Ready to leave, Valeri loaded his belongings onto Snow. All that remained was to put a foot in the stirrup, mount, and ride out of the castle.

Apart from his friends, no one had come into the courtyard to see him off. Everyone went about their daily duties, merely casting a glance his way as they passed.

Fourteen years. That was how long he had lived here, ever since arriving as a newborn. People's opinion of Valeri had changed considerably over the past month, but beyond that lay the familiarity born of all those years.

Whether they liked him or disliked him, losing that familiar presence could hardly be a happy thing.

The maids looked as forlorn as though one of life's great joys were slipping away.

Amid all this, one thing left Valeri utterly bewildered: Gidwin was crying. Harald's eyes had reddened too, but it was Gidwin whose face was crumpled, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Sniff... Sob..."

Valeri was helpless in the face of this sort of thing. He had no idea what to do and felt thoroughly at a loss. Was there really any need to cry? Was he supposed to offer comfort? What was going on?

It was hardly surprising. Before returning to the past, he had known only eyes steeped in resentment and hatred. He had coldly, ruthlessly cut down those who looked at him that way, or trampled them underfoot.

After living such a life, how he was supposed to accept tears shed for his sake was uncharted territory.

Hakon tugged at his clothes. Valeri tipped awkwardly at the pull and ended up caught in Gidwin's fierce embrace. Gidwin buried his face in Valeri's shoulder and bawled.

"Anyone would think you were going off to die."

For once, Valeri was almost grateful for Tommy's cynical nature.

"We'll see each other again someday, won't we?" Harald asked, resting a hand on Valeri's back.

"It's two days on horseback. It's not as though I'm going far away."

"True, but that duke and the people serving him are rather frightening."

"Not to me... Now let go of me."

"S-Sob!"

Valeri forcibly pushed Gidwin away. His cloak was positively soaked with tears and snot. Fond as he was of cleanliness, his expression briefly soured.

Still, he could hardly lose his temper at someone who was crying. Before he could be caught again, he put his foot in the stirrup and hurriedly mounted.

He looked up at the castle windows, but neither the earl nor the countess was looking out.

Valeri now understood that this was not because they felt no sorrow at his departure. As the lord and lady of the domain, they could not allow themselves to waver.

He felt nothing but gratitude toward Earl Æthelred. However much Valeri's troublemaking had forced the situation upon him, allowing this had required a momentous decision from a man charged with protecting a prince.

To put it bluntly, if Valeri died in some incident or accident while visiting the duke's household, House Winslow would be ruined. They would bear responsibility for failing to protect a prince before the king's death.

In that sense, Earl Æthelred had chosen to shoulder an even greater responsibility. It was an act of considerable kindness toward a boy who was neither his son nor his bastard.

He and I had both been immature. Neither of us was perfect now, of course, but perhaps this much meant we were each doing right by the other.

Valeri bowed toward the castle, waved to his friends, and nudged his horse's flanks. As though he had been waiting for the signal, Snow kicked off and galloped away.

Toward another future Valeri had never known.

Human settlements were like islands— islands floating in a sea of forests, wetlands, and mountains.

There were few roads connecting one town or village to another, and their inhabitants lived in all but isolation.

No one knew who or what dwelled in many of the deep forests and remote mountain reaches. The kingdom might have defined borders, but within those borders lay vast stretches of unknown land untouched by human feet.

That was the world waiting beyond the lands where people lived. A world where wild beasts and monsters, bandits, thugs, and robbers were commonplace.

To survive in such a world, I too had had no choice but to become a monster—or a devil.

That was the world Valeri knew best, rather than one of peaceful days spent with friends.

The moment they crossed the border of the earldom of Winslow, even the air seemed to change. Something felt out of place in the birdsong in the forest.

Valeri, Ketilmund, and a single attendant rode at a walk along a river running through the woods, with no trail to follow. The river flowing beside them was the very one the Nords had sailed up to invade the kingdom.

Perhaps that explained the long-ruined landing stages they passed here and there. Covered in vines and moss, they looked as though nature were swallowing them whole.

"You seem to have gotten along well with the other youngsters."

Ketilmund asked the question from a short distance away as they rode. Valeri answered with a few perfunctory nods.

"How would you prefer we address each other? I don't know whether you're aware, but I'm a concubine's son. Our circumstances are much alike."

Apparently he meant to establish some common ground first. Again, Valeri merely nodded.

Ketilmund was plainly at least ten years older than him and might reasonably have taken offense, but he showed no sign of it.

"I'll simply call you Wid, then. You may call me Ketil. There is something I've been wondering: how did you cut off a nose so cleanly with a blunt practice sword?"

"... Well, I just..."

"It's understandable to feel awkward. We can take our time getting acquainted."

Valeri was neither uncomfortable nor ill at ease, but Ketilmund seemed to interpret his behavior that way. Exceptional skill did not necessarily imply an equally mature mind, after all.

"Have you never felt that way, Wid? Wondered why you had to be born a bastard?"

At that, Valeri finally turned to look at Ketilmund.

"I have. Often. Very, very often. There was a time when it tormented me every night. My abilities seemed no worse than those of the legitimate children, yet everything was decided by the mere circumstances of my birth. They say Nord tradition made no distinction against concubines' children. I cannot understand why the founding king rejected Nord customs and traditions in favor of Astrian laws and institutions. He even killed those who opposed him—including men who had distinguished themselves in the War of Founding."

His words were sincere. Yet beneath that sincerity lay an intention to stir up whatever inferiority or sense of injustice Valeri might harbor as a bastard.

Valeri could also see the aim of winning him over while turning him against House Winslow.

Because he no longer felt any such inferiority or grievance, the other man's intentions were perfectly transparent.

Still, seeing through him was one thing. For now, Valeri focused on what he had said in earnest.

"I bear no ill will toward the royal house. But surely it is no great sin to dream of a world where people are treated according to their abilities? I merely thought I'd air my grievances."

Ketilmund gave Valeri a bitter smile.

Then Valeri, who until now had offered only nods and halfhearted answers, spoke.

"The trouble is that every idiot under the sun starts throwing his weight around, claiming exceptional ability."

"Hmm?"

"How do you determine whether someone has ability or not? In the end, only bloodshed settles it. And when armies are brought into the fighting, it doesn't end with one or two deaths. Innocent farmers die as well. The very expectation that a king will make the best choice is mistaken. Most of his choices are simply unavoidable ones. The law stating that a man may have only one lawful wife, and that only legitimate children may inherit, is part of that. Yet look around. Brothers still fight one another, fathers kill their children, and children kill their fathers often enough. Now imagine granting inheritance rights to concubines' children and bastards as well. What do you think would happen?"

"..."

Ketilmund's eyes widened in bewilderment. It was a sound rebuttal, but surely not the sort of thing a bastard ought to be saying.

"The Nords did not discriminate against concubines' children or bastards in the old days because they had no attachment to their own lands. That would have been especially true when the blizzards of death swept in after the gods died. They needed every fighter they could get. Enemy arrows don't simply spare a man because he's legitimate. But things are different now. They've settled here, after all. In my view, this sorry state of affairs comes from trying to divide up what they already possess."

"... You are remarkable, Wid. How did you come to think of all that?"

"It simply became clear as I lived."

"..."

Ketilmund blinked. He had expected the boy to come around if he appealed to his emotions, but what was this depth of insight? Skilled fighters were generally ignorant. He realized this would not be easy, yet he was intrigued all the same.

"At least the journey won't be dull."

"So, how did you overcome the sorrows of being a concubine's son?"

Seeing that Valeri seemed to have some curiosity about him after all, Ketilmund smiled faintly.

"Fortunately, His Grace is not so narrow-minded. He gives capable people suitable positions. I can promise you this much: if your abilities earn you enough distinction, even being granted an earldom is not beyond the realm of possibility."

Valeri laughed inwardly in disbelief. The more he saw of Ketilmund, the more the man struck him as someone who was clever without any sense.

"... You believe that?"

"I am living proof. His Grace has not merely knighted me; as his adjutant, I am involved in matters great and small. Even my half brothers watch their step around me. Where do you think that influence comes from? It is all thanks to His Grace's favor."

"..."

By now, Valeri could hardly tell whether the man was naive or stupid. No—thinking back to his life before the regression, he could understand it. The desire for a father's recognition was a powerful thing. Blinded by it, a man could certainly end up like this.

Hadn't Valeri's own hatred, traced back to its roots, sprung from that very desire?

He was hardly in a position to worry about Ketilmund, but he could not deny feeling sorry for him.

"... Please be careful."

"Me? Ha ha, I appreciate your concern, but it seems our roles have been reversed. I am not quite so unreliable as all that. In time, I'll earn your trust."

Ketilmund laughed confidently.

Time passed, and night fell. Valeri's party stopped at a campsite that seemed to be used frequently by travelers between Winslow and Torvik.

They built a fire, softened hard bread in water, and ate it with jerky, cheese, and dried fruit. Having filled their stomachs, they agreed to take turns keeping watch.

More time passed. As the stars began to fade in the night sky, Valeri awoke. Having slept with only his cloak over him, he was not feeling his best. But that was what sleeping outdoors entailed, so there was no point complaining.

"If we press on a little, we might arrive by evening," Ketilmund said.

Valeri readily nodded.

"That's fine by me."

"Good. By the way, do you never tether your—"

TWANG. THRUM-THRUM!

THUNK!

"Gah!"

THUD.

It happened without warning. Arrows came flying out of nowhere and struck Ketilmund.

Valeri reacted swiftly. Instantly ducking low, he grabbed the fallen Ketilmund by the scruff of his neck and dragged him away. Moving away from the direction the arrows had come from, he took cover behind a tree.

"Ghk. Cough."

Blood surged from Ketilmund's mouth with every cough, covering his lips and chin.

One arrow was lodged in his arm and another in his neck. The latter had struck the side of his neck, sparing him an instant death, but he looked beyond saving.

Short arrows. Crossbow bolts. Judging by the sounds, four shots had been fired. That meant at least four crossbowmen. Valeri began calculating how long they would need to reload.

Considering that they had concentrated their shots on Ketilmund, Valeri himself did not seem to be their target.

Moreover, neither their weapons nor their skill belonged to ordinary bandits or highwaymen. The attendant was nowhere to be seen. Of course.

Valeri assessed all of this almost unconsciously, his instincts reaching their conclusions in an instant.

He immediately threw Ketilmund out from behind the tree where the attackers could see him, then ran in the opposite direction, shouting as he went.

"Snow!"

Hoofbeats sounded in the distance. Moments later, Snow came galloping through the trees.

He wore neither bridle nor reins, but fortunately his saddle and luggage were still on him. The sword was strapped to the saddle too.

Yet after mounting, Valeri did not flee. Instead, he circled wide around the scene of the attack.

CLOP. CLOP. CLOP. CLOP.

In the distance, between the trees, he could see figures slowly advancing as they reloaded their crossbows. Just as he had thought, their equipment marked them as something other than bandits.

Hearing the hoofbeats, a soldier crossing the stream looked over and aimed his crossbow.

Before he could be seen, Valeri hung down along the horse's flank, hiding himself. The soldier took Snow for a riderless horse running loose.

Valeri judged the distance by the splashing of the soldier's steps in the stream, then swung himself back into the saddle. In the same instant, he drew his sword and charged.

The soldier had thought the riderless horse was simply fleeing into the distance. As the hoofbeats drew closer instead, he turned once more. A pale blade swept through his neck in the dawn light.

THWACK!

Having cut through the soldier's neck with an upward stroke, Valeri carried his sword over his back and hurled it at another soldier nearby.

WHOOSH-WHOOSH-WHOOSH! THUNK!

TWANG!

The second soldier had barely turned when the sword buried itself in his chest. His crossbow discharged as he fell, sending its bolt wildly astray.

Meanwhile, masked men approached Ketilmund to make certain he was dead.

He was still alive, though he seemed certain to die soon. One of the masked men spoke.

"Sorry, Ketil. But you got far too full of yourself."

Even as he coughed, Ketilmund glared with eyes full of hatred. Despite the mask, he had recognized the man.

"F... uck..."

He mustered every last scrap of strength to curse through the blood bubbling in his throat. Indifferent to his curses, the masked man moved in to finish him off, though he looked likely to die soon even if left alone.

Having dispatched two men in an instant, Valeri had lost none of his speed. If anything, he was going faster.

He charged straight at two men walking together and slammed into them.

CLOP-CLOP-CLOP-CLOP!

THUD! CRUNCH!

"Ugh!"

The huge horse crashed into them at speed and trampled them underfoot. Bones broke and organs ruptured, leaving them dead or mortally wounded.

The three masked men near Ketilmund spun around at the approaching hoofbeats and dying cries.

"What the hell?"

Valeri burst like lightning from the shadows cast by the trees in the dawn light. He snatched up a spear planted in the ground and drove it through one man, while simply riding down another.

THUNK! THUD!

"Gah!"

"Ugh!"

The last man scrambled behind a tree in alarm, then fled into a dense stand of trees where the horse could not follow. Valeri immediately drew a dagger from inside his clothes and hurled it with all his strength.

It flew with astonishing accuracy, but unfortunately only grazed the man's neck before embedding itself in a tree. The lone survivor kept running.

That was the end of it. The campsite lay littered with corpses and groaning men.

Valeri dismounted and checked Ketilmund's condition. In truth, there was little point. Blood kept welling up, choking his airway, and his face was white from blood loss.

"I told you to be careful..."

Valeri sounded regretful. Soon afterward, the light faded from Ketilmund's eyes, and he breathed his last.

Valeri closed his eyes for him, then rose to retrieve his sword, his dagger, and everything else worth taking. That included cutting off the attackers' heads and carrying them with him.

Whether on a battlefield or in an incident like this in everyday life, heads served as important evidence: proof of a feat, a means of claiming a bounty, or a way to uncover who had been behind the perpetrators.

Still, for this to happen before he had even reached Torvik—it almost made him sigh, yet he found it amusing too.

He could return to Winslow, but after spending a night on the road, he hardly felt like doing so.

Someone experiencing such a thing for the first time might have gone back out of shock and fear, but not Valeri. It was easier to handle it himself than needlessly complicate matters.

"How interesting."

What a ridiculous business to be dealing with at the crack of dawn. Valeri's remark was brief, but no one there was listening.

Even the early birds were silent. The only sounds in the forest were the gentle babbling of the stream and the rasp of cutting.