Chapter 413 - The Grand Coronation

Chapter 413 - The Grand Coronation

Perhaps because of the last curse the Count had called, Enkrid noticed a dull smell lingering on his body.

"Please prepare hot water and a bath, no attendants necessary."

Upon returning to the palace, Enkrid washed, ate, and went to sleep.

Even with Rem, Ragna, Audin, and Jaxen, it made no difference.

After a deep sleep, it was later when the healer approached, intending to treat everyone's bodies, but all of them refused.

"I know my body best," Rem said as if he was bitten.

"It is the punishment given to me," Audin said, not different from the others.

Ragna waved his hand, declining, and Jaxen pretended to be uninjured.

The healer murmured that it was the first time he had encountered patients so uncooperative and was about to leave.

As he turned to leave, the healer bowed his head toward Enkrid.

"Thank you."

It was an unexpected statement. However, the healer's demeanor was serious.

Enkrid had yet to clearly comprehend the task he had undertaken.

The schedule had been too exhausting.

There was plenty to do after the battle. Preparing for war was a bigger task than the war itself, but even more so was the aftermath.

A general who fights well can win a battle, and one who prepares well can win a war.

And the general who handles the aftermath properly is the one who wins the war.

This said that handling the situation after battle was critical.

The same applied now.

Handling the remaining Count's troops was an issue, as was retrieving the lost equipment, and the camp needed to be dismantled.

Once all that was done, marching awaited.

Shouldn't they return to the royal palace?

Even with the joy of victory, it was impressive to have completed this in three days.

While Enkrid might not have been familiar with battlefield command, it was Marcus' skills in these areas that stood out.

He had handled all of this excellently.

It was also thanks to Krang, who didn't indulge in useless victory speeches.

"It's time for everyone to rest. Do you think it's important to listen to a speech from someone who only watched from behind? Instead of giving that nonsense, it would be better to wrap another bandage around a wounded soldier's arm."

In fact, Krang openly cared for the wounded, without hiding his face, and those who recognized him as the prince and future king were rare.

Not many soldiers even knew his face.

Though he had the skill to boost morale with speeches, Krang felt that wasn't the priority now.

He proved his words through actions.

After handling the battlefield, only then did Enkrid and the others return.

As the healer expressed his gratitude, Enkrid, lost in thought, asked, "Do you know me?"

"My son went to the battlefield," the healer said, limping.

"If it weren't for my leg, I would've gone too."

The healer turned, his gratitude for Enkrid not for saving his son, for he had died.

No words could bring back the dead, and the healer's heart ached with grief.

However, there was a small consolation.

Had the battle ended in defeat, the death of his son would have been in vain. That was the only small comfort.

Everyone was caught up in the joy of victory—the victory in the civil war, survival from an impossible battle, and the joy of those who had lived.

Rumors spread about the grand coronation. Craftsmen gathered, planning to build a structure to commemorate it in the city center. Soon, a festival would begin, and once everything was settled, there would be rewards and daily feasts.

Yet, some had lost their families and loved ones.

"May they rest in peace."

The healer thought of his son and left. Enkrid watched him leave, the words that the son had died on the battlefield echoing in his ears.

Esther, too, was exhausted, not even leaving Enkrid's arms in her panther form.

Enkrid woke from a deep sleep and, as usual, stretched his body using the Isolation technique.

Even if they were to give out rewards, the situation around them had to be more or less settled first.

That would take at least ten days.

Enkrid continued his usual routine.

He went to feed Wierd-Eyes, mixing meat and vegetables instead of the usual grain, and met with Andrew and the remaining trainees.

There were now four trainees.

"One of them?"

"His leg was severed. Even with divine power, a lost leg can't grow back."

One of the trainees had lost a leg. The battle had been fierce. As Enkrid fought through the waves of ghostly soldiers, the others weren't idle.

Enkrid nodded.

These were individuals who chose to fight, and it was right to respect that decision.

"He said he wishes he were a Frog," Andrew added calmly.

Neither Enkrid nor Andrew were shaken by such things. Their lives had not been easy.

"Never again," Andrew said, staring into the distance. After a moment, he continued, as if making a vow to himself rather than to Enkrid.

"I won't watch my people get hurt."

Enkrid nodded.

The trainee who had lost his leg had been offered a chance to become a butler candidate.

He didn't look particularly gloomy.

"I think I'll be fine once I get used to the prosthesis. It's better than dying," he said, showing his tough spirit.

Enkrid patted his shoulder and turned away.

"Thanks to you, I lived."

"You lived because you fought well," the trainee replied, and Enkrid responded in kind. It was sincere. He believed the trainee had saved his own life with his hands. The trainee had mentioned his fiancée.

Enkrid had briefly seen her. She seemed strong.

"If you lose a leg, what? I'll feed you!" she said boldly.

She was a strong woman.

Krang was far too busy to be seen. Marcus was also nowhere to be found.

A few days later, Aishia visited, but she wasn't in a condition to train seriously.

When she hinted at this, Enkrid cautiously asked, "Don't you have anything to do other than fight?"

Aishia looked surprised.

"Is there nothing else? I've filled the place with my people, so no one will complain. There are some foolish nobles, but they'll handle themselves. We're preparing for the coronation. It needs to be done grandly," she said, expressing her frustration.

Enkrid thought of Krang. He was a broad and great person, but people change. Hadn't he seen people change before?

He had seen mercenaries who had once risked their lives for their friends stab their comrades for a gold coin.

He had seen a father throw his adopted son to monsters to survive.

That man had been a good person at first. It was just that the situation had changed him.

Wasn't it said that after twenty days surrounded by monsters, anyone could change?

Enkrid had once challenged that man to a duel.

He lost, but he killed him. That was one of his past experiences.

So, Krang, too, could change.

The grand coronation.

It was time. They had won, and the victory herald had been sent. With the victory in the civil war, Krang was the rightful heir to the throne.

Enkrid felt like returning to the Border Guard.

The sky was dimming, and it looked like rain was coming again.

"How is your body?" Aishia asked.

"Not bad. I don't think I can risk my life in a fight, but a light spar should be fine."

A proper fight was impossible, but a light spar should be doable. Rest was better, but right now, he felt like moving his body more.

Aishia nodded and took out a wooden sword.

"You said it was a light sparring match?"

Enkrid glanced at it and replied, "It's a wooden sword, isn't it?"

"Light sparring," Aishia repeated, tilting her head.

Enkrid, instead of the broken silver sword, took out a longsword he had picked up, which had been sharpened for two days.

"Where's the light in that?"

Aishia aimed her sword at him, and Rem, Ragna, Audin, Jaxen, and Fel all watched. Pell, after the fight, immediately introduced himself and inserted himself into the group.

"I'm Fel, the shepherd of the wastelands."

He had light brown hair and a slightly taller stature than Krais, with a body that was quite well-trained, his posture sharp.

"I saw your performance on the battlefield."

Everyone looked at him with a 'So what?' expression, but Fel's face was unfazed.

Shepherds were generally bold, but Fel, among the wasteland shepherds, was one who insisted on using a sword.

"Let me observe," he said confidently. Enkrid recognized him and was a bit surprised, but nodded nonchalantly.

Honestly, Enkrid was somewhat intrigued.

'That shepherd from before.'

His posture had changed, and the atmosphere around him had shifted. It was proof that his skills had grown.

As Fel watched, the light sparring ended. Having already seen the battle, Fel thought, 'Impressive.'

To be honest, Fel wondered if anyone had greater talent than him.

That night, they had sparred, and although he had been pushed back, he believed he had caught up.

But now, the opponent's sword had become even harder and sharper. It was far beyond what it had been then.

The growth was undeniable.

More than anything, seeing that sword made Fel's blood boil. He was naturally combative, but this was different.

He was almost itching to fight right then, with his hand hovering near his sword.

"...When will your body be fully healed?"

Fel asked.

"You're last, kid."

"Heh, brother. You should respect the order. There's no order when meeting the Lord, but here there is."

"Go drink some more milk."

"..."

"You'll need to pass by me first, then?"

Rem, Audin, Ragna, Jaxen, and Dunbakel followed in that order. Teresa quietly observed every movement of Enkrid's.

Jaxen, silent for a while, threw a glance at them.

"...Alright, let's do it like that."

Fel couldn't insist any longer. The words from the others were not to be taken lightly.

It was hard to gauge the skill of Dunbakel, the beastkin.

Was he going to lose? He never even considered the possibility.

The best food was always saved for last. He'd knock them all down and then face Enkrid. It wouldn't be bad.

Fel trusted in his own talent.

He thought that in at most six months, he'd catch up to all of them.

Everyone had their own illusions.

After the sparring with Aishia, Enkrid still felt his body creaking here and there.

Although he had recovered quickly, he wasn't at full strength yet.

Five days later, when he had fully recovered, he was called to the palace.

"You must attend."

It was none other than the Marquis of Okto who had come in person.

"Are you not busy? Coming all the way here just for me?"

The Marquis of Okto was surprised that the man before him didn't recognize his own position.

"Realize your position."

Enkrid had now become someone even the Marquis could not casually speak down to.

If one were to choose a hero who led the civil war to victory, who would it be?

Anyone would name Enkrid.

Not just a national hero, but a Demon Slayer.

He was someone the king himself called a friend and showed greater skill than any semi-knight in the order.

And what about his subordinates?

'They are all incredibly skilled.'

Normally, people of such skill should be in the knight order, right?

But they were all simply connected to Enkrid.

The politically sharp Marquis of Okto understood instinctively.

If he lost Enkrid, he'd lose everyone.

He knew some nobles had already tried to approach them covertly.

Naturally, they had all failed.

"You want me to take your gold and swing an axe for it? Don't you know what my nickname is? Go look it up."

The noble killer, Rem.

He boldly proclaimed that he was a man capable of cutting off a noble's head, sending chills down the spine of every noble.

He was a madman.

Jaxen was nowhere to be found.

Audin smiled and deflected the matter with words about following the teachings of the gods.

Ragna lightly ignored all summons.

Only Rem and Audin had met with the Marquis.

"But why am I not called?" Dunbakel expressed a small curiosity, but no one answered.

Though the Marquis of Okto was not without greed.

'There's no need to stir up bad impressions for no reason.'

The Marquis was wise.

Enkrid honestly didn't care.

"A coronation ceremony will be held."

The Marquis's words made Enkrid nod.

Would his friend have changed?

The friend who once looked beyond the throne and crown, had he become intoxicated with them?

Enkrid recalled the healer who had lost her son.

Five days later, Enkrid stood on a podium not at the palace banquet hall, but in the heart of the capital. On the podium, a small tower had been built.

Krang stood on the podium with a smile.

There was much to be done.

From the coronation, to the distribution of honors, to what had happened with the Marquis of Okto, to the chimera, to the chaos in the dark magic realm.

None of it could be ignored, but the first thing Krang chose was this.

He built the tower and engraved the names of the fallen soldiers.

Just learning each name was a task in itself.

Some people at this event would not be pleased.

Nonetheless, he did it.

"Would you mind saying a few words first?"

A voice amplified through a spell object in front of the memorial.

Krang called Enkrid.

Enkrid stepped onto the podium.

Standing before the amplification object, Enkrid paused as he chose his words but then gave up.

The healer had lost her son.

Was the son's action meaningless?

No one knows the future, after all.

But he hoped it had been meaningful to him.

"A person."

Enkrid uttered a word, paused to catch his breath, then continued.

"Friends, family, lovers, those who died protecting their backs, I honor them."

Some in the capital shed tears, others smiled.

Krang then stepped forward.

"I honor those who died for me."

He began reading the names on the memorial.

"Bin, Locktine, Laksan..."

The memorial lasted long.

At the end of it all, Krang declared in a calm voice that he was the new king of Naurilia.

"With clear will and purpose, I declare that I, Kryanaht Angius Naurilius, am the new king of Naurilia."

The queen said nothing but silently placed the crown on his head.

Applause echoed. There were no cheers.

What should this be called?

A coronation of remembrance.

Krang, honoring the fallen, took the crown.

From the very beginning of the event, rain had been falling steadily.

Krang stood drenched in the rain. It was the same in the battlefield, but the rain came often.

The pouring rain embraced the shoulders of those who had lost family, lovers, and friends.

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