Hasra, the capital of Pendia, was home to a staggering hundred thousand people.

When Shan first heard that, he thought Roden was exaggerating. How could more than a hundred thousand people possibly live in one city? Transporting all the food they ate and clearing away all the shit they produced would take the entire day. And how could anyone build walls enclosing enough space to hold them all?

But two days after joining the people Roden's father had sent and leaving the city of Ovilos, Shan began to think that boast might be true. The sheer number of people traveling between the capital and the neighboring towns and villages was astonishing.

Perhaps because the population was so dense, even the monsters found everywhere else in Pendia were rarely seen near the capital. At most, they occasionally saw a goblin screaming as a farmer beat it with a pitchfork for stealing crops.

By the time they finally reached the capital, Shan had to admit he had been wrong. Roden hadn't lied.

"Wow..."

Now he understood what Roden had meant when he said Ovilos was merely one of the smaller satellite cities. The city spread out below their hill was so vast and intricate that it seemed to stretch beyond comprehension. Stone walls, ordinarily no more than four or five meters high, stood over ten meters tall even at a glance, and extended beyond the horizon. The river running through the city was dozens of meters wide as well.

Naturally, with so many people coming and going, there was nothing resembling an inspection at the gates.

Roden dismounted and led his horse by the reins, speaking in a playful tone.

"Welcome to Hasra."

"You were born and raised here, right?"

"That's right."

"Amazing..."

It was hard to believe that while he had been struggling to get by in a little village of a hundred-odd people, someone else had been born and raised in a city this immense. It wasn't really jealousy. He simply found it astonishing that fellow human beings could live in such different worlds.

Of course, not everyone in the capital lived well. Many of the people walking the main streets wore shabby clothes, and the alleys between the large buildings held no shortage of beggars clad in rags.

Shan frowned when he realized that a considerable proportion of them were Altoans. He had noticed it back in Ovilos, too: none of the few people on the streets dressed in clean, expensive clothing were Altoans. The realization left him uncomfortable, as though a thorn were stuck in his throat.

"Well, here we are."

"So this is it."

Roden's home was about half an hour from the city gate. City residents lived in separate districts according to their class and occupation, and, befitting the home of the head of the capital's merchants' guild, his mansion was the largest and most lavish in the merchants' quarter.

The attendants who had brought Roden and Shan had gone ahead to announce them, so the mansion's front gates stood open in welcome.

"Welcome home, young master."

"Ah, Tata..."

The man greeting Roden with an impassive face was thin and looked to be in his mid-thirties. For some reason, Roden seemed ill at ease around him. He gave an awkward smile, then abruptly bowed his head in apology.

"I'm sorry. I didn't have any other way back then..."

"How could a mere servant presume to accept your apology? The master is waiting. Please wash and change first."

Judging by his icy tone, the man called Tata had no intention of accepting the apology. As for Shan, standing right beside Roden, he treated him as though he didn't exist.

At his brief bow, the maids led the two of them inside. Shan strode along and asked quietly,

"Roden, who was that man?"

"Tata? The butler and my father's deputy... His right-hand man, basically."

"You two didn't seem to get along very well."

"It's not that we don't get along. Hmm. I did something I shouldn't have."

Roden confessed that he had obtained the equipment and money he took when he ran away by lying to Tata. Since the money belonged to Roden's father, Kalion, that meant Tata had been tricked into giving away his master's assets.

Only then did Shan understand why things were so frosty between them.

"Oh, I see. I was going to give him a reason if he hated you for no reason."

As Shan spoke, he tapped the hilt of the sword at his waist. Roden asked, looking terrified,

"You're joking, right?"

"Yeah."

"Don't. You sound serious, and it's frightening."

Even as they chatted, Shan's green eyes constantly scanned their surroundings. Tapestries hung on the walls, hundreds of glass windows were covered by bright draperies, and plush carpets lined the floors...

Roden's mansion seemed the very embodiment of luxury. Staying at Poivre's mansion had already taught Shan a little about extravagance, but a place like this still left him unable to stop staring. Apparently, the claim that Roden's family was richer than most nobles hadn't been a lie.

A little later, when they reached the baths, the maids separated Shan from Roden.

"Now, this way, little young master."

"Huh?"

"Just stay still. We'll get you nice and clean."

"Off you go."

Judging by Roden's nonchalant response, this was apparently how important people normally did things. Even at Poivre's mansion, Shan had at least washed himself.

Hauled into the bath, he had his sword and clothes taken away without managing any resistance. If anyone had attempted that brusquely or with ill intent, he would have beaten them to a pulp or cut them down on the spot. But it was hard to do that to women smiling cheerfully and telling him he had to undress to wash.

For some reason, however, the maids' bright smiles gradually faded as his bare body was revealed. Some even covered their mouths with both hands, tears welling in their eyes.

"This is... so cruel..."

"How could anyone do such a thing!"

Were the scars on his body really that repulsive? Shan decided that, if he got the chance, he would ask a renowned priest to remove them, as Roden had once suggested. Of course, that would cost an enormous amount of money, so he would have to become much richer first.

For some reason, the maids touched him with the utmost care. Was it because they didn't want to touch his ugly scars?

Shan was more interested in the fragrant soap they used to wash him. He liked how it gave off a fresh scent even after it had been rinsed away, and found it fascinating to smell pleasant himself for the first time.

After the bath, he was dressed in clothes made from a soft material he had never seen before. They clung to his body so gently and comfortably that the sensation felt rather strange. As he wriggled without realizing it, Roden appeared, freshly washed and wearing similar clothes. He let out a bemused laugh at the sight of Shan.

"Dressed like that, you look like some green kid who's never known a day of hardship."

"I do?"

"Yeah. Not that Father would be taken in by appearances. Come on, then. We shouldn't keep an older man waiting too long."

Perhaps he had been waiting for them to finish washing. Tata returned and led them to a large reception room. Inside, a man in early old age, his hair turned white, was busily writing something on paper with a quill.

Sensing their arrival, he set down the quill and looked at Shan and Roden.

"So you're here."

Shan's first impression of Kalion Wievers, head of the Kingdom of Pendia's merchants' guild, was quite different from what he had expected. He had imagined someone like Mr. Poivre: round, thick about the belly, and easygoing in appearance. Instead, Kalion's sharp eyes, strong facial contours, and distinct features made him look exceedingly tough and rugged.

He seemed more like a retired old knight than a great merchant. In other words, he looked exactly like his son Roden. Though, in this case, it would be more accurate to say Roden resembled Kalion.

"I'm back, Father."

"Is that all you have to say after running away from home?"

"Well, I'm sorry. I'll pay back the money I spent later."

"You should have said that first."

For some reason, those words immediately seemed to mollify Kalion, and a pleased expression crossed his face. As though the real problem wasn't that his son had run away, but that he had stolen his money to do it.

Then his gaze turned to Shan.

"You must be the boy Roden mentioned in his letter. I hear you hunted a troll?"

"Not alone. Sir Katra and I killed it together."

Kalion looked momentarily taken aback by Shan's answer, then burst into hearty laughter.

"What an amusing lad! Most boys your age would be boasting, not resenting the fact that they couldn't kill a troll alone."

"If I could use spirit, I could have killed it by myself."

"Is that so."

With that meaningful reply, Kalion scribbled something on the paper on his desk. A moment later, he looked up and asked,

"So, what are your plans?"

"Pardon?"

"Surely you didn't come here expecting me to do everything for you."

"Oh, of course not..."

Roden hadn't expected his father to offer his cooperation so readily. He looked blank for a moment, then immediately began laying out the plans he had made.

"The first thing he needs is an education. As he just said, Shan still doesn't know how to use spirit. He needs to learn more etiquette and other basic knowledge, too."

"It would be stranger if he could use spirit at that age."

"He's going to stay here and build up his body properly. I'd like my old teacher to help him while he's doing that."

"Sir Darkal?"

"Yes."

Sir Darkal, Roden's former teacher, was an old veteran who had retired more than ten years ago. In other words, he had spent decades in combat and accumulated a wealth of experience. He was the ideal person to instruct a young aspiring knight.

"But I understand he follows the old faith."

"That's because of his family. He doesn't have any particular feelings about Altoans. I was his student, after all. I would know."

"Hmm. In that case, very well."

Kalion turned his gaze to Shan.

"What do you think?"

"Pardon?"

"We're deciding what to do with you from now on. We can't ignore the opinion of the person concerned, can we? Surely you have thoughts of your own."

Caught off guard by Kalion's question, Shan scratched his temple with his thumb before replying.

"I don't know anything about this sort of thing. I think we should do what Roden says."

"As I understand it, you haven't known my son for very long. Aren't you placing too much trust in him?"

"Roden said he'd help me become the strongest knight. I trust him."

Kalion regarded Shan with a grave gaze at that almost innocent answer. Was it merely the blind faith of a child who knew nothing of the world? Or the foolishness of someone relying on others because thinking was too much trouble?

But the letter he had received from Poivre made him hesitate to draw that conclusion. It had clearly stated that Shan hadn't simply followed Roden's lead, but had voiced his own opinions. A foolish child who truly regarded Roden as his guardian and left everything to him could never have done that.

'Does that mean he has a mind of his own, but trusts Roden enough to leave unfamiliar matters entirely in his hands?'

If so, nothing could be better. Someone without convictions would eventually be swayed by others and fall by the wayside; without enough trust, they would part ways sooner or later. What would be the point of sponsoring him from childhood, then?

The instincts he had honed over decades as a great merchant told him that the boy before his eyes truly was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

* * *

After ten-odd minutes of conversation, Kalion Wievers promised to sponsor Shan in his quest to become a knight. That did not mean unlimited support, however. A well-fed cat did not hunt, after all.

Kalion's support was restricted to food, clothing, and shelter, the maintenance of a minimum standard of respectability, and the expenses required for training as a knight.

Of course, even that was enough to utterly melt the heart of an Altoan boy who had lived his whole life in poverty. Every day, fragrant drinks and dishes combining sweet, salty, sour, and spicy flavors in perfect harmony endlessly teased his tongue and mouth. Fine clothes made of soft fabrics, a plush bed, warm bathwater, and attentive maids kept his body comfortable.

Some of the servants and maids looked at Shan disapprovingly, perhaps because they followed the old faith, but they neither picked fights nor openly mistreated him, so he could ignore them.

Given luxurious food and a place to sleep unlike anything he had ever experienced—or even imagined—Shan truly felt as though he had entered another world. Perhaps this was what the Goddess's hall, where those who had lived good lives went after death, was like.

Unlike Shan, who leisurely enjoyed every luxury, Roden seemed quite busy and tired. Shan didn't really understand it, but the way Roden constantly carried paper and a pen around, writing things down, suggested he was doing something complicated and difficult.

After a week spent feeling as though he were floating among the clouds, Shan sought out Roden, who was still hard at work.

"Are you sure it's all right for me to keep doing this?"

"Is something making you uncomfortable?"

"No. I just thought I ought to be doing that training or something. Doing nothing but playing around makes me uneasy."

Shan had felt this way before, back when he first left the village and made the hut his base, roaming the forests and fields. Every day had been fun, but nothing changed. He had felt as though he were walking in place, with nothing getting any better.

He had followed Roden because he hated that feeling. If he simply wallowed in pleasure here, wasn't it exactly the same?

Seeing him like this, Roden inwardly clenched a fist in triumph.

'I knew it...'

In truth, throwing Shan defenseless into a life of comfort had been Kalion's test. His reasoning was that, if the boy's resolve was so rotten that this much comfort could turn him into a well-fed pig, no amount of talent would make him useful.

But just as Roden had hoped, Shan hadn't lost his desire to improve, even while immersed in every modern comfort.

That delighted Roden beyond measure, yet also made him feel sorry for the boy. Once proper training began, pain would descend on him that even his present happiness would not be enough to erase.

"Don't worry about it. Enjoy yourself. Your real training will start once your teacher arrives, anyway."

"Honestly, I'd be fine with you teaching me."

Roden smiled wryly at an exchange they had already had several times.

"It doesn't work like that. You need systematic training from someone qualified, or you'll run into problems... If you're tired of just lounging around the house, why don't we look around the capital?"

"I thought you were busy?"

"I can spare a little time."

In fact, the reason Shan hadn't gone outside was that Roden always seemed busy. Wandering alone among strangers made him uneasy, and he was also afraid of getting lost in a capital so vast and complicated.

A short while later, Shan and Roden left the mansion and first headed north along the main road. They were going to see the thing Shan had named when asked what he most wanted to see in the capital.

"Oh, Roden! That tall building over there is the palace, right? Where the king lives!"

"His Majesty the King, I've told you. And don't point like that. You could get arrested."

"Oh!"

At Roden's warning, Shan hurriedly lowered his finger and looked around. Fortunately, no one was paying them any particular attention.

"Getting arrested just for pointing at a building, not even a person? That's strange."

"That's how a society built on rank works. Nothing we can do about it... Ah, there it is. We're here."

Shan looked where Roden indicated and let out another exclamation. A truly unreal-looking building stood there: a tower that gleamed as though carved from amethyst.

This was the headquarters of Pendia's Magic Society.

"So this is where we can see mages..."

"That's right. If someone looks like all they do is study, you can assume they're a mage. Ah, there's one."

Following Roden's gaze, Shan saw a middle-aged man with a stooped back and a neck that jutted forward. He wore amethyst spectacles, and dark shadows lay beneath his eyes, perhaps from fatigue. Several people like him were walking around near the Magic Society.

Shan looked rather disappointed as he watched them.

"They're a little different from what I imagined..."

"What did you imagine?"

"Pointed hats, robes, and staffs."

Wasn't that how most mages dressed in the old stories? They cackled and cast wicked magic, only to be slashed by valiant knights' swords and fall screaming into cauldrons to be boiled.

But the mages here had none of that mysterious, sinister air. They simply looked half-mad from endlessly pondering one thing after another.

"They look like you do these days, busy with work."

"Saying I look like a mage is quite the insult... Well, let's go inside, anyway."

"Can we go in if we aren't mages?"

"The first floor receives visitors, so that's fine. You have to be a mage to go upstairs, though."

To Shan's astonishment, the Magic Society's front doors opened on their own as the two approached, with no one touching them. He stared, spellbound, then realized that no one else found it remarkable. Apparently, such things weren't particularly surprising here.

"The doors opened by themselves."

"Magic, presumably. They really do waste magic stones on anything and everything."

Roden clicked his tongue, saying it would be far cheaper to have someone open a door than to enchant it to open on its own. As a merchant's son, he found such pointless waste almost impossible to stomach.

Stepping through the open doors, Shan immediately turned his head to survey the surroundings. Apart from the stone all around and the expensive furniture, the interior didn't seem particularly unusual.

No, there was one unusual thing.

"Everyone here looks rich."

"They stop anyone who looks poor at the entrance. They let us in because, well, look at what we're wearing."

It was true that both Roden and Shan were wearing fine clothes and looked wealthy. Roden actually was wealthy, too.

Just as they were about to start looking at the enchanted items sold on the first floor, they saw a group of people descending from the second amid a clamor of voices. Roden frowned, apparently no more aware of the reason than Shan.

"What's going on?"

There was no anger in the voices, so it didn't seem to be an unpleasant sort of commotion. As they watched, the people who had come downstairs soon passed beside them: several unmistakable mages, four well-armed knights, and a girl under their guard.

The girl, her dark blue hair hanging loose, met Shan's gaze squarely with her reddish-brown eyes.