A Petal Of Memory (2)

Having secured Aidoni’s escort permission from Tsera without a hitch, Kardia said airily, “Well then, shall we go?”

“Go… now?”

“Yes. Best to hurry, I think. We’re due at the palace in a week.”

“Eh?”

Noi’s voice cracked. She wasn’t the only one stunned.

“A—A week?!”

“Even if we beg and jump the queue, I’m not sure that’s enough time…!”

“Why start moving so last-minute?!”

While Ornis and Aidoni gaped, Kardia merely blinked.

“I’ve still got the one that blasted old man forced on me back then, so I can wear that. And hers are children’s clothes—she can just borrow something.”

Children grew in a blink; only the very rich had dresses made just for them, usually at the household matron’s insistence. Kardia had spent his years as a Magic Count without ever acquiring those instincts.

“That won’t do, Master Kardia,” Aidoni said, grave and firm.

“A dress is a woman’s battle garb. If you have decided on a single woman, then you ought to deck her out until there’s not a soul left in doubt.”

Where Kardia had treated Noi like a child, Aidoni addressed her as a woman.

Kardia looked caught off guard, then turned to Noi with a sincerely apologetic face.

“My mistake. Will you forgive me? My dandelion. My bride.”

Noi let out a breath and smiled.

“It can’t be helped. I am magnanim—”

“In that case, to the capital at once!” Aidoni trilled.

“—ous,” Noi finished, her pardon swallowed by Aidoni’s cheer.

“I’ll make preparations—ten minutes, no, five! Please wait right here!”

She took off at a sprint, skirts flying, and vanished down the corridor.

“…She just wants to go herself.”

Ornis muttered. No one present could bring themselves to disagree.

—And so, the royal capital.

Three hours in the carriage provided by the House of the Weavers.

Rocked by the ride, Noi gazed out the window with a pang of nostalgia.

(It’s only been a few months… and yet it already feels nostalgic.)

A hundred years ago, Noi had lived in the mountains near the capital. Roads and streetscapes transform in a century.

But mountains? Surely not in a mere hundred years. Convinced of that, she looked toward the ridge where her old home had been—then stared, speechless.

The upper half of the mountain was gone.

Noticing her silent shock, Kardia leaned toward the seat beside him. “What is it, bride?”

“Th-that… there—”

Noi’s finger shook as she pointed at the mountain she’d once called home. Kardia glanced over and said, like it was nothing, “Ah.”

“It’s caved in.”

So casually that Noi could only gape.

“For someone so learned, this must be your first time seeing that peak. It’s been called Sunrise Mountain since a hundred years ago. When the sun comes up, the light sits perfectly inside that gouged-out bowl.”

“Since… a hundred years ago?”

“That’s right. The spot where the great ‘First-Sun’ mage, Noi Garenee, purified the Demon King.”

Kardia spoke quietly, eyes focused somewhere far beyond the range before them.

Drawn along, Noi too looked solemnly at the mountain.

(…One glance, and anyone would accept it.)

For Kardia—who had stood there that day—the meaning would be deeper still.

The death of Noi Garenee.

(That she survived… and then turned up a hundred years later in a child’s body—no one would even conceive of it.)

Magic made the impossible possible—but it had a flaw.

Magic could only bring forth what its caster could imagine.

What could not be conceived could not be born. A magic circle woven by intent did not assemble itself without one.

That was the nature of magic.

(…Then how did I really get here?)

Just as Noi sank into thought, a delighted cry burst from the front bench.

“It’s En Dima, the tailor!”

Aidoni’s sky-blue eyes shone brighter than ever; her cheeks pinked, her smile sprang up of its own accord. Her face alone told how overjoyed she was.

“Master Kardia, please have the carriage stop! Over there!”

At her call, Kardia rapped the panel to the driver. The reins tightened; the horses drew to the side.

Aidoni alighted as if her feet had sprouted wings—so fast that Ornis, descending first to offer a hand, could only pull a long face.

(So this is how Aidoni gets when it’s clothes.)

Normally composed, she was downright giddy; the sight made Noi smile. Whatever she looked like on the outside, she was far older than Aidoni. Watching the young rejoice was simply heartwarming.

Kardia hopped down first and lifted Noi out after him.

Noi took in the streets with a slow turn—and breathed out a soft “oh.”

(A city I don’t know.)

Bustling lanes, vivid scenes.

From the weavers’ shop, bolts of fabric hung in rows, the handiwork of deft artisans; from the eateries drifted aromas that tugged passersby in one after another.

None of these had been here when Noi had walked these parts.

But the old bookshop remained as it had been since her childhood. Only the proprietor who greeted seekers of lore was a face she did not know.

The changes spelled out the passage of time. The city itself had aged and become something new.

(I truly am a hundred years on.)

Perhaps she hadn’t fully felt it until now.

Seeing the place she was born and raised so transformed at last drove it home—clear to the bottom of her heart.