NOVEL NEXT Chapter 334 - What Was Inside His Head?
Chapter 334 – What Was Inside His Head?
Upon waking each morning, Enkrid practiced the Isolation technique with Audin. Afterward, he
would train his control over muscle movements, slowly swinging his sword with precise,
deliberate effort. This was followed by intense sparring sessions with Rem.
In between these activities, he made sure to eat meals, often snacking on herb pies. His
extraordinary level of physical activity required extraordinary sustenance. Eating, resting, and
bodily functions took up minimal time; the rest was devoted entirely to relentless training.
Once fully recovered, the first thing he did was destroy his barracks. After that, Enkrid focused
on observing and refining himself, continually honing his methods with a scholar’s scrutiny.
Whatever Krais had done behind the scenes seemed to work—no one came to bother him
anymore. He was grateful enough to declare he wouldn’t even take the Guild’s tribute payments.
But when Krais insisted he meet just one person, Enkrid reluctantly stepped outside the barracks.
To his surprise, he encountered a familiar face.
“Did you get even better-looking?”
The casual remark came with a smile. Enkrid recognized the speaker immediately—Leona
Rockfreed.
Leona was the leader of a trade guild and someone he’d once spent an entire night talking to,
eating herb pies, sipping pumpkin soup, and wandering through the market together. Though the
suggestion of becoming friends had seemed fresh and unexpected, it had planted the seeds of
genuine camaraderie.
Enkrid greeted her with a steady gaze. “How could I forget someone like you?”
Leona had always been striking. Now, dressed in sleek leather pants, a thick white shirt, and a
fur-lined vest, she exuded the confident air of a seasoned merchant. Even her shirt was made of a
fabric unfamiliar to Enkrid, which led him to idly consider its potential as gambeson lining. His
battle-focused mind found a way to think of combat even now.
Krais, standing off to the side, muttered, “What part of him looks better?”
Enkrid hadn’t shaved, his sweaty hair hung in unkempt strands, and his clothes clung to him like
rags. He didn’t even smell good.
For Krais, charisma was all about atmosphere—a blend of scent, demeanor, and attitude, not just
good looks. By that standard, Enkrid was far from charming. At best, he looked like someone
obsessed with swordplay.
“You should clean up,” Krais said, wrinkling his nose.
“Waste of time,” Enkrid replied without turning, his mind replaying a vivid memory.
A night spent in Leona’s company. No signals, no physical intimacy, just hours of conversation.
Yet from that rest, he had gained something invaluable—a newfound grasp of fluid motion, a
clearer understanding of linking footwork and sword swings, and a sense of speed.
It wasn’t what he learned that mattered, but how he learned it. The process itself had left an
indelible mark.
Now, seeing Leona again, he welcomed her presence.
“You really have changed,” Leona remarked, her eyes meeting his.
She wasn’t just being polite; as a merchant and a leader, her instincts were sharp. She could see
it—his presence had shifted. While her initial comment about his looks had been half a joke, the
other half had been genuine. Something about him had grown more defined, more commanding.
“Have I gained more wrinkles?” Enkrid quipped with a faint smile.
“Trying to tease me, are you?” she shot back with a grin.
Their exchange was easy and natural. Somewhere nearby, Krais signaled to the soldiers, who
quickly set up a table and chairs.
“You can’t just stand around chatting all day; you’re busy, after all,” Krais said, mimicking a
sword swing as if to emphasize how training consumed Enkrid’s life.
Leona chuckled. She knew this side of him well—during her previous time in Border Guard, she
had even watched some of his grueling sparring sessions.
Enkrid glanced at Krais. The big-eyed man always had an ulterior motive. Still, Enkrid sat down,
recognizing that Krais’s insistence carried purpose.
Leona, too, sat without hesitation, her eyes never leaving Enkrid. Behind her stood Mathis, her
familiar bodyguard, and another man—one Enkrid didn’t know.
The stranger was striking, with golden hair and piercing blue eyes, a figure who radiated charm
and carried himself with effortless poise. Even Krais had to admit, this man knew how to
command an atmosphere. Standing behind Leona, he offered a soft smile and an air of quiet
confidence.
“What brings you here?”
“Would you believe me if I said I came to visit a friend?”
“Not a chance.”
“Well, you’re right. It’s about guild matters. But, seeing a friend along the way is a nice bonus,
isn’t it?”
Leona smiled as she spoke, and Enkrid returned her smile. It wasn’t a bad meeting, though the
tea left much to be desired.
The tea served was notoriously awful—a brew specifically reserved for unwanted visitors, meant
to signal them to drink quickly and leave. And they served this here?
“On purpose?” Enkrid thought. Of course, it was deliberate. Krais’ intent was written all over it.
Even the way he avoided eye contact with feigned innocence had an oddly endearing audacity.
Enkrid chose to focus on Leona instead. They exchanged a few casual words about trade.
“It’s fascinating to see how famous you’ve become. I knew this would happen. I should’ve roped
you into the guild back then,” Leona teased.
“Does a guild need swordsmen that often?”
Her explanation carried an interesting tidbit. She elaborated that guilds generally fell into two
categories: stationary and itinerant. While many guilds combined aspects of both, the Rockfreed
Guild leaned heavily toward being itinerant, which brought its own set of challenges.
Since its founding, they’d primarily been a nomadic guild, largely because they had no
connections to rely on for a fixed base. It wasn’t so much a lack of resources as it was a lack of
mutually beneficial relationships.
Even if connections existed, potential allies likely attempted to swallow the guild whole or
betrayed them outright. This harsh reality shaped the Rocfried Guild’s current status.
Operating without a home base meant they had less influence in any specific region, which posed
significant limitations. Local partnerships were often necessary to secure profits, and the guild
had to rely on routes like the Rockfreed Trade Road, partnerships with groups like the Glacier
Rangers, the Black Leather Guild, and the Shepherds of the Wasteland.
Few guilds dared to deal with such entities, making Rockfreed’s position unique.
But could this itinerant model persist?
No, not indefinitely. Stability required a home base, particularly in uncertain times like these.
So, where should they establish themselves?
“A place undergoing rapid change.”
An area ripe with opportunities.
Given the kingdom’s unstable political climate and rising prominence of certain cities,
somewhere like the Border Guard was an ideal candidate.
Enkrid quickly pieced this together, though he refrained from saying it aloud. Leona, too,
avoided discussing it directly.
If Krais had summoned them to gain leverage in negotiations, it would have been a mistake. This
was a meeting between friends.
“Are you married?” Leona asked suddenly.
“No, I’m not.”
“And that fairy of yours?”
Leona leaned in with a mischievous whisper.
“She often jokes about being my fiancée.”
“Ugh, how boring.”
“What about you?”
“I’m married to the guild, you could say.”
“Is that so?”
“No, it’s a lie. I do have a fiancé, but I’m not sure about him yet. It’s more of a political match,
and if other plans work out, I might call it off.”
“Noted. So, you’re not here to seduce me, then?”
“Of course not! I don’t go back once I’m rejected. You missed your chance, and now you’ll just
have to live with the regret.”
“Fine, I’ll regret it occasionally.”
“Regret should be constant and deeply painful.”
“I’m too busy.”
“Swinging your sword all the time?”
“Exactly.”
Their banter was light and playful, leaving both of them chuckling. For a brief moment, Enkrid
felt like a carefree child again.
Leona had a way of putting people at ease, whether it was a talent honed as a merchant or
genuine empathy didn’t matter. What mattered was that the moment was pleasant.
Their conversation was interrupted when Krais chimed in abruptly.
“A political marriage? That’s ridiculous!”
Here? Now?
“Exactly,” Leona agreed. “I said I didn’t want it, didn’t I?”
“Exactly my point. Isn’t that right, Commander?”
“…About what?”
Krais nudged Enkrid’s foot and then, as if his throat were parched, took a sip of the horrid tea he
had vowed never to drink again.
Enkrid understood the situation well enough.
“A relationship built on mutual need,” he thought.
Such was the nature of the connection between Krais and Leona. The bad tea wasn’t a
coincidence; it was a message. This was a business meeting, plain and simple.
Rocfried needed a base of operations.
The Border Guard needed a shield against external troubles.
Their needs aligned perfectly.
Enkrid smirked inwardly. He could now see exactly why Krais had dragged him into this.
“Trying to use charm and friendship, huh?”
It was clear as day. The scheme was all too obvious.
“Your friend is right here, and you’re going to pull this kind of thing?”
Typical Krais, always using underhanded tactics when it suited him. And there was only one
reason he’d act like this.
“How much were you promised?” Enkrid asked flatly.
There was no doubt the lord of this land had made some sort of deal with him. Enkrid’s sharp
insight hit the mark. Yet Krais remained unfazed. When money was involved, Krais transformed
into a stellar actor, a shrewd tactician, and an exceptionally smooth talker.
“Excuse me? What are you implying?”
“You invited someone under the guise of friendship.”
If you were going to leverage someone’s friendship, you’d better be prepared to account for the
consequences. Enkrid wasn’t just any guest here; he was also Leona’s friend.
“I think you’re mistaken…” Krais began, but Leona interjected.
“Oh, don’t worry about it. Business should be clean and straightforward.”
Her words subtly reinforced her stance: she wouldn’t fall for cheap tricks, nor would she stoop to
using them herself.
“I’ll be leaving now,” Enkrid announced, rising from his seat.
There was nothing more for him to do here.
“See you next time,” Leona said with a cheerful smile, raising her hand in a casual goodbye.
Enkrid took her hand, brushed his lips lightly across the back of it, and turned to leave. His
actions were the epitome of decorum—something he had picked up over the years, even as a
mercenary. Once, he had made a fair living escorting noblewomen to parties, and the etiquette
had stuck with him.
“Salons really are his element,” Krais muttered under his breath as he watched.
Before Enkrid could take another step, someone else approached.
“You, there.”
It was Mathis.
Despite his attempt to maintain composure, his astonishment was evident. The rumors he’d heard
about Enkrid had been difficult to believe. But seeing him in person…
Mathis had met Enkrid before, but the man standing before him now exuded a confidence and
presence that was unmistakable. This wasn’t mere bravado; it was the aura of a true master.
“Would you spar with me?” Mathis asked.
Enkrid, still armed from his earlier training, nodded. His three swords—his gladius, a
silver-edged longsword, and the fiery blade called Spark—rested at his waist.
“Anytime,” he replied simply.
Leona made no move to stop them. She understood Mathis well enough to know that something
had stirred him deeply.
Ting.
Their blades met in a cautious exchange, each warrior gauging the other’s strength. Three times
their swords clashed lightly, a mutual understanding to warm up.
Then, Mathis struck in earnest.
His attack was swift, calculated—a move worthy of a recognized master in the city.
“City-level expert? What nonsense. A blade cuts all the same,” Rem had once scoffed. But even
he would have acknowledged Mathis’s skill.
Yet, the moment their swords met, Mathis realized Enkrid’s movements weren’t any slower than
his own.
He pressed down harder, attempting to overpower his opponent’s blade with his technique. But
Enkrid’s response was quicker.
With a seamless motion, Enkrid deflected Mathis’s blade and slipped inside his guard.
It was a masterful maneuver—part parry, part counterattack—executed with such fluidity it
resembled the strike of a snake. For a brief moment, Mathis thought the blade might actually
bend as it darted toward him.
He stopped, staring at the silver edge hovering just shy of his throat.
No effort wasted. No room for doubt.
“Impressive,” Mathis admitted, though the admission carried a heavy dose of resignation.
Compared to the last time he’d seen Enkrid, this felt like facing an entirely different person. The
gap in skill was undeniable, and Mathis knew that even at his best, the outcome wouldn’t have
changed.
“Enough,” Enkrid said curtly, sheathing his blade.
He turned away without another word, confident that Mathis would rise again on his own.
Mathis wasn’t a knight but a warrior of the merchant band. He would fulfill his duties without
needing further encouragement.
Behind him, Krais began discussing terms with the merchants.
“Now that everything’s sorted, here’s what Border Guard can offer, and here’s what we need from
you.”
The whole charade had been Krais’s idea from the start. By involving Enkrid, he had forced both
parties to lay their cards on the table.
It was cunning, but also fair in its own way. Neither Leona nor the merchants could afford to lose
face by breaking trust in front of a mutual friend.
“His scheming really is second to none,” Enkrid thought as he walked away.
Within a month, the Rockfreed Merchant Company had established a foothold in Border Guard.
Despite resistance from local traders, they navigated the challenges with remarkable efficiency,
negotiating compromises where necessary and asserting dominance where they could.
During that time, Enkrid trained relentlessly.
Day after day, he practiced as if stuck in an endless cycle. Unlike most, he could endure the
monotony of repetition without complaint.
But this time, there was a difference—he could feel himself improving.
It wasn’t just training for the sake of it. The progress was real.
“Enjoying yourself?” Rem asked during one of their sparring sessions.
“Of course,” Enkrid replied with a grin.
If he didn’t enjoy it, how could he keep going like this?
Rem couldn’t help but agree.
Their commander was truly mad.
Just moments ago, Enkrid had narrowly avoided a fatal blow from Rem’s axe. And yet, here he
was, laughing it off as though it was all part of the fun.
The boatman, who had been watching from the sidelines, finally spoke up.
“What on earth is inside that head of yours?”
It was a rhetorical question, of course.
After all, what else could occupy the mind of a man who spent an entire month doing nothing but
swinging his sword?