It was a moonless night.

  In one corner of the royal capital, torchlight illuminated the area where a large group of men were carrying bags filled with wheat.

  One bag weighed two kan*—and they had already moved a thousand bags that had been marked as sold and removed from the Grain Guild’s inventory.

  (*1 kan = 3.75 kg)

  Another five hundred bags were still to be transported.

  The silver coins entrusted by Fidelius totaled roughly five thousand. After deducting the cost of the salt and wheat already supplied, and taking a thirty-percent cut as profit for the grain procurement, the remaining two thousand nine hundred and forty coins had all been converted into wheat.

  “Looking at it like this, it’s an incredible amount,” Kratos said, gazing up at the mountain of stacked bags.

  “Indeed. As war preparations, it still might not be enough.”

  “Are we moving these every night?”

  “Yes. It will take about a week.”

  Denaro answered calmly.

  The export stock had been completely wiped out.

  Naturally, it would have no effect on the wheat market price.

  “By May, the winter-wheat harvest will be finished. The warehouses here will be full again. We were lucky to clear inventory at such a good time.”

  This man really is a merchant through and through, Kratos thought, and found it strangely amusing.

  “Tragia seems serious.”

  “Yes. Stopping the salt supply and the discovery of my brother’s imprisonment—anger is only natural.”

  And the one who lit that fire was none other than himself.

  “How long until open war, in your estimation?”

  Denaro folded his arms and tilted his head.

  “…Honestly, I don’t know. It depends on how long their recovery takes, and they lost soldiers last year. Training and everything else… it’s impossible to predict…”

  “But Fidelius can’t afford to waste much time either…”

  The longer it dragged on, the greater the chance of exposure.

  He would surely want a quick, surprise first strike to settle it fast.

  “Frankly, as a merchant I find it difficult to gather information on internal military matters. Craftsmen might hear different rumors.”

  “Couldn’t we have sold it openly?”

  “I considered that, but if Tragia’s spies noticed huge amounts of iron and wheat suddenly appearing on the market, what would they think? Sellers from Lidonia would notice immediately. Wheat can be bought discreetly like this, but Elysia imports iron, so buyer information leaks quickly.”

  Kratos thought there was logic to it.

  “I see. By the way, the craftsmen are already prepared and just waiting to depart. They were grumbling that they were fired up after hearing from the Lond craftsmen but had no work, so they agreed right away.”

  “Thank you.”

  Seeing the wheat-loaded wagons about to leave, Denaro picked up his own baggage.

  “Heading out already?”

  “Yes. I want to cross the border while it’s still night. Can I leave the countermeasures against Tragia’s spies to you?”

  “Of course. They’re already in place. This is a huge fishing hook. If they bite, it’ll make our work much easier.”

  Denaro smiled, climbed into the wagon, waved, and set the horses moving.

  Four wagons advanced along the pitch-black, deserted road and passed through the western city gate.

  Reinshtatt was wrapped in a strange silence.

  There should have been plenty of salt and wheat, yet there was neither smoke from stoves nor any sign of people.

  It looked exactly as it had the first time he visited.

  But on closer inspection, it was different.

  Occasionally human shadows appeared at windows, and the gazes peering out were sharp.

  They were probably watching for western reconnaissance.

  In other words, information had been shared, and the fire of counterattack had been lit across the city.

  They were simply lying low for now, waiting for it to blaze up fiercely.

  Just like last time, several horsemen came galloping up.

  Fidelius was at the head.

  He was wearing armor now.

  Denaro’s eyes widened in surprise.

  It was not the standard imperial army armor of Tragia, but the leather armor used since the founding of the nation.

  “So it really was you. You’ve returned? How did it go?”

  Fidelius’s voice had strength.

  He seemed to have recovered considerably.

  “First wave of provisions transport. For now I’ve brought two hundred bags of two-kan wheat. Over one week we’ll deliver a total of one thousand four hundred and seventy bags. Also, today I’ve brought twenty weapons craftsmen from Elysia.”

  “You’ve done it. Thank you for the swift response. Leave the provisions to my men; I want you and the craftsmen to come with me. The workshop isn’t here—it’s at the lumberyard. The forge is there too.”

  “You’ve told everyone?”

  When Denaro asked, Fidelius nodded.

  “On the day you returned to Elysia, I consulted with my comrades and decided to tell everyone. All opinions matched. Baumgarten, Giesen, and Meitzen felt the same. We will retake the throne from the usurpers. Until the day of the uprising, we are living quietly so as not to be noticed.”

  This might move faster than expected, Denaro felt.

  Fighting spirit seemed to overflow from the entire town.

  “Then please follow me.”

  With that, Fidelius headed northeast.

  The road was poorly maintained and jolted badly.

  The craftsmen who had been sleeping woke up and rolled back the covers to look around.

  They entered a narrow forest path.

  The cool air carried the scent of earth.

  After advancing quite a distance, they left the woods and emerged onto a vast open plain.

  There stood several wooden buildings resembling warehouses.

  They were heavily weathered by the sun, clearly old.

  Flat rocks buried in the ground had hollows carved in them; debarked logs were stood upright as pillars.

  The construction was solid and sturdy.

  Around them were workshops, and beyond lay flax fields stretching into the distance.

  Denaro and the craftsmen dismounted and observed the Tragian craftsmen at work.

  Men were doing woodworking, leatherwork, and blacksmithing; women were weaving flax.

  What first caught the eye were the arrows.

  Several men took neatly sorted parts from stock, picked what they needed, and assembled them.

  The parts were arranged in perfect order, making inventory management easy.

  Finished arrows were clamped in fixtures and lined up neatly.

  Not crudely bundled in hundreds with rope, but with visible craftsman pride.

  They clearly cared about precision.

  Someone emerged from a building carrying timber.

  The large building was a lumber-drying shed.

  The sound of iron being struck on an anvil could be heard.

  They were probably making arrowheads.

  What surprised Denaro most was their expressions.

  Until recently they had looked like patients, lifeless; now their eyes burned with fire.

  Their physiques and skin tone had improved somewhat, but they still weren’t at full strength.

  He was deeply astonished that state of mind could change people so much.

  “This is our workplace. We have stocks of timber, leather, and fiber. There are six drying sheds for timber; we use pieces that have aged five years or more. We have Lidonian iron in reserve. There’s a lot of it used as weights on drying timber, so feel free to use it.”

  Fidelius explained to the craftsmen.

  A man approached from the forge.

  “This is Bowman Decard, in charge of the forge. He’ll tell you what we want you to make.”

  Decard was holding a single spear.

  “What I’d like to ask all of you for is the spearhead of this spear.”

  He held it out.

  Overall length about eight shaku*, spearhead roughly one shaku, a flat triangular blade.

  (*1 shaku ≈ 30.3 cm)

  Not quite equilateral, but thickly layered, curving gently from the base to the point.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  A metal fitting like the collar on a Lond sword reinforced where the tang met the shaft.

  The shaft tapered toward the head, about one sun five bu thick*, circular in cross-section.

  (*1 sun ≈ 3.03 cm, 1 bu ≈ 0.3 cm)

  “This spear was used long ago in Tragia, but the technique has been lost. Since we shifted to heavy infantry with spears longer than ten shaku, this shape stopped being made… Could you lend us your wisdom?”

  While he spoke, the spear was snatched away by the Elysian craftsmen, and men crowded around it.

  “Hey, this… couldn’t we use the techniques we learned from those guys?”

  A strange man with beard and hair covering his face, eyes bulging, said.

  “Indeed, this might be exactly the subject we need most right now.”

  The narrow-eyed bearded man said.

  “Say, can we remove the handle?”

  The white-haired elder asked.

  The very next moment the peg was pulled and the head came free from the shaft.

  Decard watched with a dumbfounded face.

  Denaro walked over to Fidelius and spoke.

  “You’re returning to the old tactics?”

  Fidelius looked at him.

  “Yes. We’ve decided to go back to our original way of fighting. Tragians have always overwhelmed other countries with the bow technique honed through hunting. Half the frontline infantry fought with bows. We’re returning to that form.”

  “Can you suddenly go back?”

  Denaro asked, frowning.

  Fidelius smiled.

  “We’ve survived famines by hunting. The bow is part of our daily life. Most of us can draw one. Hunting is several men working as one to drive and kill prey. War is the same. Heavy infantry was simply copying the westerners’ style.”

  Denaro understood.

  Tragia’s old tactics had been difficult for the western military doctrine to absorb.

  The west could never imitate them.

  Mastering the bow takes time, but eastern Tragians are accustomed to using it daily.

  He had never heard of using bows on the frontline.

  “What about the western movements?”

  “Interested in the war?”

  “Not uninterested. But having sold the salt, I thought it would be troublesome if noticed.”

  “True. We’ve placed watchers in the forest in our way to track spies. They come occasionally, see the town’s appearance, and leave. Anyone who notices this place becomes prey for our bows, but so far there’s been no strange movement. Giesen and Meitzen are probably more nervous than we are. Since they can’t move openly, Baumgarten and I are the ones acting.”

  “The north is also manufacturing weapons?”

  “Yes. The north is mainly making bows and armor. We use six-shaku bows; the yew grows abundantly there. The seeds are poisonous, so we cultivate them in limited areas. We have materials here too, so it’s possible to make them.”

  “What are the women doing?”

  “They usually weave, but now they’re making some small tools.”

  Denaro tilted his head.

  “Interested in everything—is that a merchant’s nature?”

  Fidelius laughed.

  “To speak without giving anything away, we grow flax. Flax seeds yield oil. We put it in small unglazed bottles so it won’t spoil, seal the lids, wrap them in hemp cloth soaked in glue, and store them. Now we’re making small nets to hang the bottles so they can be carried easily. We’ll throw them at the heavily armored bastards and set them on fire.”

  Fidelius laughed as he spoke.

  In the distance, a group could be seen training with bows.

  Eastern Tragia was steadily preparing for war.

  The bulging-eyed craftsman clutched his head.

  The spearhead was still a little heavy.

  “Shall we try thinning out the kawagane — y’know, shaving down that hard outer skin — and shaving some of the bulk off to lighten it? Since it’s mainly a thrusting weapon, we don’t have to make it rock-solid like one of Londo’s spears, ya know?”

  “It’s pretty difficult, ain’t it?” said the narrow-eyed man.

  “How the hell do those guys make such sturdy shafts? Should we lengthen the tang?”

  “Even if their spears have the same total length, their spearheads are abnormally long, so the shafts end up shorter by that much. It won’t work out the same way for us, I reckon.”

  “Well, let’s just try it for now,” he said, and started forging the steel again.

  They had seen Lond people deliberately breaking forged steel and concluded they judged hardness by the way it broke, so they incorporated the method.

  They thought it was to check whether the hardness was appropriate.

  But hardness criteria are based on experience and intuition, so only trial and error was possible. Still, nothing advances without trying.

  Right now they craved experience.

  Since spears don’t receive slashing blows with the steel, they decided extreme strength wasn’t necessary and quenching could be moderate.

  After repeated trial and error, in two weeks they completed one prototype.

  They decided to have Fidelius test it.

  They rolled straw mats tightly, inserted them into a stake-mounted stand, and prompted Fidelius to thrust.

  He thrust and withdrew repeatedly to check whether it would withstand real combat.

  It seemed fine.

  In fact, the feedback looked good.

  They even covered it with heavy-infantry armor and thrust again; there was no sign of bending. Fidelius judged it fully usable as a spear.

  They had strengthened the vulnerable area where the tang seated by splitting dried honeysuckle vine in half, gluing it on, and increasing strength.

  That settled the method.

  The problem was quantity.

  They had been told they wanted a thousand within three months.

  The craftsmen were stunned by the number, but they specialized tasks, improved efficiency, and worked hard to meet the demand.

  Especially spearhead production: they divided roles—steel forging and thickness/length adjustment, fire-shaping, finishing—and repeated the same work thoroughly to shorten manufacturing time.

  The Tragian craftsmen were inspired by the sight and took charge of cutting the grooves for the tang in the shafts.

  They carved long grooves from the side of square timber, fine-tuned to fit the tang, then fitted matching square timber and glued it—precision was required.

  They had the advantage in woodworking.

  In turn, the Elysian craftsmen could focus on metalwork.

  Craftsmen from two countries that had fought each other just last year were now working for the same purpose; everyone felt a strange sense of solidarity.

  Gradually they began eating and sleeping together.

  Then they could hear all kinds of stories.

  They asked Fidelius why the east-west conflict had arisen.

  “We have always lived by hunting in these forests. Using that skill, we expanded our territory westward.”

  Fidelius spoke while nibbling dried beans.

  “At first we trampled other countries and seized land. But once our power grew to a certain size, we used military strength as backing and absorbed neighboring countries through marriage alliances. The nations around here shared much of the same ethnicity, so marriage policy was easy to accept.”

  Then, with a bitter face, he continued.

  “But… that created a new problem.”

  Denaro listened quietly.

  “The western lords forgot the spirit they had when they were kings and gradually lost interest in anything except their status and wealth within the empire. So the old Tragian system became an obstacle…”

  Fidelius moistened his tongue with water and went on.

  “Finally, with the lords’ support, they demanded a change in the system so that the emperor would be chosen by them.”

  “They sought oligarchic rule?”

  “Exactly. If they gained the right to choose the emperor, their position would become incomparably greater than before. This does not match the ideal of stable rule by philosophers that Tragia has traditionally pursued…”

  Anger showed on Fidelius’s face.

  “This difference in stance triggered the upheaval of the imperial succession struggle three years ago…”

  In any country, political corruption born from the pursuit of private desire may be unavoidable.

  “Yet stopping the salt over political opposition is beyond reason…”

  As if crushing the bitterness, Fidelius bit into a bean.

  “That’s not all. The attack on Darius was surely plotted by them… At this point even the previous emperor’s death looks suspicious… We shouldn’t be fighting Ashir. The very foundation of the country is shaking…”

  Denaro thought of asking a more probing question.

  He addressed Fidelius’s profile.

  “…How far do you intend to go…?”

  Fidelius quietly met Denaro’s eyes.

  Those eyes spoke clearly.

  He intended to go all the way.

  Denaro understood.

  By the end of May the barley harvest began.

  Fortunately the yield was higher than usual; everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

  The wheat from Elysia arrived safely, and sufficient stockpiles were secured in the grain warehouses.

  Spear production had started slowly but improved with practice, catching up on the delay.

  Most soldiers had regained strength and maintained high morale.

  Fidelius secretly sent messengers to the four lords and began drafting the operation.

  Days spent indoors increased, and more soldiers headed west for reconnaissance.

  Giesen’s lord Meisner Lorenz, Meitzen’s lord Blum Manfred, and his brother Gilbert and Darius gathered at Fidelius’s residence.

  “Can you grasp their scale?”

  Gilbert asked.

  “Honestly, I only have a clear picture of the troops deployed west of my own territory. They’ve spread about two thousand men in a surrounding net. It’s better to assume there’s a main force behind them.”

  Lorenz kept nibbling beans.

  This man liked ale, but lately alcohol itself was scarce, so he seemed to be using beans and water to distract himself.

  “We’re roughly the same. From what I’ve seen, long-term surveillance duty has brought fatigue and lowered morale.”

  Manfred said, suppressing a laugh at Lorenz’s appearance.

  “Five months already, after all. They’ll be lax. With small unit sizes, a night raid on the camps to destroy them simultaneously might be best.”

  Gilbert scanned everyone’s faces with his eyes.

  “Pick off the sentries, set fire to the tents. Make a killing field and finish them all with arrows.”

  Lorenz said, finger on his chin.

  “We should annihilate them without letting a single one escape. It would be trouble if they reach the main force. Immediately after, locate the main camp’s position and, if possible, surround and burn that too. Depends on their numbers.”

  Manfred said.

  “No matter how many they have, if we aren’t noticed we hold overwhelming advantage. The more there are, the greater the chaos. Night raids and fire tactics will be effective against troops whose morale has dropped. How many flax-seed oil bottles do we have?”

  Gilbert asked.

  “Taking the old ones, about two thousand.”

  When Manfred answered, everyone said that much was possible.

  “The problem is after that. How to conquer the eastern part of the imperial capital.”

  When Fidelius spoke, everyone nodded.

  “If we take Pricel, supply will be easy.”

  Lorenz said.

  Pricel was a port town west of the Lidonian mountains.

  The harbor was large and many warships were stationed there.

  “But capturing it will be difficult. Supplies and personnel can pour in endlessly from the sea. Same after we take it.”

  Gilbert’s point was correct.

  Especially lately, in the naval supremacy struggle with the Kingdom of Ashir, the navy was receiving heavy budget.

  “Domestic cities are not prepared for internal attack. Except for the capital, they never allocated budget to city defense, so walls are low and defensive power weak. They’ve poured money into harbor development and attack ships, so land forces are low. Anywhere we attack should fall with little effort. I think we should strike the most effective place first—what do you say?”

  Fidelius said.

  “Certainly, but which is optimal?”

  Gilbert asked.

  “The shortest distance to the capital, and the largest city in the eastern empire—Bromberg. Many troops are stationed there, but they also have large grain stockpiles. Walls are low and conquest shouldn’t be difficult.”

  Fidelius answered.

  “Good. We should take plenty of rope and timber. Let the baggage train accompany siege materials and craftsmen.”

  Lorenz said.

  “For now the first target is decided. The question is when to start.”

  Gilbert said.

  “How is weapon production?”

  Manfred asked.

  “A thousand bows will be finished soon. Armor will take a little longer. Forty thousand arrows are ready and can move anytime.”

  Gilbert answered.

  “Our thousand spears will take a bit more. Arrow production is going well. We have secured fifty thousand.”

  Fidelius said.

  “Then as soon as supplies are ready, we begin the invasion.”

  When Gilbert spoke, everyone nodded.

  “May I say one thing?”

  Darius, who had remained silent until now, spoke for the first time.

  Everyone focused on him.

  “The opponents we attack are compatriots, the same people. We must never attack the populace. It will affect governance after taking the capital. The same for soldiers. Those who surrender will be incorporated or released from duty. Many lords are imperial blood relatives. Those who obey keep their lives. Those who resist will have their property seized and be exiled. When attacking Bromberg, send a messenger first to make our purpose clear before beginning. This march’s purpose is to strike the usurpers and their backers. Please do not forget that.”

  “Understood in every detail.”

  The eldest, Lorenz, answered, and the others voiced agreement one after another.

  “Good. Then the first objective is Bromberg. Once we take it, we will make known to the world the existence of the legitimate heir to the throne and declare the usurper deposed. We will defeat the traitors and return the country to its rightful form.”

  Everyone agreed with Gilbert’s words.

  Denaro was looking down at the town from the walls of Reinshtatt.

  Thin clouds covered the sky; moonlight outlined the shapes.

  A light mist had risen over the town.

  There was a presence behind him.

  Footsteps drew closer, and the moonlight illuminated the face.

  It was Darius.

  “Your Highness Darius…”

  Darius showed no surprise at seeing Denaro’s face.

  He had known and come here.

  Denaro braced himself inwardly.

  “Ah, it’s you. Denarius*, wasn’t it? You’ve done a great deal for us. Thank you truly for the salt. Thank you for saving the people.”

  (*Denarius is Denaro’s operational pseudonym)

  “Not at all. I am a merchant.”

  “I’ve heard you helped with great dedication. Many lives were saved. And bringing the craftsmen helped enormously. I’m sorry my brother demanded such an unreasonable number.”

  “No, they seem to be enjoying themselves. They’ve also learned from your techniques and gained much.”

  That’s good, Darius said with a smile.

  Whether natural or from the moonlight, Darius’s slender build stood out.

  A bruise on his wrist was visible beneath his sleeve.

  Probably from the three years of imprisonment.

  He made no attempt to hide it.

  “I feel bad for always imposing on you, but could I ask one more favor?”

  “What would you like?”

  Denaro hid his agitation and asked slowly.

  “Could you deliver a letter for me to Elysia?”

  “To Elysia?”

  Denaro was surprised.

  He didn’t understand the meaning.

  “Why ask me for such a request?”

  Darius answered with a smile.

  “Please don’t take it badly, but I believe you are connected to the Elysian government. Even if so, I have no intention of blaming you. I simply seek a way to meet the King of Elysia.”

  “Why do you think I am connected to the government?”

  Denaro asked calmly.

  “You speak Tragian remarkably well. A merchant might do so naturally, but your words carry inflections and expressions close to those of the Lidonian mountain folk. Originally the same ethnicity, so the language is the same, yet there are subtle differences in tone and phrasing. If you were a merchant, I’d expect speech closer to that of the Lidonian mariners. Their phrasing is quite casual. Aren’t you from the Lidonian mountain people?”

  “…You are correct. My mother was from the Lidonian mountain folk. She was the daughter of a shipbuilder, and I was raised in Elysia.”

  “I see. Sorry for the rude guess. Still, could you take a personal letter? It’s a very important matter.”

  Silence fell.

  “What is the matter?”

  “Tragia is about to enter civil war. I want Elysia to refrain from intervening. Ideally I’d like help, but I want a promise of non-intervention. Sending an official envoy might alert my brother in the capital. That would ruin everyone’s plan. So I need someone who can move behind the scenes. Will you lend your strength?”

  Darius’s argument made sense.

  It was indeed a necessary measure.

  Denaro resolved that he had no choice but to accept.

  “…Then I will take the letter. I will do my utmost to deliver it to the appropriate person.”

  Darius took a single sheet of stationery from the pocket of his outer garment and said thank you.

  The sealing wax bore the seal of the Lord of Reinshtatt.

  Since Darius had escaped prison with only the clothes on his back, he naturally had no seal.

  But the fact that this seal was used meant Fidelius had already approved the matter.

  Denaro felt a chill run down his spine.

  He carefully put away the letter, unhitched a horse from the wagon, saddled it, and mounted.

  Then he passed through the city gate.

  From atop the wall, Darius watched the horse’s shadow disappear into the mist.