The report came at dawn.
A village two days east had detected unstable mana fluctuations near old ruins. Nothing had emerged yet — but livestock were agitated, and the local ward stones were cracking.
Precautionary deployment.
Small unit.
Investigation.
Klaine was going.
Naturally.
⸻
"You're not."
He said it without looking up from the travel notice.
Arietta blinked.
"I wasn't asking."
"You are not permitted."
She folded her arms.
"If something happens outside and I'm not there, I'll be bored."
"This is not recreational."
"I know."
He looked at her now.
"It may be dangerous."
"I know."
"You are still under suspicion."
"Yes."
"And you insist."
"Yes."
Silence.
She tilted her head slightly.
"This world without you is very dull."
That earned the faintest narrowing of his eyes.
"That is not a strategic argument."
"I don't care."
A pause.
"You will remain within sight of assigned knights."
She smiled immediately.
"Of course."
That was not reassuring.
But he allowed it.
They left before noon.
Twenty knights. Light formation. Efficient movement.
The ride east was quieter than she expected.
Open fields stretched under pale sunlight. Farmers paused mid-work to watch them pass. There was curiosity, not fear.
This world really was peaceful.
Annoyingly so.
By late afternoon, they reached the village.
Small. Clean. Worn wood and uneven stone.
When the knights entered, people gathered quickly — cautious but relieved.
Klaine dismounted and began speaking with the village elder at once. Calm questions. Direct instructions.
Arietta lingered near the well.
A small figure peeked at her from behind stacked water buckets.
Arietta crouched slightly so they were eye level.
The girl hesitated.
"You're not shiny."
Arietta glanced toward the knights in polished armor.
"Tragic, I know."
The girl stepped closer. "Are you important?"
"Debatable."
"You came with them."
"Yes."
"Then you must be."
Arietta hummed thoughtfully. "Sound logic."
The girl studied her carefully.
"You're not scared."
"Should I be?"
"There might be monsters near the forest."
Arietta tilted her head.
"Oh. Those."
The girl leaned in, whispering, "Have you seen one before?"
"Yes."
"Was it big?"
"Very."
"Did you run?"
"No."
Wide eyes.
"Were you brave?"
Arietta considered the question.
"I was present."
The girl seemed satisfied with that answer.
After digging around in her pocket, she pulled out a small, uneven bracelet made of braided string and dull beads.
"For protection," she declared.
Arietta looked at it closely.
Crooked. Tightly knotted in places, loose in others.
No mana within it.
"You made this?"
The girl nodded proudly. "For Papa. But you can use it."
Arietta extended her wrist without hesitation.
The girl tied it carefully, tongue sticking out slightly in concentration.
When finished, she stepped back.
"Now you won't lose."
Arietta glanced toward the distant treeline.
"I'll try not to disappoint you."
The girl beamed and ran off when her mother called her name.
Arietta remained still for a moment, looking down at the bracelet.
The string scratched lightly against her skin.
Real texture.
Real weight.
Klaine approached quietly.
"You've obtained something."
"Protection."
"It contains no mana."
"I'm aware."
"You accepted it anyway."
"She gave what she had."
Around them, villagers helped knights unload equipment. Someone laughed near the carts. A dog barked at a passing horse.
Ordinary sounds.
She looked toward the forest where mages examined the cracked ward stones.
"Where is the Saintess during this?"
"At the capital."
"She only appears after something fully breaks?"
"She responds to confirmed corruption."
Arietta nodded slowly.
"So we handle the early part."
"Yes."
She watched a farmer bring a bucket of water to a knight who thanked him awkwardly.
"In stories, villages are destroyed for tension or saved for glory."
"This is neither."
She rubbed her thumb lightly over one of the beads.
Wind moved through tall grass. Dinner smoke began rising from chimneys.
Life continuing.
"…If this place keeps being this normal," she murmured, "I might start thinking it matters."
"It does."
She glanced at him.
"You say that firmly."
"Because it is true."
She looked back toward the houses.
Children arguing. Someone calling them inside. A door closing.
People living.
For the first time—
The world didn't feel like something she had arrived after.
It felt like something unfolding in front of her.
———————
The ward stones were stabilized before sunset.
Mana settled.
No rupture formed.
The knights remained for the night regardless.
The villagers insisted on sharing food.
It wasn't abundant, but it was generous.
Arietta somehow ended up sitting on the edge of the well.
She hadn't meant to.
But the children found her.
Again.
"You really fought a monster?" the little girl demanded.
"Yes."
"How big?"
She spread her arms wide.
"Bigger than your house."
Gasps.
"That's impossible!"
She leaned forward conspiratorially.
"It had six eyes."
"That's too many!"
"I know. Very inconvenient."
"Did you scream?"
She grinned.
"No. It screamed."
The children burst into disbelieving laughter.
"You're lying!"
"I don't lie about monsters. That's unprofessional."
They didn't know what that meant.
It sounded impressive anyway.
One of the boys thrust a wooden stick at her.
"Show us how you fought it!"
She took it immediately.
"Fine. Watch carefully."
She stood dramatically, spun the stick once — slightly clumsy on purpose — then corrected smoothly.
"If you grip like this," she said, adjusting the boy's hands, "you won't fall over."
He wobbled.
She caught him by the collar before he toppled.
"See? Balance first. Then you look cool."
The children tried copying her stance.
Terrible form.
Wild swings.
She laughed — bright and unrestrained.
"Stop attacking the air like it insulted your ancestors!"
"We'll protect the village!" one boy declared.
"With that form?" she scoffed dramatically. "You'll protect nothing."
They protested loudly.
She crossed her arms.
"Fine. Train properly and maybe I'll consider you my subordinates."
"What's that?"
"Elite defenders."
Their eyes widened again.
"I want to be elite!"
"You can't even stand straight!"
They argued over who stood straighter.
She watched them with exaggerated seriousness.
Then nodded once.
"Hopeless. All of you."
The little girl tugged her sleeve.
"You said you wouldn't lose."
"I won't."
"Even if the monster comes?"
She leaned down until they were eye level.
"If it comes, I'll handle it."
"By yourself?"
She shrugged casually.
"Maybe."
"Are you really that strong?"
She gave them a smug look.
"Obviously."
They stared at her in awe.
Then all started talking at once.
She laughed again.
Clear. Light. Almost careless.
Nearby, villagers observed the scene with amused expressions.
One older woman shook her head.
"She's strange."
"But the children like her," another replied.
Arietta accepted a second bowl of stew without ceremony.
"See?" she told the children, lifting the bowl. "Strength requires proper nourishment."
"That's too much!"
"I fight six-eyed monsters. I need this."
She took an exaggeratedly large bite.
The children erupted into laughter again.
Klaine watched from a measured distance.
This was not the Arietta who stood quietly observing formations.
Not the one who dissected strategy.
Not the one who spoke of narrative shifts with detached curiosity.
She moved easily among them.
Mocking lightly.
Boasting without arrogance.
Laughing without calculation.
The little girl pointed at the bracelet on Arietta's wrist.
"She's wearing it!"
"Of course," Arietta said. "It's clearly powerful."
"It doesn't glow."
"That's because its power is subtle."
The girl nodded very seriously.
Klaine stepped closer.
The children immediately straightened.
Authority had arrived.
Arietta glanced up at him.
"Oh. Commander."
"You appear busy."
"I'm training the next generation."
"With wooden sticks."
"Every legend starts somewhere."
A few of the boys saluted him awkwardly.
He nodded once in acknowledgment.
Arietta nudged one of them lightly.
"Stand straighter. He's judging you."
"I am not," Klaine said.
"You are. Internally."
He did not deny it.
She grinned.
Then laughed again when a dog tried stealing her bread.
She didn't move away when the children crowded her.
Didn't look like an outsider.
Didn't look like a prisoner.
Just—
There.
Present.
Alive in the moment.
Klaine studied her quietly.
"You are different," he said once the children ran off to chase each other.
She looked up at him.
"Am I."
"You are louder."
"Tragic, I know."
"You are… lighter."
She blinked once.
Then shrugged.
"They're entertaining."
"That is not all."
She glanced toward the cluster of children tumbling in the dirt.
"In my world," she said casually, "children were rare."
He looked at her.
"Rare."
"Very."
She didn't elaborate.
Instead, she watched as the little girl scolded a boy twice her size.
"They're valuable," Arietta added softly.
There was no boast in that tone.
Just a simple conclusion.
The lanterns flickered on one by one.
Village noise softened into evening rhythm.
She folded her arms and leaned back slightly against the well.
"If anything dramatic happens here tonight," she said lightly, "I'll be irritated."
"You wished for something interesting earlier."
"I changed my mind."
She watched the children run between houses.
Laughing. Unaware.
"I hope nothing happens here."
This time—
There was no curiosity in her voice.
And Klaine noticed that too.