The western part of the continent was a place of ceaseless strife. A bloodthirsty land where wars still erupted at every opportunity. At the heart of that strife stood the Iron Kingdom of Chervil.

A kingdom of iron that championed survival of the fittest and loved conflict. The blood of a warrior people flowed through its inhabitants, and so, when hunger struck, taking up blades to pillage and rob instead of farming was simply a way of life.

In the Iron Kingdom, mountain bandits could be found on any mountain, and anyone wandering alone at night was liable to encounter robbers. They were common enough to boast of as a local specialty.

Among those teeming bands of thieves, one bandit company had made quite a name for itself.

"So some knight was blocking the entrance to that backwater village."

"That's what I'm telling you."

"Not some beggar of a wandering knight from the Free City, but a proper knight?"

The bandit company known as the Red Wolves.

"Yes. He wasn't some nobody, I swear! He even gave his name. It was, uh, Petel. Petel! Judging by the air about him, I'd say he came from a prestigious knightly order—"

There was one reason the Red Wolves were notorious even among the most vicious bandit companies.

"Hmm, is that so? Then those rumors about a plague or a dark mage were nonsense. All they had was one knight."

"Wh-what do we do?"

"Let's go. We ought to avenge our dead man."

The leader of the Red Wolves.

"It's been a while since I last put my blade to work."

One man whose abilities were far beyond anything that belonged in this backwater.

"I fucking hate knights."

* * *

Petel handed me a cup of warm tea and began his account.

"The unwelcome visitor whose life I took called his group the Red Wolves Brotherhood."

"That sounds like the sort of name a knightly order would use."

"Yes. To be honest, that was why I found it deeply offensive when I first heard it."

Combining a particular color with an animal's name was the traditional way knights named their orders. Well-known examples included the Blue Lions, the Black Leopard Cats, and the Pure White Snakes.

"Mere bandits, naming themselves in the manner of a knightly order. Had the knights of the city where I lived, or the honorable knights of the capital, heard of it, they might have set out at once to punish them. Names carry that much meaning. Ahem."

Petel gave a dry cough, excused himself, and took a sip of tea.

"Still, ahem. Seeing how boldly they flaunt such a name... they may be a larger group than we think, or a rather powerful one."

"Why is that?"

"It may mean they don't care, ahem, whether using that name brings them needless trouble."

Petel's reasoning was sound. In that case, caution couldn't hurt.

However remote this place might be, the Iron Kingdom was a land where any sort of monster could suddenly emerge without surprising anyone.

"Did you happen to notice anything distinctive about them, or hear where their hideout might be?"

"... Why are you asking for such detail? Young lord, surely you aren't planning to go wipe them out alone?"

At Petel's question, I could only smile awkwardly. Seeing my expression, he abruptly raised his voice.

"Don't even think of doing something so dangerous! What makes you think you can go there alone? Even if they attack us someday, we're far better off holding out here!"

"..."

"Besides, if these bandits are copying knightly traditions to give themselves a name and then boasting about it, an order that hears the rumors might come wipe them out even if we do nothing. There's no reason to push yourself so... Ahem, khack!"

Petel broke off his impassioned speech to cough up blood. This time, he couldn't brush it aside as he had before. He kept coughing, and I could see his complexion worsening rapidly.

"Are you all right?"

"Honestly, no."

Petel slowly let out a deep breath and wiped the sweat from his forehead. Then, in a subdued voice, he spoke as though urging me to listen.

"I'm feeling so unwell that I think I need to go in and rest for now."

"Rest well."

"... Young lord, don't do anything foolish. It truly is dangerous."

Petel glared at me with the anxious look of someone watching a child left by the water. Then he added one last warning in a serious voice.

"You don't yet know how cruel and dangerous the Iron Kingdom's bandits are."

Hearing that, I nearly said something I shouldn't. Swallowing the words that had risen to my throat, I smiled and waved.

What I'd almost said was simple.

'Even so, could bandits possibly be more cruel and dangerous than a swordmaster?'

I had already lived through the most terrifying, brutal calamity on this continent.

"Ahem, ahem!"

Petel limped toward his bedroll. Seolyun appeared from somewhere and lent him her support as he walked forlornly away. He looked startled for a moment, then gave a faint smile.

"Thank you."

"... It's nothing."

In a slightly somber voice, Seolyun murmured so softly I could barely hear her.

"I can't just walk past someone who's sick."

Watching my two neighbors recede into the distance, I turned to Liam. He was staring straight at me.

"So, when should I leave?"

「This evening. At once.」

I felt sorry for Petel, but my master's command came first.

"I'd better get ready."

I turned my gaze toward the back of the village.

A mountain stood there.

* * *

Verdi, in the southern Iron Kingdom, was a region crowded with mountains. Most of it was rugged terrain with slopes that looked as though they had been sheared away, rather than level ground. Its population was small, and the capital took little interest in the south, so there had been no development whatsoever.

As a result, Verdi remained almost a wilderness. Even bandits abandoned it for other regions, saying there was nothing worth stealing.

Winding mountain paths and the utter darkness that fell after sunset made this place a maze. That was why the members of the Red Wolves bandit company disliked it.

"Fuck, why's the captain so obsessed with this backwater?"

"He's always been odd. Must've taken an interest in those nasty rumors going around the village lately."

"Since when are strange rumors in some backwater village anything new? Probably just attention-starved bards or drunken louts spouting nonsense!"

The bandits spat phlegm onto the ground.

"Why'd we come to this fucking countryside? No food, no women, no beer!"

"That last village was great. All the men had been drafted for the war, so there were only women left, right? Ah, I should've settled down there."

"Heh heh. Stay there, and you'd have ended up with over ten wives. Just like the Steel Count."

They walked on, barely pushing back the surrounding darkness with the torches in their hands. The rough, uneven mountain trail made even a short walk feel as though it were draining their stamina away.

"I want to leave this miserable village behind and get somewhere else already."

"Tell me about it. What does the captain think he'll find here?"

Making one's way through the mountains after sunset was no easy task. Even experienced rangers had to move cautiously in Verdi's mountains. For untrained bandits to navigate them skillfully was all but impossible.

"I'm freezing to death. Does the weather turn like this the moment night falls?"

"It's a goddamn backwater, isn't it?"

Relying on their torches, they walked with their eyes fixed ahead.

And so there was something they failed to notice.

"Hey, why's the youngest been so quiet? Feels like only the two of us are talking."

Their once-boisterous voices were dwindling.

"... What the hell? Why aren't you answering?"

And now only one voice remained.

"Is this a joke? Hey, you fucking bastards. Don't you know I hate this sort of shit?"

Only one man's voice echoed along the mountain path. When no answer came, he stopped dead. Then he began to tremble, unable to understand what was happening.

"... Guys?"

Sensing something ominous, the man turned his torch behind him instead of ahead.

And—

"Uh—"

All the Red Wolves who had been following him lay sprawled on the dirt as though asleep. Dazed, the man stared at his fallen companions.

Their eyes were wide open, their mouths agape. Each had a hole in precisely the same spot on his neck. Thick red blood was streaming from those holes—

"Uh, uh. What the hell is—ghk."

Panicking at the sudden turn of events, the man had been babbling to himself when his voice abruptly stopped. His trembling body lifted into the air.

Had a ghost appeared?

Or had a wild beast attacked?

Before he could make sense of anything, his airborne body slammed into the dirt. At the same time, horrible pain erupted around the Achilles tendons of both ankles. Something pierced skin and flesh, severing the tendons. At a sensation unlike anything he had ever experienced, the man nearly screamed.

"Shh."

But something clamped over his mouth, preventing him from making a sound. It was a hand. A human hand, not that of a ghost or beast.

"Not much to you, is there? Walking a mountain path like this without preparing for an ambush."

Amid pain that threatened to drive him mad, the man was completely subdued. His attacker had cut his ankle tendons, planted a knee firmly on his chest, and pinned his wrists with tools he couldn't identify.

Most decisive of all was the dagger, sharp as a tooth.

The unknown assailant who had emerged from the dark had overpowered him in an instant and now held the dagger's point against his neck. The man felt the cold touch of death against his skin.

Overwhelming terror surged through him. The corpses of his companions, dead with their eyes still open, swam before his eyes.

"You're about the same as the unwelcome visitors who used to come to me. Still, it can't hurt to be careful."

The voice sounded young.

The attacker picked up the torch the man had dropped. Only when he raised the burning torch did his face become visible.

He was a boy.

A boy in adolescence, fifteen at most, with a face as delicate as a flower raised in a greenhouse. Yet the man couldn't rage, 'How dare some wet-behind-the-ears brat—'

The boy's eyes were as cold as those of a Free City assassin. Judging by those eyes alone, he could have believed he was facing a ghost.

"I have questions for you."

The boy spoke, glaring down at him. Only on hearing those words did the man realize the boy was no longer covering his mouth. His head reeled.

The fear of death was strangling him.

"Where is your band's hideout? How many members do you have, and are any of them dangerous...? Tell me everything you know."

The boy's voice poured down like ice.

The man stammered a reply.

"I-if I d-do that, I'll be k-killed."

"If you don't, I'll kill you."

"H-hic... The c-captain, the captain'll kill my whole family, too."

The man muttered through hitching sobs.

The boy asked,

"Captain?"

"Y-yes! Our c-captain's a m-monster!"

The man broke into loud sobs.

This unknown boy was terrifying, too. He feared dying as miserably as his companions sprawled over there.

But frightening as imminent death was, the captain frightened him more. A monster far bigger and crueler than this boy, someone he could scarcely consider human.

Seeking mercy, the man forced the words out.

"O-our brotherhood's captain... is a deserter knight."

* * *

Night had fallen, bringing darkness in the wake of the setting sun.

Petel, who had been nodding off before the campfire, awoke at the touch of a slender hand.

"Knight, wake up."

Normally, even in deep sleep, he would have awakened the instant he sensed someone's presence. But the illness eating away at his body had now dulled his senses to those of an ordinary person.

Petel wiped the drool from his mouth and rubbed his eyes.

The person who had woken him was Seolyun, the girl young Lord Arhan had brought back.

"... Has something happened?"

Still half asleep, Petel looked at Seolyun through half-open eyes, but her expression was troubling. Realizing something had happened, he hastily rose.

Seolyun said, "We have visitors."

"Oh dear. I'm not in good shape."

"You don't need to worry about that."

He didn't need to worry? What did she mean?

Seeing the question on Petel's face, Seolyun explained.

"You'd never have beaten them even if you were perfectly healthy."

Petel nearly chuckled at her words.

After all, in his day, he had been a knight who could hold his own anywhere. He had never broken through the barrier to sword runner, but through grueling effort he had still earned considerable recognition...

"Ah."

"See? I was right."

But the moment he followed Seolyun to the village entrance, Petel admitted she was right.

A knightly order stood there.

Judges wearing silver helmets and armor that encased their entire bodies without a gap, mounted on trained horses. Petel limped toward them and spoke.

"What brings such distinguished gentlemen here?"

Their answer was brief.

"We've come to kill a runaway dog."

A runaway dog.

There was only one kind of person knights called that.

A deserter knight. A knight who had abandoned his order, sullying the honor more precious than his life.

A knightly order never forgave a deserter, no matter what.

Sensing the ominous atmosphere, Petel asked for an explanation. The knight at the very front elaborated.

"Word is, the runaway dog gathered a pack of backwater vermin and is pretending to be a wolf. He even named his filthy band of thieves according to knightly tradition, making us a laughingstock. The knights in the capital mocked us, saying we'd been thoroughly bested by a runaway dog."

"..."

"We hear he's going around calling it the Red Wolves Brotherhood or some such. We have intelligence that they're operating in this area. If you know anything, we expect your cooperation."

A filthy band of thieves. Knightly tradition. The Red Wolves Brotherhood.

The moment those three phrases came together, Petel's eyes widened. At the same time, he remembered what he had said earlier.

["If these bandits are copying knightly traditions to give themselves a name and then boasting about it, an order that hears the rumors might come wipe them out even if we do nothing."]

What he had described as merely a possibility had become reality.

No, perhaps the reality was far more dramatic than he had anticipated.

"You there. Say something."

This order hadn't come simply to wipe out a bandit company.

They had arrived in anger, with judgment as their justification.

Petel knew that angry knights with a righteous cause became truly terrifying. He knew that all too well.

And there was something else that stood out sharply.

The man at the head of the order, who appeared to be its leader.

"Cooperate while I'm still asking nicely."

A pair of wings, small but unmistakable, was visible on the man.

Their meaning was clear.

"My patience has already run out."