* * *

The building resembled a small fortress equipped with only the barest essentials. A thick, cylindrical tower about three stories tall, topped with a conical roof, had what looked like an ordinary house attached to it. The result looked something like a gigantic snail.

Did people live in the house and retreat to the tower in an emergency? Apparently not. A look inside suggested that the tower served as living space as well. If it came to a fight, defenders could climb to the second or third floor and shoot arrows or crossbows in any direction. But geographical advantage was the most important thing for a castle or fortress, and standing on level ground, this one did not seem particularly useful. Still, amid the prevailing lawlessness, it seemed an excellent stronghold for driving off thugs, ruffians, and small bands of brigands.

It had stood unoccupied and neglected for so long, however, that repairs were needed everywhere. Holes in the roof, rotten timbers, cobwebs—some things needed clearing away, others patching or replacing. Fortunately, there were people doing just that: Valeri and his companions. They had bought this abandoned house on the outskirts of Gringen to serve as their base.

They tore things out, hammered in nails, and swept away heaps of dust, breathing life back into the house one corner at a time. None of them were professional carpenters, so the finish was hardly neat, but everything worked as it should. If anything, they had made it sturdier than necessary.

Only after two full days of cleaning and repairs was the place reasonably fit to live in. The work had been truly grueling and exhausting, but rewarding. They were doing it for themselves, after all, not for anyone else.

Finally, they planted a flag atop the tower’s conical roof. It had a white field with a piece of green cloth sewn onto it in the shape of a crouching frog. Dye was hard to come by, and painting a design that would not wash away required specialized skill, so sewn-on cloth would have to do for now.

Watching Valeri plant the flag on the roof, Arne and Skard muttered in dismay.

“Are we really doing this...?”

“I still think the Widowmakers sounds good...”

In any case, the decision had already been made. They still needed to bring in furniture and household goods, but first they celebrated: barley beer, freshly baked bread, smoked meat, assorted vegetables, and roast frogs. They simply piled the food into a single pot and sat around it, helping themselves with abandon. When the conversation turned to what exactly they would do next, Valeri laid out his plan.

“First, win the people’s support. Second, use that support to gain legitimacy. Third, use that legitimacy to absorb or eliminate the other organizations. Fourth, expand our power and take control of the city. That’s our grand strategy and our guide to action. Any objections?”

“... Could you explain it first?” Arne asked, tearing off a piece of freshly baked bread that yielded softly in his hands rather than being hard as a rock, for the first time in ages. He had to know what Valeri meant before he could object.

“Winning the people’s support means giving them work and paying them wages. We’ll start simply, paying them just to bring in timber or building stone. Then they’ll use those materials to build homes for themselves or improve the surrounding area. That gives them a livelihood.”

His companions stared at him with expressions of utter incomprehension.

“Why should we do that? Isn’t that sort of charity the temple priests’ job? We’re a mercenary company.”

“It gives them something to lose. People with something to lose become afraid of losing it. To put it simply, their livelihoods will be tied to us, so they’ll be loyal to us, if only to protect what’s theirs. They’ll even be willing to go out and fight if the city is threatened.”

People had little understanding of how important popular support was. Rulers such as lords and kings had some vague awareness of it, but Gringen currently had no real ruler, and the multitude of competing organizations were too busy exploiting its people. Valeri’s understanding of these principles came not from theory, but largely from his experiences before his return: how to win loyalty, expand his power, and concentrate it all into a single force. These were things he needed to understand if he was to keep winning while growing stronger with every battle, rather than wearing his strength away.

“What about the second step? What sort of legitimacy do you mean?” Knut asked, eating the frog meat Yorik was picking off the bones for him.

“Once we’ve built up our strength a little, we’ll stop them from collecting pitch fees. Fees like that stifle people’s livelihoods. And what are pitch fees but another name for protection money? We’ll provide the protection, so we won’t let anyone collect those fees.”

“So if those groups resist, we drive them out or kill them. If they submit, we take them in. Going straight for their source of income leaves them with nowhere to turn.”

Finally beginning to understand, Arne explained the third step himself.

“Once people start gathering, Skard will pick out those fit to fight and train them. Arne will assign work and supervise everyone, and Yorik will handle wages and the rest of our finances.”

“What about me?” Knut asked. After two days spent cleaning the house, he looked practically indistinguishable from a commoner.

“I have something else for you.”

“What?”

“There’s an organization called the Black Hand. You’ll be managing them.”

There would be no more mercy now. Valeri and the Black Hand had been helping each other all this time—in a sense, they were allies—but now he intended to swallow them whole.

“What do they do?”

“They’re a sort of thieves’ guild. More secretive and covert than other thieves’ guilds, I suppose. Something like that, anyway.”

“Sounds fun.”

Valeri had assigned everyone a role suited to their talents, as best he could. They were novices who had only just ventured into the world, so he did not expect everything to run smoothly from the start. But he believed it would work out in the end. He had achieved results in far more hopeless circumstances.

“And remember: our purpose is to defend this city. We won’t take either side in the war. Though we’ll use both sides if necessary, of course. I expect this war will probably bring about the duke’s downfall.”

Whether his friends believed him or not, the momentous events Valeri spoke of did not feel particularly real to them. They would understand once they experienced them. Knut said nothing.

As befitted someone who had earned the epithet the Salt Prince, Valeri enjoyed an excellent reputation in Gringen. Gathering workers was therefore easy. In fact, he did not even have to go looking for them; people came of their own accord. Under the direction of Arne and a hired builder, they hauled construction materials, built houses, raised stone walls, tilled vegetable gardens, and dug, shaped, and dried peat.

There were people watching from a distance. They wore cloths folded into triangles to cover their mouths and noses: the Black Hand. More precisely, the trio who usually negotiated with Valeri.

“What is he doing? Charity work?”

The Black Hand were meticulous, secretive, and unfailingly effective assassins, but they could hardly know anything about something they had never encountered or even heard of: running a city.

“Looks like he’s planning to trade in peat. But why bother building houses?”

“What’s that flag? What is that supposed to be? Surely not a frog?”

“I did hear people calling them the Frog Company.”

“The Frog Company? Can you even found a mercenary company with a name like that? It sounds like children playing games...”

In truth, names like the Widowmakers or the Ballsack Opener’s Slayers were more appropriate for a mercenary company. Mercenaries favored names that sounded threatening and impressive, and most companies were named accordingly.

“What are you staring at?”

Someone spoke behind them. All three darted into hiding like squirrels.

“What’s the point of hiding when I’ve already seen you?” Valeri said as he approached, with Knut beside him.

Even then, they did not show themselves. Knut looked up into a tree.

“That one climbed up there.”

Their technique was to climb a tree silently while outside the other person’s field of vision, but Knut’s sharp eyes had spotted it immediately.

“Let’s just have a normal conversation now, Rayleigh.”

One of the three flinched at Valeri’s words. It was the one who usually spoke with him. Secrecy was their greatest weapon, and also their weakness. Nothing left them more helpless than having their identities exposed. The Black Hand was like a sharp glass sword. Unfortunately for them, Valeri had returned from the future and knew exactly who they were.

Before his return, Valeri had risen quite high as an assassin, and these three had effectively formed the organization’s leadership then. He had learned later, after taking control of the army, that they were orphans from the same monastery. They were not yet legends in their profession, but they had been then, having helped the Black Hand seize control of all Gringen. He did not know whether they were something like middle managers at present.

“H-how...?”

One of them stepped out, still wearing the cloth over his nose and mouth. His eyes wavered.

“Funny, isn’t it? All I did was say your name, and now your organization will suspect you. They’ll probably torture you if they catch you. Roy, Ella—I knew you were hiding there every time we met, too, so come on out.”

The other two, Roy and Ella, felt their hearts plummet as well. Whatever else might be known, their real names were strictly confidential.

“Will you be tortured, or will you talk to me? Stop keeping me waiting and come out.”

Only then did the two jump down from the trees. Their soundless landings showed that they were already well trained. The Black Hand trio regarded Valeri and Knut with deeply wary, frightened eyes. Perhaps it was fear that kept their mouths tightly shut, reluctant to speak.

“Listen carefully, all three of you. Here’s what I want: from now on, the Black Hand will be a subordinate organization of our Frog Company. You’ll handle intelligence. Knut here will be our intelligence officer. In simple terms, you’ll teach him what he needs to know and do as he says.”

It was unbelievable enough that he knew their real names, and now he was making impossible demands out of nowhere. The trio could make no sense of what was happening or how they ought to respond. More accurately, their minds were in such turmoil that they could not think at all. Valeri then utterly blew their minds with an even more shocking statement.

“The guild master is the abbot, isn’t he? He takes in abandoned children and children with nowhere else to go, raises them, and sends the useless ones out begging—or just sells them off early. The ones with nimble fingers become pickpockets, and if they don’t meet their quota, he cuts off their fingers. Then he picks the best of them to become assassins. Am I right or not?”

Before his return, Valeri had not come from the monastery. That meant there was a limit to how high he could rise within the organization, no matter how capable he was. The upper ranks of the Black Hand were made up exclusively of people from the monastery.

“...”

“Let’s put a stop to that. Let’s kill the abbot and make sure no one can force those children to do those things anymore. You won’t have to keep covering your faces, either. No need to hide your names. All you have to do in return is work for us.”

Easier said than done. Even if it would benefit them, the trio could barely take in the situation as it stood.

“Knut is the third young lord. He’s on the run now, so he has no real authority, but at least he can give you someone to turn to. You could gain official recognition. You always dream of it, don’t you? Living ordinary lives, with your heads held high like everyone else. I’ll make that happen. Think it over.”

With that, Valeri turned to leave with Knut. After a short pause, Rayleigh hastily called after him.

“W-wait.”

Valeri looked back, and Rayleigh asked,

“How? How did you know?”

“Well... you’re still inexperienced. It all shows in your eyes. Those youthful feelings you keep inside.”

He could not tell them he knew because he had returned from the future. They would never believe it anyway. That did not mean what he had just said was a lie. The trio Valeri had known before his return had lifeless eyes, almost like machines. He did not know what they had gone through to become that way, but at least there was life in them now. Once it went out, even Valeri would be able to do nothing more for them. Except kill them.

“Hey.”

One of the three spoke, lowering her mask. It was Ella, the woman among them. She was missing a little finger, and a scar ran across her cheek.

“Give us your guarantee.”

“Of what?”

“That you’ll keep us safe.”

Valeri looked at Ella’s face. By revealing it, she had left herself no way back. Perhaps unwilling to leave her to face it alone, Rayleigh and Roy lowered their masks as well. Their faces were all youthful. Fifteen or sixteen, perhaps? They looked about Valeri’s age.

“If we drag this out, he might notice. Not because anyone talks, but because of tiny changes in your behavior. So we kill him tonight. That’s my guarantee of your safety.”

Valeri spoke coldly. But no one here was a stranger to coldness. Certainty was more comforting than a clumsy attempt at persuasion.

“... The abbot isn’t an easy opponent. We don’t live like this for no reason.”

“Do I look like an easy opponent?”

The trio had been watching Valeri all this time. The man they had seen was perfect in every respect. As his secret allies, they might well have witnessed his abilities at closer quarters than anyone else. Planning and execution, schemes, swordsmanship—his abilities were first-rate in every field. He possessed strength, courage, wisdom, resilience, and bold decisiveness.

He almost made them wonder whether this was what the heroes of legend had been like. No—even legendary heroes had each had some flaw, yet they could see none in Valeri. He was neither greedy nor a womanizer, and showed no human weakness that might shake him.

Perhaps it was because of those qualities, or perhaps there was something more, but as they watched him, hope had indeed begun to sprout in their hearts. If it were him, perhaps... That sort of hope. But they had been unable to approach him first.

“There’ll never be another man like you. Maybe that makes this the time to take the gamble of a lifetime,” Rayleigh said.

Perhaps because all his secrets had been exposed, he looked somehow helpless, his eyes forlorn. For the Black Hand, having their secrets revealed was tantamount to a death sentence. Valeri addressed him.

“Sorry, but I don’t gamble. I take on challenges. And I don’t fail them. Come to the house later. We’ll discuss the operation.”

With those words, Valeri turned and walked away with Knut. The trio remained standing there like abandoned children. None of them spoke. There truly was no going back now.

Could they really kill the abbot? Could they truly trust Valeri to the very end? As Rayleigh had said, this was the moment of a lifetime—a choice that would change everything. It was somewhat coercive, but Valeri had pushed them into it nonetheless.