Kaaaaaa—
The sound of wind brushing past overhead was deafening. Would a dragon from legend make this kind of sound if it opened its jaws and breathed fire?
The fact that someone could eat, sleep, and rest in a situation like this was proof in itself that they were outside the category of ordinary people.
In that sense, Enkrid had clearly left the realm of the ordinary. He was the sort who leaned more on effort than talent, but judging only the present, no one looked more knightly than he did.
Wasn't that why knights were called calamities—because they moved beyond common sense?
So in a way, it was only natural. Of course, not every knight could be like this.
That out-of-the-ordinary human was lost in thought.
'Is the viscount's domain burning?'
What about the Border Guard standing force that had been dispatched there? Hadn't Kraiss, saying it bothered him, sent twice as many troops as usual?
The moment Kraiss heard the words "war with the south," he had increased the forces sent toward Viscount Harrison's domain.
'And the number of scouting parties was clearly increased as well.'
What Finn had said while circling the Pen-Hanil Range, laying out scouting routes across the plains and forests that included the southern Border Guard and Viscount Harrison's domain, and coordinating the unit, had left an impression.
"I don't think even ants run around this diligently."
Even if it was half a complaint, Finn did the work that needed doing. That was the kind of person Scout Captain Finn was.
In the meantime, Kraiss had even summoned Seiki to the city—former Saintess, current Pen-Hanil ranger, whose dream was to become a Highlander or mountain dweller who ate and slept in the mountains, a self-reliant independent fighter.
After that, Kraiss prayed every day to the goddess who governed fate and fortune, wishing Ester would return quickly. All of this was what Kraiss had done just before leaving the city.
"Seeing you pray for another woman—it's really nice."
How solemn Kraiss had been when Nurat said that.
"Look, Captain. Look at me, sacrificing my own peace for the city's safety. Please have it written like that on my tombstone. 'Kraiss, died by his lover's blade for the city.'"
If using solemn resolve and bravado at the same time was a skill, then that too was a skill. The reason he made such a fuss was simple—he was that uneasy.
Nurat nodded and placed her hand on the sword grip.
Chireeeng—ting.
The sound of the blade sliding along the scabbard rang clear. Enkrid admired it inwardly. Nurat's sword-drawing had become far cleaner than before.
Raising the latch and drawing the sword now looked like a single motion. Her skill had grown considerably. It showed the look of someone who had not stopped making effort regardless of talent. As Kraiss's lover and guard, her skill left nothing to be desired.
"Are we allowed to abandon Viscount Harrison?"
Kraiss swiftly changed the subject. Why ask a question when you already know the answer?
It was nothing more than an evasive maneuver to dodge his lover's blade. And to save the man who had willingly set his neck atop that blade for the city's sake, Enkrid was more than happy to play along. He expressed his intent by shaking his head from side to side.
"Well, that's an obvious answer."
Kraiss's complexion darkened as he spoke. The corners of his eyes drooped, his face gradually turning pale. All kinds of anxiety gnawed at him. And because of that, he would prepare for every danger.
Through his memories with Kraiss, Enkrid recalled the noble whose face had been the subject of that conversation.
'Viscount Harrison.'
The man who had gifted the sacred spring water that Odd-Eye—wings beating beneath him now—had drunk. A middle-aged noble whose eyes resembled those of a thirteen-year-old boy.
"I'll till the land."
How delighted he had looked when he said that.
In his domain, everyone researched how to grow and nurture crops. That was how the vineyard had come into being, Enkrid had heard.
If that vineyard burned, if that tent he boasted of was torn and ripped apart, that was fine.
'Even if it collapses, you can just get back up.'
What mattered was surviving and staying alive.
Would worrying change anything here? No.
Kicking Odd-Eye's belly with both feet wouldn't make him fly any faster.
So this wasn't the time to worry. Enkrid shifted the flow of his thoughts. It wasn't easy to redirect thinking like diverting a stream, but after years of effort and habit, it had become manageable.
'Everything you experience has something to learn from.'
A truth he knew well. Since worry changed nothing, he began training inside his own head.
'Those two.'
They had fought well. Not just well—they had calculated and built tactics before their weapons even crossed. It would be a lie to say it hadn't been impressive.
Only, while those two had learned tactical patterns through over five hundred mock battles within their knight order, Enkrid had rolled along the bottom as a mercenary and guide, risking his life to learn, experience, revisit, and master things. On top of that, he had added the teachings of a Frog who had lived over two hundred years and specialized in tactics and strategy.
His thoughts continued.
Those two had also revealed something beyond tactics. That too had been impressive.
'Extraordinary abilities.'
Both had shown special talents. One handled strength; the other handled something like an unseen hand.
To gain the physical power he had now, Enkrid had coughed up blood. Not figuratively—he had literally coughed blood while forging his body.
"Brother, are all muscles the same?"
Audin's body wasn't merely large. The muscles composing it had a density different from ordinary people's. Enkrid had rebuilt his body based on that teaching.
Audin believed that forging the body required coughing blood—and training the internal organs as well.
Even Enkrid would naturally scowl if told to do that twice.
Let alone the Ferryman.
"Don't repeat it today. Move on to tomorrow."
Sometimes that voice appeared in his dreams. That was how hellish the training had been. Those days.
Had his opponents done the same? Had they forged muscles of that density? Stuffed their bodies with beast-like muscle bundles? Used techniques that rebuilt the body while breathing Will into it?
What Enkrid had done was the secret of Balaph-style training—said to be the giants' training method stolen by humans.
His opponents were different. Their bodies were not made that way.
At a glance, Enkrid had known the enemy knight's body differed from his own. The muscle density was too low. And yet her instantaneous strength was not something he could dismiss. She drew out power far greater than her appearance suggested.
'That's why—Giant's Strength.'
The spear-wielding knight had felt as though an extra invisible hand had grown.
'Will the ones I meet next use similar things?'
The south—Rihinstetten—valued special bloodlines, and sure enough, it had produced many strange talents.
He had faced and killed two such knights. Was there danger in the result? A crisis? Could this be called the peak of his ability?
Several thoughts crossed and overturned one another, arriving at a conclusion.
'Rihinstetten's full strength still hasn't shown itself.'
It was intuition—gut sense.
Odd-Eye angled downward. Enkrid looked at the familiar land below.
Land cultivated in many shapes for farming. Each plot had its own distinctive form.
Some places had furrows dug; others had large tents erected.
'A method for maintaining a constant temperature even in winter.'
A new agricultural technique born from years of time, effort, and research.
In the sea lived monsters called Sirens that charmed sentient beings and devoured them. Siren scales were thin, tough, and translucent.
Naturally, they were expensive. When fashionable noblewomen once wore clothes made of Siren scales, they cost more than gold by weight.
Fabric more precious than most gemstones.
'A man mad about farming.'
The thought came on its own. Viscount Harrison had gathered those precious Siren scales and used them as roofing.
Those scale hides let light through and collected it. Ordinary people wouldn't know, but Siren scales also absorbed sunlight and stored heat.
At that level, even flowers—not only winter crops—would bloom.
"It was close. I poured in half my fortune."
Viscount Harrison would say that proudly, smiling all over his face. He truly looked like someone who enjoyed what he did.
The tent was intact. Peaceful.
In Enkrid's eyes, troops stood lined up beside the heated tent that was like the viscount's own child.
"Odd-Eye."
Odd-Eye traced a long arc downward. The winged horse had grown more accustomed to flying. It no longer descended like a reckless plunge.
Beating its wings and riding the wind, it spiraled downward and set hoof to ground. A soft landing—though to those watching, it would still be startling.
Fwaaaang!
As Odd-Eye came down, wind surged and dust scattered. With the sun at his back, Enkrid turned his gaze.
Several familiar faces were there. Some already held axes and the like. One had drawn an arm far back, ready to throw.
"Viscount Harrison."
Enkrid spoke the moment he dismounted.
"…Sir Enkrid?"
The viscount's eyes widened to the point they might have popped out.
"There was no attack?"
A calm question. The viscount answered reflexively.
"They passed by. Uh—so, the enemy just passed through. What did they call themselves again? The Dirt Corps?"
"Not that. The Ocher Corps—the symbol of the Mud Order."
Enkrid didn't know the fine details, but if Naurillia named units after knights, the south was famous for its five corps that corresponded to its knight orders.
What one of Rem's assault troops had said earlier referred to that.
Enkrid didn't truly know these things, but he grasped the situation by feel.
"Rihinstetten?"
"Yes, Captain."
Many of Rem's troops were reckless, but not all. The one who stepped forward now was among those easy to talk to.
"They went toward Border Guard."
"How many?"
"At least over three thousand."
More than the force that had advanced on the capital—roughly three times as many. Why? He couldn't even guess the reason.
Then why leave Viscount Harrison's domain untouched?
There was too little information. Still, his head prickled as thought followed thought.
'You avoid unnecessary battles to preserve strength. If you have a clear objective, you don't waste time.'
A capable commander knew exactly what needed doing.
"They advanced without hesitation."
That was the assault captain's report.
"Let's go."
Enkrid urged Odd-Eye on. Odd-Eye ran and flew again—already the third sprint and flight before the day was done.
***
Rihinstetten had once possessed five knight orders: Ruby, Amethyst, Sapphire, Mud, and Onyx.
Now, only Ruby, Amethyst, and Mud remained.
Amethyst had long represented noble houses. Ruby accepted anyone as long as their skill was outstanding.
And the Mud Order and the Ocher Corps—
"Crimes are repaid by merit."
That was their banner. They were descended from criminals.
Because of that, their discipline was so strict they even operated separate penal squads. Retreat meant death, and violations of military law were punished harshly.
In Rihinstetten, knight orders had originally been formed first, with subordinate units created afterward. But the Ocher Corps had been the opposite.
The prisoner corps came first. On the battlefield, knights were born and became the Mud Order.
"Our destination is Border Guard."
The Mud Order commander moved together with two knights under command.
The three thousand men of the prisoner corps were soldiers meant to die at a single charge order—an arrow loosed once, with no thought given to retrieving it.
Subtract the three knights and part of the penal units, and it was force acceptable to lose entirely. That was Rihinstetten's way.
Was the Mad Order of Knights at Border Guard troublesome?
Then burn their home. How? Set soldiers on fire and send them charging.
Across the continent, which land fought the hardest?
Which people were the most warlike?
Which king burned with the greatest desire to struggle?
All answers lay in the south, adjacent to the Demon-lands.
They had grown mixing red blood atop black demon blood. A gloomy aura clung to lands bordering the Demon-lands. When a demon expanded its domain, a city could vanish overnight.
That was the south—a place where an opera of eternal night, darkness, despair, and ruin unfolded.
"Let's go dig into the city's soft underbelly."
So spoke the knight commander.
"Crimes by merit!"
"Crimes by merit!"
Because merit absolved crime, the families of those who died here would no longer be descendants of criminals.
Therefore, they would throw away their lives and fight.
If a knight struck down a thousand, fifteen hundred would rush in. Even if they all died, the last survivor would still stab a blade into the knight's body.
They advanced calmly along the Safe Road that Border Guard had laid down.