He had been shut up in the cottage for three days. Leyd stepped outside when the eastern sky began to pale. As he pushed open the stone door, the morning wind sweeping across the plateau brushed against his face. Cold. It seeped into his body. Yet there was a refreshing clarity, as if he'd been released from three days of suffocation. His lower back ached. That hadn't changed. But his legs moved. That was enough. He began walking slowly toward the village square. The ground beneath his feet was damp. It must have rained lightly last night. The smell of grass. A scent unique to this village—a mixture of pasture grass and medicinal herbs. "There you are." The voice came suddenly. At the edge of the square, in front of the medicinal herb processing shed, Aira stood waiting. She had just returned from patrol; morning dew glistened on the shoulders of her leather armor. Her lustrous reddish-brown hair was tied back, and her transparent green eyes fixed on Leyd in a straight line. The eyes of someone who had been searching. "Thought I'd try stepping outside for the first time in three days," Leyd said. He'd meant to say it with self-deprecating lightness, but Aira's response came from an unexpected angle. She walked toward him without a word and extended her hand smoothly. Before Leyd could move, Aira's fingers had grasped his left wrist. It wasn't tight. But it was a certain, deliberate force. "...What are you doing?" Leyd asked. "Taking your pulse. And your temperature," Aira said. Speaking matter-of-factly, she pressed her fingers to the pulse point on his wrist. It was the exact procedure of field first aid. Her index and middle fingers found the pulse location with precision. He could tell immediately it was a technique drilled in through training. Leyd didn't resist. There was no point resisting someone like this. He'd learned that much in three days. "...Normal," Aira said. "Yeah, I thought I was normal too," Leyd replied. "The three days of sleep and rest have already been collected. Regardless of your will," Aira said. Her face was completely serious. Leyd studied that face for a moment. Was she joking, or was she serious? Her green eyes were utterly earnest, with no hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth. "...I see. Collected," Leyd said. "Yes," Aira replied. "Give me back my three days," Leyd said. "I have no intention of returning them. They were used effectively," Aira said. As Leyd ran out of words and found himself at a loss in the space between them, a light, cheerful laugh came from behind. "Well, well, you two are getting along," Toba said. Toba stood in the doorway of the Red Tile Tavern, arms crossed. His gray hair was tied back, and still wearing his apron, he had the look of someone thoroughly observing the scene. "You've become like a married couple in three days," Toba said. Both of them turned around at the same time. "That's not it," Aira said. "It's not," Leyd said. Exactly the same timing. Exactly the same meaning. Toba grinned. He said nothing more. But his smile conveyed something mixed with exasperation and amusement—"there they go with the same pattern again." From beyond the medicinal herb processing shed, two young soldiers from the advance guard peeked out furtively. (It seems a spectator culture is forming,) Leyd thought. Not particularly welcome. * * * Work began before noon. Installing wooden fences along the plateau edge and placing obstacles downstream in the Spinwind River—the small river flowing east of the village, extending down below the plateau. Aira had planned it, and Leyd read the terrain and made adjustments. Work proceeded with this division of labor. The village men and soldiers from the advance guard moved with axes and rope, while Leyd and Aira stood at the plateau's edge giving instructions. "This slope is at least forty degrees. We'll need foundation work before setting up the fence," Leyd said. He spoke while testing the ground beneath his feet. "How deep is the bedrock?" Aira asked. "Based on the plateau edge characteristics, about fifty centimeters from the surface. Wooden stakes should be fine. If we change the knot pattern, we can stabilize it to match the slope," Leyd said. Aira paused for a beat. Her gaze moved back and forth between the terrain, Leyd's words, and the diagram in her hand. She was considering. A conclusion came. "...Approved," Aira said. A short approval. A brisk, stripped-down voice. This kind of exchange happened five times during the morning alone. Leyd would provide reasoning, Aira would pause for a beat and say "Approved." Each time, the direction of work became clearly defined. They fit together. Leyd thought so honestly. Aira didn't act on emotion. If there was reasoning, she accepted it; if not, she questioned it. Work was very easy with her. Except— "Once we get eighty percent into the safe zone, we'll be outside the magnetooth beast's path," Leyd said. Aira tilted her head quietly. "The remaining twenty percent will die," Aira said. "...Then ninety percent," Leyd said. "One percent will die," Aira said. "You're a perfectionist," Leyd said. "I'm a knight," Aira said. Two young soldiers working with rope at a distance away shook their shoulders slightly. Stifling laughter. Hearing but pretending not to hear—quite a skillful act. Leyd committed the answer "I'm a knight" to memory. For some reason, that single phrase seemed remarkably apt. * * * They took their midday break at the edge of the medicinal herb processing shed. While chewing on dried meat and black bread that Toba had brought, the two gazed out together toward the east of the plateau. The ridgeline of the Jade Peak Range was a hazy blue. Today there was mist, making the mountains appear farther than usual. Silence continued for a while. Aira spoke after she'd eaten about half her black bread. "May I ask about your classmates from the Imperial Magical Academy?" Aira asked. Her voice carried the intent of information gathering. A question for investigation, stripped of emotion. Leyd understood. Yet—he answered. "Classmates," Leyd said. After a pause, still gazing at the Jade Peak Range, Leyd began to speak. "There was an excellent man. His grasp of formula theory was better than mine. The Luminous Mark Academy—the only magical education institution officially recognized by the empire, where those with magical power learn from basics to practical application of formulas, a seven-year curriculum—even after completing that course, he continued analyzing old formulas alone. He solved a formula in three days that I couldn't crack, and he wrote notes in my formula book," Leyd said. Leyd smiled slightly. A bitter smile. "At first, I was angry. But...he was an interesting man," Leyd said. Aira said nothing. She was listening. "One day, that man's eyes changed," Leyd said. His tone dropped slightly. "Eyes that began weighing something against something else to gain something. I've seen people with eyes like that during the Third Frontier War—the last of three long wars fought over the eastern frontier, the borderlands of the empire. When people get eyes like that on the battlefield—usually, the answers they choose change," Leyd said. There, Leyd stopped speaking. His gaze fell to the dried meat. He took a bite. Chewed and swallowed. Then he said, "Well, it's ancient history." Briefly. Conclusively. Aira didn't ask for his name. Leyd didn't offer it. The autumn wind swept through the eaves. The dry scent of medicinal herbs mixed with the smell of pasture grass carried from afar. Nothing was resolved. Nothing was revealed. Yet—the outline of what remained unspoken quietly existed between them, singular and present. "Let's continue," Aira said. Aira stood up. Her voice was calm. But to Leyd, it seemed as though she had accepted that story somewhere within herself. * * * It happened around dusk, when they were working on fence installation on the steep slope at the plateau's edge. The moment Leyd stepped on the ground, stone cried out. A sharp, unpleasant sound. The next instant, the ground beneath him crumbled. Old bedrock stone gave way, his left foot stepping into empty air. His body tilted forward—the plateau edge slope was forty degrees. If he fell, he wouldn't stop. (Ah, this is bad.) The moment he thought it, his arm was seized. Aira's hand. She grasped his left arm with her right hand, wrapping her left arm around his back. She pulled him toward her, stopping the collapse. His feet found ground with a dull thud. Leyd's body was drawn against Aira's chest, his posture restored. The distance between them became zero. Aira's body heat transmitted through his shirt. Warm. Far warmer than he'd expected. Heat from her body seeped through the gaps in her leather armor, a sensation of warmth seeping out. Leyd's breathing hitched for a beat. Aira's breathing was also irregular. In the recoil of being pulled close, her breath reached near his neck. Fast. Despite not having run, that speed of breathing—Leyd understood it clearly. One second, or two. During that time, neither moved. Aira's arm remained around Leyd's back, and both were simultaneously aware that their breathing had quickened. There was temperature. There was weight. This distance was the result of Aira's deliberate intention, not chance. Aira released her arm. One step back. Two steps, creating distance. "Don't neglect to check your footing," Aira said. Her voice came out with a beat of delay. Leyd noticed. Her tone was businesslike, but—it definitely came out a beat late. "...Yeah," Leyd said. He answered briefly. He said nothing more. From a distance, Toba watched the two of them. Arms crossed. With eyes as if confirming something. But he said nothing. * * * After finishing the remaining work, Aira examined Leyd's wrist. "Your bandage is coming loose," Aira said. As she spoke, she crouched down. Leyd instinctively tried to pull his hand away, but Aira's fingers had already grasped the edge of the bandage. He was stopped. "...It's fine," Leyd said. "Whether it's fine or not is for me to judge," Aira said. There was nothing to say in return. Aira's fingers rewound the bandage. Meticulous, careful movements. Even pressure, neither too loose nor too tight. And— When passing along the inside of his wrist, Aira's fingertip traced the path of the magical circuit. The place where a faint blue scar ran. The mark of magical fusion. Her index finger followed it slightly. Something within Leyd moved faintly. Not heat. But not numbness either. A sensation like the memory remaining in the circuit responding thinly to being touched. Leyd didn't avert his eyes. Aira's hand had become slightly more careful. She might not have noticed. But Leyd could see it. The movement of her fingertips had become more meticulous than necessary for the act of rewinding the bandage. She tied off the bandage and released his hand. She stood up. She didn't look at Leyd. She looked beyond the plateau. No words passed between them. * * * The midnight watch fell to them. At the lookout platform on the plateau edge—a watchtower at four hundred twenty meters elevation—Leyd and Aira built a fire and waited for the shift change. The wind was cold, and the flames burned low and flickering. They watched the eastern ridgeline. The redness had deepened from last night. The sky beyond the Jade Peak Range was faintly stained. Evidence that the Dawn Claw Tide—the eastern invasion force that called itself the Hungry Dawn's Hand—was moving beyond Eagle Pass. Only sixty kilometers east to Windview Village. It was approaching. Certainly. Only the sound of the fire continued. A small pop as it crackled. The flame's shadow swayed at their feet. After a while, Aira spoke. Her voice was quiet, without intent. "When I was young—I lost someone close to me," Aira said. That was all. There was no continu