Nurat was the adjutant to the Battalion Commander stationed in Green Pearl.

'What was that Battalion Commander's name again?'

Encrid thought for a moment, but it wouldn't come to him. All he remembered was that the man composed poetry and sang well. Some things did slip away while he repeated today. No memory could be perfect, however good it was.

But he remembered Nurat. Dark skin, a generous heart, supple muscles, Krais's lover. Those memories overlapped with something he had come to understand.

He had realized anew that a Frog's talent-reading eyes weren't infallible. However discerning an observer might be, their judgment couldn't always be right. Even so, judging by Nurat's posture and gait, she certainly looked to have reached a considerable level. Unless she had learned the Bluffing Walk of the Valen Mercenary Sword Technique, she seemed to have broken through a wall.

"You've improved, haven't you?" Encrid asked matter-of-factly.

"Me? I have been training hard. Do I look a bit fitter?"

Krais flexed his biceps, but Encrid didn't so much as glance his way.

Nurat had just lifted her left foot and set it down as though pressing the ground with her entire sole. More precisely, she was distributing her weight across the whole foot so she could respond to any movement at any moment. That would let her react instantly, whether to the left or the right.

Rem let out a quiet, admiring "Oh," while Luagarne's large eyes rolled about as she inspected Nurat. Her talent struck Luagarne as extraordinary too. She had been born with a different sort of body. With those supple muscles, her physique had nothing to envy in a Beastman's. On that foundation, she had laid the bricks of effort and grueling training one by one, and now they were bearing fruit.

Encrid rose and brushed off his backside. No dust rose. Dark clouds hung sullenly overhead, and rain had been starting and stopping all day.

"You do know Nurat is my lover, don't you?"

Krais spoke because Encrid was staring at her. Ignoring his nonsense, Encrid spoke again.

"Not bad."

It was a remark ripe for misunderstanding, but Nurat took it correctly. In truth, Krais understood perfectly too. He was only cracking a joke after their long separation. Nurat bowed her head in a brief military salute.

Rem and Luagarne had a rough grasp of what had happened. Rather than deciding that Nurat had suddenly improved, they understood what lay behind that improvement. In short, she had been inspired. It was clearly thanks to the monster whose talent was inspiring others.

Encrid might not know it, but his very presence was a superb spur to action. It wasn't only Nurat: the soldiers' overall standard had risen because Encrid was there, utterly serious about training at all times.

Some people were like that. Listening to them made you question whether you were doing enough with your own life. They made a desire to act well up inside you on the spot. Through his attitude, his actions, and the life he had led, Encrid had done that to everyone around him. He inspired motivation.

'Come to think of it, I've been working pretty hard too, haven't I?'

Rem reflected on that. He had trained and honed himself as never before. Part of it was wanting to bash in the heads of the bastards around him, but ultimately, watching Encrid struggle day after day made his own hands itch to get to work. And he wouldn't be the only one. They spurred one another on.

Knight orders had been founded for a similar reason: to give people a knight to look up to, a guidepost to advance toward. Of course, knights were such bundles of talent that they could become symbols of frustration and despair instead. And there probably wasn't a single bastard among them this obsessed with swinging a sword.

"Anyway, welcome back," Krais said with another smile.

"Let's have breakfast," Encrid said. After all that exertion, he was getting hungry.

While everyone tidied the training ground and dispersed of their own accord, they went into the dining hall beside the quarters. Servants bustled in with food for the large table in their private room. The meal was a whole, expertly roasted pig, its meat carved into slices and sprinkled with lime.

Rem and Jaxon tried to fight with their forks even as they ate, so Encrid sat between them. He and Luagarne were used to their hostility and took it in stride. Sinar had never cared in the first place. But the guards accompanying Krais were on edge. Seated at the next table, they were visibly tense in their shoulders and legs.

"Who are those fellows?"

Only then did Encrid ask. One of the guards sprang up from the next table.

"Sir! I'm Ilanbeits, from the Luabang region!"

It wasn't the sort of name Encrid often heard. The man seemed naturally fair-skinned, though his travels outdoors appeared to have tanned him somewhat. Standing there, Ilanbeits looked at Encrid with shining eyes.

"I admire you, sir."

Half the guards were like him, men captivated by Encrid's renown. The other half seemed to be mercenaries simply doing a job, but they all paid him their respects.

"Where do you find all these guys?" Rem asked beside him.

Krais chewed and swallowed his roast pork before answering.

"People kept picking fights with me. I didn't have a choice."

"What fights?"

Contrary to appearances, Rem had a quick mind. Given the city's size and the king's protection, no one should have any reason to pick a fight with Krais. The fellow even had the city's criminal guild under his thumb. Had someone taken it from him?

"It's nothing much. A few of the neighboring nobles dislike how strongly the king favors the territory of Border Guard."

To rule was to govern. And governing meant soothing one person's feelings after another. Throwing out and beating everyone you disliked would only make you a tyrant.

Krang had already eliminated Count Molsen during the civil war, and a number of nobles had fallen with him. Some had risen to the nobility, and others had recovered from ruin, but more had died than either. That wouldn't mean he had failed to govern. However diligently Krang kept his own house in order, there were always fools who refused to learn.

If Rem understood, there was no reason Encrid wouldn't. He too had a rough grasp of the situation.

'One idiot looking for trouble.'

An idiot, but one who had correctly identified a vital asset in keeping the city running, judging by his choice of Krais as a target. Or had he tried Graham first and gotten nowhere? That was probably it.

Encrid worked his jaw as he sorted out his thoughts. Juices burst from the meat, delighting his tongue.

Krais had tried exploiting noble factions and invoking the king's name to set them against one another, hoping to turn their attention away from Border Guard. He had failed. He was clever, but clever wasn't perfect. Everyone made mistakes. Besides, with the city's recent expansion, avoiding notice had been difficult.

Of course, Encrid hadn't deduced Krais's failure. He had merely identified an idiot looking for trouble. More precisely, he had learned that the man was some great noble's cousin, and roughly where his city was. That was enough. This wasn't a question of Krais making mistakes or lacking ability. The man picking the fight was the problem.

"The city's grown."

As soon as Encrid broached the subject, Krais took it up.

"Do you think it's just gotten bigger? It's what's inside that counts. What's inside."

He dipped a finger into his water cup, then drew a line on the tablecloth, steering clear of the scraps of food.

"We're connecting roads from here to here. This is Border Guard, and this is roughly where the capital is. Down here, they'll reach Martai and the other cities too."

The roads spread out from the point he had called Border Guard. While Encrid was away, Krais had gone all out to grow the city. And at the same time, his dream had grown with it.

'It would be a shame to stop at one city of pleasure.'

If only one city had a salon, wealthy people from far away would have trouble visiting. There was a better way, and Krais's keen mind had found it.

'Build a large salon in every city.'

Connect the roads, build guard posts along them, and establish a salon in every city whose safety was assured. He could scale each salon to suit the size of its city. He even had a rough idea for a name.

'Krais's Happy Bathhouse?'

He would pipe water in so people could bathe, eat, play, and sleep there.

"Once the safe roads are connected, trading companies will flock to them like moths to a flame. Then we'll charge a little to use the main routes. Toll roads."

The idea was novel enough that Encrid found himself nodding. Partway through, Rem and Jaxon went outside, saying they were going to have a bout. Luagarne left too, followed by Sinar. Before long, only Krais and Encrid remained.

"We won't build the walls high on the Aspen side," Krais continued.

"Why?"

"Because starting to build walls in front of Aspen would be like holding a knife to its throat, if Aspen were a person."

He meant that Aspen would see even a defensive move as aggression. More precisely, he didn't intend to give them an excuse. Instead of making the walls particularly high, he said, they were gradually extending the border.

Listening to everything else that had happened made it clear that Krais had worked tremendously hard. Yet he didn't consider it a hardship. He had lined his pockets nicely and enjoyed himself along the way. Taking guards everywhere was a little inconvenient, he added, but there was no helping it with people picking fights as he traveled from city to city.

"As long as we move around in a group like this, most people leave us alone. So, well, that's why."

Nurat alone could handle most opponents. But rather than waste time on pointless fights, he had chosen to bring a crowd with him.

Amid all these troublemakers and headaches, he had even created a new military branch. In some ways—no, in every way—Krais was a genius.

What he had created was cavalry, which he called the reconnaissance-interception unit. Raising cavalry was extremely difficult. For a start, raising warhorses was an immense undertaking. A horse needed more than speed to run across a battlefield. Timid horses had to be carefully calmed and trained.

Krais had somehow managed to recruit people with a talent for rearing horses and begin raising warhorses. But the riders? They had to handle those horses as though they were their own bodies. Building a proper cavalry force in a short time was out of the question. It wasn't a matter of a few months.

So should he give up? Krais hadn't. Instead, he had changed his approach. First, he selected and gathered the best riders from every unit. Then he put them through grueling training to improve their combat skills. Some dropped out, and he rejected others who looked fit for nothing but banditry, leaving him with only a small force. So he had to use them as an interception unit, rather than conventional cavalry.

That was the Green Pearl Mounted Scouts now led by Nurat. He said the name was provisional. Hearing all this reminded Encrid of Henri, whom he had met in the West.

His friend had gone from hunter to merchant. He would have goods to bring back. Although he would be passing through to use Border Guard's safe roads, they could probably buy some of his wares here.

'Wouldn't there be obsidian spears among the goods from the West?'

They weren't commonly used on the continent. Their brittle heads made them effective throwing spears, but they were far too fragile to wield in hand. The cavalry Border Guard had just formed, however, relied mainly on arrows and javelins.

Did that make this cavalry enormously powerful? Not quite, but facing it would certainly be a headache. Riders darting about, striking here and there?

'That would be annoying.'

That alone made the reconnaissance-interception unit worthwhile.

"Let's call them the Black Spear Cavalry."

"What?"

"The name."

"Hmm. We'd dye the spear shafts black?" Krais asked, guessing at what he meant.

Names held power. Some inspired fear just by being heard, or raised morale before a battle began. Aspen's Gray Hounds had earned the nickname Persistent Lovers for just that reason. Didn't it imply that once they set their sights on you, they would do anything to kill you?

As Krais murmured that Black Spear Cavalry sounded rather good, Encrid told him about some of the goods that would be coming from the West.

"That's a good idea."

That was the beginning of a mounted unit that ranged about using obsidian spearheads and spear-throwers. Goods from the West, horses born on the grasslands of Green Pearl, Krais's brains, and soldiers who had endured relentless training: the unit brought all of them together. Even so, it was still only a reconnaissance-interception unit.

"What about the rest of the scouts?"

"Pin leads them. She says she'll turn them all into rangers."

Specializing the soldiers. That was Krais's plan for a large-scale reorganization into branches, which Encrid had approved. They had standardized equipment for that purpose, dividing the troops into swordsmen, spearmen, archers, shield soldiers, cavalry, and mounted archers. Everything had been moving steadily forward even in his absence.

After they finished talking and left the dining hall, a wild horse with mismatched eyes snorted and suddenly tried to ram Encrid. He caught its head with his palm and redirected the force. It was Odd-Eyes, and of course it was only playing. It was much like greeting an old friend with a joke.

"Yes, it's been a while."

Encrid welcomed his friend with demonic-beast blood too. As he gripped and shook its mane, Odd-Eyes tossed its muzzle from side to side and snorted, seemingly delighted.

The city was too small for Odd-Eyes. Finding it stifling, the horse often spent all day roaming outside. Then it had come across a person its friend kept around and brought him here.

As Encrid stroked the horse's mane in greeting, he saw a shadow blocking the sunlight. Behind it stood a man with a black sword resting on his shoulder. He had blond hair and red eyes and wore thin leather clothes speckled with blood. Had he gone out without armor? He looked rather shabby, but there was nothing shabby about his swordsmanship.

"When did you get back?"

The greeting was as casual as if they had seen each other yesterday. Encrid chuckled and answered.

"A while ago."

"You got here while I was out for a quick walk."

The man murmured to himself. Judging by the blood on his clothes, he hadn't merely gotten lost; he had done some sword fighting somewhere too. He looked as though he hadn't eaten in days, let alone washed. Well, as always, none of that mattered very much.

"Let's fight, you ignorant northern swordsman who can't find his fucking way anywhere."

"... Why are you talking to me like I'm that barbarian?"

Ragna had frozen for a moment before replying. Being taunted the way Encrid taunted Rem rankled a little. He couldn't help it, even knowing that was exactly what Encrid wanted.

"Think you're such a good fighter? Follow me to the training ground."

Encrid ignored him and finished what he had to say.