Since the Month of Revival ended, the weather had grown steadily warmer. The brief spring seemed not to have lingered long over this land before summer gradually drew near—but for those living in the Sorin Region, the changing of seasons had become an increasingly indistinct concept. The immense vitality radiated by the giant tree and the magic field blanketing the entire plain kept out the cold winds from beyond. Beneath the giant tree's canopy, warm spring and high summer existed in an almost eternal cycle.
South of Thorinburg, Margarita, who also served as the regional governor and commander of the construction corps, was personally overseeing the loading of a special batch of supplies onto a convoy. She and her attendants stood beside the loading area, watching lifting machines with long booms hoist two- to three-meter-tall tubular containers from the stacks and gently place them onto large transport vehicles nearby. Loaders then stepped forward with practiced coordination, using clasps, safety ropes, and tarpaulins to secure the silver-gray "cans" firmly in the middle of the truck beds.
The convoy's manager stood not far from her. This sturdy, middle-aged man with a large beard was gazing up at the enormous canopy that blotted out the sky. Only after a long while did he lower his eyes, his voice filled with wonder. "The trees in some parts of the Holy Spirit Plain have only just begun to flourish, while here, it feels as if it's summer forever."
"It was actually a little cooler some days ago, but as you said, once you've lived here long enough, you almost forget the seasons change outside," Margarita said with a smile. "Lady Beltira once considered adjusting the Sorin Region's climate to follow the outside seasons, but the druids assessed the ecology of the entire region. They believed