The two characters "覚悟" — prepare yourself — were still burned into the back of his eyelids. Léon Crowford gazed out at Falcrest before dawn from the inn window, remembering how he'd read Celes's memo five times over. "Prepare." "Prepare." "Prepare." "Prepare." "Prepare." — the more he read, the more an ominous premonition grew, until he'd pounded the wall twice and gotten yelled at by the guest next door, then couldn't sleep until morning. In the end, the third stage of training never took place. The new memo that arrived last night had only one line added. Written in an elegant hand, concise, a sentence that gouged at Léon's stomach. "Tomorrow at four o'clock, rear entrance of the Raven's Nest. Minimal luggage. Training to be conducted en route due to destination change. —S" (Destination change. "En route." "Training." The fact that someone in this world strung these three words together terrifies me.) Léon slung the leather travel bag over his shoulder and pushed open the wooden door at the rear entrance. The air before dawn was cold, and the stone pavement sank into a pale blue darkness. The rear of the Raven's Nest was a small loading yard, and it was too early for the morning market deliveries, so there should have been no one — or so he thought. Celes Vera was leaning against the cargo bed of a used carriage. Her long silver hair glowed faintly white even in the darkness. Dressed in deep navy travel clothes, her waist lightly cinched with a thin belt. Not her usual alluring dress, but practical attire — yet standing beside the dingy stone wall of the loading yard, she seemed cut from another world entirely. Her violet eyes turned toward Léon. Without a moment's hesitation. "You're late," Celes Vera said. "It's exactly four o'clock," Léon Crowford replied. "Three minutes fifty seconds," Celes Vera said. (Does she really measure down to the second?) Léon looked at the carriage. A two-horse used carriage with paint peeling in places. The canvas cover's seams were coming loose, but more than that— "Isn't this... leaning to the left?" Léon Crowford asked. "The left wheel is slightly warped," Celes Vera said. "Is that going to be okay?" Léon Crowford asked. "It just needs to hold until Vassen County," Celes Vera said. (The way she says "just needs to hold" is terrifying.) Celes climbed in as if it were obvious. The moment Léon stepped onto the cargo bed after her, the carriage tilted sharply to the left. The seat's feel was already biased toward the right side. "This is about two hundred eighty kilometers north from Falcrest, right?" Léon Crowford asked. "The carriage rental has already been entered in the ledger," Celes Vera said. "Being in the ledger doesn't make it more durable, does it!?" Léon Crowford protested. Celes didn't answer. She opened a small notebook and began writing something. The carriage started moving. They passed through Falcrest's north gate, and the stone walls that bordered the royal capital receded behind them. The opposite direction from the Triumph Avenue — the twenty-meter-wide stone road where Léon had been made to walk in a parade after slaying the Dragon King — it was a northern farm road instead. The light of dawn seeped gradually from the ridge of the hills, and the dew on the vegetable fields began to gleam white. For about an hour, the two of them swayed in silence. Léon opened his mouth several times to ask about the content of the third stage training. Each time he saw the movement of Celes's notebook and closed it again. He was certain she wouldn't answer even if he asked. The memory of seeing her profile in the alley last time crossed his mind. That expression visible for just an instant, as if looking at something far away. Whether that was her business face or something else entirely, Léon couldn't tell. A human figure appeared on the ridge of the hill. Léon reflexively placed his hand on the hilt of the Dragon Slayer at his waist — the longsword that gleamed nearly silver-white and had once split the scales of Grand Scale. (Bandits?) The shadow was definitely human-shaped. But it carried neither horse nor weapons. Instead, both hands held something. And it was running. Down the north road at what must be ten-some kilometers per hour, charging straight toward them at full speed. (... A ledger?) "Ah," Léon Crowford murmured quietly. "I thought they would come," Celes Vera said, not lifting her eyes from her notebook. "How did you know!!" Léon Crowford demanded. Even as he spoke, the figure drew closer. A lean, tall frame, a physique exceeding one hundred eighty centimeters, sharp fox-like eyes and a grinning mouth. Light brown curly hair swayed with the force of his running. In both hands: a leather-bound ledger and a wooden abacus. Not a single breath out of place. Godeau jumped onto the rear step of the carriage and adjusted his hat brim with two fingers. "Pardon the intrusion," Godeau said. Léon's mouth fell open. It stayed open for three seconds without making a sound. "You ran here!?" Léon Crowford demanded. "From Falcrest to here is approximately twelve kilometers. The time taken was fifty-eight minutes and seventeen seconds," Godeau said. "Why did you run here!! And you're not even breathing hard!!!!" Léon Crowford shouted. "I was a former adventurer," Godeau said. Godeau opened his ledger. The beads of the abacus clicked softly. "Calculating the hero's current collateral assets—" Godeau began. "I don't want to hear it!!" Léon Crowford said. "The estimated selling price of the Dragon Slayer is approximately nine hundred gold coins, the cash value prospects of the hero title are effectively zero, and other equipment totals approximately fifty coins. Combined total of nine hundred fifty coins. With total debt at two thousand four hundred gold coins—" Godeau continued. "I said I don't want to hear it!!" Léon Crowford shouted. "The collateral value is approximately nineteen percent of the total debt," Godeau finished. Silence fell in the carriage. "... What does that mean?" Léon Crowford asked. "If the hero were to die en route, the recoverable assets would be severely insufficient. It would be problematic if you died. That is all," Godeau said. Léon quietly bowed his head toward the floor of the cargo bed. (There's not a shred of consideration for me. I was told "don't die" as a result of calculation. The weight of my life was completely explained in numbers.) "Fine, sit down," Léon Crowford said. "I'm already sitting," Godeau said. He was already sitting. The ledger open on his lap, the abacus beside it, completely settled in. --- Godeau's travel expense ledger began the moment the horse stopped at the first watering hole. "Horse drinking water, zero point four copper coins," Godeau said. "Wait, the water station on the north road is... free, isn't it?" Léon Crowford asked. "Dividing the daily drinking water cost per horse by distance and converting to a single instance yields zero point four copper coins," Godeau said. "That's a calculated figure, not an actual cost!!" Léon Crowford protested. "To ensure transparency in cumulative costs," Godeau said. Léon tried to take the ledger. Godeau's hand smoothly evaded him. "Evidence material," Godeau said. "Evidence for what!!" Léon Crowford demanded. "Reference material for debt repayment negotiations," Godeau said. Léon tried to take it again. Godeau evaded again. "Evidence material," Godeau said. "Don't say it with the exact same inflection!!" Léon Crowford shouted. Third exchange. Godeau tucked the ledger against his chest. It couldn't be taken. Celes had been looking out the window the whole time. As Godeau's calculations continued, she glanced sideways at the ledger's movements. As if confirming the speed of mental arithmetic. As if confirming the abacus technique. Once, her eyes met Godeau's. For just an instant, Godeau looked back at her with sharp golden eyes. An information broker appraising a debt collector. A debt collector appraising an information broker. That silent exchange ended in less than a second, and both averted their gazes as if nothing had happened. Léon noticed none of this. "You two, please get along," Léon Crowford said. Celes and Godeau looked at him simultaneously. Without saying anything. Léon, receiving their gazes, quietly shrugged his shoulders. --- At dusk, the carriage stopped at a small inn along the north road. A roadside inn — near the midpoint between Falcrest and Northhein, a wooden single-building establishment along the farm road. It operated meagerly as the last inn before the "Twilight Gorge" — an eighty-meter-deep, fifteen-kilometer-long canyon notorious for bandit activity — a difficult passage. When Léon asked the innkeeper how many rooms were available, the answer came back: two. Celes paid for one room's lodging without hesitation. "The hero and your companion, please use the other room," Celes Vera said. "Wait, 'your companion'—" Léon Crowford started. "Share a room," Celes Vera said. Celes disappeared into her room. The door closed. Léon and Godeau stood alone in the hallway. "... I suppose it can't be helped," Godeau said. "It can't be helped, but say something," Léon Crowford said. The room was small. Just one bunk bed and a small table. Godeau said he'd use the lower bunk, so Léon flopped onto the upper one. The candlelight flickered. Godeau spread his ledger on the table and began transcribing today's expenses. The quill pen moved with a sound that echoed regularly in the quiet room. Léon placed a pillow over his face. "Godeau," Léon Crowford said. "Yes?" Godeau replied. "How many line items are in today's ledger?" Léon Crowford asked. "Currently twenty-three items. I've also calculated the time loss cost from the headwind reducing the horse's walking speed by zero point three kilometers per hour," Godeau said. Something was said under the pillow. It couldn't be heard. "Pardon?" Godeau asked. "... Never mind," Léon Crowford said. "Shall I read out today's cumulative debt total? Including interest?" Godeau offered. "Please don't," Léon Crowford said. "Two thousand four hundred fifty-one gold coins and three silver coins. Including the travel expense addition—" Godeau said. The force with which the pillow pressed against Léon's face increased. --- In the room next door, separated by a wall, Celes stood by the window. More than one hundred kilometers north of Falcrest. The sky, freed from the city's light, was black and deep. The number of stars was different. Their density was different. Celes opened a thin notebook and wrote something. Star positions, tilts, light colors. Small symbols lined up at the edge of the notebook. Star reading — a divination technique that interprets future "tendencies" from celestial movements — was working in this form, something Léon had never witnessed. Not calculated performance, not a presentation for clients. Just work. Footsteps sounded in the hallway. Godeau heading to the privy. She recalled when Godeau had spoken to her in the hallway before departure. "Can star reading techniques also read information about the client?" — a question too direct to be mere probing. Precisely because of that, she understood he was measuring something. Celes paused for a second. "Being able to read and being willing to speak are separate matters," she'd answered. Godeau had written something in his ledger. That was all. (What did he write?) Her gaze fell on the notebook's spine. A thin gold embroidered crest. Godeau had caught sight of it in the hallway that morning and his eyebrows had moved slightly. Celes hadn't missed that reaction. Why would a debt collector for the Iron Claw Trading Company react to that crest? (Interesting.) Celes closed the notebook. She returned her eyes to the starry sky. She was reading tomorrow's weather near Vassen County. Clear. Dry wind. Not bad for crossing the go