Regressor of the Fallen Family
Chapter 259

“Your Majesty, why are you gathering all the knights from across the country at the royal palace? When necessary, you could simply issue a mobilization order, so why…?”

There were few who could question Logan, who essentially held absolute power over the kingdom, to his face.

Dwayne, one of those few people, received a wry smile from Logan in response.

“It’s not an issue of necessity—it’s a matter of money, isn’t it? You’re concerned about misusing mana stones again.”

Dwayne’s expression tensed for a moment, but then he shook his head, dismissing the thought.

“I’m merely asking the questions that are expected of a loyal subject. I don’t understand why we are gathering knights, who could be summoned at your command at any time, at such a cost.”

“To completely change the constitution of the kingdom.”

“…Excuse me?”

“We need to completely transform the country, without slaughtering all the nobles, of course.”

Destroying everything would make it too time-consuming to reestablish order.

Dwayne was frozen by Logan’s chilling answer and didn’t even hear the subsequent words. His simple question about a money issue was met with a chillingly brutal response.

“What in the world are you planning to do!?”

“As I said, to change the constitution of the kingdom.”

“What does that mean…?”

“To consolidate all military power in my hands, starting by taking control of the knightly orders which are currently swayed by the nobles.”

“But the nobles already move in unison! Currently, Your Majesty, you possess such influence!”

“No, that’s incorrect. There are two steps to the command: me, the nobles, then the forces. I want to eliminate the intermediate step.”

“How does that relate to this incident? And how will removing one step change anything!?”

“Removing that one step transformed a nation, once one of many on the central continent, into the empire of the continent alone.”

“…What?!”

Understanding dawned upon Dwayne, and his expression turned grave.

Logan added with a piercing finality:

“A country where the monarch’s will is directly reflected in state affairs, where no one dares to defy, is most efficient in times of crisis. Changing to that constitution is my primary goal.”

“To adopt the methods of an empire…”

“It’s been my plan since I ascended the throne. It seems the most expedient route.”

To prevent an empire, the methods of an empire will be embraced.

Dwayne could understand his meaning, but it was not an easy pill to swallow.

“Your Majesty…”

A slight tremor passed across Dwayne’s face.

“So right now, can’t you simply give the order?”

“It’s only a temporary phenomenon, born of fear.”

“Forgive me for saying this, but even over time, I can’t imagine the nobles defying Your Majesty. It seems like an excessive concern.”

“No, it’s better to cement it systematically. Furthermore, training all the forces of the kingdom together will certainly improve our combat effectiveness.”

Dwayne gulped down the obvious retort that had risen in his throat.

‘After all, the people are already singing His Majesty’s praises.’

There was already a clear result; thus, a rebuttal wasn’t easy.

However, having said so much, Dwayne suddenly found himself curious.

To learn what this young man, who had gone from a problem child of a territory to a successor, and now a sovereign, thought.

“…Your Majesty, if, if only hypothetically,”

“Hm?”

“If the threat of the empire didn’t exist… Or after it’s been dealt with, what will you do then?”

“What will I do? I will rest.”

“…Excuse me?”

“I’m going to rest, thoroughly, until I’m so bored of resting, I can’t even think of it anymore.”

The reply came so naturally, so unexpectedly, that Dwayne could not continue his question.

* * *

“Whew…!”

How many times had it been?

Galan, a knight of the Daltan territory, was once again shocked beyond expression. But luckily, none derided him; most of his fellow knights observing the training were wearing equally astounded looks. While 2,000 knights from three different orders, moving in perfect unity, was astonishing, what shocked him more was the content of their training.

‘Crazy. They’re all mad.’

Galan knew, from several days of experience, that the royal knights’ training was anything but ordinary. Yet what he was witnessing now was beyond comprehension.

Why would someone run around holding a horse?

“What is that…?”

This is not training; it’s more like abuse.

Before Galan could finish his question, the chief instructor, Heinckel, had already quickly retorted.

“Yes. Our Maclaine—in, ahem, Maclaine and the royal knights’ horseback riding training, the horse carries the person. And the purpose is…”

“What the heck…”

Blurted out Galan without thinking, but he immediately retreated into silence under the fierce glare of the instructor.

– You’re too rebellious. That attitude will get you into trouble one day. If you want to live on your terms, better change your personality.

His former commander’s words briefly flashed through his head, but Galan mentally shrugged off the ominous voice.

‘He lost his strength along with his arm, but his eyes are still of a top-ranked knight. Tch.’

After a long stare, when Heinckel saw Galan lower his head in defeat, he turned away and continued.

“…The purpose of this training is not only to build strength but to deepen the bond with one’s horse, making it easier for the horse to accept the force. Thus, even average knights can use some higher-level riding skills, which also helps elevate their own knightly abilities. This has been proven effective.”

The explanation from Heinckel was uninterrupted.

“No questions.”

Phew.

He took a long breath, signaling he had fielded countless questions about this absurd training before. However, despite the madness, Galan was curious.

“Who the hell came up with this crazy training…”

“It was me.”

“…I was curious about what an excellent person came up with it. No questions.”

Although it was an impressively swift recovery, it seemed to be too late—the gaze upon him from Heinckel was as sharp as ever. Ignoring those murderous eyes, Galan reminded himself of a hopeful thought.

– Three years. Just think of it as a three-year detachment. After that, I’ll treat you more generously.

Those were the words of his liege, Baron Trevor Daltan.

Indeed, to Galan, returning to the peaceful Daltan territory was appealing.

Not just because it was his hometown.

For Galan, being a knight of Daltan meant having a cushy job with minimal obligations—simply collect the salary without much ado. His peers couldn’t understand why Galan loved the place so much and complained about it being dull.

Still, there was something he looked forward to here.

‘The one called the Iron-Blooded Sword indeed was quite remarkable.’

The brutally efficient swordsmanship displayed by the average knights.

Galan wondered whether Rommel, a mid-ranked knight and captain of Daltan’s knights, could have bested that person from the royal knights.

Lost in thought, Galan barely heard Heinckel reveal something shocking.

“Before becoming a superhuman, His Majesty also underwent this training. And he marveled at how effective it was.”

The training, which had been devised to discipline a wild young man, had seemingly turned into the secret behind creating a superhuman. However, Heinckel’s eyes, imbued with a rosily embellished memory, managed to convince others of this apparent deception’s truth.

The effect was immediate; most knights’ gazes transformed, perhaps thinking they could emulate their monarch’s legendary rise.

Except for one.

Crack.

“Hey, you. Come here.”

Heinckel had reached his limit.

* * *

“Ouch, my waist, my legs, ah…”

As Galan groaned and complained, no one pitied him. He had brought it upon himself by making thoughtless remarks, leading to everyone enduring group punishment. Being beaten to a pulp by Francisco Romero, the deputy captain of the royal knights, was his own doing.

Despite his predicament, Galan’s mouth did not rest.

“How cowardly—a top-level knight personally strikes; send out an average knight to fight fair.”

His baseless complaints went unnoticed.

No one believed he could have won even if they had sent an average knight, but Galan firmly believed so.

The delusion was free, yet the problem was, Galan couldn’t cease rambling—even without an audience.

“When I was young…”

“In our domain, I…”

“If only I had been in better condition, I would’ve avoided those strikes with a swoosh…”

Although bedtime loomed, his incessant chatter seemed to anger the knights around him, sharpening their gaze yet he remained oblivious.

‘I’ll shut his mouth.’

‘I’ll tie his hands.’

‘We’ll beat him.’

Just as the surrounding knights began grinding their teeth and twitching to take action, a call for attention saved Galan’s life.

“Attention, everyone!”

The door swung open, and Heinckel entered. Galan winced at the sight but quickly gathered himself.

With a relaxed gaze, Heinckel pointed to the massive carriage brought in by the knights.

“Uhmm. This would be the first for this battalion. Consider it an honor.”

Honor?

Curious glances turned toward him.

“As you know, the observation period ends today. Therefore, to prepare you all for the official training starting tomorrow, we’ve brought some equipment.”

At this, the tense knights relaxed.

Equipment?

That’s it?

All this, just for equipment?

Heinckel smiled wickedly amidst the doubting gazes, then calmly announced.

“Come one by one and select the ‘artifact’ of your choice. They are only 1st circle artifacts, but they should be quite helpful.”

Silence filled the barrack, followed by a flicker of disbelief in the knights’ eyes. However, when Heinckel pulled out a gauntlet glowing with blue light from the carriage,

“Whoaaaa!”

Including Galan, who let out an unusually loud cheer, all knights seemed ready to rush toward the carriage at once. If not for Francisco’s scowling presence, some might have actually charged ahead.

Watching their reactions, Heinckel reflected on his lord’s words.

– Three years? Meaningless. Who would refuse the Iron-Blooded Sword and Artifacts and choose to leave the royal guard?

His lord was their noble lords’ lord.

The knights had every reason to stay with the royal house.

‘Hard to imagine they could mass-produce artifacts.’

The future seemed as bright as the knights’ glistening eyes, and Heinckel’s smile lingered, unwavering.