Through Martai and on to the East.

The journey was less arduous than Dunbachel had expected. Fighting monsters and demonic beasts was a matter of course, but their numbers had noticeably dwindled.

That stood to reason. Guard posts had sprung up all along the route from Border Guard to Martai. The troops stationed there rotated through duties consisting solely of killing monsters and guarding the posts.

Nor had banditry increased in their place. There was a saying on the continent that when monsters dwindled, bandits thrived. Less monster activity meant more travelers, and naturally, bandits would settle wherever travelers gathered. But not in this region.

"Get caught committing banditry, and you lose your head. Get caught stealing, and you lose a hand."

The border defense captain, now lord of Martai, dealt with criminals just as he had in Border Guard. That was also why criminal guilds could not run rampant.

A Frog named Meellun occasionally visited out of boredom, too. Whenever a mercenary or swordsman caused trouble, he beat them mercilessly.

"If you've got a grievance about the beating, come to Border Guard."

With more and more people in Border Guard now able to outfight him, Meellun had taken up a new hobby: strolling all the way here whenever his frustration built up.

At one point, a rumor had even circulated that anyone who actually accepted his invitation would be forced into training by a musclebound monster. Dunbachel heard similar stories along the way and nodded. They sounded plausible.

As Border Guard cultivated stronger soldiers and increased military spending, Martai naturally followed suit.

"Will you disgrace the Border Guard's name?"

Torres drove his troops harder than ever. He could not allow a unit with such history and renown to fall behind. He had no intention of letting the Border Guard become an unremarkable force on his watch as captain.

He sent the Border Guard out on guard-post duty as part of their training, and Martai began building posts of its own, just as Krais had hoped. With a safe road now connecting Border Guard and Martai, trading companies naturally began traveling it frequently.

Martai had always served as a gateway for precious artifacts and the like coming from the East. Those goods and artifacts were worth a considerable sum, and Roquefried could have monopolized their trade. Instead, the Roquefried trading company acted shrewdly.

Rather than scrabble to get everything into its hands, it took its share and left the rest alone. It did not meddle with eastern artifacts or groups of peddlers and itinerant merchants. They could come and go freely so long as they paid the toll.

Things had reached the point where any established trading company on the continent that failed to head for Border Guard now would be called a fucking idiot.

Business was booming. The region had no particular specialty product, and many hurdles remained before Green Pearl could become proper farmland, but flourishing trade kept the Krona flowing. That was why Martai was bustling.

Dunbachel sought out Torres as Encrid had instructed and secured suitable supplies.

"You're going east? That's danger—never mind. You're one of Encrid's people, aren't you? Do as you please."

He added just one more thing.

"Shall I have a bath drawn for you?"

She looked as though she had not washed properly in days.

"No, I'm fine. I'm leaving right away."

Still looking just as grubby, Dunbachel left Martai and headed east.

A vast wasteland greeted her first. Once she left the region where monsters and bandits were scarce, she began encountering monsters she had never seen before.

One was a two-headed lizard. One head struck its teeth together to create sparks, while the other exhaled something like gas. Together, they made a fire-breathing monster.

Long ago, a fire-breathing lizard monster called a Salamander had descended upon the continent, and this was part of the legacy it had left behind. A lesser species of Salamander, perhaps.

Someone had slapped the name "flame lizard" on it. In some regions, people simply called it a two-headed lizard. It was not a common creature.

She walked and walked, killing monsters along the way. The East was far away. Boredom on the road brought idle thoughts.

'The Life of Dunbachel, Who Went East and Returned.'

What if she made a story like that? For a subtitle, perhaps The Tale of Bees Intoxicated by a Flower? Everyone, Encrid included, would fall for her.

'Should I leave Rem out?'

He was married, and Ayul was a good person. Dunbachel remembered her looking after her in all sorts of ways during her stay in the West.

After that, Dunbachel nearly died twice before reaching the eastern frontier city. The tale could be long or short, depending on how it was told.

When she finally met Anu, ruler of the East and Mercenary King, these were his first words.

"Hey, did that bastard lose all his fingers? Why hasn't he answered my letters?"

He was complaining about Encrid's failure to reply. There was no welcome for her, but that did not matter. When had anyone ever welcomed her warmly? Once, it might have bothered her. Not anymore.

"How would I know?"

Dunbachel answered indifferently. The king looked at her.

"What are you here for?"

"To take a little rest."

At her claim that she had come to the East to rest, the gazes of those beside the king sharpened. What had that half-baked Beastman just said?

Dunbachel was inviting hardship. That was what she had come for, after all. So...

"I'll be counting on you."

She said it without a trace of shame.

* * *

Krang hated politics. Just look at this.

"I believe it is because so many eyes are on Encrid."

"Why? Are they afraid I'll take their land and give it to Enkie if we're too friendly?"

The Marquis of Fertile Lands replied with a smile.

"What can one do? A stronger crown inevitably makes the nobility uneasy."

Krang tapped the arm of his chair. Why did these idiots, concerned only with securing their own share, keep appearing no matter how many he got rid of? They were like mosquitoes. Like those summer pests, more of them always cropped up.

It was hardly worth worrying about. He could not attend to every little thing on the road ahead. Whatever was going to fall by the wayside would do so on its own.

Several landed nobles on the frontier had complained that Encrid's territory was too large. Some had even declared that they would seize portions of it by force.

Were the bastards insane?

What if they got themselves killed? Krang told them to do as they pleased, provided they accepted whatever losses an armed conflict brought. Some agreed, as though their narrow little worlds had driven them to suicidal urges.

Well, neighboring countries' machinations did seem to play some part in this behavior. But if they insisted on making such a frenzied rush to their deaths despite all his efforts to dissuade and placate them, what more could he say?

"Well, there's nothing for it. I hear things aren't looking good in Aspen?"

The seasonal rains had come, ushering in weather that could properly be called autumn. Krang spoke as he watched the leaves slowly turning red beyond the window.

"We are gathering intelligence through every available channel. In my judgment, yes. They are preparing for war."

The answer came from Marquis Vaisar, seated beside the Marquis of Fertile Lands. Opposite him, Marcus Vaisar worked his cutlery. This was both their morning meeting and their feast.

Not that it amounted to much more than a reasonable helping of steak, roasted broccoli, and mashed potatoes instead of sandwiches.

Krang loathed waste. He had seen too many people starve to death while wandering the continent as a child. He believed that reducing the number of dishes on the royal table could save dozens, even hundreds of his people. And it could.

Of course, some nobles disliked this.

Why deny them the luxuries they were entitled to?

Krang did not punish them for it. They could make their own choices. But the royal house set the tone: care for the people and fulfill one's responsibilities instead of wasting resources.

They rebelled because they disliked that, rebelled again because he favored Enkie, and raised hell yet again over his inadequate efforts to train knights.

Those noble bastards.

And now Aspen was coming at them. Could he pull the knights away from the southern border to fight? Could he spare troops from Oara?

He would need knights. This war would hardly remain a series of localized clashes like before.

Aspen would commit its strength in earnest. There was nothing it would not do to reclaim Green Pearl. But what gave them the confidence to attack?

If he were Aspen's king, this would be the time to bow down with his head to the ground. If they were attacking anyway, they must have something to rely on.

Some people saw failure not as a step toward despair, but as a fresh opportunity. Encrid was one such person close at hand.

Perhaps Aspen, too, had someone who did not regard failure as failure, but thought, 'Again! One more time!' After being beaten in countless attacks, they would surely shore up their weaknesses before trying again.

Krang chewed his meat as he considered it all, his expression blank. The perfectly cooked lamb melted in his mouth. Nobles and wars aside, the meat was delicious.

"The lamb is nicely done. Why don't you eat as we talk?"

At Marcus's suggestion, Marquis Vaisar reached for his cutlery as well. Age had weakened his bite, making meat difficult to eat. He had received divine healing once, but his gums could never be as healthy as they had been. Still, the young lamb was tender enough for even his teeth to tear through easily.

"So if Aspen crosses the line, I'm supposed to tell Enkie to stop them with Border Guard's forces alone?"

Some nobles had banded together and were making a tremendous fuss in an effort to weaken General Encrid. Border Guard had been built to stop Aspen, they said, and as the great lord responsible for the region, he ought to fulfill his duty.

The bastards' consciences seemed to have died off entirely. Had they forgotten how they had hailed him as the Ender of the Civil War and the Demon Killer?

Well, the provincial nobles would not have properly witnessed his exploits. They were the ones banding together to make these demands now.

Some of them resented Count Molsen's former territory being administered as though it were a royal domain. Idiots who had believed that once Molsen croaked, part of his county would become theirs.

Marquis Vaisar nodded at Krang's question.

"If he holds out for a month at most, the crown will be able to send reinforcements."

Those reinforcements might include knights. A month at most. They need only put on a show of fighting.

It was a transparent pretense, but it would serve to demonstrate that Border Guard was fulfilling its role and that Encrid deserved his position.

"I am considering sending Viscount Andrew's army, just in case. He will be of considerable help."

Marcus swallowed a mouthful of meat before speaking. Andrew had received land and become lord of a city right beside the capital. With royal support, he was building up strong troops by the day, so he would be helpful, just as Marcus said.

Krang nodded. It was time to write another letter himself.

"But is the fellow busy? Why won't he reply?"

He alone had sent more than ten letters, but Encrid had not answered. Surely he ought to write back now that he had returned? Hadn't it been a while since he got back from the West?

* * *

'Does he not think?'

Or perhaps he was good at fighting but dim-witted. That was Encrid's assessment after reading the Mercenary King's letter.

It demanded a reply. There was nothing particularly important in it, either. So why insist on an answer?

Unless you had a rooster's comb on your head, it should be obvious that sending a reply was difficult. The Mercenary King could somehow get his letters delivered using his own people, but Encrid would need to dispatch at least a squad to send a reply all the way to the frontier city.

Until now, he had left his replies in Martai for the eastern messengers to take back when they came with another letter. He could only reply when the timing lined up.

He had been busy traveling between Oara and the West for quite some time. Yet the man was complaining that he had not answered. Even if he hadn't known that, nothing in these letters seemed to require a reply.

Encrid went through the letters that had piled up in his absence one by one. Most were from the Mercenary King Anu and Krang. There were a few useless ones, too: letters from ladies professing their love or claiming to have fallen for him at first sight, and nobles inviting him to meet their daughters.

Excluding the two kings' letters, half were marriage proposals. A quarter were provocations questioning whether his reputation was deserved, and the remaining quarter were trading companies and the like asking for his favor.

"You must be getting a fair amount in bribes, too?"

He asked Krais while skimming the letters and jotting down a few words. Krais nodded.

"Yes, quite a lot. Want some?"

"No."

There was nothing he particularly needed. He did need to buy a suit of armor, but a nudge to Krais would produce all the Krona required. Actually, a gambeson, mail armor, and an iron breastplate had already been prepared specifically for him.

The gambeson had been dyed dark blue, with a sword embroidered in gold on the outside. He did not know who had made it, but they seemed to have abandoned their aesthetic sense in some corner of a Demonic Realm.

It was sturdy, though. The exterior was covered in the hide of a wolf that had become a demonic beast, while the interior was padded with trimmed owlbear feathers. It was a little heavy, but not enough to bother him.

Once he had dashed off and sorted his letters, Encrid donned his armor, strapped Aker to his side, and secured three throwing daggers across his chest. As he rose to leave the small office, Krais asked,

"Where are you going?"

"To say hello."

"To whom?"

"A noble."

That alone told Krais what Encrid intended. There was a noble who had sent inept assassins after Krais and picked fights with him at every opportunity. His domain lay between Border Guard and Count Molsen's former territory. It was not small, but he was hardly a major power.

Then he had suddenly adopted a son, who supposedly learned his techniques from some martial arts master. Ever since this alleged master took up residence in the domain, the lord had been running wild. He acted as though part of Count Molsen's territory rightfully belonged to him, and went around calling Encrid a swordsman who had gotten lucky.

"You're going alone?"

Krais rose as he asked. Encrid had sat at the desk armed, apparently already intent on going out.

Was there any need to take a crowd along? That was how Encrid saw it. This was no different from a casual outing.

He set off for the noble's domain straightaway, with Rem following out of boredom.

"Let's go together. I'm bored."

Ragna declared it too much bother and went to sleep. Luagarne had thrown herself into training since returning from the West. Pell remained a little gloomy, and Roford remained as lively as ever.

There had been late nights spent talking about this and that as seasonal rain poured down, and time spent engrossed in training as usual. Now the rain that had fallen for days had stopped. The temperature had dropped just enough to make walking and moving about pleasant.

"Going to cut his head off?"

Rem asked as they set out.

"Don't start by cutting his head off."

Encrid answered, and the two walked off down the road.

He had been advised to take a carriage, since it was rather far to walk, but Encrid had shaken his head. He wanted to walk for a while: to think over the elusive clues to his path, which seemed almost within reach, and clear the other clutter from his mind.

They spent roughly ten days walking at an easy pace, training and hunting along the way. Then Encrid reached the noble's domain. As luck would have it, the noble was out hunting monsters, and they met at the territorial boundary.

The noble had his son and twenty attendants with him. Encrid had only Rem.