Krais walked up to Encrid and dropped to one knee. Still kneeling, he raised one arm and bowed his head with the utmost solemnity and dignity. He looked like a knight swearing fealty. Indeed, his words were much the same.

"I shall serve you with all my heart."

Encrid stared at Krais. He knew the man before him reasonably well. Was this because of what he had done? Because he had ended the civil war? Had that moved Krais to swear his loyalty anew?

Not a chance.

Krang had made him a general instead of giving him a noble title. Along with the position, he had handed over all the surrounding lands.

'Border Guard isn't small, either, but...'

How full could a man stuff his pockets if he managed and governed that entire territory?

Kneeling on one knee, Krais stared at the dirt. To his eyes, every grain of soil was a grain of gold. This was no dirt floor. It was a floor of gold.

'An enormous territory. How many corners of it could yield Krona?'

There was no need to raise taxes. What if he linked the trade routes of every city under the general's authority and collected fees from trading companies? No need to take bribes, either. What if he built a trade network on an entirely different scale and acquired shares by investing in the Roquefried trading company and other rising companies?

He could make a staggering fortune.

Then what would he do with all that money? The answer was already decided.

Krais had divided his dream into stages. First, a small salon. Next, an entire street of salons. And ultimately...

'A city of pleasure.'

He would build a city filled with nothing but pleasures. Food, drink, even clothing would all be supplied by merchants, leaving those inside free to indulge in nothing but enjoyment!

Krais's Salon City, as he called it.

Krais's dream was every bit as grand as Encrid's. He intended to turn an entire city into a place for amusement. And he thought it had genuine commercial potential. Building a city would take an astronomical sum, but he expected more than merely to recoup his investment. He expected profits.

Who in the world disliked having fun? What if he created a place where powerful people and trading company owners with gold to spare could gather and enjoy themselves? What if pleasures hitherto available only at great nobles' banquets were always on offer in Krais's Salon City?

'This will work.'

All he needed was capital. Krona. Gold coins.

His original plan had been to work hard, save up, and start with a small salon in the capital. But if he could make enough to go straight to building a castle and an entire city...

"...eyes. Hey."

Lost in his swelling dreams, Krais only belatedly heard the voice calling him and raised his head. Encrid met Big-eyes' gaze. In those large eyes, ambition blazed like the fires of hell.

"... Right. Serve me with all your heart."

He would never listen if Encrid tried to stop him.

Once again, Encrid realized he was the only sane person in the Lunatic Company.

"Oh, His Majesty sent gifts."

Krais quickly collected himself and stood.

"Two suits of drake-scale armor, enough Lewis iron ingots for a sword, and some black gold. There's also the renowned sword Aker, though I think we should have it appraised just in case."

His Majesty meant Krang. So even when he had cleared out the treasury, he had set aside everything he intended to give Encrid.

'Can he afford to do this?'

The gifts were so expensive that the thought briefly crossed his mind. To Krang, however, it was only natural.

"Of course I should look after my own people first. It's not even a strain."

Drake-scale armor was renowned for being harder than ordinary plate armor while allowing ease of movement. Lewis steel was even harder to obtain than Valeri steel. Far lighter than ordinary iron, it was as hard as Valeri steel.

Black gold was a metal that even five times its weight in gold could not buy. It was nicknamed "the God-Given Trial."

Five times heavier than ordinary steel, it possessed every desirable property a metal could have, from strength to ductility. Apart from its weight, it could well have been called a gift from the gods. But that weight was the problem.

Unless it could be forged into something usable, it was pointless. As such, it was normally used only in small quantities in imprinted weapons, the specialized arms wielded by knights. The superior black gold from Uber was considered the finest, of course, but even black gold from other regions was something ordinary people would never see in their lifetimes.

Lastly, there was Aker.

'Wasn't that a treasure of the royal house?'

Even Encrid had heard the name. And he was right. Aker was the name of a renowned sword said to have belonged to a knight of an earlier generation. The tale of how a mere stroke, without any force behind it, had sliced through a stone gate built by Giants had even become a children's story. Almost everyone knew it.

"I wondered whether His Majesty had bankrupted the treasury to send these."

The gifts were worth that much. Encrid nodded at Krais's words. After all, Krang was already emptying the treasury to resolve the financial crisis caused by the civil war.

Remarkable as the gifts were, there was no reason to refuse what he was being offered. Encrid nodded readily.

"We have much to discuss. A great deal."

Luagarne approached from behind. Her eyes burned as fiercely as Krais's. How could they not? She had a weakness for the unknown.

'How could he have come this far?'

She could scarcely believe her own eyes. No genius could grow like this. Especially since, through her talent-reading eyes, Encrid's talent remained meager. It had improved, but scarcely enough to make a difference.

Luagarne had never said so herself, but among the gifts for recognizing talent granted to Frogs, hers went beyond excellence into something almost supernatural. That was why she could see not only what someone had already attained, but what they would attain in the future.

Encrid always seemed to be half a step beyond his limits. He was running farther than his talent should have allowed. And in that state, he had become a fighter who would rank among the very best proto knights.

'How did you do it?'

The desire innate to Luagarne's kind blazed as never before. The unknown was moving, vividly alive, right before her eyes.

Encrid found nothing burdensome about the Frog's gaze. Just as he had been indifferent when Lierbart spoke of frustration and despair, he let it pass without concern. Instead, he asked how she had come to be here.

"My covenant was with the Queen. It's over now."

Normally, she would have left to seek another mystery. But right beside her was a being she could not believe even when she saw him, could not understand no matter how she tried.

Her coming here had been inevitable. It was fate. That was what Luagarne believed.

"Why? Shall I make a covenant with you, if you need one?"

She was willing to enter a covenant even if it bound her to this man for life. Even if he asked for spiritual love, she would accept.

"No need."

Encrid saw no reason for that. Other thoughts filled his head.

"Were you disappointed I came back ahead of you?"

At Captain Sinar's words, Encrid looked at her and asked, "Did your business go well?"

She smiled at the question. A smile from her was a rare thing indeed. Those nearby who knew the Fairy Sinar were surprised, but Encrid remained unruffled.

"Were you worried?"

"Glad it went well."

That was all. Sinar returned to her usual cold, expressionless face, as though proving she belonged to a nonhuman race, and Luagarne followed Encrid.

As they headed inside, Encrid was deep in thought. Seeing this, Rem tapped his shoulder.

"What's on your mind?"

Encrid, who had been frowning in concentration, spoke.

"When I go from a diagonal cut into a stab, what would happen if I paused, then used the Instant to accelerate?"

The change in speed caused by that brief pause would confuse his opponent's eyes. Going from slow to fast would alter the rhythm, making the attack seem even faster. And thus harder to block.

"... That's all you've been thinking about this whole time?" Rem asked.

"What else?"

Was there something more pressing? Encrid asked the question with his eyes.

"They don't call us the Lunatic Company for nothing."

Rem thought the human before him was the maddest of them all. Encrid wondered why Rem was bringing that up now. Wasn't he only spitting into his own face?

"Try that and you'll snap a tendon. Or tear a muscle."

Using Will meant pushing the body hard. Stopping midway through a swift cut, then launching a swift stab, went beyond pushing it. That was asking to destroy it.

"Take it easy. Easy. Nod if you understand. Easy. Easy."

Rem repeated the word again and again.

Listening beside them, Audin smiled and added, "You will need special training, Brother General."

No one adapted to a new form of address faster than Audin. He uttered the word "general" without batting an eye.

"Special training?"

Encrid sounded interested. Audin was delighted. Never in his life had anyone followed his training so willingly. He recalled those he had taught in the past.

["Please spare me."]

["Is today finally the day I meet the Lord Father?"]

["... Are you serious? You want to make the training even harder? Come on, then. I'd rather fight you."]

Compared with those days, now...

"What kind of training?"

Here was someone who showed not merely interest, but eagerness. It would be a lie to say Audin was not satisfied. Moreover, the man before him walked a straighter, more righteous path than anyone.

Hearing what this man had done during the civil war had sent a shiver through Audin.

'Lord Father, I wish to ask You.'

Was this man an incarnation He had sent, unable to bear the poverty and malice of this land any longer? His deeds had been that impressive.

When Encrid had advanced rather than retreated before that final wave of wraiths, Audin had nearly wept. And his opponent had been a thrall possessed by a demon. This was surely divine providence.

Letting those stray thoughts pass, Audin spoke.

"There is no end to tempering the body. You practiced the striking method to make yourself as tough as steel, yes? This time, we will develop your control over your body."

The striking method involved beating the body with a steel hammer. Encrid had been practicing it regularly, but could hardly claim to have seen much benefit yet.

That did not make it tedious. It was hardly the only thing like that. Giving his all today and repeating it endlessly, even without immediate results: that was the one thing Encrid had.

"Control?" he asked.

He had already mastered his body's movements well enough to swing a sword while somersaulting through the air. The level of a proto knight was no joke. Most so-called masters of unarmed combat ought to bow their heads before one.

"If you cannot command every single muscle fiber at will, how can you call it your own body?"

As Audin spoke, Pell blinked several times beside him.

'Does he need training for that?'

Pell wondered because he, too, was a genius. Normally, it was something the body learned naturally. There was no need to learn it separately.

Rem and Ragna had no such questions. Their captain had more than a few oddities. For instance, Rem could perform the stop-and-start trick Encrid had described earlier. But Encrid could not.

Audin could assess a body's condition by looking at it and gauge its control through its movements. He knew exactly what Encrid needed. The growing precision of his swordsmanship had expanded what he could do. He would be capable of movements that went beyond mere tricks into something almost miraculous.

What more did he need? To make his body endure them. To let it execute the movements in his head naturally, without strain. What came as a matter of course to those called geniuses did not come that way to Encrid.

"Good."

Of course, Encrid did not care about any of that. He was simply pleased to have something new to train.

Encrid began training his body the very evening he returned to Border Guard. Two days later, a blacksmith arrived from the capital. He was one of the very finest in the blacksmiths' guild, Iron and Pure Gold.

"Not just anyone can work black gold."

The king had requested it, but hearing that he was to forge a weapon for the Savior of the Kingdom had made him put aside every other task and come.

Encrid had told everyone to take whatever they wanted from the gifts, keeping only the renowned sword for himself. The instant he held Aker, he knew.

'This is my sword.'

When he voiced that uncharacteristically sentimental thought, Rem replied, "Anything expensive and well made feels like it belongs to you when you pick it up."

He was not wrong. Silver and the Valeri steel sword had felt like Encrid's own weapons from the moment he held them, too. Still, this was Aker, the enchanted weapon said to have been wielded by a knight of an earlier generation. Even the sword's name came from that knight. Encrid was satisfied.

"Give me the Lewis iron ingots."

Rem wanted the iron. Ragna took one look at the black gold and claimed it.

"I'm taking this."

"Go ahead."

Encrid had no reason to stop them.

"You're not thinking of selling any of it, are you?"

Krais asked as he watched, but everyone ignored him. Why would they sell it? They were people who cared nothing for Krona.

Krais felt a little sick.

Aker could not be sold, of course, but selling the Lewis iron ingots or the black gold would have raised more than half the capital needed to open a salon in the royal capital.

'Actually, I could get even more for them if I handled the sale.'

It stung, but what could he do? He had to see it as a reward for what they had accomplished.

That was why the craftsman from the capital ended up meeting Rem and Ragna.

"Make a shaft from ironwood and a spearhead from the Lewis iron, and you would have a magnificent weapon."

"Let's make axes."

"An axe needs more weight in the head than the haft. If the blade is too light..."

"Making the whole thing from one piece sounds good. Haft about this long? Make me two."

Rem spread his hands to indicate the length. They would still be hand axes with long hafts.

The craftsman wondered what the hell was wrong with this bastard. Looking him in the eyes, he found a barbarian's smiling face. He did not look particularly stubborn, but he did look like he would raise hell if crossed.

The craftsman put off trying to persuade Rem and turned to the other man.

"Black gold is best forged into a dagger, or blended into just the edge of a blade. Balance a dagger properly and it won't feel as heavy as you might think. Applied to the edges, this much could make... let's see, twenty swords. More than thirty spears!"

"A greatsword. About this size, please."

Ragna said only what he wanted, without listening.

"This is Manticore hide. I intend to wrap the hilt with it."

The craftsman looked into Ragna's eyes, too. Those eyes had no intention of entertaining anything except what he wanted.

'This bastard doesn't seem right in the head either.'

The craftsman's assistant watched warily. Normally, his master flew into a rage if someone failed to heed his advice.

That same master said, "Let's do that."

He tucked his tail before madness. There was no cure for a madman, after all.

"Master?" the assistant blurted in surprise.

"Stoke the fire."

The apprentice obeyed, working the bellows of the borrowed smithy with his foot. His master silently watched the rising flames. Those two might not have listened to him, but this was a challenge. Simply making weapons in the forms they had requested would be difficult without putting all his skill to work.

A greatsword of black gold and axes forged entirely from Lewis steel. When else would he get to make such things?

The craftsman poured his heart and soul into the work.