The morning air was colder than yesterday. Raid had fallen asleep with his grimoire pressed against the desk, and when he opened his eyes, the imprint of paper was marked on his cheek. He sat up and rotated his neck in a circle. There was an unpleasant creaking sound. "Perhaps I'm pushing this forty-two-year-old body too hard," Raid muttered to himself. After speaking, he looked out the window. Something like a flag was fluttering in the morning wind that swept across the plateau. It was a color he didn't recognize. Raid furrowed his brow, grabbed his upper garment, and went outside. People had gathered in the village square. No—not just people. There were horses. Eight armed men. And at the front—a young woman with reddish-brown hair tied back, sitting upright on horseback with perfect posture. It was an advance unit of the Imperial Knights. A reconnaissance and civilian liaison unit sent ahead before the Empire's deployment to the frontier. Usually they operated in squads of five to twenty members, moving more lightly than regular knights, but their priority for reinforcement requests was low. Raid knew it was a dangerous role. The woman leading the unit kept her horse still, surveying the entire village from the edge of the plateau. Her transparent green eyes moved slowly. He could tell she was reading the terrain. The northeast ridge, the stone building at the village's edge, the position of the medicinal herb shed. Her gaze moved like puzzle pieces being gathered, and finally— Her eyes met Raid's. One second. The woman's gaze stopped there, then slowly moved away. It was the look of someone confirming something. The villagers were tense. The arrival of Imperial knights was not necessarily good news for frontier folk. Tax collection, conscription, or perhaps "relocation recommendations"—which was just forced expulsion by another name. He could hear the anxious whispers of the elders. As for Raid, he was sitting in a chair under the eaves of the Red Tile Tavern, continuing his breakfast with the leftover lamb stew from last night. Toba came over with a bowl and spoke in a low voice. "Aren't you going to greet them?" Toba asked. "My back hurts," Raid replied. "That's it?" Toba asked. "That's it," Raid said. He brought the spoon to his mouth. The stew was cold, but not bad. The sound of hoofbeats drew closer. Raid didn't look up. "Pardon the intrusion," a voice said. It was lower than expected. A crisp, clipped voice with all emotional inflection stripped away. Only then did Raid stop his spoon and look up. Seen up close, the impression became much clearer. She was about one hundred seventy-five centimeters tall. Even under the leather armor, you could see her core was stable. There was a shallow scar on her left cheek, which further emphasized the sharp lines of her face. Her reddish-brown hair was tied back, and her green eyes held a clear, unwavering will. Early twenties, perhaps. Young. Yet her bearing and demeanor possessed a composure beyond her years. "I am Aira, Vice-Commander of the Imperial Knights' advance unit. I have come to provide defensive support for Wind-View Village," she said in a courteous tone. But her eyes flicked briefly at Raid's breakfast before facing forward again. There was something contained in that single moment. Raid placed his bowl on his lap and slowly stood up. His back was tight. Keeping it from showing on his face, he gave a small cough. "I'll skip the welcome ceremony. Back pain, you see," Raid said. Aira's eyebrow moved slightly. "...May I point out a lack of courtesy?" Aira asked. "Go ahead," Raid replied. "I shall point it out," Aira said. "Thank you. I heard it," Raid said. "Is that all?" Aira asked. "That's all. I left courtesy in the imperial capital during my active years. Now I live with back pain," Raid said. The villagers around them could be heard stifling their laughter. Toba had her hand to her mouth, shoulders shaking. Aira's expression didn't change. Only for a moment did something seem to flicker in the depths of her green eyes. So this is the man who was once the Empire's greatest mage—you could tell that's what she was thinking, even without reading her expression. Raid didn't even smile wryly. It was the truth, after all. * * * At dusk, a map was spread across a table in the back of the Red Tile Tavern. Toba had driven out the regular patrons and wiped down the table for them. On the table that still smelled of sheep fat, Aira unfolded a map written in the standard format of the Imperial Knights. Carefully marked directions and distances, with red marks at the village's entrances and exits. "As our basic strategy, we will install a fence on the east side of the village. For the magnetooth beast swarm—large magical beasts that magnetically attract metal equipment—we will narrow the passage with wooden stakes and rope. We will construct a defensive line combining eight knights and the village men, with a retreat route to the northwest valley," Aira explained. It was textbook frontier defense doctrine. Not bad. However— Raid silently pulled out a rolled piece of paper from his sleeve. Hastily scrawled notes he'd written yesterday morning during a break from chopping firewood. He unfolded it on the table. Overlaying Aira's map. "Do you know about the Spinwind River?" Raid asked. "The eastern tributary on the map, correct?" Aira replied. "The current changes with the seasons. Right now it flows from east to northeast. The wind direction on the plateau is almost the same. Magnetooth beasts hunt by scent. If we position ourselves downwind, they'll be guided along the riverbank," Raid explained. Aira's hand stopped on the map. "If we try to handle both the magnetooth beasts and the possibility of human units mixed in—the militant faction of the Crimson Claw Tide—with the same defensive line, it will collapse. Use wooden obstacles to guide the magnetooth beasts, and use long-range magical suppression from the plateau's edge against the human units. A two-stage approach," Raid said. Silence. Aira didn't look up from the map. She was slowly tracing Raid's hastily written notes. Her green eyes narrowed. The information written there clearly exceeded her expectations. "...As advice from a former mage, it is helpful," Aira said. Raid laughed quietly. He knew she wanted to say something different internally, but that was all that came out of her mouth. He'd always been confident in his ability to read people's faces. "Twenty years ago, I would have pretended not to notice, but as you get older, you get better at reading people's expressions," Raid said. "...What are you trying to say?" Aira asked. "I'm saying you're a bit bad at hiding your surprised face," Raid said. Aira's cheek stiffened slightly. She understood that admitting it would be her loss, and denying it would also be her loss. Instead, she changed the subject. "Then you must also be able to accurately assess your current combat capability," Aira said. Now it was Raid's turn to fall silent. Sharp. "I'm calculating it while consulting with my back pain," Raid said. At that moment, Toba's voice came from behind the counter. "It's just like a married couple arguing," Toba said. Both of them turned toward the voice at the same time. "That's not it," Raid and Aira said simultaneously. Their phrasing was different, but their timing was perfectly synchronized. The remaining villagers around the table couldn't help but laugh. Aira closed her mouth, Toba shrugged and returned to the kitchen. Effectively, that night's defense meeting ended with Raid's plan being adopted. * * * The next morning, Raid was looking out the window of the Red Tile Tavern. Holding a bowl of medicinal herb liquor in both hands, he watched Aira giving instructions to the advance unit members on the east side of the village. Her voice didn't reach him, but he could tell from her gestures that she was explaining the terrain. A unit member ran off. Confirmed the terrain. Returned. Aira said something else. Crisp. Efficient. Toba came to stand beside him, looking in the same direction. "You remind me of how you used to be," Toba said. Raid paused for a beat. Then he brought the bowl to his lips. The bitterness of the medicinal herb liquor spread across his tongue. "Is that so," Raid said. With just that, he turned his gaze away from the window. * * * Late at night. In the stone shed, Raid had a grimoire open. Last night, he'd found one error. The expansion sequence of the magical circuit. Trying to expand from the peripheral circuits was the mistake—he needed to gradually extend from the body's main circuit, or the pressure would disperse and cause collapse. In theory, that's what should happen. He had to verify it. Raid placed the grimoire on the floor and stood up. He stood in the center of the room. Wind from outside seeped thinly through the gaps in the stone walls. A deep breath. Then—he activated the spell. This time was different. He concentrated his consciousness on the body's main circuit, then carefully, gradually expanded from there. The burning sensation was the same as before, but the heat seemed to spread more evenly this time. Just a little more. Just a little more. Silver threads of light surfaced beneath the skin of his arms. Thicker than last time, deeper than last time. The magical circuit expanded with a grinding sound, a noise that seemed to come from inside the bone. That was as far as it went. The connection point between the main circuit and the peripheral circuits exceeded its limit simultaneously. The expanded circuit burst from within, and the backflowing magical power burned the nerves. A sensation like the entire body flashing white for just an instant— He collapsed to the floor with a thud. His consciousness was distant. The cold stone floor felt pleasant against his cheek. * * * The door was kicked open. It was Aira. During a night patrol, she'd seen the abnormal silver light leaking from the window and without hesitation kicked down the door—she explained it that way later. In this moment, she simply burst into the room, saw Raid collapsed on the floor, and dropped to her knees. "Raid!" Aira cried out. No response. Following the field emergency treatment procedures of the knight order, Aira made her assessment. Temperature check. Pulse check. Breathing check—shallow, but present. And to check for bodily damage, she began to remove his upper garment— Her hand stopped. In the lantern light, Raid's upper body was exposed. There were sword wounds. An old, completely healed scar running diagonally from below his right collarbone. Burns on his shoulder. On his left side, a radiating scar pattern as if something had exploded there. And on his left arm—pale blue scars ran from elbow to shoulder. Marks of magical fusion. Scars she'd known about from the beginning. But now, beside those scars, fresh burns from tonight were bleeding red. Countless scars were carved into this man's body. Each one was a record written not in words but in skin. How long, how harsh a place he had lived through—it was all here. Aira continued the treatment. She draped his upper garment over him to raise his body temperature, and to check for nerve burns from the magical backflow, she examined the damaged areas with her fingers. She checked the scar on his side, his shoulder, then moved to his arm. The trail of silver light still remained beneath the skin of his arm. It pulsed slowly, flickering. Evidence that the magical circuit hadn't fully returned to normal yet. Aira's fingers moved along that trail. As part of the treatment procedure, naturally. That was all she intended. Raid's body trembled slightly. It was an unconscious reaction. Just a nerve response in a state of unconsciousness—she understood that. She understood it, yet her hand stopped there. There was body heat at her fingertips.