After the conversation at the Leaf Tower House, the knights resumed their activities as the bright afternoon light slowly faded from the sky, closing a day of great significance for Elisabeth, the knights, and the Elven people themselves.

  As night fell, the knights mingled with the Elves in celebration—feasting, singing, and dancing to the melody of violins, warmed by the glow of bonfires that illuminated every corner of the Elven settlement. With mugs of Butter Beer passed from hand to hand, they immersed themselves in the festivity until the night grew late and they finally returned to their respective quarters.

  As they were about to close their eyes, the three female knights continued chatting softly, exchanging lighthearted jokes.

  “Elisabeth, do you realize how extraordinary your story is?” Lula said.

  “I’ve always wanted to hear it too. To think that you were once a goddess, reborn with such an incredible destiny.”

  “Hehehe… I only just learned about it myself,” Elisabeth replied.

  “Then where is that man, Elisabeth?” Lula asked again.

  “I haven’t heard about him from Lord Ilio yet, but someday, I’m sure I’ll meet him again.”

  “And the most mind-blowing part is that you actually met Lord Ilio.”

  “Yes. That’s extremely rare. I believe your rank is now equal to—or perhaps even higher than—Madam Mad Er.”

  “Perhaps. But speaking of that, I truly miss Madam. Now that I know the truth about my life, I want to thank her for raising and caring for me since childhood,” Elisabeth said softly, reminiscing about Madam Mad Er’s affection.

  “Is the Kingdom of Normandia doing well right now?” Sasa asked.

  “Don’t be foolish. Our kingdom will be fine—there’s no need to worry,” Lula replied.

  “I just want to know how everyone back home is doing. It’s been a long time since we began this mission. I miss my family and my home.”

  The three knights reminisced about the kingdom, their longing for their families and divisions growing ever stronger, until they finally drifted into a deep and peaceful sleep.

  Meanwhile, in the territory of the Kingdom of Normandia, preparations were underway for war against the Kingdom of Sartala—their ancient enemy. War drums echoed across the land as military camps were erected around the southern outskirts of Dargesk City, near the bifurcation of the Lemuria River.

  General Jack Laurensius was seen formulating strategies, assisted by the Fifth Division Commander, Marbeling, along with leaders from each division of Normandia, gathered in a rear encampment where the Hofdingi (Generals) and Foringi Deildar (Division Commanders) coordinated their plans.

  “Are the assault preparations complete, Foringi Deildar One?”

  “Yes, Hofdingi. I have positioned the troops along the front lines, supported by the Sixth Division and their heavy artillery.”

  “Good. Foringi Deildar Two, what about intelligence on Sartala’s troop movements?”

  “Nothing new for now, Hofdingi, but we continue to monitor them closely.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “Do not miss even the smallest piece of information. Deploy the Second Division throughout the borders of Normandia.”

  “Yes, Hofdingi.”

  “Foringi Deildar Arkhamis of the Third Division, station archers in three equal-strength positions: one near the kingdom walls, one along the rear defensive line, and one behind the Seventh and Eighth Divisions for long-range support.”

  “Yes, Hofdingi.”

  “They must not breach our rear defenses. Stake your lives for our victory. Long live Normandia!”

  “Long live Normandia!”

  At the same time, inside the Royal Palace of Normandia, King Maximilian XV was speaking with the High Guardian, Jarl Antonial, while observing the Eleventh Division relocate several ancient manuscripts into the underground vault.

  “The Kingdom of Sartala is surely after these ancient manuscripts,” the king said irritably.

  “They are most likely seeking VORNAHURD as well,” Jarl Antonial replied.

  “Sartala was once part of Normandia, but after the Great War four hundred years ago, the two kingdoms were divided. This is recorded in the ancient manuscripts written by your predecessor, King Maximilian I.”

  “It is also told that the Great War involved the Elves and the Spirits of Death. During that war, the crown prince—Anders Hans Maximilian—fell due to divine intervention.”

  “I can’t imagine how horrifying that war must have been,” the king said.

  “My great-grandfather must have endured unimaginable hardship,” he added.

  “Another manuscript records that after the war, King Maximilian I repeatedly called out his son’s name, until he could no longer bear the burden of the throne. A year later, he abdicated in favor of his second son, Sveg Gorn Maximilian.”

  “Perhaps that war is connected to the Dragon Head upon the royal throne.”

  “Indeed, Your Majesty. It is said that the dragon aided Normandia against traitorous forces allied with the Spirits of Death. That very event led to the pact between Elves and Humans, forbidding territorial violations within the Elven Forest.”

  “War truly is a complicated matter, Jarl,” the king sighed.

  “I always hoped for peaceful rule, yet I never expected war to erupt during my reign.”

  Hearing this, Jarl Antonial spoke firmly.

  “War is inevitable for a great kingdom. During the reigns of King Maximilian VIII and XIII, tensions with Sartala were constant.”

  “Still, the cost of war is terrible—it forces countless people to lose their families.”

  “That is the reality of political dynamics within a kingdom. You are the king, and it is your duty to protect all the people of Normandia.”

  “You’re right, Jarl. The most important thing in war is not who wins, but who survives,” King Maximilian XV concluded, walking toward the palace balcony and gazing at the war camps beyond the city walls.

  Back at the Elven settlement, the other knights slept soundly. Breum, assigned to guard duty, sharpened his axe at the front of the Leaf Tower House. On the second floor, the female knights dreamed peacefully—except for Elisabeth. Having just learned her true origins, she was haunted by a terrifying dream.

  In her dream, Elisabeth stood upon a hilly plain, watching a young man seated on a massive stone, gazing out over the Pisvor Valley. His expression suggested deep contemplation. She watched him for a long time, yet he seemed unaware of her presence.

  Suddenly, the sky split open, forming a massive rift that poured forth dark black light, followed by millions of liters of crimson liquid resembling blood. Then, from the young man’s chest, a radiant light began to shine.

  Elisabeth jolted awake, sitting upright in shock, her heart filled with sorrow for the young man.

  “Poor him… what was he thinking about?”

  “If only I could share stories with him,” she murmured inwardly.

  She looked toward the window and saw that morning had arrived. Activity had begun around the Elven settlement, with several Elves strolling near the Leaf Tower House.

  Quietly descending the wooden stairs, she saw the other knights still asleep. After washing her face and preparing herself, she stepped outside and found Isac Galeon standing in the courtyard.

  “Good morning, Hersir,” Elisabeth greeted.

  “Good morning, Elisabeth,” Isac replied.

  “How are you? Did you sleep well?”

  “Very well, Hersir—but I received another vision last night.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  After hearing her dream, Isac Galeon listened intently before making a decision.

  “It seems we must hasten our search for VORNAHURD today.”

  “Yes, Hersir.”

  They prepared to depart, expressing heartfelt gratitude to the Elves who had welcomed them so warmly. However, the Grand Elder Ulrion requested that Sveana the Healer join the expedition. Delighted to receive a direct mandate from the Grand Elder, Sveana eagerly followed the knights on their quest for VORNAHURD.

  Together, they set out once more, leaving behind the sweet memories they had shared with the Elven people.