The next morning, the camp was shrouded in a faint sorrow of parting. Karl and Charlotte stood side by side at the fork in the road.
"I should be going," Karl said, looking toward Carnford in the distance. "I've already been delayed in Fran City for too long. Everyone in Carnford must be waiting anxiously."
Charlotte nodded, her voice carrying a trace of barely perceptible melancholy. "Don't forget your promise."
Karl smiled, his tone solemn. "Of course I won't. It won't be long before I repair the castle—at the very least, I'll clear out an area where people can live. When the time comes, you're welcome to visit Carnford... or stay for good."
He spoke the last two words very softly, but they carried a special meaning.
A faint blush spread across Charlotte's face. She turned away. "Hurry up and go! Be careful on the road!"
In the end, the two of them parted.
Karl led the transport convoy and the newly added team of craftsmen northward, while Charlotte led the cavalry south along the road back to Fran City.
Without Cyril's rabble slowing them down, Karl's group traveled extremely quickly.
Moreover, they were not far from Carnford to begin with. Driving themselves hard, the convoy took only a single day.
By the morning of the second day, Carnford's familiar outline—gradually regaining its vitality—had appeared on the horizon.
The closer they drew to the territory, the more obvious the changes became.
The wasteland at the foot of the mountain, once covered with trees and brush, had now been cleared and turned into broad fields that had already been plowed, their rich soil exuding a fresh earthy fragrance.
Several packhorses were harnessed to crude but sturdy plows, performing the final deep tilling under the farmers' direction.
As Karl rode past the