“I-I'm out.”

“What? You bastard, are you committing treason?”

“It's not treason... What miraculous trick have we got up our sleeves that'll let us beat the Green-Eyed Knight?”

“He's only one man.”

“That one man has already torn twelve men apart! What difference will sixteen make?”

“Have you no pride as a gate guard? Aren't you ashamed before our dead comrades?!”

“Keep all the pride you like, old man. I want to live.”

The soldiers were split exactly down the middle. Half insisted they still had a duty to fulfill; the other half backed away, saying there was no need to risk their lives against the renowned Shan Barendil.

Watching them, Shan realized anew that Conrad had yet to gain full control of the capital's troops. The lords and knights under his command, and the retainers and mercenaries they had brought, might be another matter, but to the capital's guards he was still merely one of the princes. Had the king been alive and well, they would at least have made a show of stopping Shan, if only out of fear of punishment afterward.

“Fine. Anyone who doesn't want to fight, get out of the way. I'll only kill those who still do.”

As Shan spoke and took a step forward, the remaining eight finally dropped their weapons as well. Even all sixteen attacking together might not have won. They had enough sense to understand that charging in after half their number had given up would be nothing but a pointless death.

“Ugh...”

As they walked along the wall at Shan's direction, several broke into sobs at the sight of their comrades' bodies scattered about. As fellow gate guards, some of them must have been close.

Watching them, Shan briefly wondered whether he could have talked his way through from the start.

'No. That would never have worked.'

If he had tried, the guards would have taken it as a sign of weakness, thinking he couldn't beat them. They would have joined forces with their comrades and tried to overwhelm him with nearly thirty men. Facing that many at once without any armor, he might have suffered a serious injury. Had he been alone, perhaps he could have risked it, but not with others depending on him.

Once the disarmed guards had withdrawn out of sight, the Wievers household hurried out of hiding without even waiting for a signal. Sherin, who had been secretly watching through a spider, had led them over.

“Let's get out. Quickly.”

“You really did open the gate all by yourself...”

Sherin gazed at the bodies strewn around the gate as though she could hardly believe it, even after witnessing it herself. When she had first heard the plan, she had objected that breaking through a gate guarded by dozens of soldiers without armor was dangerous even for Shan. Now, seeing his overwhelming prowess, she knew she had been wrong.

Suddenly, a thought made her heart ache. If Shan had stayed in the capital instead of joining the ogre expedition, might they have escaped safely without Kagon dying—or even mediated the clash between the two princes...?

While she gathered up those bitter imaginings, the others collected the weapons the guards had left behind and fastened them at one another's waists. They were heading into the wilderness, where monsters might attack at any moment.

Fortunately, leaving the city did not require throwing open the great gate, wide enough for ten people to walk shoulder to shoulder. Cities this large always had a small wicket beside the main gate, usually barred from within.

They unbarred it and filed out one at a time. Shan, guarding the rear, was last through. Turning his head, he saw the slums and plains stretching into the distance beyond Hasra's walls.

“Whew.”

“It's dark out here. Feels like something could jump out any moment.”

Unlike Shan and Sherin, relieved to have finally escaped the capital, the servants looked anxious. The area around Hasra might be relatively safe, but this was still Pendia, the land of monsters. Tata, who had traveled widely as Kalion's representative, was one thing; the others had spent their entire lives within the safety of the capital's walls. They could hardly help being afraid.

“For now, we'll head straight east. If we walk until around dawn, we should reach a fairly large village. We'll rest there and find a priest to treat Master Kalion.”

Shan explained the next stage of their journey to Sherin and the others. The village he meant was one he and Roden always stopped at when traveling between the capital and Shedil. In other words, if they stayed there, they stood a good chance of meeting Roden on his way back.

As they walked east of Hasra, Shan cupped his hands around his mouth and called out.

“Arwin!”

His voice carried across the dark fields. A little later, everyone looked startled at the sound of approaching hoofbeats. Arwin emerged from the darkness in her barding and came toward Shan.

“You waited for me! Thank y—oof!”

Shan opened his arms to welcome her, only to be knocked to the ground by her armored head ramming his chest. Arwin snorted and stamped furiously, voicing her displeasure with hooves crusted black with dried blood.

“Sorry. I'm a little late, aren't I? I did try to get back as fast as I could. Please forgive me.”

Like a man coaxing a sulking lover, Shan showered her with flattery and scratched the underside of her neck, her favorite spot. Only after a good long while did Arwin finally forgive him with a snort that seemed to say, “Don't do it again.”

His sigh of relief was short-lived. He noticed Sherin watching him with a peculiar expression.

“What's wrong?”

“Mm, nothing. Just...”

Sherin had been about to say he acted as though he were soothing a person rather than a horse, but held her tongue, afraid it would sound like a sneer. She couldn't quite explain why... but his affectionate manner toward Arwin bothered her for no good reason.

“You're close to your horse.”

“They do call them a knight's partner.”

As he answered, Shan retrieved the weapons and armor he had left on Arwin's back and began putting them on. With a personal attendant's help, he donned his plate armor without difficulty.

“Whew...”

The armor had felt terribly awkward when he first wore it. Now it reassured him instead.

Armed like this, he would not have feared fifty enemies like the guards he had just fought, let alone thirty. Once their numbers reached the hundreds, though, stamina alone would make things troublesome.

Fortunately, they could now load much of their baggage onto Arwin, considerably easing everyone's burden. The four men would take turns carrying Kalion.

Shan gazed across the dark fields with his glowing eyes and gauged their pace. At this rate, they ought to reach the village in roughly five or six hours. Of course, unused to such a forced march, the others would need a few rests along the way...

“Ah...”

As he considered their journey, he heard a sigh beside him. Sherin, walking with him at the head of the group, looked up at the sky, then turned to him.

“Oh, sorry... I was just wondering what will become of this country.”

As befitted royalty, she seemed to have a great deal on her mind on a much larger scale. Unlike Shan, who would be content as long as he and those around him—and, a little more broadly, his fellow Altoans—could live well and never go hungry.

Shan glanced at the servants following behind them and asked quietly,

“You'll be going to Pales's domain now, won't you?”

“Yes. Now that it's come to this, I have no choice but to use my uncle's domain as a base and raise an army.”

The moment she failed to prevent the clash between the princes, all the grand strategies Sherin had envisioned had effectively shattered. An age had come when force alone would decide everything. And if she chose, Sherin had a way to obtain that force.

With the techniques for compressing and dividing magic stones that she alone possessed, Count Pales could soon command a formidable fighting force. Of course, the fatal weakness of lacking enough capable knights remained...

“What are you going to do?”

“First I'll meet up with Roden and discuss—wait.”

“Hm?”

“Everyone, halt!”

Everyone following behind stopped at his command. Shan quickly lay down and pressed his ear to the ground, then rose.

“Someone's following us. Horsemen. Probably three or four.”

“Horsemen...!”

There was no escaping mounted pursuers on foot. Shan immediately unloaded Arwin and climbed into the saddle, speaking to Sherin.

“Prin—big sister Rin, take everyone ahead. Just keep following the road.”

“All right.”

After Shan, Sherin was the strongest person in their party. The age of magic might have waned, but great mages of her caliber were still rare. She nodded, as if promising to live up to his expectations.

* * *

Barely a dozen seconds after setting Arwin in motion, Shan spotted figures approaching in the distance. Three horsemen, each carrying a torch... Judging by their attire, only the man in front was a knight. The two behind him appeared to be squires or merely mounted mercenaries.

'They know who they're chasing, and they only sent one knight?'

For a moment, Shan wondered if Marquis Abel himself had come, but the man's build told him it was at least not that fellow. He could, however, see why his opponent had come alone with such confidence.

He wore the same exquisitely crafted full plate armor Shan had seen when he first met Sherin—a veritable work of art. His warhorse's long legs also gleamed like metal, just as Arwin's did. A Horace warhorse, probably one of Arwin's relatives.

Everything pointed to a royal knight. One of those knighted by the king himself, regarded as the finest warriors in the country...

'Why?'

Knowing who he was only made his pursuit more puzzling. With a conflict against Prince Elvin ahead, surely every warrior of this caliber was precious. Was capturing one escaped Altoan knight worth committing so much? Unless Princess Sherin's presence had been discovered.

While Shan puzzled over it, the royal knight spotted him. Rather than charging straight in, he stopped about thirty meters away.

“Shan Barendil?”

“That's right. And you?”

“A lowborn Altoan dares use Emperor Baren's name. Have you no shame?”

Shan had asked his name and received a personal insult instead. Before he could object, the royal knight raised his visor. A man who looked to be in his mid-to-late twenties spoke with contempt and anger on his face.

“I am Kamad of House Entor. I pledged my lance to Giselle III, and now I serve his eldest legitimate son, Prince Conrad.”

“Did the prince send you to kill me?”

“No. I pursued you of my own accord. I've wanted to kill you for some time, if the opportunity arose.”

Why would a man Shan had never even seen want him dead? Surely not merely because he was an Old Faith believer who despised Altoans? The knight's next words supplied the answer.

“I thought I'd see whether you're really so good that I shouldn't fight you, as my master said.”

“You were Sir Darkal's pupil too?”

“Don't lump me in with you. It disgusts me. You're nothing more than a toy our master made to amuse himself.”

Sir Gowell had once said that some recipients of Sir Darkal's letter might instead grow jealous of Shan or hate him. Apparently, the royal knight before him was one of them. He must have happened to be near the eastern gate, heard that Shan had appeared, and rushed over. No wonder he had arrived far too quickly to have come from the palace.

“Don't worry. The mercenaries beside me are only here to witness your death. A wretched Altoan like you has dared enjoy a reputation far beyond his station. It's time you paid for it.”

Since they shared a master, Shan had hoped to settle matters with words if possible, but the man's manner suggested there was no room for discussion. Still—

“Can I ask one thing?”

“You ask a great deal for a man bound for hell.”

“How did you find me?”

More than a few roads led from Hasra's eastern gate to other towns and villages. Shan wanted to know how the man had followed their exact route. There was no guarantee another pursuer wouldn't use the same method.

Kamad looked as though he considered it a trivial question, but answered surprisingly earnestly.

“Shedil is the only place you'd have to go, so I took the shortest route there. If I hadn't found you, that would simply have been bad luck.”

Shan had no particular intention of returning all the way to Shedil. The man had stumbled on him by sheer dumb luck. When Shan let out a disbelieving laugh, Kamad lowered his visor.

“The night is short. Enough idle chatter.”

“Fine.”

As if communicating without words, the two knights edged sideways, opening the distance between them, then charged at one another simultaneously.

Watching his enemy approach, Shan inwardly marveled.

'Oh...'

True to its Horace breeding, Kamad's horse was large and nimble. It fell short of Arwin, who had reigned as a tyrant over her siblings, but was still vastly superior to ordinary warhorses. Its rider matched it, holding his lance aimed at Shan without the slightest wavering.

As befitted a royal knight, Kamad's lance technique was cleaner than that of anyone Shan had seen. Even compared with Feonil Alten, he was only half a step behind.

'His lance is longer. I'll have to block and counterattack.'

Unlike Shan's lance, shortened somewhat for uses beyond mounted charges, his opponent's was a dedicated cavalry lance over four meters long. The instant Shan caught the first strike on his small shield, light rippled along the lance and its tip exploded.

“Ugh!”

Apparently, his opponent's lance was a magical device as well. Although Shan had caught it squarely in the center, he felt the blast twist his shield out of alignment.

Even as he took the blow, Shan's lance drove unwaveringly toward his opponent's throat. Unlike his strikes in the joust, this one carried a piercing spirit, filled with the resolve to kill.

Yet, astonishingly, Kamad tracked the attack precisely and raised his shield to block it. He had the finest reflexes of any knight Shan had encountered.

“Not bad!”

As they passed one another, Kamad spoke in a voice mingling admiration and mockery.

In an ordinary joust, they would have ridden apart, regrouped, and begun a second pass. This, however, was a fight to the death. Almost simultaneously, they wheeled their horses and closed in, throwing aside their lances and drawing their swords.

Guardian of the East clashed with an unknown sword, likewise enchanted, sending sparks flying.

“Ugh!”

Kamad groaned under the tremendous spirit in Shan's blade and the magic enhancing its cuts.

Even so, the skill and speed with which he parried Shan's snaking strikes were remarkable. This royal knight was certainly the most accomplished opponent Shan had ever fought. Lug had the better physique overall, but Kamad's reflexes were far superior.

His handling of horse and weapon also spoke of innate talent honed to its limits through blood and sweat. He was stronger than any knight in the ogre expedition, and probably ranked among the finest royal knights as well.

“Ngh...”

Yet even a warrior of that caliber could scarcely defeat Shan as he was now. Despite his opponent's vastly larger build, Shan overwhelmed him not only in skill and speed, but in strength and force as well. With repeated sounds of rending metal, pieces of Kamad's full plate broke apart.

Following Sir Darkal's old teachings, Shan steadily bore down on him, preempting every option available to his opponent until Kamad's breathing grew ragged.

Meanwhile, the two Horace warhorses obeyed their riders, moving back and forth, sometimes sideways, repeatedly opening and closing the gap. When Arwin bared her teeth and lunged to bite with a savage expression, Kamad's mount recoiled in fear. Had its barding not covered even its head without a gap, she would surely have sunk her teeth into it.

The duel that had set the night ablaze ended more anticlimactically than expected. After taking several powerful blows, Kamad lost his composure and swung with far too much spirit behind the strike. Exhaustion naturally followed.

Shan seized the instant his opponent slowed, sliding his blade up along Kamad's sword to thrust through his throat. It was the same movement as the secret technique Sir Darkal had taught him.

“Ghk, urgh.”

With his windpipe pierced clean through, Kamad opened his mouth to speak, but only blood came pouring out. Watching the royal knight fall limply from his horse, Shan turned toward the two horsemen who had accompanied him. They had already been fleeing at full speed toward Hasra from the moment Kamad was stabbed in the throat.

'I'd better... not chase them.'

Fast as Arwin was, their horses were decent enough that catching them would take considerable time. Shan looked down at the fallen Kamad, then swung his sword and cleanly severed his head, ending his life.

After a moment's thought, he quickly cut the armor straps and retrieved the half-ruined plate and weapons. By ancient custom, the victor of a duel between knights claimed the defeated knight's arms. They were rightful spoils.

When he loaded his haul onto Kamad's warhorse, it whinnied mournfully and hung its head. Apparently, it had formed quite a deep bond with its master.

Taking a horse after killing its master felt decidedly strange. Shan hesitated, then took its reins from Arwin's saddle.

“Come on. This way.”

Fortunately, Kamad's warhorse offered no further resistance. Still whinnying sadly, it followed Shan on Arwin. With both horses somewhat tired from the fierce battle, Shan rode down the road at a moderate pace.

Before long, a commotion and a piercing scream reached him from ahead.

“Aaah!”

“Get back!”

Shan dropped the reins he was holding and urgently spurred Arwin forward. Far ahead, beneath the bright moonlight, he saw the Wievers household surrounded by a pack of monsters.