* * *

Valeri and his companions traveled all night, only crossing out of Eldeira at dawn.

There was no particular reason for their haste. Perhaps there was one somewhere deep down, but Valeri did not dwell on it.

They were now in Nearcaster, the region bordering Eldeira to the south. More precisely, they were in the earldom of Westlanding, part of the duchy of Nearcaster.

A vast expanse of grassland stretched before them. Low hills and level ground followed one another like gentle ripples.

Unlike in a city, the sky seemed especially vast. With no tall mountains in sight, the horizon met the sky wherever they looked.

Most of the grass reached only to their ankles. Trees stood in scattered clusters, as though friends with similar tastes had gathered in their own little groups.

It did not look as though it would rain, but clouds like thick quilts covered the sky. There was more white and gray up there than blue, one might say.

Then came the sunrise. Standing in the ceaseless wind, Valeri, Knut, and Yorik watched the sun rise far to the east.

They saw, vividly and unmistakably, how light swept away the darkness and illuminated the world.

They prepared to camp nearby. Making camp first thing in the morning was a little absurd, but they intended to rest properly for a day and set off again the next.

A stone wall ran endlessly across the grassland. Who had built it, when, or for what purpose was anyone’s guess. They chose a spot beside it and pitched their tent.

After they unloaded their belongings and built a fire, Yorik set a pot over it. The three ate, then settled straight down to sleep.

The sound of the wind, the newly risen sunlight, and the crackle of the campfire felt like the most soothing lullaby in the world.

Reclining comfortably, Valeri began the exercise Sigrún had taught him. There was nothing particularly extraordinary about it.

He focused on his breathing and observed the energy called the power of the rune circulating through his body, consciously imagining himself gathering it in his heart and releasing it again.

He completed the process in a single breath. Just as he breathed all the way in and all the way out, he repeatedly gathered all the power into his heart, then expelled it all.

When he released it, vitality surged through his whole body. Forcing it back into his heart felt somewhat constricting and exhausting. In a way, it was rather like practicing holding his breath.

As he repeated the process, however, he experienced an unfamiliar sensation, as though he could vividly see everything around him even with his eyes closed.

He sensed every blade of grass brushing against the wind. He could feel the physical condition of the snoring Yorik and tell Knut’s emotional state from his heartbeat, all as clearly as if he were seeing them.

While immersed in these strange experiences, he naturally maintained that distinctive breathing pattern without conscious effort.

Eventually, he could no longer tell whether he was asleep or in a state of utmost mental clarity. Even his sense of time grew hazy, and reality itself began to feel distant.

‘Huh? Am I going to lose myself at this rate?’

The sudden unease jolted him awake, as though he had been floating through the sky only for someone to seize his ankle and yank him down.

“Ah! You startled me. I was just about to wake you.”

Yorik had been on the verge of shaking him awake when Valeri woke on his own, giving him a fright.

The tent flapped in the wind. The sun was well up; it was midmorning.

Had he slept for three or four hours? Or had he been meditating? Valeri felt strange, but his mind and body could not have felt more refreshed.

“Isn’t it a bit early to wake me? I think we could sleep a little longer.”

Knut answered him while stirring the pot with a ladle.

“What are you talking about? You slept all day. It’s the next day already. You wouldn’t wake up, so we were starting to think something was wrong.”

“I slept all day?”

Valeri looked around. He had certainly gone to sleep in the morning, but a whole day had passed, another morning had come, and now it was midmorning.

He rose and looked over the stone wall. The wind sent waves through the grass like soft, flowing hair.

“You must have been very tired. Understandably so. But unless we’re planning to live here forever, how about eating and setting off again?” Yorik said.

It was perfectly reasonable, so there was nothing to argue about. They ate a stew made by boiling together a miscellaneous assortment of ingredients.

Afterward, they gave the pot a quick wash and took down the tent. They scattered dirt over the campfire and stamped it out, then loaded their belongings and set off again. It was around noon.

“When we stop at the next village, how about buying a wagon first? And hiring some people, too. We have a long journey ahead, so I think that would be best.”

Valeri thought Yorik had a point and nodded.

The three followed the lone road across the vast grassland. Each glance around at that wide-open expanse left them feeling refreshed.

Farther along, they spotted a flock of sheep in the fields, a sign that people lived nearby. There was no shepherd in sight. Presumably they were sitting somewhere out there, taking a rest.

Sure enough, by late afternoon they reached a village surrounded by a palisade. Once inside, they found it resembled a small town rather than a village whose inhabitants did nothing but farm.

Then there was the smell. A mingling of rot, shit, and piss immediately cured them of any longing for the smells of human habitation.

A merchant at the market was selling freshly butchered meat. Flies buzzed around it, and some of it looked half-rotten.

The people did not appear to be starving, but there was something about them—a lack of vitality or spirit. Nor were the looks they gave the two mounted outsiders particularly friendly.

After asking for directions, they headed to a tavern that also served as an inn. They left their horses in the stable, fed them carrots, and filled the trough with water before doing anything else.

The tavern was packed. What struck them as odd was that few of the patrons looked local; many were armed outsiders.

They wore swords at their hips, and polearms stood against the walls. Dice, cards, and coins lay scattered across round and square tables.

The patrons gave Valeri’s party a cursory glance, then paid them little attention. Or rather, Valeri’s handsome face did draw their eyes for a moment.

He went straight to the bartender.

“We’re travelers coming from the north. We’d like to hire a wagon and some people. Someone to tend the fires and do odd jobs.”

“... You look rather too refined for a northerner. Seems you came on horseback, too. Are you nobility?”

“No.”

Valeri chose not to mention his or Knut’s status. It might only make things troublesome.

The bartender nodded as though he understood.

“Try speaking to the headman. But I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”

“Where is he?”

Instead of answering, the bartender pointed with his chin. Looking that way, they saw a middle-aged man lounging somewhat askew in his chair. He raised a hand and waggled his fingers at them in greeting. Clearly, he had already been watching them.

Something about his face, or perhaps his manner, did not suggest a village headman. He looked more like a thug.

Valeri approached him, weaving around the many people crowding the tavern.

On the way, someone tried to grope his ass.

“Fucking bitch, aren’t you a pretty thing.”

But the man never reached his ass. Valeri caught his wrist.

“Ooooh!”

Those nearby snickered and cheered. The man who had tried to grope him gave a filthy grin.

“How much? I’ll give you a whole head’s worth of bounty money. How much for a fuck?”

Valeri was not angry. This was hardly the first time someone had acted like this over his face. He was merely a little irritated by the nuisance.

Rather than bother answering, he drew on the power of the rune. His grip instantly tightened.

CRUNCH.

An unnatural sound rang out. The filthy grin drained from the face of the man behaving like an animal, leaving him deathly pale. Then came the scream.

“Aaaaaagh!”

Only then did Valeri release his wrist. The broken joint dangled limply, and the laughter rapidly vanished from the faces around them.

“What? What happened?”

“Randy’s wrist is broken.”

“I’m asking how it got broken!”

“Hey, think you’re tough, do you?”

Ignoring the chatter around him, Valeri approached the man who was supposedly the headman.

Someone shouted behind him and tried to strike his head with a wooden cup.

“Hey, you bastard! You ignoring us?!”

Valeri spun around and struck him with the back of his clenched fist. With a heavy thwack, broken teeth sprayed through the air, and the man toppled onto the people nearby.

The person who caught him recoiled at the sight. His jaw was completely smashed. Wide-eyed, the onlooker kept glancing from Valeri to the fallen man and back again.

The others nearby reacted much the same way.

Valeri turned back to the headman and approached him again.

“I’d like to get a baggage wagon. And someone to do odd jobs.”

“...”

The headman looked at Valeri, glanced at the unconscious man behind him, then looked back. His initial playful smile had disappeared entirely.

He studied Valeri closely for a while. Tall and well built though he was, he did not seem powerful enough to break a man’s wrist with his grip alone or shatter a jaw with a single punch. The discrepancy was a little difficult to reconcile.

What was more, there was a youthful cast to his face. He might be younger than the headman had assumed.

“What’s your name?”

“Valeri.”

“A foreigner? That doesn’t sound like a northern name.”

“I’ve come from Eldeira.”

“... Let’s go outside and talk.”

He rose, said something to the people at his table, and gave them instructions with a gesture before heading straight out of the tavern.

Valeri swept his gaze across the room. People flinched wherever his eyes landed.

“They never learn until someone hits them. Maybe next time we should beat one of them up before we even start. Ptooey.”

Yorik spat on the floor, then left the tavern with his companions.

While Yorik and Knut fetched the horses from the stable, Valeri followed the headman. The man crossed the market and entered a house nearby.

Dust had accumulated throughout the interior, and papers lay strewn over a table that appeared to serve as a desk. He swept them into a rough pile, tossed them aside, and spoke.

“I’m Oder, headman of Benholm here. Pleased to meet you. Sit wherever you like.”

Valeri answered with a nod. Knut and Yorik came in shortly afterward.

“You’re looking for a baggage wagon?”

“That’s right.”

“Unfortunately, we don’t have one here. It isn’t a matter of price. There simply isn’t one. You’d have to go to a farming village to find one, but some thugs have taken the place over.”

“Thugs have occupied the village?”

“Swordsmen, mercenaries, adventurers—whatever you call them, you know the sort who go around wearing swords. Westlanding has always attracted plenty of them. So a village getting taken over isn’t all that rare.”

To the west of Westlanding lay a forest called Hod, so dense and vast that no one knew where it ended. Monsters lived there, and it seemed to form a boundary with the lands inhabited by humans.

Consequently, many outpost villages like Belfort stood along its edges, drawing armed outsiders in search of work.

As these people drifted in, stabbings and villages being occupied became fairly common occurrences. And so other people came to resolve those problems.

Swordsmen, mercenaries, adventurers—whatever one called them, people who went around wearing swords.

“So you’re saying you’ll give us a baggage wagon if we deal with them?”

“Good, you catch on quickly. That’s right. Consider it a commission.”

“There seemed to be plenty of people at the tavern.”

“Not one of them is any use. You looked a little more promising.”

Valeri looked at Knut, asking his opinion with a glance. Knut neither nodded nor shook his head. He simply closed his eyes once and opened them again, leaving the decision to Valeri.

Valeri turned back to Headman Oder.

“All right, for now.”

“Mm, glad you’re receptive. They’re not opponents to take lightly, but if you can smash a jaw with one punch, you might manage. Sleep here. The tavern’s crawling with bugs and rats. You might wake up missing a toe.”

That last remark was an exaggerated joke, but their brief visit had been enough to establish what an unpleasant place the tavern was. The headman’s house was not particularly nice, but it was certainly better than that.

Headman Oder rose and spoke as he headed outside.

“Make yourselves at home. Just don’t stay too long. If you have any questions, find me at that tavern. Come find me when you’ve finished the job, too.”

Then he left, all but handing his house over to Valeri’s party. There was something refreshingly straightforward about him.

“I have a bad feeling about this.”

Knut spoke as soon as the headman left. Valeri agreed. He went over to where the headman had been sitting and examined the papers. A quick look revealed an assortment of commissions.

Exterminating wandering goblins, enforcing debt collection, tracking criminals, paying bounties, making and delivering oak barrels, contracts for importing oats, and so on.

“This fireplace looks like it hasn’t been used in a long time.”

Yorik had been trying to light a fire. Valeri quietly surveyed the house before speaking.

“This wasn’t his house to begin with.”

“Seems that way. Someone else owned it before,” Knut agreed.

“What does he do? He doesn’t seem like a headman. I’d take him for a thug, but he does seem to get the work done.”

“Why don’t we sleep here tonight and ask around tomorrow? I bought some fresh meat at the market earlier, so I’ll cook us a delicious feast,” Yorik said.

He was right.

Right though his suggestion was, dinner itself was not particularly tasty. Still, they could hardly be fussy about food on the road, so they ate their fill and went to sleep.

It was their first proper night since leaving Eldeira.