An Unsettling Presence
Wolf—no, Lillian—felt a quiet warmth bloom in her chest the moment Kaisent finally wore an expression that belonged on a child.
If not for that incident, she and Fredrick would have been married amid everyone's blessings, raising a child just like Kaisent and living out their days in happiness.
Perhaps that was why, every time she looked at him, a subtle sense of vicarious fulfillment stirred within her. Kaisent was earnest, adorable, and so kind he bordered on pure-hearted—exactly the kind of child they had always wanted.
And so lovable, too.
The feeling that Kaisent resembled the child they had longed for was something she could share with Fredrick. The loveliness, however, was hers alone. Just looking at him made her happy. She wanted to press something extra into his hands. Whatever he did, it struck her as admirable and precious—that kind of loveliness.
She had quietly hoped he would use the money to buy something befitting a child. A toy would have been fine. Some cloyingly sweet snack would have been fine, too.
Instead, she was forced once more to confront the bitter reality of a boy who had no choice but to grow up far too soon.
"I'll take this one."
At first he had seemed interested in this and that, but then he had headed for the bookstore, browsed carefully, and settled on a botanical volume titled The Plants of the Continent.
"Why that?"
"Because it lets me learn something about this world—and in the worst case, it might help me survive. The mercenary uncles don't really know this kind of thing."
"……."
Earlier, when she had looked at the orphans, Lillian had felt nothing at all. Kaisent's mature answer, however, filled her with a sharp ache of pity. Whether it was because she projected the child she had wanted onto him, or because the earnestness he had shown until now had simply won her over, even she could not say.
What was certain was that a protective instinct surged up unbidden—an urge to pull off her helmet, reveal herself as Lillian, and comfort him.
"Are you sure that's what you want?"
"Yes. I… I like reading books, too."
Having grasped exactly what she was fretting over, Kaisent reassured her by saying he enjoyed reading. He was so kind, and so thoughtful, that in his home world he must have been surrounded by love and affection, living a happy life.
This child, at least—I have to protect him.
A sense of mission settled over Lillian without her noticing. She stayed close to Wolf's side and headed for the place where they had arranged to meet the rest of the company.
"Hm?"
In that moment, a strange sensation brushed her. Lillian scanned her surroundings. It had lasted only an instant, but it had been unmistakably directed at them—a tangible, shaped presence.
What was that just now?
It resembled the feeling she had once had when an assassin sent by a rival mercenary company had locked onto her. Yet there was no killing intent. The energy was cleanly controlled, and at the same time it carried a clinging, sticky unpleasantness—a thoroughly peculiar aura.
She looked around, but all she saw were mercenaries and merchants bustling past in every direction.
"Captain, we've checked the market prices."
The subordinates she had sent to survey the rates returned just then. Sliding back into Wolf rather than Lillian, she decided to sell only a portion of their goods.
And as the party set out for camp, someone followed them in secret.
True to mercenaries skilled at making camp, by the time Wolf's party returned, the work was nearly finished.
They completed the remaining preparations and were mapping out the days ahead when a man approached them.
"You want to join our company?"
"That's right."
Armor etched with a distinctive crest. A longsword. Features far too neat for a mercenary. And habits, here and there, that still bore the marks of a long life on the road.
Wolf eyed the brown-haired man who claimed he wished to join her company with open suspicion.
"Looking at you, you seem less like a mercenary and more…"
"You wouldn't be wrong to take me for a knight. I am, in fact, a wandering knight."
"And why would a wandering knight go out of his way to join our company?"
Wandering knight or ordinary knight, the title of knight was only granted to those who had cultivated Prana and received formal investiture from a noble. Whatever had driven him onto the road, a wandering knight who chose a mercenary company over seeking a new lord to serve was rare indeed.
"I grew tired of serving nobles swollen with vanity. I wanted work with a bit more adventure to it—but I had no desire to keep company with men of low caliber."
"You don't mean—"
"I do. You are the first and last mercenary who sensed the energy I sent out."
A knight testing his own abilities by becoming an adventurer was not unheard of. The only reason one rarely saw it was that such men almost never started from the bottom; they joined famous adventurers or well-known companies instead.
This is a good opportunity. The fighting ahead is going to be hard—if a knight joins us, the work becomes several times easier.
A knight who had cultivated Prana and could wield mana, even at the lower ranks, fought with the strength of roughly ten mercenaries. On top of that, the special crests gleaming on his armor and sword marked them as enchanted gear. A knight armed with magical equipment was someone no one in the company—save Lillian and Fredrick—could hope to match.
Fredrick urged her not to let the chance slip by. Wolf, however, felt a vague, instinctive revulsion—not as a company captain, but as Lillian.
But the energy he sent that time was far too unpleasant.
If it had merely been a test, the discomfort should not have been so severe. Torn between the perspectives of Captain Wolf and Lillian herself, she decided, this once, to side with Wolf.
"I'll take you on—on one condition."
"What is it?"
"If you treat your comrades poorly just because you're a knight, or because you're strong, our arrangement ends that very day."
"Accepted."
The knight agreed as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"When I first became a wandering knight, that might have offended me. But for all appearances, I've been knocked around quite a while. Call me Kenneth."
"A knight usually has a family name, doesn't he?"
"Hahaha! Didn't you just say not to treat comrades poorly? Revealing a family name would only put distance between us."
A knight who withheld his surname so he could fit in among mercenaries, and who showed an easygoing manner to match. Fredrick took a favorable view of Kenneth—the courtesy of an educated man, the martial power of a knight, and the ability to set pride aside and blend in.
And so Kenneth, newly joined to Wolf's company, worked his way in among the mercenaries who found a wandering knight intimidating.
"Should I move this? For jobs like this, you ought to call the youngest."
"Widen your stance a little more. Power in the hips. Lean the upper body slightly forward. Good. Feel that? The cut has more force behind it now, doesn't it?"
"I can't give my real name out of respect for my former lord's honor, but one day that noble went hunting and came down with a case of the runs so bad he couldn't stop. After that, I learned to laugh off just about any awkward situation."
Showing none of a knight's usual sense of privilege, Kenneth hauled crates, coached fellow mercenaries on their swordwork, and, with a natural gift for getting along, quickly became one of them.
"We've had a stroke of luck this time. Hiring a knight with that kind of rapport so easily…"
"…Yeah."
Fredrick looked on with satisfaction. Wolf, however, could feel the part of herself that was Lillian continuing to recoil from the man.
Why? Why does that man unsettle me so much?
She did not sense that he meant harm to her or the company. Even so, the uneasy conviction that Kenneth had approached them with some purpose of his own never stopped gnawing at her.
Watching him closely right now won't accomplish anything. I'll keep an eye on him over time.
As a new recruit who was also a knight, Kenneth would draw plenty of attention from the others. Whatever his aims, he was unlikely to make a move under these conditions—so for the time being, she decided to leave him alone.
Just as Lillian slipped back into being Wolf, Kenneth, chatting easily with the mercenaries he had befriended, noticed something.
"There's something I've been curious about for a while."
"Hm? What is it?"
"That boy over there. He's far too young to be a mercenary, isn't he?"
"Him? That's Kaisent—an otherworlder. Earnest, good-natured kid. He's got a talent for the bow, and he wanted in himself, so we took him on recently."
"Hmm."
Kenneth watched with interest as Kaisent, finished with the accounts as the company's bookkeeper, headed for the makeshift kitchen to help with the evening meal.
A chill crawled over Kaisent's skin.
"Ugh—?!"
A sensation like insects skittering across him made Kaisent cry out before he could stop himself.
After buying and selling in Munratel until the seriously wounded had recovered enough to count as lightly injured, Wolf's company moved out on the strength of the intelligence they had gathered, intent on hunting greenskins.
The greenskins massing this time numbered roughly four thousand. They had already razed one city and were swelling their ranks from there. Creatures that vicious and driven by pure savagery would never gather peacefully, so Wolf's company set their sights on scouting parties, clusters of greenskins still assembling, and raiding bands out foraging for supplies.
Other mercenaries would think of the same approach—but it also meant drawing near a place where thousands of greenskins were concentrated. Only companies with real courage could commit to the work.
"Chaarge!"
"Waaaah!"
Once the scouts located a temporary greenskin camp, Wolf's company closed in as near as they dared. The instant their eyes met those of the goblins on watch, the order to charge rang out.
Thwip-thwip-thwip-thwip!
A volley from the archers, already drawn and ready, tore into the greenskins. Several of the scrambling creatures toppled with arrows buried in skull or torso.
"Uoooooh!"
Through the gap the archers had opened, Kenneth surged forward in plate armor lightened by enchantment.
"Kyaaak!"
A hobgoblin raised a round shield and lunged to stop him.
Crunch!
But the magic sword, reinforced with enchantment, punched straight through the sturdy wooden shield and drove through the hobgoblin's skull. With a swing that split the head clean down the brow, Kenneth cut down every greenskin in sight and widened the breach.
"We're going too!"
"Can't let the new guy hog all the glory!"
Wolf's company poured through the path Kenneth had carved. The greenskins never managed to form up properly and were cut down one by one until none remained.
"Waaah!"
"Kenneth!"
He was no match for Wolf or Fredrick, but Kenneth had shown exactly why a knight was a knight. Thanks to him, the company took only a few light wounds and claimed a crushing victory.
"Good. With Kenneth helping us, the fights ahead will be that much easier."
Fredrick smiled at the sight of Kenneth delivering a hundred and twenty percent of the performance he had hoped for. After a showing like that, the man would have been entitled to swagger and declare himself superior to the other mercenaries—yet he chatted with them as equals and even took the lead on cleanup.
"Doesn't that strike you as odd?"
"Hm?"
Still unsettled as Lillian rather than Wolf, she finally voiced the doubt she had been carrying.
"I've never once seen a knight that friendly and that willing to take the lead."
"Well… that's true, but…"
Aside from Kenneth, the two of them had encountered wandering knights about four times, and they remembered the arrogance those men had displayed all too clearly. Join any party and they would put you to work as if it were their right; refuse, and they would draw steel and intimidate you into never daring to resist again.
"Every group throws up the occasional odd one out, doesn't it? We're just lucky."
"……."
"I don't know why you dislike Kenneth so much, but the men all like him. Don't let prejudice color things—watch him a little longer."
"All right."
With that, the two of them slipped back into the roles of captain and vice-captain and set about quickly taking heads and collecting loot.
Afterward, Kenneth distinguished himself in several smaller skirmishes and earned the mercenaries' full recognition.
"Hey, kid."
"Yes?"
While they were making camp in a defensible spot for the night, Kenneth approached Kaisent.
"I've been watching you. You're quite diligent. I can call you Kaisent, can't I?"
"Yes… that's fine…"
Kaisent answered timidly and met Kenneth's eyes.
Ugh… every time I look into that man's eyes, I feel strangely sick.
He lacked the nerve to say so outright, so he lowered his gaze and tried to escape the discomfort.
"I once had a squire who was so cowardly he ran off in the middle of a fight. You're young, yet you fight bravely and work hard on top of it. I'd like to offer you a place as my squire."
"A… squire…?"
"A squire? Kaisent! Say yes already! An opportunity like this doesn't come twice!"
A mercenary who happened to be nearby urged him on as if it were his own affair. Becoming a knight's squire meant training under him and receiving instruction toward knighthood. Moreover, a knight could recommend his squire for investiture—making it the one real chance, in a world where commoners almost never escaped their station, to rise to the ranks of the lesser nobility.
Thanks to the nearby mercenary, Kaisent understood what the word meant. His instincts, however, were sounding the alarm louder than ever.
"Ah… I… I'd like a little more time to think about it…"
"What? Think? Why would you need to think about an offer like this?"
"Ah, enough. I've no desire to force the matter."
Kenneth restrained the mercenary who was fretting as if it concerned himself, and offered a good-natured smile.
"I sprang it on you suddenly—of course you'd be flustered. And from what I hear, you're an otherworlder who's only been in this world a little over a month. You don't know this place well enough for the meaning of becoming a squire to truly sink in."
"Mm… that's true, but…"
"My offer stands whenever you're ready. Come find me later, if you like."
With that, he gave a light wave and walked off.
"Huh. He gets turned down for a squire and just walks away cool as you please. I've seen plenty of knights, but I've never met one with a temperament that good."
The mercenary beside him praised Kenneth's character and grumbled that the offer should have come to him instead.
Unlike that mercenary, Kaisent only felt the churning in his chest settle once Kenneth was gone.
Why is this happening? Why do I feel so uneasy around that man?
Kaisent found it strange, but he soon pushed the thoughts aside and turned to the flour dough for the meal preparations.
Greenskins might not match beasts, but they had a keener sense of smell than humans, so fragrant stews or roasted meat were out of the question. That left them with something closer to rock-hard, thoroughly baked hardtack for their meals.
Kaisent set aside his own portion, soaked it in water, managed to get it down, and then opened the book he had bought in the city.
Feeling the texture of paper for the first time in his life, he absorbed new knowledge amid a mixture of discomfort and wonder.