Half a month later.
The torrential rains of the Weeping Moon ceased, the floodwaters receded, and the marsh welcomed sunshine for the first time in ages.
In the thin morning mist, Barrett stood before Veylin's tent.
He had shaved his beard clean, revealing a sharply defined face. The scar running across his left eye looked even more striking.
His studded leather armor had been polished to a shine, and the crude gray wolf's-head crest on his shoulder armor had been repainted.
Behind him, the members of the Grey Wolves mercenary company stood straight in two ranks, the atmosphere solemn.
Veylin lifted the tent flap, saw the formation, and stopped.
"My lord."
Barrett stepped forward, stopping three paces from Veylin.
His armor plates clanged together.
He and every mercenary behind him dropped to one knee in perfect unison.
Their clenched right fists struck their left breasts with a deep, resounding thud.
Veylin's pupils contracted slightly.
What was this about?
"We, the Grey Wolves," Barrett declared solemnly, "ask to pledge our allegiance to you. From this day onward, our swords and our lives belong to you, Lord Klein."
"From now on, it will be loyalty that drives us, not a contract."
So... did that mean I didn't have to pay the balance? Veylin couldn't help thinking.
He cleared his throat. "I thought you preferred freedom."
"Freedom..." Barrett gave a bitter smile. "For Bloodless like us, freedom is the right to choose which mud pit to roll in, then choose which lord to risk our lives for."
A little curious, Veylin looked down at Barrett. "Then what do you want?"
"A future." Barrett raised his keen remaining eye to meet Veylin's gaze, his voice charged with fervor. "My last commander was a highborn fool. To seize a magical beast's egg, he sent our entire hundred-man company charging in. Only a handful of us survived... we've served far too many idiots."
"But you're different, my lord." He pointed at the black wall behind him, then at the vine houses rising in the distance.
"With knowledge we can't understand, you've created a miracle in this forsaken place. This wall, these houses still growing... they're more solid than any duke's promises. We're willing to clear the obstacles in your path with our worthless lives and our fighting skills. For nothing else but a chance to give ourselves, and those who come after us... a different way to live."
Veylin's gaze swept over ten silent, determined faces.
"I accept your allegiance." Veylin's voice reached every one of them. "From today onward, you are no longer the Grey Wolves, but the first members of Newborn Town's Garrison. Barrett, you will be their captain."
"Yes, my lord!" Barrett slammed his fist against his chest, his shout like thunder.
Veylin turned and looked toward the town beginning to take shape.
I think I've gotten out of paying it... but I'll still have to pay wages from now on.
Thinking of his shriveled coin purse, he realized he would have to approach the Golden Sail Merchant Guild again.
The rainy season ended completely.
Korn, a steward of the Golden Sail Merchant Guild, once again set out for Graysea Marsh.
This time, he brought only a few guards and a guide, looking as relaxed as if he were taking a leisurely excursion into the countryside.
The scout he had sent earlier reported that the young knight's camp seemed to remain standing, but the scout had been too timid to approach.
That was within his expectations. Terrifying as the Weeping Moon's beast tide was, there were always a few lucky survivors clinging to life in some hidden corner.
Now it was time to reap the rewards of that "luck."
They first passed the ruins of Graymist Village.
The former village had been reduced to wreckage. Rotten wooden posts bobbed in the muddy water, and several corpses, gnawed beyond recognition, lay scattered among the ruins, giving off a foul stench.
"Do you see?" Korn pointed his riding crop at the desolate scene, lecturing the attendant beside him. "This is what happens when you defy the rules. Without the protection of a powerful bloodline, any attempt to pioneer new land is a joke. That boy named Klein is probably clutching a knightly romance and crying right now."
The attendant nodded repeatedly in agreement. "You certainly had foresight, Steward. This time, we'll be able to buy that land and his knightly title for next to nothing."
"Buy?" Korn scoffed. "Can you really call it buying when a knightly title is involved? I call it 'assistance.' A Pioneer Knight's title is a prized collectible among the nobles in the royal capital."
The party traveled for another half day through the dull, monotonous marshland, until the attendant pointed toward the distant horizon and exclaimed in bewilderment, "Steward, what's that? A black mountain range?"
Korn narrowed his eyes as well. There was indeed a black line stretching across the plateau, even reflecting a strange sheen in the sunlight.
As they drew closer, the ease on his face gradually froze.
That was no mountain range.
It was a wall, a pitch-black, crenellated city wall crouching atop the plateau like an enormous beast lying in wait.
He spurred his horse to the foot of the wall, dismounted, and reached out to touch its cold, hard surface. It felt like steel, yet there were those same strange... leaves?
The party passed through the wall, and he saw a sight that brought his mind to a halt.
In the center of the camp... no, the town, Barrett was training a squad of spirited militia, while children chased one another through the streets.
Every face here shone with something seldom seen on the faces of commoners-hope.
He stared wide-eyed at a window in a three-story house.
The window was a naturally formed, semi-elliptical opening, its edges smooth and graceful, seamlessly integrated into the wall. He could find no joins anywhere on the entire wall... or were those beautiful patterns the joins?
What kind of craftsmanship was this?
The latest technique of dwarven stonemasons? Or had some mage used Transmute Mud to Stone?
These houses... these streets... rivaled the upper district of Stonebridge City! And that was a provincial capital Marquis Menethil had spent decades developing!
"Steward..." The attendant's voice trembled. "Is... is this a divine miracle?"
Korn did not answer.
He straightened his disheveled collar, suppressed all his shock, and put on a smile more humble than any he had ever worn before approaching a guard beside the road.
"Please announce that Korn, steward of the Golden Sail Merchant Guild, has come to pay his respects to the esteemed Lord Weilin Klein, and to offer my sincerest admiration for his magnificent new town."
When Veylin saw Korn, the latter was standing stiffly before a vine house like a schoolboy.
"Lord Klein!" Korn all but jogged over, his smile extravagantly warm. "I was simply... utterly won over by your creations! This is nothing short of a miracle! Might I ask whether this magnificent town has a name?"
Veylin looked out over the vibrant land before him, at the people who had emerged from despair.
"It's called Newborn Town."
"Newborn Town... an excellent name!" Korn flattered him, about to say more.
Veylin interrupted him.
"Steward Korn, would you be interested in discussing a business deal?"