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Orthus had died.

The news swiftly cast Imitia Belbed’s world into shades of gray.

◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆

She had requested a cup of her preferred tea, which she’d discovered during her travels, incorporated with a liberal amount of honey. The sweet and fresh aroma of the tea, wafting through her nostrils, complemented the toast, generously coated with butter.

Her morning was spent at the dining table with a cheerful ambiance, surrounded by the hundred and three members of the caravan, who were akin to family.

“Let’s head to the island in the south next!”
“No, no. We should go by the gold mine in the north!”
“I hear that dragons appear along that route.”
“What’s there to be afraid of? We have Somme and Godala here!”
“Or even better, why don’t we cross the desert?!”
“I hear there’s a festival going on there.”

The dining table was bustling and brimming with a spirit of adventure.

A map of the world, adorned with wine stains, rested on the dining table in the morning, while a group of men lacking refinement engaged in disputes over this and that.

The Belbed Caravan were as free as they could be. They were prepared to soar in any direction the compass dictated. There wasn’t a single thing in this world that tethered them, as their wings had the power to carry them across the boundless expanse.

And so, where would their destination be today? Imitia gazed into her cup of tea, her attention drifting to the fools she viewed as family, their faces flushed from their morning libations.

Theirs was a ridiculous journey without end. A leisurely, easygoing, endless journey.

“Hold your horses! Didn’t we decide yesterday that we’d head the ship east towards Elesta?! What’s all this talk about now?”

All the members of the caravan displayed visible frowns at Imitia’s comment, who found herself flustered. Even their leader couldn’t help but flinch under the weight of over a hundred people directing their disapproving gazes at her…

“W-What’s with those faces…”
“Imitia…”

Woodback, his size enough to overshadow the dining table and its hundred-strong occupants, sighed from above.

“We already said yesterday that Elesta’s famous for not having anything to do there… There are only flower gardens and coasts there… We’d have nothing to do there.”

Woodback said, sloshing around a keg of alcohol. He was met by a series of encouraging comments from the group.

“That’s right!”
“Are you telling us to have fun by making flower crowns or something?”
“No beaches, no villages, not even young ladies…”

One by one, the discussion continued without respite. The men readily aired their objections.

“Y-You lot… Don’t make me remind you that I’m the leader! And the leader’s word is law!” Imitia shouted. However, her petite frame made it hard for anyone to take her seriously.

Conversely, they viewed Imitia as a small pet that they felt they had to protect.

“Imitia, just why do you want to go to Elesta so bad? You’re only saying you want to go, but why is that? What’s the reason?”
“That’s…”

Imitia quieted down. Woodback seemed to have hit the nail on the head.

Observing her response, the members of the group began to grow increasingly raucous, without any semblance of order.

However, Imitia didn’t interject amid the clamor of the drunken individuals.

“Do I need a reason to want to go? Huh?! Doesn’t our caravan go wherever it pleases?! Do we really need to have a reason?”
“Of course we do, you little pup!”
“Oh my, you dare compare a proud member of the Wolfens with a mere pup?! Amusing! Fine then! Those who have a beef with me, step forward!”

Imitia roared, stepping up to the provocations.

Given their rough natures, the group were more likely to engage in fistfights, rather than heated arguments. But, of course, it wasn’t as though they had any intentions of actually harming one another.

This sort of banter brought about a lot of joy, often encouraging onlookers to drink even more. However, as if to pour cold water on the fervent atmosphere, an aged voice softly spoke with purpose, “If my memory serves me right, Elesta is where one goes to pray to the God of Love, Elvada.”

A momentary pause. The gazes of the men directed at Imitia turned vacant. “Again?” Was the question that remained unspoken, but was clearly visible in everyone’s eyes.

The elderly man, and the oldest member of the caravan, Gagadan, continued to elaborate.

“I seem to recall a rather shocking notion that if one were to pray in the local churches, they would find themselves united with the very person they held in their thoughts.”

The old man’s deliberate speech was enough to put suspicion on Imitia’s motives.

“Phew! You know quite a lot, Gagadan! Phew! That’s nice… Whoa… This is the first time I’m hearing about this… How amusing…” Imitia’s eyes danced horizontally in a repeated, rhythmic pattern.

With a gentle sigh, she commenced sipping her chilled tea.

“So it’s about Sir Or again…” A voice echoed, seemingly representing a collective sentiment.

Imitia’s face flushed instantaneously. “W-Who I like is my own business! It’s also my business that I went to Elesta, offered my prayers at the church, and even had a special locket crafted, adorned with a picture of the person I like! It’s all my own business!”

“Whoa… She went ahead and spilled everything without us even having to ask.”
“This wouldn’t be the first time we’d be going somewhere to satisfy the leader’s love interests!”
“The ship is basically hers at this point!”
“I mean; it would be quite a feat if the leader manages to seduce Orthus with that petite frame of hers. He’s definitely been with a number of beauties already.”
“Let me finish!” Imitia roared.

And so, the ship of the Imitia Caravan shifted its direction towards Elesta. It wasn’t uncommon for them to decide their destination based on their mood. And a touch of selfishness from their leader held its own allure.

While the group members expressed their dismay, they continued to drink cheerfully, just as they always did.

“Raise sails! Take the helm!”

After breakfast, the members of the group progressed energetically with their day’s tasks.