Her skin, firm and full of vigor, was tanned by sun and travel. Her silver hair shone as though holding moonlight.

But her fame came not from her exotic beauty—
It came from her swordsmanship that drew the moon.

Peijin of the New Moon.

In the eyes of a southern knight of respectable renown, she carried the spirit of one who had cut through age, gender, wealth, poverty, and class alike.

What the hell were those things, anyway.

Peijin had recently been hired by the Border Patrol Corps to fight mutated beasts.

Of the one hundred mercenaries under her, she lost over thirty, and returned to Spiramantown to replenish her ranks.

It’s about time I score something big and settle down.

Financially, the losses were negligible.

Mercenaries who died left behind gear—what they owned returned to the company.

But once she returned from the field, going back out again made it unlikely she would secure good land afterward.

From below, all knights looked like gods.

But once she became one, she learned what knights already knew—
there were immeasurable differences even among knights.

There were noble houses of knights who had enjoyed prestige for generations—like the Custodia March or the Helix Barony—
and there were common knights who held only a single modest village.

Some led mercenary bands, like Peijin.
Some wandered alone as free knights.

Peijin herself had nearly married the heir of a rather well-regarded barony once.

The Empire of Stars was rich in people and wealth.

In other countries, a barony might have a population around a thousand.
But in the Empire of Stars, a barony’s main city alone easily held tens of thousands.

Including outlying villages and hamlets, one barony could be home to hundreds of thousands.

Which is why the price of life is cheap. Even noble life.

Peijin allowed a bitter smile.

The baronial house was annihilated overnight.

They were accused of colluding with Rykenta.

A Blue Knight came down and wiped them out to the last.

Knights cut down status, but superhuman beings cut down eras.

Pointless thoughts.

In any case—
Peijin was trying to let go of the desire to keep climbing.

No matter how she refined her blade and body, she could not reach the supernatural abilities passed down through bloodlines.

It’s time to settle.

Her heart was weary, even if her body endured.

She wanted to leave the battlefield and settle in a proper city.

To do that, she needed merit—this time.

“Captain! Captain!”

Her vice-captain ran up, waving a notice.

“Don’t make a fuss.”

“Please look at this.”

Peijin frowned and took the notice.

[Mercenary Recruitment

Extreme danger. Mutated beasts. Low pay. Jungle march. Enemy cannot be disclosed. Survival uncertain.

Success grants honor and glory.

—Kyrie of Aer Astreios.]

Her brows tightened.

What is this?

No pay listed.

Only that the mission was dangerous, the enemy many, conditions harsh, and possibly lethal to prevent leakage of information.

Honor and glory?

The promised reward was laughable.

Kyrie… does this mean the One-Eyed Sword?

But the final signature caught her eye.

Because he had only one eye, he was called the One-Eyed Sword.

Because he tore out his own eye, embodying both violence and singular sight—
he was also called the Poison-Eyed Sword.

Because he traveled the villages and rendered fair judgment blindfolded, releasing the grievances of commoners, he was called the Scalesword.

In the south these past months, the captain of the 117th Hundred newly adopted into House Astreios had been called by all these names.

The Blue Knight among Blue Knights. Said to value the lives of his subordinates, to always lead from the front, and to divide spoils fairly.

Peijin bit her lower lip.

“What kind of notice is this?”

“Should I throw it out? I just brought it because it was interesting.”

“No. Wait.”

It was strange.

Thump.

Her heart beat.

Is everything written here really just the truth?

Truly, it was strange.

The danger is accurate. I saw mutated orcs myself. Thirty men erased by one roar. This isn’t fearmongering—it’s simply the truth.

Maybe this was obvious.

Honor and glory. A knight who wins gains leverage when territories and spoils are divided later. But promising spoils now, before battle? Unrealistic. He refuses to lie. So that’s why they call him the Blue Knight among Blue Knights.

Peijin was a knight.

A soldier cuts down despair.

A sworn officer cuts through gender.

A retainer cuts through poverty.

A knight cuts through status.

Born a serf—die a noble.

Peijin had cut through everything that was supposed to limit her.

Common sense. Gender. Age. Wealth. Class.

Her heart drummed.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

So much for being tired.

A slow smile curved her lips.

“Let’s go.”

“Yes.”

She did not know that knights everywhere were wearing the same smile.

“Ha. This guy knows something. That’s romance.”

“Isn’t that the Blue Knight who went to the capital a few months back?”

“He destroyed Prochus and Epichus, didn’t he?”

“Sir! Sir! We have a problem, sir! We have stacks of applications as tall as an ogre!”

“Kyrie! Kyrie! Look! Look at all these! Look how many applied!”

“I knew it! All that talk about stalling was just you leaving room in case nobody came, right? But it worked! So now we can start immediately! Let’s go!”

Kyrie heard Joy, Nereus, and Frey all shouting.

Why?

He saw the stack of documents piled higher than his head.

Why did this happen?

The resumes, written in that long-winded epic style knights always used, still reached higher than his height.

“This is… all of it?”

“Not enough for you?!”

Frey raised both hands dramatically.

“No.”

“Don’t worry, sir. The applications from mercenary units led by retainers or sworn officers are in the next room!”

Joy beamed and opened the door.

What did I do wrong?

Kyrie wondered if the room had been painted pure white.

No. It’s the world that’s wrong.

Only when he activated his bio-radar did he understand that all of that was paper.

So many lunatics read that notice and applied.

At this rate, he’d have to form the army first—before he even received a single coin.

Frey and Nereus exchanged a look and nodded.

“Neri.”

“Call me that again and I’ll break your teeth.”

“Neri, Neri.”

“...Damn it.”

“Our Kyrie! Your insight is incredible. You knew exactly what knights wanted, and promised the price they crave.”

“I despise making others geniuses so that I don’t have to feel like a fool, but… yes.”

Frey’s eyes flashed with cross-shaped light.

“‘Danger’ means fewer surviving rivals. ‘Honor and glory’ means immense reward if victorious.”

“Right. Judging by the mood, information on the mutated beasts and House Rykenta is not fully suppressed. ‘Honor and glory’ lit a fire. It suggests that if they risk themselves now, they may become pioneers.”

Nereus spoke grudgingly, but acknowledged it.

“I dislike wordplay—but gathering an army this quickly is a capability.”

“Yes, yes. Kyrie cherishes citizens and soldiers. It must have hurt his pride to admit his recruitment ability was lacking.”

Admiration flickered in Frey’s teal eyes.

“Joy.”

“Yes, sir.”

“How many will gather?”

Joy answered, dazed.

“If each knight brings only fifty soldiers…”

“Well?”

“We’ll end up with at least three or four thousand, sir.”

Her voice cracked—and Kyrie coughed to politely cover it.

“Can you manage that?”

“Me? F— Wait—no—truly?”

Joy felt something drop onto her heart.

Kyrie’s expectations weighed heavier than the mountain of papers.

He became an adopted son. Now he must achieve results as an adopted son.

She understood how important this was.

She remembered that day.

You will become a knight. Then I will call you Sir Joy, truly.

The first person who believed in the version of herself she wanted to become.

She would not disappoint him.

“Yes. I can die once. No reason I can’t die twice. Leave it to me.”

Kyrie made Joy want to become someone greater.

“Bring them in one at a time.”

Internally screaming at reality twisting around him, I prepared for interviews.

I would never understand why people applied to that notice.

Still—
It happened. I had to adapt.

Honestly, I wanted to stall under the pretext of reviewing applications.

Wait until the Custodia March requested aid, and then force Gracchus to beg us to depart and supply us properly.

Trisan may have ties here.

But my Blue Knight instinct and rational mind both signaled danger.

Governors and commanding generals are always at odds.

To the governor, the army is a troublemaker.
To the commander, the governor is a stingy delay.

In Spiramantown, that meant Gracchus vs. Ismael.

And Ismael was aligned with Sub-Lord Andromeda.

If one side has a faction, the other must have one too.

So—Gracchus must have his own line.

I cannot give the impression I am stalling. I will not give him a pretext.

I steadied myself.

Think positively. This is a chance to complete Sub-Objective 2 instantly. Achieve what can be achieved when the chance presents itself.

If so—then I would build the army properly.

One that cost me as little as possible and fought exceptionally well.

“Kiriki! Let’s build an army of ten thousand!”

Frey chattered beside me.

“If you call me that again, I’ll tie your tongue.”

“Kiri-kiri-kiri! So ten thousand is good then?”

I gave up on addressing the name issue.

As long as my bodyguard was perceptive and good with a blade—fine.

“Absolutely not.”

“Why?”

“With whose money will we feed and house ten thousand? Requisition from villages? We’d end up pillaging the southern border more thoroughly than the mutated beasts.”

An army is a devouring monster.

Even if Gracchus gave money—and he wouldn’t—
I could not avoid using personal funds.

And ten thousand soldiers would bankrupt me in days.

Not exaggeration—economically, commanding ten thousand was being attacked by ten thousand.

I’d rather fight ten thousand than feed ten thousand.

“So how do we recruit them?”

“We build a small, elite force. Free knights who move with only a few subordinates. Small squads of retainers and sworn officers are ideal. For large mercenary groups, we take only a few—based on their officers.”

“As expected of the Scalesword.”

“Scalesword? Now what is that supposed to mean.”

“You have a nickname. It exists.”

I set a clear principle:

Small units that can fend for themselves. Easy to cut loose if necessary. Easy to discipline. Easy to divide.

Minimal-cost units. Every decision points the same way.

That was the beginning and the end.

Interviews began.

“……Rations and lodging are self-sustained within the pay allotted. Arrow and supply stock will be purchased from accompanying merchants and distributed. You are free to contract monks or healers individually. Questions?”

“None.”

“Good. Any final words?”

“The notice was romantic. The operational terms are clear. I look forward to working under you.”

“And I with you, Sir Peijin.”

But the knights’ reactions came from an angle I had not predicted.

They like this? Are they mocking me?

They seemed extremely satisfied with the self-sufficiency requirement.

I didn’t understand, so I asked Joy quietly.

“Commanders prefer being allowed to handle their own logistics, sir.”

“And why is that?”

“With full respect—Blue Knights tend to be… overly heroic?”

“Yes. We lack thought.”

“You charge in first, then divide spoils among survivors. Anyone who runs is executed. And usually that's the entire briefing. So simply having a clear contract is a blessing for mercenary knights.”

I was stunned.

If that’s the case, why make contracts at all.

I gave up understanding.

The interviews continued.

Fifteen knight-mercenary captains.

Thirty-five free knights.

And, including retainers and sworn officers, about three hundred more.

Whumm.

The Heaven-Thunder Physique surged accordingly.

【Sub-Objective 2: King of Sword-Bearers — Completed.】

【You have secured command authority over 12 or more knights.】

【Heaven-Thunder Physique efficiency increases by 50%!】

【Additional increases: +10% efficiency per knight commanded… (adjusting)】

Chapter 52

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