EPISODE 32: A Temporary Stay

"I only hope... that if I become Queen, you will be the one who becomes my King."

The words had simply slipped from Elara's lips beneath the reflection of the full moon. But a full second after that declaration — which amounted to an indirect marriage proposal — the Crown Princess of Koreson's rational mind came rushing back online. Her face went crimson from chin to ear tips in an instant. Without waiting for any response or reaction from Zenoda, Elara immediately spun around and ran at full speed back toward the village hall lodging, leaving Zenoda alone at the edge of the spring.

Morning sunlight crept through the gaps in the wooden windows of the second floor of Avaparga's village hall. The chirping of birds and the rhythmic clanging of hammers from the blacksmith's workshop served as natural alarms that woke Zenoda.

The black-haired young man opened his eyes and stared at the wooden ceiling for a moment. For some reason, the very first thing that drifted through his mind this morning was what the snow-haired girl had said the night before.

Zenoda sat up at the edge of his mattress. He rolled his neck until it cracked, then exhaled a very long breath as he turned the words over in his mind.

"Me? Becoming a King in this mortal world?" Zenoda murmured to himself in the empty room. He gave a quiet snort, a sardonic smile forming on his face. "Ha... not a chance. I deliberately stepped down from my throne as King of the Cosmos in Zenith specifically to find this simple, peaceful mortal life. And now some mortal human entity appears out of nowhere and tells me to become a king and manage royal bureaucracy? Hahhhh... that girl must be severely stressed from political pressure."

Dismissing the proposal as the ramblings of an exhausted teenage girl, Zenoda decided not to think about it any further. He picked up his towel, some clean clothes from his pack, and his toiletries, then strolled casually toward the bathroom on the ground floor of the village hall.

After washing himself with the cold, refreshing well water, Zenoda felt completely revived. He put on a clean linen shirt and comfortable cloth trousers, then dried his hair with a small towel draped around his neck.

Zenoda stepped out of the bathroom, intending to head toward the dining area. But barely around the corner in the narrow wooden corridor, he came face-to-face with someone.

Elara Rosecold had just come down the stairs. She was wearing a light-blue casual dress. The moment her sapphire eyes met Zenoda's black ones, the memory of her "proposal disaster" from the night before detonated in the Princess's mind like a cannon shell.

Elara's face went red again immediately — boiled-crab red. Panicked and still overwhelmingly embarrassed, her first instinct was to spin around and escape before Zenoda could say anything.

But in her panic, she forgot to watch where her feet were going — and her step caught the hem of her own dress.

CRASH.

"Ow!"

The elegant Crown Princess of Koreson slammed her forehead squarely into a load-bearing wooden pillar of the village hall. The impact was decisive enough that stars burst across Elara's vision. The world around her spun, and within seconds her body went limp. She crumpled to the wooden floor, unconscious.

Zenoda, standing only two meters away, went completely still. His towel was still draped around his neck. He blinked twice at the slapstick comedy that had just unfolded before him at breakfast hour.

"Hah... I cannot believe this," Zenoda muttered.

With no other reasonable option available to him, Zenoda stepped forward. He crouched, slid one hand beneath Elara's knees and the other behind her back, and with effortless ease, lifted her in the bridal carry position. He carried the unconscious Princess back up the stairs and set her down carefully on her own mattress in her room.

Elara's eyes opened slowly. A throbbing ache pulsed at her forehead. She realized she was lying on her own mattress, and at the side of her bed sat a gentle-faced middle-aged woman — the wife of the Village Headman. The woman was pressing a cold damp cloth to Elara's brow.

"Thank goodness you've come around, Miss," the Headman's wife said with a warm smile.

Elara held her head, trying to piece together what had happened. "A-what happened? Why am I in my room?"

"Master Zenoda carried you here," the woman explained. "He said you accidentally walked into a pillar in the corridor. Are you alright, Miss? Is your vision still blurry?"

At the mention of Zenoda's name — Zenoda, who had carried her — Elara's face reddened again, and she quickly pressed one hand over her face. Absolutely mortifying.

"I-I'm fine... I'm perfectly fine," Elara squeaked.

The Headman's wife patted the back of Elara's hand gently. "Rest if you still feel unwell, Miss. Falling ill or feeling exhausted during a long journey from the capital is nothing new. Your body must have been caught off guard."

Elara shook her head immediately and pushed herself upright. Her noble pride would not allow her to appear weak. "I'm completely fine, Ma'am. Thank you for looking after me."

"Alright then. Call me if you need anything," the Headman's wife said, making her farewell and walking out of the room to return to her work.

Left alone, Elara straightened her clothing and steeled herself to descend the stairs to the village hall's dining area. The ground floor turned out to be remarkably quiet. At the dining table, only a few pieces of wheat bread, some boiled eggs, and warm milk had been set aside for her.

Elara pulled out a chair and ate alone. She chewed her bread in silence. Finding the village unusually still for a group their size, Elara turned and asked the Headman's wife, who was sweeping the floor near the kitchen.

"Ma'am, where has everyone gone?" Elara asked. "It's very quiet."

The Headman's wife paused her sweeping and smiled. "Oh, your group? They all finished breakfast at the crack of dawn. They're all off doing different things, Miss."

She pointed toward the window. "Master Vivaldi and the young man with glasses — Faizura — are checking on the logistics in the caravan. The young noble men and adventurers from your group have gone to the fields to help with the village's physical work. And as for the Hero, Master Zenoda... he's playing with the village children in the courtyard of the old cathedral."

Elara nodded slowly. "I see."

After finishing her breakfast to the last bite, boredom began to set in. She decided to walk outside the village hall and explore the atmosphere of Avaparga — the village that had produced a legend like Zenoda.

On the steps of the village hall, she spotted Master Vivaldi and Faizura busy counting sacks of grain and water supplies. Elara gave them a brief wave, then continued walking along the dusty village road.

As Elara passed rows of wooden houses and small wheat fields, her magically-trained ears suddenly caught the sound of an explosion.

BOOM. WHOOOOSH.

The combined sounds of fire magic and clashing metal came from the direction of an open field near the forest border. Driven by curiosity, Elara quickened her pace.

Arriving at the edge of a sandy training ground, Elara took in a striking sight. The area was apparently used as a combat training camp for local adventurers and village guards. In the middle of the field, Annesia was conducting a live sparring session against several large-bodied village adventurers.

Elara's eyes widened. Annesia's fighting style right now was dramatically different from the typical fire mage who stood at a distance and cast spells.

The reddish-brown-haired girl moved with nimble fluidity. She had transformed the tip of her wooden magic staff into a dense flame shaped into a spear blade. Using the staff martial arts Zenoda had taught her, Annesia moved with considerable speed — though naturally nowhere near Ziryal or Zenoda. She spun her fire spear, deflecting the steel swords of the adventurers, then answered with leg sweeps and blunt fire thrusts.

Crack. One heavily built village adventurer went down after his shoulder met the butt of Annesia's staff. Within minutes, Annesia had incapacitated three opponents simultaneously without causing any serious burns.

Watching from the edge of the field, Elara felt her blood begin to heat. Her competitive instincts as a palace genius mage surged. Since the battle against the mutant King Ape, she hadn't truly tested her limits.

Elara stepped forward, shed her outer coat, and called out across the field.

"Annesia! Let me join!" Elara shouted, drawing her crystal magic staff from beneath her dress.

Annesia, wiping sweat from her brow, turned. A wide, challenging grin formed on her face immediately. "Oho! By all means, Your Highness! Show me what palace magic looks like!"

The training session transformed into a gripping spectacle. This time, the remaining village adventurers formed a temporary alliance with Elara in an attempt to bring Annesia down.

But Annesia — forged in the "hell" of Zenoda's training regimen — was not easily overcome. She read the rigid movement patterns of the village adventurers with ease, evaded, and neutralized them one by one with rapid small fireballs.

"You're all too slow!" Annesia laughed.

Yet the village adventurers' defeats weren't meaningless. By willingly serving as punching bags to buy fractions of a second, they gave Elara just enough time to complete the incantation for a wide-area spell.

The air over the field plummeted through the freezing point instantly.

"Ice Rain!" Elara cried.

Hundreds of sharp ice spears rained down from above, peppering Annesia's position.

Annesia spun her fire spear at high speed above her head, generating a rotating fire barrier that melted the ice rain before it could reach her. Tssssss. Hot steam billowed, obscuring vision. Feeling slightly pressured by the area attack, Annesia recognized that close-range combat wouldn't be effective against a mage of Elara's caliber.

Annesia cancelled the dense fire at her staff tip. She switched her combat mode to long-range artillery.

"Take this, Your Highness! Minor Phoenix Flare!"

Annesia swung her staff. A small-scale Phoenix of fire launched through the steam, shrieking and radiating intense heat aimed at scorching Elara.

Elara refused to concede an inch. She ground her teeth and channeled her pure mana. "Don't underestimate me! Frost Lion!"

Elara released a form-manipulation spell she had only recently mastered. A large lion constructed entirely from solid ice materialized beside her. The ice lion roared and leaped into the air to intercept the Phoenix.

In the middle of the field, Fire Phoenix and Ice Lion collided.

BOOOOOOM!

An explosion of extreme-temperature steam detonated at the center of the training camp. The shockwave pushed both Elara and Annesia backward until they sat down hard on the ground.

White steam covered the field. As the wind slowly carried the mist away, both Annesia and Elara were revealed, breathing hard, their chests rising and falling rapidly. Both of them had burned through tremendous mana reserves with those finishing techniques.

Watching their opponent unable to stand, both of them locked eyes — and burst out laughing simultaneously. The match was declared a draw.

"Hah... hah... What a fight, Your Highness," Annesia praised her, giving a thumbs-up from the sandy ground. "That ice lion hit incredibly hard!"

Elara wiped sweat from her brow and returned a sincere smile. "You have extraordinary evasion techniques too, Annesia. Your fire magic is remarkably efficient. Alright then... I'm going to walk around a bit more to cool down."

"Sounds good. I still want to practice a few more staff techniques. Take care out there, Your Highness!" Annesia answered.

"Will do!"

After satisfying her need to release physical tension, Elara tidied her clothing and began walking further south along the village.

Before long, her steps brought her to a cool, tree-shaded area. There stood a small cathedral made of old but very clean and well-maintained brick.

Elara slowed her pace. Through the trees, in the cathedral courtyard sheltered by a large fig tree, she could make out a very familiar silhouette. Zenoda was sitting relaxed in a long wooden bench, surrounded by more than a dozen village children. He appeared to be creating small water bubbles with his magic, making the children squeal with delight as they chased the floating spheres.

Watching Zenoda's warmly smiling face, the mortifying memory of the pillar incident that morning came flooding back. A fresh wave of embarrassment crashed into Elara's chest.

Without fully realizing what she was doing, Elara quickly changed direction and slipped through the cathedral's wooden door to hide — specifically to avoid being seen by Zenoda.

Inside the cool sacred building, she was greeted by an equally heartwarming scene.

Along the cathedral's long wooden pews, Linaya was seated surrounded by several visibly ill and exhausted villagers. Her white clothing radiated a soft, steady Holy Light glow. The healer girl had her hand pressed to the brow of an elderly man who had been coughing, and as she held it there, the color slowly returned to his face.

Elara walked closer quietly, not wanting to interrupt, and greeted in a lowered voice.

"Hello, Linaya."

Linaya turned, dabbed a little sweat from her brow, and smiled warmly. "Oh, hello, Princess Elara."

"You don't need to be so formal when it's just the two of us," Elara said in a friendly tone, sitting down on an empty pew across from Linaya. "So... what are you doing right now? Isn't this supposed to be rest time?"

"I'm doing some routine checkups for the villagers who helped me back when I stayed here, and treating a few mild ailments that the local healer couldn't fully address," Linaya answered gently. Then she looked at Elara with bright eyes. "Oh, that's right, Your Highness."

"Hmm?"

"Could I ask for a small magical favor from you?" Linaya requested.

Elara was slightly surprised. A highly skilled healer was asking for her help? "Of course. What is it?"

Linaya pointed toward two large empty wooden barrels in the corner of the cathedral. "Could you create a few dense blocks of ice in those barrels?"

For Elara, ice element genius of the palace, the request was no more demanding than snapping her fingers. "That's very easy."

Elara produced her crystal staff. Rather than making small ice chunks, she channeled her mana directly. CRACK. Within seconds, she created two solid ice blocks of enormous size — each approximately the diameter of a building column — and placed them precisely inside the two barrels. Cool air immediately diffused throughout the cathedral.

Linaya's eyes lit up brightly. "Wow! This is more than enough! Thank you so much, Your Highness!"

Elara tucked her staff away. "What do you need that much ice for, exactly?"

Linaya smiled while sorting through some cloth bandages. "Because I have two large blocks... the first one I'll break into small pieces for compresses to bring down the fevers of patients who are resting right now. And for the second block..." Linaya pointed out the window toward the playing children, "...I'm going to ask the ladies in the kitchen to shave it down and make simple sweet ice cream for the village children out there, so they have something to look forward to."

Hearing an explanation so simple yet so wholly sincere, Elara fell completely still.

(This girl...) Elara thought, looking at Linaya with profound respect. (What an extraordinary Saint. Even though she must already be quite exhausted from treating so many patients alone since morning, she's still thinking about other people's happiness — even thinking about a snack for the small children. It's no wonder Zenoda values his students so deeply.)

Elara smiled softly, feeling she had just received a genuine, wordless lesson in what it truly means to serve the people.

"Thank you very much for the help with the ice, Your Highness," Linaya said once more, bowing politely.

"Of course, anytime, Linaya," Elara replied with genuine warmth. "I'll head out front then."

Armed with the quiet peace she had just found inside, Elara stepped back out of the cathedral.

But the moment she came through the great wooden door, she was face-to-face with reality again. Beneath the fig tree, Zenoda was still seated and leaning back in the bench — now having the front sections of his hair braided by two small girls.

Exhaling slowly and fighting down what remained of her embarrassment, Elara forced her feet to walk toward the young man. She tried to move as slowly and casually as possible so as not to look nervous.

But when the distance between them had narrowed to five meters, Zenoda — who had been facing forward — suddenly spoke without turning around.

"Well... what is it, Your Highness?" Zenoda said flatly.

Elara flinched, her feet stopping. "Ehhhh?! Since when did you know I was behind you?"

Zenoda finally tilted his head slightly, looking at Elara with half-closed eyes and a thoroughly aggravating tone. "Well... your aura of arrogance is so large and dazzling that everyone within a kilometer radius can see you perfectly clearly."

Elara ground her teeth, suppressing her irritation at the sarcasm. "Oh. Is that so. It sounds like that mouth of yours needs to be frozen shut."

Before their exchange could escalate further, Yuima — who had been holding a bouquet of small flowers — came running toward Elara and grabbed her hand with vigorous enthusiasm.

"Pretty Princess Sister! Come sit here!" Yuima cried, pulling Elara toward the long wooden bench.

And unfortunately for Elara, the only open space on the bench was directly to Zenoda's right. A mere handspan away from him.

"E-eh? N-no, Yuima, I can just stand—" Elara tried to resist, her face shifting back toward panic.

But the other children immediately swarmed her, tugging at her dress with expressions so helplessly pleading that no human being in any civilization could refuse them. "Sit down, Sister! The Hero is going to tell a story!"

Overpowered by the absolute forces of "the small child army," Elara finally surrendered. She sat down stiffly beside Zenoda. Her heart was pounding. She felt acutely awkward. Her eyes kept finding the tips of her own shoes.

Beside her, Zenoda was completely unaffected by the awkwardness. He continued creating small water dragon figures with his magic and chatting with the children about fictional adventures, making the children gasp and cheer in awe.

Sensing that the increasingly painful silence on her end couldn't be allowed to continue until she quietly expired from social embarrassment, Elara made the effort to gather her courage and start a conversation.

"Ehhhh... Zenoda," Elara called quietly.

"?????" Zenoda stopped his water dragon magic and turned toward Elara with one eyebrow lifted, waiting for the rest of the sentence.

Hearing Elara speak and seeing their idol go still, the children — who had been loud and laughing up to that moment — immediately went completely quiet. They sat perfectly behaved, watching with their full attention as though they were at a theater performance.

Finding herself with an audience of a dozen small children, Elara cleared her throat to cover her nervousness. She glanced around the cathedral courtyard.

"I've been looking around and I can't find them — where are Karham, Ziryal, and the others?" Elara asked, selecting a safe topic.

Zenoda didn't answer in words. He simply raised his right hand and pointed with his thumb toward a broad rice paddy field stretching below the hillside, not far from the cathedral.

Elara followed the direction of Zenoda's thumb, squinting to see more clearly.

In the middle of that muddy field, something extremely unusual was happening.

Karham and Agru — the two individuals with the most terrifying musculature in the entire group — were shirtless, each carrying stacked grain sacks weighing several hundred kilograms on both shoulders, hauling them to the village granary at marathon speed.

And in the section of the paddy field that hadn't yet been tilled, the sight was considerably more tragic. Because the village lacked ploughing oxen... Ziryal the Shadow, Cedric the Thunder Noble, and Valerius the Fire Heir had been harnessed with the ropes of the wooden plow attached directly to their own bodies. All three unfortunate young men were dragging the plowing tool through thick, heavy mud, sweating profusely under the blazing sun, while the village farmers offered enthusiastic encouragement from the sidelines.

Watching three nobles and elite royal adventurers being worked as ploughing oxen in a paddy field, Elara's jaw dropped.

"They're..." Elara swallowed. "They're really doing it. Genuinely helping with village work..."

Elara then turned to look sharply at Zenoda, who was sitting very comfortably beneath the cool shade of the fig tree, far from mud and sweat.

"And why exactly are you lounging here?!" Elara demanded in disbelief. "You're the head of the group!"

Zenoda yawned quietly, leaning back in the bench. "The Village Headman has firmly prohibited me from doing any physical work in this village."

"What do you mean?" Elara frowned.

It was not Zenoda who answered, but Yuima, who was sitting in Zenoda's lap.

"It's because Father says that if the Hero helps with the work... all the plowing and harvesting for the entire village would finish in about five minutes!" Yuima explained with cheerful innocence. "And on top of that, the villagers all agreed they don't want to make the Hero work during his vacation."

Hearing the extremely excessive praise emerging from the mouth of a small, entirely sincere child, Zenoda gave a quiet snort and added a sarcastic commentary.

"Well... by forbidding me from helping, your father ended up inconveniencing and torturing my friends in that mud instead," Zenoda said, eyes resting on Cedric with an expression that was ostensibly sympathetic but leaned considerably more toward mocking, as the young noble executed a spectacular face-plant into the paddy mud.

Elara stifled a laugh at the misfortune of her noble companions below. She looked back at Zenoda's profile — he looked genuinely, completely relaxed. A gentle breeze lifted the young man's black hair.

"Hmmmmm... So you're the absolute pride of this village, aren't you," Elara teased in a soft tone.

"Not really," Zenoda deflected quickly.

He went quiet for a moment. His eyes drifted over the expanse of green paddies, the children's laughter, the clean blue sky empty of political intrigue.

For just a moment, a thin smile — a smile that was genuinely free from any burden — appeared on his face.

"I just... really love a peaceful atmosphere like this," Zenoda admitted quietly, his voice mixing with the sound of the breeze. "Here, no one is thinking about mutation poison, no politics, no nobles working to bring each other down. Sometimes I feel far more comfortable and alive in a setting like this than I ever do behind the cold walls of the capital."

Hearing that rare honest admission, Elara's eyes softened. She understood the feeling of being caged by the same kind of thing.

"Ohhhh... So all the luxury and power back in Koreson isn't that enjoyable for you, is it," Elara teased, nudging Zenoda's arm lightly with her shoulder.

Zenoda glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "I can't say. What I can say is that dealing with the royal family consistently invites headaches."

Feeling subtly dismissed and lightly mocked, Elara's mischievous side surfaced unexpectedly. She smiled with quiet devious intent. Silently, without a single word of incantation, she focused mana at her fingertip.

Ting. She created one small, extremely sharp ice shard. With a swift motion, Elara slipped the freezing sliver directly down the back of Zenoda's collar.

"Ahk!" Zenoda lurched in genuine surprise as the frozen object slid down his back. The sudden cold sensation made his eyes go wide.

Elara burst out laughing at the sight of an expression of surprise on a face that was usually perfectly unreadable. "Hahahaha! How does that feel, Mr. Perpetually-Calm?!"

Feeling mildly affronted that his dignity as a former god had been violated by a mortal ice chip, Zenoda rolled his eyes. He chose not to use physical strength — instead retaliating with the exact same brand of mischief.

Zenoda snapped his fingers toward the small spring pool nearby. Splat. A ball of water arced through the air and struck Elara squarely in the face. Water soaked her fringe and cheeks.

"Kyahhhh! Hey! That water is cold!" Elara shrieked, wiping her dripping face. "How dare you splash the future Queen?!"

"A Queen who drops ice down her subject's back deserves to have pond water thrown at her," Zenoda returned with a completely innocent face.

Elara puffed her cheeks indignantly. She conjured a handful of snow and threw it at Zenoda's face. Zenoda answered with another finger-flick of water. The exchange of petty retaliatory ice and water attacks continued across the bench, both of them laughing, arguing, and retaliating like two completely ordinary teenagers who had forgotten every ounce of status and destiny they carried.

Until suddenly — a single innocent voice shattered their fun.

"Woahhhh... look!" Yuima cried out, pointing at the two of them with one small index finger. "They're having a married couple's quarrel!"

Silence.

The water-throwing stopped instantly. Zenoda and Elara froze.

At Yuima's declaration, the dozen village children who had been enthusiastically watching the whole time scattered outward and immediately surrounded the bench, jumping up and down while clapping their hands and chanting the same phrase repeatedly.

"Married couple fighting! Married couple fighting! The Hero and the Princess are going to get married!" the children sang in the most mercilessly innocent chorus imaginable.

At the sound of that devastating chant, Elara's face transformed to the color of a fully ripe tomato — neck included. Imaginary steam seemed to rise from the top of her head. Her dignity, her sanity, and the last remnants of her emotional defenses shattered into powder.

"N-NOOOOO! THAT IS NOT WHAT THIS IIISSS!" Elara shrieked in a full panic.

Unable to withstand the level of humiliation that had now surpassed all conceivable limits, Elara covered her face with both hands, shot up from the bench, and bolted from the cathedral courtyard at the speed of light. She ran back toward the village hall lodging as though her life were being chased by a werewolf.

Meanwhile, Zenoda — left behind, damp, and slightly dazed on the bench — could only press one hand over his face and exhale a long, suffering sigh. The village children were genuinely more dangerous than a mutant King Ape.

And so that was the rhythm their days fell into across the full week of rest at Avaparga Village. A rural peace filled with hard physical work in the paddies in the mornings, combat training in the afternoons, and of course — Elara, who with every passing day found ways to see less and less of Zenoda directly, because she was still far too embarrassed to look the young man in the face after the "married couple" incident at the cathedral.

A week of rest that became their last reservoir of tranquility — before they would set out for Kaigan, board their ship, and sail toward the shadow of death waiting on the Southern Continent.

(Thanks for reading! If you want to support the story and read up to 10 chapters ahead, check out the https://www.patreon.com/c/nightpen90. Otherwise, see you on Wednesday!)