Chapter 462 - To Honor Knight Oara
Chapter 462 - To Honor Knight Oara
Roman glanced at his fist upon hearing that someone from the royal palace was coming. It was a large, solid hand, covered in scars.
'Wouldn't it be bad to hit someone sent by the royal family?'
It was an obvious thought, but it still troubled him.
Do you swear loyalty to Naurilia? If danger comes, will you fight for the royal family?
If someone asked Roman that, he would nod without hesitation. But if they asked, "Would you kill a noble you don't like?" Roman would nod even faster, twice as quickly as before. Swearing loyalty comes from the heart, but...
'I'd rather be given the power to execute nobles on the spot.'
When Roman was in the royal palace, serving in the knight order, he had often thought that way.
The palace was full of fools who only talked nonsense.
Oara died.
His master had passed away.
Her corpse did not rot quickly despite the damp weather.
Sadness, mourning—such things mattered only to the people of this city.
But what about the one sent from the royal family?
As soon as the news reached the palace, they sent someone.
It was a quick response.
Was it expected? Yes, it was expected.
A knight of the order had died.
One of the nation's pillars had fallen.
Roman couldn't know everything that happened here, but considering the need to suppress the Demonic domain and their political position, it must have been a headache for them.
'They must have a mountain of things to worry about.'
That's why someone from the royal family arrived before the casket made of cedar.
That person would question why a knight had died here.
They would scold Roman.
Why had there been such a fight here?
Roman's grip tightened, and veins bulged on the back of his hand.
He would endure it, as long as he could.
But if he couldn't control himself?
Didn't Enkrid's subordinate have a nickname as the noble hunter?
The rumor was that he had killed a noble who had been messing around.
Roman thought that he might take that nickname for himself.
Today was the funeral of Knight Oara, his master's farewell.
"Ha."
Roman exhaled a sigh and went outside.
Flames were lit on the watchtowers, even though it was day.
The fog in the city was thick.
Usually, on days like this, monsters would run rampant.
When the twin moons rose, such days were often repeated.
The beasts, intoxicated by their instinct to kill, would go on a rampage.
But not this time.
"There are no signs."
The scouts had been active since dawn, confirming that the magic zone was quiet.
Just as his master had said.
The Demonic realm was calm.
The monster at the core of it had been killed.
The Demonic Realm had expended all of its energy.
It was now just a collection of colonies.
The Demonic realm of the Forest—Oara had wanted to end it.
Knights were walking disasters.
That's why they were called that—they had enough power to warrant the name. Even with that power, closing the demonic realm was difficult.
But Oara had done it.
'Hasn't she? What about all the things my master did for this city? How much did the people of this city love my master?'
If the person sent from the royal family belittled Oara's accomplishments, Roman would no longer be a semi knight but a thug.
'Respect my master. Please.'
His turbulent feelings made him grip his fist harder.
He decided it was better to leave the weapon behind.
Roman had done so.
He left his weapon behind.
The knight who had been called a disaster by some.
But to Roman, she was a lucky person, and traces of her remained all over the city.
"Hey, do you want to live like a fool, scraping a few coins from the whores?"
"What are you saying? Do you want to die?"
It was when he had just joined as a soldier in Thousand Stone.
He had rushed in blindly, and after getting beaten until stars appeared in the daylight, he learned.
"You need some education. Follow me!"
At some point, Roman had fallen for Oara. It wasn't a rational feeling. It was admiration.
If it hadn't been for her, he might have ended his life as a lowlife in the back alleys or as the leader of a criminal guild.
That was who he was.
No one was leading the funeral, yet all the citizens of the city had gathered.
The city was almost devoid of children, women, and the elderly.
It was a city like a large military camp.
Oara loved the city, but she was also saddened by it.
"If there were no demonic realm, wouldn't people laugh and talk more freely?
I want to hear children's laughter in this city."
That was Oara's dream.
She had made that dream a reality.
Even as she died, she did not give up, and she had laid the foundation.
The remaining demonic realm would be erased and wiped away by herself.
Then, the city would hear the laughter of children.
Roman had shared these words with his friend Enkrid.
He had quietly listened and nodded.
No, just listening and nodding had been a comfort.
He was an interesting fellow. Having blended into the city and witnessed the end of his master, it seemed so natural.
Roman's eyes were drawn to the central podium.
Someone was standing there. It was someone from the royal palace.
The face was unfamiliar—he didn't recognize him.
'Of course, why would I know a nobleman?'
The man stood on the platform without a cloak. No armor either.
His clothes had an aristocratic, luxurious air about them.
But his hair was dusty, and his sweat-soaked clothes had dried, leaving white salt marks. The man stood on the platform and looked at everyone.
Roman saw everything about his actions and felt the atmosphere around him change.
The man hadn't said anything yet, but his gaze alone seemed to draw the attention of the entire crowd.
The air, the flow, the atmosphere—all seemed to be absorbed into the platform.
"I apologize."
The man spoke. He didn't introduce himself first; instead, he spoke of apologies.
"I am grateful for the efforts of Knight Oara, but I cannot deny that her death is, in part, my responsibility."
He wasn't crying, but he looked like he was. What was he sad about? Was it the loss of a knight?
No, it wasn't that.
He genuinely seemed to feel sorrow.
Roman thought so.
The man's expression did not change. He stood quietly, and his eyes and breath spoke volumes.
He was sorry.
He was sorry for not being able to do anything for the person who had protected this land.
Who was this man to speak so arrogantly?
Roman's anger flared, and he struggled to control his emotions.
Just as he was about to shout something, the man on the platform spoke again.
"My name is Kryanaht Angius Naurilius. I am the one you will resent and curse."
What?
Roman widened his eyes and glared at the man on the platform.
Was this bastard saying what he thought he was?
"Knight Oara's dream was to protect this city, and I too swear to protect this land and city until Naurilia collapses or falls, even if it does."
The royal family had sent someone.
That person had sworn to protect the city.
That person showed sorrow for Oara's death.
But he didn't only speak of Oara.
He listed the names of each soldier who had fallen.
Roman had heard that the new king, after the civil war, had done such things.
The king had done it again this time.
As soon as he heard the news, he had rushed over day and night.
And now, with a body on the verge of collapsing, he stood on the platform and spoke of his sorrow and vow.
"You are free to throw stones."
There had been a knight who loved the city.
That knight had protected the city in the end.
And now the king, who should have protected that knight, said the resentment should fall upon him.
Even if this was a lie.
Roman thought with tears in his eyes.
Protecting this city was ultimately about protecting the kingdom.
Oara had protected the city, showing loyalty to the royal family.
Roman himself would do the same.
If such a king were to appear. He would protect the city in place of Oara.
Roman lifted his head.
The fog cleared.
The twin moons, the red moon, and the rising sun shattered everything.
The gray mist from the Gray Forest of the demonic realm dissipated, and sunlight poured in like waves.
The sunlight, pouring in like waves, stopped in place and brightly illuminated the world.
It shone on the king, on the people, and on the dead Oara.
In the sunlight, the blonde king looked at everyone.
"Honor to Knight Oara."
The king paid his respects.
Krang, who had descended from the platform, opened his mouth.
Behind him, in the corner of the platform, Enkrid quietly listened to his words.
"Did I arrive right on time? Or was I late? Or should I blame my ignorance for not being able to do anything for the knight who protected this land?"
Political position, power, the royal family's influence.
He hadn't come after calculating such things.
He had come to comfort those who mourned the death of someone.
If cynical advice had been needed, Krang could have offered it.
But he didn't. Instead, he stood on the platform, giving a speech that wasn't really a speech.
They say that sharing sorrow lightens the burden.
Krang shared his sorrow with the entire city.
Oara was dead. But no one would forget her name.
"From today, the name of this city will be Oara."
The king spoke and descended from the platform.
"It's exhausting."
Only then did Krang, with a whining tone, speak.
He was looking directly at Enkrid.
Enkrid, who had been watching, scolded the king.
"You should have brought a coffin made of sandalwood."
"Indeed."
If they had thought about it, they probably wouldn't have come at all.
Even the guards accompanying them didn't seem to be at ease.
"Ha. Damned monsters, damned demonic domain."
Krang muttered while looking at the sky.
Even under the falling sunlight, he didn't furrow his brows or squint but closed his eyes.
And with his eyes still shut, he continued speaking.
"I'll erase the demonic domain. I'll dedicate my life to it.
This land is my responsibility, my country.
And in this land, a knight has fallen.
Therefore, I will erase the demonic domain entirely."
There was Will.
The Will that lay within his resolve and beliefs.
Krang' words were filled with determination.
It was the same as when Enkrid had first met him at the duty barracks.
His speech, his gaze, his gestures—everything flowed as if it had been decided.
Like the sun rises and the moon sets.
Krang spoke with all his heart.
Enkrid truly heard him.
He understood.
He read the determination behind his words.
It was still just one phrase, neither fast nor slow, but he would do it.
He would erase the demonic domains.
The king would burn his flame for that purpose.
An illusion once again appeared.
The knights, the squire, the squires, the soldiers—all of them raised their swords for one king.
They would wield their swords and stab their spears.
Against the monsters, against the king's enemies.
The king would bear the responsibility and set the direction.
The knight would remove the obstacles along that path.
That was the role of each person.
"My sword will be with them."
Enkrid replied.
"That's good to hear. Let's walk for a bit."
Krang quickly returned to his usual self, an attitude not unlike when Enkrid first saw him at the duty barracks.
"You look like you're about to collapse. Are you sure you'll be okay?"
"If I collapse, you can at least help me up."
"You've got your guards. Why would I need to?"
"True enough."
With that lighthearted exchange, Krang smiled faintly. Enkrid smiled as well and began walking.
The day that passed would never return.
The dead would never return.
It was the same thing.
Was this the best choice? Was there no better way?
It might have crossed Enkrid's mind, but he shrugged it off.
To regret the day that passed and wonder if the path not taken would have been better, imagining that there was a better choice, was as foolish as anything could be.
It was more dangerous than any curse to dwell on such thoughts and regrets.
If he had lived with such a burden in his heart, he wouldn't have made it this far.
So he let it go and walked on.
Not forgetting the day that passed, or the people who died.
Perhaps, until the moment of his own death, he would never forget them.
Then, was Oara dead?
Her body had died, but her spirit would live on in the city of Oara.
At the forefront...
Although he didn't understand why Roman, his bandit-looking friend, was crying, he figured it would be him.
It wasn't just Roman crying, however.
The grief that Krang had shared was felt throughout the city.
Some, so deeply sad, couldn't even shed tears.
If their tears could carry on the spirit of Oara...
'I will inherit some of the techniques, Oara.'
The spirit, the techniques, the will—those things would remain and be passed on.
Though dead, they would protect this land.
With this, the knight of Oara had upheld their own will and belief.
With such thoughts, Enkrid walked, his steps loud and steady.
Krang walked alongside him, followed by the guards.
Then, Luagarne came up on the opposite side of Krang, walking with Enkrid at the center.
"So, after your contract with the former queen ended, are you willing to help me now, Luagarne?"
Krang spoke, sticking his head forward.
Luagarne puffed her cheeks and smiled, answering.
"My interest lies here, not there."
Luagarne stuck out her tongue, pointing at Enkrid. Even while doing so, her pronunciation remained perfect. If it was a skill, it was certainly a skill.
"You said you were interested in my face, didn't you?"
"Reveling in beauty is a trait of the Frog species, so it can't be helped. It doesn't necessarily mean I'll make a contract with you."
"I know. I'm just disappointed."
She laughed, rolling her cheeks.
It seemed like Krang was also part of her tastes, as she seemed to enjoy just looking at faces.
Enkrid and Krang walked between the broken sunbeams.
No special words were exchanged.
The future, politics, the problems caused by the absence of knights—neither of them cared for any of those.
"So, you killed a ghoul who fights like a knight? Your skills have improved."
"I've just been doing it."
"Don't just say 'I've just been doing it.'"
"Of course not. It's an incomprehensible talent."
Luagarne chimed in from the side. Even she found it mysterious how he could reproduce a knight's strike in an instant.
How was that possible?
She asked, but Enkrid wouldn't have an answer for her.
Various small talk passed by.
Enkrid listened to Krang' stories and shared his own.
Mostly trivial things.
Although many of them were important and secret, to them, it was just idle chatter.
For example, something like this:
"Ah, I've gotten engaged."
For the king, having descendants was also a matter of business.
Krang spoke calmly about his affairs.
Enkrid congratulated him.
"Is it really something to congratulate?"
Krang joked.
They both laughed.
The internal problems of the city of Oara were many.
But others would be able to solve them.
They just passed the problems onto others and continued their conversation.
"What kind of person was Oara?"
Krang asked about the hero who had protected the city, someone he had never seen.
"She was someone who shone."
Like sunlight.
Enkrid answered, recalling the memories.
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