After hearing the whole story, Aesia forgot her exhaustion for a moment and smiled. The dwindling supplies had left her thoroughly irritated. The fact that a proto knight had to go out personally to bring in a handful of merchants showed just how bad things were. What an inefficient way to get things done.

That was the sort of city Thousand Brick was. Even a proto knight had no room to put on airs here. Aesia, too, had needed time to adjust. The feeling of watching Sir Oara hammer in a nail with the flat of her shortsword was difficult to put into words. It was like watching someone plow a field with a holy sword.

Yet Sir Oara had smiled.

Bright-Smiling Oara.

Oara of the Smile.

Oara the Smiling Sword.

Oara of the Sunny Smile.

The knight's nicknames were all much alike. She smiled often.

Aesia had seen that smile and immediately written a request for a few craftsmen, sending it to the palace by pigeon.

"You're the best. Handsome, too. As expected."

Shaking off her recollections, Aesia raised a thumb.

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

"A Sir Oara-style compliment."

Aesia seemed to have become much better at joking, too. Encrid listened to the rest of his assignments besides Jack the Swordsman.

One of the deserters had reportedly joined forces with Cultists to found a new religion. In other words, a sham faith. Aesia said he had established himself nearly two years ago. His following was now sizable, which seemed to point to Cultist involvement.

"I'd love to hunt him down and kill him right now, but if a wave hits while Sir Oara is away, we're finished."

For the same reason, Aesia could not readily leave, either. Those harpy bastards and other monsters were constantly testing the city. The moment she left, she said, an attack of alarming proportions would occur.

Encrid's arrival at a time like this was welcome for many reasons. Still, Aesia did not expect too much. This was not a straightforward battle: the enemy had to be tracked, pursued, and driven out.

The leader of that new evil cult was incredibly quick to flee. Otherwise, she would have gritted her teeth, scraped together the time, and killed him already. Frankly, if Encrid had not come, she had meant to seize an opportunity and go fuck him up herself. These were not even cult bishops, just half-assed bastards babbling about being religious leaders and gods. She could go alone, slit their throats, and return.

Encrid asked a few more questions: the colonies' locations and sizes, and the distinguishing features of that religious group. Aesia answered as best she could.

"You saw the tavern, right? The owner will know more than I do."

"He looked furious about the drinking ban."

"He's known for being a good fellow. Just order a few dishes and strike up a conversation. Oh, there's something to watch out for with those religious frauds. I hear they have a swordsman who uses magic."

"What sort of magic?"

If the man used spells, caution was necessary. He might spew flames from his hands, or entangle someone in something like a spiderweb. Encrid had experienced all sorts of things while sparring with Esther. Those bouts had not brought him any new revelations, but they had at least familiarized him with fighting a mage. That was why he had asked.

"They say he put a hole in someone's stomach without even touching them."

Aesia held her hand edge-on and mimed a thrust into the air.

She said a few soldiers had fallen victim to it, then added that she would put holes in every one of those fraudulent bastards' ugly mugs if she ever got her hands on them.

Encrid had heard everything he needed, but going out to look would not make them appear. There were also three recently formed colonies. This was not called the Demonic Realm borderlands for nothing. Leave the place alone for a while and the crazy monster bastards would gather, build nests, and raise hell.

"Welcome to Thousand Brick, in the Demonic Realm borderlands."

Aesia offered the greeting anew, and Encrid nodded calmly.

Being near the Demonic Realm changed nothing. There were a few more monsters than elsewhere, but Border Guard was no different in that regard.

Aesia was busy, and for now, rest seemed her first priority. The dark shadows beneath her eyes might soon give birth to an evil spirit. As a proto knight, she could be confident in her stamina, but too many exhausting things had piled up lately.

"I've been up for two nights. Thanks to those harpy bastards."

If they attacked all at once, she could lead the troops out to fight. Instead, a few trickled in, watched from a distance, harassed anything that looked vulnerable, and fled otherwise. Even a proto knight had trouble catching harpies that used spells as they escaped.

She could catch them if she set her mind to it, but they were pestering the city from much too far away. It might have been different if the bastards came anywhere near a watchtower, but they rarely approached Thousand Brick's outer watchtowers or walls.

When the merchants were being brought in, the harpies had spotted them and eagerly attacked. Aesia had rushed over afterward to fight them. Even then, she had counted herself lucky. It was a chance to kill at least a few of those fucking bastards.

"Milio. Show them around. Their lodgings and the dining hall."

"Understood."

Aesia left to rest, entrusting them to Milio, the soldier they had seen by the gate.

Encrid glanced around for any commotion in the city: swearing, a fight, anything of the sort. He was looking for Rem. Nothing stood out. It remained a moderately noisy, moderately smelly city.

Most of that smell was sweat. The sour reek of sweat-soaked clothing mingled with the humid air in a magnificent harmony. People working their muscles or swinging weapons were a common sight.

"On one, a monster's skull!"

"On two, smash it!"

"Die with a smile!"

"Oa!"

Chants reached them, too. Six people were exercising together with a log. Most numerous were those maintaining long bows and making arrows. They, too, were dripping with sweat. It was the sort of weather that drew sticky sweat from you even when you stood still.

The wafting smell was not quite rotten, but it assaulted the nose with sheer unpleasantness. Dunbachel, who had been frowning repeatedly at the odor from the outset, finally clapped a hand over her nose.

"They stink. Don't these people wash?"

"Have you no shame?"

Encrid chided her.

"What did I do? I washed ten days ago."

Encrid resolved to shove her headfirst into a bathtub today, if their lodgings had one. Ten days ago meant during their journey here. At a stream, Dunbachel had wet her fingertips and rubbed a few drops over her face. That was what she was calling a wash.

"I hope the tub's sturdy."

Sensing something ominous in his words, Dunbachel eased a step back. Not that it would change the outcome.

As a Frog, Luagarne was accustomed to humid air. No, she enjoyed it. The smell was tolerable, too. Frogs could regrow even severed limbs, and were rather insensitive to such discomforts. Humidity was actually welcome. This was a race whose idea of an occasional holiday was to sit half-submerged in a lake.

They were not frogs, but they liked everything a frog might like. Catching insects with a flick of the tongue and rubbing mud over themselves in waterside swamps ranked among their favorite ways to relax.

Luagarne recalled the occasional special accommodations made for her at the palace.

"I wonder if there's a bathtub full of mud."

Naturally, there was nothing like that here.

"Mud, you say?"

Milio responded to Luagarne's remark. The soldier with the deep, resonant voice still wanted to face Encrid, but for now he devoted himself to his assigned task. He was a soldier who did his duty.

"There's a swamp if you go out the western gate and skirt the gray forest, but you mustn't go there. That swamp is always covered in poisonous fog."

That seemed like something he need not have mentioned. Thinking so, Encrid turned his gaze away.

The city came into view. He had seen it earlier, but it was an unusual sight. Houses stood far apart, and the dirt road running through the city connected its two gates.

Most buildings sat atop foundations of neatly laid bricks raised above the ground. He had wondered why, but the ground here was prone to flooding when it rained. Drainage ditches had also been dug throughout the city to prevent it, mostly following the slope of the land from high ground to low.

The most striking was the enormous ditch dug through the center, like a small cave with no roof. Wouldn't a small stream form there when it rained? Had a Giant come and dug it?

"Sir Oara's handiwork," Milio said, following Encrid's gaze. He was a perceptive soldier in many ways. His manner of speaking was rough, but a kind heart showed through.

According to him, the knight had even taken up a shovel. Should Encrid be surprised? He wasn't sure, so he let it pass. In any case, thanks to that absurdly large central ditch, none of the houses looked likely to suffer flood damage when it rained.

He observed the other sights as well. A general store, a grocer's, a tavern, a few empty houses, a smithy, a shop displaying butchered meat, shops that did not seem to be doing any business, isolated buildings with half-broken wooden training dummies between them, and a shop selling stacks of firewood.

"Outside merchants hand over their goods and take their Krona, but here, most purchases are made with contribution credits."

Milio chose the information they needed. The city ran in an unusual way.

"Contribution credits?"

Dunbachel's voice sounded nasal through her pinched nose. Milio looked at her, nodded, and continued explaining.

"Yes. You earn them by taking down monsters and killing demonic beasts. Or you can do something useful for the city, like rebuilding the gate. If you want a big payout in one go, you can help Sir Oara when she fights. Didn't you kill some harpies earlier? Spellcasting harpies are a variant, so that should cover your food and lodging for ten days."

Thinking it an unusual system, Encrid looked around. Few of the people he saw were unarmed. Every one of them carried a bow. They also all wore bar-shaped insignia on their shoulders.

"Oh, those don't mark their units. They're more like ranks. They're loosely based on Naurilia's soldier grading system. Once a month, one of the knight order's squires gives us instruction, too."

One bar meant low grade, two intermediate grade, and three high grade. Angled bars marked commanders. It was similar to the palace's system, though slightly different. Putting insignia on the shoulders so people could recognize ranks at a glance was a good idea.

'That would be useful in Border Guard, too.'

As Encrid looked around the city, something felt strange. The smell was foul, but he felt at ease. It was like coming home. This was not his actual hometown, but something in the air put his heart at rest.

The unpleasant, clammy weather had not changed. Sticky sweat still ran down his skin, enough to make him want a bath immediately. It was weather that warranted grabbing Dunbachel by the head and slamming her into a tub for refusing to wash even now.

He spotted two soldiers fighting with wooden clubs in a small clearing.

'Sparring.'

They were not quarreling, but testing each other's skills. Stripped to the waist, the two swung their long wooden clubs.

The instant he saw them, he understood. This was not a city.

'It's a barracks, not a city.'

Thousand Brick was a city in name alone. It was one enormous barracks. He thought he understood why it had to be that way: to fend off the endless attacks of monsters and demonic beasts.

There was no farmland, nor was this a major trading hub. Without farmers or merchants, who would fill the city? Everyone was a combatant.

'She turned the entire city into a barracks.'

Who else could have done it? The knight Oara. It was her handiwork.

"Here we are. You'll stay here, and you can eat on the ground floor. Tell them you're the Demon Killer. You're famous, so they'll all know you."

It was a fairly spacious brick building, seemingly in better condition than Sir Oara's residence. Its door was covered in graffiti. All sorts of messages had been carved into it with something sharp, like a knife.

Run, everyone. It's not too late.

Live forever. For Sir Oara.

I'll smash monsters' skulls. For the rest of my life.

Oa!

Die with a smile!

Those were the sorts of things it said.

Encrid pushed the door open. If this place was a barracks, then every citizen was effectively a warrior.

Inside, he saw the soldier and prostitute who had been arguing earlier. Both had changed clothes. The soldier was carrying food in shabby linen, while the woman was armed. She wore thin leather armor with a shortbow slung diagonally across her back, a light kit that made her look ready to leave for battle or a mission.

"Welcome."

The male soldier greeted them, and the woman glanced at Encrid.

"So you're the Demon Killer? You're awfully handsome."

Had the unit always been like this? Or had Sir Oara's influence made it this way? The woman spoke her mind without reservation. At her words, most of the people in the dining hall turned to look at Encrid.

"... Looks aren't everything in a man," said the soldier carrying the food.

Luagarne could not help stepping forward.

"His other qualities are excellent, too."

Nonsense. Encrid ignored it and sat down. The woman approached him.

"I'm Rowena. A squad leader."

She commanded ten people.

"I saw you in the alley earlier," Encrid said, curious.

"Oh, that's my side job."

Everyone living in this city was a soldier.

"Come find me if you need anything."

Her words carried a double meaning. Whether she meant daytime work or nighttime work was anyone's guess.

"I doubt that'll happen. He might not even have one."