The journey back was much like the journey out: camping beside crackling fires and occasionally sparring with Rem. Encrid focused on practicing what he had learned along the way and revisiting his earlier realizations.

Did understanding something mean he could do it immediately? No.

'How can I use Will at every moment, even while I sleep?'

It required thought. He would have to puzzle it out and try different things. Not everything would work as he wished, but there was no need to grow impatient.

One night, they were camping out again. They sat chatting quietly, firelight illuminating their faces beneath the bright moons and stars.

"The Sky God will be letting a little water fall in three or four days at most," Rem said.

In continental terms, he meant it would rain. It was the turn of the season, when the fierce heat faded and the seasonal rains came. There would probably be a few days of scattered showers, followed by a lull, then a downpour. The downpours were still some way off.

"Ugh, rain."

Dunbachel hated rain. She did not have hydrophobia; she simply disliked water. That was her preference. Most Beastmen were reluctant to wash, but she seemed worse than most.

They had finished sparring, and on finding a small stream along the way, had washed their dishes thoroughly and taken a quick bath. They could have stopped at Thousand Brick, but that would have meant a detour, so they had chosen to camp.

There was nothing uncomfortable about it. Luagarne procured her own meals, and Dunbachel diligently hunted animals for the others. Once, she had even caught a large deer, allowing them to feast. With Rem or Encrid doing the cooking, their meals were quite excellent for field fare.

"I hear you sent someone to the West?"

After the talk of rain, Rem asked the question across the fire.

"They said they were short of food."

Encrid sliced a piece from the roasted haunch of the deer caught yesterday, which they were still eating today, and put it in his mouth as he spoke. Salt and spices acquired in the West had made the roast rich and savory.

It struck Rem anew how surprisingly considerate this man was. He had been that way since his days as Squad Leader. Not only did he take on the tiresome chores, but he approached everything with respect for the other person.

'He was a good listener, too.'

Had they all accepted him as Squad Leader simply because he could take a beating? No. Encrid knew how to listen to others, whether it was Rem, that directionless bastard, the alley cat, or the big bear of a religious nut.

He was still the same now.

The night sky, the stars and two moons, the campfire, the late hour. For whatever reason, they had not seen a single monster all day and had had no occasion to exert themselves. They had washed and sat down without even sparring.

They had been sitting without much to say. Then Rem had asked about sending someone to the West, and it turned out Encrid had asked for a great load of food to be sent. It would have arrived by now. Was the chieftain crying? He had always been easily moved, even as a child.

Then...

"I'm thinking of heading back ahead of you."

Dunbachel spoke abruptly. Encrid listened to her as well, rather than brushing her words aside. Rem recalled how he had used sparring as an excuse to beat her yesterday.

'Had enough of getting beaten?'

He wanted to dismiss the idea and tell her she could forget it, but Encrid spoke first.

"Would you like to?"

He sounded as though it were nothing out of the ordinary.

White hair, golden eyes. Reddish light cast shadows around the bridge of the Beastman's nose, illuminating her face. One light came from the red fire; the other was the moonlight, shining with particular exuberance tonight. Without any wind, the embers rose straight into the sky.

CRACKLE, CRACKLE.

It was a night when even the sound of burning wood felt companionable.

"I'm going to try the East," Dunbachel continued.

"Why the East?"

Encrid turned the spit holding the haunch beside the fire as he asked. Dunbachel was no eloquent speaker, either. But she did not mince words.

"I think there's something I could learn under the King of the East."

She wanted to learn more. Who here would understand that better than anyone?

Was that really necessary? Couldn't she learn enough by staying here?

There were plenty of objections to raise, but it was plain she had given this some thought. Was this what she had been thinking about whenever she sat staring into space? He had seen her do that a few times. Perhaps it was.

"Then go."

Encrid met Dunbachel's eyes and nodded.

"Think nobody there will nag you?" Rem put in.

"I'm not leaving because of the nagging. And I'll come back."

She had built something atop all those days of fleeing, escaping, denying herself simply to survive. Proof.

She would show the world that there was nothing wrong with her—that she had been born, had lived, and was allowed to keep living. She wanted to show it.

Fighting was all Dunbachel knew, too. So she had to be good at it. But being good was not the end of it.

The impetus for this change, the inspiration, had all come from the man named Encrid. Why had she viewed him as an object of desire, as a Beastman would? She had thought it was because she wanted offspring, but that was not it. She had begun wanting to be respected for something other than her skill.

Was that still true? No. She no longer saw Encrid as an object of desire. He was a light that would never go out. At least, he was to Dunbachel.

The problem was that her swordplay was not much help. What use was a Beastman who knew nothing but fighting if she was weak? Did she still want her worth to be proved by her usefulness as a "woman"?

'I don't want that.'

Dunbachel was honest with herself. Prove herself as a woman? Not now, at least. Her experiences in the city of Oara had helped her grow. That was why she was leaving.

In the East lived a monster of a Beastman who had attained the rank of knight. Dunbachel understood instinctively: the King of the East was a Beastman, and he would be the best guidepost she could find right now.

She would learn his techniques somehow. Even if she had to steal them. By leaving this place, she would climb higher. The King of the East and those harsh lands would provide a fitting stage.

Go there, face death, and somehow survive. That was her short-term goal. Then she would return, stand beside the source of her inspiration, and prove herself.

Encrid's dream was vast, grand, and seemed impossibly difficult. But even if it ended in failure, she wanted to be a blade at his side. That was Dunbachel's long-term goal. That was how she would prove herself.

"Yeah, right," Rem said obnoxiously.

"Brain-damaged barbarian."

Dunbachel voiced her feelings without hesitation.

"Oh, sure. Time for a beating. A spar, is it? How delightful."

Rem clenched his fists and started to rise.

"Leave her alone."

Encrid stopped him. Rem had not really intended to beat her, either. He could indulge that sort of grumbling from Dunbachel once.

"It's a long way to the East."

Encrid explained the route as far as he knew it. Dunbachel had a plan of her own.

"I'll stop in Martai to replenish my supplies."

"So you do use that thing on top of your neck sometimes," Rem said admiringly.

"Yes. Unlike someone I know."

Dunbachel ended up taking a blow to the head. Encrid chuckled.

"Laughing when someone else gets hit is a bad habit."

Had it started back in Oara? At some point, Dunbachel had begun saying whatever was on her mind.

"If you act like that in the East, I imagine quite a few people will want to hunt you down and kill you."

Encrid voiced his genuine concern.

"If I couldn't even say what I wanted, I wouldn't have said I was going to the East."

Dunbachel had made up her mind and would not waver.

"Quite right. Once you have chosen your path, you ought to follow it," Luagarne said from beside them, stirring the fire.

The fire crackled, and embers shot skyward before fading. Some dreams would be no more than those sparks, briefly lighting the vast, magnificent night sky before disappearing. But knowing that, seeing the end ahead, was no reason to stop.

That was why Encrid supported Dunbachel. Whether she went to the East or anywhere else, if there was something she wanted, something she longed for, pursuing it was the right thing to do.

The night deepened. Two humans, a Beastman, and a Frog wrapped themselves in broad cloaks and lay down beside the fire. It was time to sleep.

They lay side by side, each feeling a certain warmth and encouragement. The moonlight was especially lovely and bright tonight. Had someone nearby captured it on canvas, it might have made a scene of lyrical beauty.

Lying amid that warmth, Rem spoke.

"You stupid Beastman, do you want to die? It's your turn on sentry duty."

Dunbachel exclaimed, "Ah," and got up.

"I forgot."

"Something to be proud of."

"I'm not proud, but it could happen to anyone."

"... You're not wrong, so why do I keep wanting to beat you?"

"Because you have violent tendencies. You're not satisfied unless you're beating someone up."

"Rem."

After stopping Rem, who had finally put a hand on his axe, Encrid closed his eyes. Despite the threat to her life only moments before, Dunbachel hummed. Her tune mingled with the crackling fire. It made a fine lullaby.

* * *

When did an ordinary human reach their prime? Giants were said to be in their prime from birth until death. Frogs, they said, reached theirs when most faithful to their desires.

That was true. Lately, Luagarne had felt some improvement in her fighting methods and overall abilities.

A human's prime was said to be brief, but to burn with a great flame. The notion of a prime meant little to Fairies or dwarves, but humans had short lives. More precisely, relative to their lifespans, humans and Beastmen could be said to reach their prime in young adulthood.

Those who relied on their bodies usually shone brightest between twenty and thirty. Even at the most generous estimate, before forty. Did that mean no human improved past thirty?

'Of course they do.'

That was why Luagarne had concluded that everyone's prime was different. The proof stood before her now. Though Encrid was entering his mid-thirties, he was still growing, shining more brilliantly than ever.

Those who reached the realm of knights would need to be judged by another standard, and there was no telling how Encrid might develop then. That still made "it" within Luagarne beat.

"What a delight."

That was why she said it as they walked.

"What is?" Encrid asked.

Instead of answering, Luagarne began a lesson. Though her abilities had fallen behind those of the man before her, she still had much to teach him.

"Are all knights the same?"

Encrid's eyes began to shine at her question. It was an interesting one. He was not especially curious about her remark about delight. He could ask what delighted her later. If she did not want to answer, he did not need to hear it.

"They must be different," Encrid answered.

That was what his own experience told him.

"This is a framework established by the Knight of the Pen. Would you care to hear it?"

The Knight of the Pen was the epithet of a historically renowned knight who wrote and recited poetry. He was also an eccentric, said to have been more passionate about teaching letters than teaching the sword.

"You have my full attention."

Encrid slowed his pace a little. So the account began. Walking alongside them, Rem listened as well. It was intriguing in several ways. Among other things, he wondered how it differed from spells.

"What do you think is the first and greatest difference one notices upon becoming a knight?"

"The eyes," Encrid answered immediately.

He had experienced that change in what he could perceive himself. It had been different as a proto knight from how it was now. It changed as he learned day by day. He loosely called it the eyes, but he actually meant a change in perception encompassing all five senses and even the Sixth Sense.

Rem nodded.

"Taking that as the starting point for distinguishing between knights, the first is the eyes. It is called foresight."

It was the same as Eyes That See One Step Ahead. In other words, the perceptiveness to read and understand an opponent's intentions through their movements. Though called perceptiveness, it essentially referred to the senses used to gauge an opponent. Thus, foresight and insight were used to mean the same thing.

"After the eyes comes the body: ironclad."

Luagarne spoke, her large eyes on Encrid's flank, which Rem's kick had torn. His body was extraordinarily tough compared with an ordinary person's. To reach this point, he had subjected it to a foolish amount of pounding. It was a method Audin had taught him.

"Ironclad refers to the skin all over the body hardening as it becomes imbued with Will."

Rem nodded again. There was something similar among spells.

"Next comes strongleg: legs of great strength."

Several more concepts followed. Seeing clearly through insight, hardening in an instant, strengthening the leg muscles. Then expansion, transference, words of power, and time.

Expansion meant spreading Will throughout the body without obstruction. Transference meant conveying Will elsewhere. Words of power meant imbuing even speech with Will; at that, even Rem gave a thoughtful hum and shook his head slightly. Time, she said, meant walking through different flows of time.

Half of it was incomprehensible even after hearing the explanation. To Encrid, at least. Rem understood most of it. Though a few concepts felt unfamiliar, he had experienced the majority firsthand.

"You can't explain it in words. You understand once you've done it," Rem added as they walked.

There was no putting into words the subtle sensations gained by feeling that omnipotence and then bringing it under control.

Encrid nodded calmly. Hearing such things still made him feel as though a roaring flame were rising inside him. He would become a knight. He had run and run in pursuit of that wish to reach this point.

"And there were two things even the author could not be certain of."

"What were those?"

Rem asked. It seemed reasonably accurate; nothing he had heard so far was fanciful. The author had been a knight, so that made sense.

"There is said to be a stage that never runs dry or ceases, which he called Usquera. And another stage in which what one possesses is itself different, which he called Indules. The terms are from the ancient tongue."

That was new to him. Rem let it pass, while Encrid committed every detail to memory.

His experiences so far had brought one realization home to him: talent or no talent, he had to climb through every single stage, one at a time. As it happened, he had already begun training in foresight and ironclad.

"You said that training method came from a soldier of yours who is devoted to religion? It has been used for generations to give paladins their toughness. I can only wonder where he learned it."

Luagarne continued speaking. Both Encrid and Rem had a rough idea of where Audin had learned it. Where else? His behavior alone made his origins easy to guess.

"I'm off."

Dunbachel left at a fork along the way. She was not going to be mauled to death by a passing monster. She might get thrashed by Rem here, but with her abilities, she could be regarded as a monster in a small city. Her keen hearing at night would keep her alert even in her sleep. Being alone posed no danger to her.

"Off you go."

"If you get yourself killed on the way, you won't be coming back."

"Walking as you intend—those are truly your own steps."

At Encrid's, Rem's, and Luagarne's farewells, Dunbachel waved, turned, and left.

Encrid and the others resumed their steady walk. When they set foot in what might be called Border Guard's territory—the land Encrid had received along with being called General—they found a construction site blocking their way.

Walls were rising, and a new city was taking shape on what had been empty land. There were cut stones, a group who looked as though they belonged to a stonemasons' guild, and soldiers camped in tents beside them.

PITTER-PATTER.

Rain began to fall, and the party quickened their pace.

"How long has it been since we last had rain?"

Luagarne was delighted. She was no frog, but she was a Frog who loved rain.

Encrid realized that autumn had come before he knew it. The cooler air and falling seasonal rain were the first things to welcome him home.