A knight's martial might often shattered conventional expectations. The knight from Aspen he had encountered before was one such example.

Encrid stood lost in thought, sword in hand.

'What if I could have seen that knight's sword back then? What if I'd predicted his attack?'

Would predicting it have let him block it?

If anything mattered as much as moving his body, it was time spent in meditation. He sank into thought and conjured an image. The knight from Aspen rose in his mind, the arc of his sword vividly traced.

'It wasn't remarkable swordsmanship.'

He had simply swung. It had just been too strong and too fast. So much so that Encrid could not imagine blocking it, no matter what he tried.

Was that what a knight's strike was, then? Speed and strength impossible to block even when you could see it? Would watching knights truly fight astonish him?

Idle thoughts.

* * *

What was a knight?

The collective term for those who had broken the limits of humanity.

The King of the East was no knight, but he possessed equivalent martial might. He displayed that might without reserve. He was not showing everything he had, but anyone watching from close by would have been astonished.

A troll swung a stone axe bound tightly with woody vines. Too slow. By the time its shoulder moved, the king had already thrust his spear.

THUD!

The spearhead did more than pierce its skull. It burst it apart. Such was the result of a thrust backed by monstrous strength.

After bursting that skull, the king's spear swept sideways. With a series of dull thuds, troll skulls shattered wherever the shaft or blade struck.

To kill a troll, you either burned its entire body or cut off its head. Decapitation ultimately meant severing the connection between head and body. Smashing the skull had much the same effect.

Anu's spear proved it.

Thrusting, cutting, striking, smashing.

His first few movements seemed like a warm-up, but within a breath or two his spear grew faster still. Yet it flew unerringly for the trolls' heads.

It was like a swift swallow snatching up fish. A swallow born with a gift for hunting, at that. Not a single mistake. Not a single miss.

This display of finesse was for Rem, who was watching.

Anu killed twenty-odd trolls, each with a single blow. Black blood speckled his clothes, but considering the scale of the slaughter, it had left almost no trace on him.

Rem, who had split open three trolls' heads, stood staring at him. King Anu lowered his spear and looked at Rem, then tilted his head despite himself.

'Isn't this where he's supposed to be impressed?'

That was usually how it went. People generally started out astonished by his spearmanship and ended in admiration. But Rem's eyes held a deeply insolent gleam. He looked thoroughly disgruntled.

"Having fun doing it all yourself?"

His tone matched his expression. The king blinked.

"I don't think it worked, my lord."

Asalluhi, who had been watching, approached and whispered. He took the spear, carefully wiped its blade and shaft, then wrapped it in cloth again.

The adjutant had a fair idea of the king's intentions. He must have hoped to inspire admiration by displaying his extraordinary skill. Wasn't that why he had brought out his second weapon against mere trolls?

Rem considered grumbling some more, then stopped. If someone wanted to show off, wasn't it best to leave him to it?

"I'm not quite warmed up yet, so I'll do some more before heading back. Let's split up. Split up."

With that, Rem ambled off alone, as though being in the Penn-Hanil Mountains meant nothing.

To him, it was the natural response. He didn't care whether the other man was baffled. If he retrieved the spells he had left in the West, he could do what the King of the East had just shown him.

There was nothing to envy.

Those akin to knights used Will. His own methods were a little different, but as far as Rem was concerned, it amounted to the same thing.

"Let me ask you one thing."

The king addressed Rem as he turned away.

"Go on."

"Why are you here? Why do you stay by that man's side? What do you want that keeps you in this city?"

Rem answered as though it needed no thought.

"It's fun."

Why had he run out of the West in the first place? To find enjoyment. And right now, his enjoyment lay in watching where Encrid, who had clawed his way up from the very bottom, was headed.

When you thought about it, it was nothing grand. He followed his whims, and he was staying because he enjoyed this. It could also be taken to mean he would leave whenever he found something more enjoyable.

The king nodded at his answer.

"I see."

His response was matter-of-fact. Rem headed deeper into the mountains.

When the king returned from the hunt with only his adjutant, the big-eyed fellow with the irritating way of talking greeted him.

"Did you bury Rem out there? Gold coins might not settle that. We'd need gold bars at the very least..."

"He said he'd play a little longer on his own."

The king cut him short and strode inside. He spotted Audin.

"Audin, was it? Why do you remain here?"

"The Lord Father told me to."

"Lord? Father?"

There was no need for a long conversation. Taking care not to let the other man hear, Asalluhi whispered to the king.

"Isn't he a fanatic?"

The king was thinking the same thing. Whatever he asked, the only answers were that Audin had followed his god's teachings or that it was his god's design. The king nodded and turned his gaze elsewhere.

He saw Ragna fast asleep, and a half-Giant just passing in front of the barracks.

"Why do you remain here?" the king asked.

"I owe him my life."

Teresa answered in her distinctive voice, metallic yet strangely pleasant to hear. There was not a trace of levity in her manner.

A life debt. No one else could repay that for her.

"What I desire is to explore the unknown. Look at him. What a fascinating human. And handsome, too. Pleasant to look at. You, however, are not."

That was the Frog Luagarne's answer.

The King of the East took pride in his face, but knowing a Frog's aesthetic sensibilities, he offered only one remark.

"Have you hurt your eyes? Take another good look at my face, you visually impaired Frog."

"Are there no mirrors in the East?"

Naturally, Luagarne fired back without pausing for breath.

Dunbachel was next.

"If I back down here, I'll probably spend the rest of my life running away."

His offer to make her his daughter had been half a joke, but half serious. He could give her much if she came east, yet she rejected every offer.

"You do realize I'm a Beastman too?" the king asked.

"I don't think anyone here hasn't figured that out except that idiot."

Dunbachel meant the squire Roford.

Now that he had started, the king asked everyone he saw.

"I came here to set myself straight. How could I presume to go anywhere else?"

So said Roford, one eye swollen from a beating by someone or other.

"I'm one of the Shepherds of the Wastes. I'm only here briefly on business."

Pell concealed his true thoughts.

The King of the East glimpsed a competitive fire in Pell's eyes that he could not hide. The Shepherd's gaze was fixed on none other than Encrid. Not Ragna or Rem. Encrid.

That, too, was unusual, but not wholly incomprehensible. There was something about Encrid that made you want to challenge him just by watching him.

The king knew that as well.

He also saw a Fairy named Sinar come to visit. When he asked her, the Fairy answered,

"We have promised to become betrothed."

"She's joking."

Encrid's voice came immediately.

Encrid remarked once more on how hard Fairy jokes were to understand. The king did not bother probing Sinar's true thoughts. Even without her giving a reason, her answer made it clear she would not follow him.

Over the several days he stayed, the king met Jaxon as well.

"I have a fair idea where you're from. And it would be fair to call your skills Master-level."

How many people had eyes that could see through what Jaxon concealed at a glance? Yet he was not surprised. All manner of things happened when you stayed near Encrid. Wasn't he himself doing something he could never have imagined?

His lover had even told him,

["I never thought you'd change like this."]

Her words had made him take a fresh look at himself.

'Have I changed?'

He didn't know. But one thing was certain. Jaxon had found where he belonged, and he liked it.

So his answer to the king's question of why he was here was exceedingly simple.

"Because this is where I belong."

The king asked no more.

Having asked them one by one, he had received a different answer from each. They all remained for their own reasons, yet those reasons converged on one man.

One morning during all this, Ragna woke and came outside. The man had done nothing but sleep for over three days. The king turned his gaze toward him.

Ragna walked out with his usual gait, but the king knew he had crossed some wall. That did not mean he had become a knight on the spot. No one could become a knight in a single leap. That was not how knights were made. Heaven-sent talent had to be overlaid with tireless effort.

A change in presence that only he among those here could recognize...

'No, I'm not the only one who noticed.'

Come to think of it, that Rem fellow hadn't been particularly surprised even when shown his skill. Rem was the first to notice. The man who had not been astonished by the king's prowess was clenching his teeth, his face thoroughly disgruntled.

Audin was much the same. He had held firm even when the king subtly displayed his presence, yet the sight of a man just out of bed plunged him into serious contemplation. Then he immediately began a silent prayer, clasping his hands, turning his back, and bowing his head.

The king's gaze turned to Encrid.

'He has a good eye.'

That one had noticed too.

It struck him again what an utterly peculiar fellow Encrid was. Knock him down countless times, and he would rise and charge again. Wasn't he like a skeleton soldier that could never die?

The king knew something else, too. Ragna was desperate to use the strength he had just acquired, right this instant. Seeing it all, the king spoke.

"Follow me, and you can use that strength to your heart's content."

He dispensed with everything else and struck straight at the heart of the matter. His words were like a spearhead piercing an enemy's heart in one stroke.

Words that could sway anyone. For someone who had just crossed a wall, they were certain to stir temptation.

The king folded his arms and looked at Ragna. Presence and dignity spread naturally from him. It was an air only the king of a nation, possessed of a knight's martial might, could project.

"There are few places where you can use your strength without restraint. Come where you can be free and satisfy your yearning. This country cannot contain you."

He was telling him to seek a wider world rather than be confined within the framework of a knight order.

Encrid, who had been practicing his sword off to one side, was also watching the changed Ragna. Rem was there, along with Audin, Teresa, and Dunbachel. Roford and Pell were away on duty. Encrid insisted that whatever their reasons for staying, none could skip their obligations—in other words, their shifts.

At any rate, everyone but those two was looking at Ragna. With a languid expression, he squinted into the morning sun and spoke.

"It's too much trouble."

Ragna had at least used a polite tone, but the substance of his answer was anything but.

"... Too much trouble?"

Forgetting his dignity, the king echoed him.

Plenty of people had shown him hostility. But this was the first to call it too much trouble.

"Thinking about the journey all the way east is too much trouble."

Ragna made his meaning clear again. However good he was at finding his way, it would take more than half a year. Normally, on a fine horse ridden without pause, it was a journey of fifteen days.

The king gave a hollow laugh. His adjutant Asalluhi watched his expression, worried that he might be angry. Fortunately, the king neither erupted in anger nor appeared to be suppressing it.

"Too much trouble."

He only murmured the words.

Ragna found explaining every detail tiresome too. He had gained an insight, and now that he had finished turning it over, his senses were out of alignment. He would probably have to work up a thorough sweat for several days to put them right.

Above all, he had no intention whatsoever of following the King of the East. Calling it too much trouble was not a lie, but...

'If I'm to place one man above me and follow his orders...'

Shouldn't it be the man who had brought him this far? Look at that lunatic watching him from the side, his eyes blazing. Without that man, Jaxon would never have found the motivation.

Everything still felt like a chore, but seeing those eyes made motivation surge. He wanted to spend three sleepless nights swinging his sword until his senses aligned, then smash his blade against that famed sword, Aker.

The king watched Ragna, then turned his head.

"Perhaps we should head back soon," his adjutant said.

The king nodded, but did not seem inclined to leave immediately.

Another day passed.

A little rain had fallen the night before and that morning, and now the sun shone through the clouds. The sunlight was gentle, the air cool. It was unlike an ordinary summer day. The afternoon after the rain was neither humid nor hot. Cool and clear. That kind of day.

On that day, Encrid kept the king occupied until evening.

"Can we go once more?"

"We can."

Another spar. Did he never tire of it?

The king won by driving his elbow into the area around Encrid's solar plexus. He hit him quite hard, but the fellow's body was tough. He took it remarkably well.

After the spar, the king looked up at the sky. Before he knew it, the sun was sinking and a world of twilight was unfolding. The orange sunset filled the clouds and spilled toward the earth.

Amid that soon-to-fade twilight, the king spoke.

"What do you think lies in the East? Gold? Silver? Iron? Treasure? I don't know. No one knows what lies there. And that is what makes my heart beat."

They stood in a corner of the training ground, where sunset was settling. The king spoke of his dream. Encrid listened.

Goose bumps swept over Encrid several times. Following the king's words, he sometimes saw visions as though he were exploring unknown lands and ruins where anything might emerge. Like Krang, the man spoke as though burning his very soul.

"Conquering new lands. That is my battle. That is my struggle. What do you think?"

The king asked, consumed by fervor.

Anyone might have been intoxicated by that fervor. It was a speech that made you want to agree with him, respect his intentions, trust him, and follow him. A speech delivered to an audience of precisely one.

The man called the King of the East poured out his passion.

Encrid answered.

"Do you know the song 'The Knight Who Would End the War'?"

Just as the other man had spoken of his dream, Encrid spoke of his own. The story of a dream born from a common wandering song, a dream faded and torn, yet mended and held fast.