A woman with a build similar to a gaunt man whose face still bore a vivid scar and sunken cheeks. Kraiss observed the pair and asked,
"What did you say your name was?"
Enkrid answered that.
"Edin Molsen."
"His appearance has changed a little."
Not a little—quite a lot. He had taken off the mask he'd worn when he acted like a thug, and the period where he'd raged to save his younger sister had passed.
Edin answered Enkrid's summons, but he foresaw many hurdles. Would others welcome him? Hardly.
'If I'm rejected here…'
Should he prove himself? For what? For the sake of the man who trusted him?
'Or should I recognize my place and step back?'
Molsen—does the rebel's son even have the right to be here?
His feelings were complicated. Perhaps it would have been right to live in hiding. If he had not come out into the world, this sort of commotion would not have arisen.
'But.'
Is he supposed to merely go on living? To toss aside any reason or meaning to life? To look away even when there is something he can do?
His eyes met his sister's. Brown eyes with a flush of red blinked as they looked at him.
'If I'm allowed to dream…'
If a last chance were to fall into his hands.
It wasn't simply the desire to flaunt his ability. Having left his father, what could the man named Edin do? It was a challenge toward that.
"Are you the son of that Count Molsen?"
A messenger from Naurillia stood here as well. He asked and looked at Edin. The surprise on his face was plain as day. His eyes had gone wide.
The civil war Count Molsen had raised was an event that would remain in Naurillia's history for generations.
The messenger did not know that the count had been enthralled by a demon of the Demon Realm, but he knew what the man had done.
He had tried to depose the queen and usurp the rightful king's throne.
Kraiss looked at his captain and asked with his eyes.
What is this, and what are you thinking?
From the first moment Enkrid had seen Edin until now, his thoughts hadn't particularly changed. No—apart from Edin, he'd always thought the same way.
He cheers the child whose dream is to be an herbalist. He cheers the woman whose dream is to become an elixir.
He merely cheers the man who wants to use his ability to save people.
The messenger rolled his eyes. From how things were going, it seemed something might explode any moment.
"Prepare to conquer the continent, Kraiss."
Enkrid said it. The messenger couldn't even swallow.
What? Treason? Is that why he brought the rebel's son?
Think for a moment and it makes no sense. Plotting rebellion and bringing in a rebel's son are two separate matters.
Besides, why say it now of all times?
For a moment the messenger's head froze and wouldn't work properly. Still, one thing was certain.
'If he says this in front of me…'
Isn't it the same as saying he'll take my head shortly?
"Conquer the continent? Ah, that talk."
Kraiss's tone didn't change, as if it were nothing. With war against the South right before their noses, what was so great about taking in one rebel's son?
Besides, it was Enkrid's doing. He would have his reasons. He'd even stated part of those reasons just now.
"If that's what you want, then yes, let's do that."
Kraiss nodded.
Parsing the meaning of the exchange, Enkrid had told him to prepare a place for Edin, and Kraiss had answered that he understood.
Edin understood, his sister understood, and most others simply nodded as if that were that.
Everyone present here was used to Enkrid's way of speaking.
Setting aside a few who had no interest in this matter—like the Dragonkin or Ragna—most had grasped the gist.
The messenger, of course, had not. He didn't even dare breathe deeply as he watched for cues.
"Where do we start conquering the continent?"
With good timing, Rem spoke from behind the messenger. The messenger felt his heart plummet. It was a joke, of course, but if this went on, his heart might stop without anyone laying a hand on him.
Kraiss looked at Rem, then casually introduced the man standing before him and said,
"Ah, His Majesty's messenger. I've heard everything. You can go back and relay what you've just heard."
Cold sweat soaked the messenger's back. He barely managed to open his mouth and ask back,
"...Sir?"
"Just say that we're taking Edin Molsen into the Border Guard now."
With difficulty, the messenger lifted his feet and stepped outside.
"His Majesty wishes you to depart for the South as soon as preparations are complete."
Even so, he said what needed saying. He turned his head halfway at the door to relay it. His forehead was slick with sweat.
Enkrid thought Crang had at least picked a proper messenger. If there was a flaw, it was that the man's gall was a touch small.
Naturally, among a pack of mad knights, few souls could hear jokes like these and remain unruffled.
Watching from the side, Edin was as surprised as the messenger. Everything went smoothly. Enkrid decided, and the rest followed.
It was similar to, yet different from, the time when his father had overseen the house.
Back then, once his father decided, all followed his decision. No—had to follow.
'If you want to live.'
If you want to live, fight. Edin, do I have to take in a wretch who can't even fight, even before he's my son?
Memory becomes pain, and pain becomes torment. Edin endured all of it and came here.
If he had intended to forget his father and live, he would never have come out of hiding in the first place.
Enkrid was unlike his father. When he spoke, everyone naturally followed.
"Then shall we do a simple test? What's the very first thing you'll do?"
Kraiss was harsh. Without telling him a single thing about the city's situation, he asked that out of the blue.
Abnaier quietly watched and thought to himself.
'So he's not entirely pleased, then.'
Kraiss knew how to handle people. Even setting himself aside, you could tell by how he treated the attendants under him. Kraiss's greatest forte was assigning work suited to a person's capability.
Was asking this man such a question now meant to break his spirit?
Edin blinked a few times, then answered. However things went, if opportunity had come, he had to seize it. That was why he stood here.
"First, arrange a meeting with the mayor of the trade city."
"I asked what you would do first."
"It takes too long to explain in words."
"Isn't the ability to make that long thing short and persuasive also a skill?"
Edin looked into Kraiss's large eyes. Somehow those eyeballs looked about as crazy as that fellow Enkrid's.
"Right now the Border Guard lacks three things."
Edin hooked his right thumb around his pinky and raised his index, middle, and ring fingers as he spoke.
"First, crime. Second, forbearance. Third, leeway."
Enkrid tilted his head. Rem pursed his lips into a round 'ooh,' intrigued, and watched. Before they knew it, the whole mad order of knights had gathered.
Once the messenger had come and they'd heard talk of war and all that, their blood ran hot and they couldn't sit still.
Jaxon shot Edin a glance and let it go; Audin smiled.
Ragna and Pel were fighters by nature. They had no interest in administration. They let what Edin had thrown out go in one ear and out the other. Lawford, having come up through a knightly order, had gathered varied experience and learned.
But since he had experienced most of it within parts of an army or order, he judged the city's state by the armament of the Border Guard's standing troops.
'If they weren't wealthy, they couldn't maintain a standing force like this.'
Their numbers were large, and even the training equipment was proper.
Would even the royal household guard enjoy such luxury?
No—at least a squire's level would be needed… to receive this treatment.
In the mercenary world it was common talk that the Border Guard's standing forces drew generous pay and solid equipment.
'Of course, their training is so grueling that many run away.'
You could understand those who fled. Those with a little talent became ordinary, and those who had made a name in the city learned humility.
'That's the Border Guard for you.'
And it wasn't just one rumor. In fact, it was rooted in truth. There were many fights—many battles.
The Border Guard had fought a great deal. Just recently the Salamander had awakened, and a cabal of mages had taken a run at them.
They had even wiped out the Demon Sanctuary Church that had emerged on the continent; it was only natural they'd be treated as that group's archenemy.
'That means the dangers they must face are that much greater.'
So went the mercenary world's view. Lawford reined in his wandering thoughts.
Whatever the case, most people knew the Border Guard's wealth. Then what did it mean to say they lacked leeway? And what was forbearance supposed to mean?
"If you spend as much as you earn to maintain the army, then you need to earn more."
Edin said it. Was it a calculated line? Probably not. But it was exactly the sort of line that fit neatly into Kraiss's heart.
"Kin Baisar opened a dress shop and a tearoom in Lockfried, and that tearoom became a place where all sorts of talk passes. That library of Vanessa's was impressive too."
From here, even Enkrid only understood about half. That was how condensed the talk was. Why suddenly bring up Baisar's tearoom here, and why Vanessa's library?
"The Border Guard has three things."
Kraiss picked up Edin's words. He raised three fingers just as Edin had and said,
"Public order, force, and location."
Edin was discussing the direction the city of the Border Guard should take. In short, he was saying to expand businesses they didn't have.
The easiest line would be salons or exhibitions and the like.
Why is this possible? Crang had said it.
From the standpoint of Naurillia as the base point, the Border Guard sat to the east—but put another way:
'A city that has the Empire above it, touches the East, and opens to the West by way of the Safe Road and the Stone Road.'
The Border Guard was a place where the Empire's hawks came aiming for Enkrid, and at the same time he had ties with the king of the East, and was even friends with the pope of Legion.
Is that all? People of House Zaun came and went now and then; routes had opened to the trade city and the West as well.
On top of that, the solid public order that made crime difficult gave those living in this city a sense of stability, and the existence of the mad order of knights was a symbol of the force that protected the city.
Edin judged that the Border Guard possessed every condition for soft power to take root.
Did Kraiss not already know this?
Up to now, his hands and feet had been too busy, so he'd left it. And now he had gained hands and feet. Hands and feet that thought and moved on their own.
The talk of conquering the continent was half joke and half earnest.
The earnest half was to influence the continent by means of culture.
'Culture.'
You could call it art.
If painting, architecture, crafts, and music flourished, the city called the Border Guard would grow wealthier. If they wanted to be a bit greedier here—
'Take the power the trade city holds, too.'
All of this rested on the foundation of a city that had become self-reliant by force of arms.
Edin was inwardly surprised—because Kraiss had understood everything he said.
The salon Kraiss dreamed of was not simply a place to drink and chatter. It was a place where you listened to music and discussed paintings, where architecture and crafts took their place.
'Is this a dream born thanks to the captain?'
It was.
If Enkrid truly brought an end to the war as he said, then in the next era these things would blossom.
An age of art would come.
That was how he saw it. It was just that for now, they didn't have much leeway for it.
"It's hard to discuss this without the trade city. We give them opportunities as well and prosper together."
The Border Guard was a hegemon. It held the force to swallow the surrounding cities without trouble. Edin was saying not to flaunt that force, but to live together.
"In the end, instead of a fight where we kill and are killed, we bind ourselves together and make it so we live together."
Enkrid's gaze fixed on Edin. This was something he hadn't even thought to hear. His dream touched Enkrid's own.
If Enkrid walked his path with the sword, Edin walked a different path.
He saw a way for people to be bound together by administration and politics and live.
An adult had pried apart two fighting children by force. When the adult looked away, the two children would fight again at once. Therefore, you teach the children coexistence so they won't fight. Kraiss nodded and said,
"Pass."
Edin felt that this man and that man spoke in similar tones. Enkrid looked straight at Edin and said,
"If you want to live, fight, Edin. If you give up now, it won't end with just you dying."
If you want to live, fight; if you start, see it through to the end.
Among the things he'd learned from his father, it was the only line Edin had engraved on his heart.
'Of the things my father said, at least this much was right.'
Edin was the rebel's son who had forgotten his own name. He set his left forearm beneath his chest and bowed his head. It was a noble's salute.
"I will do so, my lord."
Since the order had gathered anyway, Enkrid at once declared that he would depart for the South.
"The city will be guarded by the standing forces."
Kraiss had already given the word and provided horses. In less than half a day, preparations were complete.
The next day Enkrid and the order departed for the South, and while they moved, the messenger who had left the Border Guard had an audience with the king.
"Your Majesty, Count Molsen's son is..."
When the messenger even brought up conquering the continent, Crang laughed loudly. He guffawed until he had tears in his eyes.
"He's dead serious about messing with people. Good work."
The king wasn't worried at all. The messenger had come bearing doubt as well. If necessary, taking one head would be nothing—yet he let him go?
"Taking in the son of Count Molsen will put you at a political disadvantage."
Marcus Baisar spoke in his capacity as adviser.
"You think that brat gives a damn about political jockeying?"
"No."
"If we win the war with the South, there's plenty of time to worry then."
War was at the doorstep. Crang snapped his cloak and strode out.
"Summon the Royal Guard."
Marcus bowed his head and obeyed the king's command.
Even if he could not go to the front lines himself, he had no intention of sitting still and watching.
Crang was that sort of king.