"You'll be staying in Border Guard, right?"

Encrid nodded at Krais's question.

"I thought so, so I've made preparations. If there's anything else you need, just say the word. My loyal service!"

Ever since seeing the general and the treasure, Krais's eyes had been gleaming like gold coins, and the word "loyalty" kept spilling from his lips. Encrid didn't fault him for it. Whatever anyone said about him, he certainly got things done.

Their quarters had changed. They were larger, with more rooms, and a new training ground stood out front. The Lunatic Company had had its own training ground before, but this time even the footing was different. Flat stones paved the entire expanse.

On one side, green leaves held the dawn dew on neatly planted trees. Day was slowly breaking. It was summer, the season of early sunrises.

Trees, flowers, the rising sun.

Watching the leaves stir in the wind, Encrid drew his sword. He went through his usual training. There would be no sparring today.

"Just wait till my axe is finished."

Rem had ground his teeth as he spoke.

"My greatsword isn't ready yet."

Ragna, too, had refused with a frown.

"You intend to stab and cut me with that, Brother General?"

Even Audin, of all people, had hinted at a refusal.

"I'm not doing it."

Dunbachel had dodged him.

"I've ordered a new shield."

Even Teresa had refused.

"My foot has grown back, but I could have three ankles and still not manage against you now."

His hopes of Luagarne had evaporated, too. Sinar was nowhere to be seen.

"I don't think I'm ready yet."

When he tried to coax even Pell into a bout, Pell shook his head, adding that he still couldn't win. He didn't seem inclined to fight just now.

Encrid found it deeply disappointing. All he'd done was test Aker, his newly acquired sword, renowned even among renowned blades. In the process, he'd split Rem's axe blade and cut Ragna's temporary replacement sword in half, but that couldn't be helped. Surely a new sword needed testing?

"Don't you think that's a bit cheap?"

Rem's tone was mocking, but Encrid answered calmly.

"Having the right weapon is part of your skill."

"The king just gave you that... Forget it."

Rem gave up arguing. He'd rather draw on shamanic power again than try to beat Encrid with words.

"Come at me, you barbarian lout of the West."

Encrid taunted him a few more times, but Rem had learned a thing or two as well. He shut his ears and ignored him.

Soon, Encrid shook off his stray thoughts and focused on training.

'Slash, thrust, and cut.'

His sword stirred the wind as he swung at imaginary enemies, making the leaves tremble.

'There's something to learn in everything I see.'

He didn't always need some great revelation. Repeating movements, reducing tiny errors, executing each motion better. As he swung his sword with those thoughts, everything he had learned blended naturally together. He worked the Will of the Instant into a sequence of thrusts and cuts.

'Two movements in a single breath.'

Ragna had managed as many as three in one breath. Encrid had seen it when he cut down the Wraith General before the count. He couldn't manage that yet. What Ragna had done went beyond a feat of skill; it was almost divine. In fact, it had felt like the closest thing to a knight's swordsmanship he'd seen.

'Repeat, and repeat again.'

Had the ferryman been beside him, he would have cursed Encrid for being utterly, endlessly tiresome.

A burst of speed from the Instant, followed by the Crushing Sword. With the Captivating Sword, he imagined a game of moves and countermoves against an opponent. Those he pictured ranged from the young genius he'd met long ago to people from his mercenary days, Lierbart, Rem, Ragna, and Audin.

None of those fights was easy. Encrid's skill already placed him among the best of the proto knights, but winning a fight was different from winning a spar. Anyone could die to a stray blade.

'Don't speak of victory or defeat before you've fought.'

Three of his instructors had told him the same thing. Strangely, all three had initially refused to teach him, relenting only after seeing persistence that went beyond desperation.

As he swung his sword over and over, sweat scattered in every direction.

To Encrid, Ragna seemed the closest to becoming a knight. The way he had cut down the man blocking his path in a single strike, the swordsmanship he'd displayed while cleaving through the waves of wraiths: every part of it clearly surpassed a proto knight's level. So Encrid had asked.

["Have you reached knighthood?"]

["I don't know."]

["You don't?"]

["I've never been there, so I don't know."]

There had been certainty in Ragna as he spoke, a confidence only a genius could display. His manner said it for him: he hadn't been there, but he would get there. Absolute faith showed through his bearing and actions.

Encrid knew all too well how meager his own talent was, and he was surrounded by geniuses like Ragna. Rem was one. Audin, too. Even Dunbachel and Teresa had improved beyond comparison with their former selves. Their gifts were different from his.

And Pell? His ability to gauge an opponent's skill by sight alone was enough to call him a genius. Even the squire Roford, whose reasons for following them Encrid didn't know, would have more talent than he did.

Lierbart had been a poet mired in frustration and despair. He had sung of despair and danced to frustration, lamenting his talent until he took an evil path.

-Despair! Give in to hopelessness!

The ferryman's phantom shouted.

Encrid ignored it all. Stray thoughts like these couldn't disturb his stance or shake his heart.

He was sweating hard when soft footsteps came from one side. He stopped his sword and turned his gaze. A figure was walking toward him from the dawn, silhouetted against the light.

The sun had risen before he knew it, brightly illuminating their surroundings. He could see reddish-brown hair and two arms swinging naturally. Encrid knew a silent dagger could fly from those hands at any moment, and that countless blades and weapons were concealed all over the man's body.

If Audin's body was a blunt weapon of steel, the man approaching now was a living weapon, one that could kill merely by breathing.

As his skill grew, so did what he could see. He could now see Jaxon's "preparations," things he'd missed before, hidden in every step and gesture.

At the sight, Encrid shifted his feet, tugged his sword belt, and rested a hand at his waist. It settled naturally on Aker. The renowned sword bore the name of a knight from the kingdom's founding myth. It could rightly be called a royal treasure.

'Would it be all right to break it?'

It had been given to him, so what could anyone do? If Jaxon attacked now, neither Aker nor Encrid himself seemed likely to come out unscathed.

Assassins ranked themselves this way: those who openly showed killing intent were third-rate. Those who let it show subtly were second-rate. Those who approached without any sign of their presence were first-rate. Those who approached giving off an utterly ordinary presence were beyond first-rate.

Jaxon looked no different from usual, but Encrid's keen senses and intuition told him otherwise.

"You've improved a great deal."

Jaxon spoke as he approached.

"I've still got a long way to go."

As he spoke, Encrid let his arm hang looser, releasing more tension. An explosive burst of speed required relaxed muscles.

"Before becoming a knight, you mean?"

Encrid nodded.

Jaxon stopped walking. With the sunlight behind him, his face was all shadow. The deep shade made it look colder than ever.

"There's something I'd like to ask."

"Ask."

"Why didn't you join the knight order?"

"Will you be returning now?"

Long ago, under the previous Master of Georg’s Dagger, there had been a secret practice at the end of an infiltration mission: killing everyone who might guess the infiltrating guild member's identity. It was no longer an absolute rule. But when the person in question was the Master of Georg’s Dagger himself, that changed things.

The Master of Georg’s Dagger was someone who must always remain hidden behind a veil of mystery.

"Shall I take care of it?"

His lover, the Master's daughter, asked.

Jaxon didn't answer. The words wouldn't come easily.

"If it's to be done, I'll do it myself."

His lover nodded. That was fair enough.

Then when would he do it, and when would they return? Never mind the backlog of commissions; the greater problem was the lack of discipline with the Master absent so long. Plenty of people would scheme to seize his position at the first opening. Offhand, she could think of more than five.

'No, probably ten.'

Still, she respected the Master and followed his wishes. For no particular reason, Jaxon was still here. He could have left before the civil war began, or afterward. He hadn't needed to come all the way back to Border Guard.

There had also been countless opportunities along the way to kill the man who suspected his identity. Whether he succeeded or failed, why hadn't he even tried? There was a mountain of things she wondered about and couldn't understand.

"May I ask why?"

At the question, asked as his lover rather than a guild member serving her Master, Jaxon fell silent for a moment.

"I think I'll know if I ask."

"Ask what?"

"Why he didn't become a knight."

To her, it came out of nowhere. Not to Jaxon.

'Master.'

Throughout the journey here, the previous Master's words had drifted through Jaxon's mind.

["Without heart, your techniques will never be more than the art of killing, you idiot."]

Was that really something to say to a man who'd come to learn the art of killing?

["Happy you're so good at killing people? Is it fun?"]

He didn't feel it often, but yes, it was enjoyable.

["Don't smile. Seeing you smile makes me think I chose wrong."]

He hadn't even wondered what choice the man meant.

The Master had said similar things from the moment he'd first brought Jaxon in.

["If there's something you cherish, what would otherwise be mere killing arts can become a blade that protects someone."]

Jaxon had turned the question back on him.

["Then what are you protecting, Master?"]

["My daughter and family. The fools who live with no one but me to rely on. The fence that keeps a bastard like you from being unleashed on the world. Things like that."]

Words he half understood and half didn't. Words that didn't really matter. Words he only needed to hear and let pass. What mattered to Jaxon was the strength he needed for revenge.

Now that his revenge had reached a stopping point, should he find new targets? Should he keep hunting down the remaining people and killing them one by one? Was that the right path?

He thought there was something he had to do before weighing right and wrong. That was why he was here.

["Now, Jaxon Bensino, legitimate son of House Bensino. Do you want to become a murderous lunatic? Is killing people to perfection your only purpose in life? Is that your dream? Is that all you are?"]

The Master's words kept echoing through Jaxon's mind.

Jaxon's abrupt question made Encrid pause in thought.

'Why?'

He'd never really considered a reason.

But thinking about it, he could have stayed with the knight order. If he'd remained in the capital and asked to join, who would have turned him down? Krang had seemed ready to create a new knight order for him if necessary, and Aesia had subtly suggested he don the Scarlet Cloak, too.

The Marquis of Fertile Lands, now a duke, had said it outright.

["Why not stay in the capital and join the knight order? I believe it would be a fine opportunity for you."]

Where Marquis Vaisar had sought a connection by becoming his patron, the Duke of Fertile Lands had wanted him to become a new pillar of the realm.

Encrid had calmly passed over every offer. At the time, all he'd wanted was to return and swing his sword in peace, morning and evening.

"No particular reason."

That needed more explanation, so he added,

"I just followed my heart."

Deeper down, it was because he hadn't seen the kind of knight he aspired to be. Encrid hadn't found chivalry there. He had seen the capital's knight order, but had there been chivalry within it? Honor? Good faith? Steadfast principles?

Help the weak. Take up your sword and fight for justice. A battlefield where children did not fight. The battles of those who protected the people behind them. Things called virtues, now disregarded.

Encrid felt no need to don the Scarlet Cloak to walk his chosen path. That was the underlying reason for saying he'd followed his heart.

"The knight order I wanted wasn't there, either."

Knowing his explanation was insufficient, Encrid spoke as though simply listing his thoughts. It wasn't a long explanation, but it conveyed his meaning well enough.

"Dreaming big, aren't you?"

That was what Rem would have said. Jaxon merely frowned at Encrid's words.