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The two maid-like mysterious things raising and lowering signal flags at each other—an expression that would make anyone do a double take if overheard.

One was an automaton fashioned like a beautiful girl, with orange hair and a provocative French maid-style outfit. The other was a stone golem, carved from solid rock itself and dressed in a gothic maid uniform.

While we sipped tea and snacked on light refreshments (Colin had no appetite, but Algernon ate in his stead), and played cards with a deck Cestlavie brought out to pass the time, the two “maids” remained locked in a dead-even standoff, endlessly mirroring each other’s flag movements.

Eventually, seemingly having grown tired of it, the golem maid stopped first. She (?) deftly rolled up her red and white flags and tucked them away.

“““W-A-R!!””””
“Yes! I win.”
“Tch. You’re impossible to read—your face is always all soft and fluffy, no matter what hand you’re holding.”
“That was actually kind of fun.”
“…Um, I think something’s happening over there now?”

Prompted by Colin’s words, we turned to see the stone golem closing her belly hatch with a clunk, tucking away her flags. She then beckoned to us with a quick wave and spun around, heading back through the door from whence she came.

““““……”””” We all looked at each other as her footsteps echoed farther away.

Then—

“Hah. Clearly, her retreat means I won.”

Coppelia, having stowed her own flags in the subspace pocket sewn into her apron, gave us a smug thumbs-up, the face of a man who had achieved victory.

“…No, I think she just got tired of the whole pointless back-and-forth. Honestly, I feel like she’s the more rational one here.”

Cestlavie said honestly, munching on a cracker with his tea. Colin nodded vigorously in agreement. Coppelia, on the other hand, was completely unfazed and merely shrugged, as if pitying their ignorance.

“Hmph. Such foolish plebeians—Ignorant, incompetent, uneducated… You clearly can’t grasp the depths of an advanced psychological battle.”
“What part of that flag-waving contest was a ‘psychological battle’? Also, calling us ‘foolish plebeians’ is as redundant as saying ‘painful headache.’”
“Wait… Was that flag-waving actually meant to be literal flag-raising—as in planting narrative flags?”
“So, is the ‘war’ over now?”

As Cestlavie and Colin debated back and forth, Regulus fiddled with the deck, awkwardly imitating a shuffle. By the way, while “war” sounds dangerous, it’s just the name of the card game.

Meanwhile, I had Algernon-chan and Sechs help me clean up our impromptu picnic—gathering cards, folding the sheet laid on the cave floor like a street vendor’s stall, and packing up the dishes.

Really, this should have been a maid’s job, not something a (fake as it is) Shrine Maiden like me should have to do. But Coppelia was off in her own little world, oblivious, lounging smugly. The two boys were just as bad, acting like meal prep and cleanup were obviously “girls’ work.” Regulus probably would’ve helped if I’d asked, but he was so absorbed in flipping cards like a child playing in a sandbox that I couldn’t bring myself to interrupt.

Instead, Algernon and Sechs helped carry the dishes and roll up the sheet with their little paws.

Honestly, the mouse and cat are more considerate than the boys and our “maid”…

It was too depressing to dwell on, so I just kept my emotions flat and used life magic art to wash the dishes mechanically.

“For crying out loud… I guess I have no choice. Since you ignorant, incompetent, unlearned, shortsighted, simple-minded, undersized lower lifeforms clearly know nothing, I, in my infinite wisdom, shall now bestow upon you the true nature of this world.”
“Hey, wait a second!!”
“Guh!”

Cestlavie protested furiously. Colin, clutching his chest, spat up—not blood, but the tea he had just sipped. As they flailed, I quietly finished packing up. As a thank-you, I gave Sechs a bit of boiled chicken, and Algernon-chan a small wedge of cheese (not a bouquet of flowers, alas).

“Victory belongs to the one who strikes first and declares, ‘I won!’ Therefore, my win is absolute! Isn’t that right, Lady Clara?”

Coppelia, ignoring all protests, struck a triumphant pose and demanded my agreement.

But—

“Anyway, now that cleanup’s done, there’s no point in sitting around. Why don’t we follow that golem and head inside?”

There were words a maiden ought never hear, so I chose to ignore them and steer the conversation toward our next steps.

“W-Wait, follow it…? Isn’t this obviously a trap…?”

Colin visibly paled in front of the suspicious door.

“Well, yeah. Probably a trap.”
“Definitely a trap.”
“But a trap doesn’t matter.”
“Speaking of traps, do you remember that sugar-free dessert you bought the other day, Lady Clara? I analyzed it. According to my results, it actually makes you gain weight.”
“Could you not just randomly toss in daily-life complaints?! And maybe mention things like that sooner!?”

In any case, “nothing ventured, nothing gained.” With no way back, we had no choice but to go forward. So, placing the reluctant Colin at the rear, we passed through the door.

♢♦♢♦♢

The Holy City of Thera Maryth sits on a high plateau, yet it is famously humid, often shrouded in mist during the mornings and evenings.

Experts say this is due to two main factors: air currents that cause clouds to drift down as they collide with the sacred Mount Clorinda, and the native flora of the western Ottavia mountain range, which absorb atmospheric moisture and release it through their roots.