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The noisy group that had just passed in front of us was professors from the Royal Capital’s university, here for academic research.

Dr. Seiwashi Melchior, Sorcery Workings.
Dr. Morris Balthasar, Structural Geology.
Dr. Nosori Kasbar, Magical Biology.
And Dr. Melchior’s assistant, Joseline Josran.

These three professors and one student made up the academic research team.

Dr. Kasbar was a human, just like the rest of us. Dr. Balthasar, on the other hand, was a dwarf. And then, most surprising of all, Dr. Melchior was a pure-blood elf! I had finally met an elf!

Apparently, there were several different kinds of elves, and the doctor belonged to a group called the Sun Elves. Just like the elves I knew from stories, he had long ears and beautiful blond hair. He looked like a man barely in his twenties, but his real age was seventy-five! Long-lived races were amazing.

Even more interesting, Dr. Balthasar and Dr. Kasbar were the same age as him, and the three of them had all been classmates. Despite looking completely different, they casually called each other Seiwashi, Morris, and Nosori, which I found strangely amusing.

Oh, and their assistant Joseline was a half-elf. She looked about fifteen or sixteen, like a minor, but she was actually twenty-five, a full adult. Apparently, the university had sent her along specifically to look after the three professors.

There was another small group as well. They were supervisory personnel from the Royal Capital’s diplomatic investigation mission. Connor Clarke, the deputy envoy, along with two clerical officers who assisted him. Personally, I wasn’t sure sending office workers into a giant forest was such a great idea… But their job was extremely important. They had to record the progress of the expedition and report it back to the Royal Capital.

Since physical labor wasn’t really their forte, I just hoped they’d be careful and not get hurt.

Then there was the logistics unit, fifteen members led by Maintenance Chief Fred.

Altogether, that meant 22 non-combat personnel, 33 knights, and 3 people from Amukham, including Papa Howard. A total of 55 members were in this investigation expedition to Iroshio.

That said, they wouldn’t always be traveling together in one group. As they advanced into the Great Forest, they planned to establish base camps roughly every ten to fifteen kilometers and rotate personnel.

On this first day, they would depart with an additional ten support members and construct the first base camp at the Hill of Lamentation.

“All units! Prepare to depart!”

In the distance, Knight-Commander Meyers shouted from horseback.

Even at departure time, the sky remained overcast. Thick clouds stretched endlessly overhead, letting not even a single ray of sunlight through. Even the towering Daypahra Mountains to the north were hidden behind the clouds.

At least the air wasn’t humid, so it probably wouldn’t rain.

Still, the sky was sealed by heavy gray clouds, hiding the blue heavens that should have been beyond them.

If you stared long enough at the pale gray patterns drifting overhead, they almost began to look like living creatures. In the eastern sky, there was even one that looked like a curled-up cat.

That reminded me of a male gray cat I had known a long time ago.

It had beautiful gray fur all over its body, with white running from its nose down to its belly. Even its paws were white—like it was wearing little shoes.

Every morning at the same time, it would come to our house and rub its body against the block wall or the iron supports of the balcony. With fearless golden eyes, it would stare straight at me. If I set out a dish, it would walk over. When my grandmother poured milk into it, the cat would immediately start lapping it up. While it drank, it would quietly allow me to pet it. I petted that cat every day. Once it finished the milk, it would wander off again, rubbing itself against the neighbor’s walls and fences.

Grandmother once told me that this was part of its morning patrol. “When a man goes outside,” she had said with a smile while cleaning the milk tray, “he faces seven enemies. It’s hard work.”

Years later, when I was in middle school, the cat suddenly stopped coming. A few months later, one morning as I absent-mindedly held the empty milk dish, my grandmother murmured, “Maybe he won’t come anymore. Boys go on journeys, after all.” Then she added, “Or… maybe it was his time.”

The cat had certainly seemed dignified, like a veteran. Once, I saw it with a terrible wound near its waist, the fur torn away so badly you could see flesh. It looked painful, but the cat didn’t seem to care at all. It simply continued its daily patrol.

“That cat’s the boss around here,” my grandfather had once said. “If you guard a territory long enough, things like that happen.”

The wound eventually healed without a trace. I remember thinking then that the world of cats must be a hard one.

Grandmother later said the cat must have been very old, and that its time had come.

“Cats hide themselves when they sense death coming.”

When I heard that, for some reason, I thought it sounded cool. Dying alone somewhere, where no one could see… It felt lonely, but somehow cool at the same time. I remember feeling strangely moved by the idea, thinking that this was how a man was supposed to go. Looking back now, that was a very middle-school kind of way of thinking.

Years later, when I was in high school, I happened to pass by a house and saw a gray-and-white cat sitting inside by a sliding window.

It looked just like the cat I remembered. But it was slightly smaller, and it didn’t carry the same calm dignity as that old male cat. As I watched it slowly walk deeper into the house, I felt the heavy, sad memories from my past quietly melt away.

I had no proof. But somehow I felt certain that the old cat had belonged to that house.

That it hadn’t died alone somewhere unseen, but had quietly passed away, surrounded by its family. For some reason, I just believed that.

The feeling of coolness I had once admired was gone.

All that remained was relief. And with it, something that had long been stuck in my heart finally dissolved.

For some reason, that memory resurfaced now.

(Why am I remembering that? Why does something keep rising in my throat that I’m struggling to hold back?)

The sky above remained gray. Like a ceiling sealing off the heavens, gray clouds stretched endlessly across the sky.

Beneath those clouds, Papa Howard approached on top of Regulus, wearing his crimson cloak. Regulus carried a saddle and packs fastened near its flanks. Gilbert walked beside the horse, holding the reins while carrying a huge pack on his back. Next to Regulus strode Conrad’s large figure, a massive battle-axe resting on his shoulder.

When Papa Howard noticed us, he guided Regulus toward Mama Sonia and me. He dismounted and stepped in front of Mama Sonia.

For a while, they simply faced each other, saying nothing, almost as if they were speaking only through their eyes. Then quietly, Papa Howard wrapped an arm around her back and pulled her gently into an embrace.

“…I’ll be going.” He whispered in her ear.
“Howard…” I saw Mama Sonia’s hands tighten on Papa Howard’s back.
“…May fortune favor you.”
“…Thank you. Stay well.”

They slowly separated. As if reluctant to let go, their hands lingered on each other’s arms before they finally stepped apart.

Papa Howard gently held Mama Sonia’s hand, then turned his gaze toward me.

Our eyes met. His crimson cloak swayed as he stepped closer.
Then he placed his large hands softly on my shoulders.

“…Susie. I’m counting on you for what comes next.”
“Y… yes…”

That was all I could say. There were so many things I wanted to say. Please don’t get hurt. Please stay safe. Please come back. But not a single one of those words came out.

Then Knight-Commander Meyers’ order rang out.

Papa Howard mounted Regulus again, and Gilbert led the horse back toward the center of the formation.

Mama Sonia and I held each other’s hands and watched silently.

Soon, the battalion began to move. Like a solemn ritual… Like a giant living creature slowly stirring to life.

Mama Sonia and I simply watched.

One by one, the long line of soldiers passed through the open fortress gate beside the station building.

At some point, Papa Howard disappeared into the ranks. I rose onto my toes, trying to catch one last glimpse.

But he was already gone among the moving columns. Mama Sonia and I remained there together… Watching until the final soldiers passed through the gate and vanished into the depths of the forest.