Eternally Regressing Knight

“Bake the bread!”

General Olf of Martai, when it came to supplies, had no intention of offering the pitiful black bread mixed with sour wine and foul-smelling jerky and fruits.

Under his command were several capable battalion commanders, one of whom led a unit known for its special skills.

They were called the “Oven Battalion.”

“Stack the stones and seal the gaps with mud.”

The Oven Battalion, as the name suggested, was tasked with building ovens at supply depots and baking bread there.

In a way, it might seem like a crazy idea, but General Olf knew that food was the most important thing. And this battlefield, with its long-term nature, was exactly the type where the Oven Battalion would prove invaluable.

It couldn’t be used in short-term or offensive battles, but once a siege and a long war began, the Oven Battalion would shine.

Above all, the belief that well-fed soldiers fought better was undeniable.

It was a piece of wisdom repeated by famous military strategists, and Olf followed it diligently.

Thus, the Oven Battalion began to make smoke rise as they started the ovens, burning wood and mixing the flour they had brought with water to make dough.

Within a day, the savory smell spread everywhere.

“Now, this is what eating well means! Who needs a mangonel? That’s not important!”

General Olf moved among the soldiers, encouraging them.

“Who are we?”

“The Lions of the East!”

The soldiers’ response was loud and full of spirit. The morale of Martai’s army remained high.

Though Olf’s direct involvement played a part in lifting the morale, the real key was the bread.

Some of the soldiers baking the bread were famous for their skills in Martai, and many of them would go on to run bakeries when they returned to the city.

Martai, in the east, was known for its fertile wheat fields, and its wheat was considered of excellent quality. The rainfall was just right, and Martai’s fields, which had once been called the “fields of blood” due to the many battles fought there, had become fertile ground due to the dead bodies of soldiers and animals over the years.

Though it had been shaped by the hand of those who had a passion for agriculture, the land had a history that stretched back for generations.

Thanks to its fertile land, Martai had been growing wheat for a long time, and their bread and other flour-based foods had become well-known.

There was a saying that what you ate determined your social status, and in the central continent, white bread was a symbol of wealth. But Martai was different.

Their abundance of wheat made white bread a staple for everyday meals.

This long history of baking had made Martai’s bread famous, and some of the bakers had even opened bakeries in the capital.

The bread was one of Martai’s greatest prides.

As General Olf checked the plans after visiting the ovens, he received urgent news.

It was bad news.

“The supply depot has been attacked.”

“Attacked?”

For Martai, the most critical factor was supplies. What good would it be to lay siege only to starve themselves?

Of course, the most trusted men were assigned to oversee the supply lines. Three battalion commanders and the head of the guards—four men in total—were those General Olf trusted the most. These were the men who, despite their physical limitations or disabilities, proved to be indispensable.

Olf trusted the second battalion commander, the one with the quickest mind and sharpest instincts, to oversee the supply lines. No task was too trivial for him.

The messenger, sweating profusely, began to explain.

“Explain in detail!”

Olf’s voice was sharp, and the messenger gulped before continuing.

“A black leopard and two enemy soldiers came and stole the bread baked by the ovens, setting fire to several of the tents.”

“These idiots!”

Olf’s fury boiled over as he heard the report, his anger not just directed at the fire but also at the stolen bread.

Why wouldn’t he be angry?

He knew how important the supply lines were, which was why he had diverted part of his forces to protect them.

Furthermore, the enemy was trapped. How strong could these fools be, trying to break out and fight?

“The ones who broke the mangonel?”

If they had appeared, it would have been welcomed instead.

As the commander’s eyes blazed with fire due to the surprise attack last night, the messenger could no longer continue speaking.

‘Zimmer, did that idiot get caught off guard and let them get away?’

Zimmer was the second battalion commander. He was smart, quick-witted, and meticulous, rarely making mistakes.

But why hadn’t he reported this directly?

“Where’s Zimmer?”

Upon hearing Zimmer’s name, the messenger immediately replied.

“He said he was chasing after the attackers.”

Olf exhaled several times and then spoke.

“Strengthen the watch! If we get hit again, I won’t forgive it.”

A commander who loses in battle can be forgiven, but a commander who is lax in guarding cannot be.

***

Enkrid easily raided the supply depot.

It was truly ‘easy.’

“Shall we go?”

“Let’s do it.”

There was no difficulty. The smoke wafted up into the air, and tents lined the area.

The guard troops were numerous and the defenses were tight, but that wasn’t a problem.

“Grroooow.”

Esther was the first to act.

The leopard rushed forward, and Enkrid and Rem followed behind.

Esther’s movements seemed lighter than usual.

With one swipe of her front paw, she half-sliced an enemy soldier’s shin and then struck the enemy’s head with her tail, her swift movements leaving the enemies dazed.

“An ambush!”

There was no need to draw it out. Enkrid rushed in and swiftly dispatched the two enemies, their throats cut. Between the stench of blood, a delicious scent wafted up.

In fact, the savory scent had been teasing their senses from the start.

While the enemy was still disoriented, Jaxen set fire to several of the tents, and Enkrid, along with Rem, grabbed a few loaves of bread and quickly made their exit.

On the way back, they deliberately detoured through the forest.

It would have been futile if the enemy pursued on horseback. As for those chasing on foot, it was no problem to outrun them.

Their stamina made all the difference.

After running for hours without rest, the pursuers were nowhere to be seen.

“We should have just taken them all down.”

Rem clicked his tongue in regret. Enkrid shook his head at his words.

“This is enough.”

And so, they returned and shared the bread.

“Report can wait until tomorrow,” said the scout who spoke first on the way back. Marcus, the battalion commander, had already taken care of it.

Enkrid, Rem, and Jaxen slept soundly and rested well.

It was the third day of the campaign, and the sunlight was hot and bright.

The summer sun rose early, and after finishing his morning training under the sun, Enkrid went to wash up.

“The bread tastes amazing!”

Krais exclaimed in admiration once again.

Well, it was tasty.

“Don’t eat too much.”

Enkrid playfully tapped Krais on the back of the head and then went to find the battalion commander to report.

Just below the city walls, he could see a pot simmering.

The officers were gathered around the boiling stew.

Since no battle had been fought yet, their armor was still clean.

In contrast, Enkrid’s armor was stained with blood. He had cleaned it, but the stains remained.

“So, you checked the supply depot?”

Marcus asked while sitting on a wooden chair without a backrest.

“I also set a few fires while I was at it.”

“I see.”

Marcus nodded, and the fairy company commander muttered, “Is that a hobby or a specialty?”

He was referring to setting fires.

Enkrid thought that setting fires was becoming almost a habit for him, but there was nothing better than it when it came to damaging the supply depot.

“Would you like a bowl?”

The first company commander offered with the stew ladle, and the smell was quite pleasant.

“Who made this?”

While Enkrid was speaking, the frontier defense commander brought over a chair.

It was the same kind of backless wooden chair as the battalion commander’s.

Sitting down, the aroma of the stew made him think that dipping the bread in it would make it twice as delicious.

“Just a moment.”

Enkrid immediately went to grab the bread he had stolen earlier.

It was a baguette, hard on the outside but soft on the inside, and freshly baked, crispy and nutty.

“This.”

He broke the baguette and dipped it into the stew.

“Mmm, excellent.”

The first company commander spoke with a rare look of excitement on his face.

Had he once said that this guy had a thing for food?

Krais had made a comment like that before.

Enkrid also took a bite. It was delicious.

Crunch.

The outside of the bread was hard, but once he chewed it, it broke apart easily, and the soft, white interior mixed with his saliva as it melted in his mouth.

The rich, oily stew swirled around in his mouth, combining perfectly with the bread.

It was truly a wonderful taste.

“Well, looks like you were really planning for this,” Marcus said.

“I thought about drying them out. They even made a furnace and baked the bread.”

“Olaf, that bastard, must be enjoying his fame as a war maniac,” Marcus said with a smirk. He looked completely confident.

Their enemy still held the advantage.

Cavalry, and the luxury of setting up a furnace.

Yet Marcus still didn’t lose his composure. Enkrid finally understood what Marcus believed in.

It wasn’t really about repaying his belief, but if they didn’t act, even their jerky and marmalade would be lost.

Food was important, after all.

So, everyone ate in silence, devouring their meals.

As they ate, two nobles approached.

Their clothes were surprisingly clean.

As neat as the commanders’ armor.

One of the nobles, with a noticeably wider forehead than the others, spoke first.

“Have you considered peace?”

The other, a younger noble, followed up.

“Looking at the difference in power, if we could solve this with words…”

Most of the nobles at Border Guard were either people who had bought their titles or those who had lost their family’s rank and settled for a lower status.

Why would high-ranking nobles come here to eat?

But things had changed a lot now.

Once the country stabilized, perhaps even a count or a baron might get involved here.

Before that could happen, Baron Bentra or another noble was trying to stake their claim.

Enkrid didn’t know much about politics and didn’t care to, but thanks to Krais’s endless chatter, he had picked up some basic knowledge.

That guy’s gossip was endless.

In fact, he didn’t think much of it.

If they came at him, he would simply defeat them.

Real battles, swords, fighting, and war — those things gave Enkrid an odd thrill.

‘I must have a bad attitude.’

Why did his heart race at the thought of battle and combat?

Actually, it was because he had always wanted and admired those things, which is why he wanted to be a knight.

There was no grand meaning behind it, no deep dreams. It started with imagining himself charging through the battlefield.

After a brief moment of reflection.

Marcus looked at the two nobles and chuckled.

“What is it? Now that the city seems to be growing, do you think you’ll become something? You want to say that, instead of fighting Marta, you’d prefer to settle with peace and put yourselves at the center of it?”

Was that what they wanted? Enkrid wasn’t really listening. But if Krais had been there, he probably would have nodded along.

Marcus, at least, had a great sense of politics. He had hit the nail on the head.

“Shut up and go inside. If you don’t want to die, at least thank the named hero here,” Marcus said with a smirk.

He was currently a company commander, but he was originally just a soldier.

Moreover, his origins were from a small rural village, and he had joined the military to make a living.

The nobles would never bow to Enkrid.

He was a hero among the soldiers, but not among the nobles.

“Hmph, I said it.”

“It was a suggestion. I suggested it because the enemy’s power seems dangerous.”

The two nobles babbled nonsense, and Marcus waved them off.

After they left, Marcus grabbed a wooden bowl, slurped up the stew, and then spoke.

“Those bastards are the kind I just want to cut down right now. Am I wrong?”

Marcus was speaking while looking at Enkrid.

“Murdering a noble is a serious crime.”

Enkrid responded, and Marcus continued in a nonchalant tone.

“Well, if you challenge them to a duel and accidentally kill them, I think that’s fine.”

“Who would accept a duel challenge from the battalion commander? You’d appoint a representative to fight in your place.”

That was the reply of the first company commander.

“Just saying,” Marcus added.

Hearing that, Enkrid brought up a question that had crossed his mind earlier.

“What does it mean by a ‘named hero’?”

“It sounded cool. An independent company commander,” Marcus answered, giving a thumbs-up instead of a direct response.

“I plan to imitate that someday,” the first company commander chimed in.

The frontier defense commander just nodded in acknowledgment.

Enkrid felt no shame about his actions; he was full of excitement. However, he couldn’t help but think that these people were, just a little bit, annoying.

“So, what’s the next step?” Marcus asked as he was about to stand up, noticing that they were almost done eating.

“I’m planning to go a few more times,” Enkrid answered.

“A few more?” Marcus asked, raising an eyebrow.

The first time had been an unexpected attack, but it wouldn’t be the same the second time. They would prepare.

No matter how skilled Enkrid was or how wild Rem became with his axe, if they were surrounded, they wouldn’t survive.

“There’s something that’s been bothering me,” Enkrid said.

It wasn’t an empty remark. When they attacked the supply base and set fire to a few tents, on their way back, Enkrid had sensed something strange.

It was a feeling, an instinct.

“Their eyes felt like the eyes of a hidden gem, like Krais when he sneaked some coins away,” Enkrid mused internally.

It felt like the enemy was hiding something more.

He wanted to confirm that.

He had already come up with a plan for this.

He named it the ‘Thud-Thud-Bam’ operation.

“Thud” – strike once, and when an opportunity arises, “Bam” – hit with all they had. That was the core of the plan.

Enkrid had come up with the basic framework, and Krais filled in the details.

After returning to the camp, they discussed when and where to strike next.

“Let’s go at dawn this time,” Krais suggested.

His tone was calm, but to anyone who knew strategy, it was a brilliant idea.

But Enkrid thought it made sense.

They had attacked under the cover of night before, so this time, they would do it in broad daylight. It seemed like a good plan.

“This will be fun, brother,” Audin replied, hearing the details of the plan.

The focus of the mission was the “bear.”