Chapter 282: The Black Blades Excel at Sabotage (3)

Why Did Marcus Have to Obey the Summons from the Capital? “The bastards from my own house should’ve backed me up, shielded me in a time like this. Instead, they threw me under the damn carriage, made me the scapegoat. Damn politicians.” That was Marcus’s own remark. For a moment, Enkrid wondered if Marcus was inadvertently insulting himself, but now wasn’t the time to point that out. “The Border Guard’s expansion - raising warhorses, training archers - looks like a sign of rebellion to the capital. ‘Why are you gathering military strength in the North? And why is it a noble from a prominent central house leading it?’ That’s what they’re asking.” Enkrid didn’t bother asking which one. Marcus had been planning to reorganize the North under the Border Guard’s structure. But to the capital, it looked more like: What are you planning to do with all that power you’re amassing? And when he answered, ‘I’m trying to govern the North properly,’ They responded with: ‘Doesn’t seem that way. Come up here and explain yourself. Weren’t you part of a family sworn to protect the capital? Come back. We’ll even give you an administrative post.’ ‘Huh? So you really are plotting rebellion? You’re turning this down?’ “I told you, it’s not a rebellion.” ‘Then come to the capital. Talk it out. And stop harassing the neighboring territories. You’re just defending, right? Then they won’t touch you either.’ “If I leave, they’ll pounce the moment I’m gone. I’ll go after I’ve settled things here.” ‘See? You are rebelling. Traitor.’ ‘Then come to the capital.’ Strip away the pleasantries, the titles, the filler, and that’s basically how the conversation went. Marcus resisted, but it was useless. He was forced to return to the capital. “This isn’t over. There’s someone pulling the strings behind all this, and I’ll bet anything it’s those damned bandits.” Marcus was a natural politician. But why come all the way here to tell Enkrid this? Before Enkrid could voice the question, Marcus spoke first. He pushed off from the pillar he had been leaning against and stood upright. Straight - backed, rigid, as if standing at attention. For a moment, it felt like he was drawing in the very air around him. Then, he steadied his breathing. “Help Graham protect the territory.” It wasn’t an order. It sounded like a request. Marcus exhaled, his expression oddly deflated, then muttered: “…I wasted my time worrying.” On his way here, he had been mulling over a few things. Would Enkrid really stay? Would it be better to abandon this place and drag him to the capital instead? Or would he just leave to follow his own path? Damn those bureaucratic bastards. Marcus wanted to curse the rotten nobles and officials all over again. Not that he didn’t do that regularly. But today, he wanted to put a hole in each of their foreheads. Hire an infamous assassin whose name was etched in history books. Like Red Dot - a killer so precise he left a crimson mark right before delivering the fatal shot. Or was it Scarlet Point? Whatever. Either way, he wanted to cut the rot out and burn it away. But he wasn’t going to sit there quietly and play nice. He’d hunt down every bastard manipulated by the Black Blades. But to do that, this place had to remain intact. The enemy had set their sights on the Border Guard. So what was Marcus supposed to do? Leave the fighting to those who are best at it. And focus on what he was best at. Before leaving, he decided he needed to write a few more letters. He had to prepare for every possibility. And, naturally, his thoughts drifted to the biggest wildcard - Enkrid. Ever the politician, he had come half out of doubt, half to persuade him. But the answer had come too easily. Enkrid had simply accepted it. No hesitation, no overblown sense of duty - just a simple confirmation that he would stay. That was just the kind of man he was. Marcus didn’t know what fire burned inside Enkrid’s chest, but it was there. It smoldered beneath the surface, never fully revealing itself. If Enkrid had truly wanted to be a knight, he would’ve gone to the capital ages ago. He would’ve fought tooth and nail to join an order. And yet, despite having Will, he remained here. What kind of knight do you want to be? Next time they met, Marcus wanted to ask him that. For now, he felt… steadier. The tight knot in his chest loosened. Even though he couldn’t fully explain why, even though he didn’t know exactly what would happen next - I won’t go down that easily. Graham, the First Company Commander, could train himself to the brink of death and command with every ounce of skill he had, but - For some reason, he didn’t inspire as much confidence as a single word from Enkrid. Is it just a difference in skill? No. Marcus knew, instinctively. Enkrid had become a terrifying swordsman. He was walking the path of a knight. He had even awakened Will. Back at his office, Graham was already waiting for him. “Apologies. We won’t have time for a proper appointment ceremony, and honestly, I have no idea what that bastard in charge of the Green Pearl garrison is thinking. If he’s turned against us, things will get tricky.” “Don’t worry. I won’t lose to some bandit scum.” Graham was a skilled soldier, a solid man - So why didn’t those words reassure him as much as Enkrid’s simple ‘Yes’? Marcus shook his head slightly and patted Graham’s shoulder. The situation was turning into a complete mess, and yet he had to leave. It was a frustrating feeling. But it only strengthened his resolve. He would see this through. And every single bastard responsible - he would cut their throats himself. "The Cult has surfaced in the south of Martai!" It was the talk of every merchant and traveler passing through the region. A so - called bishop of the Cult had appeared in the south, leading a horde of beasts. Rumors were spreading that a man known as the Wolf Bishop - a high - ranking figure within the Cult - had mobilized an army. And, of course, it wasn’t just a rumor.