After hours of travel, Elnor's walls rose across a meadow. Vel marveled at the three-story stone fortifications, their red and gold banners fluttering in the breeze. Two streams of traffic flowed through the towering gates—one for common folk, another for merchant carts.
Entering, they were enveloped by the bustling trade bazaar. Stalls surrounded a grand fountain, its waters sparkling in the sunlight. The air was rich with the scents of spices, fresh bread, and leather. They reached a square that branched into three paths, and Mora led them down the right fork toward the Guild building.
While the others waited in a small courtyard outside the Guild, Mora vanished inside. Vel sat on the warm cobblestones, absorbing the scene with a blend of familiarity and wonder.
This is surreal.
Giri's memories overlapped with the present, his original design clashing with the city that had grown beyond it.
Elnor had expanded. The main thoroughfares still followed the same paths he had mapped out, but they were no longer rigid—wider now, shaped by years of foot traffic. The neat, structured grid he had planned had softened, streets bending slightly to accommodate new buildings and bustling markets.
The signs had changed too. Once simple and functional, they were now carved with intricate designs, some gilded, some painted in vibrant colors that caught the light. Many of the old wooden stalls had transformed into full-fledged storefronts, their second floors jutting out slightly over the streets below, giving the city a more lived-in, organic feel.
Above it all, the lord's mansion still stood on its hill, exactly where he had placed it. But even from here, Giri could tell—it wasn't quite the same. The walls were reinforced. Banners, richer and more elaborate, hung from the balconies. More guards patrolled the perimeter.
It wasn't just his Elnor anymore. It had evolved beyond his blueprints. And somehow… it made sense.
What struck Vel most was the visceral reality of it all. The sun warmed his skin, a gentle breeze carried snippets of conversation and market sounds, and the rough road textured beneath him—everything felt startlingly real. Under different circumstances, sitting here would have been peaceful, experiencing the town he had once created as mere data and code. But the weight of Oakhaven's fate pressed heavily on his mind, making this familiar place feel foreign.
Vel shifted on the cobblestones, his gaze moving from the imposing Guild building to the bustling streets of Elnor. Landre sat nearby, hands folded and lips pressed into a thin line, while Von stood off to the side, arms crossed, watching the crowd. Exhaustion weighed heavily on the group, but they remained silent, waiting.
The Guild doors creaked open. Mora emerged, her expression carefully neutral as she approached them.
"We've got some mixed news," she began, her voice steady but tinged with weariness. "The good news is that the Vice Headmaster has agreed to help the survivors. Supplies and temporary can be arranged."
A murmur of relief rippled through those gathered, though Vel noticed Von's brow furrow deeper.
"And the bad news?" Von asked, his tone even but carrying an edge.
Mora let out a measured breath. "Elnor can't accommodate everyone at the moment. We're running low on both space and provisions."
The quiet settled back over them like a heavy blanket. Vel glanced at Landre, whose fingers were now clutching her amulet tightly.
Before anyone could respond, a figure emerged behind Mora, commanding immediate attention. Tall and sharply dressed in a meticulously tailored coat with gold embroidery, he had a silver chain gleaming against his chest, catching the scant sunlight in the courtyard.
Mora turned slightly and gestured toward him. "This is Graham, the Vice Headmaster," she introduced formally.
Graham surveyed the group with an air of composed authority, his eyes briefly meeting each of theirs before resting on Mora again.
"Welcome to Elnor," he began, his voice calm but firm. "I understand the journey here was not without hardship. You have my condolences for what transpired in Oakhaven." His eyes flicked briefly to Vel, lingering for a heartbeat before moving on. "Now, let me explain what must be done."
He clasped his hands behind his back, posture straight as a soldier's.
"I'll need to confer with the lord before we can finalize arrangements. Elnor's stores are already strained… but I'll see what can be done. No one here should bear more than they already have. It is imperative that we handle this through proper channels."
Graham turned to Mora and Bestiel. "You two," he said, nodding, "have completed your tasks. You've safely escorted the survivors to Elnor. Report to the receptionist to log your mission details. Rewards will be handled later."
Bestiel offered a slight bow in acknowledgment, while Mora gave a curt nod.
Graham then shifted his focus back to the group, his tone measured yet commanding. "I will need one of you to accompany me to meet the lord and provide a firsthand account of what occurred in Oakhaven." His gaze settled on Von expectantly.
Von straightened, his arms unfolding as he stepped forward. "I'll go," he stated without hesitation.
Graham nodded approvingly. "Very well. Follow me." Without another word, he turned on his heel and began walking toward the road leading up to the lord's mansion. Von glanced briefly at Vel and Landre before following.
Vel watched them disappear into the bustling streets, feeling an odd mix of relief and unease.
As Mora and Bestiel approached the Guild doors, preparing to step inside, a sudden voice called out from around the corner of the building.
"Mora-san!"
The sound was sharp yet high-pitched, unmistakably that of a child. Everyone froze as a small figure emerged—a young girl about Vel's age with long straight hair cascading down her back. She wore simple clothes that hung loosely on her thin frame, her face flushed as she ran toward them.
She skidded to a stop in front of Mora, her wide eyes shimmering with hope and fear as she looked up at the adventurer.
"Where is Clara-neesan?"
The question hung in the air like an arrow loosed from its bow—direct and piercing. The weight of it made Vel's stomach drop as silence enveloped the courtyard once more.
The girl's voice trembled as she asked again, louder this time, her small hands clenched tightly at her sides.
"Where's Clara-neesan? Did she come back?"
The silence that followed was unbearable. Bestiel shifted uneasily, his fingers brushing the spine of his grimoire as if searching its worn leather for answers. Mora's mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out. Her eyes darted to the ground, betraying the storm of emotions churning behind her otherwise stoic expression.
The girl took a step forward, her gaze darting between the adults who refused to meet her eyes.
"She promised… She promised to visit me yesterday and bring me treats…" Her voice cracked as she spoke, desperation creeping in. "But I couldn't find her anywhere! I went to her inn and the Guild three times! Three times!"
Vel felt his chest tighten as he stood up from where he'd been sitting on the cobblestones. His legs felt like lead as he stepped closer to the scene unfolding before him. He wanted—no, needed—to say something. But what could he say? What should he say? Logic failed him now, leaving only a deep pit of unease gnawing at his thoughts.
He glanced at Mora and Bestiel again. Neither moved to speak, their silence more telling than words ever could be.
Vel's hands curled into fists at his sides as his mind raced for an answer. Lying felt cruel, but telling the truth would shatter something innocent and fragile right in front of him. He hesitated, caught between two impossible choices.
The girl's wide eyes brimmed with tears now as they fixed on Vel, pleading silently for someone—anyone—to tell her where Clara was.
Vel swallowed hard, feeling an unbearable weight settle over him. Someone had to answer. Someone had to break this unbearable silence.
But who would have the courage?
Vel tried to speak but couldn't. The girl trembled before him, gripping her tunic, her tear-filled eyes darting between Mora, Bestiel, and him. Her silence was worse than screaming, crushing his chest with its weight.
Her voice finally broke through, fragile and shaking.
"She's not... coming back... is she?"
The words hung in the air like a jagged shard of glass. Vel's heart clenched painfully at how small and broken her voice sounded. She wasn't demanding answers anymore; she was piecing them together herself. Her innocence and hope chipped away with each passing second.
Her knees buckled slightly as she let out a shuddering breath. And then it came—the first sob escaping her lips like a dam breaking. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she collapsed onto the cobblestones, burying her face in her hands.
"Clara-neesan... you promised!" she wailed, each word laced with raw pain that seemed far too heavy for someone so young to bear. Her cry tore through the quiet courtyard, cutting deeper than any blade ever could.
Vel staggered back a step as if physically struck by her grief. He pressed a hand against his chest instinctively, feeling a tightness that made it hard to breathe. The weight of it was suffocating—not just hers but his own emotions surging forward unbidden.
This feeling... He remembered it too well.
The day he woke up in this unfamiliar world, everything he'd known ripped away from him in an instant. His home, his life's work—gone like smoke on the wind. But worse than losing things was losing people—the realization that everyone he'd ever cared for existed no longer in this reality.
It wasn't fair—not for him and certainly not for this girl who had only wanted Clara to keep her promise. She continued sobbing uncontrollably, letting out every ounce of pain without restraint.
Vel felt his feet moving before his mind could catch up. Each step toward the sobbing girl seemed to echo in the courtyard. He knelt beside her, his hands trembling slightly as they found her shoulders. The fabric of her tunic was damp with tears beneath his fingers.
"I..." His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard before continuing. "I was the last person who saw Clara."
The girl's sobs quieted for a moment as she lifted her tear-streaked face to look at him.
"What I saw was her fighting bravely against the monsters," Vel continued, his voice growing stronger with each word. "She was protecting everyone from danger. Protecting me. She pulled the monsters away so we could escape."
His grip on her shoulders tightened slightly, not enough to hurt but enough to steady them both. "We don't know where she is right now," he admitted, meeting her gaze directly. "But there might still be hope. What you need to do right now is stay strong for her."
The girl's breath hitched as she processed his words. Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks, but something had changed in her eyes – a tiny spark fighting against the darkness of despair.
"Stay... strong?" she whispered, her voice hoarse from crying.
Vel nodded, feeling the weight of his own emotions pressing against his chest. He understood her pain all too well – the crushing feeling of loss, the desperate need to cling to hope, no matter how small.
Vel hesitated, his throat tightening as he gazed at the girl. Her tear-streaked face trembled under the weight of emotions too heavy for her small frame. He adjusted his grip on her shoulders, providing what little stability he could.
"I am Vel," he said gently, his voice low but steady. "What's your name?"
The girl sniffled, rubbing at her reddened eyes with the back of her hand. Her voice was barely a whisper when she answered.
"Celia."
Vel gave a small nod, letting her name settle in his mind. It felt important to anchor this moment somehow, to make it real for both of them.
"Celia," he repeated softly. "I know you're scared right now... and it hurts a lot. But Clara-neesan fought because she cared about you—and everyone else." His gaze didn't waver as he spoke, drawing from an inner strength that surprised even himself. "She wouldn't want you to feel alone like this."
Celia's lower lip quivered as she stared at him, searching for something in his expression—answers, reassurance, hope. Vel wasn't sure if he had any of those to give, but he stayed where he was, unmoving.
Behind them, the adults watched silently. Mora's jaw tightened as if holding back words while Bestiel rested one hand on his grimoire, his other fidgeting idly with its spine. Neither interrupted the fragile connection forming between the two children.
After what felt like an eternity of silence stretching thin over the courtyard like fragile glass, Mora finally found her voice.
"Celia," she began carefully, kneeling slightly so she could meet the girl's eyes directly. "Listen to me—Clara is important to all of us too." Her tone carried both warmth and conviction now. "I promise I'll go out and look for her as soon as I can."
The girl's sniffles slowed as Mora continued speaking.
"There's already another group of adventurers searching for her right now," Mora added firmly. "They're doing everything they can to find Clara and bring her back safely."
Vel glanced toward Celia again just as Bestiel stepped closer with an encouraging smile that softened his otherwise sharp features.
"In the meantime," Bestiel chimed in lightly, gesturing toward Vel and Landre behind him, "why don't you show our new friends around Elnor? You know this place better than anyone else here—it'd be a big help!"
For a moment longer Celia remained quiet; then she wiped at her face again with determination breaking through the lingering sorrow.
"O-okay," she murmured softly before nodding more resolutely.
Mora squeezed Celia's shoulder reassuringly, exchanged a nod with Bestiel, and both headed inside the Guild, its creaking doors closing behind them, leaving the others in the courtyard.
Mari stepped forward, brushing her hands down her apron out of habit. Her gaze softened as it settled on Vel and Landre, then shifted to Celia, who stood with one hand still clutching the hem of her tunic.
"Vel, Landre," Mari said gently but firmly, gesturing toward the girl. "Why don't you go ahead and take Celia along? Spend some time together while we wait for your father to return."
Vel blinked up at his mother, caught slightly off guard by her tone—a mix of quiet insistence and maternal warmth. Landre gave a small nod of understanding before stepping closer to Vel's side. She leaned down slightly toward Celia, offering her a kind smile.
"Celia-chan," Landre began softly, crouching just enough to meet the girl's gaze directly. "Would you like to show us around? I bet there are some really nice places in Elnor that we'd love to see."
Celia hesitated for a moment, her eyes darting between Landre and Vel as though weighing their sincerity. Finally, she sniffled once more and nodded hesitantly.
Vel glanced at his sister, who straightened and reached out her hand toward Celia in invitation. The girl hesitated briefly before tentatively taking it, her small fingers wrapping around Landre's.
"Lead the way," Landre encouraged gently.
Vel followed alongside them as they began walking away from the Guild courtyard. His steps were slow and deliberate; his mind lingered on Celia's earlier cries but now focused on the slight determination in her expression as she led them forward.
Landre kept up a soft conversation with Celia as they moved through Elnor's bustling streets—asking questions about where she liked to play or if she had any favorite spots nearby. The chatter helped fill the silence that might have otherwise been unbearable.
Vel stayed close behind them both, quietly observing every detail of their surroundings while keeping one eye on Celia's movements.
Celia's small hand tightened around Landre's as they moved through the busy streets of Elnor. Her steps were hesitant at first, but with every question Landre asked—about her favorite spots or where she liked to play—the girl seemed to gain a bit more confidence.
She stopped abruptly near a narrow alleyway and pointed toward a modest building tucked away from the main road. Its walls were weathered, and the roof sagged slightly in places, but it held an undeniable warmth despite its humble appearance.
"That's... the orphanage," Celia murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. She glanced at Vel before looking down at her feet. "I stay there... because Clara-neesan is always working. There's no one else to look after me."
Vel's chest tightened at her words, but he kept his expression neutral, nodding slightly. Landre crouched beside Celia, her smile gentle as she spoke.
"It looks like a cozy place," she said softly, her tone filled with warmth that seemed to ease some of the tension in Celia's small frame. "Do you have many friends there?"
Celia nodded faintly but didn't elaborate. Instead, she tugged lightly on Landre's hand, leading them further down the cobblestone path.
As they walked, Celia gestured toward a tall structure visible in the distance. Its roof gleamed faintly under the midday sun, standing out against the skyline of Elnor.
"That's the church," she said quietly, tilting her head toward it. "You can see its roof from here."
Landre straightened up and squinted toward the direction Celia had pointed out. Her eyes lit up slightly as she took in the sight of the church's roof peeking above the other buildings.
"It's beautiful," Landre remarked with genuine admiration. "Thank you for showing us."
Celia offered a small smile before continuing to lead them through Elnor's bustling streets. They eventually reached an open square where several children were gathered, their laughter echoing through the air.
Among them stood a boy with gold-brown hair that caught Vel's attention immediately. His posture was relaxed yet confident as he turned to greet Celia with an easy grin.
"Kein!" Celia called out, releasing Landre's hand and running toward him.
Vel watched as Kein glanced over at them curiously, his gaze lingering on Vel for just a moment longer than necessary before breaking into a friendly smile.
Vel trailed behind Landre, observing Kein with a critical eye. There was something about the boy—his posture, the way he carried himself—that seemed out of place among the other children. Vel couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he filed the thought away for later.
Kein waved at Celia and then looked past her to Vel and Landre, his curiosity evident.
"Who're they?" Kein asked, his tone light but edged with interest.
Celia skidded to a stop in front of him, her face still slightly flushed from running. She gestured back toward Vel and Landre as they approached.
"This is Vel," she said quickly before pointing to Landre. "And that's his sister."
Landre offered a polite smile and inclined her head slightly. Vel stood silently for a moment, then took half a step forward.
"It's nice to meet you," Vel said evenly, keeping his gaze on Kein. His voice carried a calmness that felt out of place for someone his apparent age.
Kein studied him for a moment longer before breaking into another grin.
"Nice to meet you too! I'm Kein," he said cheerfully, sticking out a hand toward Vel.
Vel hesitated briefly before taking it. Kein's grip was firm but not overly so—friendly yet deliberate.
Celia bounced slightly on her heels beside them, clearly eager to keep the conversation going.
"Vel and Landre are new here," she added helpfully. "They came from... uh..."
Her voice faltered as she glanced back at Vel uncertainly. He met her gaze briefly before stepping in to answer.
"Oakhaven," Vel said simply, his tone steady despite the weight of what those words carried now.
Celia's face lit up as she looked between Vel and Kein. Her earlier sorrow seemed to fade further into the background, replaced by a childlike eagerness.
"Vel is nice," she announced with surprising confidence, her voice soft but clear. "I think you two would get along really well."
Kein raised an eyebrow, his grin shifting into something a little more curious as he glanced at Vel again. "Is that so?" he asked lightly, crossing his arms as if sizing him up.
Vel didn't react immediately, keeping his expression neutral. He had learned quickly in this world that words carried weight—especially when spoken too hastily. Instead, he gave a small nod of acknowledgment toward Celia.
"We practice sometimes," Celia said brightly, looking between them with pride. "Kein and I... Clara-neesan shows us how to use a sword when she's not busy!"
That caught Vel's attention. His gaze flickered briefly toward Kein before settling on Celia again.
"You practice swordplay?" he asked carefully, his tone measured despite the curiosity bubbling underneath.
Celia nodded eagerly, hands clasped at her chest. "Uh-huh! Clara-neesan says we need to protect ourselves... just in case." Her voice dropped at the end, worry briefly clouding her expression.
Kein quickly stepped in, clasping Celia's shoulder with an easy smile. "Yeah, but don't let her fool you—she's pretty good for her size," he said teasingly, earning an indignant huff from Celia.
Vel watched their exchange quietly. There was something endearing about the way they interacted—a camaraderie that reminded him of relationships long past.
Before the conversation could delve deeper, Landre placed a gentle hand on Vel's shoulder from behind. He turned slightly to look up at her as she offered him an apologetic smile.
"Vel," she said softly but firmly. "We should head back to the Guild soon."
Celia's face fell slightly at Landre's words but quickly perked back up as she looked between Vel and Kein one last time.
Vel gave a slight nod to Kein, his face remaining calm.
"It was nice meeting you, Kein," he said evenly, before turning toward Celia. "And thank you for showing us around."
Celia blinked up at him, her expression caught between surprise and disappointment. She opened her mouth as if to say something but hesitated.
Landre stepped forward, crouching slightly to meet Celia's gaze. "We'll see you again soon, Celia-chan," she said warmly, brushing a stray strand of hair from the girl's face. "Take care of yourself, okay?"
Celia hesitated for a moment before nodding. Her hand fidgeted with the hem of her tunic as she looked up at Vel one last time. "Okay... bye, Vel," she murmured softly.
Vel gave her a small nod before glancing back at Kein. The boy watched him with an expression that was difficult to read—equal parts curiosity and something else Vel couldn't quite place.
Without another word, Vel turned and started walking back down the cobblestone path with Landre beside him. The noise of Elnor's streets quickly filled the space between them as they moved further away from the square.
Landre glanced down at him after a few steps, her expression thoughtful. "Celia seems like a sweet girl," she remarked softly.
"Do you think Clara will be okay?" she asked suddenly, her voice low enough that only Vel could hear it amidst the bustling crowd.
Vel slowed his steps as Landre's question lingered. He looked up at her, noticing the slight crease in her brow and the tight grip on her strap.
"She's not alone," Vel said quietly, his voice steady despite the weight of the words.
Landre blinked, surprised by his response. Her lips parted slightly, but she said nothing, simply watching him as they walked.
When they reached the Guild courtyard, Vel noticed immediately that something had changed. The space felt busier than before—voices overlapping in hurried conversation, figures moving about with purpose. He spotted Mari standing near the entrance, her apron still on and her hands clasped tightly in front of her.
"Lan-neechan," Vel called softly, tugging at her sleeve to draw her attention toward their mother.
Mari turned as they approached, her expression shifting from relief to something more complicated—an odd mix of hope and concern. She reached out instinctively to place a hand on Vel's shoulder.
"You're back," she said warmly before glancing around as if checking for someone else. "I was worried you might've gotten caught up."
Vel frowned slightly at her tone but didn't press. Instead, he gestured toward the courtyard with a small tilt of his head.
"What's going on?"
Mari exhaled slowly, glancing over her shoulder toward the cluster of people gathered near one corner of the yard. "More survivors," she explained softly. "They made it here from Oakhaven… against all odds."
Relief and unease rippled through Vel's chest. Survivors brought hope but also new challenges. He followed Mari's gaze to the group and counted at least ten new faces—children clinging to older siblings and others with hastily packed bundles.
Landre stepped closer to their mother, her voice hushed yet urgent. "How did they make it past... everything?"
Vel's gaze lingered on the survivors, their torn clothes and dirt-streaked faces betraying their exhaustion. Snippets of murmured conversation hinted at the horrors they had faced on the road from Oakhaven.
"They're lucky," Mari said softly, her voice laced with both relief and sorrow. She stood close to Vel and Landre, her hands still fidgeting nervously. "A merchant found them on the road and brought them here."
Vel glanced up at her, noting the tightness in her jaw. Mari's worry for others was palpable, but it was tempered by a quiet gratitude that these people had somehow survived.
Landre nodded slowly, her brow furrowed as she scanned the crowd. "It's a miracle they made it past… everything."
The low rumble of approaching hooves broke through the murmur of voices. Vel turned toward the sound just as someone nearby called out.
"Look!"
He followed their gaze to see Von striding into view alongside Graham. His father's steps were steady but quick, his sword still strapped to his side. Graham walked beside him, his presence commanding attention even among the gathered crowd.
Behind them came a carriage, its polished wood glinting faintly in the afternoon sun. It moved at an unhurried pace, its driver guiding the horses with practiced ease as they entered the courtyard.
Vel's focus shifted as the carriage came to a stop near the guild entrance. The door opened smoothly, and a figure stepped out—a woman whose presence seemed to draw every eye in the vicinity.
She was tall and slender, her movements graceful yet deliberate. Straight silver hair cascaded down her back, framing her face beneath a delicate black veil that obscured her features just enough to leave an air of mystery. Her elegant black dress hugged her figure without excess, while intricate frills adorned its edges like faint whispers of luxury. A matching headband sat atop her head like a subtle crown.
Vel blinked once, then twice as he processed what he was seeing.
An elf.
The pointed ears peeked through strands of silver hair left no doubt about it. A race he had only ever encountered in concept art and game assets now stood before him in flesh and blood.
For a moment, Giri's mind surfaced within Vel's consciousness, unbidden thoughts rushing forth: Kenji would lose his mind if he saw this.
The woman carried herself with such poise that she seemed untouched by the commotion around her—her movements unhurried yet precise as she stepped forward into The Guild's bustling courtyard.
Curiosity flared within Vel. By human standards, she seemed youthful—perhaps not much older than Landre—but he knew better than to trust appearances with elven race. She could be as old as Mari, or even older.
Her veil shifted slightly as she tilted her head toward Von and Graham in acknowledgment before turning her attention toward those gathered nearby.
Graham stepped forward, his authoritative voice cutting through the murmurs of the crowd. "Everyone, settle down. Allow me to introduce Lady Halen, the lord of Elnor."
The courtyard fell silent as all eyes turned to the elf. Her gaze swept over the group with a measured calm, and she inclined her head slightly in acknowledgment before taking a step forward. The faint clink of her heels against the cobblestone echoed in the stillness.
"Survivors of Oakhaven," Halen began, her voice smooth and unwavering, carrying easily across the gathered crowd. "You have endured much to arrive here. For that alone, you have my respect."
Vel shifted slightly on his feet, watching her intently. There was something magnetic about her presence—a quiet authority that demanded attention without force.
Halen's silver hair caught the afternoon light as she addressed the crowd, her hands clasped with practiced grace.
"Provision will be given to each of you—food, water, and what basic necessities we can spare."
Vel noticed several survivors straighten at her words, hope flickering across their weary faces.
"But understand this," she paused, her gaze sweeping across the gathering. "Elnor itself is not without its burdens. Resources are stretched thin, and each decision weighs heavily on those who serve this city."
A mother pulled her child closer, whispering something Vel couldn't catch. Others shifted uneasily, exchanging worried glances.
"What I cannot offer at this time is permanent shelter."
The words hung heavy in the air. Vel felt the collective tension rise among the survivors.
"Even so," Halen's eyes met those of the gathered crowd directly, "you are not alone. Together, we must endure these trials, and together, we will rise above them."
An elderly man near Vel shook his head, muttering under his breath. A young woman beside him gripped her bundle tighter, knuckles white with anxiety.
"That being said," Halen's voice cut through the growing unease, "temporary arrangements have been made. You may set up tents within the guards' practice area until a more permanent solution can be found."
Mari exhaled softly beside him, relief evident in her posture despite the lack of long-term answers.
Halen's gaze lingered on the group for a moment before she continued. "However," she said pointedly, "I must ask this of you: those who are able-bodied and willing should contribute to Elnor during your stay."
Her words carried weight but lacked harshness—a request rather than a demand.
"Whether as guards, farmers, gatherers—whatever skills you possess—we welcome your efforts. Together, we can ensure not only your survival but also your integration into this community."
Vel watched as heads began to nod hesitantly among the crowd. The tension eased slightly, replaced by tentative hope.
Halen's voice rose again, commanding the crowd's attention. "Now, please follow Graham. He will guide you to the temporary shelter area."
The survivors shuffled forward, sluggish from exhaustion yet motivated by Halen's calm authority. Graham gestured for the group to follow him to the guards' practice area.
Von turned to join the procession, but Halen's voice stopped him mid-step.
"Von," she called, her tone leaving no room for hesitation.
Vel watched as Von paused and turned back, tension flickering in his shoulders—an instinctive wariness settling over him like an old habit.
Halen stepped closer, her movements deliberate. She gestured for Von to approach while the crowd trailed after Graham.
Von glanced at Mari before nodding and striding toward Halen. His gait was steady yet cautious, his expression unreadable as he stood before her.
Vel couldn't hear their exchange. Halen spoke softly, seemingly for Von's ears only. Whatever she said held his father's full attention—his posture stiffened slightly as he listened.
Landre shifted beside Vel, her gaze flickering between their father and Halen with concern. Vel felt the same curiosity and unease but forced himself to remain still.
The conversation was brief. Halen's tone was composed yet firm, while Von responded with short nods or quiet replies. Finally, Halen inclined her head before stepping back.
Von pivoted and returned to the group heading to the practice area. As he passed Vel and Landre, his face revealed nothing of the earlier exchange—his focus was on leading them ahead.
Vel exchanged a glance with Landre but said nothing as they followed Mari into the growing line of survivors led by Graham. The hum of quiet conversation filled the air as they moved through Elnor's bustling streets toward their temporary refuge.
[*]
Two days stretched endlessly in Elnor. The initial chaos had settled into routine, though some survivors stayed bedridden while others found work.
Von stepped up as leader, just as Lady Halen intended when she whispered to him. His newfound authority organizing patrols stirred mixed feelings in me.
Landre split her time between helping refugees and church visits, returning with a brighter smile each time. Perhaps she was on her path to Sainthood—she deserved it.
Mari recovered fully, now working the fields with village women, strangely separate from Landre and Von.
And me—Vel, Giri, whoever am I supposed to be—just a purposeless kid. After years of constant work, this idleness was torture.
I tried playing with Celia and Kein, who were kind enough to include me—especially Celia—but it didn't click. Kein's energy grated on my nerves, and Celia's cheerful chatter reminded me of things I couldn't relate to anymore.
"I need to do something," I muttered under my breath one morning as I watched Von disappear into town for his duties yet again.
Without another thought, I stood and brushed off my trousers. No one was watching me anyway—Von was busy with his patrols, Landre with her church visits, and Mari with the fields. This was my chance.
Elnor spread before me like an uncharted map. The streets hummed with merchants shouting prices and travelers trading news. It was exactly how I'd imagined Aeonalus while designing it—vibrant and alive, full of stories. But where to begin?
The guild crossed my mind for a moment, but I quickly dismissed it. They wouldn't let some random kid waltz inside, even if that kid happened to house the soul of Aeonalus' creator. The thought made me snort softly.
Maybe the market? A stroll through its winding lanes could help clear my head. Taking in the colorful stalls piled high with exotic fruits, shimmering fabrics, and strange trinkets sounded like a nice way to immerse myself in this world for a bit.
Before I could decide, my feet led me to the square where kids usually played. It wasn't large or well-kept—just a patch of dirt surrounded by a few trees and wooden crates. Yet it had its charm—a place of carefree laughter and scraped knees.
But today, there was no laughter.
I stopped short as I noticed Kein standing at the center of the square with two other boys flanking him like loyal guards. In front of them, another kid lay sprawled on the ground, dust clinging to his clothes as he tried to prop himself up on trembling arms.
Kein's voice reached me first—not loud but firm enough to carry across the space. His words were sharp, biting down on whatever resistance the boy might have had left.
I kept walking toward them, careful not to draw attention just yet. My steps stayed steady as I closed the distance inch by inch.
As I got closer, snippets of their conversation began filtering through the air.
"You think you can talk about Celia like that?" Kein's tone brimmed with indignation—a fire that burned too hot for someone his age. "Say it again if you're so brave."
The boy on the ground winced but said nothing, his lips pressing into a thin line.
So this wasn't just aimless bullying—it was retaliation for something involving Celia? That didn't make it any better in my book.
I paused, observing the scene. Kein towered over the boy, fists clenched and trembling—not from fear but barely contained rage. His friends mirrored his stance, eyes flicking between Kein and their target, waiting for a cue.
The kid on the ground couldn't be much older than us. His knuckles were scraped, likely from a fall, and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. He glared at Kein with a defiance that felt more instinctive than deliberate.
"Go on!" Kein barked, stepping closer. The dirt crunched under his foot. "Say it again!"
My stomach churned. This wasn't just kids being kids. Something about Kein's voice—low and simmering—made it clear this wasn't playful roughhousing gone too far.
But what could I do? Intervening might backfire spectacularly. Kein already seemed wary of me lately; stepping in now could push him into outright hostility. Would he see me as a threat? An enemy?
I stayed rooted for a moment longer, torn between stepping forward and keeping my distance. My mind raced through possible outcomes like an algorithm calculating probabilities.
"I didn't mean anything by it," the boy finally croaked out, his voice hoarse but steady enough to carry across the square.
Kein didn't move for a beat, his shoulders stiffening like someone winding a spring too tight.
"Didn't mean anything?" he repeated slowly, almost incredulously. His laugh was short and sharp, devoid of humor. "You don't get to talk about Celia that way and then just brush it off like it's nothing."
Celia… Again with Celia. What exactly had this boy said to spark such fury?
Another step forward from Kein—the boy flinched involuntarily—and my legs moved before I fully decided what to do.
"Kein," I called out firmly but not too loud, hoping my tone would ground him before things escalated further.
His head snapped toward me instantly, eyes narrowing as if he hadn't expected anyone else to be there. His two friends shifted awkwardly behind him but didn't speak.
I stopped a few paces away and crossed my arms in what I hoped looked casual rather than confrontational.
"What's going on?"
Kein's gaze stayed locked on me, his eyes sharp, defiant. His fists still clenched tight at his sides.
"This kid," he spat, gesturing toward the boy on the ground with a jerk of his chin, "was saying stuff about Celia. About her parents."
The boy on the ground flinched slightly at Kein's words but didn't dare meet my eyes.
"What kind of stuff?" I asked, my tone even but firm.
Kein's lip curled like the words tasted bitter in his mouth. "He said they're gone. Dead. Like it was funny or something." His voice dropped lower, colder. "And then… then he said Clara's probably dead too."
The name hit like a punch to the chest—Clara. I kept my expression neutral, though my mind raced to process what he'd just said.
"It's just rumors!" The boy on the ground finally blurted out, his voice shaking as he scrambled to sit upright. Dust clung to his tunic as he raised trembling hands in defense. "I didn't mean anything by it! That's just what people are saying!"
Kein took another step forward, and I instinctively stepped between them before things could spiral further.
"Kein," I said firmly, holding up a hand toward him without looking away from the other boy. "Step back for a second."
For a moment, I wasn't sure if he'd listen. His shoulders stayed tense, jaw tight as though ready to argue—but then he exhaled sharply and took half a step back, though his glare remained fixed on the boy behind me.
I crouched slightly so I was eye-level with the kid on the ground and tilted my head.
"Is that really all you said?"
The boy's eyes darted between me and Kein, panic flashing across his face. His hands gripped the dirt beneath him like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.
"I… I heard it from the Guild," he stammered, voice barely above a whisper. "They were talking about it yesterday. Said it's been two days since she went missing."
Kein shifted behind me, the weight of his anger palpable. I kept my focus on the boy.
"Go on," I prompted, keeping my tone steady but firm.
He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing visibly. "They said… they said there's no point in searching anymore." His words tumbled out in a rush now, as if trying to get it over with. "That later today, they'll call off the search and come back to Elnor."
The air felt heavier somehow. Even without looking, I could feel Kein bristling behind me, his presence like a storm building pressure.
The boy raised his hands defensively again. "I didn't mean anything by it! That's just what I heard! Honest!"
His gaze flickered past me to Kein, and he flinched again at whatever expression he saw there.
I took a deep breath, keeping my voice calm. "Kein, I get why you're upset. But he's just repeating what he heard. He's a kid, like us. He doesn't know any better."
Kein's eyes narrowed at me, his expression darkening further. His fists clenched tighter, and for a moment, I could see the raw frustration bubbling beneath his surface. "You think that makes it okay?" His voice was sharp enough to cut through the air between us.
"No," I replied evenly, standing straight now but not stepping back. "But beating him up isn't going to fix anything. If anything, it just makes things worse."
His glare hardened, jaw tightening as though grinding against invisible chains holding him back. "You don't get it," he muttered through gritted teeth, his gaze flickering to the boy behind me before snapping back to mine. "He's talking about Clara—like she doesn't matter—like Celia doesn't matter!"
"I know they matter," I said firmly, keeping my tone steady despite the heat in his words. "That's why we need to focus on what actually helps them instead of this." I gestured vaguely at the dirt-covered boy still trembling on the ground.
For a second, Kein didn't move—just stared at me like he was trying to figure out whether I was an enemy or an ally.
Then something shifted in his posture—a subtle drop of his shoulders, an almost imperceptible hesitation—but whatever it was disappeared as quickly as it came.
"You think you know everything now?" His voice rose slightly as he stepped closer, invading my space with a presence that felt much larger than his actual frame. "You think you can just tell me what to do? You're not better than me!"
Before I could respond—or even process the sudden escalation—he shoved me hard enough that my feet stumbled back against the uneven ground.
My heart raced as adrenaline surged through me. This wasn't how I'd wanted things to go—not even close—but Kein wasn't giving me much choice now.
"Kein!" My voice came out sharper than intended, trying to regain control of the situation before it spiraled further out of hand.
But Kein didn't stop; if anything, he seemed even angrier now—like my attempt at reasoning had only poured fuel onto an already raging fire.
He stepped forward again, raising one fist slightly as though testing how far he could push this confrontation without crossing some invisible line.
And then—
"Kein! Stop!"
Celia's voice rang out across the square like a bell cutting through foggy silence. Every head turned toward her instantly—including mine and Kein's—as she ran toward us from where she'd been watching nearby.
Her expression was one of panic mixed with determination—a mix so pure it left no room for misinterpretation: she wasn't asking; she was commanding.
Celia's command sliced through the tension like a blade, freezing us in place. Kein's fist hovered mid-air, trembling slightly as if caught between action and retreat. His mouth opened, then closed again, words failing him.
"Celia… I—"
Her eyes were locked on him, sharp and unwavering. She wasn't smiling—not the warm, cheerful smile that usually lit up her face. This was something else entirely. Determination mixed with hurt.
"Kein, what are you doing?" she asked, her voice firm but not harsh.
Kein lowered his fist slowly, his arm dropping to his side like it suddenly weighed a ton. His gaze darted to the boy behind me, then back to Celia. He took a step back but didn't speak right away.
"He… he was saying things," Kein stammered finally, his voice losing its earlier fire. "About you… about Clara-neechan."
Celia flinched at the mention of Clara's name but didn't look away from him.
"That doesn't mean you get to hurt people," she said quietly but with enough steel in her tone to make Kein wince. "Is this what Clara-neechan would want? For you to fight like this?"
Kein opened his mouth again, struggling for an answer. His shoulders hunched as though he were shrinking under her gaze.
"But… this is what Clara-neechan taught us!" he blurted out, his voice cracking slightly as he looked between me and Celia. "She said we have to be strong—to protect the people we care about! Isn't that what I'm doing?"
The words hung heavy in the air for a moment—a desperate plea for validation disguised as defiance.
Celia's words lingered in the air, heavier than any lecture I could have given. I watched Kein's expression twist—a strange mix of guilt, frustration, and something else I couldn't quite place. He shifted uncomfortably, his defiance faltering under her gaze.
"Kein," Celia continued, her tone softening but not losing its firmness. "If you keep doing this… I'll have to tell your mother."
That hit differently. Kein flinched at the mention of his mother, his jaw tightening as his gaze fell to the dirt at his feet. The fire that fueled him moments ago was snuffed out instantly.
It clicked in my mind like a puzzle piece. That visceral reaction—I'd felt it before. In my past, just the thought of disappointing my mother had made me rethink even the most impulsive decisions. Here he was, reacting almost identically.
The connection made my stomach churn slightly—not out of pity or judgment—but because it felt so familiar.
I stepped back slightly, giving Celia space to handle things. It wasn't like I could do much better; her words carried a weight mine didn't seem to have, as if they were tethered to something deeper between them.
Kein's fists loosened at last, his shoulders sagging under some invisible burden. He muttered something under his breath—too quiet for me to catch—but didn't look up.
"Good," Celia said softly but decisively. She stepped closer to him and placed a hand on his arm—not harshly or forcefully but gently enough that he didn't recoil from her touch.
For once, he stayed silent.
Kein shot me a sharp, accusatory glare, as if I were to blame for everything spiraling out of control. He held my gaze for a heartbeat before turning on his heel and storming off, his friends trailing behind like shadows, kicking up little clouds of dust as they disappeared down the path.
Celia let out a breath, her shoulders relaxing slightly as she turned toward me.
"Vel-kun, are you okay?" she asked, her voice soft but steady.
I blinked at her for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah... I'm fine." My hand brushed at the front of my tunic, more out of habit than anything else. "That was... impressive."
Her brows lifted slightly in surprise.
"The way you handled that," I continued, giving her a small smile. "You didn't just stop him—you made him actually think about what he was doing. That's not easy to do."
Celia's expression softened, and a faint blush colored her cheeks as she glanced down at the ground.
"I just... didn't want anyone getting hurt," she murmured.
Before I could say anything else, my attention shifted to the boy still sitting on the ground nearby. His hands trembled slightly as he tried to brush off the dirt clinging to his tunic, his gaze fixed firmly on his knees.
I stepped closer and crouched down in front of him. Reaching out a hand, I offered him some support.
"Here," I said simply.
He hesitated for a moment before taking my hand, allowing me to help him to his feet. Once he was standing again, I dusted off my own hands and straightened up.
"You should be careful about what you say from now on," I told him evenly, keeping my tone calm but firm enough to carry weight. "Even if it's the truth… sometimes words can hurt more than you think. And not everyone will take it well."
The boy nodded quickly, his head bobbing like it was on a string. His face was pale beneath the streaks of dirt smudged across it.
"I… I didn't mean…" he started to stammer but trailed off when he saw me watching him closely.
He fidgeted, brushing dirt from his tunic while stealing quick glances at me, torn between gratitude and flight.
"Th-Thanks," he mumbled finally, voice quiet but genuine. He paused, then added quickly, "My name's Theo."
I nodded. "Nice to meet you, Theo." My tone was light but carried enough weight to let him know I wasn't just brushing him off. "Take care of yourself—and watch what you say next time, alright?"
Theo nodded quickly, glancing between me and Celia before giving an awkward bow and shuffling away. He walked fast but controlled, as if trying to escape without seeming to run.
Celia watched him go silently for a moment before turning back to me, her expression unreadable.
That left just the two of us standing there in the square. I shifted slightly, brushing my hands against my tunic again out of habit rather than necessity. My mind wandered back to what Theo had said earlier—to the Guild rumors about Clara and the search parties giving up.
Should I tell her? The question hung in my mind like a weight, pressing down harder with every second of silence that passed between us.
Celia glanced at me, her head tilted slightly in curiosity. Her eyes, though calm, held a flicker of concern that made my chest tighten. I hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of Theo's words pressing on my tongue.
"Celia," I started, my voice quieter than I intended. I cleared my throat and tried again. "About what Theo said earlier..."
Her expression shifted—just a fraction—but it was enough to tell me she already had some idea of what I was about to bring up. Her hands clasped in front of her, fingers fidgeting slightly with the hem of her sleeve.
"It's just a rumor," she said softly before I could continue. There was something brittle in her voice, like she was trying to convince herself as much as me.
I shook my head lightly. "Maybe, but... he said something about the Guild calling off the search."
Her lips parted slightly, but no sound came out at first. The faintest tremor ran through her shoulders before she straightened them, forcing herself to meet my gaze. "They wouldn't do that," she said firmly, though there was an edge of desperation behind her words. "Not yet. Clara-neechan... she's strong."
I nodded slowly, choosing my next words carefully. "I believe that too," I replied gently. "But if they are considering it—if the search does stop—we need to think about what we'll do next."
Her brows furrowed deeply as her hands tightened into small fists at her sides. For a moment, she looked every bit like someone fighting against a storm within herself—a storm made of fear and hope clashing violently.
"I don't want to give up," Celia murmured finally, almost too quiet for me to hear.
"We won't," I assured her quickly, leaning forward slightly to catch her gaze more directly. "No one here is giving up on Clara-neechan—not you, not me."
She blinked rapidly a few times before nodding once, the motion sharp and determined despite the tears welling in her eyes.
There wasn't much else I could say—not without overstepping or making promises I couldn't keep—but for now, this felt like enough.
I stayed where I was, standing just close enough to feel like I could offer support but not so close that it might seem suffocating. Celia-chan wiped at her eyes quickly, her movements sharp as though trying to erase any evidence of vulnerability.
"Are you sure you're okay?" I asked again, my voice quieter this time.
She nodded quickly, but her gaze avoided mine. "I'm fine," she said softly, though her tone suggested otherwise. Her fingers fidgeted with her sleeve, twisting the fabric in an endless loop.
I searched for comforting words, but nothing came. It was odd—in my past life, I'd had no trouble finding the right things to say to clients and coworkers. Corporate language had been effortless. Here, those polished phrases felt empty.
Now I was just awkward, like a stiff adult failing to connect with a child.
The silence stretched between us uncomfortably long. Celia-chan's focus shifted toward the ground again, her hands still working at her sleeve. I cleared my throat lightly, searching for something—anything—that might break the tension.
Maybe a change of subject would help?
"Celia-chan," I started hesitantly, feeling my own uncertainty creeping into my voice. "What about your parents? Are they… here in Elnor?"
Her fingers stilled immediately. For a moment, she didn't respond—just stood there as though frozen by the question itself. When she finally looked up at me, there was something guarded in her expression.
"My parents…" she began slowly before pausing again. Her voice dropped lower when she continued, almost too quiet to hear. "They're gone."
The weight behind those two words hit harder than I'd expected. Gone could mean a lot of things here—and none of them good.
Her hands fell to her sides now, no longer twisting nervously at her sleeves but instead clenching into small fists once more.
"They… they died," she said finally, each word trembling slightly as it left her lips.
"It was a while ago," Celia said softly, her voice carrying an ache that felt too heavy for someone so young. "Before I could even remember. I was just a baby when it happened."
Her gaze drifted to the side, somewhere distant, as though she were watching the scene play out in her mind. Her hands tightened into fists again, knuckles whitening against the strain.
"There was a raid," she continued, her tone steady but fragile. "Bandits came to our village... Clara-neechan doesn't talk about it much. She says it's not something I need to remember or think about."
I didn't interrupt; I let her words flow at their own pace, each one pulling me deeper into her world.
"But I know it's why she became an adventurer," Celia added after a moment, her voice hardening slightly with conviction. "She said their deaths—our parents'—were what gave her the strength to keep going… to become stronger. To protect what mattered most."
Her lips pressed together into a thin line as she looked down at the dirt beneath her feet.
"She tells me I'm what gives her strength now," Celia murmured, almost as if confessing something private and sacred. "But… it feels the same to me. I want to be strong too—because of Clara-neechan."
The way she said it—it wasn't just admiration; it was resolve. Her small frame carried an unshakable determination that made my chest tighten in a way I couldn't quite describe.
"That's why… whenever Clara-neechan has time…" She hesitated briefly before continuing, her voice gaining a flicker of warmth amidst the sadness. "She teaches me swordplay."
I blinked at her in mild surprise but didn't speak.
"Kein learns too," Celia added quickly, as though wanting to fill any silence that might settle between us. "He's better than me—he's faster and stronger—but Clara-neechan says I have good instincts."
Her fingers unclenched slightly as she glanced back up at me with a faint but earnest smile.
"Someday, I want to be like Clara-neechan," she declared firmly. The vulnerability in her eyes had faded now, replaced by something far more resolute—a spark that refused to be dimmed by fear or doubt.
I nodded slowly, absorbing every word.
The thought of wielding a blade lingered in my thoughts, suspended there like a dormant flame yearning for ignition. This wasn't merely about mastering another ability—it was about necessity. Given recent events, pursuing this path seemed the most sensible course of action.
"Celia-chan," I started carefully, leaning slightly forward to catch her attention. "That sounds… really useful, especially now. Maybe you could show me a few things sometime?"
Her eyes widened in surprise, and she took a small step back as though the suggestion itself caught her off guard. She hesitated, glancing down at her hands before shaking her head lightly.
"I… I don't know if I can," she admitted quietly. "I only know what Clara-neechan taught me. I'm not confident enough to teach anyone else."
Her words carried a note of insecurity that didn't quite match the determination she'd shown moments earlier. But I understood—teaching wasn't easy, especially when you weren't sure of your own abilities.
"That's okay," I said quickly, not wanting her to feel pressured. "Maybe we could figure it out together? Or…"
An idea clicked into place—a more straightforward solution that didn't rely solely on her.
"I could ask my father," I continued, watching her closely for any reaction. "Von's a guard here in Elnor—and back in Oakhaven too. He's got decent sword skills."
Celia's expression shifted slightly as she considered the proposal, her gaze flickering toward me with cautious curiosity.
"Your father…" she murmured, almost to herself. Then she nodded slowly, her lips pressing into a faint but thoughtful line. "That might work."
She didn't seem entirely convinced yet—maybe out of respect for Clara or maybe just uncertainty about how this would play out—but there was no outright refusal either. That was good enough for me.
"We can ask him together," I suggested lightly, offering her a small smile to ease any lingering hesitation.
This time, Celia nodded again with a bit more confidence behind the motion.
"That settles it," I said, straightening up. "Let's go find my dad. He should be at his post."
Celia blinked at me, her expression shifting between uncertainty and a hint of determination. She adjusted her sleeve, grounding herself before nodding.
We walked through Elnor's bustling streets, the air rich with spices and fresh produce from nearby stalls. The merchants' chatter created a constant hum, but it did little to ease our thoughts.
Celia stayed close, her steps light yet purposeful. Her eyes occasionally darted to groups of adventurers or villagers, and I noticed the tension in her shoulders as she tried to project confidence she didn't fully feel.
I glanced at her briefly before turning my attention forward again. "Dad usually patrols near the eastern gate," I said casually, hoping to ease some of the tension between us. "He likes to keep an eye on who comes and goes."
Celia tilted her head in acknowledgment but didn't reply immediately. Her hands fidgeted briefly before she clasped them together, trying to keep still.
As we turned onto a quieter street toward the gate, I spotted Von standing tall with a cluster of guards. His posture was steady, hand resting on his sword hilt as he spoke with a subordinate.
"There he is," I said quietly, motioning toward him with a small tilt of my head.
Von's gaze shifted to me as we neared, his sternness giving way to surprise and relief. He released his grip on his sword and stepped forward.
"Vel!" His voice was warm and booming with surprise and happiness. He quickly closed the distance, scanning me for signs of trouble before his eyes softened. "What are you doing here? And… who's this?"
I hesitated for a moment, glancing at Celia-chan beside me. She shifted nervously under Von's curious gaze, her hands fidgeting slightly at her sides again. I took a small breath to steady myself before answering.
"This is Celia," I said, gesturing toward her lightly. "She's… well, we met here in Elnor."
Von raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking upward into a sly grin that immediately made my stomach twist with dread.
"Only two days away from Oakhaven," he began teasingly, folding his arms across his chest, "and you're already introducing a girl to your old man? You work fast, Vel."
My face heated instantly as the words hit me like an unexpected slap. Beside me, Celia let out a soft gasp of embarrassment, her cheeks flushing a vivid shade of pink that matched the heat rising in mine.
"It's not like that!" I blurted out quickly, my voice louder than intended. "We're just—she's just—" The words tangled themselves into an incoherent mess as I scrambled to explain.
Celia-chan shook her head rapidly beside me, her own voice stumbling over itself in her haste to deflect the teasing. "N-No! It's not… We're not…!"
Von chuckled heartily at our combined flustered reactions, clearly enjoying himself far too much for my liking. He leaned slightly closer toward me with an exaggerated conspiratorial tone.
"Relax," he said lightly, his grin widening even further. "I'm just joking. But seeing you both so red—it's hard not to have a little fun."
I sighed heavily and pressed a hand to my forehead, trying desperately to will the redness away from my cheeks as Celia-chan shifted uncomfortably beside me.
After taking another calming breath, I forced myself to focus and spoke again—this time with more composure.
"Actually," I started carefully, looking up at Von directly now. "We came because… well…"
I hesitated briefly before pushing forward with the question that had been weighing on my mind since earlier.
"Do you think you could teach us about sword fighting? In your free time?"
Von blinked at me once in mild surprise before his expression softened again. His arms unfolded from their crossed position as he regarded me quietly for a moment that felt far longer than it probably was.
When he finally spoke again, there was something proud yet measured in his tone—like someone trying to hide just how pleased they were.
"Swordplay?" he repeated slowly before nodding thoughtfully. "That's not something I expected you'd ask about… but it makes sense now with everything going on."
He paused briefly before continuing with more certainty this time.
"Alright," he said firmly. "If you're serious about learning—and willing to put in the effort—I'll teach you both whenever I can find time."
A flicker of excitement lit up Celia-chan's face despite her earlier embarrassment while relief washed over me at hearing his agreement. Von nodded once more at our shared reactions before adding casually:
"But don't expect it to be easy—it'll take discipline and practice if either of you want to get anywhere near competent."
Celia's voice, soft but steady, broke through the lingering tension.
"I used to learn swordplay with Clara-neechan," she said, her gaze dropping slightly as though she were afraid of what might follow.
The words hit me like a misplaced note in a familiar tune. My stomach tightened as I realized something crucial—something I'd completely forgotten to mention.
"Ah…" I began awkwardly, scratching the back of my head. "I guess I should've told you earlier—Celia-chan is… well, Clara-neechan's younger sister."
Von's face shifted immediately. His usual steady expression cracked ever so slightly, replaced by something harder to read—a mixture of understanding and something else entirely. He turned his full attention to Celia, studying her more closely now.
Celia didn't seem fazed by the change in his demeanor. Instead, she pressed on with a quiet determination that made her seem much older than her years.
"I want to become strong," she said firmly, though there was a tremble in her voice that betrayed the weight behind those words. "Clara-neechan would want me to continue learning… so I want to keep practicing until… until she comes back."
Her hands tightened into fists at her sides again as her eyes shimmered with an unspoken resolve that left no room for doubt. Von exhaled deeply through his nose before nodding once—a slow and deliberate motion that carried an unspoken agreement.
Von's gaze softened as he looked at Celia, the lines of his face easing into something more thoughtful. He took a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling like he was steadying himself.
"It's good to have something to fight for," he said, his voice low but firm, carrying a weight that made both Celia and I straighten instinctively. "To protect someone or something—it makes us stronger."
His words lingered in the air, and I saw the flicker of emotion in his eyes—something deeper, more personal than just an observation. But Von didn't let it stay there too long; instead, he nodded at us both, grounding the moment with a sense of finality.
"Whatever you feel right now," he continued, meeting Celia's determined gaze first and then shifting to mine. "Don't disregard it. Hold onto it."
He straightened up then, his usual commanding presence slipping back into place like a well-worn cloak. "Alright," Von said briskly, with a nod toward me. "I'll see you both later. We'll start when the time is right."
Von headed back to the guards at the gate. His words lingered as Celia and I stood quietly, sharing a look.
As he disappeared into the crowd of guards, Celia and I remained in a delicate silence. She fidgeted, gripping her hands together to stay composed.
"You'll find me at the orphanage," she said quietly, her voice soft but steady. Her gaze lingered on the ground before flicking up to meet mine briefly. "I spend most of my time there when… when I'm not with Clara-neechan."
The way she spoke—careful and deliberate—made it clear how much hope she was holding onto, even if it seemed like a fragile thread. I wanted to say something comforting, but words felt inadequate.
"The search party might come back today," I began carefully, watching her reaction closely. Her eyes widened slightly, though her expression remained guarded. "Or maybe tomorrow."
She nodded faintly, her lips pressing into a thin line as though bracing herself for what could come.
"Maybe we can go to the Guild together then," I continued, keeping my tone light yet sincere. "To ask about Clara-neechan's news. If you don't mind."
Her head tilted slightly, surprise flickering across her face before she gave a small nod.
"I'd like that," she murmured after a moment. There was something vulnerable yet resolute in her voice that made me want to do more—to reassure her in some way beyond just words.
I hesitated briefly before adding softly, "I'm alive thanks to Clara-neechan, after all."
The faintest smile touched her lips then—a small but genuine gesture that carried more weight than anything else she could've said. She looked at me for a moment longer before nodding again.
"Thank you," Celia said simply, her voice barely above a whisper.
We stood there for another heartbeat before I straightened up slightly and gestured toward the bustling street behind us.
"I should get back to the refugee camp," I said gently, not wanting to rush but knowing there were still things that needed tending to on my end.
Celia stepped back lightly, giving me space as she adjusted the hem of her sleeve once more—a nervous habit I'd noticed earlier but chose not to comment on now.
"Alright," she replied softly. "I'll see you tomorrow then?"
I nodded firmly. "Tomorrow."
The camp stood frozen, tents sprawled across the clearing. Villagers moved like weighted shadows while faint voices mixed with tool sounds and rustling trees.
I searched through the crowd until I found Landre at the edge, her back turned, focused on someone in white and gold robes.
Not a priest - too young. His slim frame held a mature calm as he gestured with an open book. Landre absorbed every word like scripture.
I hung back, watching her determination. This was part of her dream to become a Saint. The young acolyte might help her path.
I felt both pride and guilt observing them. Her purpose drove everything while I just struggled to survive.
Though that wasn't quite true anymore.
I quietly returned to our camp section, progress comes gradually. For now, I'd focus on learning to read and write.
I spent the day practicing letters, memorizing words, and working through sentences. Night brought exhaustion but also satisfaction.
Perhaps there was hope after all.