“But Your Highness always has royal knights guarding you, does she not?”

As he spoke, Shan glanced at the two knights standing behind her.

Objectively speaking, their skills were not particularly impressive. At best, they were about as good as Sir Katra, whom he had met before, or slightly worse. Otherwise, he could never have beaten two sword-wielding knights barehanded, however much their attacks had been blunted by their efforts to subdue him. Had they possessed even the skill of Sir Gowell, Count Shedil’s retainer, Shan would have had to accept some injuries.

Frankly, they seemed woefully below the standard of the famed royal guards. Could people who served royalty really be inferior to a mere count’s knight?

Sherin’s next words answered that question.

“They are not in royal service. As I said, I have few allies at court. If I took royal guards out with me incognito, all my movements would be exposed. Aran and Kagon were assigned to me separately by my uncle.”

Sherin’s maternal uncle would be that Count Pales he had heard about before. Having heard her explanation, Shan thought he understood why their skills were so unremarkable. A domain that monsters almost never invaded would naturally feel little need to train and retain knights of exceptional ability. Conversely, talented knights would hardly want to stay somewhere they could not build their careers.

“You have pressed me with questions long enough. Now I would like to ask one myself. Why do you wish to become a knight?”

“I want to rise in the world and have a domain of my own.”

At Shan’s concise answer, Sherin’s expression grew somewhat bored. Wanting a domain was a thoroughly commonplace dream, shared by anyone who strutted about calling himself a knight. But his next words brought a serious look to her face.

“I understand Pendia is the only country in the Alliance where Altoans can settle and live.”

“Indeed. Libert and Ajun follow the Old Faith, so they go without saying, but even Horace and Luman, which follow the New Faith, are not kindly disposed toward Altoans.”

Horace, the grassland nation in the west of the Arman Alliance, was a country where obsession with bloodlines ran rampant. Perhaps it stemmed from their tradition of fixating on pure blood in breeding the finest horses, but they treated even the Alliance’s fellow Westerners as outsiders and discriminated against them.

As for Luman, it had once been the best country for Altoans to live in—until they had risen in rebellion, been crushed, and been expelled.

“But even in Pendia, Altoans are always at the bottom of society. I want to create a domain where they can live without fear.”

It was the traveling Altoan troupe he had met in the past that had inspired this dream in Shan. Their only skill was making a spectacle of their unusual bodies, so they could not even come to Pendia. They had been forced to bow their heads and endure society’s cruel persecution.

Things were much the same in Pendia, only less severe. Half of Pendia followed the Old Faith, and its adherents’ pressure meant Altoans could not even become knights, as Shan’s own situation demonstrated. Naturally, with so many obstacles to forging ties with those in power, success as a merchant was difficult too, and whenever the public mood turned ugly, all manner of persecution rained down on them.

Apart from those living in cities, most Altoans in eastern Pendia formed villages of their own rather than mingling with Westerners. Naturally, the places Westerners did not inhabit were harsher lands with more monsters, leaving the Altoans perpetually poor.

Shan wanted land where they could live in comfort. With an Altoan lord and several Altoans among the knights and administrators, people would no longer be able to discriminate against them simply by relying on strength of numbers. And if that lord were a powerful knight who culled the monsters, they might even occupy better land and prosper, just as the princess had described earlier.

“Would that not eventually lead to creating a country exclusively for Altoans? If we accept the hypothesis that knights are a kind of mage, would that not be precisely the coming of the Savior the Restorationists yearn for?”

“I have no interest in going so far as to restore the Alto Empire. Nor do I think it is something I could accomplish.”

To begin with, even if every Altoan in the world were gathered together, they would struggle to fill a few domains, let alone an entire country. Besides, the moment they attempted such a thing, every country in the Arman Alliance would muster a joint army and rush over to tear them apart.

No, even the several thousand troops Pendia’s lords could muster would render Shan’s individual strength meaningless. Unless he were one of the great mages of the old Alto Empire, who were said to have truly leveled mountains and carved away rivers, he could not dare dream of such a thing.

“I see. You would be content to serve as a beacon for a powerless people.”

For some reason, hearing Shan’s ambition seemed to put Sherin in an excellent mood. Wearing a languid smile like a well-fed cat, she lightly clapped her hands.

“Very well. Shall we move on to business? I will knight you. And... I will not demand an oath of fealty. If you wish, you may freely pursue life as a knight-errant.”

“Pardon?”

Then what on earth would the princess gain? Not only Shan, but even Roden behind him nearly blurted out the question. Only moments ago, they had been talking about five years or seven. What was this sudden change of stance?

“I sought to bind you with a contract because I could not otherwise make you do as I wished. But... now I see that there may never have been any need.”

Sherin paused to drink the tea on the table. The Wievers mansion’s tea was quite fine in its own right, but judging by her faint grimace, it did not particularly suit her palate.

“I told you before. Those men I call my elder brothers are both blithering idiots. If your goal is not merely to look after yourself and win renown as a knight, then you must help me become queen to achieve that grand dream of yours. Whether you enter into vassalage or not.”

Only then did Roden understand why Sherin looked so triumphant. Hearing Shan’s ambition just now, she had realized that he was already a fish on her hook.

“Ordinarily, you may pursue your own interests as freely as any knight-errant. Hunt monsters, subdue bandits, enter tournaments—whatever you please. But I would like you to come and help when I need you. Of course, since you will not be my vassal, it will not be an obligation, and I will pay you appropriately for each task. Like a mercenary.”

Sherin furrowed her brow for a moment, then added,

“No, mercenary sounds far too unpleasant. There is no reason a knight and a princess must be bound only by contract. We would exchange what we need in accordance with our desires... Partners, friends—could we not describe it in those terms? Oh, and I might also call you in to examine and study your physical condition. That benefits us both, does it not?”

Those last words were spoken not in the authoritative, imperious tones of Princess Sherin, but in the voice of Sherry, the curious young mage.

The guards behind her spoke up in horror.

“Your Highness!”

“Surely calling a mere Altoan your friend is—”

“Quiet.”

Sherin pressed a forefinger to her lips to silence the guards, then smiled brightly at Shan and Roden.

Under that proposal, Shan truly bore no burden at all. He could enjoy the freedom of a knight-errant while helping the princess without fully joining her faction. It was practically the same as leaving her with all the burdens while taking only the benefits for himself. Of course, if Sherin failed to become queen, his dream would forever remain a dream, but at least he could avoid being dragged down to rock bottom with her.

Shan and Roden looked at each other, then nodded in unison.

* * *

In the drawing room of the Wievers mansion, Shan knelt on one knee before Sherin. Borrowing a sword from one of the knights behind her, the princess tapped each of his shoulders once.

“In the name of the Goddess who watches over all things, and of House Hasra, the lawful rulers of Pendia, I, Sherin Giselle Aste Hasra, hereby confer knighthood upon Shan the Altoan.”

It was an exceedingly modest investiture, attended by only five people. Even so, the atmosphere was utterly solemn.

“Henceforth, you need kneel before none save the divine, your sovereign, and your liege. Nobles wishing to punish you must petition for a formal trial. Along with the title of Sir, you are granted the right to wear full plate armor, priority in the purchase of warhorses, the right to collect taxes in your own domain, and the right to challenge anyone who insults you to a duel.”

In the Arman Alliance, being a knight meant more than simply belonging to a privileged class of warriors. After all, the first knight, Emperor Baren, founder of the Arman Empire, was known as the Knight King and the Goddess’s first consort. Knights, his successors, were the swords and shields of sovereigns and the guardians of the faith of the Goddess, entitled to all manner of privileges.

Having listed the rights Shan could now enjoy, Sherin offered a final exhortation.

“Shan, knight, do not abuse your sacred authority. Perform only deeds that bring no shame upon the Goddess’s name. Respect king and noble, Goddess and clergy, and defend humanity against foreign foes and monsters.”

Now that Princess Sherin had granted Shan knighthood, no one—not even the bedridden king—could strip him of it. Disregarding his rights simply because he was Altoan would be taken as an affront to the royal house and the Church.

When the declaration ended, Shan cautiously raised his head and asked,

“... Is that all?”

“Would you prefer a grand investiture with a great crowd and speeches that drone on for dozens of minutes? I am too busy for that at present, but if you truly wish it, I shall find some time soon.”

“I was more concerned whether it is valid when done this way.”

Compared with what he had imagined, and what he had seen and heard, it was so simple as to seem perfunctory. He had no particular interest in empty ceremony, but he could not help wondering whether this would count as a proper investiture.

“There is no procedural issue. As a princess of Pendia, I have the authority to confer knighthood, and there are two knights behind me to serve as witnesses. There are administrative matters to handle separately, of course, but I shall take care of those. You need only think about what design you want on your house’s banner.”

Returning the sword used in the investiture to her guard, Sherin said,

“Congratulations, Sir Shan. The first Altoan knight in history.”

Knight. The resonance of that word sank deep into Shan. When he had heard Count Shedil’s words, it had seemed a goal so lofty as to be utterly beyond his reach. To think he could obtain it so easily...

No, on reflection, calling it easy was misleading. It was only because he had defeated a cockatrice in single combat—a feat rarely found even in history books—that he had been able to so much as speak with the princess.

Of the hundreds of knights currently in Pendia, would even twenty have survived hunting a cockatrice or a monster of comparable strength? Had Shan not been Altoan, he would have been knighted long ago and received even greater honors besides.

“Come to think of it, you ought to have a surname by now. Have you anything in mind?”

“Not yet.”

In truth, commoners’ surnames were simply names they chose for themselves and passed down, so he could have adopted one long ago if he wished. He had merely refrained because nothing had felt quite right. He had therefore suggested simply using Roden’s family name, Wievers, but unfortunately been turned down. Someone destined for great achievements should not have a surname slapped on him so carelessly, he had been told.

Delighted by Shan’s answer, Sherin said,

“Then may I choose one for you? As it happens, I already had something in mind.”

Wondering whether this too might carry some political significance, Shan glanced to his side. When Roden nodded, he assented.

“I would gratefully accept one, Your Highness.”

“Barendil. In the old tongue, it means ‘the place beside Baren.’ Interpreted as it would have been in those days, it could also mean... ‘one who is like Baren.’”

An Altoan using the name of Emperor Baren—the first and strongest knight, the idol of all Westerners, and the ancestor of the five royal houses? It was not difficult to imagine the considerable resentment it would provoke.

But Sherin smiled brightly, as though such matters were no concern of hers.

“Yes, it is a grand name. But to fulfill your wish, you will likely need to perform deeds worthy of it. Then no one will consider it arrogant.”

If Shan truly accomplished feats comparable to Emperor Baren’s, the significance of that surname would become all the greater. Besides, as Sherin had said before, anyone who would hate him for it probably hated him already.

“I will strive to live up to your expectations, Your Highness.”

Shan of House Barendil remained standing and offered a slight bow instead of kneeling as before. For now, as a knight-errant, he would kneel only before the Goddess and the king of Pendia.

* * *

“Are you truly content to leave matters like this, Your Highness?”

On the way back, Sherin glanced around at the voice behind her. Her guard knights wore worried expressions.

“You will face tremendous criticism. Even some lords who privately supported you, though they could not show it openly, will turn their backs on you. You have accepted all those losses to knight him, yet you will not bind him through vassalage?”

“I doubt a mere Altoan understands concepts like gratitude or good faith. Even now, you could annul the investiture and impose new conditions...”

Neither suggested that Shan should not be knighted at all. They agreed that his strength was necessary for the great cause the princess envisioned. Having experienced it firsthand, they could not fail to know how powerful that devilish Altoan boy was.

“Annul the investiture? That is the funniest joke you have made all year. What fool would trust a ruler who goes back on her word?”

Having firmly silenced them both, Sherin walked on. Her eyes faced forward, but her mind was filled with their earlier conversation.

‘Yes, this is the best way.’

Ever since learning of Shan the Altoan’s existence, Sherin had consistently devoted part of her intelligence resources to him. How he had been born, how he had grown up, what he wanted, what pleased him, what he disliked...

Even a girl hopelessly in love might not have studied one person so deeply. After analysis upon analysis—which had included an unintended punch and a bloody nose—she had finally been able, today, to draw a complete blueprint of the person named Shan.

‘A child starved for affection and kindness. He has had some basic social ethics instilled in him, but has not internalized them through experience. He cannot turn his back on the weak who suffer persecution. He strongly resists authority and is particularly sensitive to attacks on his own people.’

Binding such a person with a contract meant little. If he considered something wrong or did not want to do it, he would refuse without hesitation, even if defying the order amounted to social suicide. That was why she had deliberately begun with the steep demand of fifteen years, then cast it aside. Naturally, the full weight of that concession would become a debt of gratitude.

Many people remembered grudges and forgot favors, of course, but Sherin was certain that if she gave generously first, Shan would never pretend not to notice. This was less faith in Shan as a person than faith in her own analytical abilities.

If she controlled Shan through an oath of vassalage, he would abandon his liege and flee without hesitation in a crisis. But if she bound him thoroughly with affection, he would never be able to stand by and watch her fall to ruin.

It was a ridiculously low price to pay for acquiring the sharpest sword in the world, a sword those two blind fools had left lying about.

* * *

“Congratulations, Sir Shan!”

“No, please, sir. Don’t do that.”

When the negotiations were over and Kalion heard the outcome, he immediately bowed deeply to Shan and cried out, just as he had once done to nobles’ attendants and knights. Flustered, Shan hurried to straighten him up. Beside them, Roden stared at his father in disbelief.

“Father...”

“Do not look at me like that. From now on, when others are present, you must treat him as someone to be respected, not as a friend. You would do well to practice beforehand.”

He was right. The moment Shan became a knight, his social standing had risen beyond anything Roden could compare to. If the two now behaved informally in public, people would think Roden dared to make light of a knight. A lowly merchant, looking down on a duly invested knight, Altoan or not! There was no need to explain how seriously a challenge to rank was taken in such a rigidly stratified society.

“I should have asked the princess to knight you too while she was here.”

Shan sighed, but Roden shook his head.

“I told you. You might be able to, but I absolutely cannot. Not until I fix this damned condition.”

Refusing to knight Altoans was, after all, merely an unwritten rule among the nobility. As Sir Darkal’s lack of any particular aversion demonstrated, if Shan displayed superior ability as a knight, he could earn ample respect, at least from his fellow knights.

But a knight who froze in fear before a blade was an even less tolerable existence than an Altoan knight. It meant being a cripple who failed to meet the most basic qualification of knighthood: being one who fought. If Roden were knighted and that fact became known, he would not only be despised himself; Shan, knighted alongside him, would inevitably have his qualifications questioned too.

After that commotion, the three moved on to discussing a coat of arms for the newly founded House Barendil. This was settled more quickly than expected, since Shan had already given it some thought.

“A green eye, then.”

“I thought it would be the best symbol to represent me.”

“True enough. Once someone sees it, they can never forget it.”

The coat of arms depicted a green eye radiating a soft glow against a black field. The black field represented night and darkness, while the glowing green eye was modeled directly on Shan’s own. Houses with longer histories and ties to many other families had far more complex arms, but this was quite enough for a new knightly house.

They took their rough sketch to a skilled painter, who produced a respectable coat of arms in just one day. It was fine enough that both Roden and Shan nodded in satisfaction at the finished work.

“That turned out splendidly! This should do nicely.”

“So we embroider this on the banner and the garment worn over my armor?”

“Exactly. It lets everyone know who you are, even with your helmet on.”

Of course, anyone who truly encountered Shan in the dark would recognize him from his glowing green eyes alone. Watching the battle in the Demonlands sewers had taught Roden all too keenly how terrifying it was to face them. In time, those who faced the arms of House Barendil would likely learn that too.

“Now you’ll be ready as soon as your fitted plate armor is finished.”

“Exactly. I hope we can have it ready in time...”

They were speaking of the crowning event of knighthood.

The joust.

Before long, the capital would host that supremely elegant yet brutal tournament, where knights from far and wide came to seek renown—and many suffered grave injuries or even death.