.”

It was a dead man’s habit. He was the sword that protected the Marquis, and a friend from his childhood. He was born with a natural talent for swordsmanship.
Their personalities and appearances were different, but why did he come to mind?

‘Never give up.’

That friend was the same. Had the Marquis’s family ever been without a single turmoil? There were many. Far too many.
A single harsh wind shook the family’s business, and the raging waves devoured people. At the center of that storm, my friend took up arms with a single sword.
Fifty years had passed since then. The southern front had been pushed back, and the royal family even mobilized the private armies of the nobility to fight. My friend died in that battle.
If it had been a fair and honorable battle, it wouldn’t have been unfair.

“This was a duel.”

The sword of Baisar spoke.

“No, this is war.”

That’s what the opponent replied.
It’s hardly cowardly. The real defeat stemmed from a lack of skill, a lack of national power, and a lack of talent. It
was a time when everything was lacking.
If it weren’t for the extraordinary genius of Cyprus, Naurilia would have collapsed.
The damage inflicted then slowly withered the kingdom of Naurilia, and over time, Azpen’s eyes became fixed on it.
Time is a cruel thing, though.

‘Libra is always fair.’

After all those years of hardship, the goddess of fortune placed a heavy weight on one side of the scale.
Now facing that weight, the Marquis lay down with a satisfied expression. He would sleep soundly tonight.
He revealed a part of his secret he had never told anyone. The Marquis lay down in peace. He relaxed.

“father.”

Kin calls him.

“Go to the Border Guard and don’t come back.”

They say you can bite all ten fingers without them hurting, but there was one that hurt even more.
He took in the child his friend’s wife left behind and placed him in Baisar’s arms. He treated him like any other child, but perhaps that hurt more. Couldn’t the Marquis know that?
He was a wise old man.
I knew everything, but I knew it was all he could do.

“Go. Keen. My daughter.”

Keen burst into tears. He could see his father’s breathing fading. Instead of the strength that had temporarily banished the Grim Reaper, all that remained was an old man who had accepted death.

“Yes, Father.”

The Marquis closed his eyes. “Tonight, I will have very pleasant dreams.”
He closed his eyes and a pitch-black darkness rolled in, then bright sunlight, a meadow, white clouds, and a thatched cottage in the distance appeared.
As he had wished, his friend came out to see him off at the front of the meadow.

“How have you been?”
“Can’t you treat me like you did when you were little?”
“Should I?”

Beyond that, the Marquis met everyone he had lost. His wife, who had died of illness long ago, appeared and smiled. Her expression seemed ready to accept any complaint. It was a kind smile. She, who had always listened to his stories, was here before him.
The Marquis walked between his close friend and his wife.

* * *

Encred turned around and thought about the Marquis of Baisar and the Marquis.

‘Force is essential to establish oneself as a noble.’

There was also a story that Marcus spilled.

“Even now, the Marquis’ private soldiers possess outstanding skills, but they are not at their peak. Rather, they are in decline. Their true peak was when my father was young.”

It wasn’t difficult to deduce what he meant.

‘He had a knight’s record.’

It wouldn’t have been common. But because of that knightly history, the Baisar family would have become a marquis.
Perhaps the reason Marquis Baisar feels this regret now is because of that knightly history’s death?
It’s pure intuition, but it’s incredibly accurate.
Of course, Encred, who deduced it, hadn’t thought about it deeply.
And no one else could have possibly seen into Encred’s inner thoughts like this except for Kreis. And if Kreis were here, he would have been incredibly frustrated.

“Why waste your good brain? Huh? You should use it to your advantage and prepare for what needs to be prepared for.”

Of course, if Christ were to say something like that, Encrid would take it easy.

“You should do that.”

It wasn’t a wrong statement, so Christ’s mouth snapped shut.
He walked out of the mansion, the rain falling down, his voice thumping.

“Please take the carriage.”

The servant came and said.

“are you okay.”

Encred refused, walking and continuing his thoughts. The
Marquis is in pain. Who doesn’t?
Those who live on the continent are always surrounded by war, monsters, and evil spirits.

‘The end and the end of the war.’

It was a song the residents of the Demon Realm had once sung. Encred hummed it as he walked back to the training ground. Even though it was past noon, the sky was dark. It was cloudy.

“You’re very busy, very busy. You didn’t meet a woman, did you?”

As I entered the training ground, Asia greeted me.

“Please teach me a lesson, Commander Encred.”

Asia continued, her voice trembling. Encred nodded.
His arm was now more or less intact. It wasn’t a life-threatening fight, so sparring wouldn’t be too much of a stretch.

“Woman? Hmm, is it the scent of an old man and a woman?”

Shinar, who had recovered a little, sat on a chair on one side of the training ground and pretended to sniff.

“Yes, I know you visited the Marquis.”

From one side of the training ground, Lawford spoke. The perceptive fairy listened and looked at him with indifferent eyes. That was the glare.

“It’s useless grass.”

That was just a curse.
Lawford just listened and brushed it off. Upon hearing that, Pell challenged Lawford to a duel.

“Hey, weed, come at me.”
“Who’s a weed?”
“A weed is a useless grass, not a lawn?”

The rain continued to fall in pitter-patter. It was a light, yet lingering, rain that seemed destined to last. It was a muggy, muggy day, and sweat flowed freely even when standing still.
Even on such a day, the Knights and the Royal Guard, everyone was diligently training. Where once they had wielded their swords alone, now they were all together.

“You shouldn’t push yourself too hard yet.”

Audin, standing beside Sinar, speaks.
Encrid responds nonchalantly.

“Asia is a knight. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

It means that a light match will suffice.
Sometimes, simple facts can become violent.

Crack.

Asia clenched her teeth. The determination on her face, her jaw muscles exposed, was truly fierce.