Ragna stood outside alone, lost in thought as he reflected on his past.
"One thousand times. Don’t think about coming in until you’ve finished all of them."
One thousand strikes—it didn’t seem too difficult.
However, Ragna was curious.
‘Why do I have to swing the sword?’
His arms hurt. His body hurt. It wasn’t even enjoyable. Was it fun when he first grabbed the sword?
He couldn’t remember. It didn’t come to mind.
"Why? Why are you asking that? If you were born a man of the Jaun family, it’s something you must do."
They said it was natural. But could that really be a reason?
The same tasks repeated over and over.
Why must it be done?
"Uphold the prestige of the Jaun family."
Why should he do that?
"Become a knight."
Why should he become a knight?
"Kill."
Why must he kill?
Since childhood, Ragna had never found the path he was supposed to take.
Finding a path had been the hardest thing for him.
Why had it been so difficult?
Because he didn’t know the right path. Because he didn’t know any other path. Ragna had no destination.
That’s why he was always curious.
How could a person like Enkrid be like that?
Shouldn’t anyone, at some point, doubt the path they walk?
Is this the right path? Is it justified by reason? Is it a fitting purpose for life?
Ragna had never seen confusion in Enkrid’s eyes.
Anyone else would have wandered a bit, but not Enkrid.
He was always certain. That’s why Ragna wanted to ask.
Why does he want to be a knight?
***
Enkrid looked at Ragnar and scratched his chin out of habit.
The answer was clear.
But he wasn’t sure if that was the answer Ragnar wanted.
‘Actually, it’d be easier to handle Rem.’
Rem was flexible in his thinking. Though he was crazy, his mind bent rather than broke.
Audin was sturdy. His mental resilience was unshakable, far stronger than anyone else’s.
‘He seemed a bit unstable at first.’
Though Audin still occasionally wavered, his composure was like tempered steel—solid, even when shaken.
Saxon was indifferent. He was cold because he was indifferent. He rarely showed any enthusiasm, though sometimes you could see an intense fire hidden within his coldness.
These were the inner traits of the squad members Enkrid observed.
Then what about Ragnar?
‘He cuts through everything, but in reverse, he’s an easily broken blade.’
He was unstable and precarious. The man who best embodied the word "talent," yet used his talent in the most unstable way.
Enkrid didn’t pick his words carefully.
He didn’t even feel the need to struggle over them.
"Just tell me here."
He simply tapped his chest and spoke.
Ragnar stopped upon hearing those words. Had he forgotten to breathe for a moment? He held his breath for a long time.
As Enkrid silently observed, after a short while, Ragnar exhaled and then opened his mouth.
"Is that why you want to be a knight?"
When he was young, it was a dream; as he grew, it became a passionate goal. Once, it was a delusion, but now, it was the road he had walked and would continue to walk.
The knight who would end the war—his dream was a song of the minstrel.
If he had to put it into words, that was the reason.
But, if he dug deeper, it was something his heart led him to do.
Saving the child, protecting the weak, keeping promises—they were all the same.
Why would there be just one reason for wanting to become a knight?
So, this was the answer.
"Does my 'why' matter?"
He answered a question with a question. Ragnar thought about it again.
His eyes were on Enkrid, but his thoughts drifted elsewhere. Enkrid could tell through intuition.
Rem, Audin, Saxon, and Ragnar were all the same. They sought answers by looking at themselves. They all gained something. Esther was similar.
If Enkrid hadn’t had this kind of intuition, he wouldn’t have been able to become a reckless squad leader and would have probably ended up as a meal for the crows on some battlefield.
"I’ll go in first."
A pleasant question, a pleasant answer—Enkrid thought so.
While he entertained a thought that if he left Kraiss alone, Garett might start making plans to escape with him, he was interrupted by Ragnar’s voice.
"Once the battle is over, let’s have a duel."
"As much as you want."
"With half our lives on the line."
It was a serious suggestion.
"As much as you want."
Enkrid repeated the same answer and walked back into the tent.
Ragnar, left behind, quietly felt the explosion and surge that was happening inside himself.
It was like a volcano erupting.
Something boiling from his abdomen struck at his heart.
‘Why am I still alive?’
When the question of why he had to swing the sword touched on the meaning of his life, Ragnar lost his drive.
He had become a lazy fool. A lost sheep. If he hadn’t met a shepherd, he would have lived that way forever.
"Let’s have a duel."
Ragnar spoke to the air. There was no answer. The one who would respond had already gone into the tent.
Ragnar focused on the noise inside him.
The voice of his heart. The cry from his inner world.
‘Hey, do you hear it now?’
He heard it. The cry he had been ignoring—the reprimand was clear.
For some time now, he hadn’t enjoyed facing ordinary opponents.
‘It’s murder.’
It wasn’t a battle anymore. It was simply the act of killing people along a predetermined path. It was labor, not combat.
And yet, he didn’t feel guilty about the killings.
When you pick up a weapon, you should always be prepared for death.
The opponent also holds a sword, so it’s something you must accept.
Ragnar had thought he would die wandering in some nameless field, but life doesn’t always follow your expectations.
‘You idiot, are you starting to understand now?’
Hearing the reprimand inside himself, Ragnar smiled. He showed a grin.
"Ah, yeah, I get it."
He even spoke aloud.
Ragnar faced his desires through his inner voice. He acknowledged them. He found his path.
He wanted to fight a person who would make his heart race.
‘I want to fight someone who will push my limits.’
Meanwhile, Shinar, who had left the tent earlier, had heard their entire conversation from a distance.
The hearing of a fairy was like magic, making distances irrelevant.
She thought Ragnar’s question was strange, and Enkrid’s answer was just as strange.
And then, when Ragnar muttered to himself, she thought he was even stranger.
Everything was strange.
Yet, why did she feel joy as she listened to their conversation? It was an emotion she hadn’t felt in a long time.
Just listening made her feel warm inside. She couldn’t help but smile.
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It was a smile she would never show to anyone.
***
Looking at the map and assessing the terrain.
Kraiss sorted through the dozens of possible scenarios in his head and classified the most probable ones.
‘It’s still not enough.’
Our strength and the enemy’s information are both severely lacking.
‘To win? No, even just holding out would be a victory.’
If the palisade holds, that’s enough. Then, the answer is clear. Defense, not offense.
‘No, that’s wrong.’
If we defend, we’ll lose. Unless Azpen is a group of idiots.
If that’s the case, they would have attacked from behind already.
The thought kept circling in his mind.
"This is why it’s not going to work. Well, the best option is defense."
That was Garett’s battalion commander’s line. Nurat, a guard, muttered something from behind.
He couldn’t hear it.
It was hard to keep track of how many times this had happened in this battle. Escaping would be the easy way.
‘Why do we have to protect the city?’
Why shouldn’t we run?
The most important thing in life is one’s own life.
The second most important thing is Krona.
The third is Enkrid.
So, all of this was because of the commander.
"Ah, I don’t know."
Kraiss finally threw his hands up in surrender. The strategy meeting, which had started out of nowhere, had already gone on for hours.
Turning around, he noticed Enkrid had come back in. He had gone out but returned to listen to the conversation.
"The best we can do is defend, and wait for winter to pass, but does Azpen not know that and is just slowly crawling toward us?"
Garett asked.
"Yes, that’s why we judged the slow approach as a problem."
Kraiss answered. It was a process of repeating the same thing to find an answer.
What they said when they first met was this:
"What about their speed?"
"Slow."
"Not good."
"Not good."
Garett said it was slow, and Kraiss said it was bad.
Why was it bad?
Even though the advantage of defense was clear, the fact that they were moving slowly meant there was something more at play.
Enkrid, who had been watching quietly, asked.
"What’s the worst-case scenario?"
"Having a dragon burst out and spit fire right over our heads."
Kraiss answered without pause to Enkrid’s question.
"A dragon is too much. That’s impossible."
Nurat chimed in.
Garett didn’t stop them. Kraiss continued speaking.
"Suddenly, knight-level forces could appear."
"We’ve already tracked the movements of any knight-level forces," Garett replied this time.
"Given the speed of their march, we should be able to reach them in four to five days at most. In that time, we need to organize and send out reconnaissance units while holding our ground."
Enkrid also glanced at the map.
He assessed the terrain and committed it to memory. His memory had always been decent since childhood. And considering his experience as a pathfinder, memorizing a few routes was no trouble at all.
"What’s most needed right now?"
"Variables."
The answer came quickly. If you don’t know what’s inside the box, just shake it. Kraiss thought the same, but what exactly were the variables?
Did they need to sacrifice some troops to gauge the enemy’s reactions?
That would be idiotic, wouldn’t it?
So, what should they do? Strike the supply line? That wouldn’t work either. The enemy’s preparation was thorough, and that was the reason for their slow advance.
While they moved, they were literally inspecting every inch of the ground, probing and picking up even the smallest stones.
There’s an old saying on the continent: "When crossing a stone bridge, tap it first. If it sounds hollow, turn back." If something feels wrong, even if it takes more time, don’t proceed.
Thoroughness was more important than speed.
That’s what the enemy was doing right now.
So, the best they could do now was hold their ground, and the next step would be to disrupt them.
"You can sometimes see the intention if you observe the reaction."
"It’s a good method, but how easy is that?"
Garett crossed his arms and spoke from the opposite side.
Nurat added to his words.
"They move so slowly, without leaving any openings. We tried sending a ranger unit to strike their supplies, but it was futile. Not a single one of them made it back."
Enkrid nodded. What could he do that would be any different?
"We’ll need to rest and prepare."
That was the decision. Garett nodded in agreement.
"After this battle, could you tell me some stories?"
Once the meeting was over, Garett approached and spoke.
What kind of man was he? He wasn’t an ordinary one.
He was the one who established the fortifications at Green Pearl, and the moment Azpen showed up, he immediately reorganized the army. His preparation was solid and impressive.
"What stories do you mean?"
"Stories of the battles you’ve fought, what happened in the troublemaking squad, the moment you became a platoon leader, the battles you fought then, and everything that’s happened."
Garett’s eyes sparkled. He seemed excited, eager for the stories. Enkrid scratched his chin.
There would be a lot to do once the battle ended.
Surviving came first, though.
Enkrid also had things to think about.
If Azpen acted like this, what could he do to make the enemy commander suffer?
"Yes, later."
He answered vaguely while thinking of other things. Garett was satisfied with that and nodded.
Was it a good thing that Garett wasn’t a traitor?
Enkrid thought that his best move would have been to defect. Wouldn’t it have been easier to stand with Azpen and aim a blade at their side?
Enkrid, not hiding his thoughts, asked directly.
"If retreating and fleeing are the answer, and you’d be treated as a war criminal, why didn’t you defect? Azpen must have offered it."
It could be seen as a sensitive question, but Garett didn’t mind.
"Romance."
"What?"
"Romance is here."
What did that mean?
Garett’s dream was to be a poet. He was also quite skilled with melodies.
To him, everything that happened in Border Guard was material. It was a story. It was romance. It was his dream.
Especially Enkrid—he was like the protagonist of a play.
Garett was a hero enthusiast. That’s why he couldn’t help but like Enkrid, even if he did nothing.
The more he got to know him, the more Enkrid seemed to accomplish absurd feats one after another.
"Living like this and dying would be far more fun."
Garett laughed. In some ways, he was a madman just like Enkrid.
So, if he were to gain inspiration for a romantic poem today, he wouldn’t care if he died tomorrow.
Enkrid didn’t know all the details, but instinctively, he knew Garett wouldn’t betray them.
Had he drawn the sword of betrayal, °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° there would be no room for such a conversation.
"You’re like the commander."
"What’s that?"
"Here. This place."
Kraiss, from the side, poked his finger at his own head and spoke. The way he did it bothered Enkrid, so he elbowed Kraiss in the head.
"Ow!"
Kraiss grabbed his head and rolled around. Nurat, seeing that, came over to check if he was alright.
"I’m fine. Oh, it’s you, Nurat? Would you like to have a drink while we talk?"
Even in situations like this, Kraiss flirted with women. Yeah, that’s Kraiss. He wasn’t panicking or lost, so this was actually better.
Whether he was giving up or thought he had a chance, Enkrid couldn’t tell.
Enkrid stepped out of the tent. He was going to take a look at the fortifications that Garett had set up.
While observing the fortifications, he saw a group of soldiers gathered around.
They were cooking something over a fire, and the smell was mouth-watering.
As he approached, he saw long chunks of meat skewered on a large branch.
One side was brushing on some seasoning, while the other side was grilling.
The teamwork in preparing this meal was excellent.
"Sit with us."
Enkrid stepped in.
"What’s this? First time seeing you?"
"Joined today."
Most of the soldiers didn’t recognize Enkrid’s face.
This was the supply-focused battalion. Everyone was working with familiar hands, preparing something.
Garett’s unit was like this. His specialty was logistics, not combat.
"Give me one."
There was a female soldier among them, and she stared at Enkrid’s face directly. Her attitude was likely friendly. It was understandable—sometimes, Enkrid’s face became a weapon.
"Stop staring, you’ll wear it out."
The soldier, who was seasoning the meat, scolded.
"Hey, it’s my eyes. Let me enjoy it. I’ve been staring at you all day and getting tired of it."
"Shut up."
Their exchange was friendly. Even while bickering like that, their coordination showed they had a good relationship. Enkrid squeezed himself between them.
Though they had thick blankets on the ground, there was still a chill in the air.
Soon, he popped a piece of meat into his mouth.
It was snake meat. When he took a bite, it melted in his mouth.
"What is this?"
When he asked, the soldier who was grilling the meat smiled and replied.
"It’s good for men."
Enkrid judged that this group was better than the bread-baking battalion of Martai.
That’s the kind of taste it was.
Additionally, he’d noticed something else—Garett was excellent at managing his battalion.
‘He might not be good at fighting, but...’
The soldiers here were at ease. It was a well-managed unit.
Enkrid took a few more pieces of meat.
"You eat well."
The female soldier said. Enkrid only nodded. He was too busy stuffing meat into his mouth.