Ragna had returned from wandering lost without washing or eating, yet Encrid could not knock him down even with everything he had.

The impassive layabout's sword had grown heavier and swifter than before. Watching that enormous greatsword move as though it were bending, Encrid sometimes could not imagine how he was supposed to meet it.

Even so, he blocked, parried, and redirected Ragna's sword nine times. In between, he slipped in the stab he called a knight's strike. Ragna evaded it with a mere twist of his body.

That sequence of movements reminded Encrid of one of the knightly abilities Luagarne had described.

‘Time.’

Had she said they possessed different flows of time? In the time it took Encrid to swing once, Ragna could twist aside and extend his blade. Those movements and that timing were possible because his reflexes, athletic ability, and strength had plainly surpassed their limits.

Nor was his technique lacking. He was a true knight, incomparable to some chimera knight. How could a knight cut down a thousand men? Here was the answer.

"If you can stab ten times in the time it takes a soldier to thrust his spear once, it becomes possible."

So Luagarne said, and Encrid felt once again what he had experienced so often before. In fact, merely recognizing this was remarkable. He owed it to his Eyes That See One Step Ahead, the ability called foresight.

Not that he was satisfied or content with his present level. The flames of desire and ambition to go further still blazed in his blue eyes.

Ragna, too, enjoyed seeing those crazy eyes again after so long, despite having barely slept or eaten a proper meal in days.

"That's it?"

And so he paid Encrid back for the earlier taunt, looking down at him on the ground and offering just those words. Rather than getting angry, Encrid chuckled. His men's sharp tongues seemed to have improved along with their skills.

"Cutting in line? Obviously I go first, don't I? Huh? Huh? Huuuh?"

Rem had thrown a fit over Encrid fighting Ragna first. That had been his response when Encrid stopped him from throwing his axe out of the blue and stepped forward to claim the first turn. Even so, he had neither interrupted the fight nor suddenly struck anyone in the back of the head. His pride would never allow that.

Ragna gazed steadily at his returned Captain. A single spar had told him that Encrid had surmounted some wall and reached a certain level.

Ragna had no classifications such as proto knight, knight, or squire in his mind. Why? There was no reason. He simply did not care. In truth, it was his genius that kept him from setting such standards. Setting standards meant confining oneself within a framework.

Once confined, one unconsciously fought to fit that framework. But in a fight, in battle, there was no telling what might happen. Let your guard down, and even an awl held by the child in your arms could pierce your heart.

Of course, for Ragna himself, it would not matter if the child in his arms turned into an assassin, gripped an awl, and stabbed at his heart. He would react the instant he felt the awl touch his skin. Becoming a knight made even that possible.

And Encrid seemed capable of something similar now. His skin might get scratched, but wouldn't he avoid what needed avoiding? Compared to before, his progress was unbelievable.

Yet he still showed shortcomings in certain areas: reaction speed, the speed at which he assessed what he saw, and the limits of his athletic ability. These came from his inability to wield Will properly. Ragna recognized it instinctively. Even so, he had nothing particular to say.

Words meant to help might instead build a framework and trap him within it. So Ragna merely watched, offering no advice.

Jaxon, watching, was no less surprised. The presence the Captain had displayed against Ragna had been particularly striking.

‘That was intimidation.’

The natural intimidation of someone at a knight's level. The directionless bastard had projected his presence, naturally bearing down on the Captain's mind and determination. Rather than struggling to throw it off, the Captain had raised his own presence and knocked it aside with ease. He had not escaped with the Will of refusal. His natural presence had dispersed it.

It struck Jaxon anew: the Captain he had once known was gone.

"You bastard!"

At last, Rem could contain himself no longer and attacked Ragna before he had even had a proper rest. Their fight was fierce, but also anticlimactic. It was like two parallel lines.

Encrid watched their sword and axe clash, eventually reaching speeds beyond what his eyes could track. The weapons went beyond throwing sparks and began radiating heat. Yet neither man was fighting in earnest.

Meanwhile, one or two raindrops pattered down, then quickly became a rushing downpour.

"I went easy on you, you lazy, directionless bastard."

"Somehow you've managed to learn how to flail about."

They continued snarling, but their hands stopped. The rain was pouring down, after all.

"Let's wash up."

At Encrid's suggestion, they all went into the bathhouse, with Krais somehow joining them.

The place was just as it had been, from the steam off the hot water that all but obscured their vision to the exuberance of the middle-aged woman who ran it.

"Come on in!"

Even her greeting came like a knight's sword thrust. Brisk and unhesitating, she approached and pointed the mud-covered men toward the bath.

"Hurry up, strip naked, and get in! Let me enjoy a good view for a change."

For all her talk, she probably had little real interest in looking at the men's bodies.

Encrid, Rem, Ragna, Jaxon, Audin, and Krais all stripped completely. Luagarne and Teresa left of their own accord.

He had thought everything was the same, but there were changes. Most notably, a large stone bath. A broad, massive stone had been hollowed out and polished clean so they could all soak together. Surely that had taken a skilled stonemason.

"A gift from Lord Graham," Krais explained.

They all entered the bath. Heated to just the right temperature, it left their bodies pleasantly languid.

Bathing customs had spread from the Empire across the entire continent, Naurilia included. The West had no such custom, but Rem was very fond of it. It soothed even his prickly mood.

"Went easy on you, you directionless bastard."

"Pray to whatever god you like before bed tonight and give thanks. You're lucky to be alive."

"Hoho, brothers. Please do not quarrel. God is always watching you both."

"Fucking idiots."

As they took turns speaking, from Rem to Jaxon, the bath seemed to grow even hotter.

Encrid knew they did not mean everything they said. Half of it was probably joking. This was their way of expressing how pleased they were to see one another. That was what he decided to believe.

Still, they were getting along considerably better than when he had first met them. Back then, it had gone beyond glaring at one another. It had seemed a corpse might appear at any moment.

Rem looked reasonably satisfied. Was it because he had avoided getting beaten to a pulp? Perhaps. Or perhaps he simply liked the temperature of the bath.

"By the way, where has our Beastman Sister gone?"

Audin asked. Looking at him across the bath, Encrid thought he had certainly been quick to ask.

"She said she'd take a trip east."

"I see."

That was all. He simply accepted that Dunbachel must have had her reasons.

Respecting another person's judgment. They had once lacked that attitude, but no longer. Encrid had always treated them that way, and by accepting it, they knew they had grown.

Quite apart from his talent with a sword, Encrid was a man of a different caliber. There was much to learn from watching him. They all thought so, but of course, none would ever say it openly.

"I hear you even gave Captain Sinar and Esther presents. Nothing for us?" Krais asked, submerged up to his neck.

They were not presents, but Encrid did have things to give them.

"I left them in my pack in the barracks and forgot."

Had they all been there when he arrived, he would naturally have handed them out, but everyone had been away.

Encrid did not know it, but that was only natural. A group without its center was bound to scatter. He was the thread stringing the beads together. Without that thread, the beads had spilled loose and scattered on their own.

Only Krais sensed that undercurrent.

‘Still, I suppose it's better than fighting like madmen the way they used to.’

Scattered though they were, the beads had chosen to remain nearby, as though lingering in the vicinity.

Krais remembered the celestial bodies he had once read about and learned of from an astronomer. Hadn't he said that the sun, rather than the land beneath them, was actually the center of the world? Krais had understood no more than two-tenths of what the man said, but he remembered one thing.

‘Stars circling round and round the sun.’

In some regions, people were persecuted for that supposedly misguided theory. But to Krais, that was what these people looked like now. Like the sun and its stars.

After fighting, washing, and returning to their quarters, Ragna ate a packed-lunch sort of meal: bread stuffed with ham and vegetables. Apparently, it was a special sandwich selling like wildfire in the city these days. It contained thin slices of yellow sweet squash and came from the inn Vanessa's Pumpkin Soup.

Vanessa certainly had a talent for cooking and business. Cooking reminded Encrid of Juol in the West. He thought the two might help each other if they worked together.

Entertaining such idle thoughts, Encrid rummaged through his pack and began taking things out.

"Picked this up on the way."

First came a piece from the Carmen Collection. Whatever its previous owner's tastes had been, the dagger was housed in a jewel-studded sheath. Encrid tossed it over, and Jaxon snatched it by the hilt.

SHING.

As soon as he caught it, Jaxon drew the blade a little way out of its sheath. There was a sound, but no visible blade. It was transparent. His eyes widened, a rare sight.

"The Carmen Collection?"

Murmuring to himself, he touched the transparent blade with a fingertip. The sensation was unmistakable. Indeed, though he could not see it, his senses could still detect its sharpness and the shape of the blade itself.

"Was the road littered with treasure? For you to pick up something like that?" Krais asked, blinking his large eyes.

"That isn't entirely wrong."

Luagarne nodded beside him and offered a little explanation. From what Krais gathered, a deserter had possessed it, and they had taken it from him.

Wasn't that supposed to be an incredibly rare blade? Had they simply been lucky? Perhaps so. Krais never got to finish that train of thought.

"This looks more like your sort of thing."

Jaxon was in such a good mood that he tossed him the jewel-studded sheath. Krais caught it and finished appraising it in an instant.

‘Not top quality, but not bad.’

The individual jewels were not particularly precious, but this was better than a broken artifact looted from some second-rate dungeon. It would be easy to turn into cash, too. Naturally, there was nothing wrong with a little extra income.

"I'll put it to good use."

Jaxon really did seem pleased. He even added those words and gave Encrid a small bow of his head. Nor did it end there.

"There were several assassination attempts. A few against the lord, and a few against Big-eyes."

At Jaxon's offhand remark, Krais blinked those large eyes.

"When? I had no idea."

There was no way he could have known. While Encrid was away, Jaxon had expelled those who refused to obey and persuaded the rest with fists, daggers, and threats, reshaping Georg’s Dagger to his liking. The transformation was not complete, but it was enough to establish a foothold in one city.

The useful people under Jaxon's command had built their nests throughout the city. They formed a filter that would catch masters of assassination as they entered, one by one.

Of course, some might fool their eyes or slip through by chance, but none of those who had come so far had managed it. In Jaxon's view, they were mere riffraff. Men who worked for a few gold coins at best.

Krais blinked a few more times, then reached a conclusion. Thinking about it, there could hardly be better targets than himself and Graham.

People who might want them dead? There were more than enough. People driven mad by envy and jealousy. Aspen bastards who wanted Border Guard to fall. That troublemaking noble bastard, and so on.

"Ha. That's just too much."

Krais spoke sulkily. At this rate, couldn't someone poison his food and finish him in an instant? Of course, it was precisely for that reason that he carried a long silver needle and mostly used silver tableware. Silver had been the best mineral for detecting poison since ancient times.

In truth, the Invisible Blade was the only thing that really qualified as a gift.

Next, Encrid took out the tainted sacred relic. Audin recognized it at once.

"Blasphemer, you shall answer for your sins. Father, grant no forgiveness."

For someone muttering to himself, Audin spoke almost at a shout. He strode over and reached for the relic.

Hm? Encrid had meant to ask him to find a priest who could deal with it. It was not something to simply hand over.

"This is something that must be tended in God's name. Please give it to me."

Audin held out his enormous palm. Well, if he felt confident enough to say that, he would probably manage. Encrid handed him the cup without protest. It gave off a peculiar scent, but no one here was tempted by it.

Krais merely added a word.

"Truesilver?"

"Indeed, my large-eyed brother."

As he spoke, Audin put the cup in a small pouch and tied it to his waist.

At one time, the Cult of the Sacred Demonic Realm had indiscriminately stolen the sacred relics of gods. Throwing lives away like straw, they had eventually succeeded in stealing several. Those stolen relics had caused disasters in various places.

In one region, undead had risen without end, until the Temple Knight Order had finally been summoned. The object Audin had just put away was one such relic.

Purifying a sacred relic meant a great deal to him. If Jaxon had acquired something he wanted, perhaps Audin felt as though something precious he had forgotten had been returned to him.

As Audin began praying off to one side, Teresa joined him. Now devoted to the God of War, she understood the relic's importance as well as he did. What could be more important than restoring an object containing a god's will and power to its rightful state?

With the two occupied, a snort came from outside the barracks.

It was Odd-Eyes. Still not particularly thinking of it as a gift, Encrid took out the Lucky fish he had carried all this way. He tossed it toward Odd-Eyes, who had poked his head through the open doorway. The horse stretched his neck, caught it in his mouth, and chewed.

After a few chews, he stared at Encrid and nodded. He seemed to like it.

That seemed to have more or less emptied his pack. As Encrid finished the thought and dusted off his hands, Ragna, who had polished off two sandwiches in the meantime, asked,

"Is that all?"