Gilbert sat side by side with Flora on the carriage’s cargo bed, their backs against the wall as they quietly engaged in their handiwork. He held a small knife, skillfully carving wood into buttons shaped like leaves, while Flora embroidered a shirt with delicate stitches.
What they were creating was a token of goodwill for Lionel, Dolf, and the soldiers and mercenaries who had been with them since their journey began in the Territory of Kelvim, as well as for the clergy. It was a small wish for the safety of their companions, inspired by Barbara’s idea. She had said it was a sharing of blessings, so both the buttons and the embroidery mimicked the Ivy Pattern.
Having been ordered to remain in the carriage for a while, they had completed all the preparations for their descent down the Ureri River. Thus, they spent their free time engaged in this humble act of wishing for the well-being of their newfound friends, hoping that they would all remain safe in the days to come.
Gilbert blew gently on the Ivy-shaped button he had finished smoothing, sending wood shavings flying. He ran his fingers over it to confirm its shape before placing it in a vessel on the floor and looking up. His gaze fell upon Flora’s profile, illuminated by a soft smile as she focused intently on her work. Each time the pale green embroidery thread moved back and forth from her needle, vibrant Ivy leaves took form on the fabric.
He thought it would make her uneasy to be watched so closely, yet he couldn’t tear his eyes away. In this quiet moment, where they both crafted something tangible while thinking of someone else, he felt an overwhelming sense of happiness. Despite the tense and precarious situation surrounding them, this peaceful and fulfilling moment felt undeniably real. The contentment in his heart gave him a calm certainty that he could face any horrors that lay ahead.
“These are wonderful! I bet everyone will be overjoyed!” Barbara exclaimed, admiring the finished shirt with a beaming smile.
“Yes! They’re truly lovely, so I plan to make one for Mr. Gilbert as well as for myself!” Flora replied, her face lighting up with a faint blush as she looked up from her work.
Seeing Flora’s joyful expression made Gilbert’s face heat up, and he instinctively covered half of it with his hand. He glanced around nervously, but his gaze always found its way back to Flora.
—Damn… she’s adorable. I want to keep looking at her…
He couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking during such a perilous time, yet the emotions bubbling within him were beyond his control. He wished that this serene moment of focused craftsmanship could last forever, just as he wished for the tranquility of silence to continue.
And then—Gilbert’s current dilemma, compounded by his inexperience in dealing with women, was how to mask his desire to take a step further. He tightly gripped the unfinished gift for Flora hidden in his chest pocket, feeling as though he was clutching his very heart. If it contained only blessings, that would be fine, but he worried that his yearning to get closer and to touch her might mix with those pure feelings, causing him to falter in his work.
—At a time like this, with the country in such turmoil, if I let my mind wander to strange thoughts, the goddess will surely scold me…!?
For now, the words he used to discipline himself were solely those. There were things he needed to do. There were things he wanted to protect. That was why he forced himself to suppress any impure emotions and maintain his composure.
Two days passed as they continued their preparations, and the recovered old knight Clark summoned Gilbert and the others through Lionel. It seemed that Duke Jiemeld had regained consciousness.
“The Duke wishes to meet with the Guide Mage. It is not a matter to be taken lightly,” Lionel conveyed.
Upon receiving the request, they entrusted the protection of the carriage to the mercenaries and proceeded to the audience, which included Lionel and Priest Sidney.
Lying in bed, Duke Jiemeld’s gaze followed Gilbert, Flora, Dolf, and Barbara in turn, tears streaming down his face. He appeared frail, struggling to speak due to his weakened state.
“The Guide Mage has once again set foot in my territory…” he rasped, his voice trembling as if he could say no more.
Old knight Clark, who had served the Duke even in his healthier days, gently stroked his back and continued the conversation.
“Let me speak first. Are you all familiar with the tale of the Holy Sword from the last time?”
“The last time…? You mean the story of the Holy Sword that manifested in the southern small kingdom one hundred eighteen years ago?” Priest Sidney replied.
“Indeed. The subsequent events have mostly faded from public knowledge. According to the records remaining in Jiemeld, about one hundred fifteen years ago, during the time of my great-grandfather and the Duke, our then-independent Jiemeld was besieged by a massive assault of magical beasts, including Undead Beasts, and summoned the Holy Sword and its wielder to our nation,” Clark explained.
“What!? I’ve never heard of this!” Sidney exclaimed in surprise.
“It has not been passed down outside. …Because, unbeknownst to us, we ended up killing the Guide Mage who accompanied the wielder of the Holy Sword,” Clark continued, his voice heavy with regret.
A collective gasp echoed in the room, the air thick with tension. Duke Jiemeld raised his head, and Clark continued his narration.
“According to the records, the power of the Holy Sword vanished in an instant, leaving Jiemeld in dire straits. We received support from our neighboring country—now known as Gilgrad—and after ten years of struggle, we managed to defeat the beasts. However, many lives were lost, and enormous debts remained, leaving the country unable to sustain itself. This was the truth that forced us to accept annexation by this country.”
Duke Jiemeld, frail and worn by illness, struggled to sit up, gazing into the distance as he reflected on the past.