On the third day after the war ended, the streets of Hoburns had regained their usual bustle.
No, they were even more bustling than before.
The victorious soldiers returned from the border, the armies of the north and south marching side by side through the capital's main thoroughfare, accepting the citizens' cheers and flowers.
The southern knights whom northern soldiers had once mocked as soft-skinned weaklings now rode proudly on horseback, bandages wrapped around their bodies and scars marking their faces.
The northern veterans who had once looked down on southern soldiers now took the initiative to approach their southern comrades, patting them on the shoulder and offering them wineskins.
Their blood had indeed been shed together.
Higashino Makoto had not attended the victory ceremony.
He did not particularly like such occasions.
A sea of people, jubilant cheers, everyone staring at you with burning eyes as though you were some kind of savior.
Though, in a sense, he truly was.
But he did not need any of that.
So he chose a quiet street, intending to circle back to that half-abandoned fortress from the western side of the capital.
Rita followed behind him, holding a white parasol.
She was not wearing her signature black-and-white maid uniform, but a simple gray long dress instead. Her ash-gold short hair still covered one eye, making her look like an attendant from some noble household rather than the maid of that "paladin who descended from the heavens."
Higashino Makoto wore a dark robe instead of armor, his long black hair casually tied behind his head.
He looked like an ordinary traveler.
Though that excessively handsome face made the word "ordinary" somewhat of a stretch.
On both sides of the street lay the capital's commoner district.
The stone houses were low and tightly packed. A