* * *

The hours before dawn generally belonged to the servants. By morning, they had to have hot bathwater, meals, and everything else ready for those they served.

But some people began their days before dawn of their own accord, rather than at someone else's bidding. They did so to make more of the time they were given, and to spend it well.

Valeri and Arne were among them. The two began their days with physical training before sunrise.

They met before dawn again that day to train, but when Arne offered him a vest, Valeri did not take it.

“We're waiting for one more person.”

“Huh?”

“I arranged to meet someone.”

“Who?”

“You'll see.”

Arne found this rather unexpected, but there was no harm in having someone else train with them.

He was also quietly curious. He had not imagined Valeri would have made another friend besides him so soon.

Before long, someone descended the hill where the castle stood. In the predawn darkness, only a shadowy silhouette was visible, but the figure did not look particularly large.

At first, Arne paid no attention. Anyone coming down from the castle would be a member of the ducal family or one of their personal attendants or servants.

But the person who had descended the hill began walking toward them, naturally drawing Arne's gaze.

As the figure drew closer, Arne's eyes grew wider and wider. The person Valeri had arranged to meet was none other than Knut, the third young lord of the ducal House Viðing.

At last, he reached them. Arne's heart was pounding. It was not merely the difference in their stations, but Knut's notorious reputation.

Without so much as a greeting, Knut stared at Valeri with his large, catlike eyes.

A year younger than Valeri, Knut was bigger than Hakon but noticeably the smallest of the three present. He stood a full head shorter than Valeri, who was tall for his age.

Yet something prickly radiated from his small frame, making people feel uneasy and intimidated for no particular reason.

Valeri, of course, was entirely unbothered. Arne alone fidgeted nervously.

“There's still someone else to introduce. Follow me,” Valeri said.

He set off, with Arne awkwardly following and Knut coming along as well.

Valeri headed for the stables. After a casual greeting to the stablekeeper, he brought Snow out without even putting any tack on him.

The sight of the enormous, jet-black warhorse appearing before him completely unrestrained left Arne speechless. Its imposing presence nearly made his knees buckle.

Valeri calmly stroked Snow. In the faint light of dawn, the horse's coat gleamed now and then as though it had been oiled.

“I-is this the one from the horse market...?” Arne asked.

He had heard plenty about Valeri's exploits at the horse market. Seeing what amounted to living proof of the rumors inspired a little awe in him.

“Snow, these are my friends. You don't need to be wary of them.”

Valeri spoke to Snow as though he were addressing a person. Like a well-trained warhorse, Snow did not so much as snort, merely regarding the two strangers quietly.

“Want to pet him?” Valeri offered.

Though frightened, Arne seemed equally fascinated by this sleek yet massive creature, and cautiously touched its neck.

Knut remained still, but when Valeri tilted his head in encouragement once more, he too gently stroked Snow's neck and shoulder.

It felt oddly peaceful, even as though they were walking on thin ice. Then Valeri spoke without warning.

“I'm going to call you Knut. Any objections?”

At first, Arne wondered whether he had misheard and failed to react. When the words finally registered, his eyes went wide.

“W-Wid.”

But Knut himself showed no particular reaction to Valeri's rudeness. He neither grew angry nor looked surprised, neither shook his head nor nodded. He simply continued stroking Snow.

Arne felt so uncomfortable he thought he might die. Whether Valeri realized it or not, he went a step further and asked Knut what might have been an even more shocking question.

“Why did you kill that man Ketil?”

Arne's mouth fell open, working soundlessly like a fish's. He wanted to sling Valeri over his shoulder and run away that very instant. But he could only watch Knut's expression, not daring to do anything of the sort.

From Arne's earlier explanation, Valeri had a rough idea of the reason. Still, he had asked because he somehow felt that Knut himself might have a different reason.

Continuing to stroke Snow, Knut finally opened his mouth to answer. Unlike Valeri and Arne, his voice apparently had yet to break; he sounded very much like a child.

“He got above himself.”

“How?”

“He crossed a line.”

“What line?”

“He said he and I weren't so different.”

“That crossed a line?”

“To be exact, he said there wasn't much difference between having a mother who was a whore turned concubine and one who had her head cut off. So I killed him. Any objections?”

“...”

There was no knowing whether Ketilmund had said it in a misguided attempt to find common ground or to belittle him.

Either way, hearing it from Knut himself left a strangely somber feeling in a corner of Valeri's heart.

“... No. No objections.”

“Then I have none either.”

“Hm?”

“You said you'd call me Knut.”

“Oh.”

Valeri nodded.

Arne's heart was hammering. He could hardly make sense of what was happening. Perhaps it was Snow, the third young lord, or the atmosphere before dawn, but something about it all felt unreal.

Their outward identities aside, this was, after all, a conversation between a prince and the third son of a ducal house. Arne was not yet accustomed to the particular force of presence or charisma such people possessed.

“You nearly killed me back then, and I nearly killed you. Let's call it even,” Valeri said.

Knut nodded.

Did that settle all the bad blood between them? At least neither of the two held a grudge, but to Arne, the whole thing could not have felt more precarious.

Regardless, Valeri pressed on without hesitation.

“There's one more thing I want to ask. I heard you cut open a servant's belly when you were little, saying you were looking for a watermelon thief. Why did you do that?”

“Because he tried to frame me.”

“The servant?”

“Yes. When I cut his belly open, there was watermelon inside.”

His explanation left a few things out. After witnessing his mother's beheading as a child, Knut had developed symptoms close to aphasia.

During that time, a servant had secretly eaten a watermelon belonging to the ducal household. When the duke happened to ask for it, the servant had blamed Knut.

Had Knut remained quiet, the matter would likely have passed without much trouble. Surely the duke would not have punished him over a single watermelon.

But Knut had stabbed the servant in the belly and cut it open on the spot.

“I see.”

Valeri nodded in understanding.

Arne simply could not get used to their conversation. One said the most shocking things, while the other merely nodded as though they were perfectly ordinary. What kind of conversation was this?

“Now listen to what I have to say. You too, Arne. The duke has given me a mission. This isn't training. It's the real thing. The three of us will do it together. Understood?”

“W-what? Wait a moment.”

Arne asked him to wait, but Valeri ignored him and continued.

“Put simply, it's closer to an assassination or a contract killing. We're going to kill a man named Creed in the city of Gringen. Apparently he's famous for his nickname, the Ballsack Opener.”

“... Gringen?”

Geographically, Gringen might have been close to Torvik, but actually traveling there could make it feel far away.

It lay outside the duchy, and it was notorious as a city where criminals of every stripe gathered.

“Yes. But if the three of us simply turn up in Gringen, we'll attract the thieves' guild's attention immediately. In no time, they'll find out where we came from, what we did there, and why we've come to the city. This Ballsack Opener might have ties to the thieves' guild, so we need a convincing story before we go to Gringen. A reason for being there.”

“...”

Arne blinked. Not only had Valeri suddenly brought up something serious, but it was so unfamiliar that he struggled to grasp it right away.

Knut was much the same, though he did not show it on his face as Arne did. In fact, he had not understood a word, but simply maintained his usual sulky-looking expression.

“... So how do we do that?” Arne asked.

“Business.”

“Business?”

“Yes. Instead of going after him, we're going to make him come to us. Ideally, we'll run a business that catches his interest. It'll be dangerous, of course. No one does business in Gringen without putting their life on the line. People may use any means they can to ruin our business, steal it, or get rid of us. Do you understand so far?”

“... So you're saying we need some kind of cover identity.”

It was not quite a cover “identity,” but even without understanding everything, Arne had grasped the essential point. Compared with people whose ignorance or stupidity defied imagination, he was practically a genius.

“In short, we'll get his attention, establish exactly who he is, and seize an opportunity to kill him.”

That was certainly a summary, but considering what it would involve, the whole thing sounded impossible. Running a business, facing assassination attempts—there would be sword fights, and surely it would not all end after just one or two of those.

Still, setting a course was important, so Valeri had given them a rough outline for now.

Arne stared blankly at Valeri, then turned to Knut. He looked at Valeri again, then Knut, and finally back at Valeri before asking,

“Didn't you say... the three of us would do this?”

“Yes. Why?”

“This doesn't seem like something we can handle... Shouldn't a knight or some sort of specialist...?”

“Then when will you do it?”

“Huh?”

“When will you take on a real mission? After another ten years of training? Listen, Arne. Crisis is another word for opportunity. The greater the crisis, the greater the opportunity. When do you think you'll get another chance like this in your life? A mission entrusted to you by the duke himself.”

Arne currently served in the ducal household's private army, mostly on guard duty. Every day he rose before dawn to train hard and build his strength, but there was no guarantee that any of it would improve his lot.

He was merely one easily replaceable soldier. Never mind the duke—most of the knights did not even know who Arne was.

Yet he could not readily agree because this would be his first time. And when that first undertaking was both dangerous and tremendously important, hesitation was only natural.

Caught between an uncertain future and a stifling present, Arne was nonetheless afraid to take a step toward that future. Like any number of young people.

If the king died and a storm swept the world, he might reveal his true worth within the maelstrom of fate. For now, however, he was merely a stone with a brilliant gem hidden inside.

“Arne.”

Valeri took him by the shoulder. Arne, who had been hanging his head, turned to look at him. Valeri's grip tightened.

He fixed Arne with that intense gaze of his and spoke earnestly.

“If you can't believe in yourself, believe in me. I know how brightly you shine. You alone did what everyone else in the world was too afraid to do. The Arne I know is the bravest man there is. Trust me and follow me. I'll make sure you find that certainty in yourself.”

There was something strange about the tenses Valeri used. But he spoke so earnestly that it went unnoticed.

His words truly seemed to carry a powerful force. Arne felt that if there was a right moment in life, this was it. Nothing Valeri had said was wrong, was it? He could not keep doing nothing but training forever.

“All right. I'll do it.”

Valeri nodded at Arne's answer. He knew that once Arne committed to something, he would truly stake his life on it.

“And you?” Valeri asked, turning to Knut.

“Did I have a choice?”

“What do you mean?”

“You're the one who got me out of that birdcage.”

“True, but I'm not forcing you. I'm asking whether you want to do it.”

“Want to... I'm not really sure about that. Can't I just trust you too?”

“You can.”

“All right. Let's do that, then.”

It was rather anticlimactic, but Knut seemed somewhat numb to things like death or the burden of an important undertaking.

In any case, that settled it. The three of them would carry out the mission.

The day was gradually brightening. Valeri turned toward the newly risen sun. The morning sun resembled twilight: reddish hues mingled with gold.

Valeri fetched Snow's tack and put it on him. Stepping into the stirrup, he mounted and spoke to the two looking up at him.

Not the flames of bitter hatred, but the fresh morning sunlight shone in his eyes, making them sparkle like jewels.

“We're going to explore outside the city today. Knut, do you have a horse?”

“I did. Not anymore.”

As a duke's son, he had naturally had a horse, but it was provided by the duke, not his own. Since killing Ketilmund, Knut had been denied the use of one.

“Can't be helped. All three of us will ride together. Get a mounting block, Arne.”

Arne went into the stable and brought out a mounting block. He climbed on behind Valeri, while Knut sat in front, leaving Valeri in the middle.

It was not impossible for three people to ride one horse, but lined up in a row like that, they did look rather ridiculous.

Valeri urged Snow forward at a slow pace. After hesitating for a long time, Arne cautiously addressed Knut at the very front.

“Um... young master, are you feeling all right?”

After two days confined in that dreadful place, he could hardly be in good condition.

But Knut kept his mouth shut and offered no response, just as he had when they first met.

Only a smile, warm as the morning sunlight, spread across Valeri's lips.

Part 5 – What Comes After Dawn. End.