1

Using the tall grass for cover, Izumi and Waramoti approached the fire in the night. Negotiating with stubborn Yukimura proved the hardest part, and it had grown quite dark by the time they could get a better view of the unexpected camp. Of course, not even Izumi was careless enough to approach unknown people in such a place without first seeing what they were like.

The sight was certainly a strange one.

Around a little bonfire made up of gathered twigs and branches were five miserable figures, three horses, and three tents close behind. They weren’t simple hunters or travelers, by the looks of them, nor were they elves. All wore knightly attires, predominantly deep blue, with white linings; overcoats with hoods, and light studded armors underneath. All five were armed with swords. Not a word they exchanged with one another. They sat in a loose circle, staring apathetically into the waning bonfire, under the airy rain that went on without a pause, even as darkness gathered.

None of the people looked particularly menacing, at least.

They didn’t seem like seasoned travelers or hardened warriors either.

Indeed, the group appeared only terribly out of place so far out in the marsh, bringing the reality of the vision reasonably to question.

“What do you think?” Izumi whispered to the man kneeling beside her. “They’re not Imperials, are they?”

“No,” Waramoti replied. “Those stripes and the emblems they wear...They would be from Ludgwert. It’s a small vassal state of the Empire, on the eastern side of the Abserim mountains. Knights of the Statesguard, Baron’s men. Very far from home.”

“So they’re friends? Nobody we’ve oppressed recently or about to start a war with?”

“Their economy depends on trade with the Empire, so they should have no reason to hate us. Not that our alignment means anything under the circumstances. They will not trust us any better than if we were malicious spirits. And I don’t trust them either.”

“Well, we’d better change that attitude right away!”

“Hey.”

Izumi stood up from her hiding spot and boldly approached the camp.

“Ya-hullo, fellas!” she cheerfully exclaimed, stepping into the circle of light. “How’s the nature treatin’ ya?”

At once, all five strangers forgot their fatigue and sprung up to their feet, startled, a few reaching for their swords. The looks directed at the woman from Earth were full of disbelief—and outright horror.

“Relax, relax,” she told them with calming gestures. “I’m no Jack-’o-Lantern, Kappa, Baba Yaga, or Boogeyman. It’s a bona fide hero you’re staring at, so chill out.”

Then, Waramoti stepped up beside her.

The Ludgwertans stumbled out of shock and one man fell on his bottom in a nearby puddle. Then they all froze stiff in terror, forgetting whatever they were intending to do, helplessly awaiting for whatever terrible end to claim them.

Except for one.

With a sharp swish, a sword was drawn, and that knight took a brave step towards the pair in the light’s limit.

It was a woman—or a girl, more like, much younger than Izumi. Hardly any older than Yuliana either, Izumi noted, probably in her early twenties at best. Her hood was cast back, fully showing her fair head, with long, curling, wheat-blonde hair, and willful blue eyes. And a soft face, beautiful, but clearly unaccustomed to need or hardship.

“Who are you!?” the young woman questioned the two travelers, holding up her wavering weapon. It was a slim blade with an ornate guard, reminiscent of the French-style florets of old. “Name yourselves, if names you have, you stalkers in the night!”

As courageous as she tried to appear, the girl was clearly forcing it. Her voice and demeanor missed both fighting spirit, as well as confidence. She didn’t have the charisma of a commander, nor the aloof elegance of royalty, not the mysterious air of an arcane master, and not the humor of a veteran traveler either. All in all, she appeared to be precisely what she looked, a lost young girl.

The sheer pity her appearance evoked denied any chance of her being a wraith.

“Well, I’m Izumi,” Izumi introduced herself. “Itaka Izumi, from—well, the Empire, I suppose. I had a stalker in high school, but I haven’t been stalking anybody myself in a while, so the accusation’s completely misplaced. And the guy here, who looks like the bassist of a death metal band, is Bara-motty.”

“Waramoti,” Waramoti corrected.

“Waramoti...?” the knight repeated. “From the Empire…? It couldn’t be, Heaven’s Hand himself...!?”

It appeared that the name rang a bell in the audience.

“The Vengeful Flame of Tratovia?”

“The Strongest Hero of mankind?”

“The Three’s Chosen?”

“The First-Ranked Champion!?”

“You don’t have a lot of namesakes, do you?” Izumi asked the man.

“I’m a bard,” Waramoti insisted.

“No, he’s the one,” Izumi hurried to tell the others. “Yes, the biggest and the baddest. All your worries are absolutely at an end now. So you can all sit back down and relax. And change your briefs, if you must.”

The ragged fellowship appeared to take her words to heart, and slowly returned to their seats. Without the strength to even put her sword away, the female knight fell back on the rock she had sat on, exhaling deep.

“There’s no hope for us, even if the Emperor himself came,” she lamented.

“Why’s that?” Izumi asked, coming closer to the fire. “Don’t think it’s a cheap pick-up line, but what’s a gal like you doing in a place like this, anyway?”

“If you hail from the Empire, as you say, and bear no ill will, I have little cause to hide our circumstances from you,” the girl answered, gesturing around. “Do make yourselves comfortable. Our tale is quite the pitiful one, and may take a moment to share. We don’t have much to offer you on the side of a sad story, save for a bit of soup, if you hunger.”

2

Izumi and Waramoti gratefully took up the offer, brought Yukimura over, and set up their tents as an extension to the knights’ camp. Once they were ready, they took seats in the circle around the fading fire, which they revitalized with wood of their own. Warming their hands on cups of light but pleasantly salty soup, they listened to the knights’ tale.

“My name is Millanueve de Guillon,” the girl, who appeared to be in charge of the group, introduced herself. “I am the daughter of Baron de Guillon who currently lords over Ludgwert, as you may know. This here is my younger brother, Alexander. The rest are all trusted men of my father’s guard: Stefan Sileaur, Magnus Belavere, and Benedict Vondeholm.”

The others made reserved nods as their names were mentioned.

Now that Izumi looked at him, the boy called Alexander did bear a distinct resemblance to his sister. Both had hair the color of ripe wheat, blue eyes, and fair faces unhardened by fate, even if exhausted at present. Stefan was an older man, lanky and a bit daft-looking, but with a friendly spirit visible on his unshaven face; Magnus was somewhat chubby for a traveling knight, clearly better adjusted to safe life in a city, but quite sympathetic by countenance also; and Benedict was clearly the eldest of the crew, probably well over forty, going by his coarse visage—and most likely the sole reason they had made it as far as they had.

“Fifteen there were of us when we set out from my father’s halls,” Millanueve grimly continued. “Now...as you can see for yourselves.”

The difference in numbers was certainly clear.

Benedict explained to Waramoti in a low tone,

“Four we lost in an ambush by a pair of archgriffins at the mouth of Manofest, together with the horses. Two got poisoned by a basilisk some days after, and succumbed within the hour. Three got separated from the rest in the marsh, and were never seen again. The last one, Mikael, we lost early this very morning. He claimed to have seen his late father and rode off into the mist before anyone could stop him. We found no trace of either him or the mount, though we searched all day.”

Recollecting the misfortunes of their journey, the knights fell silent and downcast again. Waramoti showed no compassion for their toils and soon broke the grieving pause.

“One might say your failures were your own doing,” he told them with sternness in his tone. “Have you never heard a word of Henglog, or why have you chosen to challenge it with knowledge and experience so wanting? You should have turned back long ago, yet here you sit, and I’ve scarce beheld faces as sad.”

“As if we had a choice!” Millanueve snapped back at him, while the rest hung their heads in shame. “It was not for pleasure that we left! An important duty drives us, and who would take it to carry in our stead, were we to stop midway through?”

“No, the man’s right,” Benedict shook his head. “We knew too little about the road and it’s cost us dearly. Seeing how hopeless our mission proved, we might as well not have come. A cause unfulfilled, no matter how noble the intentions, can only be called a fool’s errand.”

“Still…!” The girl bit her lip, unable to find the words to retort with.

“I get that things didn’t go as planned,” Izumi spoke. “But what was the plan, anyway? Are you here to see elves too?”

“Indeed, we are,” Millanueve answered her.

“You jest,” Waramoti groaned.

“I wouldn’t dream of it!”

“Well,” Izumi contemplated, “the search for true beauty unites all people, I suppose.”

“Beauty had naught to do with it!” Offended by the two’s offhanded replies, Millanueve de Guillon exclaimed. “Justice is what we pursue! To have what was taken from us returned!”

“Taken?”

Millanueve regained her composure and explained,

“It was about three years ago, or so, that the first reports reached my father, concerning a number of folk who had gone missing in southern Ludgwert. Not just one or two of them. Even smaller villages in their entirety had vanished without a trace, emptied of life, with nothing to explain it. At first, we suspected a manticor, or a drake, or some such large beast had made a nest in the region, but investigations found no trace of any such a thing. As time went on and more people continued to vanish, we intensified our efforts, and eventually came to uncover something truly mortifying. For many years now, the villagers and farmers in the south had been involved in active trade with the elves of Alderia!”

While Izumi looked blankly on, the already severe frown on Waramoti’s brow deepened.

“Are you quite certain about that?” he asked.

The idea that the elves had crossed the marshland and approached people, whom they had deemed mere pests for thousands of years, was quite unbelievable. What could have brought about such an unprecedented change of policy?

“There can be no mistake,” Millanueve insisted. “Fearing for their lives, the villagers came clean and told us everything.”

“Trade implies there was something for both sides to gain of it,” the bard said. “What did the elves want?”

“Nothing much,” Benedict answered him. “At first. Grain, dairy products, linen, game. Common things. In exchange, the elves gave people gold, jewels, magical tools, and medicine. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement, so the villagers kept their dealings with the elven folk a secret from the local yarls for years. Until it stopped being so good.”

“You mean to say that the elves were responsible for the disappearances?” Waramoti inferred.

“No doubt about it!” Millanueve interjected. “According to several witness testimonies, the elves had suddenly presented them with loathsome requests. They wanted no more simple merchandise, but human children to take with them! They were promised a good life and protection—protection from what?—but the villagers, sensing evil, refused. From that point on, the trade ceased and the disappearances began. Disappearances! Kidnappings, more like!”

“What could they need human children for?” Waramoti pondered.

“I wouldn’t presume to know their reasons. It was to learn the truth that we resolved to defy the risks and make for Alderia ourselves. To seek counsel with the Immortal King and hear what he has to say in his people’s defense. Whether their espionage into our land was an act of war, or the idle work of lawless renegades—either way, the king of the elves has a lot to answer for.”

“Truly, a fool’s errand,” the bard shook his head with a sigh. “Would a mouse demand a cat to answer for eating its kin? Your quest was doomed from the start. The only way it may end is with you disappearing the same way as the rest.”

“Then what should we have done!?” Millanueve bitterly exclaimed. “Sit and watch as our people are stolen from their homes!? My father has grown weak, burdened by a long term illness. He barely has the understanding to govern his people anymore, leaving all the decision-making to his conniving counselors. And they only care about lining their own pockets! No matter the evidence we presented them, they refused to take the threat seriously or respond in any way! It’s pointless to wait for the Empire to come save us either! They have little care for the people they’ve already bent to their will, only new conquests in their sights! Taking the few people I could trust and going myself was the only option! Otherwise, we may never learn for what evil our people were abducted. I cannot let it to go on! Someone has to do something!”

The weary but determined looks of Millanueve’s companions appeared to suggest their agreement. Still, it was a perilous quest they had embarked on, there could be no doubt of that. Sheer madness, looking at their chances. On the other hand, Izumi had no will nor the right to judge them too harshly. The knights’ cause was in every way better justified than her own.

“What about yourselves then?” Millanueve asked the two travelers, her agitation simmering down. “What brings the famous hero of Tratovia and his partner to a place this deadly and devoid of hope?”

“For a honeymoon, you could have picked a better destination,” the knight called Stefan added, managing to inspire a few tired chuckles from his comrades.

“I’m a bard,” Waramoti said, without so much as a smirk.

“I’m in no way bonded with this guy,” Izumi said, no less serious.

“A bard?” Millanueve raised her brows.

“Indeed,” the ex-warrior made a firm nod. “I am here for no other purpose but to gather material for what shall become my greatest work, the song that will lift me to world-wide fame and figurative immortality.”

“And I am here for no other purpose but to find cute elves,” Izumi declared, going entirely ignored.

“We shall...leave it at that then,” the knight girl politely said, apparently deeming that the answers were lies meant to hide some manner of a secret quest.

“Oh, but what are you going to do from now on?” Izumi asked in turn. “Even after all the setbacks along the way, are you still going to keep going?”

“Of course, we are!” Millanueve answered. “The very memory of the fallen is urging us on! If we give up here and now, we’ll only disgrace what they fought and died for! That’s unacceptable!”

“Are all girl knights like this?” Izumi made a troubled frown.

“Not like we know the way back either,” Magnus remarked. “Whether we want to keep going or turn back, it makes no difference, pretty much.”

“You don’t have so much as a compass?” Waramoti asked him.

“...Mikael had it,” Benedict dejectedly answered.

“The only reason we’d waste the whole day looking for a pig like him,” Alexander spat.

“Brother!” Millanueve reprimanded her inconsiderate sibling. “Don’t speak ill of the dead!”

“I’m so sorry!” the brother replied, not sounding very sincere.

“What a troublesome bunch,” Izumi commented.

“Regardless of our reasons, it seems we are headed the same way,” Benedict spoke to the adventurers. “Would you be opposed to joining forces? It would be assuring to travel with a famous hero by our side.”

“Certainly,” Millanueve agreed, “It could well be that our meeting tonight was an act of Divine providence. I’d feel a good deal better, having your strength and experience with us, Lord Waramoti. If only you will it.”

“It would be an honor, sir,” Stefan added.

“Aye,” Magnus nodded.

“I’m completely ignored, huh,” Izumi complained. “Though I’m the protagonist.”

Not that Izumi had much experience to brag about. What little she knew about hiking in the wilderness came chiefly from foreign survival manuals and a handful of family-friendly trips to Hokkaido. Though she did believe the know-how had been helpful in keeping her alive this far.

“Personally, I am against it,” Waramoti answered the knights’ hopes with an air of indifference. “Conquering Henglog isn’t a battle you win with numbers. On the contrary. But the one calling the shots is ultimately not me, but that woman.”

It was now that everyone around gave somewhat dubious looks to Izumi.

Finding herself as the sudden center of attention, Izumi made a nervous cough, straightened her posture, and declared,

“W-well, it can’t be helped! I happen to be a hero, after all! It wouldn’t be right to abandon a pretty gir—I mean, brave knights in mortal peril! Of course we can go together! Rest easy now! All your worries are practically over!”

The knights made relieved smiles at her words.

Their delight was left short-lived, however, interrupted by Waramoti’s basso.

“That being said, as the second-in-command, I must impose certain conditions on our jolly co-operation.”

The smiles quickly faded and the knights listened on.

“First off, there will be no hand-holding,” Waramoti told them. “You fail to keep up, or lose your way, by accident or on purpose, you will be on your own. There will be no stopping or searching for anyone who goes missing. Second, it will be my way, or the highway. This is not a democracy. I generally won’t tell you what to do, but if I do tell you to do something, whatever it is, I expect that you do so immediately and without questions. Disagree with me and you’re on your own. Get in my way and I will kick your asses.”

The knights looked stiff but no one protested.

“Three,” the bard went on, “and this is important! Do not, under any circumstances, listen to anything this woman tells you, if it is even remotely connected to our heading or survival. We will all be doomed. Four, anyone who calls me, ‘Heaven’s Hand’, a hero, a champion, or whatever, I will kick their asses. I am a bard. Are we clear?”

A moment of stunned silence followed his instructions.

Then, shaken from their collective dismay, the knights answered as one,

“Y-yes, sir!”

“Was it only my imagination, or was there a rather rude opinion about me and my leadership mixed in?” Izumi asked.

“You were hearing things.”

With that, the decision was made. Izumi’s two-player party merged with the Ludgwertan knights on their shared quest for Alderia. The latter team was greatly relieved by this turn of events, and went to sleep feeling at ease for the first time in weeks. In spite of Waramoti’s initial reluctance, a steady, low-tone snore soon carried from his tent as well. Whatever he thought about the Ludgwertans, it seemed he hadn’t considered them threatening in any way.

Izumi, not feeling sleepy for the thrill of meeting new people, promised to put out the fire and sat alone for a while, staring into the embers. Random larger droplets hit the cooling coals, making them pop and hiss.

But Izumi’s mind was elsewhere.

“I’m moving on,” she quietly mumbled. “That’s right. I won’t ever stop.”

Who was she even talking to?

3

From the next morning on, the journey continued with a leisurely air comparable to a middle school class trip. Stefan and Magnus were chatting freely as they marched on after Yukimura and the cart, on the back of which Waramoti lazed, writing his notes and lyrics, without a worry in the world. A somewhat adept ranger himself, Benedict had willingly taken the lead a good sixty feet ahead, scouting for the path of least natural obstacles and pitfalls for the rest to follow.

Even the terrain itself appeared to have turned more favorable today, allowing the cart to proceed with little detours or bumps. At the tail followed the knights’ horses, herded by the pair of siblings. And Izumi had returned to holding Yukimura’s reins on the cart driver’s perch, a job as little demanding as it was rewarding. The horse was quite clever, even if incapable of human speech, and had switched to following Benedict’s back without special instructions.

The weather was nearly identical to the day before, the early noon being without rain, making the march a simple task, even if monotonous. At the current pace, with the added eyes to keep watch, it seemed that reaching the elven land on foot was by no means unfeasible.

Soon growing bored with the uneventful ride, Izumi turned to talk to Stefan and Magnus, who now hiked beside the cart.

“Hey, have you ever actually seen them before?” she asked. “Elves, I mean.”

“Oh, no. Not even once,” Magnus answered her with a quick shake of head.

“My aunt had a book with pictures of ‘em,” Stefan said. “They had all pointy ears and long noses, faces like a crescent moon. I reckon the author hadn’t seen any either.”

“Right,” his companion chuckled. “Older folks used to scare us when we were kids, saying, ‘better behave yourselves or the elves’ll take you! They’ll grind powder out of your bones, put your eyeballs in a jar, suck out all the blood, and feed the rest to vultures.’”

“T’s right. Elves were just a strange name people could only vaguely tell belonged to real beings—what better excuse to keep the brats in line? And it worked too. I wouldn’t dare go anywhere near the woods after dark when I was little. Of course, worse things out there than elves, so good thing I didn’t.”

“So they never did mingle with people in all this time, though they live so close by?” Izumi asked. “In the open, anyway.”

“Ah, aye, the secret trade thing,” Magnus nodded. “Couldn’t believe it happened, but with so many people saying the same thing, I guess it did. Why’d they have to be so sneaky about it, anyway? Make you wonder about their intentions...”

“What’s there to wonder about!” Stefan exclaimed with a shudder. “They were never up to any good and aware of it themselves, those knife-eared freaks! Not the sort you’d go out with for a jolly night of drinking, they sure ain’t.”

“Why’s that?” Magnus asked him. “Have you heard any stories?”

“Aye. I read through a bunch of them testimonies they sent from Burbank. Interviews with the villagers who took part in the trade, and others. Turns out there were tons of sightings, even by folks who weren’t aware of what was going on. Straight up nightmare fuel, I tell you, those reports. Didn’t sleep a wink on the night after going through the lot of them.”

“Well? What did they say?” Magnus was unable to contain his morbid curiosity. “Tell me!”

“Lemme think,” Stefan spent a moment to recall what he had read. “One was about an older lady. A woodcutter’s wife, I believe she was. Was picking up firewood a distance away from her house one day, when all of a sudden, a tall man stepped out of nothing. A giant, she described him, at least nine feet tall. He stood there, in the meadow, just staring at her. The witness said he had, ‘eyes like those of a dead fish’, and an inhuman, unnatural complexion, being pale as a wax candle. The giant man was dressed in pure silver from head to feet, like a glittering mountain. After a while, he’d said something to the woman, and it was ‘like his voice had become thunder itself’, or so the report said. The woman was struck down by the force of his thuum, and by the time she recovered, the vision was gone.”

“By the mighty!” Magnus exclaimed, trying to picture it.

“The witness said her goat milked blood for three days after the encounter, and she had massive headaches which would leave her near blind and crippled.”

“The Lords! So? What else was there?”

“I remember this one too,” Stefan continued. “A certain youngster’s father was one of them traders. Listen to this; one night, he took his wife ‘n kids with him to the secret meeting. The exchange took place deep in the woods, on a moonlit clearing. The man warned his family not to look the elves in the eyes, or speak unless they were spoken to. Gave a whole lot of instructions, so as to not offend them. Called them all respectfully ‘aldervolk’, like they say in the myths. He’d often lecture his kids on how the elves had great magic powers, and could wipe out all of mankind in a week, if only they wanted to. And that one of these days, they will. And if we humans want to survive, then we’ve got to try and play nice with them. He was sure that with his services to them, he’d earned his family amnesty for when the Alderians would finally make their move. Can you believe that crap?”

“Musta been one Hel of a spell they put him under!” Magnus replied, looking appalled.

“No kidding! So then, they went in the middle of the forest and waited. Waited for a long while, and then the elves showed up, like slipping straight out of thin air. Five of them. All men, tall, hair like silver and platinum, wearing bizarre clothes and carrying strange weapons. And they glowed in the night, like they had lamps burning inside their bodies!”

“You’re pulling my leg!”

“That’s what it said!” Stefan insisted on his story. “I couldn’t believe it either, to be frank. The witness described their eyes shining like stars and all were unbearably horrible to look at. Said he nearly fainted out of shock and fear.”

“I would’ve fainted too, for sure.”

“Oh but it gets worse from there,” Stefan continued. “Instead of the usual stuff, the elves had a special request this time. That was the real reason why the man had brought his family along so suddenly, you see. Get this—they asked for his daughter, to take with them!”

“No way!” Magnus recoiled, abhorred. “His daughter! What did the man say?”

“Handed her over, apparently,” Stefan answered. “Without a word. Obedient like a dog. The madman worshiped the elves like they were Gods themselves. Even offered his son, but they wouldn’t have him. Which is the only reason we got this testimony, I guess.”

“Heavens smite me...What did the guardsmen do? Did they ever get the daughter back?”

“No,” Stefan shook his head. “It all took place more than six months before the plot was unraveled. The elves never returned after that meeting, it turns out. Probably returned to Alderia with their catch. Of course, the father was arrested after the questioning and locked up. They couldn’t let a traitor to his own kind walk free no more. Who knows what else he would do, in his madness. He’s sure to stay locked up for a long while, with his son and wife testifying against him.”

“Of course!” Magnus exclaimed. “Hope they whipped the madness out of him too! How could he do such a thing? Sell out his own flesh and blood! That’s sick!”

“A man can be made to do the darnest things, if only you convince him it’s for his own good. But blast it, it really was a hideous business, all in all. And not the only one of its kind.”

Izumi followed the conversation without a word.

By chance, she had already met an elf in the past.

Certain Caalan Litha Nid Vi Vaniphelia.

That person was both more terrifying as well as more enthralling than the knights’ stories made her kindred seem.

Then again, a rift had formed between the Court Wizard of Tratovia and her people in the past. The great Divide of the elvenkind two centuries ago had been more than a simple disagreement over politics. It had affected the very underlying nature, spirit, and biology of those beings, rendering them forever strangers to one another.

The once great race was now two.

The cirelo of Ledarnia across the sea—their small colony fighting an endless war against an unbeatable enemy.

And the emiri of Alderia in their secluded island—the withdrawn remnants of the fallen civilization.

Would they ever meet each other as family again?

Thinking about it all, a strange emotion suddenly welled up in Izumi. There emerged an odd ache in her chest, a new sort of restlessness she had never known before. It took Izumi a moment to recognize that feeling by the aid of inborn intuition shared by all.

Yes, she was undeniably homesick.

Recalling Court Wizard Carmelia’s gentle voice and timeless features, a sudden, overwhelming desire to see her and speak with her again brought a lump in the woman’s throat. Izumi hurried to suppress the feeling and force it from her consciousness, but it wouldn’t entirely disappear for the whole day.

The next time I see her, I’ll give her a squeeze. Even if she turns me into a frog, I will.

——“That’s a curious sword you have there.”

Izumi was shaken from her thoughts by a clear voice.

Stefan and Magnus had moved aside, giving room for Millanueve, who now brought her gray mare closer to the cart. As casual as she had made the observation sound, there was an underlying edge to it. The knight girl wasn’t particularly skilled at hiding what she was thinking. In that regard, she bore another striking similarity to that certain princess, Izumi thought.

What Millanueve had been eyeing was Izumi’s blade, the Amygla, resting aboard the cart, against the side board. The greatsword’s surface showed clear and bright under the diffused sunlight, lacking a sheath large enough to conceal it without costs in weight and practicality.

“It’s not Imperial make, is it?” the knight maiden continued. “I’ve never seen such a peculiar design before.”

“I think you have a prettier one. Wanna trade?” Izumi suggested in return.

“My sword’s not for sale,” Millanueve answered. “The hope and pride of Ludgwert ride on its blade.”

“That’s one heavy sword then. Maybe heavier than mine; it’s only got my life on it.”

“Perhaps you are the curious one, more so than the weapon,” the knight continued, turning the gaze of her sky-blue eyes at Izumi. That stare was direct and unabashed, to an unsettling degree. Not because it showed no fear—but probably more because she knew no people well enough to fear them, laying her naivety bare.

“W-why, are you interested in me?” Izumi attempted to hide her insecurity by acting like a player, following the example of a certain rogue assassin she had once known.

“That’s right, I am,” Millanueve loudly declared, completely missing the innuendo.

Since they were going to risk their lives together from hereon, it was necessary to learn more about one another—such had probably been her reasoning. But leaving the context out, her curt declaration only came across as very strange.

“Wow. Now that’s direct talk,” Izumi replied. “I have to wonder, is everyone in your land this...open about things?”

“What do you mean, open?” the girl tilted her head. “Certainly, ours are honest people, who speak their minds, and I am proud to count myself among them. What of it?”

“No, nothing. People in this world sure are progressive—is what I was thinking...”

“This world?”

“Never mind.”

“Very well. So, Lady Izumi. Where in the Empire are you coming from and what do you seek in Alderia, exactly?”

“Why are you grilling me?” Izumi asked without answering. “What about the big guy? Isn’t the difference in treatment a little unfair? No matter how you look, he’s the more suspicious one.”

“Regarding Heav—Sir Waramoti,” Millanueve corrected herself with a cough, “I am familiar with his fame, having heard many a tale of his exploits, and his stated reasons appear to match with his actions. On the other hand, I never would have imagined finding such a fair maiden in a Lords-forsaken place like this. So is it not only natural that I’d question your purpose instead?”

“F-f-f-fair?” Izumi felt her face warm up. “My, my, aren’t you a player? You’re leaving this old maid at a loss.”

“Hm? What kind of a game are you thinking about?” the girl tilted her head in confusion.

“I have to admit,” Izumi continued, forcing her eyes away from Millanueve’s shifting thighs, “It’s rather embarrassing to talk about these things with everyone listening in on us. I’d prefer getting to know each other in more private circumstances, in peace and quiet. There are certain conventions to these things, you know? I mean, that’s what they invented dates for.”

“Dates? They don’t grow in Ludgwert, though...” the knight mumbled.

“Look, big sis is flattered, but I’m currently going through a bit difficult phase...More importantly, as the older one here, I should advise you against making passes at strangers so carelessly. You might come to regret it one day.”

“Passes? Regrets?” Millanueve echoed. “I didn’t give you anything, did I? I fail to see what you’re going on about. But if it’s the presence of my companions that keeps you from answering me, then I can only assure you that there is no cause for concern. I trust each one of them with my life and there’s nothing I wouldn’t share with them.”

“N-nothing?” Izumi gasped. “Now, that’s really a tad too liberal for me!”

“Pardon me?”

“Call me a prude, but the culture I’m from is a little different. And there are various things I’m certainly not willing to share with a wider audience. My tent, for one.”

“Hm?” the knight’s confusion only deepened as she struggled to understand the woman. “I do have my own tent, so I have no need for yours. Though, I don’t see why I couldn’t share it, if the situation calls for it, small as it is. That’s such a strange thing to get protective about...”

“ENOUGH ABOUT TENTS, IT’S SO EMBARRASSING I WANT TO DIE!” Izumi wailed, hiding her face in her hands.

“W-what…?” Millanueve blinked, startled.

“Okay,” Izumi recovered, “maybe I can still fix this. Listen to big sis here. It’s a very, very big deal who you share your tent with. Because if you take it too far, you may find yourself as having lost something precious to you as a maiden. Something you can never get back again, if you get what I’m saying. So you should be very careful with who you let under the covers, and not get frisky with an older woman you’ve only just met. Greater souls have given in to temptation.”

“Temptation…?” the knight girl looked like her head was hurting. “I really don’t think my tent is anything too special. It’s a standard-issue military one, like any other. And I didn’t bring anything particularly precious with me either, so even if something were taken, I probably wouldn’t miss it, I think.”

“Don’t say that!” Izumi scolded her. “It’s one of those things the value of which you’ll only realize when it’s gone.”

“I-is that so?” Millanueve replied. “Honestly, I have no idea what it could be—No, wait! You keep on dodging my questions with your nonsense! Which makes me wonder if you aren’t indeed keeping something of grave importance from us!”

“Well, isn’t that obvious? There are things I wouldn’t announce out in the open, even if my life depended on it, that’s for sure. Because I happen to value my pride as a woman.”

“Is this the time to hide behind cultural conventions, in your opinion?” Millanueve asked Izumi. “Seeing where we’re headed and the dangers along the way, we’ll have to learn to trust each other. Keeping secrets will only seed discord in times of crisis—”

—“DON’T TALK ABOUT SEEDING, IT’S TOO NAUGHTY!” Izumi yelled, hiding her face again.

“Why!?” The knight girl struggled to follow the conversation. “Cultures aside, I’m beginning to wonder if we’re even from the same planet. No, rather just answer the question already—Huh...?”

Millanueve interrupted herself, seeing the odd expressions of the people around. Waramoti cleared his throat, while hiding his smile behind his notebook. Stefan and Magnus couldn’t keep their poker faces but cracked under the pressure, bending over with laughter.

“What?” Millanueve looked at them, irritated. “What are you all laughing for? What is so funny?”

“Idiots.” Behind, Alexander wiped his reddened face, deeply embarrassed.

“Brother? What is it!? Really!”

“Thank goodness,” Izumi said with relief. “So you were an innocent soul, after all. Just like me.”

“Why!? What do you mean by that?”

Millanueve spent the better part of the following hour silently reflecting on the contents of the earlier conversation. Then, a bit short of noon, without a warning, the girl’s jaw dropped and the milky whiteness of her cheeks turned bright rosy.

Immediately after, a high-pitched cry echoed over the wetland.

——“THAT WAS NOT WHAT I MEAAAAANT!”

For the longest time after, the knight maiden from Ludgwert refused to speak at all.