The Journey Begins

Three days later, at dawn.

A carriage waited at the fortress gate, its wheels crunching over gravel with a creaking sound.

Higashino Makoto stood beside the carriage, his silver-white armor gleaming softly in the morning light.

Rita had already arranged the luggage and was now standing to one side of the carriage.

Holding a white parasol in her hand, she looked so elegant that it was as though she were strolling through the garden of some noble estate rather than standing at a frontier fortress.

"Lord Higashino, the Baraja family's daughter has arrived," Rita said softly.

Higashino Makoto followed her gaze.

A girl emerged from the barracks some distance away and walked toward them.

She wore a set of paladin light armor that could only barely be called fitting.

It was clearly standard adult equipment. It hung loosely on her, the shoulder guards visibly too large, while the belt had to be wrapped around her waist an extra half turn before it could barely be secured.

If he remembered correctly, she was still a knight squire, wasn't she?

Was she wearing her mother's armor?

Her steps were quick, carrying the urgency of someone in a hurry, as if she did not want anyone to wait because of her.

But what caught Higashino Makoto's attention first were her eyes.

They were upturned eyes with small black pupils.

Faint dark circles hung beneath her eyelids, making her look as though she were glaring at people—

Not fiercely, but with the sense that no matter what she looked at, she was scrutinizing it.

If he had to describe her, she was like a delinquent girl living in some back alley who might pull out a dagger at any moment.

Nia walked up to Higashino Makoto and stopped.

She raised her head, looked at him with those "fierce" eyes, and then dropped to one knee.

Her movements were precise, even textbook-perfect, but that precision carried an overly deliberate stiffness.

Like someone unaccustomed to doing this, desperately forcing herself to do it perfectly.

"Lord Higashino."

Her voice was far clearer than Higashino Makoto had expected, with a faint tremble that was hard to detect.

"I am Nia Baraja. My father, Pabel Baraja, instructed me to accompany you to the royal capital... to escort you."

She had some difficulty saying the last two words.

Escort him?

A fifteen- or sixteen-year-old girl, "escorting" a paladin who had wiped out an army of tens of thousands of demihumans with a wave of his hand?

Nia herself found it absurd.

But this was the "task" her father had found for her—or rather, an excuse.

An excuse that would let her travel with that lord.

Higashino Makoto did not expose her.

"Rise."

His tone was as gentle as it had been when he spoke to Orlando and Pabel three days ago.

"We'll be traveling for several days. There's no need to be so formal."

Nia rose to her feet.

Subconsciously, she lifted a hand and touched the hilt of the sword at her waist.

It was a weapon visibly shorter than a standard longsword. The leather around its hilt had been worn smooth and shiny, clearly having been stroked by these hands countless times.

That motion steadied her breathing somewhat.

"What about your luggage?" Higashino Makoto asked.

"Just this."

Nia turned slightly and pointed to a small backpack behind her.

It was stuffed full, yet it was still smaller overall than the leather suitcase in Rita's hand.

"Then get in."

Higashino Makoto boarded the carriage first.

Rita folded away her parasol and stepped aside to let Nia board before her.

Nia hesitated for a moment.

She looked at the elegant woman in a black-and-white maid's uniform, her short golden hair covering her eyes, and felt an indescribable sense of unease well up inside her.

She had seen maids before, but never one like this.

It was not her appearance, but her bearing—the composure and elegance that seemed to seep from her very bones.

"Thank you."

Neya murmured, then stepped onto the footboard and climbed into the carriage.

Her movements were a little clumsy. The skirt of her light armor caught on the step, nearly making her lose her balance.

Rita reached out to steady her, her touch gentle and precise, as though she had calculated exactly where Neya would stumble beforehand.

The inside of the carriage was far more spacious than Neya had imagined.

Padded benches lined both sides, with a fixed low table in the middle. A tea set and a plate of pastries rested atop it.

Thin gauze curtains hung over the windows, and sunlight filtered through them, bathing the carriage interior in a warm golden glow.

Higashino Makoto was already seated on the bench to the left, a book in his hands.

Neya glanced at it and discovered that it was written in a script she had never seen before.

"Sit."

Higashino Makoto said without looking up.

Neya sat opposite him, placed her backpack by her feet, and rested both hands properly on her knees.

The carriage began to move.

The rhythmic sound of wheels rolling over the road drifted into the carriage, mingled with the occasional cries of vendors from the distant market.

The fortress gradually receded, while vast fields and scattered farmhouses began appearing on either side of the road.

The carriage was very quiet—the sort of silence that left one unsure what to say.

Neya's gaze swept around the carriage before finally settling on the plate of pastries.

Delicate little cookies dusted with sugar, arranged in the shape of a flower.

She swallowed, then quickly looked away.

"Eat."

Higashino Makoto's voice came from behind the pages of his book.

"They're not decorations."

Neya's face instantly turned red.

"N-No... this subordinate doesn't need—"

"That is an order."

Neya opened her mouth, but in the end, she said nothing in protest.

She reached out, picked up a cookie, and carefully took a bite.

Sweetness melted across her tongue, carrying a faint milky fragrance.

She blinked.

It was the best cookie she had ever eaten.

"Is it good?"

Higashino Makoto lowered his book and looked at her.

Neya nodded, then shook her head, then nodded again.

She did not even know what she was trying to convey with that gesture. Under the gaze of those calm black eyes, all her ability to think seemed to have gone on strike.

The corners of Higashino Makoto's lips lifted slightly, but he did not press the matter.

He picked up his book again and turned back to the page he had been reading.

Rita produced a silver teapot from somewhere and poured steaming black tea into three cups.

Her movements flowed as smoothly as clouds and water, without making a single unnecessary sound.

Neya stared at the teacup before her, feeling as though she were dreaming.

Three days ago, she had stood atop the city wall and watched with her own eyes as that golden figure descended from the sky, casually turning an army of tens of thousands of demi-humans into dust.

And now, she was sitting in that same person's carriage, with hot tea and pastries before her, heading for the royal capital.

"Neya."

Higashino Makoto's voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Yes!"

"I told you, you don't need to be so nervous."

Higashino Makoto looked at her over the top of his book, his black eyes calm and gentle.

"I don't eat people."