A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Kraiss had determined that reinforcements were necessary, but he also believed that those reinforcements didn’t need to be a large force.

Are they lacking supplies?

No, that wasn’t it.

The kingdom’s army wouldn’t have launched an attack without at least that much preparation.

Then could sheer numbers alone be enough to turn the tide of battle?

He wasn’t sure.

It was difficult to predict. Count Molsen’s plans were unreadable.

That was expected.

Count Molsen had prepared something—a fusion of magic and sorcery—and was in the midst of painting a picture of blood across the battlefield.

Even so, Kraiss predicted that the enemy would reveal something unforeseen.

His mind, always envisioning the worst possibilities, shone once again.

In that case, it was only natural to send the fastest and strongest forces as reinforcements.

A small force with overwhelming combat ability was enough to flip the battlefield upside down.

Audin, Shinar, and Teresa.

Kraiss had provided each of them with two sturdy, fast horses.

That was why Audin and Shinar were here.

***

Enkrid took a step back. Audin had gently grabbed his shoulder and pulled him away. There was no reason to resist.

“Just sit back and watch. I did the same earlier.”

Rem spoke as he watched Audin step forward. Then, with a resounding thud, he clashed his weapons together.

In his right hand, he held his usual long-hafted axe, and in his left, a shorter-handled hammer—where he had picked it up from was anyone’s guess.

Enkrid knew that Rem didn’t discriminate when it came to weapons. In other words, Rem was fully prepared.

“So we just need to cut them down?”

Ragna dragged the tip of his sword along the ground as he spoke.

Whatever he had done to it, the blade’s edge was ruined, jagged like a saw. It would be fitting to call it a serrated blade.

Yet, because it was in Ragna’s hands, it was still fearsome. Even if he held nothing but a wooden sword, he would be just as menacing.

Today, more than ever.

His determination was evident—whatever stood in his way, he would cut it down.

Audin, having pulled Enkrid back, smiled and spoke.

“Father, those who must be chastised stand before us.”

A direct translation would mean he intended to send them straight to their god.

Audin’s fists were more than capable tools to deliver them to judgment.

He wore leather gauntlets, each stitch appearing meticulously sewn. The craftsmanship was sturdy and refined.

The material seemed to be made from a beast’s hide. Enkrid’s eyes weren’t mistaken.

Specifically, it was centaur hide.

Processing it took time, but it was remarkably tough and durable.

Kraiss had ordered them made and ensured they were properly delivered.

Curious, Enkrid asked,

“Leather gauntlets? Who made them?”

“There is an excellent tailor in our unit. I do not know his name, but his stitching is exquisite. He once served as a squad leader but is now in charge of supplies, brother.”

A face came to mind.

“Red nose, drinks too much?”

“How did you know?”