Chapter 148
Chapter 148. Epilogue 2 - Brothers
The great cold wave that caused massive damage across the land was no exception in Reedwald.
Firewood for warmth ran short, and with roads rendered impassable, the economy stagnated.
Thanks to the cooperation of various guilds and temple factions, starvation was kept at bay, but deaths from freezing increased by the day. Urban, the Baron of Reedwald, his successor Lakius, and the steward Graham were constantly occupied with countermeasures.
Standing in the square before the manor, Lakius turned and surveyed the main street.
Carriages came and went, and the thoroughfare bustled with people.
Nights were still cold, and mounds of snow piled up across the town, but perhaps due to several days of clear weather, the expressions of the residents were brighter than before.
The winter of struggle was finally drawing to a close.
"The liveliness has returned quite a bit."
"Yes." As Lakius relaxed his expression, his guard Vilsas responded curtly.
For a moment, Lakius's face darkened, but it soon returned to normal.
Then, urging Vilsas along, he headed back into the manor.
Nodding to the straightened-posture gatekeeper, he proceeded down the hallway in silence.
Pretending to gaze outside, Lakius subtly glanced behind him.
Vilsas Maxnolt was a former squire.
His father had also been a knight but retired nearly a decade ago after being wounded in battle with monsters. Vilsas had succeeded him, entering the service of House Reedwald. However, due to his youth and lack of skill, he had spent the past year training as a squire until the recent reorganization of the knight order.
But—Lakius thought—
If asked whether Vilsas was necessary for the Reedwald Knights, he would have to say no.
Compared to the capable Ranz Sford or the quick-witted Nesaluk Kasamus, Vilsas fell far short.
Had his father not been a knight, Lakius doubted Vilsas would have even qualified as a squire.
As he sighed inwardly, the sound of Urban's voice reached him from the parlor.
Leaving Vilsas in the hallway, Lakius entered the parlor.
Inside, Urban and Henriette were relaxing.
Behind his father stood the steward Graham, and in the corner of the room, the maid Meredy waited.
"You're back. You should rest too."
Complying with his father's suggestion, Lakius took a seat on the sofa.
After wetting his throat with tea brewed by Meredy, he spoke up.
"I've heard news from the Merchant Guild. The western and southern highways are passable again. The northern route shouldn't be an issue unless it's a large caravan, but the eastern highway—the Reknod Forest—will take more time to return to normal."
"The forest can't be helped. We'll leave it to nature."
Agreeing, Lakius changed the subject.
"By the way, how is the damage to the outer wall?"
"The cracks from freezing seem to have spread. It shouldn't cause immediate problems today or tomorrow, but I've sent Ranz to inspect it, just in case."
"Either way, the expenses will pile up."
"A headache indeed."
As Urban shook his head, Henriette lightly clapped her hands.
"It's break time. Save the work talk for later."
"Right, my bad."
Urban smiled wryly in apology, then diverted his gaze out the window.
"If the highways are restored, Alter should be back soon."
"Perhaps. Merchants are coming and going, but some areas are still rough. Travel by carriage might take longer than usual."
"Knowing him, he'd use that as an excuse to walk back."
"That's possible."
Smiling faintly, Lakius nodded.
"Alter always found carriages bothersome. He might even return without a guard."
"Surely not… Even for him, traveling alone would be reckless, wouldn't it?"
"He'll be fine."
Lakius nodded reassuringly at Henriette, whose expression had darkened.
"It's still just rumors, but Alter apparently won the martial tournament. Monsters and bandits along the highway won't be a problem for him."
"Is that true?"
Though he'd meant to reassure his mother, it was Urban who latched onto the topic.
Henriette, meanwhile, tilted her head in confusion.
"According to merchant reports, it seems to be true. Alter has been in real combat since childhood. It'd be more surprising if he lost in a student tournament."
"Maybe so. Come to think of it, I heard his magic skills have improved too."
"He mentioned it in his letter. He's mastered the intermediate spells [Fireball] and [Earth Wall]."
"Talented indeed, even for my son."
For a moment, envy flickered in Urban and Lakius's eyes.
House Reedwald, renowned for its martial glory.
It was a legacy built by the first-generation Paul and the second-generation Fors.
It was why this rising noble house was never underestimated—and also, in a way, a curse.
The third-generation Urban and his successor, Lakius, lacked the same individual combat prowess.
Other nobles could delegate such matters to subordinates. Command ability was what mattered.
But House Reedwald was not afforded that luxury. They were always compared to Paul and Fors.
This tendency was especially pronounced among martial-focused noble houses. When Alter was just born, Marquis Braslad's dissatisfaction with Urban's abilities stemmed from this very reason.
That was why Urban and Lakius needed Alter.
They held him in high regard, so they didn't worry as much as Henriette, and they tolerated his somewhat un-noble behavior to an extent.
Fortunately, Alter wasn't so reckless, but the two had another concern.
What I most want to protect is family.
Those were the words Alter had spoken when asked to enter the forest.
Urban had been genuinely happy, but he also understood his son's perspective.
Beneath those words lay proof of Alter's weak sense of belonging and attachment to Reedwald. The only thing tying him down was his family. And if, by some chance, he found himself in an environment where he couldn't trust or was continually displeased with his family, it was all too easy to imagine him abandoning his status and disappearing without a trace.
Lakius, too, gazed out the window, reflecting on his decade with his younger brother.
What impact had the three years in Selene had on him?
From letters and fragmented reports, it didn't seem like much had changed.
(The gap in our abilities has only widened—)
Smiling slightly self-deprecatingly, he turned his gaze back.
Then, spotting Henriette still looking worried, Lakius hurriedly added:
"Just a joke, Mother. Even if Alter is strong, he wouldn't do something as reckless as traveling alone."
"Really? Well, if you say so…"
Though his words were hollow, Henriette seemed temporarily satisfied.
As Lakius sighed in relief, Urban spoke up again, deep in thought.
"Skilled mages can supposedly create outer walls with [Earth Wall]."
"Alter?"
"Yes. Do you think he could do it?"
"I'm not well-versed in intermediate magic, but—from what I've heard, [Earth Wall] is normally just an earthen barrier. Even if its durability could be enhanced like [Earth Bolt], whether it could substitute for an outer wall would depend on his talent."
"I see. We'll ask him when he returns. If magic repairs are possible, we can allocate the budget elsewhere."
Behind Urban, Steward Graham nodded in agreement.
Noticing this, Lakius asked:
"Wouldn't the knight captain know more than me? If he's traveled widely, he might have seen it somewhere."
"Rolan won't be back for a few days. He said he wanted to survey the villages for cold wave damage while hunting bandits."
"I see. Alter will likely return sooner, then."
As Lakius nodded, Urban continued.
"Also, I hear Selene teaches [Magic Tool Crafting]."
"Magic tools—to supplement the budget?"
"Well, it'd certainly help… But I've heard crafting magic tools is time-consuming. It wouldn't do to rely on him for everything…"
Seeing his father trail off, Lakius understood.
This, too, was likely Graham's suggestion.
The measures and recovery efforts for the cold wave had severely depleted the territory's reserves. As the one managing the administration, Graham was more acutely aware of the financial strain than anyone.
Graham was elderly, already past seventy.
With no suitable replacement in sight, his retirement had been postponed, but signs of his decline were becoming more frequent.
Realizing this himself, he must have set his sights on Alter.
If magic tools could be stably produced, it wouldn't just boost direct sales—merchants and adventurers would gather, lifting the entire economy. Even if Graham's successor made missteps, the losses could be offset to some extent.
After a moment's thought, Lakius answered his father's question.
"Assuming Alter can produce magic tools, he'd gladly help. The issue is the quantity. Even after his [Ash Coughing] subsided, his room was filled with potions and materials. If you ask him to craft magic tools, he'll undoubtedly go overboard. If they flood the market, it could cause friction with the Magic Guild, Merchant Guild, and craftsmen."
"We kept potion sales in check, didn't we? He's not that foolish."
"You're right. So instead, the warehouse will overflow with magic tools."
"That'd be… Clearing out the warehouse won't be enough. Magic tools take up space."
They couldn't let the manor be buried under magic tools.
As Urban agonized, Lakius continued.
"Rather than proposing it yourself, it might be better to ask if he wants to produce magic tools. We could establish a new trade house, limit transactions to it, and only release the shortfall into the market. Even then, if excess stock piles up, we could have him sell it outside Reedwald—say, in Selene."
"I don't mind, but is a new trade house necessary?"
"Some merchants can be cunning, so it's a precaution to reduce Alter's burden. Also, favoring an existing trade house wouldn't be wise."
"And we can't afford to owe the Merchant Guild any favors."
As Lakius nodded, he noticed Henriette glaring at them half-lidded.
"L-Let's discuss the rest after Alter returns. It's break time now."
"Ah—right! Indeed!"
Despite their lengthy discussion, father and son hurriedly backtracked.
Then, while gauging Henriette's mood, they engaged in idle small talk.
Soon after, Urban left for administrative duties, and Lakius set out on his rounds.
Rejoining Vilsas in the hallway, Lakius exited the manor.
Just then, Ranz Sford rode in through the main gate with his entourage.
Spotting them, Ranz dismounted and bowed.
Nodding in acknowledgment, Lakius asked:
"How's the outer wall?"
"As previously reported, the old cracks expanded due to freezing. There's no immediate risk of collapse."
"Good. Having some leeway helps."
Ranz bowed again, exchanged a glance with Vilsas, and headed to Urban.
Meanwhile, Lakius left the manor, escorted by the gatekeeper.
Stepping from the square onto the main street, the clamor of the crowd washed over him.
Surveying the lively street, Lakius thought of Ranz and the absent knight captain, Rolan.
Days earlier, Rolan had set out with a knight and troops to subdue bandits.
Inspecting cold wave damage was another objective, but it wasn't normally a task for the knight captain himself.
The reason lay in discord within the current order.
Following the retirement of the former captain, Conrad, Urban had restructured the knight order.
A few, like Deputy Jos, resigned in agreement. Rolan was appointed captain, while former squires Ranz, Nesaluk, and Vilsas were knighted.
But Ranz had apparently expected his father, Jos, to become captain.
The other two also seemed to have reservations about the restructuring. While they refrained from outright opposition, their dissatisfaction seeped into their actions.
Some resistance had been expected, but Urban and Lakius had proceeded anyway—again, due to their own lack of martial prowess.
Rolan was Reedwald's strongest knight and still hungered for greater strength.
Under his training, the knight order would one day be led by Alter.
By then, it would be a force worthy of the first and second generations.
If there was any miscalculation, it was that the backlash was stronger than anticipated.
A year later, Rolan still hadn't fully consolidated control.
With the silent Vilsas in tow, Lakius walked along the snow-dampened cobblestones.
Many still regarded him with awe, but the tension had eased compared to before.
Half a year ago, he'd begun imitating Alter, patrolling the town on foot.
Unbecoming behavior for a noble heir.
Urban had admonished him, and even Ranz and the others complained about the increased guard burden. Yet the need to disperse discontent with Rolan and his own desire to confirm something had won out.
The question was: How much of a hero was the first-generation Paul?
An individual's power has limits.
Offense is one thing, but even mages struggle to hold defenses alone.
Yet Paul had repeatedly succeeded because the people rallied to his aid.
Back then, Reedwald had few permanent residents—mostly merchants, adventurers, and wanderers.
Why had they cooperated?
Only one reason made sense: Paul had already won their hearts.
His peerage wasn't just due to achievements but because he was already their de facto ruler.
Realizing this, Lakius saw parallels between his great-grandfather and his brother.
Alter had forged bonds with a C-rank Battle Axe of Destruction, the notoriously difficult engraver Ragnidig, the master hunter Nerio, and others most would never meet.
If Alter were in dire straits, they'd aid him without hesitation.
Perhaps his great-grandfather had been like Alter.
But—Lakius shook his head.
(Great-grandfather was just a knight, and Alter is unburdened by status. That's why they're allowed such freedom. Father isn't wrong to act nobly. But as a barony, Reedwald is still in transition. By our children's or grandchildren's time, such informality won't be tolerated. So—for now, this might be fine.)
Casually shifting his gaze, he spotted two adventurers.
Young and shabbily dressed, they laughed while sharing skewers from a stall.
Watching them, Lakius mused:
(Maybe I'll walk through town with Alter when he returns.)
Imagining the scene, he allowed himself a slight smile.
But as he turned his gaze back down the street—Lakius's smile vanished.
People were fleeing the main gate.
Hearing the rising clamor like a tidal wave, Lakius broke into a sprint.
Against the crowd's flow, he dashed up the stairs beside the gate to the outer wall.
"What's happening!?"
"Baromatt troops!"
Following the soldier's pointing finger, Lakius saw the Baromatt army deploying.
Stunned, he scanned the plains.
Their numbers ranged from one to two hundred.
Fully armed and in orderly formation—these were no irregulars.
Spotting Lakius, former squire Nesaluk rushed over.
"Lakius-sama, no other Baromatt forces are in sight!"
"Send a swift messenger to Rolan!"
"Yes, sir!"
As Nesaluk barked orders, a messenger bolted from the side gate.
Ensuring they got away safely, Lakius turned his attention back to the Baromatt army.
(To get this close undetected… Were the patrols killed? But 200 is odd. Too many for a skirmish, too few for an assault. Likely the vanguard. If we're requesting reinforcements, now's the time.)
About to seek his father's judgment, Lakius froze.
Had he heard something?
Soldiers taking positions, residents fleeing the walls.
Amid the chaos, one soldier caught his eye.
The man was shoving through the crowd, desperation etched on his face as he ran toward them.
Nothing seemed amiss—other soldiers were also scrambling to the walls.
But Lakius recognized him.
Realizing who it was, his body moved before his mind could react.
"Hold here."
With those clipped words to Nesaluk and Vilsas, he broke into a sprint—first a jog, then full speed.
The soldier was one of the manor's gatekeepers.
Why had he left his post?
Why did he look so frantic?
Suppressing his pounding heart, Lakius ran.
A particularly loud shout made him glance back—and what he saw left him stunned.
Baromatt troops pouring through the open main gate.
The defenders fought in chaos, but most invaders ignored them, charging down the main street.
"Why…?"
"Lakius-sama—the manor! The manor is under attack!"
The gatekeeper's words didn't register.
Lakius silently stared at the manor, then at the gate.
Understanding the situation as the Baromatt troops advanced, he slowly looked up at the sky.
"Sorry, Alter."
Whispering softly, he drew his sword.
"Not one step further!"
"Y-Yes, sir!"
Pale but resolute, the gatekeeper unsheathed his blade and stood before Lakius.
On Reedwald's main street,
Lakius faced the Baromatt army—with only a single gatekeeper at his side.
◇◇◇◇
As dusk began to fall, Roland arrived on the outskirts of Reedwald after receiving an urgent report.
From horseback, he glared at the distant townscape.
His expression was grim, and the hand gripping the reins was clenched tight.
Before long, Emek Kaital, the knight accompanying him with a twenty-man subjugation force, also arrived.
As he pulled up beside Roland, he was struck speechless.
"The gate... already...?"
As the soldiers wavered, Roland urged his horse forward.
Following behind, Emek and the others saw Baromat soldiers pour out from the gate, alerted by their approach.
There were just over forty of them.
The Baromat soldiers parted, revealing two men.
One was a knight clad in a surcoat, the other a strange figure missing an arm and a leg.
"I am the Baromat Kingdom's knight, Paddles Seagas. You're Roland Dilatt, commander of the knights, aren't you?"
"I am."
Roland responded to the knight who gave his name.
"I'd love a duel, but I've got orders. Forgive me."
With a nod from Seagas, the strange figure stepped forward, using a beautiful spear like a cane.
Roland dismounted and drew his sword, observing the man.
A deformed figure wielding two spears.
There was only one adventurer in the world like that.
"Half-body Jared."
"Correct. Though you got back pretty quick. Could've used a bit more rest. Been moving nonstop."
"Rest all you like. I've got no business with you."
"Don't be like that. An adventurer's got to see the job through."
Jared's face twisted into a grin.
"Hiring an A-rank to kill me? You sure hold me in high regard."
"Ah... that. Sorry, you were only half the job."
Jared shrugged and looked around theatrically.
"The other half ain't coming back? Well, whatever. Searching ain't part of the job."
With that, Jared gave the divine spear Shitzar a light swing.
Roland turned his gaze from the sharp gust and looked toward the gate.
Faint clamor.
Though small in scale, the battle continued.
"Emek, head to the mansion! I'll hold this one off!"
"Understood! Break through the gate, move!"
As the subjugation squad charged, arrows and magic rained down from atop the outer wall.
Though engulfed in flames, Emek cut through them and charged toward Paddles Seagas.
In front of Reedwald's main gate.
The two armies began fighting as if avoiding the clash between Roland and Jared.
"Alright then, shall we begin too?"
Jared said, glancing sideways at the erupting swordfight, as Roland raised his shield and readied his sword.
An A-rank adventurer who roams the battlefield.
Roland had heard the rumors.
In his active days, such a figure had been far out of reach.
As Roland focused, the sounds of surrounding battle faded—and Jared vanished with a mocking grin.
By the time he noticed, a thrust had already been launched, and his reinforced shield was easily pierced.
He discarded the now-useless chunk of iron and swung a sharp slash, but it was smoothly deflected by the spinning shaft of the elegant spear.
Jared's thrusts were parried by Roland's sword, and Roland's slashes were deflected by the spear.
A sudden back-and-forth struggle had begun.
To any onlooker, it might have appeared to be an even match.
But the difference was obvious.
While Roland fought with desperate effort, Jared kept smiling.
That smile suddenly deepened, and the divine spear let out a strange howl.
A powerful impact echoed through the main gate.
"Not bad, old man."
Jared smirked at the unscathed Roland.
Jared had used [Spinning Sweep], and Roland countered with [Whirling Impact].
[Whirling Impact] was powerful enough to stop even the charge of Eras Rhino, but its long wind-up was a weakness. Roland had sacrificed power to shorten that and refined it into a practical skill.
Roland reset his stance and glanced at his Assault Sword.
Clashing directly with the divine spear had left the blade severely damaged.
This sword was a new magical tool he had obtained after delivering Alter to Selene.
It possessed a skill called [Skill Infusion: One-Handed Sword], which temporarily boosted his [One-Handed Sword] rank.
Though a fairly rare skill, it imposed a physical strain when used continuously, often making it unusable for long. Thus, it was usually seen as a dud skill.
When Roland found the Assault Sword being sold for cheap, he had a thought.
Perhaps the strain was simply proof of underdeveloped training.
After that, he trained through the pain, ignoring the fear of reaching his limits, for three years straight.
As a result, all his stats now exceeded his former self, and his [One-Handed Sword] had reached rank 9.
"Let's pick up the pace. Try not to die too fast, yeah?"
As Jared spoke, the divine spear wavered.
The tip of Roland's sword was knocked aside by the first hit of [Twin Thrust], and the second grazed his twisted face.
Barely dodging the flowing [Piercing Blow], Roland activated [Skill Infusion: One-Handed Sword].
In that instant, his grip, swing angles, and weight shifts subtly changed.
Roland was now at the peak of [One-Handed Sword] rank.
In terms of swordsmanship alone, he was on par with [Sword Flash] or [Sword Dance].
He parried the next [Twin Thrust] with [Twin Strikes], then deflected the follow-up [Triple Thrust] with [Wild Slash].
After several rounds of clashing skill and will, Jared pulled back his divine spear.
"Your movements changed."
"[Skill Infusion]. Not exactly rare."
"True, the skill ain't rare. But users are. Anyway, were you really C-rank before? With your skills, you could've hit B-rank easy."
"I wasn't this strong when I retired. And—"
If I stayed weak, I would've been left behind.
Roland stopped mid-sentence, tightening his lips.
Focusing on the burn on his head, he pictured a boy.
The lord's second son wasn't something you could sum up with words like genius or prodigy.
He had the same skill as the hero Lapnas and was growing at an unbelievable pace.
Three years had passed—what kind of changes had he undergone?
Roland felt both fear and undeniable excitement.
He also knew exactly what his lord and that successor expected of him.
All the more reason he couldn't remain weak.
Sensing that determination, Jared narrowed his eyes.
"Still growing at your age, huh? I'm jealous, in a way. Alright then—let's see the fruit of your effort."
Jared slammed the butt of the divine spear into the ground and leapt at Roland.
The Assault Sword clashed with Itsuro's prosthetic leg, and Roland took the full brunt of [Kick Blade].
Without giving Roland time to recover, Jared spun and launched a sweeping [Heavy Strike], but Roland forced up a [Strong Slash] to deflect it.
But then the spear's butt struck his head with pinpoint precision, sending him flying.
Standing on just his prosthetic leg, Jared looked down calmly.
"No matter how much you train, there are some walls you just can't break. How's it feel hitting one? Feels hopeless, doesn't it?"
Wiping the dirt off, Roland stood up and faced the sarcastic smile.
"You hit that wall, and now look at you."
"Yeah. Just the pathetic end of a would-be hero."
"What did you face?"
Roland's question left Jared momentarily speechless.
Then he gave a bitter laugh and shook his head.
"A dragon. I wandered into a nest and ran into something weird. Probably a type of earth dragon, but who knows. Whatever it was, it was way stronger than any grown dragon. My friends were killed, and I ended up like this. Really drove it home. To those things, humans are just goblins."
"Could be. If it was an ancient dragon, only heroes remembered in history could fight them."
"Heroes, huh..."
Murmuring, Jared looked far to the west.
"War god Sleyas never fought an ancient dragon. Beast god Zebell's just a fairy tale. Heroes are just the wishful thinking of weak humans."
Jared laughed bitterly.
At that moment, Emek's battle cry rang out.
It sounded like he was struggling against Paddles Seagas.
Jared glanced that way and shrugged.
"Let's wrap this up."
"Very well."
They faced each other again.
Roland fixed his eyes on Jared and steadied his breathing.
(This man stands at the pinnacle of human potential—)
I must throw away my life.
Otherwise, I can't even reach him.
With resolve, Roland stepped forward.
With a sharp breath, he unleashed his full power into a [Whirling Impact].
In that instant, Jared's body bent in an unnatural way.
A [Martial Art] skill, [Flexibility], which raised bodily pliancy beyond normal limits.
The divine spear glinted from an impossible angle, but Roland, undaunted, followed with [Twin Strikes].
But the divine spear never countered.
Jared twisted his already-twisted body further.
By the time Roland sensed the blade wind, his right arm—gripping the Assault Sword—was flying through the air.
A trail of blood followed the cursed spear Skipus Jared carried.
Its shaft, made of flexible Kusmul wood, allowed whip-like motion through a high [Repair] skill.
Without even glancing at his severed arm, Roland drew a dagger with his left hand and unleashed a [Strong Slash].
A strike made by sacrificing life.
Yet—it didn't reach.
Jared easily leapt backward, grinning widely.
"You were fun, old man."
The divine spear Shitzar, carrying [Spiral Piercer], was thrown from close range.
Even with the spear piercing his chest, Roland kept advancing.
He raised the dagger—then collapsed.
"Captain!?"
Ignoring his own foe, Emek rushed to his side.
With a disapproving glance, Jared caught the divine spear arcing in from behind to impale Emek.
"Don't add to my workload."
"The divine spear did it, not me. And the headcount's even. That makes two."
Seagas muttered and scanned the battlefield.
"The rest are grunts! Exterminate them!"
With that order, the Baromat army launched a fierce assault.
With Roland and Emek gone, the subjugation force was helplessly cut down.
A fleeing soldier was blasted away by a [Fireball].
Amid screams, Jared turned and looked up at the townscape with a sullen face.
"Evened out, huh..."
Jared's mission was to kill Knight Commander Roland and the second son, Alter.
He'd been strictly ordered to prioritize Alter above all else.
(Killing nobles leads to revenge and headaches. I wouldn't mind if he doesn't come back.)
Most adventurers avoided targeting nobles, even on battlefields.
Unlike mercenaries who moved in groups, small elite adventurer teams stood out and often became political pawns or bounty targets.
Jared was no exception, usually steering clear of noble targets.
But he'd accepted this job because of something the Baromat commander, Count Lisrant, said.
"Alter, the second son, is the strongest in the Reedwald family."
At the time, Jared thought it a joke.
He knew the Reedwalds—whatever their past glory, no boy who hadn't even come of age could be the strongest.
He took the job out of curiosity but had already lost interest.
Knight Commander Roland had been unbelievably strong for someone serving a baronial house.
Even against [Sword Flash] Klaus, it would've been a fair fight.
Even if Count Lisrant had been serious, it had to be exaggeration or misinformation.
Just as Jared concluded that, a memory returned.
A small man he'd faced in a burning camp.
Even going all out, he couldn't land a hit, let alone kill him.
The face had been hidden, but the voice was clearly young.
And the second son of Reedwald had reportedly attended the academy in Selene.
The pieces clicked together, forming a picture.
But—
"Ridiculous. No noble like that could exist."
Jared laughed it off and cast the thought away.