Prologue

A swift, sharp wind blew through the plains.

This was a Northern battlefield. There Almark raced, longsword in hand, clad in the inky armor of the Black Wolf Riders. This time, their aim wasn’t to wipe out the enemy army but to rescue a noble’s captured daughter.

The main unit led by Almark’s father, Reiz, and the unit’s captain Jerus lured the enemy away. Using their distraction as cover, Almark and one other comrade snuck into the enemy’s manor to rescue the girl.

Almark sped through the tall grass, crouched low. The manor loomed ahead; that was where they needed to save the girl. Swiftly but stealthily.

“Almark, wait up,” someone called from behind, sounding extremely casual.

Almark stopped and turned around. Running behind him was another boy, his pudgy body pushing against his armor and his breath coming in gasps.

“Morgan,” Almark said. “Are you all right? Was I going too fast?”

“Sorry…,” Morgan croaked out. Once he’d caught up to Almark, he sank to the ground. “I’m too fat. I can’t run that fast…”

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll go as fast as you’re able.”

Almark reached out his hand and pulled Morgan to his feet.

Morgan looked at him apologetically. “Sorry I’m so heavy.”

“Don’t worry.” Almark smiled. “I’ve had to carry adult mercenaries before. Your weight’s no problem for me.”

Drenched in sweat, Morgan leaned on Almark, and they continued running to the manor. And though he wheezed and muttered complaints, Morgan ran as fast as he reasonably could.

“Just a little longer.” Almark tapped Morgan on the shoulder, seeing the manor was close. “But stay sharp; there’s probably enemies inside.”

“So now we really get started?” Morgan groaned, breathing heavily. He had a shaky grip on an axe that was as round as he was. “I just hope I’ll have enough energy to fight…”

“You’ll be fine,” Almark said encouragingly and held up his sword. “Let’s go.”

“Yeah.”

But just as the pair made to rush toward the manor, the doors were flung open from the inside. A girl in a fancy dress dashed out and cried with joy upon spotting the two boys.

“Almark! Morgan!” She waved her hands widely. “You came to save me!”

“Wendy!” Almark lowered his sword. “Thank goodness you’re safe!”

But just as Wendy began to hurry over, smiling from ear to ear, Almark jolted awake.

Early summer sunlight filtered in through the window. Sitting up in bed, Almark listened to the chirping of the birds as he let his mind process what he’d just dreamed.

That was a strange dream, all right. Me and Morgan were mercenaries out to rescue Wendy.

With a strained smile, he got out of bed for another day of studies. Another peaceful morning dawned over Norkh Island.

Almark lay sprawled in an open field near the elementary division building, basking in the early summer sunlight after class.

“Almark.”

He heard someone call his name and raised a hand. “Hey, Wendy.”

Wendy looked at him and held down her hair to stop it from being whipped by the wind.

“Heading into the woods?” Almark asked calmly.

“Yes.” Wendy was standing on the road between the field and the woods, a basket in her hands. “I haven’t gone in a while. I need to gather herbs.”

“Right. We’ve got healing class tomorrow.”

Wendy smiled. “Want to come along?”

“I’d love to, but…” Almark frowned in disappointment. “I’ve got meditation training with Professor Illmis. And I’m good on herbs; I have some left over from Professor Selia’s garden, so I’ll use those tomorrow.”

“All right.” Wendy nodded. “Good luck with your lesson.”

“Thanks. You take care.”

Almark waved and saw Wendy off, then walked to the magic training area.

A couple of days after the incident where a jaranon kidnapped a first-year, all elementary division students were temporarily forbidden from entering the woods. When they needed herbs for healing arts class, they were instructed to go to the herb garden that belonged to the healing arts instructor Selia instead of picking them from the forest.

Rumors spread that a survey team of teachers and advanced division students would soon be sent into the woods. For a few days, the students in the dorms could see smoke rising from the forest, and they speculated it was from the battles against monsters.

Shortly after that, the ban on entering the woods was lifted. The details of what the search group found there, how many monsters they ran into, or what measures they took was not disclosed to the elementary students. All they were told was that the woods were now safe to enter, although they were discouraged from wandering too deep inside.

With the ban lifted, the elementary students soon returned to their usual busy routines.

Eldo, the boy who’d been snatched by the jaranon, had fainted from exhausting all his mana. He was lucky enough to remember almost nothing from the encounter, which meant he suffered very little emotional trauma. Two days after his abduction, he was back to his classes and once again offered Almark helpful advice alongside Cecily.

Having saved a student from a monster, Almark and Tohrk became the talk of the institute overnight. Their classmates, as well as kids from other classes and grades, all questioned them about what happened. But both were unharmed and remained rather tight-lipped about the affair, neither confirming nor denying whether they’d slain a monster. Disappointed at not hearing any tales of heroism from them, their peers quickly lost interest.

In Almark’s eyes, with his sensibilities as a Northerner, defeating something like a jaranon was an everyday occurrence. In fact, he was a bit embarrassed that the battle had been trickier than he’d anticipated.

Tohrk, meanwhile, didn’t want to admit that he’d worked together with Almark to beat the monster. If anyone found that out and spread the word, they could expect a punch in the face for it.

And so once the ban on the forest was no more, people soon stopped talking about it. Almark spent his days peacefully and busily, working hard to become a mage.

Chapter 1

The Norkh Institute for Magic—the world’s sole training school for mages, located on Norkh Island, a remote isle in the seas south of the Garai Kingdom.

Traditionally, those aspiring to learn magic became apprentices of mages or witches. Norkh Institute, however, had a single instructor tutoring multiple students, systematically teaching magic in a classroom setting.

Children were admitted to the institute based on potential and talent, and they were given an equal chance at education without regard for noble or commoner backgrounds. The duration of the curriculum was three years in the elementary division and three years in the intermediate division, for a total of six years. Many students graduated at that point, having acquired the knowledge to wield magic, but those seeking further heights joined the institute’s advanced division, where they pursued expert knowledge in specific fields of magic.

A few months had passed since Almark joined the institute in the middle of the third year of his class.

Summer was approaching in full force, and the topic that had all the students buzzing was the upcoming summer break. Most would spend this nearly two-month-long vacation back home with their families. They may have been mages in training, but they were still young children living in a boarding school. They were bound to get homesick.

“It’s impressive, you know,” Morgan said, resting his cheek against his hand and staring out the window. “On the first day of summer, everyone’s parents come to pick them up. For the noble kids, sometimes butlers or servants come get them instead.”

He and Almark were in class during a break period. A pleasant breeze blew in through the window.

“Hmm.”

Almark wasn’t terribly interested in the matter. He’d spent a few months in the institute by now, but his studies were limited to meditation. Illmis told him not to rush, and Almark knew that much on his own, but seeing his classmates steadily progress in practical magic classes made him feel like he was spinning his wheels in vain.

By this point, everyone was able to perform stone cleaving on their first try, and their lessons were moving to more advanced magic. Like Norish did with her Wind’s Whispers spell, students were also independently trying their hand at more advanced techniques. The magic Tohrk had displayed during the jaranon incident was very impressive, too.

As he listened to Morgan, Almark noticed he’d drifted into a meditative state. It felt like he was envisioning himself tracing the mana within his body with a finger.

“Almark, are you listening?” Morgan said, pulling Almark out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Um…”

“I just asked, what are you doing for summer vacation? Going home?”

“Home, huh…?” Almark cracked a strained smile. “If I went back north, it’d take me another year to get back to the institute. I don’t even know where my father is right now, so I’ve got no place to go home to.”

“Oh!” Morgan’s face lit up. “So you’re gonna stay in the dorms all summer?!”

“I don’t have much of a choice.”

Almark wasn’t sure why Morgan was so excited. He didn’t see where this conversation was going.

“Great, then I won’t be alone here!”

“Hm?”

“I thought I was the only one in class who doesn’t go back home for summer, so I wasn’t sure what I’d be doing for two months all on my own. I’m glad you’re staying, too.”

Oh, that’s why he’s happy, Almark thought.

“I mean, I’ll have to spend most of my time practicing meditation to catch up to you guys. I won’t be able to hang out every day,” he reminded Morgan, looking a little exasperated.

“Oh, I know. It’s just, the thought that I won’t be alone here makes everything feel different,” Morgan replied, unable to contain his joy.

“Morgan,” Almark began, a bit overwhelmed. “You live in the Garai Kingdom, right? It’s not that far. Why aren’t you going home?”

“Well, my family doesn’t have much money,” Morgan said nonchalantly.

Morgan was the son of a lumberjack from western Garai, but woodcutting wasn’t particularly lucrative work. And though Morgan’s family was by no means wealthy, his admission to the Norkh Institute for Magic was seen as a major honor, and the local governor granted his family a stipend. Not enough that his father wouldn’t need to work, but enough to make the family’s lifestyle improve noticeably. And thanks to that, Morgan’s father had come last summer to take him back home. However…

“I got a new little sister this year, see,” Morgan explained. “My second little sister. So Ma and Pa sent me a letter saying they can’t pick me up this summer. They’ve got another mouth to feed, and someone has to take care of the baby.”

Morgan said he understood that they had no choice, but he was clearly feeling dejected.

“Well, in that case, I’ll hang out with you every so often,” Almark said, patting Morgan on the shoulder. “I’ve got no plans outside of meditation training.”

“What are you two talking about?”

Wendy jumped into their conversation. She shifted her curious gaze from Morgan to Almark and back.

“Oh, just summer vacation. You’re going home on the first day of break, right?” Morgan asked.

“Yep!” Wendy nodded excitedly. “To Father and Mother’s home in Garenthol.”

Garenthol was the capital of the Garai Kingdom.

“Wait, Garenthol?” Almark asked. “I thought the Baherb domain was north of that.”

He’d only recently seen maps of the Garai Kingdom in the library, and the Baherb family’s domain was farther north of the capital.

“Father currently works as a kingdom minister, so he’s been living in the capital. We have our regent managing the domain.”

“Wow.”

It all sounded way beyond Almark’s reach.

“I mean, it makes sense that you’re going home, since you’re a noble and all,” Morgan said, “but I wonder if anyone else is staying at the institute for the summer. Guess everyone is leaving…”

He was still looking for other people to stay and hang out with him.

“Yeah, I think everyone’s going home…,” Wendy said.

“What about Wollis?” Almark asked, when the boy’s name popped into his mind.

“Wollis?” Wendy raised her brows. “I didn’t ask, but he’s probably going home, too… House Mozwill is on the western edge of Garai, so even if he took a white carriage along the king’s highway, it would take him a few days to get there.”

This was the first time Almark had heard Wollis’s surname, Mozwill. There had been plenty of times he could have asked for it, but he’d somehow missed out.

Wollis Mozwill.

Almark had seen the domain of House Mozwill on the map, too. It was a noble family that held a small, distant plot of land. House Mozwill’s prestige and status likely fell short of Tohrk’s House Shifei, to say nothing of Wendy’s House Baherb.

This surprised Almark. He expected Wollis to come from a more prestigious family.

“Aw, so only me and Almark will be staying here, huh? It’s gonna get boring, just the two of us fishing every day.”

Morgan had already decided that he and Almark would be spending their days fishing.

“Uh, fishing?” Almark said. “But I’ve got meditation to do…”

“Wait, you’re staying at the dorms, too, Almark?” Wendy asked.

Almark gave her the same explanation he’d offered Morgan earlier.

“True, home must be too far for you… Oh, in that case!” Wendy clapped, her eyes lighting up like she’d just come up with a great idea. “You two should come to my place! It’s just two days to get to Garenthol. You both can make it, right?”

“Huh? Can we?!” Morgan leaned forward excitedly.

“Sure! I won’t be at home all the time, but schedule permitting, you could probably stay about ten days or—”

“Wow!” Morgan said before Wendy could finish. “This is great, Almark. Let’s go! We gotta do this! We gotta go visit Wendy!”

“Uh, Morgan, I need to practice my meditation, though… Are you listening?”

Morgan was so excited that he didn’t hear a word Almark had said.

“Oh, sorry, Almark. I didn’t take your plans into account, did I?” Wendy said apologetically.

This made Almark realize that Wendy was saying this to be considerate of him. The house of a major noble that served as the minister of a large country like Garai was unlike anything Almark had experienced in his life thus far, so he was curious, of course.

But that curiosity was up against the reality of the fact that he was a third-year elementary student with only a few months of experience, who couldn’t cast a single spell. It felt like he didn’t have the time to play around. The turtle who starts the race late has no choice but to persistently keep trudging along.

“No, it’s not that. I just…,” Almark started to say, only for Morgan to cut him off.

“What are you talking about, Almark? Let’s go! You can meditate all you want on the way there. I’ve never been to Garenthol on my own before. Please!”

“You don’t have to force yourself, Almark.” Wendy shook her head frantically, but there was a distinct wistfulness to her expression. “It was just an idea I came up with on the spot.”

Almark was defenseless against that look on her face.

The headmaster did say to cherish my time with my friends…, Almark thought, putting a convenient spin on Eurog’s words.

“No, Wendy, I didn’t say I wasn’t going. I was just trying to say that I can’t impose on you for ten whole days, but we could stay for five.”

Wendy’s face lit up, and Morgan let out a cheer that echoed through the classroom.

But before the students could begin to enjoy the fun of summer vacation, a great trial stood in their way.

The pre-vacation exams.

Classroom subjects had written exams, while magic and martial arts training had practical exams. The testing period lasted for three days, with poor grades affecting their odds of progressing to the next year in the long run, and supplementary classes in the short term, which of course had considerable influence on their plans for the summer.

Starting ten days prior to the exam, an oppressive, gloomy air had hung over the students, and their nerves would be wound tighter than ever the day before the exam.

One day, before that peak arrived, a tired-looking Morgan tried encouraging Almark, who was similarly exhausted.

“Now listen, Almark, these exams are important. If we’re gonna go to Wendy’s place in the summer, we absolutely, totally, definitely have to get grades good enough to avoid supplementary lessons!”

“…I know that.” Almark looked gloomy. “Never mind all the other subjects. It’s the magic exam that has me nervous…”

“Don’t worry, Almark. It’s all about attitude when it comes to magic!”

“Attitude, huh…?”

While Morgan was offering his wonderfully helpful advice, Leila happened to pass by, her expression as indifferent as ever. She didn’t show any signs of fatigue, which surprised Almark. He called out to her despite himself.

“Wow, Leila, it’s right before the exams, and you don’t look tired at all.”

Leila stopped and glanced at him askance. “…I learned everything for the exams in class. Didn’t you?”

“Not everything…”

“Being tired is on you, then.”

She had no intention to help whatsoever, it seemed. After sending a cold glance their way, Leila walked off.

“Wow, Leila really memorized everything she learned in class?” Almark turned to Morgan, who shook his head, his face pale.

“Don’t be like that, Almark. You can’t just talk to Leila out of the blue! You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Why can’t I?”

“’Cause she’s scary!”

“Huh.”

Almark did think she was kind of standoffish, but not scary. He cocked his head.

“Leila gets good grades, right?”

Morgan nodded. “Well, yeah. On our second-year finals, Wollis scored first place in our whole class, Wendy got fourth, and Leila got fifth.”

“Wow. Class 2 has a lot of smart kids, huh?”

“Sure does,” Morgan said proudly, as if the praise was for him. “I scored fourth lowest, though.”

Almark frowned. “So you’re the one most at risk of getting supplementary classes?”

“Hey, I resent that. Sure, my total score was fourth from the bottom, but I didn’t need to take supplementary classes in any subject. Nelson ranked higher than me, but he still had to take two,” Morgan boasted. “It’s like getting the knack of wind magic. You can keep things flying at low altitude, but they’ll never fall.”

“…I’ll keep that in mind.”

Almark couldn’t help but worry that he wouldn’t get to visit Wendy’s home.

Wendy helped Almark prepare for his exams. It was his first time studying for any kind of test, and he wasn’t sure how to do it, but Wendy offered him advice. Almark felt bad and tried to turn her down, but Wendy insisted that helping him study also helped her. She didn’t seem bothered at all and instead told Almark to say something if he felt she was being pushy.

The only way Almark had to repay her in kind was to give her tips for martial arts class, or to share some knowledge he had about monsters for biology class. They were only set to start learning monster biology in the intermediate division, and so Almark had very little to teach her.

Gazing at Wendy’s pretty lashes as she easily answered his questions, Almark wondered what he could do for her.

“You’re having a hard time focusing today.”

During Illmis’s supplementary lessons after school, the professor called out to Almark shortly after the boy started meditating. Almark twitched and opened his eyes.

“Are you struggling with studying for exams?” Illmis asked; he wasn’t scolding him.

“I am,” Almark answered. “I’ve never taken an exam before…”

“Hmm,” Illmis mused. “It seems to me that’s not the only reason.”

It was as if he’d read Almark’s mind, making Almark jolt again. Almark realized with a hint of resignation that there was no keeping secrets from this man.

“You really do see right through me, Professor. The truth is…”

Almark told Illmis about Wendy. About how she looked over his studies and treated him kindly, and how he couldn’t do anything to repay her for it. But whenever he tried to think of a way, his heart felt heavy.

Illmis raised his brows in surprise at first but listened quietly. Once Almark was done, the professor hmmed again.

“I’m afraid advice like this is outside my wheelhouse, but… Yes, it’s easy to forget it because of how mature you usually are, but you are still just an eleven-year-old boy.”

“…Yes, sir.”

“I’ll put this in the simplest of terms: You’re in love with Wendy.”

“In…love?” Almark looked up at Illmis anxiously. “Professor, this doesn’t really make any sense to me. All this talk of hate and love… It’s never been part of my world until now.”

“Well, if you don’t understand it, you merely need to learn. Just like with magic,” he said. “Don’t be afraid, and observe the truth of these feelings within you. That’s another part of conversing with yourself, and it’s just as important as meditation. You said your heart feels heavy, yes?”

Illmis paused for a moment, then carried on amicably.

“That feeling is important. I want you to commit it to memory. If you’re going to live as a mage, it’s extremely important that you understand what these emotions mean.”

“…It is?” Almark looked up hesitantly, confused.

“You don’t need to understand quite yet. But what you mustn’t forget”—Illmis held up an index finger—“are Wendy’s feelings. You say you’re imposing on her, but I don’t think she feels the slightest bit imposed upon. Never forget that Wendy chooses to do this when she doesn’t have to—it’s because she wants to.”

“She chooses to do it…”

“Let’s assume Wendy was in need of help, and you could help her. You’d be glad to do so, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, of course.”

“And would you consider that as Wendy imposing on you?”

“Not at all.”

“Then isn’t that how Wendy feels?”

“…”

Almark lowered his head in thought.

Illmis cracked a bemused smile. “Like I said, such advice is outside my wheelhouse. I feel that it’s not my place to talk of such matters. So let us put this chatter to an end. A skilled mage knows how to detach themselves from negative emotions, no matter their mental state, so that they may wield magic at all times.”

“Yes, Professor.”

At Illmis’s encouragement, Almark let his thoughts drift away into the silence of meditation.

Some time later, in class, with just a few days before exams…

“So, as I explained beforehand, the world being shaped like this is attributed to two deities of the Median Octet.”

The homeroom teacher of Year 3 Class 2, Fia, was teaching a lesson. As always, she was clad in a bright green cloak and looked over the students with a serene expression.

“Calling this a review might be a bit of a stretch, but do you all remember the name of those two parts of the Octet?”

Oh, here we go again, thought Almark.

He was mostly used to his lessons by now, but world history was the one topic that confused him. Fia’s explanations about the world they lived in clashed with what Almark knew.

The Major Quartet, said to be the world itself.

The Median Octet that established the current state of the world.

The Minor Sixteen that governed over assorted phenomena in the world.

Fia explained the various gods, and yet she never once mentioned the Northern gods Almark knew. She didn’t mention the Hero God Hadika, who sacrificed his own flesh to bring light to the world, nor did she mention proud goddess Rubenik, who perched herself in the farthest skies to guide people.

Sensing his confusion, Fia peered with her chestnut-colored eyes past Almark, fixing on a stocky, surly-looking student.

“Well, Tohrk?” said Fia.

“Right.” Tohrk complied and sluggishly got to his feet. “Eckreunder the Firm and Smiseneph the Lithe.”

Tohrk sounded as surly as he looked, but he answered the question instantly.

“Correct. Thank you.” Fia nodded, then motioned for Tohrk to settle back into his seat. She smiled. “Eckreunder the Firm is said to have created the land and Smiseneph the Lithe to have created the sea. The remaining six deities of the Octet were involved in other aspects of creation, but the Minor Sixteen that grant the world assorted powers also have names. Norish, can you identify three of them?”

“Yes.” Norish rose from her seat and answered cheerfully. “Izmag the Two-Faced, Armedas the Shooting Star, and…”

Lilty was called upon next, and she mentioned the names of three more of the Sixteen without a hitch…except her voice was so small, Fia didn’t hear her, so Norish, her roommate, had to repeat her answer.

“Understood. Good on you for memorizing it, you two.”

Fia’s praise made Norish grin and Lilty sigh in relief. The professor then turned her eyes to one of the boys, who was lazily dangling his feet and staring out the window.

“Can I ask you to name the rest, Nelson?”

“Yes, uh…” Nelson got to his feet, looking guilty. “Izmag the Two-Faced.”

“Goodness.” Fia blinked.

“Nelson!” Norish barked. “We already said that one!”

“Shaddup!” Nelson turned on Norish, red in the face. “You two mentioned all the ones I remember! Why didn’t you say the others instead?”

“Because what parts you remember and forget isn’t my problem.”

“You could’ve at least brought up ones I forgot!”

“I don’t care. At least memorize eight so you remember half of them.”

“I usually remember them all! I just happened to forget right now.”

“What’s the point if you can’t remember them on the spot?!”

“Okay, thank you, you two,” said Fia. “Nelson, the summer exams are right around the corner, so make sure you brush up on this.”

“Sorry…”

Nelson sank to his seat, defeated. But instead of sulking, he instantly stuck his tongue out at Norish, and she stuck hers out at him in retaliation.

“Speaking of names, there is one deity among the Minor Sixteen who doesn’t have a name… Leila, if you’d be so kind?”

“Yes.” Leila got to her feat, her feminine face expressionless and her inky hair swaying. “The Ruler of the Darkness,” she answered concisely.

Her cold, dignified voice made the entire class tense up. Nelson and Norish hung their heads, their faces grim.

“Correct,” Fia said. “It’s unclear if the Ruler of the Darkness ever had a name, or if that name is simply not known to us. And so that god has several colloquial names. Wendy, can you give us one such name?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Wendy lightly rose to her feet. “The Abyssal Lord.”

Abyssal Lord. Those words made Almark look up. He’d heard them somewhere recently.

Wollis, the class representative, glanced at Almark under the shadow of his long blond locks. Noticing this, Almark looked back at him, but Wollis coolly turned his eyes back to Fia.

“Everyone, make sure to review this topic,” the professor said. “I know it’s been getting hot outside recently, so make sure to not work yourselves too hard, though.”

Morgan and Nelson exchanged a look and shook their heads.

That afternoon, after he was done eating lunch at the dining hall, Almark walked across a passage that overlooked the schoolyard.

The North only gets this hot at the height of summer…, he thought, wiping the sweat from the back of his neck.

The dry air and occasional breeze made it a bit less noticeable, but the heat bearing down on them was indeed as hot as Northern summers ever got.

Nelson reproachfully looked up at the sun hanging overhead and stretched his arms. “Ugh, what gives? How come we gotta study for exams when the weather’s this good?”

“Yeah, it’s super nice out,” Morgan agreed, also looking up at the sky. The pudgy boy had already gotten drenched in sweat while he was eating his lunch, and now he was flapping the collar of his robe to fan himself. “Maybe I’ll go to the woods and jump into a stream there…”

“Ooh, good idea.” Nelson turned to Morgan, grinning. “You’re right. Not studying for one day isn’t gonna make much of a difference. Let’s go hang out in the woods. Hey, Almark, come with us.”

“Thanks for the invite, but I’ll have to pass,” Almark said, gently turning down the offer. “I’ve got supplementary lessons with Professor Illmis after school.”

“Oh, right.” Nelson nodded, disappointed, but then he clapped Almark on the shoulder. “But Professor Illmis won’t mind if you miss one day, right?”

“Well, maybe, but…” Almark smiled. “This is my first time taking exams, so I don’t know how much I should or shouldn’t study. There are things I have to do besides Professor Illmis’s lessons.”

“I’m tellin’ you, it’s fine,” Nelson said cheerfully. “Once you start your exams, you’ll see you can make it through one way or another.”

“Nelson, stop it,” Norish cut in, her expression serious. “Almark just joined the institute a short while ago. He has to catch up on everything we learned for two years in just a few months. You’re basically telling him to study two years’ worth of material all at once.”

“Ugh, you’re right.” Nelson hurriedly let go of Almark’s shoulder. “You’ve really got it rough, Almark.”

“Yeah, it’s tough. Wendy helps me out a lot, though.”

Behind him, Wendy smiled at the mention of her name.

“I’m not doing much,” she said. “But Almark really is working hard, Nelson, so let’s try to not get in his way.”

Nelson shrugged. “You’re acting like you’re his mom or something.” He then turned to Morgan, deflated. “Let’s go, Morgan.”

“Actually, I think I’ll pass, too,” Morgan said, looking conflicted.

“What? What’s gotten into you?” Nelson frowned.

“I mean, I thought it over, and there’s something important I wanna do this summer.” Morgan looked between Almark and Wendy. “We can’t afford to take supplementary classes. Yeah. That’s right.”

Almark and Wendy exchanged a glance, and seeing how serious Morgan was, they cracked a smile.

“What’s with you guys? What a waste of a nice day.” Nelson sighed. “Fine, I’ll go alone.”

“I’m not stopping you,” Norish said, looking fed up. “But you’re the type of person who’d find a reason not to study even on a rainy day.”

“Guh.” Nelson gulped. Her comment was right on the mark. “Aw man, I wish I was as smart as Wollis… Oh, speaking of. Hey, Wollis!”

Nelson suddenly looked aside and called out to the student passing them by.

“Mm? Yes?” The class representative stopped and turned around, his cool-looking, handsome face in a smile. “Do you need something?”

“I was just saying that if I was as smart as you, I’d be able to go play in the woods today.”

“Why not go?” Wollis smiled. “No need to hold yourself back. There are things you can learn in the woods, too.”

“You think so?!” Nelson’s face lit up.

“Yeah.” Wollis nodded. “With exams ahead, everyone’s busy studying at the schoolhouse and the dorms, including the new students. You’re probably the only one who’d think to go out to play in the woods. You’ll have the stream all to yourself.”

“O-oh…” Nelson hung his head, looking like all the wind got taken out of his sails. “Yeah, even the new kids are studying.”

“Good thinking, Wollis.” Norish said, impressed. “You’re telling him to go to make sure he doesn’t go.”

“Hm? No, I really do think he should go if he wants to,” Wollis replied, raising a brow. “If he’s willing to take responsibility for his actions, let him do as he pleases.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll study for the exams,” Nelson grumbled. “And I’ll make up for that debt by having fun all summer vacation.”

“What debt, though?” Norish said, visibly exasperated.

Wollis flashed a bemused smile and walked away. But as he passed Almark, he suddenly drew a bit closer.

“Remember to take responsibility for your actions, too,” he said.

“Huh?”

Almark stared at Wollis in surprise. The class representative looked back at him coldly.

“Make a splash, and it’ll cause waves.”

With those mysterious words, Wollis left with a flutter of his beautiful blond hair.

And finally, the exams began.

The first day was the written exams. Almark spent the entire day at his desk, spewing out all the knowledge he had crammed into his head onto the test sheet. He was determined to get a grade he wasn’t ashamed of, both for his sake and for Wendy’s, especially when she’d spared precious time to help him study.

At some point, it felt like smoke might come out of his ears, but Almark was somehow able to fill out most of the sheets for all the subjects.

On the second day, it was time for the practical exams. For healing arts class, they needed to brew a medicine within the allotted time, and for martial arts, they needed to perform a predetermined sequence of moves.

The martial arts instructor Bohen watched Almark perform the sequence with a smile. “It’s like watching a wild wolf trying to imitate a puppy.”

Almark wasn’t sure what to make of that analogy.

On the third day, it was oral exams, where the examiners asked all sorts of questions on topics from magic to general education, and the students had to swiftly answer. If a student seemed at a loss, even a little bit, the instructors would instantly press with more questions, and if the students couldn’t answer after that, they had points deducted. This was to test not just the students’ knowledge but also their quick-wittedness and ability to think on their feet. And this was one field Almark was quite good at.

Last were the practical magic exams. These exams were held in the magic training area. The students waited their turn in the classroom and were called one by one to the grounds. The test’s contents weren’t disclosed to them, and to keep it that way, students that finished the exam were to return to the dorm without passing by the classroom.

Apparently, these exams were quite difficult, and every time, a few students had to take supplementary classes. But whichever way things went, today would be when the three-day exam period would end, and so the students waiting in the classroom were all a mix of nervous and relieved.

Almark, however, was entirely restless as he waited his turn. All he’d practiced so far was meditation, and he couldn’t do any practical magic. He did think he’d learned how to prepare mana within his body, but he had no idea how to put it to use.

He couldn’t imagine what the test would include, but he had no choice. He simply would need to use the mana he’d woven so far to try to perform whatever feat they expected of him. He resolved to take on whatever might come.

“Keep it together, Almark.”

Almark must have been terribly pale in the face, because Morgan called out to him. But then Morgan was called to the exam, and Almark was left alone. Then Wendy was called, and she got to her feet. Right before she left the classroom, she sidled up to Almark.

“Don’t worry. Believe in everything you’ve done so far.”

He was happy to hear her say that, but at the same time, he felt pathetic.

Everything I’ve done…? All I’ve done so far is meditate. I’ve got nothing to believe in here. Meditation really is all I’ve done.

The classroom soon emptied of students, one by one. Being the transfer student, Almark was last in line to be called. Nelson, Norish, and Lilty, who all looked nervous, left the room, followed by Leila and Wollis, who looked perfectly composed.

“Is there any point to you being nervous? It’s not like you can do anything anyway,” Tohrk said, sneering at Almark before departing.

You can’t do anything.

I know that, Almark thought. But I have to do something. I’m not trying to get good grades here, but I’m not going to give up on trying just because I can’t.

And more than anything, he didn’t want to disappoint Wendy. Of course, ideally he wanted to spend time in Wendy’s estate with Morgan, but even more than that, he didn’t want to let her down.

Before he knew it, there were only two people left in class. Almark and Deg.

“It’s just you and me now, Deg,” Almark said casually.

Deg simply smirked and said nothing. He was one of Tohrk’s flunkies who always lurked behind Tohrk with Garain. Almark’s first impression of him was that he was kind of dim-witted and stuck by Tohrk simply because he believed strong people were cool.

But as it turned out, he was one of the most talented students in class when it came to levitation magic, and Almark had seen him use a single fingertip to summon a pebble from quite a distance away.

“You’re amazing, Deg. You’re so good at levitation spells. I’m jealous; I can’t even cast a single spell yet.”

Taking advantage of Deg’s silence, Almark voiced his anxieties. But he soon realized that hearing this right before he took a test probably made Deg anxious. He tried to take back what he’d said, but Deg surprisingly replied with a smile.

“If anything,” he said, “I’m jealous of you, Almark.”

“What?” Almark’s eyes widened in surprise. “Of me?”

Deg grinned. “I mean, it’s like the professor always says: Visible progress isn’t what’s important.”

“Huh…?”

But then Deg was called to attend the exam and got to his feet. “If you ask me, we all feel jealous of you, Almark. Everyone in the whole class. Even Leila and Wollis.”

Deg then left the classroom with that parting remark.

“Everyone’s jealous? Of me?” Almark whispered to himself in confusion.

Almark was still reeling from confusion when his name was called. He got to his feet, terribly nervous, and after bowing his head to the teacher, walked toward the magic training grounds.

They’re jealous of me? Even Leila and Wollis? Why? How? I don’t understand what Deg was talking about… Maybe if I can figure that out, it’ll give me some hint about how to get through this exam. Is that what Deg was trying to say?

But Almark then realized that Deg didn’t know what the exam was about, so he couldn’t have possibly given any clues about it. Which brought Almark back to where he started. Whatever came, he had to do it. Whatever question was posed, he’d need to give it his best shot, whether he could reasonably do it or not. The one thing he wouldn’t do was admit defeat before trying.

And as he arrived at that conclusion, his feet stopped at the entrance to the magic training grounds.

All right.

He took one deep breath. He opened the door and found Illmis standing there in his ashen robes, looking just like he had in every class so far.

“Almark, present,” Almark called out.

Illmis looked at Almark and gave a small, nearly unnoticeable nod. “The last student from Class 2, then. Let’s begin.”

Illmis went to the corner and picked up a palm-sized rock, the same as the ones they used for stone-carving lessons.

Illmis placed it on the floor before Almark and said, “Show me the results of your studies.”

“…”

Almark waited for Illmis to give further instructions, but all he was met with was silence. It seemed Illmis wasn’t going to provide anything else. Almark stared at the stone set before him, rooted in place.

“Show me the results of your studies,” Professor Illmis had said… But there was nothing. The only magic he had produced in class was that giant flame, and that was a failure. All he’d done since was meditate, and maybe look at what his classmates were doing. But he’d never learned any spells he could use on a stone.

Except… Almark paused. I still have to do something. I’d basically be winging it, but better that than doing nothing. What do I do with this stone? What would be the right thing to do?

Illmis had given him no directions. Almark’s mind turned to Deg, whom he’d seen earlier. Deg would lean into his natural talent and effortlessly make the stone levitate.

Next, what Wollis did during stone-carving class came to mind. Wollis would carve beautiful elaborate patterns over this stone. And what would Wendy do? Being good at everything, Wendy would perhaps use the transformation spell they recently learned in class to turn it into a pretty gemstone, or perhaps a living rabbit.

What would Nelson do? Lilty? What would Norish do? They were already done with the test and heading back to the dorms, and he couldn’t turn to them for help. The specialties of his classmates crossed his mind.

And that’s when he realized that he’d spent all these months looking at his classmates’ magic.

Professor Illmis isn’t my only teacher. All of them are.

And that’s when he remembered. There was one spell he’d been taught.

“Close your eyes and take a deep breath. Sense the mana within yourbody. Envision your mana focused at the tip of your staff. Then breathe out sharply and imagine your mana passing through the other side of the stone, and that’s when you take your staff…”

Tohrk’s voice from his first practical magic lesson came to mind.

Right, Tohrk taught me how to do stone cleaving. And I couldn’t do it at the time. I didn’t even chip the stone… But what about now?

He’d spent days practicing, meditating, and weaving his mana. Maybe he could break the stone now. Maybe he’d be able to show some results.

Illmis looked at Almark in silence. Almark gulped.

Stone cleaving. Don’t just try; do it… Steel yourself, Almark…and do it.

The way Tohrk taught him how to do it involved using a staff, but Almark didn’t have a staff right now. But even if he did, he wasn’t used to using magic with a staff anyway, so he could just as well do it as is.

He imagined his fingertips as his staff, holding the image of mana flowing from them and passing through the other side of the stone.

Almark crouched before the stone. Illmis watched him, brows furrowed.

Watch me, Professor. This is the result of my meditation. I’m using what you taught me to perform stone cleaving.

Almark placed his right index finger on the stone’s surface and closed his eyes, sensing the cold, smooth surface of the stone.

He wove his mana. Meditating. Breathing out, he concentrated hard, reflecting on Tohrk’s words.

“Close your eyes and take a deep breath. Sense the mana within your body.”

Remembering each word, he felt the mana in his body start to billow.

“Envision your mana focused at the tip of your staff.”

He focused the flowing mana on one point and felt it gather at his fingertip.

“Then breathe out sharply and imagine your mana passing through the other side of the stone…”

He gathered enough force to split the stone in his fingertip.

Good…

Almark was confident he was successful. All that remained was to trigger the spell. But it was then that a crackle of noise ran through Almark’s state of meditation.

His concentration was disturbed. No, he could instinctively tell that this crackle of noise was his intuition blaring out in alarm. Was this really the right thing to do? Would triggering the magic now be the correct course of action?

Almark wasn’t sure where that anxiety came from. Maybe his past failure made him fearful of triggering the spell. His resolve wavered at the last second.

I decided I’d do this. I said I’d repay Wendy’s kindness…

Wendy. Kind, sweet Wendy; he could see her face in his mind. Even earlier, right before the exam, she had encouraged him. What did she say?

“Don’t worry. Believe in everything you’ve done so far.”

Right, that’s what she told me. Believe in it.

Wendy’s words filled his mind like a flash of light, clearing away the haze hanging in his mind. The anxious premonition lurking in Almark’s heart took tangible form, and at the same time, all the words his classmates had said ahead of the exam flashed in his mind.

“Keep it together, Almark.”

Morgan.

“Is there any point to you being nervous? It’s not like you can do anything anyway.”

Tohrk.

“It’s like the professor always says: Visible progress isn’t what’s important.”

Deg.

All of them said it in different ways, but all pointed to the same thing. They already knew the answer, but Almark was the only one who didn’t. And that answer was within him the whole time.

Almark opened his eyes. His fingers gently let go of the stone, and it slowly sank to the floor. His eyes met Professor Illmis’s pensive gaze. Almark nodded and closed his eyes again.

The professor told him to show the results of his lessons. He never said a word about doing something with this stone. What was the result of his lessons? It was…meditation. To free his heart of all anxiety, to become liberated and clear.

I’ll just do what I can for now.

Almark focused, weaving the mana within his body into form. Thoroughly, carefully, mustering all the advice Illmis had given him. The quality of the mana within him improved and purified so much, even he could feel it.

Almark was stunned. Meditation was capable of this? He’d been so absorbed in it, he forgot he was in the middle of an exam.

“Good. That’s enough.”

Illmis’s voice snapped Almark out of his meditation. He opened his eyes, remembering where he was and what he was doing.

“Stand up.” Illmis watched Almark get to his feet and then said flatly, “I wasn’t sure what you were doing at first.”

Almark’s face flushed with embarrassment. “I’ve never had an exam like this before…” What he said came across as an excuse, and so he appended, “I lost my composure.”

“If you’d tried to cast the stone-cleaving spell there, I’d have considered supplementary classes on meditation for you this summer,” Illmis said with a thin smile.

That was close!

Almark felt his heart speed up. He’d been on the verge of activating it, with the mana nearly spilling from his fingertips.

“At the last second, I remembered what everyone said. To just do what I can. I just kept that in mind.”

“I see,” Illmis said quietly. “Challenges are a part of life. You will encounter hardships with no way of knowing whether you can overcome them, and you will have to stake your life anyway. This exam, however, was not one such case. You needed only display that you can put what you learned in class into practice, not gamble your success on things you weren’t taught.”

“Yes.”

That was what he was on the verge of doing just moments ago.

“You are bright. I believe I told you that already. And bright as you are, you very easily stumble upon what might look like the right answer. Or what superficially looks like the correct answer.”

On the day he failed and produced the Dragon’s Flame spell, Illmis had said something very close to this.

“But thankfully, you are tolerant enough to lend an ear to what others say and are blessed with good friends.”

“I am.”

Yes. This time, it was his friends who saved him.

“Never forget your gratitude toward them.”

“I won’t. Of course I won’t.”

The headmaster told him the same thing. Almark nodded instantly, but Illmis shook his head.

“What I just said wasn’t directed at the Almark standing before me.”

That left Almark confused. Illmis carried on, his face stern.

“They were directed at your future self. At the Almark who will reach new heights not long from now.”

“Professor, I think you’re…”

…thinking too highly of me, he was about to say, but Illmis held up a hand to softly hush him.

“I understand how you feel right now.” His expression then softened. “Your meditation today was exceptional.”

This unexpected praise made Almark’s face light up.

“This is the fruit of your labor. I’m sure you’ve put in tremendous effort. You’ve done well to weave your magic so far in such a brief time.”

“Thank you, Professor!”

And then Illmis gravely declared, “After summer break ends, I will begin teaching you magic. Use your vacation to hone your meditation even further.”

“…Yes, sir!”

These were the words Almark had been waiting for since the day he entered the institute.

Upon returning to his dorm room, Almark was enveloped with a sense of pleasant exhaustion and accomplishment.

I’m finally gonna be taught magic. Feels like I took the long route on this journey.

He thought back to his father’s face for the first time in a while.

Father, I’m going to learn magic. The son of a Northern mercenary will actually become a mage.

It was then that he heard a knock on the door.

“Yes?” he said.

“Almark, what are you doing?” Morgan opened the door and peeked inside. “We have to get to the garden. They’re about to start!”

“Start what?”

“Huh? You don’t know?” Morgan looked surprised.

Nelson peeked in from behind him. “Hey, hurry up already! They’ll get started without us!”

“Oh, right. Come on, Almark, I’ll explain later. Let’s go!”

Confused, Almark left the room at his friends’ urging and hurried down the stairs.

“Aaah, see, no one’s here anymore!” Nelson shouted.

Indeed, normally the dorm would be full of the sound of chattering students at this time of day, but now the place was deserted.

“We’re the last ones left! I told you to hurry!” Nelson spat at Morgan.

“You’re the one who said we should wait for Almark!”

“And you’re the one who overslept and forgot to get him!”

“It’s not my fault! I just finished exams!”

The two continued bickering as they stepped out of the dorm.

“Let’s hurry!” Morgan urged, producing an illumination spell in his hand, but at this hour after the early summer sun had set, the sky still had an afterglow.

“Morgan, that’s just a waste. Put it out!” Nelson chided.

Morgan hurriedly dismissed the flame, and the three of them ran along the trail to the garden, using the afterglow to find their path. It grew dimmer bit by bit, and they arrived at the garden just as it got too dark for them to properly see where they were going.

“Huh?”

Almark’s eyes widened. The garden was full of children—namely all the elementary division children, from the first-years to the third-years. Everyone was smiling and laughing, some of them running around and cheering. It was like some sort of festival.

“Ah, there’s Almark and the others!”

Almark heard Norish’s voice from somewhere in the crowd of students.

“Oh, there’s everyone. Hey, guys!” Morgan waved.

“What kept you three?” Norish demanded.

She motioned for them to come closer, looking more cheerful than usual. The trio approached and found she was standing with Wendy and Lilty.

Wendy waved cheerfully when she saw Almark. “Good work on your exams, Almark!”

“Same to you.” Almark exchanged a smile with Wendy. Now that he was free from the pressure of the exams, he felt like he could smile at her without a care in the world. “Thanks, Wendy. I think I passed, thanks to you.”

“Really? That’s great to hear.” Wendy beamed at him. “But it’s not thanks to me. You’re the one who put in all the effort, Almark.”

“And you’re the one who taught me how to put in that effort.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Wendy giggled.

“By the way, what’s this supposed to be?” Almark asked, glancing around.

“Huh?” Wendy looked baffled. “Morgan and Nelson didn’t tell you?”

“No, they both looked like they were in a hurry.”

Morgan and Nelson were playing around with Norish and Lilty. Even the usually docile Lilty was running around and squealing happily. Almark was taken aback by how everyone seemed much more childish and liberated than usual today. Was this because the exams were behind them and the pressure was off?

“So they didn’t tell you…?” Wendy glanced at Almark and smiled mischievously. “Well, I’m not telling, either!”

“Hey, why not?”

“It’s a secret!” Wendy said in a display of childlike impishness.

Almark was confused.

“Ah, there it is!” someone called out.

Everyone looked up to the sky. Wendy looked up as well with glittering eyes. Morgan and the others did the same, and so Almark hurriedly followed suit.

A ball of light suddenly shot up from deep within the garden.

The ball soared up to the sky, and once it reached its zenith, it popped with a loud noise, producing a flower of light that filled the heavens.

“So pretty!” Wendy called out.

“Fireworks…?” Almark whispered. He’d seen these once in his travels.

“Yes, magic fireworks,” Wendy replied, nodding. “See? There it is again.”

As soon as she said that, another ball of light shot up and bloomed a flower of color in the sky with a satisfying pop. Each time a flower bloomed to life, the students in the garden cheered boisterously.

“Exam period didn’t just end for us in the elementary division,” Wendy said. “It ended for the intermediate and advanced divisions, too. They were all busy with exams, and on the last night when exams end, it’s tradition for our seniors from the advanced division to fire off magic fireworks.”

“Then these fireworks are…”

“Exactly. The advanced division’s dorm is that way, and they’re launching them from there.”

Three balls of light intersected, shooting up into the heavens. Each reached a different height and produced a flower of a different shape and color. The contrast of colors was breathtakingly beautiful.

“That’s amazing,” Almark whispered.

In the Northern lands, Almark saw plenty of magic that hurt people. But this was different. This magic produced smiles, and that made him happy.

“Magic is amazing, Wendy.”

“Hm? What?” Wendy faced him with a grin.

She couldn’t hear him over the cheering, so Almark raised his voice.

“I hope I can use magic like this, too, someday!”

Magic that makes everyone smile. This time, Wendy seemed to hear him.

“Let’s shoot fireworks together when we’re in the advanced division!” she replied.

Wendy seemed to have missed what Almark meant, but seeing her grin, Almark shrugged and decided it didn’t matter. At that moment, he felt fulfilled and happy.

That night, Almark celebrated with his classmates under the light of the fireworks.

The grades of the exams were posted. Almark ranked twenty-fifth out of forty-six. He did well on his written exams but made mistakes boiling the concoction in his potion brewing exam and made some visible mistakes during the practical exam. His score in practical magic was quite low. But despite that, he didn’t need to take supplementary lessons in any subject.

Almark felt that, considering this was his first exam period ever, he did a fine job. Morgan and Nelson also managed to dodge any extra classes this time.

He did get the nagging thought that had Wendy been able to focus on her studies alone, she might have been able to get a higher score. But of course, he never told her that.

A Brief Goodbye

With the tumultuous exam period behind them, summer vacation was at hand.

On the night before summer break, the dorms were clamoring with students engaged in packing their things.

“Almark?”

Almark’s meditation was disturbed by a sudden knock on the door. Almark asked who it was, and Morgan poked his head inside.

“What are you up to?” Morgan asked.

“Meditation practice.”

Morgan shook his head and grinned. “You can do that all you want after tomorrow.” He then motioned for Almark with a hand. “Let’s go.”

“Where to?”

“To everyone’s rooms.”

Almark wasn’t sure what Morgan meant, but he got to his feet and walked to the door anyway.

“Why everyone’s rooms?”

“You’re being pretty cold, Almark.” Morgan frowned. “We won’t be seeing the gang for a while after tomorrow, you know.”

“Oh.” Everything clicked into place. “Yeah, that’s true.”

“Right? So let’s go.”

Morgan cheerfully hurried out of the room, and Almark followed him as he went around to their classmates’ rooms.

They visited Norish and Lilty’s room; Lilty was already done packing, while Norish was struggling to fit all her souvenirs into her bags.

“You two look like you have time on your hands,” Norish said, wiping sweat from her brow. “All done on your end?”

“We’re staying here,” Morgan replied.

“Oh, right.” Norish’s expression clouded over. “Well, I’ll make sure to get you souvenirs.”

“Something tasty would be nice!” Morgan grinned at her. “Are your parents coming to pick you up, Norish?”

“No, tomorrow it’s just my dad. Mom’s a bit too frail to make the trip.” Norish pointed at her two bags, explaining her father would be carrying them.

“And what about you, Lilty? Are your parents coming to pick you up?” Almark asked.

Lilty nodded happily. Almark knew how much she loved her parents, and he imagined she must have been thrilled to see them again.

“…How about you ask your parents for a new handkerchief?” he whispered into her ear.

Lilty blushed and raised her hand in protest, but she looked happy just the same.

“Be careful on your way home,” Morgan told the girls, who waved goodbye and said they’d bring back a gift for him. “Almark, let’s go to Wendy’s room next.”

Morgan jogged down the corridor, humming a little tune.

“Wait up, Morgan!” Almark said, running after him.

When they knocked on the door to Wendy’s room, Wendy’s roommate, a girl from Year 3 Class 1, opened it. The two boys peered inside, and Wendy turned to them, having just finished packing.

“What’s up, you guys?” she asked.

“Just a little dorm inspection, courtesy of the leftovers team,” Morgan declared.

“What does that mean?” Wendy smiled.

Almark noted that Wendy didn’t have as much luggage as Norish did.

“You’re packing light,” he remarked.

“Yeah… Most of my things are at home.”

“No surprise there,” said Morgan. “Who’s picking you up tomorrow?”

“The letter said our butler, Ward, will be coming…but these things end up changing at the last second pretty often.”

“Really?”

“I’ll send you two a letter when I get to Garenthol. I’ll check our plans and tell you when you can come over.”

“We’ll be waiting!” Morgan nodded cheerfully.

Hearing their exchange, Wendy’s roommate spoke up. “Aww, you’re gonna hang out at Wendy’s place? I wish I could come, too.” She sounded envious.

“Please, Karah, you’re going back home, aren’t you?” Wendy said.

Karah shook her head. “We’re just minor nobles from the countryside in Foretta. But the Baherb estate in Garenthol… I’d love to go there.” She sighed wistfully.

“Sorry, but this is a special treat for lonely boys like me and Almark with no one to pick them up or no home to return to. If you’ve got a home to go back to, then that’s where you should go,” Morgan bragged even though what he said was quite pitiful. “Right, Almark?”

“Uh, y-yeah.”

Almark had no choice but to agree.

And so, with Karah pouting at them in disappointment, the boys left the room.

“We’ll be waiting for your letter, Wendy!” Morgan said.

He and Almark waved to Wendy, who nodded.

“Okay, where next?” Morgan wondered aloud as he hurried down the hall.

Almark made to follow, but Wendy stopped him.

“Almark?” she said.

“Hm?” Almark turned around. “What’s up?”

“Um, so…”

“Yes?”

“I think I’ll be leaving tomorrow morning.”

“? Yeah?”

Almark nodded, unsure what Wendy was getting at. For some reason, she hung her head, blushing.

“We won’t see each other for a while, so…I was just wondering if maybe you could come see me off…”

“Hm? Oh, sure, of course. Of course I’ll come,” Almark replied quickly, caught off guard by the sudden request.

Wendy raised her head to hold his gaze. “Really? That’s great!”

Her smile made Almark hang his head bashfully, and that was when Morgan called out to him from down the hall.

“Almark! What are you doing back there? We gotta go see Nelson!”

Almark answered him and then waved goodbye to Wendy. “See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah!”

Wendy watched Almark until he turned the corner.

Nelson was going to spend his vacation training for the martial arts tournament that would be held after summer break, and so he’d packed his training sword into his luggage.

“That’s our first martial arts tournament! I can’t lose to the other classes!” Nelson said enthusiastically.

“Who’s picking you up tomorrow?” Morgan asked.

“My ma. I’m looking forward to it. Haven’t seen her in forever… Oh.” Nelson stopped and stared at his two friends. “Sorry. You guys aren’t going home this summer, right?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Oh, speaking of, you mentioned you’re going to Wendy’s estate, yeah? I don’t like visiting nobles’ homes ’cause it means I have to, like, stand on ceremony and everything. But we’ve got almost two months off school, so maybe it’d be nice for a change. I’ll send a letter asking to come along, too.”

“Yeah, we’ll be waiting for you,” Morgan said.

“This is your first summer break, right?” Nelson asked Almark. “The institute’s gonna be packed, what with everyone getting picked up tomorrow. It’s quite a sight.”

Apparently, the ship that held the students’ chaperones would be docking on the island tomorrow. Some of them were already on Norkh, staying at the local inns.

“Wow,” Almark said, gazing out the window. In the distance, he could see the lights of the town. It’d been a long while since he got off a ship at the docks and set foot in those streets.

Just then, Almark spotted a light moving in the garden. A single light, be it a lantern or a magic spell. It was too far away to make out, but it was moving steadily toward the gates. Who was out and about this late at night?

But the thought lingered in his mind for only so long, because Morgan soon started talking to him.

Early the next morning…

There were no lessons that day, and so Almark was walking around the garden at the time when he’d usually be heading to class. Looking up at the heavens, he thought back to the night sky strewn with magical fireworks on the last day of exams. A new emotion was budding within him, but it was yet to take form. It was still far from reach.

Almark felt that it would take some time for this feeling to take shape. And so he would leave it untouched until the time was right.

He turned on his heel to go back but spotted a figure walking over from the direction of the dorms.

“Leila,” Almark called.

Leila was hurrying along, carrying a large leather bag and a smaller cloth bag. She frowned flagrantly when she noticed Almark.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Just stretching my legs. You’re going home soon, right?”

“I suppose.”

“Who’s picking you up?”

“There’s someone from my family waiting in the harbor.”

She then proceeded to walk straight past Almark.

“Take care,” he said.

Leila barely acknowledged Almark’s words, aside from a curt nod heading toward the gate, without sparing him another look.

Leila’s family, House Kugan, was a distinguished noble house from the Logosha Kingdom in the central plains, which produced many ministers and bureaucrats. However, the Logosha Kingdom was apparently a branch of the larger, more powerful Foretta Kingdom, so there were some political intricacies to it all that Almark neither understood nor cared for.

But Leila had told him once that she didn’t have time to waste. This, coupled with how she seemed to act in secret, trying to avoid everyone’s attention despite being a noble, made Almark realize that she was absolutely hiding something.

As the sun rose, adults crossed the gates into the institute. All of them passed the garden and headed straight for the student dorms. Some of the students couldn’t wait patiently within the dorms, either, and headed straight for the gates or otherwise waited restlessly outside the dorms and garden.

Almark curiously watched through his dorm room window. Like Morgan and Nelson said, it was quite the sight. The students each seemed to have their own way of waiting, and the grown-ups were also dressed in different ways. There were men dressed in suits that were the very image of a noble’s butler, and adults dressed like servants. Others had wealthy outfits, likely merchants. Some of the men looked like farmers dressed in their finest clothes. One man was dressed in a vividly colored foreign dress, likely of the Brochea people who lived even farther west of the Foretta Kingdom.

Wow, is there a student here from all the way over there? Almark marveled.

He spotted Eldo among the sea of people. The boy’s parents had already arrived, and Eldo was hopping merrily around them. He looked like a normal child, an image Almark could hardly link with the boy who always condescendingly scolded him.

I’m so glad I got to save Eldo, Almark reminded himself.

Almark had never assumed or planned on going back home for the summer, but seeing Eldo act so happy made his heart feel a pang of longing. He couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like if his father were here to pick him up, just like all the other children.

The right-hand man of Jerus, the captain of the Black Wolf Riders—Reiz the Shadow Fang. The only kind of formal outfit Almark could recall him in was his dull black metal armor. It was what he wore when he was out to negotiate as the captain’s proxy, or when he spoke to mercenaries, or when he faced off with other groups’ aces.

“By the time you think, ‘I should’ve had my armor on,’ it’s already too late.”

That was his father’s philosophy. Never be reckless, always prepare for the worst outcome. But that wasn’t all there was to it. His father always looked incredibly dignified in his black armor, giving off the silent pressure that wordlessly communicated to others that although he was a mercenary, he wouldn’t be treated with disrespect, which was necessary when handling tough negotiations.

Almark always admired and took pride in his father for that.

But still, his father surely wouldn’t show up in full armor for a time like this. He had to wonder what he would wear, then, but Almark truly couldn’t imagine his father in anything but armor. The only time he would possibly learn the answer to that would be if his father were to show up in the remaining six years he had in this institute.

Almark watched through the windows as the students greeted their parents for some time, but he soon noticed he never saw Wendy leave the dorm. He did promise to see her off, and so the fact that she hadn’t stepped out yet made him a bit concerned.

Almark had started heading to Wendy’s room when he noticed a large boy walking through the hall.

It was Tohrk. He was accompanied by what looked like two servants who were carrying his large baggage down the hall. Tohrk himself shouldered a small leather bag.

“Going home, Tohrk?” Almark asked.

Tohrk muttered a nearly inaudible “yeah.” He wasn’t smiling.

“You don’t look too happy about it,” Almark said.

“I’m too old to get excited about that.”

“Huh.”

“Besides, going back just reminds me how harsh reality is. Like, my brother and sister…” Tohrk paused and shook his head. “Why am I telling you about this?”

He turned his back on Almark and walked down the steps.

“I hear you’re going to actually start learning magic next year,” Tohrk added. “Better use your summer break to brush up on meditation, then. Wouldn’t want to drag the rest of the class down.”

With that remark, Tohrk vanished down the stairs.

Almark overheard a servant say, “Young master, watch your language” to Tohrk, who promptly replied, “Shaddup.”

As he approached Wendy’s room, her roommate Karah had just stepped out, with two servants carrying her bags.

“What? Wendy? Her chaperone isn’t here yet. Haven’t seen her all morning.”

Almark told Karah to take care on her way home and walked down the steps to the dorm. Where did Wendy go? Apparently, her butler, who was supposed to pick her up, hadn’t arrived yet.

On the way out, Almark ran into Nelson, Norish, Lilty, Garain, Deg, and his other classmates. They were all smiling excitedly. Almark met their families, wished them a safe journey, and left the dorm.

There was still a large crowd outside, but just like when he looked out the window, Wendy wasn’t in sight. Instead, Almark ran into a group that also seemed to be walking around in search of something.

It was a grizzled older man with a beard and a younger man and woman. Were these Wendy’s chaperones?

“Excuse me…,” Almark called, to which the grizzled man quickly turned to face him. “Are you three looking for Wendy?”

The man nodded. “Yes, indeed we are. You must be a school friend of the young lady, I assume. I am Ward, the Baherb family butler. Do you know where Lady Wendy is right now?”

“I’m Almark, one of Wendy’s classmates. She wasn’t in her dorm room, so I’ve been looking for her, too. You haven’t seen her yet, either, Mr. Ward?”

“Goodness.” Ward turned to the man and woman behind him. “It seems Lady Wendy isn’t here, either.”

“Where should we look for her, then?” the woman said, visibly bewildered.

“I do not know… Master Almark, do you have an idea of where Lady Wendy might be?”

“Hmm…”

If she’s not in the dorm…

Almark considered the schoolhouse, the garden, and the forest, but he couldn’t imagine what she would have to look for there. Ward’s question made Almark realize he didn’t really know much about Wendy.

“We would’ve seen her by now if she was in the garden, so that just leaves the schoolhouse and the forest…,” Almark said.

“I see. We shall look for her there, then.” Ward nodded and began giving instructions to the man and woman behind him.

“Ah, wait, please.” Almark hurriedly stopped them. “Both are a bit far, so you might end up missing her if she comes here. You must have a ship to catch, right? The schoolhouse and forest are in the same direction, so I’ll go find her. The three of you can wait here. She’ll come back here either way, so please stay where you are so that you don’t miss her.”

“I see. Indeed, we’re entirely unfamiliar with the institute. Master Almark, your help is much appreciated.” Ward bowed to Almark, a mere child.

“P-please don’t, Mr. Ward. I’m just a commoner.” Almark waved a hand dismissively, but Ward shook his head.

“Nonsense, young man. As far as the Norkh Institute for Magic is concerned, status is irrelevant. You are all prospective mages. Even a mere servant like me has heard as much. And you are a friend of Lady Wendy’s, Master Almark. The family head, Lord Elmond, has ordered me to treat everyone here with due respect.”

“Well, uh…thank you.” Almark resorted to this for lack of a better answer. “I’ll go check the forest and the schoolhouse. Please stay here.”

He turned around and left, with Ward’s encouraging words pushing him forward.

Soon after heading to the schoolhouse, Almark ran into Wendy, who came walking from the opposite direction.

“Wendy!”

Hearing his voice, Wendy stopped in her tracks, surprised. “Almark? What are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you the same thing. Ward’s here to pick you up; he’s been looking for you.”

“Oh, already?” Wendy’s expression changed, and she hurried over to Almark. “I thought I still had some time left. I have to hurry.”

“Where were you?”

“I had something to do in the forest…”

“The forest?” Almark frowned. “Ah, I guess it doesn’t matter. We gotta hurry. Ward’s worried about you.”

“Right.”

The two ran back to the dorms together, and Ward quickly spotted them.

“Lady Wendy!” he said as he approached her.

“Ward! I’m sorry I’m late. I lost track of the time.”

“No worries, milady. I’m just glad you are well.” Ward took Wendy’s hands, and his expression melted into a smile.

“Lady Wendy!”

The two other servants caught up to them and beamed at Wendy.

“Lisa, Peil, you both came, too?” Wendy asked.

The pair smiled and asked how she was doing. Almark instantly realized that Wendy was beloved by the servants of House Baherb.

Ward turned to look at him and bowed his head. “Master Almark, thank you for your help.”

“Don’t be. Wendy came back on her own while I was on the way to the woods,” Almark said modestly.

But Ward shook his head. “Your judgment back there was sound. I was quite impressed. It stands to reason that you are a friend of Lady Wendy’s.”

Everything he said felt so over the top.

“I’m sorry if I made you worry, Almark. Ward, let’s go to my room,” said Wendy.

Ward bowed to Almark again and headed toward the dorm.

Almark waited outside the dorm for a while, and Wendy’s group soon emerged. The male servant, Peil, carried Wendy’s luggage, while Wendy herself only carried a small bag.

“Thanks for waiting, Almark,” Wendy said.

She looked awkwardly at her servants and then insisted she could handle her luggage on her own.

Ward refused. “Perish the thought, Lady Wendy. Lord Elmond would scold us if we let you do that.”

Almark escorted Wendy’s group through the garden to the school gates.

“Actually, I’ve been meaning to invite Almark and Morgan over to visit this summer,” Wendy told Ward.

“Oh, you intend to invite your classmates to the estate? How lovely.”

He added with a smile that they’d need to make sure the estate was up to the guests’ standards. Almark bowed his head, apologizing for the trouble.

“Don’t be absurd,” Ward said as he shook his head. “I may be overstepping here, but please do come visit. Lady Wendy’s smile brings joy to everyone in House Baherb.”

“Ward loves to exaggerate,” Wendy remarked with a bemused smile.

“I’m not exaggerating.” Ward’s expression was very earnest. “Everyone who attends to House Baherb feels the same way.”

“…Thank you, Ward.”

Wendy turned a sheepish smile at Almark. They walked through the garden for a few more minutes.

“That reminds me, what were you doing in the woods?” Almark asked.

“Oh,” said Wendy. “I was just looking at the flowers…”

She looked oddly disappointed.

“Flowers?”

“Yeah. There are summerwater hollyhocks blooming by the brook there. They’re really pretty, but they only bloom in midsummer. And I’m never here in midsummer, right? So I never see them.”

“Oh…”

“But the other day, I found what looked like buds growing there, so I was wondering whether today was my last chance… Except they didn’t bloom.”

She didn’t give up and spent time looking around for more of them.

“So that’s why I was late. Sorry I made you go out of your way to find me.”

“No, it’s just…”

I never knew you liked flowers. There’s still so much I don’t know about you.

As they talked, they soon arrived at the gate.

“This is as far as I go.” Almark stopped.

“Thanks for coming, Almark.” Wendy turned to look at him. She wasn’t smiling anymore. “I’ll write as soon as I get home.”

“Yeah. I’ll be waiting.” Almark nodded. “Take care on the way back.”

“I will.”

Silence followed, only breaking when Ward gently told Wendy it was time to depart.

Wendy nodded. “Thank you for coming to say goodbye. See you soon, Almark.”

“Yeah.”

“Goodbye, then…”

Wendy set off outside the gate. Ward and the servants bowed their heads respectfully and followed her. Almark watched her leave for a moment, but then an intense feeling filled his heart. Confused by this surge of emotion, Almark called out to Wendy’s retreating figure.

“Wendy! Thank you!”

Wendy turned around, surprised.

“Ever since I got here, you’ve done nothing but help me,” Almark continued. “I’m only where I am right now thanks to you!”

He waved goodbye and saw a tearful smile make its way to Wendy’s face as she waved back.

Once Wendy was out of view, Almark turned to go back to the dorms, when he ran into a familiar guard smiling at him.

“Zeid.”

“Almark. It’s been a while.”

This was Zeid, the guard who helped Almark out when he first reached the institute gates. He was one of the people who knew Almark was the son of a Northern mercenary, although Almark didn’t know what the headmaster Eurog had told the teachers.

“Was that Wendy who just left? I guess that’s the last of the students for the elementary division,” Zeid said.

“Really?”

“Yes. Today’s the hardest day of the year for us gate guards, I’ll have you know.”

Indeed, a day with so many guests would no doubt be hectic for the guards stationed there.

“Everyone looked so happy to go home,” Zeid said, but then he remembered Almark’s background. “Ah, I guess you can’t go home for the summer, huh?”

“That’s right. It doesn’t bother me, though.”

Almark was prepared for this when he came to the institute. It took him over eighteen months just to travel here alone, so he didn’t expect to be able to leave for a few months to see his father.

However…

Almark suddenly remembered what he’d seen that morning in the garden. Leila, with that severe expression. Leila didn’t look very happy to go back home. Even Tohrk, for all his complaints, seemed to feel some freedom at the prospect of going home. But that morning, what Almark sensed from Leila as he watched her walk away was a sense of duty and nothing else, rather than her usual coolheaded composure.

Did Leila have no home to go back to, in the truest sense? Holding that thought, Almark turned to Zeid.

“Leila was the first one to leave, right?”

“Leila?” Zeid paused for thought and then nodded. “Yes, she was the first to leave the institute today.”

The way Zeid said this struck Almark as strange.

“The first to leave today? Did someone leave yesterday?”

They still had classes the day before.

“Correct,” Zeid said handily. “Wollis went back home last night.”

“Wollis did?” Almark recalled the light he saw in the garden the previous night. Had that been Wollis? “He left alone?”

“Yes, Wollis leaves alone every year. I’m not sure why; maybe he’s like Leila and has someone pick him up from the harbor.”

“I see…”

Wollis must have had his own complicated circumstances. If nothing else, he was more than just an ordinary honor student.

“Oh, now that I think of it,” Zeid suddenly said, “Wollis kind of reminds me of you.”

“Me?”

“Apparently, Wollis traveled all the way here alone when he entered the institute. All the way from the western end of Garai.”

“What?”

Wollis would have been nine years old at the time. That was when Almark first went out to war. And while the Garai Kingdom was safe and stable, relative to the Northern lands, Almark had never seen a child that age travel there except for himself.

“Wollis is from a noble family, right?” Almark asked. “I had no choice but to travel alone, but why would he choose to do that?”

Zeid cocked his head pensively. “I don’t know the details, but I’ve never seen anyone from Wollis’s family come visit. I’m sure they have their reasons.”

“I see…”

Zeid was right, and Almark knew better than to pry. He’d only asked the question to understand why Wollis seemed to eye him with such hostility, but the answer merely deepened the mystery.

“In any case,” Zeid said, “how have you been doing? Has life at the institute been treating you well?”

Almark smiled. “Yes, I’m quite used to things here now, thanks to you.”

I still can’t use any magic, though.

Zeid peered into Almark’s face. “So it seems. You look so much more at peace than on the first day we met. I hardly recognize you.”

Almark nodded, his expression every bit as peaceful as Zeid said.

Chapter 2

With everyone having gone back home, fewer than twenty students remained in the dorms over the summer. Almark and Morgan had breakfast in the empty dining hall. Without all the students filling them with noise and activity, the dorms felt empty.

What’s more, about half of the twenty students that remained in the institute were only there after failing exams, and left eagerly once supplementary lessons concluded in five days. Once they were gone, there were only ten students or so.

Almark tried to make the best use of his time during this vacation. He spent his mornings and evenings meditating, and during the afternoon he hung out with Morgan, either going out shopping or going into the woods to fish. Morgan had more time than he knew what to do with and often came to Almark to invite him to play, and Almark didn’t have the heart to turn him down. During nights, he read all sorts of books he borrowed from the library.

Almark didn’t mind this kind of daily routine.

The whole time, Morgan spent every day waiting for Wendy’s letter to arrive. She said she’d write to them once she got home, but the letter was taking a while.

At last, Wendy’s letter arrived twelve days into summer vacation.

“It’s finally here!”

Morgan stormed into Almark’s room, waving around an envelope with their names on it.

“It took a while to get here,” said Almark.

Morgan nodded. “She probably had so much fun at home, she forgot.”

Would she? Would Wendy forget about us?

Almark had a sense of unease on the day the letter arrived. Did something happen to her?

“I’m opening it.” Morgan grinned from ear to ear and unsealed the letter. His expression clouded over. “Huh…?”

“What’s wrong?” Almark frowned.

“Look at this.”

Morgan looked up from the letter and showed it to Almark. Written at the top of the letter in Wendy’s handwriting was…

Almark, Morgan, I’m so sorry.

“…What happened?”

Almark took the letter from Morgan, who was crestfallen after skimming its contents. The letter was full of apologies and Wendy’s modest attempts at sparing their feelings, which only made the actual issues at hand harder to understand, but in short, the situation was as follows:

Lord Elmond, a Garai Kingdom minister and Wendy’s father, was on his way to eventually becoming prime minister despite being only in his thirties. But not everyone viewed this young, distinguished man so highly. He had many political rivals. One such rival hired brigands of unknown identity to harm Lord Elmond and his family.

It was unclear if this was just an empty threat, but suspicious figures had been spotted on more than one occasion in the vicinity of the Baherb estate in Garenthol. That on its own wasn’t cause for great concern, but more recently, dead animals had been dumped at the estate’s gates, serving as implicit threats to the family’s safety.

Lord Elmond was not one to be daunted by such threats himself, but with his precious daughter back from school, he had to take things seriously. As soon as Wendy returned home, her father sent her and the family butler Ward to the Baherb territory north of Garenthol.

I pleaded with Father, asking that he let me stay in Garenthol a while longer, but he refused to budge, saying this was to keep me safe.

Wendy was currently in the town of Miletos in the Baherb domain. The only ones left in Garenthol were Wendy’s parents and older brother. This commotion explained the letter’s late arrival.

“It’s over…,” Morgan whispered despondently. “My summer break is over. There’s nothing to look forward to…”

“You’re exaggerating,” Almark said, but in truth, he was quite disappointed, too.

Not being able to visit Wendy was a shame, but what really hurt was how many times the words I’m sorry and forgive me were repeated in her letter. Each time he saw them, it cut into him like a knife. As he looked at the neat handwriting, a single thought occupied Almark’s mind.

This is Wendy’s summer vacation, too, and now she has to spend it feeling like this?

The next day, Almark approached Morgan, deciding that he’d be the one to invite him to go fishing. Morgan, still very disheartened, didn’t seem eager to go, but Almark pulled him along, saying it was a change of pace.

The two sat side by side, their fishing lines bobbing in the water, but it seemed that the fish simply weren’t biting today.

“Not even a nibble,” Almark mused, his eyes on the unbudging line.

“When you’re down on your luck, nothing works out.” Morgan sighed and cracked a feeble smile. “The summerwater hollyhocks are blooming so beautifully… But my heart is clouded over and gray.”

“…Morgan, what did you just say?”

Almark quickly turned to Morgan, who stared back blankly. “Huh?”

“What did you just say?”

“My heart’s all clouded over and gray…?”

“No, before that.”

“The summerwater hollyhocks are beautiful…?”

“Yes, that!” Almark closed in on him. “The hollyhocks—where are they blooming?”

“Uh, over there.” Morgan pointed.

Indeed, among the greenery near them were vivid blue colors. They had a lush, distinctive cerulean shade that stood out and grabbed Almark’s attention. He’d never seen flowers like these in the North.

“Those are summerwater hollyhocks?”

“Yeah.”

“They’re pretty.”

“We’ve got them blooming at my place, too,” said Morgan. “I’ve heard they’re also on Norkh Island, but I’ve never seen them here before because I always go home for the summer.”

“This is the first time I’ve ever seen one. It’s my first summer in the South.”

He recalled how Wendy had said she never got to see summerwater hollyhocks.

I wish I could show them to her.

The thought naturally crossed his mind. These flowers probably didn’t grow in the Baherb domain, farther north of Garenthol.

I want Wendy to see these flowers.

Almark’s heart throbbed, remembering their goodbye.

“Let’s go,” Almark said, suddenly getting to his feet.

“Huh?” Morgan looked up at him, confused.

“Let’s go, Morgan.”

“Go where?” Morgan was baffled.

But Almark had already made up his mind.

“To see Wendy. We’re gonna show her these flowers.”

Almark hurried back into his room and opened a book he’d checked out of the library—a map of the Garai Kingdom. He traced his finger over the topography as he pointed out spots to Morgan.

“We can go to Miletos if we want to. It takes two days to get from Norkh Island to Garenthol, and Miletos is two days from there via white carriage. It’s a four-day trip in total.”

“Whoa, hold on there, Almark.” Morgan held down Almark’s hand. “You make it sound easy, but we’d need to take a white carriage along the king’s highway. Do you have any idea how much that costs?”

“If we can’t take a white carriage, we’ll just go by standard stagecoach, which’ll take four to five days. Add that to the trip to Garenthol, and it’ll be a total of six to seven days. A stagecoach will be cheap, but we’ll need to consider lodging costs.” Almark then added nonchalantly, “I’m fine with sleeping outdoors.”

“Well, I’m not!” Morgan rejected the idea out of hand, shaking his head adamantly. “If it was just a day or two, maybe, but having to sleep outdoors for five days? I’ll get mushrooms growing out of my head!”

“Hmm…” Almark sank into thought. “Fine… I guess I’ll have to resort to that option.”

“What resort?”

“Come on, Morgan.” Almark got to his feet. “We’re going to the schoolhouse.”

“What for?”

“Just come with me,” Almark said as he left the room.

Morgan hurried after him. “What got you so driven, all of a sudden?”

Shortly after, Almark and Morgan were in the headmaster’s office, facing his large desk.

“Hmm…”

Morgan watched, pale-faced, as Eurog nodded in contemplation. The boy had followed Almark all the way to the schoolhouse, but he hadn’t expected his friend to just walk into the headmaster’s office. There, Almark approached the old headmaster, whom Morgan had only ever seen glimpses of, and asked him to give them money for the trip to Miletos.

Morgan deeply regretted going with Almark. He didn’t know his friend would dare do something this absurd.

“Yes, I know last time we spoke…,” Eurog began, “…I did tell you to not be shy and ask if you ever need money. But the sum you’re asking for here is rather considerable.”

“Is it too much?” Almark asked, while Morgan hung his head.

“May I ask why you two need to go to Miletos?”

“To meet a friend.”

“A friend?”

“Yes. And I think she’s lonely right now. She said she wants to see Norkh Island’s summerwater hollyhocks, and I want to show them to her.”

“Hm.”

“The safest way would be to take a white carriage along the king’s highway, but we don’t have the money for that. So I thought I’d ask, but if it’s too much, that’s fine. I’ll come up with something else.”

“Well, if you think this is a necessary expense…,” Eurog said. “I have no reason to not dispense the funds. I can tell you’re not lying. Very well, I’ll cover the fare.”

Morgan looked up, surprised.

“Go see your friend. I can tell this means a lot to you. But I ask that you don’t make any stops or other excursions along the way. Conclude your business promptly and return to the institute. Understood?”

“Thank you!”

Almark bowed his head, and a flummoxed Morgan soon did the same.

“Okay, Morgan, let’s go!” Almark tapped Morgan on the shoulder.

Morgan took off after him, blinking in bewilderment. “Excuse us, Headmaster!”

Once the boys ran off, Eurog heaved a deep sigh.

“I see.” The old man’s voice sank to a whisper. “This is the way the stars are aligning. Then we, too, must harden our resolve.”

Almark and Morgan used Eurog’s signed invoice to receive the money they needed before hurrying back to the dorm.

“I can’t believe it, Almark! Look at all the money we got from the headmaster!” Morgan was ecstatic. “I dunno how you did it, but now we can take the carriage along the king’s highway! This is great!”

Almark carefully counted the money and said, “Yes, this should be enough for the round trip.”

“It’ll be my first time on a white carriage, you know.” Morgan put his hands to his cheeks. His head was already full of images of the leisurely trip.

“Yeah, me too.”

“Really? Given how familiar you were with them, I thought you’d taken one already.”

“Of course not. Why would a kid like me ride such a fancy carriage?” Almark replied calmly. “Forget that, though. We need to get ready for the trip. Strike while the iron is hot.”

The pair hurried into town, where they did some shopping, and decided to depart the next day.

Garenthol, the capital of the Garai Kingdom, was the largest city in the South, and at the center of this gorgeous metropolis was the grand, imposing Castle Garenthol, which served as the beating heart of the kingdom. Set around it were the luxurious mansions belonging to the nobles of domains across the nation.

One such mansion was the home of a certain nobleman. In its office sat a man, the apparent master of this abode; he was resting languidly against the tall chair’s backrest and listening to his subordinate’s report. As the subordinate updated him on assorted matters, the man stared into space without a word leaving his lips.

“Next, about the matter of Lord Elmond…”

The subordinate’s mention of that name made the man react for the first time.

“Speak,” he commanded. His expression didn’t change, but a hint of obsession filled his eyes. “What became of Elmond’s daughter? Did it go well?”

The man urged him to elaborate, but the subordinate did not rush and continued his report with his tone unchanged.

“Our plans thus far have proven effective. Lord Elmond had his daughter moved to Miletos.”

“Good. All is according to plan, then.” A thin smile played over the man’s otherwise hollow countenance. “What of the mercenaries?”

“On their way to Miletos.”

“…I imagine our marks are still cautious, having just arrived. Wait a few days for them to let down their guard and have the mercenaries make their play then.”

“By your will, milord.”

The subordinate left the room, and the smile plastered onto the man’s face faded bit by bit. His expression became blank again, and he continued staring out into space.

Early the next morning, Almark and Morgan boarded a ship off Norkh Harbor. The voyage took half a day and landed them in the town of Relbuda on the opposite shore. Almark had his favored longsword at his back, while Morgan was carrying a practice staff he secretly took from the magic training area.

Traveling through Garai was fairly safe, but Morgan and Almark were still just two children traveling alone, and there was no telling what could happen. Bandits and highwaymen were not unheard-of. And so, erring on the side of caution, the two each brought a weapon that would let them leverage their skill sets.

“This takes me back.” Almark looked around the Relbuda Harbor for the first time since he’d left it to land on Norkh Island. “I had to work here for a month to earn the fare for the ship to the institute.”

“A month?!” Morgan’s eyes widened. “It took you a month just to afford the fare?”

“Well, I was penniless back then. They only paid me a third of an adult’s salary, and my lodging and meals were all deducted from it, too. After a day of work, I hardly got to keep any of my wages.”

But, as Almark remarked, he was lucky to have been hired at all.

“My family’s pretty poor, too, but…” Morgan shook his head in awe. “You seriously work hard, don’t you?”

“Not really. I wasn’t being worked to death or anything.”

“Um, that’s a weird standard to hold yourself to.”

The pair went to a stagecoach stop and took a carriage to Garenthol. The coachman stared at these two unusual children quizzically, but he accepted the fare without asking questions.

Their carriage rolled along the road to the capital. It made a stop around noon to allow the coachman and horse to rest, during which merchants carrying bags of food sold meals to the passengers.

Morgan’s stomach growled loudly, and so he and Almark bought sandwiches made of freshly baked bread and piping hot meat. After that, the carriage set out again and passed through a few villages. Upon reaching a larger town, the carriage stopped, and the passengers disembarked.

“This town is our stop for the day. Come here tomorrow for the rest of the trip,” the coachman told the boys as they got off the carriage.

“We should find a place to spend the night,” Almark said to Morgan.

The two of them went to the plaza adjacent to the carriage stop and sat under a large tree in the corner.

“Nice day,” Morgan said. “Perfect weather for spending the night outdoors.”

Almark nodded.

They had bread and dried fruit they got from Norkh’s vendors for dinner, and after Morgan cast a bug-repelling spell of questionable efficacy, the two went to sleep.

The next morning, Almark went to the carriage stop with a sleepy-eyed Morgan and saw the carriage was already tied to the horse and ready to set out.

“I was just about to leave without you, sleepyheads,” the coachman said, grinning at them. “Hop in, we should be arriving in Garenthol at noon.”

The two nodded and heaved themselves up to the carriage, which set off down the highway just like yesterday.

“Morgan, look.” Almark pointed ahead. The silhouette of a great city was hazily visible down the highway. “That’s Garenthol.”

“It always looks so big.” Morgan idly wondered at how many districts the city had. “There’s still a while before noon, but we’re almost there,” he remarked, to which the coachman turned to look at them.

“Don’t be stupid, boy. It’s still so small in the distance, we’ve got a while until we’re there. You’ll know you’re really there when every way you look, all you’ll be seeing is Garenthol’s streets.”

“Whoa…,” Morgan droned in amazement. “Garai’s capital really is that big, huh?”

“It’s a lively place, with all sorts of people. You two better keep your wits about you there,” said the somewhat foul-mouthed but agreeable coachman before turning his eyes back to the road.

The capital, Garenthol.

Formally speaking, the city was the area within the castle walls, but to get inside, one had to go through a strict search from the guards. Every day, a long line stretched from the gates. The area inside the walls was considerable, but the carriages waited in the commoner sector of the city that was several times bigger than the walled part.

As they approached the city, Almark could see other carriages along the sides of the road as they rolled toward Garenthol. The road to the capital had become wide enough for four carriages to ride side by side.

“All these paths lead straight to Garenthol,” the coachman said as he whipped his horse. “We’ll be in for a long wait if we get to the stop later than these other folks, so we’re gonna have to pick up the pace!”

He then started spurring the horse on like it was in a race. The surrounding scenery began to whir past, and the carriage itself lurched and creaked.

“Ah, the other carriages are picking up speed, too!” Morgan stated the obvious, glancing out the window.

“They all have the same idea. Hang on tight, boys!” the coachman shouted, his eyes narrowed.

“Morgan, don’t look outside, and grab on to something! You could die if you fall out!” Almark grasped Morgan by the arm.

“R-right!”

The two made themselves as small as possible, praying that the carriage would get them all the way to Garenthol. Fortunately, only one of the other carriages reached the stop before them, so they were able to finish the arrival process swiftly.

“Not too shabby this time around,” the coachman said, satisfied.

Morgan and Almark asked him where the white carriages for the king’s highway were.

“What, boys, you taking a white carriage next? Between sleeping outdoors and taking the fancy ride, I can’t tell if the two of ya are broke or rich.”

The coachman kindly pointed them in the direction of the white carriage stop. Fortunately, it was outside the city walls, sparing them from a troublesome inspection. The two thanked the coachman and left.

Morgan had already been a few times, but this was Almark’s second time in Garenthol. There were many stalls and stores along the road to the carriage stop, tempting new arrivals to the capital to loosen their purse strings.

“Whoa, that looks tasty! Check that out! I bet it’s so good! Ooh, I wanna eat that!”

Morgan repeated those words enthusiastically as he spotted eateries every which way, and hearing him, the vendors all motioned for them to approach with big smiles. Before long, Morgan’s arms were full of assorted foods.

“Can you even eat all of that?” Almark asked, a bit taken aback, but Morgan gleefully bit into the snacks.

“It’s great! You sure you don’t want some, too?”

“I’m good. Let’s get to the white carriage stop.”

Almark set off, with Morgan hurrying after him.

The white carriages of the king’s highway. Those were the words that people associated with the Garai Kingdom. Even Almark, the son of a Northern mercenary, had heard about it. Of course, at the time it all felt like stories from a place worlds removed from his own.

The king’s highway, which spanned all of the Garai Kingdom, had started construction under a previous king of Garai some generations ago and was only recently completed. It was wide enough to fit four carriages running side by side, with guardhouses set up along relay points, stationed to secure the highway’s safety and maintenance. It served as the main traffic route of the Garai Kingdom, with many travelers passing through. It also had a separate lane for the white carriages.

They were white carriages pulled along by white horses. Not real, living horses but metallic horses brought to life by advanced magic and technology, steeds that knew no fatigue. They galloped twice as fast as the average carriage and had established themselves as a cutting-edge transportation method that revolutionized travel through the Garai Kingdom.

Of course, the fare for these special carriages was ten times that of a regular carriage, which meant they were almost exclusively reserved for the wealthy. And indeed, when Almark and Morgan entered the white carriage stop, the people waiting there were dressed in fancy, expensive clothes.

“Whoa, we stick out like a sore thumb…,” Morgan whispered to Almark, who wasn’t bothered by that. He’d felt out of place ever since he left the North and crossed the Menoba Strait.

“Let’s ask when the carriage for Miletos sets out,” he said.

Seemingly undaunted, Almark approached a female employee in a white uniform and asked about the carriage due for Miletos, only to learn it had already departed for the day.

“If you’re headed to Miletos, board the carriage due farther north to Linobeth,” she told him. “You can take it tomorrow morning once you’ve bought a ticket.”

The official explained it clearly to Almark, seeing as she was dealing with a child. Almark thanked her, bought two tickets, and left the stop with Morgan.

“Tomorrow, huh…? Guess we have to sleep outdoors today, too,” Morgan said.

Almark shook his head. “No, we should rent a room today. It’s dangerous to sleep outdoors here.”

“Huh?” Morgan frowned. After all, they’d already slept in a much emptier town. “I mean, look at how many people walk around Garenthol.”

“That’s the problem,” Almark explained calmly. “Camping out in highly populated places is dangerous.”

Indeed, Almark had firsthand experience of how dangerous it was to camp out in this city. The legal residents of this city all had homes, or at least lodgings to stay in. Anyone camping outside was some sort of thug or ne’er-do-well. And the thugs in Garenthol each had their turf. When outsiders tried to sleep there without these thugs’ permission, they took it as a sign of encroachment.

“One night, I tried to sleep in an alley, and a few thugs threatened me with knives. Told me to move right away.”

And then, when he went elsewhere, he was once again threatened by thugs. And though he could have fought back, he knew that drawing his sword in a populated, civilized city could mark him as a criminal. He didn’t get the impression the thugs were seriously determined to hurt him, so he obediently walked away. But wherever he went, things like that kept happening all night long, and he didn’t get a wink of sleep.

“If you want to try it out for yourself, I won’t stop you,” Almark said.

Morgan shuddered, shaking his head. “Let’s find a room! In a proper inn!”

Relying on Almark’s memory of the city, the two of them found a hotel not far from the white carriage stop. It was reasonably priced, and the staff didn’t ask questions about two children traveling alone.

They were told to get dinner at the hotel’s proprietary pub, and the boys elected to go early, while the sun was still out, so as to avoid drunks. But that turned out to be a pointless endeavor, as the pub was already full of drunken patrons.

The sight of two children huddled at a corner table drew curious looks, but thankfully, no one approached them. Then again, maybe that wouldn’t have been the case if they’d come later.

“Let’s get something to eat,” Almark said.

“Yeah.”

Even a glutton like Morgan knew better than to overstay his welcome there.

The two had gotten their ready-made dinners with simple side dishes, when three men walked in and gruffly settled into a table a short distance from Almark’s. A waiter approached them, and one of the men made an order, while the other two remained quiet. Once the waiter walked away, the men started speaking in hushed voices.

Almark narrowed his eyes.

…Mercenaries.

He couldn’t tell if they were on a job, but he knew their type—these men fought as mercenaries in the North. Seeing men like them in the South felt wrong and at the same time oddly nostalgic. As he ate, Almark inconspicuously glanced at them.

Even as food and drink were brought to their table, the three didn’t smile. They simply ate in silence, occasionally speaking with muffled voices.

They’re still mercenaries, Almark thought.

They didn’t look like anything other than mercenaries, and they had a certain air about them, too.

But just then, one man from another group of patrons slipped his elbow, dropping his mug to the floor. The sound of shattering glass stunned the whole pub into momentary silence. But upon seeing that this wasn’t the signal of a fight breaking out, the place soon resumed its usual noise and chatter. The mercenary men paid the sound no heed and continued speaking in hushed tones.

Morgan watched a waiter hurry over to clean up the mess, and the patron who broke the glass apologized profusely.

“Yikes, this is why I don’t like being around drunks…,” Morgan said. “Almark, let’s eat fast and go to our room.”

But then he noticed Almark’s expression.

“Almark? What’s wrong? That look on your face is kinda scary.”

Almark smiled back at him right away, but his expression was still awkward. An ominous premonition brewed in Almark’s heart like storm clouds in summer.

The moment the pub went silent, Almark’s keen hearing had picked up on a tiny bit of the mercenaries’ conversation:

“Baherb.”

One of the men had said Wendy’s surname. And whatever reason a Northern mercenary had to mention that surname couldn’t have meant anything good for Wendy.

“Morgan,” Almark whispered, “is there any way to listen in to what those people over there are saying?”

“Huh?” Morgan started to turn toward them, but Almark raised a hand to stop him.

“Don’t look at them. The three at that table over there. I want to listen in on their conversation.”

“Why?”

“Because I heard them say ‘Baherb’ earlier.”

“Baherb…? Wendy’s family?”

Morgan was no longer whispering, and Almark felt a chill run through him. What if those men heard him?!

“Morgan, keep your voice down!”

“Huh? But Wendy’s family are, like, big name nobles in Garai. People gossip about folks like that.”

Morgan still wasn’t whispering when he said Wendy’s name. Almark clicked his tongue quietly.

“Morgan, listen to me.” Almark brought his face to Morgan’s. “Those three men are Northerners. I can tell, because I come from there, too. And they’re mercenaries.”

“Mercenaries?” Morgan repeated, baffled. “What’re those again?”

“Mercenaries are like…” Almark paused, unsure how to explain it. “Like thugs that specialize in war. Soldiers of fortune that get hired by nobles to fight their battles for them.”

“Oh, that. Yeah, I’ve heard of those people.” Morgan nodded. “But why would mercenaries come to Garenthol? I thought all the wars were up north.”

“…Not all wars are big. They take on smaller skirmishes, too. Like slaying monsters, protecting towns, guarding convoys…and assassinations.”

“Assassinations?”

“Remember Wendy’s letter? She said one of her father’s rivals hired mercenaries that were going around their manor.”

“She did write that!” Morgan cried, prompting several patrons to look at him. A child’s loud voice traveled far, even in this packed pub.

“Morgan, I told you to keep your voice down!”

“S-sorry. So, what does this mean?”

“I think those people might be the mercenaries she mentioned.”

“That can’t be… I mean, us just running into the right people by coincidence?”

“Yeah, odds are I’m wrong. I just have this really bad feeling. Call it intuition, but it’s bugging me. So to make sure I’m wrong, I want to listen in on what they’re talking about.” Almark looked straight at Morgan. “Can you do that, Morgan? Our friend’s life…Wendy’s life is on the line here. Please.”

“Right… We’re doing this for Wendy.” Morgan nodded. “I can’t hold the spell for long, though. We have to do this before anyone in the pub starts getting suspicious.”

“All right.”

Morgan took one deep breath, steeling himself to use magic. He closed his eyes in concentration while Almark casually looked around to confirm no one was watching.

A moment later, a clump of weak, invisible voices formed over the table.

Morgan’s Voice Gathering spell was in effect. At first, it was just a cluster of incomprehensible voices, but slowly it unraveled into words Almark could make out.

“So you know what I told him?”

“‘Ain’t no meat out there I can’t eat.’”

“That’s exactly what I said to the guy.”

“Gah-ha-ha-ha-ha!”

Almark shook his head. “No, Morgan, I didn’t mean that table.”

“Huh?”

“The one to its right.”

“Controlling this spell is hard…!” Morgan closed his eyes again. “To the right…,” he whispered under his breath, concentrating.

A moment later, another clump of invisible voices formed over the table.

“…So… Apparently.”

“But… Right?”

“There it is, Morgan.”

Those were likely the voices of those three men. They were whispering, but like when Almark heard Norish using the Wind’s Whispers spell in the institute, it was mostly unintelligible fragments of words.

“Morgan, sorry, can you make the voices more accurate…?”

“They’re whispering too much… This is as much as I can do right now. You’ll just have to listen carefully.”

“All right.”

Almark perked up his ears, listening to the unraveling cocoon of voices. All the noise around them made it harder to focus.

“…’s requests are always…”

“No choice…but… Right?”

“…you…endy…”

“Did he just say ‘Wendy’…?”

Almark listened in more carefully.

“Already…it…at…”

“…at Miletos…”

“Ah!”

Baherb. Wendy. Miletos. It felt like his suspicions had just been confirmed.

“Keep going, Morgan. Just a little longer…”

“I can’t quite get the hang of it…!” Morgan said, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

“…The folks over there…”

“…All that’s left is… Soon…”

“We just need to wait… In three days’ time…”

“It all depends on when they make their move. We just need to go about business as usual.”

The voices became noticeably clearer.

Good job, Morgan! Almark cheered him on internally.

But Morgan’s face was contorted in effort.

“We need to keep their eyes fixed on us.”

“It could take some time, but either way…”

“May I take your plates?”

Suddenly, a waiter reached out in front of Morgan and Almark, whisking away their empty dishes.

Morgan’s eyes widened. His concentration broke, and all the voices manifested over the table disappeared with a pop. But right before they did, the boys heard the most clear, accurate voice thus far.

“Once those guys kill that Wendy girl, we’ll be done with this gig.”

Almark looked shocked. Once the meaning of those words set in, Morgan seemed ready to shout, but Almark swiftly clapped a hand over his mouth.

The three men finished their food soon after and left the pub. A few minutes later, after confirming they were really gone, Almark and Morgan went to their hotel room.

“They said…they’re gonna kill Wendy,” Morgan whispered, seated on the bed.

“Yeah…” Almark nodded. “From what I’ve heard, they’re the ones harassing the Baherb manor, and they have another group in Miletos, where Wendy went. They’re the ones who’re going to try to kill her…”

“I can’t believe they just talk about killing someone as part of a job!” Morgan said, glaring into space. “Mercenaries are awful!”

“…Yeah.” Almark had to agree.

Morgan’s voice was thick with anger. “We can’t let them get away with this. I don’t want people like them in the Garai Kingdom—in our lands!”

“…Right.”

Almark had to nod again, unable to find it in him to retort.

Mercenaries only worked because someone hired them. This meant someone in the Garai Kingdom called on these mercenaries to murder Wendy without dirtying their own hands. That was what Almark believed, although he didn’t say it aloud.

After briefly venting his outrage at the mercenaries, Morgan suddenly turned anxious.

“But what can we do about Wendy?”

“We have to save her,” Almark answered, his tone firm.

Morgan nodded, but he still looked anxious. “How, though? Do we tell Wendy’s dad about this?”

“I considered that,” said Almark. “But the Baherb estate is within the castle walls. If we want to get there, we’d have to spend all of tomorrow standing in line for the gates. And even if we do, the only people who know us are Wendy and Ward, and neither of them are in the city. We’d have no way to prove we’re Wendy’s classmates.”

“Oh…”

“Plus, the manor is probably on high alert, so the odds of us actually being let inside are slim. Even if by some stroke of luck they did let us in, no one would believe a couple of kids working off unreliable information they just so happened to hear.”

“True…”

“Trying to convince them would be a waste of two days, too. Even assuming they do believe us and send a messenger to Miletos, it’ll be wasting a lot of time; time when Wendy is in mortal danger. And also, if the assassins find out we heard their plan, there’s no telling what they’ll do. They might decide to make an attempt on Wendy’s life right then and there.”

“And we can’t let them do that.”

“Exactly. So if we want to protect Wendy, I think the most realistic approach would be to stick to our original plan and take a white carriage to Miletos tomorrow.”

“But what’ll we do there?”

“We’ll visit Wendy and tell Ward and the others about the mercenaries’ plan. Have them heighten security so the assassins can’t get to her. The mercenaries will probably give up when they see their scheme’s been compromised.”

“Right,” said Morgan. “So we have to hurry.”

“Yeah. If we take the carriage tomorrow, we’ll get to Miletos the day after. Those men said something about three days from now. I’m not sure what they meant, but if they’re going to raid the estate at Miletos, we could still make it in time if we leave tomorrow.”

“…Understood.” Morgan nodded gravely. “If that’s what you think, let’s do it. I believe in you, Almark.”

“Thanks, Morgan.”

“Seriously, though, why is this happening?” Morgan heaved a sigh.

“I know you don’t like this sort of thing. I’m sorry our trip for summer break ended up like this…”

“It’s not your fault or anything.” Morgan waved a hand. “Plus, I’m a man, too. I can’t afford to be timid when a girl’s life is in danger.” He then added with a smile, “And hey, I get to ride a white carriage for the first time ever tomorrow. So let’s get to bed early, so we’re not late.”

“…Right.”

Almark smiled back, grateful for Morgan’s ability to look on the bright side.

The scenery outside the carriage window flew past. Almark thought the carriage was fast when the coachman spurred the horse on right before they arrived in Garenthol, but this white carriage moved twice as fast as even that.

“White carriages really live up to their reputation…,” Morgan muttered, staring out the window the whole time.

The white carriage Almark and Morgan took sped along the king’s highway. The road from Relbuda to Garenthol was very spacious as well, wide enough for two carriages to pass each other by, but the king’s highway was two times wider than that. There was a special lane for white carriages, which were twice the size of ordinary coaches, and ordinary carriages, horses, and pedestrians could travel on the other side.

“I could look out the window forever and never get bored,” Morgan remarked.

“Agreed,” Almark said, his eyes likewise fixed on the window.

Morgan looked away, noticing the grave expression on Almark’s face. “Are you worried about yesterday?”

“Yeah,” Almark said briefly. “When a Northern mercenary says they’ll do something, they’ll stop at nothing to accomplish it. So I’m worried about Wendy.”

“I hope we get to Miletos soon.” Morgan leaned against the white carriage’s upholstery. “Aah, so soft,” he said with a happy smile.

“You don’t look worried at all, though,” said Almark.

He didn’t mean to blame Morgan, but hearing this made Morgan look a bit apologetic.

“I am worried about her, but I just try not to think about the bad stuff too much.”

“You do, huh?”

“Yeah.” Morgan nodded. “I’m not that smart, so even if I think and worry really hard about something, it won’t solve anything.” He then glanced outside. “But on the other hand, if I just try to act like nothing’s wrong, answers have a way of presenting themselves.”

“They do?” Almark echoed, baffled.

Morgan’s approach came across as something utterly incompatible with his, since he’d cleaved open his own path so far. The destination of a journey doesn’t walk over to you—you have to reach it.

“You might not get it, Almark.” Morgan still looked apologetic. “You’re strong.”

“I’m…not, really,” Almark started to say, but then he fell silent when someone besides them raised their voice.

“No, no!”

The sudden shout made all the passengers turn and look at the speaker. It was a girl, about five or six years old. She must have been from some wealthy family, because she was dressed in very fancy clothes. Her hair was done beautifully, and she had large, doe-like eyes that would have made her adorable most of the time. But at that moment, she was throwing a tantrum and shaking her head at the aging man sitting beside her.

“I said no!” the girl spat. “It’s her or nothing!”

“Milady…” The older man looked positively stumped. “I understand, but the carriage has already departed.”

“It’s your fault, Braun!” The girl glared at him accusingly. “You didn’t check!”

“I truly thought she was packed in your bag.” Braun cast down his eyes apologetically. “Forgive me, milady.”

Having overheard their exchange without really intending to, Almark and Morgan exchanged glances.

“Milady, huh?” Morgan whispered. “I guess it makes sense. This is a white carriage, so of course there’s a rich little girl here.”

“True.” Almark nodded. “The man with her must be her servant.”

“Traveling with a rich girl must be hard work. You’d probably need to wait on her hand and foot.” Morgan glanced at the little girl castigating Braun. “Did they forget to bring something?”

“Apparently,” Almark answered, his interest in the two already fading.

He looked back out the window, his thoughts once again occupied by Wendy and the mercenary threat. That’s why he was shocked when he saw Morgan approach the man and the little girl.

“Did you forget something?”

Morgan’s innocent question halted the pair’s conversation, and they turned to look at him.

“Oh, yes, our apologies for the racket,” said Braun. “We’ve just got a bit of a personal situation.”

“Myusha is missing!” said the girl at his side.

“Milady…,” Braun said, looking troubled.

“Myusha?” Morgan blinked. “Is that your cat’s name?”

“It’s a stuffed toy,” Braun explained. “A stuffed bear, to be exact. Milady here adores it.”

“Myusha is not a toy!” the girl cut in. “Myusha is Myusha!”

“Yes, milady.” Braun’s expression turned sour. “My apologies.”

“How did Myusha go missing?” Morgan asked.

The girl angrily thrust out a bundle of cloth at Morgan. “He confused her for this!”

She was holding a bunch of colorful cloth scraps.

“Um…”

Morgan was at a loss as to how to respond, but Braun kindly stepped in.

“The real Myusha was left behind in our estate in Garenthol.”

“My bag was heavy, so I thought she was inside!” said the girl, looking absolutely chagrined. “I didn’t know this was inside instead!”

“I believe another servant had these excess fabrics for some other purpose,” Braun added. “They ended up packed in milady’s bag and were consequently confused for Myusha.”

“Oh, I see.” Morgan nodded and reached out. “Can I take a look at that?”

“Keep it.” The girl shoved the bundle of cloth into Morgan’s hands. “It’s just rags.”

“May I?” Morgan looked up at Braun, who nodded.

“If you don’t mind,” he said.

“Then if you’ll excuse me…” Morgan pulled the bundle of cloth to his lap.

“Hey, Morgan.” Almark tapped his shoulder. “What are you going to do with this thing?”

“Hm?” Morgan blinked. “I’m not doing anything with it.”

“Huh?” Almark frowned.

Morgan grinned and whispered, “I’ve got a little sister her age, so I just know. Girls like her calm down when someone listens to them.”

“I mean, sure, but…” Almark shook his head, seeing the girl continue ranting at Braun, her anger not at all placated. “Maybe we shouldn’t get involved.”

Almark cast his gaze out the window. The rural landscape had at some point been replaced by verdant plains. White carriages were swift, but there was still a long way to Miletos. Almark felt anxiety brew in the pit of his stomach.

“If anything, you’re the one who isn’t being himself today,” Morgan said.

Almark turned to look at him. “Huh?”

Morgan unwrapped the fabric and smiled at Almark. “I mean, if someone’s in trouble, you’d normally be the first one to step in and help.”

Almark stared at Morgan, at a loss as to how to reply, and Morgan balled up the cloth again, humming to himself.

“But you’re concerned about Wendy. I get that. You know a lot more scary stuff than I do, and that’s got you even more worried.”

The fabric changed shape little by little in Morgan’s hands. Almark noted how deft he was with the medium.

“I used to make stuff like this for my little sister.” Morgan put the fabric scraps together by color, producing a beautifully colored stuffed bear.

“Wow!” Almark said, peering at it. “It’s got hands and feet and a tail… Even ears.”

“Well, it’s a bear.” Morgan smiled gently. “Almark, can you get me a pen from my bag?”

“Ah, sure.”

Almark handed a pen to Morgan, who used it to draw eyes and a nose on the fabric.

“It’s cute.” Almark sighed. “I wish I had talents like that.”

“It’s not a talent.” Morgan chuckled. “I mean, this is all I’m good for, except eating.”

He handed the bear to the girl.

“He might not be as cute as Myusha…,” he told her. “But he’ll keep you company for the trip.”

Almark noted how the girl’s face lit up.

“He’s so cute!” she squealed.

“Isn’t he?” Morgan grinned. “He’s my masterpiece, if I do say so myself.”

“What’s his name?” the girl asked.

“His name?” Morgan looked taken aback. “Uh…”

“How about Teddy?” Almark suggested, but Morgan and the young girl frowned.

“Too on the nose, Almark,” said Morgan.

“Yeah,” the girl agreed. “He’d be sad with a name like that.”

“O-oh, okay.”

“He needs a cuter name.” Holding up the stuffed bear, the girl was all smiles by now. “I’ll give him one. He’s Will! Myusha’s little brother.”

Seeing her smile, Braun nodded in relief.

“Her little brother, huh? That’s nice.” Morgan nodded cheerfully.

The girl’s mood was much improved, and she chatted with Will the Bear, Morgan, and Almark. The two boys humored her, and as they talked, they learned that her name was Muria and that she was a wealthy merchant’s daughter. Her parents were away for work, and she was living with her servants in their mansion in Garenthol. She was on her way to see her parents, who were working in the town of Linobeth.

“Linobeth… We’ll be getting off on the way there, at Miletos,” said Almark.

Braun nodded. “Miletos, you say? We should arrive there tomorrow afternoon.”

“Aww!” Muria exclaimed in disappointment. “Just when we started getting along! Morgan, stay with us a little longer! Come with us to Linobeth!”

“Ha-ha-ha… I’d love to, but I’m afraid I can’t. Just think of Will as me, all right?”

He picked up the rag doll from Muria’s grasp and motioned its limbs to mimic the gesture of tapping on its chest with its right hand.

“Don’t worry, Muria! You’ve got me!” Morgan said in a slightly high-pitched voice, pretending to be Will the Bear.

Muria grinned again. “Yeah! I’ll introduce you to my mommy, Will!”

“I’m so happy!” Morgan raised Will’s arms and waved them.

Muria laughed happily and hugged Will. “I love you, Will!”

Glancing at Morgan, Almark whispered, “I think I understand what you mean.”

“Huh?” Morgan looked baffled. “About what?”

“It’s like you said. No matter how anxious I get…” Still seated, Almark moved his feet. “No matter how much I stomp my feet inside this white carriage, it won’t go any faster.” He smiled. “We know when we’ll get to Miletos, so I’d be spending my time better watching the situation carefully. It’s such an obvious conclusion, but I forgot it. You helped me realize that.”

“You’re smart, Almark.” Morgan smiled sheepishly. “I didn’t say anything complicated. I’m just saying we should think about all the scary, important stuff when it happens.”

“I’ll take a leaf out of your book, Morgan.” Almark tapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll try to think about fun things, too.”

“Fun things?” Morgan smiled. “Sounds good. There’s plenty of that stuff to think about. Good food tastes best when you eat it together.”

“We’ll be spending the night at a town called Bora today,” said Almark. “We wouldn’t want to look filthy when we meet Wendy, so let’s stay at an inn and wash off there.”

“Good idea. We’d be pretty stinky if we met her after sleeping outdoors,” Morgan agreed. “But first thing we do when we get off at the carriage stop is go get something tasty to eat!”

“I’m in,” Almark said. “I’m sure Wendy’s feeling pretty down, so let’s get her something as a souvenir.”

“Great idea!” Morgan glanced out the window. “Aaah, I can’t wait to see her…”

Their hearts were already in Miletos, by Wendy’s side.

Reunion

The town of Miletos. The central city of the southern reaches of the Baherb domain that spanned northern Garai. In terms of size, it paled in comparison to Nebia, the city that was the center of the Baherb domain’s politics, or Linobeth, which served as its economic hub. But its well-sectored streets and House Baherb’s Winter Villa, built upon a small hill, definitely boasted the Garai Kingdom’s architectural beauty.

As its name implied, the Winter Villa was House Baherb’s vacation home for the winter months. This was where Wendy was staying.

Wendy stood all alone in her empty, spacious room. Snapping the book she was reading shut, she heaved a sigh. It had been nine days since she’d arrived at Miletos, and under Ward’s watchful eye, she was hardly allowed to even step out to the courtyard, spending most of her time indoors.

It was summer vacation, and she longed to bask in the sun but wasn’t allowed to. Bright light streamed in through the window, but its bright glow only served to remind Wendy that she was effectively a caged bird.

If she’d have spent her summer in Garenthol, there were plenty of places she could go and people she could meet. Things she could buy, daily events and exhibitions she could visit. But now that she was returned to Miletos at her father’s word, she couldn’t do anything but spend her days reading and studying.

And even so, there were things she could do in Miletos. Ride horses in the nearby plains, have a picnic on a hill overlooking the lake, fun activities that came to her mind when she was told she was going to Miletos, but Ward adamantly refused.

“Your life is in danger, Lady Wendy. We cannot allow you to leave the manor.”

She understood painfully well that Ward was worried for her well-being, and so she didn’t demand things more forcefully. But what disappointed her the most was that she couldn’t invite Almark and Morgan to visit her in Garenthol.

In a rare display of rebelliousness, Wendy argued against her father’s word and asked to remain in Garenthol, but knew that once her father made up his mind about something, there was no swaying him.

It was probably because of all the harassment they were put through, but even her usually stout mother was visibly shaken and emaciated. When Wendy returned home, her mother said that her presence there helped light up the house, but even she encouraged Wendy to leave for Miletos. And though Wendy was willing to argue against her father’s adamant orders, she couldn’t bring herself to oppose her mother’s haggard plea.

In the end, she only spent a single day with her parents, during which they treated her as kindly as they would a baby. The following day, Wendy left her parents and her two-years-older brother Richard and reluctantly got on the white carriage to Miletos.

She wanted to cry but was able to hold back the tears. She didn’t want to distress her parents any further.

Did the apology letter I sent to Almark and Morgan reach them? Wendy wondered. I bet Morgan is disappointed…

She knew how dejected he was when he found out before exams that he couldn’t go home for the summer. And so Wendy had suggested they come visit her house, which he seemed thrilled about.

His smile was one of pure, innocent joy, without any selfishness or self-interest. For Wendy, as the daughter of a noble, this was unfamiliar and exciting. And for that reason alone, she wanted Morgan to come to Garenthol—so she could see that innocent smile she so enjoyed again.

She didn’t know if he would forgive her, but she wanted to send another apology letter once everything settled down. Or that was the plan, but she never did end up penning that other letter.

And Almark…

Recalling his name made Wendy’s heart throb. That strange boy who’d suddenly come from the distant North. How did he feel about being prevented from visiting her home? Looking back, he didn’t seem to be terribly excited about the idea at first. Wendy knew he needed to spend this summer focusing on his meditation training, and that was why she acted like she didn’t know that and had worded the request in a way that made it seem like he was just tagging along with Morgan.

She wanted to see him in her home. For him to meet her family. And above all else, she didn’t want to go two months without seeing him.

Almark looked put on the spot when she invited him over, but some selfish part of her she didn’t like very much knew that he’d come if she asked him to, so she’d given him a sorrowful frown. Seeing that made Almark flash that kind smile of his and agree to come.

It made her happy.

And maybe this was what she got for putting him on the spot like that. Maybe this was why she had to spend her summer holidays alone.

That thought weighed heavily on Wendy’s heart. Did Almark look even a bit disappointed as he read the letter? Or did he tap Morgan on the shoulder with a half smile like he always did, comforting him that this was just how it worked out this time? Maybe he didn’t think of Wendy at all anymore and was more occupied with meditating every day?

I wouldn’t have invited them over at all if I knew this was how it’d end up going.

This was the thought on Wendy’s mind ever since she’d arrived at Miletos. If she was the only one who had to spend her vacation in boredom, that would be fine, but she felt guilty for getting Morgan’s hopes up. And if Almark read that letter and felt nothing, it would be like him telling her that he only cared that little about her. Of course, this was just how she felt, and he didn’t outright tell her that.

Heaving a sigh—she’d lost count of how many times she’d done that already—Wendy spotted two small figures walking leisurely through the courtyard out the window.

At first, she didn’t realize what this meant. These were familiar figures…but from where? They kind of looked like Almark and Morgan. The two approached the manor slowly, chatting and laughing.

It didn’t register as real in Wendy’s mind. How could they be there? They were supposed to be on Norkh Island, four days via white carriage and coach from Miletos.

They couldn’t have possibly come all the way here.

“Milady! Lady Wendy!”

She heard Ward call out to her from below. How long had it been since she’d heard him sound so cheerful?

“I see Master Almark and Master Morgan, your friends from school!”

Impossible. This can’t be real.

The thought dominated her mind, but the moment she heard Ward say that, all the tears she’d been holding back ran freely down her cheeks.

“Wow! Whoa!” Morgan cheered, seeing the assorted dishes set on the table. “Look at all this food, Almark! Everything looks so delicious!”

“Uh, yeah, it does…,” Almark agreed half-heartedly, not all that interested in the food, but Morgan remained excited.

“What is this meat?! I’ve never had meat that smells so good! Do you have any idea what this is, Almark?!”

“I wouldn’t know, Morgan…”

“Wow! Check this dish out! I dunno what this is, but it’s so pretty! Just looking at it is making me drool! Do you know what this is, Almark?!”

“Again, I wouldn’t have a clue…”

“Ugh! I can’t wait anymore! Ward, can we eat?! I’m gonna start eating!”

“Relax, Morgan! Calm down!” Almark begged.

Ward regarded Morgan’s juvenile enthusiasm with an amused smile. “Master Morgan, I’m pleased to hear such praise for our cooking. Lady Wendy will be joining us momentarily, so please, be patient just a little longer.”

The mention of Wendy’s name was enough to make even Morgan settle down.

“Okay…,” he said obediently, turning to Almark. “I hope Wendy’s all right…”

“Me too. I’m worried about her.”

They were in Miletos, in the Winter Villa’s large guest hall. Or at least, that’s how it looked to the two of them, but maybe it was just a normal dining room here. The two of them didn’t know enough about what nobles’ houses were like to tell.

But either way, they were there now, sitting by a table loaded with an appetizing dinner and waiting for Wendy.

And there was a reason for their concern.

Once their trip on the white carriage was over and they got off at Miletos, they waved goodbye to Muria, who looked loath to part with them, and surveyed the area. After all, Lord Elmond was a major noble and the governor of this vast domain, and if anything were to befall his daughter Wendy, the streets would be buzzing with activity and gossip. But their first impression of Miletos was that it was a peaceful city. While Morgan bought some cookies to snack on, Almark casually asked the shopkeeper some questions, but apparently, he didn’t even know Wendy was in town.

“I guess she’s still fine,” Morgan said as he exited the store, already munching on the cookies. “She probably came here in secret.”

“Yeah.” Almark nodded. “But if she’s here in secret, there’s a chance that something happened, and that’s being kept secret, too. We won’t know she’s safe until we see her.”

“Right. Let’s go find Wendy.”

The boys asked the people in town for directions and found their way to the Baherb manor standing atop a small hill outside of town. As expected, the guards turned them away at the gates.

But when Almark decided that just mentioning Wendy’s name wouldn’t be enough, he mentioned the names of Ward and two other servants, at which point the guards reluctantly called over Lisa, the servant who had helped pick Wendy up on the first day of summer vacation. Lisa approached suspiciously, but upon seeing Almark, she brought a hand to her mouth and looked at him with wide eyes.

“Ah, Master Almark! Goodness! What do I do?!”

Flustered, Lisa said she needed to tell Wendy and Ward the news, at which point the guards finally acted. They offered to show Almark and Morgan the way to the villa, but Almark declined.

“Sorry,” he said. “We just go to the big building ahead, right?”

The two boys then headed to the Winter Villa.

“We made it!” Morgan said.

“We sure did.”

“She said she needs to tell Wendy, right?”

“That’s right.”

The pair exchanged a smile.

“We arrived just in the nick of time!” Morgan said to Almark.

“Looks like it.”

“We really hurried to get here.”

“Well, not us. The white carriage did.”

Almark and Morgan cut through the courtyard, laughing. And then they climbed the few steps leading up to the estate’s large doors…only for them to suddenly swing open. A girl jumped out from the manor, her eyes wide with disbelief.

“Almark, Morgan!”

“Wendy!”

By the time Morgan exclaimed her name, she already had her arms around the two of them, her face covered in tears.

“We came to hang out, Wendy. I hope we’re not intruding,” Morgan said.

“We got your letter, but we decided to come over anyway,” Almark said. “I’m sorry.”

They gave somewhat conflicting testimonies, and Wendy couldn’t manage to even speak. She simply shook her head over and over, embracing her two friends.

“She really cried herself out…,” Almark said with a frown, recalling how Wendy had acted when they reunited. “I’m glad she’s doing well, though.”

Morgan agreed. “She should eat something. You always feel better on a full stomach!”

At that point, Wendy entered the room. Her eyes were still a bit red and puffy, but she had the same cheerful smile Almark recognized from the institute.

“Sorry I kept you two waiting,” she said. “You must be hungry.”

Almark and Morgan exchanged a look, then smiled and nodded.

“Oh, this is great! The food didn’t just look good!” Morgan said gleefully, digging into the food on his plate. “I mean, it happens, you know? You get food that only looks tasty, but when you eat it, you’re like, huh? And that’s not the case here, right, Almark?!”

“Uh, yeah, Morgan. We get it, so swallow before you talk.”

“I’m trying this next! Ooh, wow! I didn’t expect it to taste like this! I mean, it’s yummy, but I didn’t imagine it would be this kind of flavor. Right, Almark?!”

“Yeah. You really don’t need to ask me, though.”

Wendy was happily watching Morgan shovel food into his mouth enthusiastically. As soon as they started eating, Morgan looked at the assorted forks and knives set before him, picked one up and held it high.

“I’m gonna use this one and this one only!” he declared grandly.

Oh no, he doesn’t know table manners at all, Almark thought. He was both alarmed by and impressed with Morgan’s boldness.

A few of the servants frowned, but Wendy laughed, and seeing her like this made Ward wipe tears from his eyes.

It’s a good thing I came here with Morgan, Almark thought in earnest. I’m not able to make people smile like he can. Even without meaning to, Morgan has a way of warming people’s hearts.

“Aren’t you going to eat, Almark?” Wendy asked.

“Yeah, of course. Everything looks great.”

Frankly, Almark wasn’t one to care for food. For a mercenary, flavor was secondary to satiety, and having grown up that way, he couldn’t quite guess at the value of the meal before him. He couldn’t even quite define if it tasted good or not, and in his eyes, all these complex flavors did not really leave much of an impression on his palate.

But Wendy looked so happy at seeing Morgan relish the meal, and Almark didn’t want to let her down, so he brought the fork to his lips.

“What about you, Wendy?” Almark asked. “You won’t feel better if you’re hungry.”

“Just looking at you two is filling me up,” Wendy joked, grinning. “So, tell me, how did you get here?”

“It’s nothing special. We took a white carriage from Garenthol.”

“Hey, Wendy, listen to this! Almark was amazing!” Morgan exclaimed. “He fleeced the money for our white carriage ride from the headmaster!”

“The headmaster?!”

“Morgan, phrasing it like that is going to give her the wrong idea.”

The boys took turns telling her about their trip. Wendy listened to their story attentively, smiling with sincere amusement.

“Oh, right, Almark! Didn’t you have something to give her?” Morgan winked at Almark after they finished their story.

“Ah, yeah.” Almark got to his feet. “Where’s my bag…?”

Ward had one of the servants bring their bags. Almark gratefully accepted his and reached into it.

“Uh… Here.” Almark retrieved a book and held it out to Wendy. “I brought you a present.”

“A book?” Wendy took it, confused. “Thanks. What’s it about?”

She looked at the spine, trying to read the title, while Morgan grinned and pointed at the bookmark.

“Open the book here, Wendy,” he urged.

“Hm?”

“Just do it.”

“All right…” Wendy nervously opened the book. “Ah…”

Between the pages was a vivid blue pressed flower.

“Are you serious…?” Wendy couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “Isn’t this flower…?”

“It was blooming by a brook in the forest on Norkh Island,” Almark said. “You said you wanted to see one of these, right?”

“Once he found that flower, Almark got super motivated! He was like, ‘We have to go see Wendy!’”

“Morgan, don’t tell her about that…”

“But it was amazing! You just went straight to the dorms and started planning things out with a map, and then you weaseled money out of the headmaster!”

“I told you, don’t put it like that. It’ll give her the wrong idea.”

While Almark and Morgan joked and exchanged jabs, they waited to see how Wendy would react to the pressed flower.

“Summerwater hollyhocks…,” she whispered.

The symbol of summer on Norkh Island. And to her, it was the symbol of what summer break used to be before this one. And after she’d resigned herself to not looking forward to the summer, the friends she thought she wouldn’t see during the break showed up with this in hand.

Her eyes, fixed on the pressed flower, filled with tears that dropped onto the pages of the book.

“Honestly, you two… How many times are you going to make me cry today?!”

Morgan and Almark frowned with concern. Wendy smiled at them happily through her tears.

“Thank you both… I’m so happy.”

The two boys smiled back in relief.

Before dinner, Almark told Ward about the mercenaries he ran into in Garenthol and how he and Morgan overheard them mention killing Wendy.

“How terrible.” Ward was aghast. “They already have such a meticulous plan in play?”

“Yes. They could strike as early as tomorrow. How many guards are there at this manor?” Almark asked.

“Lord Elmond sent many guards to secure Lady Wendy’s person. We have twenty men hired just to protect the grounds.”

Twenty people. Almark frowned; that probably wasn’t enough. Since this was a peaceful city and not a battlefield, the enemy had to lie low, meaning there couldn’t be that many of them—likely ten people, at best. So numerically speaking, twenty warriors were sufficient. But none of the twenty people guarding this manor actually lived and breathed war. And besides…

“Given the size of this place, I don’t think that’s enough guards,” Almark said.

“Indeed. Especially if the enemy has a clear plan of attack,” Ward agreed. “I will double the number of guards on duty. But if I summon guards from all over the domain, it’ll take them some time to arrive. What shall we do until then?” Ward furrowed his brows. “Shall we move Lady Wendy elsewhere?”

“No, you shouldn’t do that.”

“Why?”

“This manor is already being watched. When I climbed the hill on the way here, I saw two suspicious travelers who didn’t look like locals. They’re probably stationed to monitor the villa.”

“My word.” Ward was horrified again.

“Sending Wendy away would just be playing into their hands. They’ve already scoped out all the spots where they’d have an advantage. Anywhere they can corner her, where she’d have a hard time running, where they’d be able to surround her.”

That’s what I would do, if I was them.

“Master Almark, you…”

“Ward, I’ll give you some suggestions for what we can do right now. Firstly, there aren’t enough lights around the manor and garden. Lamps, lanterns—it doesn’t matter. Having bright light shining outward will make it harder for enemies to approach.”

“…I see.” Ward nodded, overwhelmed.

“Another problem is that the outer walls are too low.”

“They’re taller than an adult.”

“That’s not enough. A mercenary could easily scale that. You should set up an abatis along the inner perimeter of the walls before they get it.”

“…My apologies. What is an abatis?”

“Oh, uh, they’re obstacles to block paths in castles and fortresses. They’re made using sharpened wooden sticks. Set them up directly behind the perimeter.”

“I see. Would that make it harder for the enemy to get over the walls?”

“Yes. Can you do that?”

“We have plenty of firewood for kindling. We’ll try to make something that fits your description.”

“Thank you.”

“Oh, I should be thanking you, Master Almark. I’m afraid I’m not an expert on such matters.”

After confirming a few more things to be improved, Ward summoned the servants and started doling out instructions: Fortify security, install lights, build an abatis, send a runner to Garenthol.

After swiftly finishing his orders, he turned to Almark. “Master Almark, I must ask you to keep this matter a secret from Lady Wendy. I will tell her when the time is right, but for now, I want her to enjoy her time with you,” he said apologetically.

“…I understand.”

Almark nodded. On the way here, he and Morgan had come to a similar conclusion, that they should avoid telling Wendy about the assassination plot and let Ward handle the situation.

“Dinner will be ready shortly. Please, this way.” Ward ushered Almark into the hall, and Almark followed.

After dinner, Wendy took Almark and Morgan to the cushy parlor sofa, where they sat and chatted. Morgan’s eyes lit up when he saw the tea cakes Ward brought in. As they snacked on the tea cakes, the two shared stories they hadn’t covered about their trip here. Seeing her smile and laugh from their stories made Almark keenly feel that he was happy he’d decided to come here.

At some point, their conversation pivoted from their trip to the institute, which offered them no end of things to talk about. Wendy giggled at every turn, and Morgan was always cheerful, and Almark—influenced by the two of them—laughed, too. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever laughed this much.

I wish these fun times would never end.

Maybe his intuition as a mercenary’s son beckoned this thought. He knew this moment would soon come to an end, bringing his wish to the forefront.

Indeed, the three friends’ pleasant time together met a sudden end when a cacophony erupted in the courtyard.

Chapter 3

The lives of others were his sustenance. He didn’t know how long he’d been that way.

The only life that mattered was his own, and the lives of other people were but a means to secure his livelihood. And so he made it a point to avoid any killing that didn’t earn him a profit. It wasn’t out of shallow ideas of philanthropy, and he wasn’t one to show mercy to begin with. He simply reduced killing without profit down to its most literal meaning—killing that produced no benefit. He wasn’t going to waste his strength on that.

But if killing someone would benefit him, he’d gladly do it. Benefit him monetarily, he should say. All living things in the world were in one of two categories: lives worth their weight in coin, and lives worth nothing. Whether those lives were of women or children didn’t matter much. If their deaths lined his pockets, he’d do it. If they didn’t, he wouldn’t spare them a single look. That was the kind of reasoning any mercenary abided by.

Such were the thoughts of mercenary Gizarte, once known in the North by his alias, the Silver Skull. The group he led, the Bloodshed Mercenaries, suffered a major defeat in battle and were wiped out. They’d been a small group, not large enough to function as a singular unit on a battlefield. That meant that they risked total defeat if they bet on the wrong side, but Gizarte took pride in always betting on the winning horse.

That day, however, Gizarte made the wrong choice for the first time. He never imagined the feared Fire Drake Mercenaries, which boasted the largest numbers in the North, would have one of its units crumble with such ease.

From the perspective of the Fire Drakes, that defeat was an unfortunate but acceptable loss. They may have lost some of their numbers, but the mercenary group as a whole didn’t lose much. But for the Bloodshed Mercenaries, this was a catastrophic defeat, and they took losses from which they could not recover.

Mercenary groups weren’t known for their discipline, but the Bloodshed Mercenaries had an especially poor reputation. This meant that many other mercenaries begrudged them, and the survivors of that battle couldn’t make do by joining other groups. With their livelihoods at risk and even their safety compromised, they had to give up on life in the North.

As Gizarte was wondering whether to try his luck as a bandit in the central plains, an unexpected job request came his way. A noble from a Southern kingdom called Garai came knocking, asking to harass a rivaling aristocrat. Trifling compared to the kind of work he engaged in up north, but the pay was exceptionally high.

Disguised as ordinary travelers, Gizarte and the surviving Bloodshed Mercenaries traveled to the South and arrived at the Garai Kingdom. Leaving a detachment of five men in the capital city of Garenthol, Gizarte led the remaining seven to Miletos. The men he sent in as monitors reported that security was sparse enough that they could claim the life of the noble girl they were after as soon as he gave the word.

But even so, their client requested that they wait until the target let down their guard, and despite feeling that this was the reasoning of an amateur who knew nothing of the subtleties of war, Gizarte followed instructions. After all, following orders he thought were foolish was an everyday occurrence up north, and playing the part of a blind pawn while protecting one’s interests was a necessary skill for any mercenary commander.

He’d show deference to his client while doing what needed doing.

But today, things changed. He got word that two strange children had entered the manor, after which the air about the place changed. The garden was lit up with lamps, and the guards started patrolling more aggressively. Watching their activity from a grove that overlooked the manor, Gizarte quickly understood what they were doing.

“They’re gearing up for a siege,” he said.

The man at his side—the ace of the Bloodshed Mercenaries Deran the Bloodied Axe—turned his eyes to him. “A siege?” Deran asked.

“Yeah.”

This reminded Gizarte of siege battles in the North. And wearing down a fortified, prepared fort with so few men would be difficult.

“Why did everything take a turn when those brats came in? Who are they?” Deran demanded.

“I dunno, but I can tell you our chance is slipping away by the minute here.” Gizarte looked over to the Winter Villa, now fully lit up.

“Shit, we could’ve finished this as early as yesterday!” Incensed, Deran punched a nearby tree, and the two axes on his back made a dull metallic clatter.

“…We do it tonight,” Gizarte said quietly. “It’ll be too late by tomorrow. But tonight we might be able to just barely pull it off.”

“But orders from above said to wait until the day after tomorrow. Right? You sure you wanna take matters into your own hands?”

Gizarte spat bitterly. “What, you want us to be good boys and wait two more days? The guards will just raid us when we’re in bed, and then we’ll be straight to the gallows.”

The target appeared to be gearing up for a siege, which meant they knew about the mercenaries’ raid. If Gizarte and his men sat by and did nothing, the authorities would end up finding them. The noble who Gizarte and his band were going up against was that influential.

“At this point, striking before they’re ready for us is our best option.”

Thankfully, the manor hadn’t added any more people to their numbers, save for the two brats. And anyone who could fight on the target’s side was an amateur.

“My veteran’s intuition hasn’t withered yet,” Gizarte said, before turning to face Deran with a cruel smirk. “Deran, gather the men. We go to battle.”

Deran sneered. “Talking like you’re still a mercenary captain, are you? The Bloodshed Mercenaries are already long gone.”

Gizarte, however, regarded him with a thin smile. “Once we make a fortune in the South, we’ll go back to the North and start a new group.”

Deran scowled and spat in displeasure. “Spare me the bad jokes. I’ve had enough of living in that hell.”

“You know I wasn’t serious.” Gizarte shrugged. “Who’d be dumb enough to form another mercenary group? It’s a pain in my ass.”

“Then we’ll have to find a better use for that money,” Deran said. He seemed to remember something and added, “But you’re right that there’s not much demand for us in the South.”

“Yeah. Not much of a market for our kind. Besides…” Gizarte nodded. “…We’ll be wanted men if we outstay our welcome here.”

This wasn’t the land they hailed from; the free, cruel winds of the North didn’t blow here. All Gizarte felt in the South was the lukewarm, stagnant air of a quagmire, its movements too sluggish to even be called wind.

“We can’t afford to lose our financial backing. We gotta make ourselves useful and earn enough to feed ourselves each month. And if the employer won’t do that, we can threaten to expose him as the mastermind behind this whole deal.”

“There it is, the Gizarte special.” Deran cackled. “Did you forget that sucking your employers dry is how we ended up hated and with nowhere to go in the North?”

“Not like I miss that hellhole,” Gizarte said, with intentional crudeness.

If the Northern wind won’t blow for us anymore, we just gotta survive here.

“Hurry up and call the boys.”

Deran gave a crude “yeah, yeah” and turned on his heels lazily.

Hearing his comrade’s receding footsteps, Gizarte kept his eyes fixed on the Winter Villa, his expression stern.

Having gathered his seven mercenary comrades, including the two monitors, Gizarte gave the brief order to go and began sprinting toward the manor. The men followed him wordlessly. As they neared the perimeter, Deran ran ahead of Gizarte. Upon reaching the walls, he turned and faced his approaching comrades.

“Boyd,” Gizarte called to one of the men, and a small-statured mercenary ran toward the wall at full speed.

Deran crouched and thrust out his hands, which Boyd used as a foothold to hop atop the walls with a single jump.

Soon after getting over the wall, Boyd leaned out to call out to them, his long shadow cast outside the walls, illuminated by the lanterns outside the manor.

“They set up an abatis!” Boyd announced.

Gizarte clicked his tongue. They were able to set this up this fast? Who put the idea in their heads?

“Look for a spot where we can get down!” Gizarte called out to him.

Boyd nimbly ran atop the wall without so much as stumbling and stopped at a point slightly ahead. “There’s a gap over here!” he said and hopped down to the inner side of the walls.

“Good. Do it,” Gizarte ordered.

Deran ran over to the spot Boyd got off in and put out his hands again, boosting his comrades up onto the wall one after another. They all landed on the other side with heavy thuds, which likely alerted the guards inside.

Not a problem, Gizarte thought.

The moment he made up his mind about resorting to such a forceful charge, he was prepared to throw away all notions of discretion.

Gizarte was the second to last one to jump up the wall with Deran’s help. His field of vision opened up at once, giving him an unobstructed view of the manor.

The last man to jump up landed beside him, and the two helped pull up Deran. The other five didn’t wait for them and began sprinting to the manor along the shortest path there.

Gizarte confidently hopped off the wall. There weren’t that many abatis yet, with gaps here and there. If they’d waited until tomorrow, there would have been more, making infiltration that much harder.

I was right to make the call to attack tonight, Gizarte confirmed. I dunno who gave the people here this idea, but I outsmarted them. I made the wrong choice once in my life, but never again.

The manor’s guards hurried out with staves and swords in hands, determined to stop the intruders, shouting loudly and demanding to know what was going on. Boyd ran ahead of the group and cut down one of the guards, while Gizarte gave Deran one swift order: “Go.”

They’d need Deran to smash through the large front doors. Gizarte, meanwhile, took one of his subordinates and ran to the back entrance. But just then, more guards emerged there. There were four of them, and they all carried short spears.

Solid judgment, Gizarte remarked to himself.

Rather than arming these amateurs with swords they wouldn’t know how to put to good use, giving them longer weapons would at least let them fight, while leveraging better range. The butler running this house was shrewd for a Southerner.

The four held their spears at the ready, trying to keep Gizarte and his men at bay. But unfortunately, they were clearly rattled. Seeing their posture, Gizarte shook his head. They couldn’t kill anyone like that.

Without hesitation, Gizarte approached the tips of their spears. Under the light of the burning lanterns, he bore the ghastly smile that had earned him his moniker, the Silver Skull.

“Aah!”

One guard let out a shout of either zeal or terror and thrust his spear. And then blood splattered. Gizarte crouched, avoiding the spear, and took a sharp step forward, drawing his sword from his waist and severing the guard’s arms.

The three other guards retreated a step back, having lost the advantage of range afforded to them by their spears, but with the same grin, Gizarte took another step forward and swung his sword, stabbing through another guard’s throat.

Then he took another step. And another. With each one, blood sprayed through the air, and by the time Gizarte lowered his sword, three fresh corpses littered the ground.

“I hate profitless murder.” He clicked his tongue in annoyance.

Killing you fools doesn’t earn me a single copper coin. This wouldn’t have happened if you steered clear of me, but you had to go and make me waste my time. If you’re that scared, hide in the corner like cowards and don’t show yourselves.

“Still as sharp as ever, Captain,” said Gizarte’s subordinate as he finished off the man who’d lost his arms. “You sure you don’t wanna go back to fighting up north?”

“Quiet, we don’t have time for banter.”

Gizarte himself was confident that in terms of sword skill, he was as good as a mercenary group’s ace. This was how he was able to survive the battle that left his group with crippling losses, after all. But he knew all too well that a mercenary’s might wasn’t determined by just how good they were with the sword.

“The girl we’re after is on the third floor, right?”

“Yeah, we spotted her looking down at the courtyard. She’s definitely there.”

Looking over at the front gate, he saw the rest of his men cutting down the other guards. Deran the Bloodied Axe swung the weapons he owed his name to, sending a guard flying back in a crimson splatter. He then lumbered over to the large doors.

One young guard, his expression pained and tragic, thrust his spear forward, but Deran used one axe to block the spear and the other to split the man’s skull.

Maintaining that momentum, he started bashing the large doors down with his axe. It was only a matter of time until the doors would shatter, so all that remained was ensuring that the girl didn’t slip away.

“Don’t get careless, boys!” Gizarte shouted at Deran’s group and moved to the back entrance.

The back entrance proved surprisingly solid, and it took Gizarte and his men a while to bash it down and set foot in the manor. Indeed, it was quite a luxurious home, but it wasn’t a castle or fort. It wasn’t built to impede intruders, and once the mercenaries were inside, there wasn’t much reason for them to get lost.

“For all we know, Deran already has the girl’s head by now,” the man behind Gizarte grumbled.

“Doesn’t matter who does it, so long as it’s done,” Gizarte said as he swiftly walked through the hall.

Along the way, he spotted the corpse of a servant woman and grimaced. A blow to the back killed her. Probably Deran’s axe. The woman probably didn’t resist, making this a needless killing and a waste of time. For all Deran knew, the girl could have fled to safety while he was doing this.

“Upstairs.”

Gizarte climbed the stairs. The second floor was also littered with the bodies of dead servants.

“Seriously, what are these men doing…? What are they, babies on their first day on the battlefield?”

All over the halls were servant corpses, carved up and slaughtered without distinction of age or gender. There were probably twenty of them just on this floor.

Gizarte recognized one of the corpses—it was the loyal old butler who’d escorted the girl from Garenthol. His eyes were wide open, staring blankly into space in terror.

Gizarte sighed. “What a colossal waste of time…”

Veterans from the Bloodshed Mercenaries, needlessly taking lives that aren’t worth a single coin, with their target so close at hand? Howdoes killing these people profit us? What if the girl escapes while they’re wasting our time? Do I have to teach those idiots how to do this all over again?

“Look at this spectacle,” one of Gizarte’s man said gleefully. “If we kill every one of ’em, we’ll be able to take all the valuables here.”

True enough. But you can start worrying about that after we do what we came here for.

“I just hope we don’t find piles of corpses on the third floor, too,” Gizarte spat.

He climbed up the steps, fed up. But upon arriving on the third floor, Gizarte ran into something unexpected. A familiar, scrawny, small-built man.

“…Boyd.”

The subordinate who jumped over the perimeter—he was lying on the floor just ahead of the stairs. He was dead.

“…This was instant.”

He had been decapitated. That one fatal injury was the only wound he’d suffered.

“Dammit, Boyd, you screwed up,” said one of Gizarte’s men.

Did he screw up, though? Gizarte wondered. Even if he did, Boyd was no slouch. How did he get his head cut clean off? There shouldn’t be anyone that good in here.

Looking around suspiciously as he walked down the corridor, Gizarte spotted another body, then another, and another. All of them were of his subordinates.

“What in the hell…?” one of his men croaked.

Gizarte felt the same way. What was this? What was happening? His mercenary’s intuition was alarming him—something was off.

What’s going on? This job was supposed to be child’s play. We killed all the guards easily; there should only be measly servants inside. Thenwhy are my men dropping like flies? Does this manor have a bodyguard that strong? None of the reports mentioned anything of the sort.

…It can’t be.

It flashed in his mind again—the same feeling he’d had that day. The day the Bloodshed Mercenaries were destroyed. The feeling he got when he saw the Fire Drakes collapse in the face of a greater force. When the black-armored cavaliers, despite an overwhelming numerical disadvantage, mowed down his red-armored comrades one after another, killing his men before his eyes.

The feeling of his unit facing a powerful opponent while completely defenseless. Of having a threat that exceeded all expectations, a threat he couldn’t hope to deal with, face him.

Impossible. Was I wrong? Did I make the wrong call again?

Deran stood at the door right in front of them. He had his two axes held up at the ready, and by his side was another one of their men. There were four survivors, himself included. And standing in front of the door, blocking their path with a sword that seemed much too large for him was a single…child?

“A brat?” Gizarte growled.

“I’m no brat,” the boy said, fixing Gizarte with a glare. Something about those eyes felt familiar to Gizarte. “I am a warrior.”

Gizarte stared in shock.

Seeing the moment the boy turned his eyes to Gizarte as an opening and a chance, the man beside Deran took a swift step forward and brought his sword down on the child. It was a heavy slash, one that looked like excessive force against a boy. And indeed, the boy didn’t move. Gizarte was confident his subordinate had cut the boy down.

But the attack only swept through empty air. And at the same time, the mercenary crumpled to the floor, blood spewing from his neck.

It wasn’t that the boy couldn’t move. Gizarte realized what had just happened. He willingly didn’t move. All he needed to dodge that slash was the most minimal of movements, a slight swaying of the body, and he’d timed it with his counterattack.

“You’re a Northerner,” Gizarte said. The boy looked straight at him. “A mercenary at your age? Did the people here hire you?”

That was the only explanation. The boy’s eyes, however, flared with anger.

“I’m…”

And then his face took on the youthfulness of a child his age.

“…her friend.”

“Friend?” Gizarte cocked an eyebrow. That was an unexpected word to hear in this situation. “A Northern mercenary, friends with a Southern noble’s daughter? If you’re gonna lie, make up something convincing.”

“If you’re a mercenary,” Deran cut in, “you must’ve been in a group. Where’re you from? What’s your name?” His eyes were wide with anger and curiosity.

Northern mercenaries were always like this. The moment they heard someone was a mercenary, they demanded to hear what group they were from and who they fought. They couldn’t go without confirming that.

The boy seemed confused by the question for a moment. The man at Gizarte’s side was about to react to that, but Gizarte held up a hand to stop him. The boy’s reaction wasn’t an opening. Coming at him now would just be what happened a minute ago all over again.

After some hesitation, the boy seemed to have steeled himself.

“I’m Almark, son of Reiz the Shadow Fang, the vice-captain of the Black Wolf Riders.”

“The Shadow Fang…!” Deran exclaimed in shock.

Gizarte also realized why the boy’s eyes struck him as familiar. “That black devil that broke through the Fire Drakes and destroyed my Bloodshed Mercenaries…”

The man who led the charge. Who remained composed, unintoxicated by bloodshed even in the heat of battle, and who oversaw the fighting with something akin to sorrow in his eyes.

“You’re that rotten Shadow Fang’s spawn?!”

The boy’s lips curled into a smile. “So you know my father.”

“Know him?! We have a hell-sized bone to pick with him!”

“Is he doing well?”

“Huh?!”

“No, I guess that’s not a question for right now.” The boy shook his head.

Deran spat bitterly. “Gimme the names of mercenaries you’ve fought, brat.”

“…Ninnang the Great Shield, Gheer the Reaper, Angol the Land Shark…”

First-class names all around, eh? Gizarte thought. He glanced over at Deran, who smirked.

“Gizarte,” said Deran. “I’ll lay waste to this pip-squeak.”

Deran was a different kind of mercenary from Gizarte. He was the kind who relished fighting strong, renowned opponents. He’d been upset with himself since they were defeated and driven out of the North, insisting he didn’t want to go back to that “hellhole,” as he called it, but that was just him crying sour grapes. The moment a powerful opponent presented himself, his blood surged with the will to fight.

In the end, weaklings like the guards they killed in the garden weren’t enough to satisfy Deran’s mercenary bloodlust. He was aching for a good fight.

“I’m the ace of the Bloodshed Mercenaries, Deran the Bloodied Axe.”

“The Bloodshed Mercenaries… I’ve heard of them.”

Almark was implying that he hadn’t heard of Deran.

“Well, you better remember my name. Because it’s the name of your last opponent.” Deran inched closer. “Almark, son of Reiz the Shadow Fang, was it? You’re strong for a kid, I’ll give you that. But a brat’s still a brat.”

Almark silently held up his longsword, keeping its tip aimed at Deran’s forehead. And then Deran turned into a whirlwind of destruction. His two axes spun, bearing down on Almark with the intensity of pouncing beasts.

Almark jumped out of the way, but Deran’s follow-up was swift. The dual axes traveled at an irregular trajectory, grazing by Almark’s body. Using his sword to intercept the axe, Almark twisted his body left and right to dodge, but Deran kept up the assault. Axe clashed with sword repeatedly, the sharp clanging repeating as sparks sprayed into the air.

Dual axes against a single sword, supplemented by Deran’s hulking form delivering slashes that were each lethal in strength. Deran clearly held the offensive edge, with Almark forced on the defensive. The boy failed to fully dodge an attack, and blood oozed from his cheek.

But it was then, at the moment when it seemed the boy was injured, that Almark’s longsword wove through the gap in the axes’ onslaught and slashed at Deran. The larger mercenary used one axe to block the attack and the other to counterattack. Almark swiftly dodged it and delivered another potent slash.

The battle raged on, with the combatants swiftly changing positions. The axe brushed against the door, leaving large cracks in it. The loud clanging of the weapons meeting began to change in tone.

Gizarte clicked his tongue. At first, Deran was purely on the offensive, but as the battle went on, as Almark began to strike back, the rate of how often they launched attacks gradually became even—meaning that at this rate, the tables would completely turn in Almark’s favor.

They didn’t have time to just stand here and watch this. Gizarte’s eyes signaled to his subordinates. Deran blocked Almark’s longsword with an axe, in a shower of sparks, and the boy had to hop away to kill the momentum of the attack. This left the space in front of the door open before Gizarte.

“Now!”

Gizarte and his men moved in. The subordinates swooped in on Almark, while Gizarte himself made a beeline for the door, ramming it with all his might. The door flung open with a dull creak, and Gizarte stormed into the room.

He felt a breeze. The window was wide open. A chill ran through him for a second—did the girl escape through the window? But then he saw his mark was still here. She stood near the window, her gentle features stiff with fear. It was definitely her. He’d seen her in Garenthol once.

“Oh, I’ve been looking forward to seeing you,” Gizarte said, sneering. This was the one life he needed to claim in this entire raid.

He charged in, sword held overhead. The girl was about to shout something, but he didn’t give her the time to do it. With a single swing, he lopped off her head. As it rolled to the floor, Gizarte picked it up like a prize. Job complete. This meant there was no need to tangle with that crazy brat anymore.

“Morgan, now!” Almark shouted from outside.

And at that moment, a pudgy boy hopped out of a blind spot in the room. He had a staff in hand.

Right, the monitors said there were two brats, Gizarte recalled.

The plump boy stuck out his staff, and Gizarte found himself floating in the air, an intense gale whipping around him.

“Wha—?!”

A mage?! Who in the hell are these kids?!

The gale blew Gizarte out the open window. He went plummeting down from the third floor, the girl’s severed head still in hand.

As an enemy charged at him, Almark could see the commander of the group storm into Wendy’s room. Dodging the enemy’s slash, he cut him down.

“Out of my way!” Deran shouted and swung his axes.

Dodging them by the breadth of a hair, Almark counterattacked with a thrust strong enough to make Deran stumble. Almark glanced at the room just in time to see Wendy’s head cut off. It was a nasty sight.

I’m sorry. Wendy. I wish we didn’t have to do this.

Almark shook off this fleeting emotion.

“Morgan, now!” he shouted.

Morgan, who’d been trembling just a second ago, bravely came out and produced a gale spell. The mercenary captain was blown back and sent hurtling out the window.

“Good job, Morgan!” Almark called out into the room and slashed at Deran again.

The man blocked him with an axe, so Almark slashed again. And again and again, unleashing a swift flurry of slashes. The speed of his attacks was on a whole other level compared to everything that preceded this. Deran, who had so far been able to deliver some counterattacks, was now forced to defend with both axes.

“You sneaky little…!” Deran grimaced.

This can’t be, Deran thought. I’d understand if getting fatigued made him go slower, but it’s like he’s getting quicker with each attack.And every blow he strikes gets heavier, too! What in the blasted hell is this kid?!

But then Almark’s slashes gained even more speed.

This makes no sense!

Even with two axes, Deran was unable to keep up with an opponent armed with one sword. The blade slashed through his shoulder, lacerating him down to his stomach.

“Kha…!”

He gritted his teeth, blood spilling from his mouth. He needed to attack. He had to attack before he was completely overwhelmed.

“Gaaah!”

But as he raised his axes with a swing, Almark delivered a ruthless blow with his sword, running straight through his chest. Deran’s axes crashed to the floor.

“I lost to…a damn brat…”

“Deran the Warrior,” Almark said quietly. “The one who defeated you was Almark the Warrior.”

Deran’s eyes widened in disbelief. Deran the Warrior—he hadn’t been called that in years. It made his heart throb.

Right, I’m…

Deran realized that for all his boasting about not wanting to return to the North, he sought to die a warrior. He felt deep down that if the only fate he had left was to languish here in the lukewarm winds of the South, he’d much rather die in battle. His life as a mercenary didn’t go the way he wanted, but in the end, the gods of the North sent an absurd warrior his way. Perhaps the warrior was young and immature, but if this battle contributed to his growth, maybe this wasn’t a bad way to go.

“…You have my thanks, Almark the Warrior.”

Did he actually manage to say those last few words? Deran couldn’t tell if they even reached the boy.

Almark withdrew his longsword, and Deran crumpled to the floor.

Gizarte had been thrown from the third floor, but fortunately, he landed on a thicket that broke his fall, and so he wasn’t terribly injured.

“Dammit…!”

Cursing under his breath, he rolled out of the thicket and hopped to his feet. He could still move just fine. Sheathing his sword, he lifted the girl’s head with his left hand. Deran and the others were probably done for, meaning all his men were dead. But he did complete the job. He could always gather more people. All that remained was to make his retreat.

But the moment he took a few steps toward the wall, he noticed something was wrong in his left hand. The girl’s head had, at some point, changed to a broken vase.

“What?!” Gizarte exclaimed in disbelief as Almark landed gracefully before him and turned to face him.

“That just leaves you,” Almark said.

Gizarte already knew this and didn’t care.

“What did you do, you brat?!”

The Silver Skull glared at Almark, his expression screwed up in anger.

Almark, meanwhile, looked back at him expressionlessly. “I wouldn’t let the likes of you lay a hand on her.”

Gizarte realized that the whole time, he was dancing to this boy’s tune.

“You really did me dirty…” Gizarte tossed the vase at Almark’s feet. It shattered against the flagstones, and Almark didn’t even try to avoid it. “Both you and your father are like the plague to me. Like shitty father, like shitty son.”

He recalled a verse often hummed in the North.

“…Beware Jerus the Black Wolf. For his shadow has a single fang…”

“You mean Father,” said Almark.

The Black Wolf Riders were known as powerful mercenaries. While the captain Jerus led the main force, there was always a powerful detachment led by his vice-captain Reiz at his back, like a shadow.

“And Reiz had a secret fang of his own,” said Gizarte. Almark looked at him, baffled, only for the mercenary to jerk his chin in his direction. “I mean you.”

What a scary kid.

Gizarte’s anger had flared when he realized the girl’s head was a fake, but he was already calculating the situation calmly.

Going back to kill the girl now would be impossible. I don’t know where the real one is hiding, and I’d need to handle both this brat and the mage boy, with his spells. I don’t have any pawns to move here. This job’s a bust. I made the wrong choice again. But…

Gizarte’s mind churned. That didn’t mean he was doomed to die here.

“…You’ve got no intention of letting me get away, huh?” he asked.

“And you have no intention of giving yourself up, do you?” Almark asked in turn.

“None whatsoever.”

“Then I can’t let you leave. I have to eliminate any threats to my friend.”

“…Then yours is a life I have to take.” Gizarte drew his sword. His survival meant more than anything to him, and he had to kill this brat to protect himself. “I’m forcing my way out of here.”

“Gizarte the Silver Skull. You’re a worthy opponent.”

Gizarte felt a chill of unease creep through him. “I never gave you my name.”

He didn’t boast like a warrior the way Deran did, nor did he waste his time telling his marks his name.

“How do you know my name?”

“I know you,” Almark answered. “Most Northern mercenaries do. My father told me bedtime stories about you and your Bloodshed Mercenaries’ foul exploits.”

“Ha.” Gizarte sneered. “Foul exploits. Yeah, that’s what I figured.”

“But my father did acknowledge you. He said you were the lowliest breed of warrior but the finest sort of mercenary.”

Almark’s words could have been interpreted as sarcasm, but his tone was strictly sincere.

“And that’s why, mercenary Gizarte, I will defeat you with respect in my heart.”

“Gee, what an honor…” Gizarte scratched his head, a sardonic smile on his lips.

This way of thinking was something he could never abide by. But hearing it coming from this unbelievably talented boy, with his earnest gaze, felt strangely pleasant.

“Then watch and burn this into your memories before you die: the skills of the Northern mercenary, Gizarte the Silver Skull,” Gizarte said.

He took a slow step forward, and Almark matched him, holding up his longsword. Both faced each other, their swords at the ready. They were still far outside of each other’s striking range, but they stood their ground, not closing that distance. Gizarte knew why—it was because they both knew that getting any closer would be dangerous.

The true worth of Gizarte’s blade technique was in the speed of his footwork. He would carefully inch to the very borderline of their range and swiftly, instantly, accelerate as he swept into the target’s flank and cut them down.

As far as Gizarte could see, Almark’s swordsmanship was distinctive in its ability to perceive the opponent. Based on the fight he saw earlier, the boy read his opponents’ movements, just barely avoiding their attacks, which made his counterattacks frighteningly smooth.

If Almark were to get any closer, he’d be in Gizarte’s range, allowing him to instantly close in on the boy. Conversely, if Gizarte were to elect to get any closer, it would restrict the swift movements that gave him the edge. Almark would be able to read any slow attack he launched and leave Gizarte open to a counterattack.

Each of them had a different range in which they were most effective, but both inched forward ever so slowly, careful to not step into each other’s effective range. The two silently gauged the distance, neither one launching a decisive blow.

Still, it was clear that a prolonged battle would place Gizarte on the back foot. His men were wiped out, and he had no reinforcements on the way. Almark, on the other hand, had his weird mage friend on his side.

Having to deal with a mage while fending off this brat would be impossible. Gizarte calmly analyzed the situation. I can’t afford to dawdle here. I have to change my approach… Let’s go.

Gizarte suddenly inched forward, closing the distance abruptly. It almost felt inappropriate, given how cautious they had been so far. He intentionally opened himself up to Almark’s attack range.

Almark instantly took a step forward and swung his sword down, but there was a momentary lag to Gizarte’s stride.

He fell for it. Gizarte thought. He leaped back, dodging the attack. Now you’re in my range.

Gizarte swiftly strode forward. From Almark’s perspective, it must have felt like the man pulled back only to instantly sweep into his flank.

I win this gamble. You’re mine.

With intense speed, Gizarte slashed with his right hand. His slash was far faster than Deran’s whirlwind of axe blows ever was. He was confident he’d won, but his blow was blocked with a powerful metallic screech.

“What?!” he couldn’t help but exclaim.

Almark’s longsword just barely blocked his slash. Both had narrowed their distance and were close enough to feel each other’s breaths. Gizarte could see every muscle on Almark’s face, the fluff on his skin.

His eyes lingered on Almark’s for one split second, and then the two sprang back, once again taking distance. Having looked into the boy’s eyes, Gizarte could tell. He wasn’t hesitating or afraid whatsoever. There was no anger or fear in his eyes, but he didn’t purely relish combat the way Deran did, either.

It was like his eyes were… Yes…

Almark abruptly stepped forward. Gizarte was just barely able to react and block the powerful slash. But just as Gizarte thought he’d fended him off, Almark’s sword bounced back and made a sweep at Gizarte’s neck. And just as Gizarte was able to avoid that by the skin of his teeth, another slash came down on him from another angle, this time aiming for his shoulder.

Don’t get carried away, boy!

Using his sword to block that slash, he closed in on Almark and rammed into him. Using the advantages of his age and larger physique, he knocked Almark back. It would have been nice to see him tumble for once, but the boy held his ground and quickly recovered his posture.

There was blood dripping from his mouth, but his eyes glinted as sharply as ever. Gizarte gave up on giving pursuit and took a step back, once again holding his distance.

“Nasty little kid.” The words leaked from his mouth.

Almark kept inching forward, carefully gauging their respective ranges, that strange look still in his eyes.

Shit… Gizarte cursed to himself. Clinging to life really is backbreaking work. People who take life for granted really don’t understand.

Gizarte mustered all the strength remaining in him.

I can’t stay calm; if I don’t let instinct take over when necessary, I won’t react in time. Remember it. The air of the battlefield!

“You goddamned brat!”

Hollering crudely, Gizarte swiftly closed in on the boy. The moment his body hurtled forward, he could feel the crisp winds of the North blowing.

Yes. That’s it. It’s this wind.

His timing was perfect. In the blink of an eye, he had slipped into Almark’s flank, swinging his blade with a lethal slash to the throat.

He’d won.

But the moment that thought confidently crossed his mind, Almark blocked it again. And this time, it was a more solid block.

“Why do you keep blocking it?!” Gizarte howled as he hopped away.

“I studied your attack earlier.”

Gizarte stared at Almark, shocked by his answer. Seizing this chance, Almark swooped in on him. His steps were swift. Gizarte was just barely able to block the first slash, then the second, but his intuition warned him that he wouldn’t be able to dodge a third. That’s how intense Almark’s attacks were.

And only when the sword pierced through his chest did Gizarte finally realize. He had no experience with this, so the conclusion couldn’t have dawned on him in time.

The way Almark had been eyeing him since the start of this battle. It was… Yes, it was like…

…a student studying in class.

To him, even I’m just…

Gizarte recalled what Almark had told him at the start of this battle.

“And that’s why, mercenary Gizarte, I will defeat you with respect in my heart.”

…a living textbook with which to study a mercenary.

Almark delivered another slash.

Go on, genius warrior, thought Gizarte. No matter how strong or talented you are, the road you tread is a bloodied one.

In his last moment, Gizarte felt a smile play over his lips.

The Plan

As Gizarte’s lifeless form lay before him, Almark felt sweat break out all across his body.

That was close.

His hands started shaking, albeit belatedly. Gizarte had the edge in ability and experience. If he’d fought him calmly, Almark would have likely lost. But the fact that he failed at his raid, coupled with the fear that Morgan might show up to help, made him rush the fight. This made his attacks simpler and easier to read.

If the slashes Gizarte performed after stepping in were more varied, Almark likely would have failed to block them. But Gizarte was too eager to end the fight quickly, allowing Almark to block them and ultimately win.

…But, Almark thought, that’s how battles work. The outcome doesn’t always come down to skill alone. And this, too, counts as experience.

“Almark!”

Almark turned around. Morgan was hurrying over to him. Upon seeing Gizarte’s dead body, Morgan stopped on the spot.

“Y-you did it.”

“Yes. It’s all thanks to you, Morgan.” Almark smiled. “What about Wendy?”

“She’s probably still asleep on the fourth floor. Ward and the others are watching over her…”

That moment, a large number of servants ran out of the manor, led by the Baherb family’s faithful butler, Ward.

“Master Almark! Are you unharmed?!” he cried.

“Ward, everyone… You’re all right.” Almark grinned at the old butler. “How’s Wendy…?”

“She is yet to awaken… Which only stands to reason, given how hard she worked.”

Almark nodded. “True… She did amazing.”

While Almark, Morgan, and Wendy chatted in the parlor, they heard loud shouting and clattering coming from the courtyard. At that moment, Almark instantly realized what was happening. The good times were at an end—the mercenaries had begun their raid.

“Huh? What was that? Don’t tell me…!” Wendy hurried over to the window.

“Wendy, no!” Almark tried to stop her.

If the enemy had ranged weapons, carelessly approaching the window was dangerous.

“But…”

“The rival your father mentioned probably hired these men,” Almark said. At this point, he had to tell her the truth. “They’re here to kill you.”

Wendy’s face went pale with realization. Almark couldn’t blame her.

“We’ll stop them, Wendy,” he assured her. “You go hide somewhere safe.”

But then Wendy cut in with a declaration he didn’t expect.

“I have to protect everyone!”

Almark was taken aback by her sudden words.

“I won’t let anyone else die!”

Wendy’s eyes flared with anger. Almark never saw her display this much intense emotion. Forgetting that this was an emergency, he couldn’t help but look at her, confused. He could sense currents of intense mana rolling off her. Was it emanating from within Wendy, or was she drawing it from somewhere else? Either way, an unusual amount of mana, greater than anything Almark had seen her produce thus far, was emanating from and enveloping Wendy.

What is this…?

And while Almark was overwhelmed by the sight, Wendy turned around and left the room.

“Almark, what do we do?” Morgan asked fearfully. “The Northern mercenaries are here. We’re all gonna be killed!”

At times like these, panicking was the worst thing they could do. Almark calmed down and picked up his longsword.

“Don’t worry,” he told Morgan. “Between the two of us, we can manage something.”

“The two of us…?”

“Let’s go after Wendy. Morgan, get your staff.”

“R-right!”

They ran down the hall, where they ran into Ward.

“You two, where’s Lady Wendy?” Ward asked.

“She just left the parlor…,” Almark started to say, but at that point, Wendy ran back toward them, staff in hand.

“Lady Wendy!” Ward shouted. “The manor is beset by ruffians! Our guards are holding them back in the garden. You take cover on the fourth floor—!”

“Ward, get everyone to the fourth floor!” Wendy interrupted, waving her staff.

“Ah?!” Ward exclaimed in surprise.

A ceramic pot set in the corridor suddenly morphed into a carbon copy of Ward.

This was a transformation spell. Wendy had recently proved herself successful with it, and it was the most advanced kind of spell students learned in the elementary division.

The pot, now in Ward’s likeness, glanced around idly. It didn’t just look like him; it could move, too.

“Everyone, head upstairs! I’ll make copies of all of you!”

It was a crazy idea. Maybe emanating all that mana left Wendy in a state of confusion. But still, all the mana brewing within her was fearsome in Almark’s eyes. It certainly was more than he’d expect of a girl in the elementary division.

Hearing that Ward and the servants were in mortal danger—them, and not herself—must have awakened the mana slumbering in her. That was the only explanation for this abnormal outburst.

“I won’t let anyone else die!” Wendy shouted.

The fierce expression on her face struck Almark as beautiful.

“Lady Wendy, what are you on about? What becomes of us doesn’t matter. Hurry on up!” Ward shouted back at her in desperation, but Wendy waved her staff again, turning a decorative plant into one of the servants.

“Lady Wendy, please, listen to me!” Ward begged.

But Wendy still wouldn’t lend him an ear. She was fully focused on using her surging mana to weave one spell after another, her reasoning too strained to think rationally. No matter how many copies of the servants she made, it wouldn’t resolve the situation. But Wendy’s will, her desire to not let anyone die, was firm. That alone was enough to unmake the walls limiting her mana, allowing it to run amok.

But seeing her do this made a revelation dawn upon Almark.

“No, Ward, let’s go with her idea!”

“Master Almark?!” Ward stared in shock.

“Wendy, I’ll put my trust in you. I want you to use the transformation spell to make as many copies as you can of the servants. You can do that for us, right?”

Wendy nodded.

“Then first, I want you to make a copy of yourself. The enemy is after you.”

Wendy refused. “I’ll make mine later!”

“No! You have to make your copy first.” Almark wasn’t willing to budge. “We don’t have time, Wendy. Everyone’s lives depend on you.”

Everyone’s lives. Almark believed those words would be the key to influence Wendy’s firm will. And he was right—for one brief moment, the reasoning returned to Wendy’s eyes.

“…All right.”

She waved her staff at a vase, creating a perfect copy of herself.

“There, that should do it, right? Next, Marcus!”

She called one of the servants’ names and turned a chair into his likeness.

“Isha! Mel! Regi!”

With blinding speed, Wendy created copies of her other servants.

“Wow…!” Morgan looked at Almark, stunned. “How is she doing this? The rest of us need a long time just to turn something into a small animal. And when I say us, I mean Wendy, too; she couldn’t do this before summer break. But now she turned things into adults in a split second… I don’t think even the advanced students can manage that!”

“Yeah.” Almark nodded.

He wasn’t sure if even Illmis was capable of it. Just by being next to Wendy, he could tell that what felt like bottomless reserves of mana emanated from her body. And using intense concentration, Wendy was able to control her magic with incredible precision.

But at that moment, she was lacking in proper judgment, meaning she couldn’t wield her magic in stronger, more efficient ways. But that just meant that not letting her magic go to waste was important. And so Almark decided to go along with Wendy’s methods.

“Morgan, I have a plan,” Almark whispered into Morgan’s ear.

Morgan went pale upon hearing the idea. “That’s crazy, Almark!”

“Don’t worry. I can do it.”

By the time they finished talking, Wendy had created copies of the twenty servants working in the manor. Such swiftness and accuracy, coupled with unbelievable mana and concentration.

“Aah, blast, I can’t remember the guards outside…!” Wendy said, frustrated.

The fact that a girl of Wendy’s high station was capable of remembering all twenty of the servants employed in her home was astounding on its own. This spoke to just how good her relations with them were. And Wendy was trying to make copies of the bodyguards, whom she wasn’t too familiar with.

That, however, was a dangerous idea. The guards were desperately trying to hold the mercenaries off, and Almark was sad to say it was unlikely they’d survive. Seeing people they knew they’d killed crop up would make the mercenaries suspicious. And although he knew that, Almark chose not to say it aloud.

But then the surge of magic suddenly stopped.

Almark and Morgan exchanged a surprised look. Upon sensing Wendy’s mana rapidly shrinking, Almark hurried over to her.

“Wendy!”

He caught the girl as she was starting to sink to the floor. Held in Almark’s arms, Wendy regarded the copies she created and spoke through her muddled thoughts.

“Please… Protect the manor… Protect everyone…”

“Lady Wendy!”

“Ward, Almark, Morgan… Everyone… Run…”

With that final remark, Wendy fell unconscious.

Almark felt emotion stir within him. Her reasoning returned to her at the very end, and the first thing on her mind was concern for them.

Thank you, Wendy. I’ll protect you, I promise.

Almark left Wendy’s limp, unconscious body with Ward.

“Hide on the fourth floor with the rest of the servants,” Almark urged. “Look after Wendy, please.”

“But what of you, Master Almark?”

“I’ll stop the attackers—with them.” Almark gestured toward the copies Wendy created. “I’ll use this fake Wendy to make the mercenaries think they got what they wanted.”

He grinned, pointing at the Wendy doppelgänger. Ward was surprised this child could even smile during such a tense situation.

“Don’t worry about us. We’re mages,” Almark said as calmly as he could. “There’s plenty of ways we can escape if we have to.”

Hearing the word we and realizing it included him, Morgan started to look sad.

“Please, hurry. Defending Wendy to the bitter end falls to you,” Almark urged Ward. “We’re running out of time.”

From downstairs, they could hear an axe bashing against the front doors. It wouldn’t be long before the enemy got in.

“Let us handle this. Hurry!”

Ward looked right into Almark’s eyes. “…Master Almark, you can see things that elude us.” Ward then nodded. “We will offer you proper thanks for everything you’ve done here later. Come, to the fourth floor! Help me carry Lady Wendy up!”

Ward and the servants went up to the fourth floor, leaving behind their copies, as well as Wendy’s more crudely made copy, which was similar to the real thing but somehow felt off, and the real Morgan.

“Everyone, you understand what Wendy’s last words meant, right?” Almark asked.

The servants nodded and all shuffled down to the lower floors. They would retain their form so long as the mana Wendy granted them sufficed. Even if they were to be killed.

“All right, Morgan, let’s get into position.”

“Almark, are you sure about this?” Morgan whined.

Almark nodded confidently. “Positive. I’ll stand guard in front of the door. If anyone makes it in, it’ll be only one person. For sure.”

“I can trust you, right?!”

“I trust you, Morgan, so I want you to trust me back.”

“I wanna trust you, too, but everything you say is just really hard to believe…”

“Then trust the magic you learned at the institute.”

“Aw man, can I really do this…?”

“I know you can.” Almark nodded. “Let’s get into position.”

Almark parted ways with Morgan in front of Wendy’s room.

“Hide in a spot he wouldn’t see from the entrance, all right?” Almark instructed.

Morgan nodded.

“Don’t worry. You’ve got this.”

“…Yeah.”

Morgan knew whining wouldn’t get him anywhere. Instead, he looked at Almark’s sword, which was much too large and long for a child. “You’re really gonna fight?”

“Yeah.”

“Aren’t you afraid?” Morgan asked. “You might die. I’m about ready to pass out from fear.”

“I’m scared, yeah.”

Almark was going up against seasoned mercenaries, so there was no guarantee he’d win. And yet…

“But if I just let the fear take over, I’ll die for sure.” He smiled. “So I’m going to do everything I can to think of a way to survive.” He then tapped Morgan on the shoulder. “That’s how I’ve always survived—and it’s how I ended up meeting you.”

From the distance, they could hear the loud splitting sound of the doors being torn open downstairs.

“See you later, Morgan.”

Almark turned his back on his friend.

As Almark lay in ambush in the third-floor corridor, he could hear the invading mercenaries cutting down the servants wandering the first and second floors. These were sounds he knew. He’d heard them many times on the Northern battlefields or on his harsh journey. And each time he did, he wielded his trusted longsword to survive. But he never expected the day would come when he would draw it in a peaceful country in the South.

For a Northerner like Almark, this entire situation felt detached from reality, so it must have been doubly so for those who lived their entire life in the South. But just from the sound of their heavy footsteps in the corridor, Almark could tell—these were Northern mercenaries, no doubt about it.

And having come to the peaceful South, these Northern mercenaries were gleeful. Finally, a battle. Finally, the taste of blood and steel. They effortlessly cut down the guards and butchered unarmed servants, their blood seething with joy.

And I’m just like them. Almark stared at the dull glint of his sword. My blood is seething. I can tell.

Just hearing the sounds from downstairs made heat surge through him, but his heart was frighteningly cold. This was what the battlefield felt like.

Go on, Almark! the mercenary blood passed down to him from his father screamed. Now is when life burns the brightest.

I know. Almark nodded. I will protect Wendy with this sword.

He made up his mind, feeling a freezing gale blow through his heart. The wind of the North.

He had no more doubts.

Now, let’s go.

The first to climb up to the third floor was a small-built mercenary, careless and confident that they’d killed everyone in the manor. Almark soundlessly crept in on him and sliced his head off with a single swing. A perfect surprise attack. Another two mercenaries, confident and fooled by Wendy’s fakes, climbed up the stairs only to be cut down.

To ensure any other mercenaries wouldn’t accidentally climb up to the fourth floor, Almark revealed himself. He lured a hulking mercenary and his subordinate to the door to Wendy’s room and challenged them to fight there. He seized every chance to exploit every opening and slay the mercenaries, whittling down their numbers.

The last one to come to the third floor was what looked to be the enemy commander. Seeing him approach, Almark was confident his plan was working. At this point, all that remained was to have faith—in his own sword, in Wendy’s magic, and in Morgan’s courage.

“If it wasn’t for Wendy’s transformation spell,” Almark told Ward, “I wouldn’t have been able to face those six mercenaries all at once.”

The most Almark could fight at the same time was three people. That would allow the remaining mercenaries to move freely, meaning the odds of the danger extending to the fourth floor where Wendy was hiding would increase at once. By being able to cut down the first three undetected, he was able to tilt the situation in his favor.

“Really, the credit goes entirely to Wendy.”

Ward looked at Almark in silence.

“Master Almark,” he managed to say, “are you…? No, you are…”

Morgan looked up in alarm upon hearing what Ward said next.

“…a Northern mercenary, are you not?”

Mages

Almark had already sheathed his sword, but he was standing in front of Gizarte’s dead body. There was no point in lying.

“…Yes,” he said. “To be exact, I’m a Northern mercenary’s son. I’m not a mercenary anymore.”

The other servants were all frantically engaged in tending to the guards collapsed on the lawn, or cleaning up the broken pieces of the breached doors. Their conversation paused when a servant approached and whispered something to Ward. During that pause, Almark saw that Morgan was staring at him, his face pale with concern.

“You figured it out?” Almark asked Morgan.

“…Yeah. I heard you talking to the other mercenary while I was in the room. You mentioned your dad.”

“Right.” Almark nodded sincerely. “Turns out they knew him. Said they lost to him in a fight.”

Ward gave the servant some kind of instruction and then turned to Almark again.

“Ward, I didn’t mean to hide it. I…”

Almark tried to explain, but Ward shook his head. “I had my suspicions to begin with. The air about you is different from that of your schoolmates. And you were so composed tonight…”

That confirmed it for him.

“I’ve never met a Northern mercenary before. All I knew is that they are soldiers of fortune, some bold and resolute, others cruel and atrocious. They measure the lives of men in coin, but all I’ve heard of them are rumors by the common folk, who detest them.”

Almark listened to Ward in silence.

“And the brigands who came to this manor today were most definitely that kind of detestable louts. From what the servants just told me, thirteen of our guards have died. Four are grievously injured. Only one is unharmed and two are lightly injured because they fled their posts… They will not be blamed for doing so.”

…The guards really were no good. Almark closed his eyes. If only I was stronger. If only I could have predicted this and done more to stop it. I’m sure there was more I could have done, and these people, who only knew life in a peaceful country, wouldn’t have had to die.

“You needn’t feel responsible for their deaths,” Ward said softly. “They did their duty to the letter.”

Ward was right. The guards’ desperate resistance was what gave Wendy the time to evacuate to safety. And even if he could have protected Wendy, Ward and all the servants would have surely died.

“Yes… You’re right.”

Almark nodded, but he still felt frustrated. Mercenaries entered battle knowing their lives were on the line. They knew death awaited at every turn on the battlefield, and even when they weren’t consciously thinking about it, they were always prepared for the possibility in the back of their minds. This held true for Gizarte and Deran.

But did any of these fallen guards wake up that morning thinking they might end up dead later that day? The thought left a bitter aftertaste in Almark’s mouth. He considered himself used to death. He’d cut people down that very day. And yet…

Ward carried on, with no way of knowing what Almark was thinking.

“But now I keenly know how fearsome mercenaries can be. Just eight of them were enough to eliminate twenty guards, without suffering a single wound. They truly are war incarnate. I am absolutely terrified, if I may be frank.” He looked straight at Almark. “And you, Master Almark, beat all of them almost single-handedly. I find your great strength to be just as terrifying.”

Almark froze. Ward’s statement was understandable—Almark knew this—but hearing it from Wendy’s faithful butler made Almark feel like a cold hand had just grabbed his heart. It was as if the trust he’d built up slowly and gradually with Wendy was about to be overturned. This was a fear he’d never felt before.

“Ah…”

He tried to say something, but the words wouldn’t come out. Wendy’s smile flashed in his mind.

“I believe you!” Morgan shouted.

Almark turned around and was surprised to see Morgan, who’d been white as a sheet thus far, looking at him fixedly, his face flushed.

“Whether you’re a mercenary or the son of one—that doesn’t matter to me. You put your faith in me, so I’m going to believe you, too!” Morgan yelled, his eyes full of tears.

“Morgan… Thank you. I…,” Almark started to say, but the words got stuck in his throat. He didn’t know how to respond.

“Almark, I…”

Morgan got choked up before he could finish speaking. Remembering the fight earlier filled him with a flood of emotions that rendered him speechless.

When the mercenaries’ raid began, Morgan parted ways with Almark and entered Wendy’s room. It was at that point that the fear caught up to him, and he started trembling. His staff shook in his hands.

He was terrified.

Nonetheless, Morgan did as Almark instructed. He opened the window wide and had Wendy’s double stand in front, its expression peaceful.

“Stay there,” Morgan said.

The double simply cocked its head slightly. It wasn’t made elaborately enough to speak.

“I wish you could talk,” Morgan said, his voice coming out in trembling breaths. “Aah, but maybe it’s better you can’t. If I start chatting with you, I’ll probably forget what I’m supposed to do…”

Before long, he could hear adults shouting brusquely. Almark was fighting.

“Oh, they’re here…” Morgan hurriedly stood behind the door, where he wouldn’t be seen. “You stay right there.”

With that last remark to Wendy’s copy, Morgan went quiet. After that, he heard clashing metal a few times and then silence.

“You’re a Northerner.” It was a cold, emotionless voice. “A mercenary at your age? Did the people here hire you?”

He heard Almark say something. His voice was calm and quiet, just like it always was. Morgan was shocked. Almark, a boy his age, wasn’t intimidated even when he was surrounded by a group of burly men.

“If you’re a mercenary,” said another deep voice, “you must’ve been in a group. Where’re you from? What’s your name?”

And Morgan heard Almark’s answer clearly.

“I’m Almark, son of Reiz the Shadow Fang, the vice-captain of the Black Wolf Riders.”

Morgan gulped. He’d never heard the name of these riders before, but based on the context, they must have been a mercenary group.

Almark’s father is a Northern mercenary, too?!

And Almark didn’t deny being a mercenary, either.

The conversation continued for a while; the attackers seemed to know Almark’s father. But Morgan was still reeling from the revelation about Almark’s background. At the same time, that was a good thing in this situation. Like he’d just learned the secret behind Almark’s strength. And after all, he’d heard bad rumors about Northern mercenaries, but he never saw any of that for himself.

I’m sure there’s all kinds of mercenaries out there, Morgan thought. The ones attacking the manor now are the bad sort, but there’s decent ones, like Almark. I don’t know much about them, but I’m sure that’s the truth. After all, I’ve seen Almark with my own two eyes. He’s trustworthy.

Morgan was able to see things this way thanks to his optimistic perspective.

But then he remembered how he’d criticized mercenaries to Almark’s face when they were staying at the inn in Garenthol. Almark had listened in silence, but now Morgan had to wonder how that made him feel.

An unexpected voice pulled him out of this flood of regret.

“Please.”

It was Wendy’s voice. Morgan’s head shot up, and he saw it was the fake Wendy standing by the window.

“Protect the manor.”

Those were the last words Wendy said. The fake echoed them, using Wendy’s own voice.

“Please. Protect the manor.”

It remained as expressionless as before. It wasn’t speaking to Morgan in particular, and no doubt, this was all part of the transformation spell Wendy had cast. But her voice did help Morgan recover from his confusion.

“…I know.”

Morgan nodded to the fake Wendy.

I can regret stuff later. There’s something more important to do right now. Morgan tightened his grip on his staff. If I remember, I’ll apologize to Almark later. After we’re done protecting this manor.

This was Morgan’s fastest way of focusing on the task at hand.

But what if I forget? After something this scary, I’ll probably forget to say it, and thinking too hard makes me hungry…

“Let’s protect the manor,” he told the fake Wendy.

He listened carefully to the noises outside. Instead of a conversation, he heard heavy clashing sounds, and the doors shook over and over.

It had started. Morgan gulped.

It’s almost time.

The thought of it made him tremble. He tried to focus his mana but couldn’t do it right. His hands on the staff were trembling even harder than before. He was scared, wanting nothing but to squeeze his eyes shut and run away. To find somewhere to hide until all of this blew over. Morgan grappled with the impulse. He was in constant tension over when it would happen.

And just as he thought he couldn’t take the suspense anymore, the door suddenly burst open, and a slender mercenary barreled into the room. Like Almark had promised, there was only one of them.

“Oh, I’ve been looking forward to seeing you.” The mercenary curled his lips upon spotting the fake Wendy.

The next second, he severed its head faster than Morgan’s eyes could follow. Morgan was shocked, even knowing the copy wasn’t human. The heinous act made his throat squeeze up, and his field of vision misted over with tears.

However…

“Morgan, now!”

It was Almark’s voice, same as it ever was, brimming with unwavering faith in his friend. And hearing it made Morgan’s trembling die down. It felt like a gentle pat on the shoulder, a push in the right direction. And with the help of that push, Morgan charged at the mercenary.

He thrust out his staff, a gust of wind bursting from its tip.

I’ll blow you out of here!

And he sent the mercenary, his eyes wide open in shock, hurtling out the window.

“I believe you, Almark. I believe in you,” Morgan said.

I believe in you. Those were the words—Almark’s words—that pushed him forward.

“No matter what anyone else says, I believe in you—!”

Morgan got choked up again. He looked at Almark, his heart aching at the pained expression on his friend’s face.

“Thank you,” Almark repeated. “I’m glad to hear you say that.”

That was all he could say. Despite those words, Almark was unable to manage a smile. He simply hung his head.

“…Master Almark, Master Morgan,” Ward said calmly. “Please do not misunderstand…”

Almark turned around and saw Ward gazing upon him with a kind expression.

“What I just said was but my own personal opinion. And while those are my sincere feelings, they matter nothing in the face of my role.”

Ward straightened his back.

“My opinions have no bearing on my role as the Baherb family butler.”

This was his pride as a butler who had supported this family for many years.

“Nor is it my place to argue for or against the validity of mercenaries. All that matters to me is that you protected Lady Wendy’s life, Master Almark.”

Ward cast a warm gaze on the cut on Almark’s cheek.

“And nothing could be more important than that,” the butler said resolutely. “What you said rings true, Master Morgan. Be you mercenary or otherwise matters nothing, Master Almark. You risked your life to save our little lady. On that point alone, you have more than proven yourself, in my eyes. On that merit alone, I put all my trust in you.”

Ward bowed his head to Almark and Morgan.

“Master Almark, Master Morgan. You have my deepest, sincerest gratitude. You two are the epitome of courage, and you saved Lady Wendy. Allow me to thank you in place of my master Lord Elmond, who is far away in Garenthol.”

Almark wasn’t sure how to react to a much older adult thanking him so reverently. He could only stare in silence.

“Almark,” Morgan said, his voice choked with tears. “This is the first time I’ve ever seen you cry. I never knew someone as strong as you could cry, too.”

And only upon hearing that did Almark realize there were tears spilling from his eyes.

“…You’re right,” Almark whispered. “I don’t know what’s going on. Why am I crying?” He wiped the tears away with a clenched fist. “For some reason, Ward, hearing you say that just…”

“My apologies, my wording was faulty. You two have nothing to be ashamed of. Please, hold your heads high.”

Ward made to bow his head once more, but Almark and Morgan stopped him.

“We’re fine,” Almark said. “If anything, you have a lot of work ahead of you after all of this. You should go get started.”

“True enough. I have a mountain of tasks ahead of me.” Ward smiled. “It’s going to get busy!” he added as he began sauntering off to work.

However, Almark remembered one more thing he needed to ask of him. He’d been wavering over it for some time now, but the fear he felt for the first time just now pushed him to make the choice.

“…I’m sorry, Ward, but can I ask you for one thing?”

“Yes, what is it?” Ward turned around.

Almark faltered, but then he finally found the words.

“…Could you keep the fact I cut down these mercenaries a secret?”

“…I’m not sure I follow,” Ward said, a dubious expression on his face.

“If you could…please report that the guards killed them. And keep the fact it was me a secret from Wendy.”

Almark bowed his head, apologizing for the selfish request. Ward held his tongue and thought it over.

“…If the story becomes that the guards beat the raiders, then the families of the dead will be compensated more generously, so I am very much in favor of that. However…” Ward paused and asked, surprised, “Are you sure you want to keep it a secret from Lady Wendy?”

“…Yes.”

Wendy cast those spells with all her might, intent on not letting anyone die. Almark, on the other hand, killed eight people that night.

Could Wendy accept that? Until now, he naively thought she would. But when Ward called him terrifying, Almark was beset by fear. A kind of fear he’d never felt before, different from the fear on the battlefield. And it held Almark’s heart in a vise.

Wendy would understand. He believed that. Trusted in that.

But what if she didn’t? What would he do on the off chance Wendy said she was scared of him? What if Wendy started looking at him like some kind of monster?

I wouldn’t be able to handle that…

Looking straight at Almark in the eye, Ward nodded silently. “Very well. I shall keep this matter to myself and swear the servants to secrecy as well.”

“Thank you.” Almark hung his head in gratitude.

“Not at all. If anything, we should be grateful to you for relinquishing the honor to the dead.”

“No, I’m just asking you all to play along with my selfish requests here.”

Seeing Almark insist on remaining modest, Ward asked, “Master Almark, are you ashamed of your origins?”

Almark hung his head again. The question pained him.

Ward eyed him pitifully. “Those of us from the South know nothing about the mercenaries of the North. Everyone is much like me, and all they know is…superficial impressions, hardly worthy of being called knowledge. I’m sure you’ve had many a painful experience because of that,” Ward continued kindly. “But what I said was worded poorly. What I feel toward your strength, a strength we in the South lack, is not scorn but great awe and respect. If I made you feel scorned, then allow me to apologize.”

Almark wanted to say that wasn’t the case, but he couldn’t quite come up with the words. If anyone else would scorn him, he wouldn’t care one bit. He wouldn’t deny his father or mercenaries as a whole because of that.

But not Wendy. She was the only person he didn’t want hating him.

Ward seemed to sense Almark’s feelings, because he added encouragingly, “Lady Wendy’s faith in you is extraordinary, Master Almark. I’m sure she will understand.”

I know that. Wendy is kind, and she won’t change her mind aboutme no matter if I’m a child of a mercenary or how many people I kill. But…

“I won’t let anyone die.”

Wendy’s firm voice came to mind.

I’m scared, Ward. What if she doesn’t accept me? That thought scares me so much.

Seeing the look on his face, Ward nodded warmly. “…Very well. I won’t say a word.”

He then walked over to the other servants, but before he did, he turned around to look at Almark one last time.

“One day, the time will come for me to repay your kindness.”

Almark watched the old butler depart in silence.

Morgan placed an encouraging hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Almark, if you don’t want me to tell her, I won’t. I promise.”

“Thank you… Really, Morgan. Thank you.”

Another tear rolled down Almark’s cheek.

It was a long night, and it would be a while still until dawn broke.

The two boys volunteered to help the servants, with Morgan helping them clean up the garden, while Almark helped remove the mercenaries’ corpses from the manor. Deran was especially burly, and his body was very heavy. It took three men to carry him out, leaving all three covered in sweat.

As he helped them, Almark bowed his head to the furniture and jars littering the second-floor corridor.

Thank you. You kept this manor safe.

The injured were sent to the local hospital, and the dead mercenaries and guards were each lined up on the lawn.

The guards were rested on a sheet, while the mercenaries were laid out on the cold ground. That was how things should be, Almark thought. Mercenaries don’t get graves. His father had said as much more than once. There was no one who would take care of the bodies of mercenaries or mourn for them. Not even members of their own group.

And so whichever battlefield a mercenary died on went on to be their grave.

If their comrades wished to remember that mercenary, they’d think back to that battlefield. And remembering how their comrade fought and died was the greatest way of mourning mercenaries had for each other.

Reiz had told Almark about this one night as he stared into a bonfire. It was the night when his right-hand man, Yagas, died in battle.

“If I die in battle, you won’t come get my body?”

What did his father say when Almark asked him this question? He couldn’t remember anymore.

Almark heard the servants murmuring.

“Lady Wendy!” someone called out.

Wendy emerged from the manor, pale in the face and supported by Lisa.

“Everyone, are you hurt? Is everyone all right?” Wendy said hoarsely. She looked even more ashen than any of the other survivors.

Some of the servants sobbed.

“No, Lady Wendy, we should say the same!”

“Are you safe?”

They surrounded Wendy, calling her name. She walked slowly across the lawn, speaking to each individual before eventually emerging from the crowd and approaching Almark and Morgan.

“Wendy!” Morgan called out to her enthusiastically.

Upon seeing the two of them, Wendy lit up.

“Oh, Almark, Morgan! Are you two safe?!”

Lisa looked at Wendy in surprise—her voice was perfectly cheerful and normal. As the boys ran over to her, Wendy walked away from Lisa and approached them.

“Lady Wendy!” Lisa cried in shock, but Wendy wouldn’t stop. Her knees were shaky, and she nearly tumbled forward, but the two caught her from both sides. Falling into their embrace, Wendy gave a delighted squeal, entrusting her weight to her two friends.

“Wendy, be careful. You’re out of mana; you can’t push yourself like this.”

“That’s right, I thought you were trying to hurt yourself here.”

Morgan and Almark rebuked her, but Wendy clung to them and refused to let go.

“What a relief,” she whispered.

“Huh?” Almark said.

“I said I’m relieved!” Wendy said, and then she stared sternly at Almark. Seeing her eyes fill with tears, Almark couldn’t say anything.

“I’m so glad you’re both safe,” Wendy told him.

She then gently caressed the cut on Almark’s cheek.

“You got hurt. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“Because—”

“It’s not your fault.”

“…Right. Morgan, are you okay?”

“Yeah. Not a scratch on me!”

“That’s great.”

The three of them continued chatting, still in an embrace, until Ward approached.

“Lady Wendy!” he called. “I told you to stay in bed, and you’re out here? You need to rest!”

“I’m sorry, Ward…”

Ward hurried over to her. “Now come, back to your room. Keep her away from them for now,” he instructed the servants, who indeed pulled Wendy away from Almark and Morgan. “You could make your condition worse. Back to your room.”

But then Wendy’s gaze settled on something, and her eyes narrowed. “Ward. Over there.”

“To your room, Lady Wendy, you need to recover.”

“Take me over there.”

“Your health comes before all else, Lady Wendy.”

“Ward!” Her harsh voice lashed out at the old butler trying to pull her away from the garden and back to her room. “I have a duty to see this. Take me there.”

“Lady Wendy, please…”

“That’s an order.”

“…Very well.”

The servants carried Wendy over to the edge of the lawn, where the brutalized corpses of the guards who’d protected her lay. Wendy took in the sight of them, holding her breath, and then knelt before their remains.

“…Forgive me,” she pleaded with them softly. “You did this for me. I’m so sorry.”

Almark and Morgan watched her from behind. Wendy knelt before the sheets, unstirring.

“…Y’know, I always thought nobles had it easy,” Morgan said, watching Wendy’s curled up back. “But Wendy’s amazing.”

“…Yeah.” Almark agreed.

Morgan’s eyes remained fixed on Wendy. “If this many people had to die to protect me…I don’t think I’d…”

“Yeah.” Almark nodded again.

So many people had died to save one life. That unimaginable burden of responsibility had to rest on Wendy’s shoulders. As the daughter of House Baherb, as a noble, she would never cry and claim none of this was her fault.

“Poor Wendy, Almark…”

“I know.”

Almark could only nod. No other words came to mind when describing Wendy’s current state. He’d never been in her position. The reality of the difference in their status was made real and tangible. For the first time, Almark truly felt it.

Wendy rose to her feet and turned to the corpses of the mercenaries. Looking at their remains littering the ground, Wendy whispered, “It’s unforgivable.”

Almark couldn’t see her expression, but he absolutely heard her words.

“Mercenaries… They should be wiped off the face of the earth.”

There was a hatred in her voice that he’d never heard from her before.

Morgan glanced at Almark, who shook his head softly.

I’ve got no right to say anything.

The sky was finally starting to brighten, but Almark couldn’t tear his eyes away from Wendy.

In a certain noble’s estate in the capital, Garenthol, the master of the manor listened to his subordinate’s report, his eyes wide with disbelief.

“It failed…?”

“Yes. Captain Gizarte and all his men are dead,” the man said plainly.

“I thought they were skilled. That’s why I sent you all the way to the North! Was that a lie?!”

“I cannot speak to his skills in strategy and war, but I can guarantee his sword is reliable.”

“Then how did he fail to kill Elmond’s girl?! It’s just one brat!”

“I couldn’t tell you.” The man cocked his head.

“Then who would know?!” the noble hollered.

“I really couldn’t say, milord,” the man said again, unfazed.

The noble finally noticed the cold gaze of the man giving his report.

“…Why are you looking at me like that?” the noble demanded.

“…”

The blank, yet haughty gaze of his subordinate sent a chill down the noble’s spine.

“You… It can’t be.”

He nearly finished the sentence, but the man’s cold eyes made him trail off. This time, the noble’s eyes were pleading.

“Right, what did…what did he say?”

“Oh,” said the man, like he had only just remembered. “That will be my last report.”

“Say it.” The noble nodded, his face trembling. “Hurry.”

“He sent a message. Its contents were as such: ‘I’ve seen the gate open. Thank you.’ That’s all.”

“…That’s all?” asked the noble.

“That’s all.” The man shrugged.

The noble looked up at him, like he was clinging to a final sliver of hope, but the man simply gave a curt farewell and turned around to leave.

“Wait, please! What will…what will become of me?!” the noble shouted at his back.

The man threw a glance over his shoulder and tilted his head. “Well… What will be will be, I suspect? I’m sure you know that well enough.”

The man opened the door, and his shadow spilled ominously into the dimly lit room, adding another layer of darkness to the murk. The door clicked shut, and the shadow faded away. Left all alone, the noble remained in a daze for a moment, before he started trembling in fear.

A flute was playing somewhere in the distance.

Upon learning about the attempt on his daughter’s life, Lord Elmond retaliated swiftly.

He quickly mobilized his troops within the capital, and using the information Almark gave Ward, he captured the five remaining members of the Bloodshed Mercenaries.

At first, the captured mercenaries refused to believe Gizarte lost to a Southerner, but upon learning that it was true, they lost all their drive.

Their testimony revealed they were hired by a low-ranking noble living in the capital.

Guards were instantly dispatched to the noble’s manor to arrest him, but they found the place abandoned and in ruins. The guards were alarmed, thinking the noble had already escaped, but after a thorough search of the premises, they found him in one room in the manor.

He was lying face up on a sofa, his expression contorted in terror—dead. No one knew where his family or servants had disappeared to.

According to the five mercenaries, they’d only ever interacted with a subordinate of this noble, a young man by the name of Gurang. He supplied all the information and paid them. The guards were questioned about this man, but apparently, no one in all of Garenthol knew this Gurang individual.

In the end, Lord Elmond never learned what reason this minor noble had for hiring mercenaries and going after his daughter’s life. The day after the investigation concluded, Ward told Almark and Morgan the gist of what they’d discovered.

The Winter Villa was in no state to entertain guests, so Almark and Morgan decided to leave the place and return to the institute, but Wendy and Ward urged them to stay. Plus, knowing what Wendy had been through, the boys couldn’t bring themselves to leave against her wishes.

“Not being guests is nice,” Morgan said.

Almark nodded. “That’s right, Morgan. You’re sharp today.”

“Tee-hee.”

The two of them stayed on the condition that they be treated not as guests but as manor employees. Morgan, with his amicable nature, soon hit it off with the other servants. Almark, on the other hand, was concerned people would fear and shun him.

But since the servants were all on the fourth floor with Wendy during the attack itself, none of them witnessed Almark’s battles. They didn’t understand the situation very well, but they were under the impression the guards and mercenaries had ended up killing one another.

They would be willing to believe the two children worked alongside Wendy’s copies, using some magic of their own, but that was all. That assumption felt much more reasonable compared to one that claimed an eleven-year-old had fought off burly mercenaries.

And those that had some inkling as to the truth were told by Ward to keep quiet, so no one treated Almark strangely. This meant Almark was able to fit in among the servants, albeit not as quickly or naturally as Morgan did.

Wendy had worn herself out spending so much mana, which made Ward and Almark quite anxious, but she regained her energy and cheer by the day. Only a few days later, she was well enough to take a walk through the garden.

Almark and Morgan spent as much time as they could at her side, both at Ward’s behest and their own desire not to leave her.

On that day, Almark was walking through the garden with Wendy.

Despite the location being significantly north of Norkh Island, the summer sun was still beating down on Almark harshly.

“It’s pretty hot today,” he said.

Almark looked up at the sky, and Wendy, wearing a hat to shade her from the sun, nodded. “True, but you can already feel autumn in the wind.”

“Really?”

Almark couldn’t tell. To him, the air felt as summery as it did the day prior.

“Yeah, just a little. I usually start feeling lonely around this time every year, but this time is special.”

Wendy looked straight at Almark. She was smiling, but her expression was somewhat clouded over.

“…Where’s Morgan today?” she asked.

“Oh, he’s with Millet; they went to an eating contest in town,” Almark said, mentioning a servant with a pudgy physique who looked like he was Morgan’s older brother.

“Morgan really has a way of getting along with people.” Wendy chuckled.

“He does,” Almark agreed. “I think it’s a talent of his. I could never even hope to do that.”

After that, silence lingered between the two as they walked together for a few moments, and then Wendy turned to look at Almark.

“…Father said…”

“Yes?”

“He said I should go back to Garenthol, now that the harassment problem is over. He wants me to spend the rest of summer vacation with them.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?”

Almark knew this was coming. Helping the servants with work around the manor gave him an overall grasp of what was going on in the residence. All he had to do was observe what Ward was doing on a given day. So both he and Morgan could tell that they were packing in preparation for Wendy to leave.

The evening prior, the two of them discussed that it was time for them to go back to the institute. But though Wendy nodded at Almark’s question, there was no smile on her lips.

“But that means you two will need to go back to the institute.”

“Well, yes, it would.”

Wendy’s expression darkened. “…I don’t want you to go back.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t want you to go back to the institute.”

“But you’re going back home to Garenthol.”

“Yes, but…”

Wendy dropped her shoulders, disappointed.

“?” Almark didn’t understand what Wendy meant. “Do you want us to escort you back to Garenthol?”

“That’s not it…,” Wendy said hesitantly.

“…Hm.” Almark hummed, signaling for her to go on, but it took Wendy a moment to carry on.

Flummoxed, Almark faced her and began talking to her like he did to the first-year girl Cecily.

“Wendy, if you need something, Morgan and I will do anything we can to help. But we won’t get anywhere if you don’t know what to say. Can’t you be clear about it?”

For some reason, this made Wendy flush, which baffled Almark all the more.

“Wendy?”

At his urging, Wendy hung her head and mumbled, “…Somewhere, with the two of you…”

“Huh? Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

“…I want to go play somewhere, with the two of you!” Wendy said, her voice a little louder.

“That’s all?” Almark said without thinking.

Blushing, Wendy raised her face and started speaking defensively and very quickly.

“I mean, everything went wrong right after you two got here, and now I have to go back to Garenthol right after things are starting to get fun! You two came all the way here to see me, and I hardly got to hang out with you! There’s so much I want to do!”

Her face was flushed, and tears were forming in her eyes. As the daughter of House Baherb, Wendy had to conduct herself maturely, but this side of her was a reminder that she was still an ordinary girl. The part that Almark and Morgan knew from the Norkh Institute for Magic.

To Almark, Wendy had seemed distant ever since he came here, but it felt like she was once again within arm’s reach. The same Wendy he knew and loved, the girl he’d first met.

“Of course we don’t mind.”

The moment Almark said this, a gust of wind blew Wendy’s hat into the air.

“Ah!” she exclaimed.

Almark nimbly jumped and caught the hat. He handed it back to her with a smile. “Let’s play tomorrow, all three of us. What do you want to do?”

Wendy looked at Almark’s face, the summer sun glistening in the tears in her eyes. “I want us to ride horses and have a picnic!”

“Sounds good. I’ll have Sedar make us lunch, and we can go out together.”

Almark’s mention of the manor’s head cook made Wendy laugh out loud.

“You two fit into this manor a little too well!”

Almark’s heart felt lighter when he saw her finally laughing.

Two horses galloped across a hill awash with summer sunlight, carrying two boys and a girl on their backs. The one carrying the boys was tempted by the knee-length summer grass and veering off the path, but they directed it back in the right direction with a tug of the reins.

The girl would occasionally look over to the boys and say something, her hair fluttering in the wind. The boys joked and chatted, making the girl explode with laughter.

An idyllic scene.

Wendy and Almark held on to the reins of the horses walking leisurely. Morgan, who’d never ridden a horse before, was sitting behind Almark. The three of them were on their way to have a picnic on a hill a short distance away from the Winter Villa.

“I never knew you could ride a horse, Almark.” Wendy smiled at him. “I thought we’d need Ward here.”

Her original idea was for her and Ward to each steer the horse, with Almark and Morgan behind them. But since Almark knew how to ride a horse, Ward instantly suggested the three go without him.

Before the attack, Ward was wary of every action and word Wendy made and greatly restricted her freedoms, so this sudden change of attitude left Wendy and the two boys surprised.

Ward, looking quite calm, had said, “With Master Almark and Master Morgan with you, you’ll be safer than you’d ever be in the manor alone.”

Wendy was quite happy to hear that.

“I had a chance to ride them for a bit once,” Almark said atop the horse, holding the reins.

As their name implied, the Black Wolf Riders were primarily mounted fighters, and so Almark was around horses growing up.

“You can really do anything, huh, Almark?” Morgan said, impressed. “It’s cool.”

“Not at all.” He turned to Morgan and shook his head. “If anything, you’re the one who’s impressive.”

Almark truly felt that way. Morgan’s easygoing personality enabled him to get on everyone’s good side. His presence alone comforted people. His ability to always look on the bright side and focus without letting troubles weigh him down was a talent. And then there was his unyielding courage, which seldom got the chance to shine but always manifested when it counted.

During their journey that summer, Almark had plenty of chances to be surprised by Morgan.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to learn how to ride a horse if you just practice. But I can never become like you.”

“Huh?” Morgan was taken aback. “What are you saying? If we could change places, I’d love to become like you, Almark.”

Wendy beamed at them. “You both have your good sides, and you both can’t see your own merits.”

There were trees growing here and there all over the hill, and whenever they passed under one, the shadow helped alleviate the heat bearing down on them.

“I wish there were more trees around,” Morgan grumbled.

“But then we wouldn’t have this view,” Almark said with a wry smile.

Wendy then raised her voice, like she’d predicted Morgan would say that.

“There.” She pointed, and they could see the Winter Villa from afar.

“Whoa!” Morgan cheered. “It looks so small.”

“We’ve come pretty far,” Almark said, and Wendy nodded.

“Yeah. I always come here during winter, but all you see then is withered grass.” Wendy smiled a little and looked at the Winter Villa and the surrounding hills. “It’s my first time here during the summer. I didn’t know it could be this pretty.”

Almark and Morgan followed her gaze, looking around.

“Yeah. It is pretty,” Morgan said, only to be cut off by a rumble from his stomach. “Uh, looking at pretty things makes my stomach growl.”

The three of them laughed at Morgan’s flustered excuse.

“There’s a stream over there. We can let the horses rest there and have lunch,” Wendy said, wiping away tears of laughter. “Past that stream is a spot I call the Sunny Circle.”

“Sunny Circle?” Morgan repeated.

“I named it when I was little…” Wendy cracked a sheepish smile. “It’s nothing impressive. There’s a grove of evergreens around the stream, and it’s pretty dark there, but there’s that round spot there that always gets sunlight.”

“Wow.”

“Oh, except…” Wendy paused for thought. “That’s what it’s like in winter. Maybe it’s different now.”

“That could be…,” Almark affirmed, but Morgan waved a hand behind them.

“I’m fine so long as we get to eat lunch, so don’t worry about that!” he declared.

“Geez. If you keep saying that, I’ll just have to show you more pretty things.”

“Don’t, you’ll make my stomach growl again!”

Laughing together, they slowed their horses down and dismounted once they’d arrived at the stream.

“It really is nice and cool in the shade,” Morgan said, wiping his sweat away. “A shady spot by the stream is the best.”

After tying up the horses and letting them rest, the trio sat down on some appropriately sized rocks out of the sun. They put the picnic basket Sedar the head chef had prepared for them in the middle and had lunch. After chatting over a pleasant meal, the three friends dipped their feet in the creek.

“That circle you mentioned…,” Almark started to say.

“The Sunny Circle?” Wendy said.

“Yeah. Where is that?”

“Just ahead… But I’m not sure if it’ll be the same now that it’s summer,” she replied, looking conflicted.

“Since we’re here, let’s go check it out,” Almark suggested.

“Sure.”

“It’ll make for a good walk after lunch,” Morgan said.

The trio got to their feet and walked along the creek for a while.

“It should be here…,” Wendy said, looking incredibly unconfident. “Over there… Ah.”

“Whoa.”

“Huh?”

The three called out at once and stopped in their tracks. Just like Wendy said, in one spot by the creek was a single circle where sunlight shone in through the treetops. Contrasting against the shade surrounding it, that one illuminated spot looked like a sacred space.

And in the center of that circle, there bloomed a flower. A vivid blue flower the three of them recognized.

“A summerwater hollyhock…!” Wendy whispered. “They bloom this far north?”

Morgan shook his head.

A single flower, blooming proudly in the center of a circle of light. It looked to them like a present someone had prepared for them to finish off their vacation fraught with hardships here in Miletos.

“…It’s like magic,” Morgan said.

“Magic is equal to all.”

This was something Illmis had once told him.

Wendy nodded in sincere joy. The beauty of this blue flower was the same no matter who looked at it. And the power of magic worked the same way regardless of one’s status and upbringing. Almark remembered something Wendy had once told him.

“Social status has no bearing on the power of magic.”

Will I be able to tell her proudly, too, someday? Almark wondered as he watched the blue flower. Can I stand proudly in front of Wendy, just like this summerwater hollyhock, and tell her directly that I’m a Northern mercenary’s son?

The trio watched over the blue flower, feeling like time had crawled to a halt.

Two days after the picnic, Almark and Morgan left the Winter Villa. They didn’t have much in the way of luggage to begin with, and so they didn’t need much time to prepare for their journey back. Wendy and her entourage were set to go back to Garenthol two days later.

On the morning of their departure, Almark and Morgan went around to bid farewell to the servants who had helped them over the last few days. They all felt a sense of solidarity and affinity with these boys who’d survived such a dangerous incident with them, and they were loath to say goodbye. Morgan, in particular, had attained something of a mascot’s status among the servants, and despite it being last minute, they insisted he stay another day or two.

Morgan and Millet exchanged a tear-filled hug as they said good-bye. Anyone who didn’t know better would think they were two blood relatives bidding farewell.

Lastly, the two came to give Ward their regards. The sincere old butler greeted them with his usual peaceful expression.

“Do come visit anytime. Things turned out like they did this time, but next time, we’ll give you a proper guest’s welcome.”

Ward smiled at their words of gratitude. But before saying good-bye, Almark needed to confirm one thing with Ward. He doubted if it was appropriate to ask, but the question burned in his mind, and if it turned out he was just overthinking things, that was for the best.

“I need to ask you something, Ward.”

“Yes, what is it?” Ward complied calmly.

“About that day…”

“The day of the raid?” The old butler’s face clouded over.

“Yes.” Almark nodded.

“Go on, please.”

“That day, the three of us were in the parlor.”

“Yes, indeed.”

“When we heard the attack, I explained everything to Wendy, and she said this.” Almark remembered her words clearly. “‘I won’t let anyone else die.’”

Morgan nodded, recalling she did say that.

“At the time, there was so much to do, I couldn’t dwell on it, but…now I’m looking back on it.”

Ward listened in silence.

“The mercenaries hadn’t killed anyone yet then, but Wendy said ‘anyone else.’”

Almark looked up at Ward, looking straight into his eyes. And though he asked directly, Almark’s expression was pained.

“…Someone close to Wendy was killed, weren’t they?”

For one moment, Ward peered back into Almark’s eyes and then shook his head. “No one was killed.”

But halfway through his words, he averted his gaze. He then sighed and shook his head again.

“I can’t hide it from you two. I’m surprised you remembered that, given the danger we were in…” Ward then looked straight at Almark. “I only tell you this because you are worthy of my utmost trust. As you’ve said, a servant whom Lady Wendy once looked up to as an older sister passed away years ago.”

Almark closed his eyes. He could hear Morgan gasp next to him. Ward suggested they talk elsewhere and took them to an empty, unused storeroom.

“Her name was Tiria. She used to play with Lady Wendy often and was five years older.” Ward lowered his eyes, speaking in a matter-of-fact manner. “Of course, there was a difference in social status, and Tiria understood this, but Lady Wendy adored her like an older sister. Anyone who did not know better would assume the two were sisters.”

“How did it happen?”

“It was poison,” Ward said plainly. “It happened when Lady Wendy was six years old. I will spare you the unnecessary details, but Tiria mistakenly took a drink meant for Lady Wendy. A poisoned drink… Tiria was eleven years old when she passed away.”

“A poisoning…,” Morgan whispered in disbelief as Almark’s face contorted in displeasure.

“Needless to say, Lady Wendy was beside herself with grief… She developed an unexplained fever and was bedridden for days. And during that time, there were unexplained incidents every day in the manor.”

“Strange incidents?”

“Yes. There were voices of multiple people coming from empty rooms, the furniture would start moving when people weren’t looking… Thinking back on it now, perhaps that was somehow caused by Lady Wendy’s magic.”

Ward’s story reminded Almark of the night of the attack and the way Wendy’s mana went out of control. Was she in the same state when the girl she admired like a sister died?

“…Did you find out who did it?”

“Soon after that, yes. I hadn’t seen the culprit myself, but it was a man who snuck into the manor under the guise of a gardener… But in truth, it was a Northern mercenary.”

A Northern mercenary.

A pang of pain ran through Almark, like a dagger had ripped through his chest.

That was a Northern mercenary, too? Why do they keep taking away the people Wendy cares about?

“The man failed to escape, and once cornered, took his own life. We never did find out why he went after Lady Wendy.”

The reason Wendy was targeted was unclear…just like this time. This strange coincidence felt like an ill omen to Almark.

“Even after the fever broke and she woke up, Lady Wendy was quite disheartened and remained cooped up in her room, crying almost constantly… And she closed her heart to everyone in the manor, including Lord Elmond and the mistress.”

“Wendy used to be like that…?” Almark murmured.

Should he have brought this up at all? Despite having been the one to ask, he wished he could unhear it.

Ward continued his story, despite Almark’s reaction.

“She continued acting this way for days and months… We were powerless to help her. She only regained her cheer when that man visited.”

“You mean…?” Morgan asked.

“Yes, the headmaster of the Norkh Institute for Magic, Master Eurog.”

“The headmaster…” Almark exchanged a glance with Morgan, surprised to hear him come up now.

“Master Eurog visited us one day, without warning,” Ward continued calmly. “It was quite the commotion. A dignified old man arrived at our manor alone, without any guards… When he introduced himself, he said he wished to see Lady Wendy and was instantly taken to her room. Lord Elmond was quite alarmed, asking what a headmaster of a magic school wanted with them, and insisted we stay nearby and listen in on their meeting. But Master Eurog only sat across from Lady Wendy and spoke to her for a while.”

Almark had met Eurog for the first time when he was five years of age. He hardly remembered it, but he could recall the old man had a long talk with his father. Looking back, his future path might have been set on that day. And that same headmaster came to Wendy, too.

“They had a very long talk. We heard Lady Wendy sob occasionally, which greatly tormented Lord Elmond. But when the two came out of the room, Lady Wendy looked like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. And Master Eurog told Lord Elmond this.” Ward cleared his throat. “‘When this girl turns nine, send her to the Norkh Institute for Magic. She has wonderful potential.’”

“Wow…,” said Morgan. “Recommended by the headmaster himself. I had to go through a selection exam and just happened to get accepted.”

“Master Morgan, no one just happens to enter the institute.” Ward chided him and carried on. “And since that day, Lady Wendy cheered up considerably… She returned to her old self. She did not forget Tiria, but instead…she was able to get over her death, or so it seemed to us. At first, Lord Elmond was reluctant to send his daughter to the institute, but after seeing how disheartened she was, it was all but decided. And in her ninth spring, Lady Wendy joined the Norkh Institute for Magic. And the rest, I daresay you both know better than I do.”

Ward concluded the story, leaving the two boys unsure how to respond.

The butler straightened his back and said, “You two are the first outsiders I’ve shared this story with. And as for why I told you…I’m sure you can guess at how I feel.” Ward bowed to the two. “I cannot be of aid to my lady anymore. I ask that you look after her where I cannot. Keep her safe.”

“Ward, please, raise your head.” The two implored him quickly, but Ward kept his head down despite their request.

“…Thank you for telling us about this,” Almark said, and finally, the butler raised his head. “I think I understand now, why I cried when you told me what you did that night.”

Ward looked at Almark. He seemed to remember the tears Almark had shed in their exchange after the bandit attack, and his expression clouded over.

“You were the first. The first adult since I came here to the South who found out I was a mercenary’s son and, despite that, said they trusted me…” Almark cast down his eyes bashfully. “That was you, Ward. It made me happy. So I want to answer your trust. You’re entrusting us, children like us, with the person you care most about.”

Almark looked straight into the old butler’s eyes and said, “We will protect Wendy.”

Morgan nodded firmly at Almark’s side.

“We will,” Almark insisted. “I promise.”

Almark and Morgan stepped outside through the large doors of the Winter Villa—which had only received quick repairs and were very rickety—and found Wendy waiting for them. She was wearing long sleeves that day.

Almark realized that just like she said, summer was drawing to an end.

“I’ll see you to the gates,” she said with a smile.

“Yeah.”

Unlike the picnic, this time they weren’t chatting. The trio walked through the garden in awkward silence. As the gate came into view, Wendy finally spoke up.

“Thank you for coming. Really.” She then appended with a smile. “Wait for me in the institute, okay? I’ll be back after summer break.”

“Right,” said Morgan.

“We’ll be waiting,” Almark agreed.

“Walking you all the way to the gates would make it hard to say goodbye, so I should probably stop here…,” Wendy said and stopped in her tracks.

“Yeah. Thanks for everything, Wendy,” Morgan told her.

“I should be thanking you two!” Wendy beamed at them.

Almark opened his mouth to say something. Wendy waited for him to say it, too. But the words wouldn’t come out. His heart throbbed.

Should he just say goodbye like this? He felt like he should say something. That in honesty, he should have said something when he saw her crouched before all the bodies on the night of the attack. He should have encouraged her.

Almark couldn’t even tell if he was feeling this way for Wendy’s sake, or just to make himself feel better, and saying something now could be too little too late. But once he left the manor, it absolutely would be too late. What Almark was feeling now wouldn’t reach Wendy if they were to talk after summer vacation. So if he still had a chance, a sliver of a chance to reach her, he had to say something, however trite it might seem.

“Listen…,” Almark started to say, but he ended up unable to say anything else.

Wendy looked at him, and Almark averted his eyes from her in an uncharacteristic show of diffidence and stared out to the garden. That one corner was just in view—the spot where the mercenaries Almark cut down were laid out. The place where Wendy looked down at the mercenaries’ corpses and spoke of her hatred, with all the responsibility of House Baherb resting upon her slumped, slender shoulders.

You don’t have to carry that weight. You have me.

Those hackneyed words wafted up and then faded. That wasn’t what he wanted to convey. Words without substance wouldn’t reach Wendy’s heart. A mere mercenary’s son like him speaking of things he couldn’t understand wouldn’t reach Wendy, who had to live with the responsibilities of a major noble.

A mercenary’s son.

A memory surfaced, one of an exchange he’d had with his father.

“Almark, you’re…”

He hadn’t been able to remember his father’s words from that night. But now he did, and they gave him the one thing he needed to convey.

“Wendy,” Almark said at last.

“Yes?” Wendy looked at him.

“Even after we say goodbye today, there’s one thing I want you to never forget.”

Wendy blinked, her pretty lashes swaying.

“Remember,” said Almark, “we are mages.”

Wendy stared at him, stunned.

“I know it might be strange, coming from someone like me, who can’t cast a single spell yet…”

Almark desperately tried to string his words together, his eyes fixed unwaveringly on Wendy.

Let this reach her.

“Wendy,” he repeated. “We’re mages. Nobles, commoners, mercenaries—no matter where we stand, we are mages.”

Let her understand. Please.

“So I want you to come back to the institute as the Wendy I know.”

Her eyes brimmed with tears.

“I’ll be waiting for you, at Norkh Island,” Almark told her. “At the institute.”

Wendy nodded. Saying nothing, she nodded again and again.

On the way to the white carriage stop with Morgan, Almark thought back to an exchange he’d had with his father.

Illuminated by the light of a campfire, Almark’s father spoke of how no one came to collect the bodies of mercenaries.

“Then if I die in battle, you won’t come get my body?” Almark asked.

His father looked away from the flickering flames and stared Almark in the face. The man’s expression was kind, all too different from the way he looked on the battlefield. He reached out his large hand and tousled Almark’s hair.

“Almark, you’re not going to die on the battlefield,” he said calmly. “You’re gonna become a mage.”

How could he have ever forgotten? He probably buried that moment deep in his memories, because at the time, he’d had no desire to become a mage. His father’s voice, echoing from the deepest reaches of Almark’s memory, filled Almark’s mind like a lamppost illuminating the path ahead.

“You’re gonna become a mage.”

How much emotion did his father put into those words? If only the words he gave Wendy could contain even half of that.

“We are mages,” Almark affirmed one more time.

“Yeah. Me and you and Wendy,” Morgan said beside him. “I’m so happy I got to go on this journey with you, Almark!”

“…Me too. Thank you, Morgan. I’m glad you were here with me.”

The two boys smiled and patted each other on the shoulder as they slowly made their way to the white carriage stop. Above them shone the bright sun of summer’s end.

Side Story: Lingering Snow

Trailing footprints dotted the snowy road.

After awkwardly asking which way to town, the young boy nodded and walked in the direction he was pointed. His cloak, meant to fend off the cold, was frayed and tattered.

A boy this young, traveling by himself. That alone was enough to draw one’s attention. But more distinctive still was the sword he carried on his back, much too large for a child. Just seeing that made it clear to all that this boy was a denizen of the North.

A young boy, crossing from the North into the central plains. Even if he was from the North, a boy this young passing through at the height of harsh winter was an unusual sight here in this town—facing the Menoba Strait.

The Northern lands and the central plains were separated by the Menoba Strait. Its currents were fast and harsh, which was why some called it the Water Dragon Strait. Its tidal currents were unpredictable and treacherous, so much so that even seasoned ferrymen misjudged them at times, and many boats, both large and small, were swallowed into its watery belly.

Be it the season, the time of day, the weather, or some other unknown factor, the speed and intensity of its tidal currents differed from day to day, making the strait’s mood erratic. And to make things worse, the reefs lurking all over the strait impeded the passage of ships.

Indeed, one could claim the presence of this strait was the biggest reason the fighting and wars of the North didn’t bleed into the central plains. And even the present king of the Foretta Kingdom, known as the strongest and most ambitious country in the central plains, did not risk his armies by leading them across the strait.

The only ones who dared cross its waters northward were mercenaries driven by greed and desire. The battlefields of the North were still abundant with success and riches to dream of. A chance to break through glass ceilings and move up in the world, free of the fetters of class and caste that bound the central plains and southern countries.

But in recent times, even such mercenaries were starting to grow scarce. Maybe all the ambitious ones had already crossed over to the North, or maybe the incessant war refined the mercenaries’ mettle so much that newcomers had no place anymore. Either way, ships carrying mercenaries rarely crossed the Menoba Strait nowadays.

Ever so rarely, merchant ships would bring news of the North. And on one such ship was this boy.

“Where is he headed?”

“Does he have family over here?”

“I just hope bandits don’t attack him.”

Spring was well on its way, yet some lingering snow still remained in this town in the northern reaches of the central plains. The townspeople whispered among themselves as they watched the boy walk past, leaving behind small footprints in the snow.

And soon afterward, they forgot all about him.

A two days’ walk south of the port town facing the Menoba Strait was a small post town by the highway. Around dusk, there was a knock on the door of one tavern, which also served as an inn for travelers. The barkeeper opened the door, only to find a boy standing there dressed in a tattered, dirtied cloak, with an oversized sword on his back.

“…What’s your business, lad?” The barkeeper glanced behind the boy. There was no one there. “You alone? What’s a kid need with me?”

“…I’d like to rent a room,” the boy muttered. “I have money…”

“Huh?” The barkeeper’s eyes widened in suspicion, and the boy held up a silver coin.

“I have money,” he said again.

The barkeeper looked the boy up and down and then stared into his face. The boy didn’t look away.

After a long silence, he then said, “You said you got money?”

The boy nodded.

“…I ain’t letting you stay here. Get lost, kid.”

“Huh?” The boy scowled. “But I have money.”

“What, you got dirt in your ears? I said I ain’t letting you stay here.”

And the barkeeper slammed the door in the boy’s face.

Later that night, one of the barkeeper’s regulars told him about the strange boy. Some creepy child with a large sword was turned down in every inn in town and had to sleep under a tree by the town square.

That night was quite cold, with unseasonable snow. The boy could end up cold and stiff by morning.

Late at night, after all the patrons left, the barkeeper took out a lantern and walked over to the town square. Snow was starting to flit down from above. Not enough to pile up, but the cold was scathing, nonetheless.

The boy was seated at a tree’s base, his head hung. He was wrapped up in his cloak to stave off the cold, quivering. But upon hearing the barkeeper’s footsteps, he swiftly undid his cloak and reached for his longsword.

“Whatcha planning to do with that thing, eh?” The barkeeper stopped a good distance away from the boy and spoke. “Do you get it now? Having money on its own isn’t going to get anyone to let you stay here.”

The boy glared at the barkeeper, his eyes radiating suspicion and wariness. He grasped every single motion the barkeeper made.

“You know why that is?”

The boy met the barkeeper’s question with silence.

“Come with me.”

The barkeeper turned on his heel. The boy glared at his back, and eventually, upon seeing he wasn’t turning around, slowly followed him.

After he drank some hot soup, the boy’s face finally regained its color, making him look perfectly alive.

“Liked it?” asked the barkeeper, without a smile.

The boy held his glare in silence, but eventually gave a curt nod. He then untied the leather sack tied to his waist, rummaged through it, and took out a silver coin.

“…I told you I don’t want it,” said the barkeeper. “I’m not here to take away a brat’s money.”

The answer made the boy’s expression contort in confusion.

“But I have been needing an extra hand around here,” the barkeeper continued. “This soup’s mighty expensive. You’ll be working here starting tomorrow.”

The barkeeper assumed the boy would be outraged and storm out or silently sneak away the first chance he got. But he obediently entered the small room he got and toppled onto the simple bed, falling sound asleep. And the next morning, he started working at the inn.

The boy wasn’t one to talk unnecessarily. Whenever he did talk, it was in short, brusque questions (“Like this?”), which the barkeeper corrected:

“Like this, sir.”

The boy proved more sagacious than the barkeeper expected. Once he was given a job, he memorized how to do it after one try. After three days of work, he was able to do just about every task required in the inn. But the suspicion and wariness in his eyes remained.

“Hey, kid, you sure work hard,” one of the bar’s regular patrons called out to the boy one day.

The boy said nothing and simply kept on working.

“I get how he feels, though. You look just like him.”

This regular mentioned the barkeeper’s son, who’d passed away from the plague along with his mother a few years prior.

“It’s like his son’s come back from the dead.”

The boy’s attitude had softened somewhat since that day. He was still as taciturn as ever, but his expression and gestures were no longer as aggressive. Every now and then, the boy would call the barkeeper “Pops.”

One day, a noble and his retinue had to stay at the inn for urgent business. The regulars were all waiting on tenterhooks for the boy to be impolite around them, but the boy spoke to them courteously, much to the barkeeper’s surprise.

The nobles praised him, saying he was a well-educated boy who knew basic arithmetic. The boy simply nodded in silence.

One time, the barkeeper asked the boy where he was headed. He simply replied curtly, “South.”

A month had passed since the boy first showed up. There was a knock on the inn door, followed by a hoarse call.

“It’s a mord!”

The speaker was a man who lived in the neighborhood. The news of a mord made the barkeeper’s expression darken. He went to a house at the edge of town, followed by the boy. There, they found the house’s livestock brutally slaughtered and half-eaten, and the residents of the house were all dead.

The barkeeper told the boy not to look at it. “Call the town guards,” he ordered.

The man nodded grimly.

However, it would take three days for the runner to reach the guards and for them to come over. He could only hope there wouldn’t be another victim by then.

When they returned to the inn that day, the boy suddenly spoke up.

“Pops.”

The barkeeper looked at him.

“I think it’s time for me to leave,” the boy said.

He needed to depart on his journey.

“Aye.” The barkeeper nodded. He’s been here long enough. “Listen,” he cautioned. “All that bloodlust and suspicion you had on you, that was necessary for surviving in the North, but you won’t need it in the central plains and the South.”

This was why no one let him stay at their inn, he explained.

“In only a month, you’ve softened up around the edges. The way you are now, you can stay at any inn. And don’t forget to be polite when you talk to people.”

The barkeeper peered right into the boy’s eyes.

“Your parents taught you that, right? Don’t put them to shame.”

“Yes.” The boy nodded obediently. “Northern mercenaries always repay their debts. Just wait one more day.”

And with that said, the boy walked into the woods at the town’s outskirts, his sword with him. The boy returned a day later, carrying the head of a monster. The townsfolk were in an uproar. This was the head of the mord, the monster that had attacked.

“You hunted it down on your own?” asked the barkeeper, looking stunned.

The boy casually threw the monster’s head onto the ground. “Thank you,” he said. “The soup was delicious.”

He then turned and made to leave. The barkeeper stopped him and hurried back to the inn. He then came back with a leather sack, after he’d prepared for a while.

“Take this.”

He handed the sack to the boy, who checked it. Inside were some dry rations and silver coins.

The boy shook his head. “I can’t accept this.”

“Think of it as a parting gift. If you don’t want it, just dump it here,” said the barkeeper. “It’s a long way south. Watch yourself, boy.”

“Thank you.” The boy bowed his head with gratitude. “My name is Almark. One day, I’ll repay this debt.”

“Don’t worry about it. Take care, kid.”

Seeing the barkeeper dismiss it with a hand wave, the boy said his final words:

“Thank you…Pops.”

He then turned around and left.

The lingering snow was mostly gone, and the spring grass was beginning to sprout along the path. The boy was soon out of sight, disappearing down the sloping road. The barkeeper stood there for a time, gazing at the road where that boy had gone.