"Yohan is to the north. If you face the Pen-Hanil mountain range directly and cross to the northeast, you'll find a small cave. Passing through it leads to the 'Hill of Stars,' and from there, if you take a wide detour to the east, you'll arrive. It's near the Imperial Territory."
Magrun spoke as if he had never coughed up blood, his face looking perfectly fine. Enkrid had wandered the continent as a guide in the past.
Compared to Ragna, his sense of direction was on par with the continent's strongest knights. But when compared to an ordinary guide, it was just enough to avoid going hungry.
Even with that level of perception, Magrun's words painted a clear enough picture in Enkrid's mind.
The route wasn't as complex as expected, which led to a realization.
'Yohan isn't unknown because it's hard to find.'
To be honest, the city and village where Enkrid was born and raised were better hidden than Yohan.
'It's not that they're hiding their paths; they've simply never sought fame.'
Yohan does not step forward, nor does it promote its name.
There's not even the slightest intention of spreading or publicizing its existence.
'Or maybe someone in the past had that thought, but someone else put a stop to it.'
His thoughts wandered freely.
Occasionally, his mind would map out the ripple effects, patterns, and mechanics behind certain events—something that Krais had once praised as a remarkable talent.
Inferring the unseen from the visible—indeed, a gift. Enkrid continued his train of thought with a question.
'Why was it stopped?'
If he posed this question to Krais or Abnaier, they would likely have an answer in no time.
Even without detailed information, those two could probably deduce the general direction the Yohan family pursued.
And even now, Enkrid could already guess the reason.
"The Imperial Territory?"
Enkrid asked as he took a bite of a sweet potato baked in an oven, delivered fresh from Aspen. It crumbled easily under his molars, offering only the slightest resistance.
A rich, sweet flavor spread through his mouth.
When paired with pickled radish, the two flavors merged in a delightful harmony. It was delicious.
"I said it was nearby, didn't I? Yohan is an independent city located close to the Imperial Territory."
Magrun's words held the answer.
He, too, peeled a sweet potato and took a bite.
Watching him blow on it to cool it down, it was hard to believe that this was the same man who had been coughing up blood just days ago.
He had even sparred with Enkrid at dawn.
Though Magrun claimed to be fine, it was Anne who specialized in such matters. And since Ann had nodded in confirmation, there was no reason to doubt it.
'An independent city, huh?'
A group with that level of military power existed in the vicinity. If Enkrid were a ruler, how would he perceive them?
'A threat.'
Or, possibly, an opportunity.
Either they would be taken in, or they would be eliminated. But the Empire had done neither.
It had left Yohan alone. Yohan's people weren't hiding.
Those who knew about them knew both their existence and their location. 'And yet, they remain untouched.'
There had to be a reason the Empire chose to leave them alone.
From a strategic standpoint, it was akin to ensuring that an enemy had no reason to attack. 'And they must have also made it clear that any miscalculated move would cost dearly.'
Eliminating them would require the Empire to pour in significant resources—perhaps even losing an arm in the process.
And so, they were left alone.
Enkrid recalled something he had heard from Krang.
"The Imperial Territory is amusingly well-shielded. To the central continent, it has the Pen-Hanil mountain range acting as a natural barrier. To the west, there's the great forest where the King of Beasts is said to reside, serving as another shield. And to the east…"
He hadn't paid attention to the rest of the explanation, but now he had a good idea of what that eastern shield was.
'Yohan.'
They were likely one of those protective barriers.
With a scrape, Grida dragged a chair closer and added,
"The Empire claims to have no ties with Jaun, but some from their family who don't fit in end up becoming Imperial knights. So, while there's no official connection, they're not completely separate. In fact, they have a friendly relationship—because they have to."
What happens when neighboring nations aren't on good terms?
The ongoing strife between Naurilia and Aspen was a perfect example. Endless war.
"We'll be riding horses for most of the way, but at some point, we'll have to proceed on foot." Magrun added.
Enkrid nodded and turned his gaze.
The dining hall's entrance was massive, large enough for five Audin to stand side by side as they passed through.
According to Krais, a large door was necessary to accommodate the transport of supplies. It made sense.
Knights consumed a lot.
Though their numbers barely reached ten, their food consumption exceeded that of an entire company.
This was why a special wartime knight's ration had been devised. Through that enormous doorway, Ragna came into view.
Beside him stood Ropord.
As he finished his breakfast, Enkrid overheard their conversation. Not intentionally—he could hear it clearly even without trying.
"Ropord, don't be fixated on efficiency alone."
The two were wielding wooden swords, not real ones. Ragna spoke as he swung his weapon.
If a knight swung, even a rotting branch could become deadly. Let alone a wooden sword.
They could shatter logs with their bare hands—what couldn't they do?
Ragna raised his wooden sword to the sky—an overhead stance.
From there, he performed a downward cut but changed the direction mid-swing just as the sword became parallel to the ground.
In a single fluid motion, he stepped forward with crossed feet and thrust.
It sounded simple, but it was a technique requiring beast-like physical control. And Enkrid could read the meaning behind the technique.
'Valen-style Mercenary Swordsmanship.'
Deception to gain the upper hand—this was the philosophy behind Valen-style swordsmanship. And the path of Ragna's sword showed precisely that.
Ropord saw the sudden change in trajectory and attempted to block. He, too, was a formidable fighter.
He barely managed to parry the thrust.
A sharp clatter echoed as the two wooden swords met in midair. 'Bind.'
A technique where weapons are locked together.
Ragna pressed his sword against Ropord's and advanced once more, stepping forward with his crossed feet.
A surprising, unconventional attack.
While maintaining the bind, Ragna pushed forward and lightly tapped Ropord's cheek with the hand gripping his sword.
Tok.
There would be no shock—at least, not to the body. The mind, however, might still reel.
This easily?
He wasn't overwhelmed by power or speed, nor was he outmaneuvered. Then why?
Ropord's thoughts were tangled in confusion. As Enkrid watched, Ragna spoke once more.
"Don't limit your movements."
It was precisely what Ropord needed to hear. His eyes shone.
He was pushing past his limits, and it was clear to anyone watching. Step by step, even if just half a step a day, he steadily progressed.
Ragna was guiding him towards what he needed most at this moment. And it didn't stop there.
Gone was the usual lazy man—standing there was someone entirely different.
"This time, I'll teach you how to momentarily squeeze every ounce of strength from your muscles for a strike. The Rotational Slash of the Greatsword."
The pace was almost too fast for Ropord to follow.
A slacker like him would never have done this before.
"You've changed too much."
Grida murmured as he watched. Perhaps it was Enkrid's influence? It was a passing thought.
After all, Enkrid was someone who naturally changed those around him.
Even Grida herself, in just a few months, had come to enjoy pushing her body to its limits. Enkrid had a way of making training seem fun.
"Haven't you said you left because you were sick of the sword?"
Magrun chimed in, glancing at Enkrid.
The very person who had brought a disillusioned genius back from the depths of apathy stood right there.
How had he done it?
Of course, Magrun had a hunch.
People as serious about both training and life as Enkrid were rare—perhaps nonexistent. This sincerity was likely the reason behind such changes.
While the two mulled over their thoughts, Enkrid suddenly spoke.
"What the hell is he doing?"
His voice was filled with shock. Grida and Magrun turned to him. Why are you surprised?
Their gazes asked.
Enkrid read their expressions and answered,
"I don't know either. Seeing him like this is kind of terrifying."
He meant it. Of all people, Ragna was the last person he expected to act this way. The two from Yohan watched in disbelief. After finishing his lesson, Ragna wiped his sweat with a towel and walked into the dining hall. It was an ill-fitting sight. He had trained hard, broken a sweat, and spent his free time teaching Ropord. And it wasn't just Ropord. On his way in, he ran into Squire Clemen, who had stumbled to the ground in a previous war.
"Grab your sword."
"...What?"
Clemen knew Ragna.
With how frequently she visited the knights' quarters, it was impossible not to. Yet her surprise was evident.
To be honest, it was the first time Ragna had ever directly spoken to her. Normally, even when called, Ragna wouldn't even bother responding properly. Half in a daze, Clemen obeyed and drew her sword.
"Practice changing your grip freely. But hold it firmly enough that you won't drop it ."
Brief, but effective guidance. Clemen, still dazed, gave a salute. Her expression asked, What's gotten into you? Ragna took his seat for his meal, glancing at the three pairs of eyes fixed on him.
"When someone leaves, what remains behind? A question worth pondering."
Ragna suddenly sounded wise—whether he had swallowed the Philosopher's Stone or drank the blood of a sage was up for debate. Either way, it was incredibly annoying. It was like Rem pretending to be meek. Like Jaxen acting cheerful and claiming the world was beautiful. Instinctively, Enkrid swung his cup. Water sloshed and landed perfectly atop Ragna's hair. Something had to be done about whatever had possessed him. Enkrid had once heard that Rem sometimes responded to this kind of exorcism.
So, with full sincerity, he declared, "Begone, evil spirit."
A brief silence settled over the dining hall. A trainee carrying food paused mid-step and quietly retreated. He had decided, for the sake of his sanity, to pretend he neither saw nor heard anything.
"What are you doing?"
Ragna neither got angry nor questioned it. He simply looked at Enkrid, unfazed.
That gaze irritated Enkrid deeply.
It was the look of an adult indulging a child's antics.
Or worse, it was just like the way Rem looked at him sometimes.
"When someone changes suddenly—"
Enkrid lashed out, feeling cornered.
"Yes, they'll die."
Ragna countered instantly.
After a brief exchange, Enkrid felt utterly defeated.
Has he grown?
He wasn't ignoring him or pretending not to understand. He was simply standing his ground with unwavering calm. Behind Ragna, Enkrid could almost imagine an older man clicking his tongue, muttering, You know exactly what you're doing.
"Everyone needs to be serious sometimes."
Magrun, who had been passionately discussing swordsmanship with him just moments ago, suddenly withdrew.
This bastard.
Enkrid turned to him in disbelief. Then Grida spoke up.
"You can't banish spirits like that. You'd need an enchanted sword or a similar tool… not plain water."
As if I didn't know that. Enkrid swallowed his retort. No—he had to swallow it. Any kind of excuse would only make things worse.
"Stop bothering my fiancé, you wretched spirits." Shinar walked in at that moment.
With fairy-like hearing, she had likely caught the entire conversation from outside. Ragna, ever detached, simply nodded as if acknowledging some deep truth. Enkrid could no longer argue. He truly couldn't grasp what had changed in Ragna. But he wasn't about to press the issue. People change when given the right reason. Enkrid had simply been reminded of that fact once again.
"Well… I guess anything is better than being lazy."
With that, he stood and made his way toward Krais. When Krais saw him leaving yet again, his eyes narrowed into slits. It was clear he wouldn't be happy about it. Before leaving, Enkrid would have to take care of a few things. Not because he was running away.
Definitely not because of that.
"Retreat is a good strategy. I'll hold them off. My fiancée, go."
With a resolute expression, Shinar stood behind Enkrid to cover him. This was after hastily handling the affairs of the domain for two days.
"Return safely."
Krais generously provided Krona and riding horses.
It was said that the horse breeding efforts in Green Pearl had been a great success. The horses he brought now had glossy manes and sharp, focused eyes.
"Then, let's go."
In just a few days, Anne had hurriedly learned how to ride.
Enkrid then set out with the three from the Yohan family, Ragna, and Anne.
"On the way back, please, just leave that bastard behind."
Rem sent them off with a mix of concern and mischief.
Hearing the comment directed at him, Ragna gave Rem a long, steady look. His eyes often resemble deep, unfathomable waters lately.
"What? You wanna fight?"
Rem reacted, but Ragna answered with words instead of hostility.
"Rem, I respect the life of a barbarian. You must have had to live through constant struggle. Otherwise, you wouldn't have survived."
With that, Ragna turned away.
Clatter, clatter.
The horse carrying him trotted out of the training grounds.
"…Did he hit his head too hard?"
Even Rem was caught off guard by the unexpected response.
"That's not the way," Anne remarked, urging her horse forward to follow Ragna.
Strangely enough, despite being well-trained, the horse Ragna was riding moved entirely on its own.