As the carriage rolled steadily along the rugged countryside bumpy road, the lulling rhythm of the horse's hooves against the ground almost made the journey bearable. Almost. Through the window, the landscape was a painting in motion, vivid green meadows stretched out like a boundless sea, dotted with wildflowers that swayed gently in the breeze. The girl, draped in a simple but elegant travel dress, gazed out with an air of detachment, her mind clearly miles away from the scenery.

  Her yawn was subtle, but not subtle enough to escape the notice of the man seated beside her. A tall figure with graying chestnut hair and eyes that seemed to hold centuries of stories, glanced at her with a knowing smile. "Bored?" he inquired, his voice a deep, soothing timbre.

  The girl shook her head, a half-hearted attempt to deny the obvious.

  The man chuckled softly, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement. "I wouldn't blame you for being bored. We've been on the road for three days now."

  "Is it far away still?" she asked, her voice carrying a mix of curiosity and weariness.

  He grimaced slightly before shaking his head. "We're still halfway through. Another three days ahead of us," he admitted.

  Forgetting her usual reserve, the girl sighed deeply, her disappointment unmasked. The man's amusement deepened. "There's a little town ahead," he suggested. "How about we stop and rest there for about half a day?"

  "Really? We can do that?" Her eyes widened with a spark of interest.

  He nodded. "We still have some days ahead of us, before our ride across the ocean is due, so half a day won't affect our schedule much. If anything, it'll just mean we'll spend perhaps just a day in that city."

  "Let's do this!" the girl exclaimed, a rare smile breaking through her reserved facade.

  She turned back to the window, her gaze now animated as she watched the landscape shift. As they passed over a small bridge that arched gracefully over a babbling creek, her curiosity resurfaced. "Charle, have you ever seen the sea?" she asked, turning her blue eyes toward him.

  "The sea, my Lady?"

  She nodded eagerly. "Mm, yes, I have."

  Her eyes lit up, and she leaned closer, her voice a mix of wonder and excitement. "What's it like? Is it truly as salty as Mother and Grandmother said? Have you tasted it?"

  Coming from a kingdom that didn't borders the ocean, seas and oceans were just mysterious concepts for the young lady that she was.

  Charle's smile grew tender, and he leaned back, readying himself to recount tales of the vast, mysterious ocean. "Oh, the sea is like nothing else. Yes, it is salty, like tears but vast like the sky at night. And yes, I've tasted it, more times than I'd care to admit when waves have crashed over the shores."

  The girl's enthusiasm was infectious, and as Charle began to describe the ocean's colossal waves and the taste of salt that lingered on the lips after a storm, the journey ahead seemed momentarily lighter. They were no longer just traversing roads; they were sharing memories and dreams, bridging the gap between what was and what could be, one story at a time.

  As the duo were lost in conversation, the carriage suddenly jolted to a stop, snapping them back to the present. Charle's brows furrowed, a mix of concern, annoyance and curiosity crossing his face as he leaned forward slightly, trying to discern the reason for their abrupt halt.

  "What's happening?" Charle called out, his voice firm.

  From the driver's bench, one of the coachmen replied, in a voice that sounded shaky, "There's something on the side of the road, sir."

  Charle and the girl exchanged a quick glance, a silent communication passing between them. With a reassuring smile, he said to her, "It'll take but an instant, my lady." Reaching beside him for his sword, he exited the carriage, adding "please wait here," making sure to close the door behind him.

  From outside, the girl could hear Charle's voice again, firmer this time, "What is it?"

  Her curiosity peaked, and she leaned towards the window, attempting to peer outside.

  Unlike the luxurious carriages of her family's fleet, this one was modest, with steel-gridded windows that obstructed a clear view, otherwise she in her curiosity would’ve peered out to see what the communication was about. But here all she could do was listen as Charle's voice faded, being led somewhere ahead.

  Straining her ears, she caught snippets of conversation and the occasional clatter of hooves. She sat back, her initial patience wearing thin as the muffled sounds outside sparked her imagination and curiosity. Despite her attempts to remain calm and seated, the urge to understand what was happening just beyond those steel gridded windows became overwhelming. Finally, giving into her impulse, she reached for her staff which lay beneath her seat and cautiously stepped out of the carriage.

  The cool air hit her face as she approached where Charle and the two coachmen were congregated by the roadside. Charle, upon noticing her, turned sharply, his expression a mix of surprise and concern. "My lady, you shouldn't have left the carriage," he admonished gently as he reached out, pulling her hood over her head to conceal her distinctive platinum blonde hair and elongated ears.

  "What's happening?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she peered around Charle to see what had caught their attention.

  "Nothing my lady, please return to your carriage," he replied hastily, trying to shield her from the sight.

  But it was too late. Her eyes locked onto a small, bloodied form lying by the side of the road, a child. The sight froze her in place for a moment as she processed what she was seeing. Initially, she thought it was a corpse, but then a slight movement from the body corrected her grim assumption.

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  Ignoring Charle's pleas to return, she moved closer to the injured figure. The boy was indeed very young, perhaps ten or eleven years old, with short light brown hair and a chubby-cheeked face even in unconsciousness. His clothes were ragged and stained with mud and blood, his body marked with bruises.

  As she stood over him, her heart swelled with a mix of pity and determination. Despite his pitiful state, there was an undeniable cuteness to his features that tugged at her heart. "He needs our help," she declared firmly, clenching her staff out of which she manifested a white magic circle. However, as she did, Charle gently placed a hand on her shoulder, halting her motion. "It's no use, my Lady," he said solemnly. "Your healing won't help him. I've appraised him, his fatigue levels are through the roof, but his HP is full. He has a HP-recovering skill called 'Vital Surge.'"

  Listening to Charle's explanation, she lowered her staff, her expression softening with understanding. "So, he is..." she trailed off, not needing to finish her question.

  "A Verdenkind, my Lady," Charle confirmed.

  Looking down at the boy, her eyes, despite Charle’s prognosis, filled with pity as she took in his injured form. Before she could voice her next question, Charle spoke again, his voice tinged with concern. "My Lady, return to the carriage. This could be dangerous. It might be the work of bandits... or worse."

  But she couldn't tear her gaze away from the boy, her resolve unwavering. "What are you going to do with him?" she asked, her voice filled with compassion.

  "We..." Charle began, but she interrupted him, her eyes flashing with determination as she turned to face him and the hesitant coachmen. "We cannot just leave him here. He might not survive if we—" Her words trailed off as she noticed the boy stirring, his head lifting and his onyx-colored eyes met hers. In a weak voice, he mumbled, "Help me."

  ***

  As the night grew darker, the crackling flames of the fire danced and flickered, casting an enchanting glow over the small clearing where they sat. A gentle breeze stirred the leaves of the nearby trees, carrying with it the faint scent of pine and wood smoke.

  Deciding to do something for the boy instead of just leaving him there, they decided to set camp there, the nearest settlement being still at least hours away. Around the fire, they sat in a circle, the boy nestled close to the warmth, his eyes reflecting the flickering flames as he recounted his harrowing tale. "And that's how I ended up stranded on this road," he concluded, his voice trailing off.

  "How horrible," she exclaimed, a surge of indignation rising within her at the thought of people being capable of abandoning a child in such a manner.

  The boy nodded, his expression solemn as he seemed to absorb her reaction.

  Inquisitively, Charle questioned the boy's story, his tone laced with skepticism. "Why did they do that to you? What's the point of bullying a child to death? It doesn't make sense to me. Weren't they just Handlers? Doing that won't do their reputation any good, and I know for a fact those people care for their reputation. So why would they do that?"

  The boy's response was a weary shrug. "Why, huh? I don't know," he admitted softly, his voice tinged with resignation.

  Persistent in his pursuit of understanding, Charle pressed further. "How long have you been out here?"

  The boy appeared to struggle to recall the passing days. "I don't know... it has been days. Sometimes I fell asleep, then woke up later.... I had... I had to eat... things... weird things to survive. Had to drink..." His voice faltered, unable to continue.

  Sensing his distress, she approached him, offering a comforting handkerchief to wipe away his tears. After a moment of effort, he managed to compose himself, his breathing steadying as he accepted the gesture of kindness.

  As they fed him and offered him water, the boy's fatigue began to lift, the weight of his ordeal easing from his shoulders. He no longer looked as miserable as he had in the morning, a faint glimmer of hope returning to his eyes.

  Finally gathering the strength to speak again, the boy turned to her, his voice slightly hoarse. "What day is it?"

  "Today?" she repeated, her brow furrowing in confusion.

  "It's the 78th day of the third moon," Charle responded.

  At Charle's response, she noticed a subtle shift in the boy's expression, a fleeting moment of relief washing over him as he uttered, "I see," his voice carrying a hint of enthusiasm if not, at the very least hope.

  After some moments, Charle approached her with a furrowed brow "What are we going to do with him?" he inquired, his voice laced with apprehension.

  Raising her gaze, she met his gaze, allowing him to see the turmoil of her thoughts reflected in her sky-blue eyes. Disagreeing with her yet-to-be-spoken suggestion, he shook his head adamantly. "No, no, my Lady. Why should we take him with us? We've already wasted half a day for him. He's already suspicious as he is. This will, or at the very least may, bring trouble to us," he reasoned.

  In a hushed voice, she protested, "But we just can’t leave him here."

  Attempting to bring her back to reason, Charle implored, "My lady, please remember why we're on this journey, the oath I've taken, and the promise I've made to escort you safely to that place. I refuse to take in a problem-hazard like him."

  Listening to his words, she understood his concerns, yet she couldn't bring herself to abandon the boy. "He's just a little boy," she interjected, hoping to appeal to his compassion.

  "He's not just a little boy. He's a Verdenkind, and the circumstances surrounding him are suspicious," Charle countered, his tone firm. "We know nothing about him, not even his name. The fact that a child was traveling alone is suspicious in itself."

  While she acknowledged Charle's points, she couldn't agree with the decision to leave the boy behind. Would they be any better than those who abandoned him if they did so?

  Turning her gaze to the boy, who sat seemingly patiently awaiting their decision, she made up her mind. Rising to her feet, she approached him with determination, her heart set on her course of action.

  Standing up, she approached the boy, her voice unwavering. "What's your name?"

  "My name... I'm called Herman."

  Charle, sensing what her decision was, pleaded, "My Lady,please don't."

  Ignoring his plea, she continued, "Well, Herman, we're heading to the same destination as you were."

  Herman's eyes widened with disbelief and gratitude. "You mean..."

  "We're headed for Miriandelle."

  The boy’s topaz eyes widened with what she could tell was hope, so she pressed on. "So, what about you travel with us?"

  Herman's response was prompt. "If you allow me, I would like to."

  For a moment he looked hesitant but eventually said, "I wish I had something to thank you with, but I've been stripped of everything. All I can give now is my gratitude. May I know what to call you?"

  Before she could answer, Charle stepped forward, introducing himself. "I am Alphonse," he said, offering a name that wasn't his own, before doing the same for hers, "And you may refer to her as Aquaflora."

  Though surprised by Charle's choice of names, she understood the necessity of concealment. With a nod, she accepted the alias.

  "Mr Alfonse, Miss Aquaflora," The boy, Herman, offered a deep bow of gratitude, his expression earnest. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice filled with sincerity. "I owe you my life. I will do my best to repay you in the future."

  Charle watched the boy closely, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. In a low voice meant only for her ears, he murmured, "This isn't finished. If he behaves the slightest suspiciously or brings trouble, I'm getting rid of him."

  She couldn't help but feel a shiver run down her spine at Charle's words, wondering what he meant exactly by "getting rid of him." However, she didn't press the matter.

  Returning to his normal tone, Charle—or Alphonse, as he had introduced himself said to her, "now, you should rest, Aquaflora. With the half-day we've lost here, we won't be able to make a stop at the next town. It's best you get rest while you can. The road is still long to the city of Miriandelle."