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Riveria stepped into the wooden house, greeted immediately by the aroma of warm tea and baked pastries. The interior was simple yet tidy—a bookshelf in the corner of the room, a large wooden dining table, and wide windows that let the morning light slip in.
From the kitchen, a gentle green-haired Elf woman emerged with a tray in her hands.
"Riveria," Aina greeted with a warm smile. "You're right on time. The tea has just finished brewing."
Her green hair was neatly braided in a motherly side plait that fell over one shoulder. There was a strong maternal aura about her—warm, soothing, a contrast to Riveria's elegant sternness, which resembled a queen of the battlefield more than a homemaker.
Riveria removed her cloak's hood, her long emerald hair cascading smoothly down her back. She sat down slowly on the provided chair.
"Thank you, Aina. It seems I came at the right time."
Aina presented the teacup and a small plate of cookies. "For my best friend, of course, only the best."
Riveria lifted her cup, gently blowing on the thin wisp of rising steam. "Your daughter is becoming more independent," she said after a sip. "I still remember when Eina used to hide behind your skirt every time she met me."
Aina chuckled softly, her hand covering her mouth. "Don't say that. She'd be mortified if reminded of that."
"Time passes quickly," Riveria continued quietly. "Now she's representing the Guild outside the city. That's no small responsibility."
Aina's face shone with pride. "She works hard. She's even quite popular at the Guild. Many adventurers often seek her out for special help."
Riveria raised a slender eyebrow. "Oh?"
Aina leaned in slightly, her tone shifting to a half-whisper. "There's a dwarf and an Elf who openly like her. I heard from Misha, her coworker."
Riveria chuckled softly. "So? Which son-in-law will you choose?"
"I leave it entirely up to Eina," Aina answered casually, then her smile turned mischievous. "But..."
Riveria narrowed her eyes. "But what?"
Aina sipped her tea first, as if savoring the small tension she was creating. "Honestly... I have a certain favorite."
"Who?" asked Riveria, beginning to sense something was off.
Aina smiled widely. "Emiya Shirou."
"—Khuk!"
Riveria choked on the tea she had just drunk. The warm liquid nearly sprayed out if she hadn't quickly covered her mouth.
"Wh-What?" her voice was a little hoarse, her cheeks flushing faintly—a reaction rarely seen from her.
Aina held back her laughter. "He's polite, hardworking, and handsome. Isn't that so?"
Riveria turned her face away, trying to restore the dignity that had momentarily cracked.
"Don't talk nonsense," she muttered, though her heartbeat was slightly faster than usual.
Aina tilted her head with a feigned innocent expression. "Oh? Why? Last time I saw them talking, I thought Shirou looked quite compatible standing alongside Eina."
Riveria immediately frowned. Her lips pursed slightly, an expression she rarely showed in front of others. "You're teasing me, aren't you?"
"Huh? Why am I the one being accused?" Aina held back her laughter, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "I'm just speaking as a mother considering a potential son-in-law."
Riveria took a long breath, then placed her teacup down a little harder than usual—not quite slamming it, but enough to produce a small sound, tok. "You must already know that Shirou is the person I..." She stopped. Her throat suddenly felt dry. That word—so simple—felt the hardest to utter.
Aina leaned in, her smile widening. "The person you... What?"
Riveria averted her gaze, her cheeks faintly flushed. "Don't force me to say it."
Aina couldn't hold back her laughter anymore. Her voice rang lightly, filling the room. "Oh, Riveria. It's been so long since I've seen you this flustered."
Annoyed, Riveria reached for her friend's cheek and pinched it. "You are truly impossible."
"Ouch, that hurts!" Aina exaggerated her complaint, though clearly not actually in pain. "I'm just repaying you for teasing me mercilessly when I fell in love with my husband. Remember? You said I smiled like an idiot all day long."
Riveria paused for a moment, then snorted softly. "That was different."
"Not different at all," Aina replied softly. "You're just going through the same thing."
And Riveria couldn't argue.
Riveria waved her hand slightly, trying to dispel the lingering awkwardness in her chest. "Enough. Let's talk about something more important."
"Like what?" Aina was still smiling, clearly not entirely satisfied with teasing her friend.
Riveria took a shallow breath, then straightened her back again like the Elf aristocrat she usually presented to the world. "The purpose of my visit here. I want to study the ancient knowledge from our forest... and maybe later, open your magic circuit."
Hearing that, Aina nodded in understanding. She rose from her seat and walked towards the wooden cabinet in the corner of the room. After opening its door—creak—she took out a large, seemingly heavy bag, then placed it on the table in front of Riveria.
"Here," she said while opening the bag's cover.
Inside, various books and ancient scrolls were neatly arranged. Their covers were made of leather yellowed by time, with ancient symbols engraved on their surfaces—hieroglyphic-style Elvish script that only a few could understand.
"Please start first," Aina said. "As for my magic circuit... maybe tonight."
Riveria nodded faintly, her hand immediately moving to take one of the books. She opened the first page carefully, observing the ink that had begun to fade but was still legible. The writings contained ancient magical records—theories on mana flow, spiritual resonance, and energy manipulation techniques.
"Well-preserved," she murmured.
Aina smiled appreciatively. "The library must have kept it for a long time."
After ensuring Riveria was engrossed in her reading, Aina stood and straightened her apron. "I'll excuse myself for a bit; there are some household chores I need to finish. I'll join you later."
Riveria simply nodded without shifting her gaze from the book in her hand. Her world had now narrowed to those ancient letters—and the secrets held within.
Riveria began to slowly explore the contents of those ancient books. Page by page, she opened them carefully, ensuring not to damage the fragile paper that had lasted through the ages. The distinct scent of old parchment mixed with the aroma of warm tea filled the room, creating a peaceful atmosphere she rarely experienced in Orario.
Occasionally, she sipped the tea Aina had prepared, then took a small piece of snack beside her. The light sweetness helped keep her focus sharp as her eyes traced the lines of neatly arranged ancient script.
She hoped to find something.
A clue.
A new approach.
Something that could help overcome the stagnation she had recently felt in developing her magecraft.
However, as she read deeper, Riveria realized the manuscript's contents did not discuss high-level techniques as she had imagined. Instead, the writings explained the basic concepts of magic—but from the perspective of the ancient Elves.
For other mages, these concepts might feel simple.
But for Riveria, this was precisely interesting.
The ancient Elves did not view magic merely as a tool or weapon. They saw it as an extension of nature itself—something that flows, not something forced. There was an emphasis on harmony with the environment, resonance with natural mana, and self-awareness before spell activation.
"Interesting..." she murmured.
This approach differed from the more structural modern magic systems. Here, magic felt more... organic.
A short while later, the sound of light footsteps came from inside the house.
Aina returned, carrying another manuscript in her hand. She sat in the chair opposite Riveria without saying a word, then unrolled the scroll and began reading.
The room fell silent again.
Only the soft sound of pages being turned.
The two friends immersed themselves in ancient knowledge—searching for something perhaps long forgotten.
Time passed unnoticed.
From morning until nearly dusk, the two High Elves were submerged in an ocean of ancient writings, flipping through manuscript after manuscript laden with the thoughts of their ancestors. Occasionally, they stopped only for a simple lunch—then returned to the world of letters and ink nearly forgotten by time.
The sunlight was beginning to turn golden when suddenly—
"Uwah...!"
Aina stared at the sheet in her hand with wide eyes.
Riveria, who was reading across the table, looked up. "What is it?"
Her tone was calm, but curiosity was clearly hidden within.
Aina turned, still with an incredulous expression. "This isn't about the ancient magic you're looking for..."
Riveria sighed softly. "Then?"
"But I think... this is something that will interest you."
Riveria's eyebrow rose slightly. "What?"
Aina rotated the thin manuscript in her hand, showing its faded cover. The writing on it was barely legible, but the letter shapes remained distinct.
"This... is a personal record belonging to Her Majesty Celdia."
Riveria sat up straight immediately.
"Seriously?!"
Her tone was no longer as calm as usual.
She could hardly believe what she heard. That name was no ordinary name. Celdia was one of the legendary figures in Elf history—a mage often mentioned in myths, poems, and ancient legends.
And now—
"Is it possible... she left something personal in the Alf royal library?" Riveria murmured, half to herself.
Her eyes were now fixed on the small book in Aina's hand, as if seeing a priceless treasure.
Riveria immediately shifted from her chair and sat beside Aina, bringing her body close so they could read the manuscript's contents together. Their shoulders almost touched as the first page was slowly opened—the old paper creaked softly, krrt, as if reluctant to reveal its secrets after being hidden for so long.
The beginning of the writing turned out not to be spells or magical records, but a life story.
About a girl too young to bear a crown.
Celdia wrote how she was forced to ascend the throne at an age that should have still been filled with laughter and freedom. Her parents fell victim to monster attacks, leaving the royal forest without a protector. From that day, she was no longer allowed to be a child.
She had to be strong.
She had to be a wall for her people.
And from that moment on, she closed off her feelings.
Riveria read line after line with bated breath. The writing described how Celdia buried her sorrow, locked her heart, and made herself a cold ruler to protect the Elves in the Alf Royal Forest. Only one person could see the small crack in that wall—her younger sister, Rishena.
In front of her, Celdia could still smile.
Could still be an older sister.
Aina paused her reading for a moment, her fingers holding the next page.
"I... feel like I'm prying into something too personal," she murmured.
Riveria shook her head.
"Precisely because of that, we must read," she said gently but firmly. "We need to understand what she went through."
After all, the current Alf royal family were descendants of Rishena—not of Celdia herself. Reading this was not merely curiosity, but an effort to understand the history that lived in their blood.
With a soft breath, Aina opened the next page again.
The story continued until one important meeting.
The first encounter with a human.
Albert.
A hero who dared to penetrate the Elf forest—something almost impossible for outsiders. He came not as a conqueror, nor as a seeker of wealth, but as an adventurer walking through a world filled with darkness.
Behind her cold expression, Celdia noted something she herself seemed reluctant to acknowledge.
She was impressed.
Captivated by Albert's calm smile—a smile that remained even when the world was filled with monsters and suffering.
Aina read the next part with sparkling eyes. The name Albert was indeed familiar to anyone in this world. He was a legend—an ancient hero whose name was carved in history as the figure who once wounded the Black Dragon and blinded one of its eyes. That story was so grand that even children knew it.
"Imagine," Aina murmured, "this was written before that great event. Before the world knew him as the challenger of the Black Dragon..."
Riveria nodded slowly. She knew more than she could say. She knew that Albert was not just a legend in history books—he was Aiz's biological father. A secret that Loki Familia guarded closely. That thought darkened Riveria's gaze for a moment, but she quickly refocused on the manuscript.
Celdia wrote how Albert's arrival changed everything. With his presence, the Elves managed to suppress the wave of monsters that had long plagued the borders of the Alf Royal Forest. Albert's strategy was different—bold, straightforward, and full of conviction. He fought on the front lines, not hiding behind troops. And slowly, the forest, always shadowed by threat, began to regain its peace.
On one page, Celdia described an afternoon on the palace balcony. The wind blew through her green hair while Albert stood before her, his eyes reflecting the twilight. He said he would continue his journey because the world outside still needed his sword.
"Just like that?" Aina whispered.
Riveria read the next sentence. Celdia responded to that farewell with the formality of a queen. But Albert—with a half-joking smile—invited her to leave the forest, abandon the throne, and adventure with him.
Celdia fell silent. In her writing, it was palpable how her heart pounded. But she politely refused. Her responsibility as queen was too great to abandon.
That night, Rishena confessed she had overheard the conversation. With a gentle yet firm voice, she urged her sister to go. "This time, let me protect this forest," Celdia wrote, quoting her sister. "You've held back for too long."
Riveria swallowed hard reading that part. Celdia finally realized that Rishena was no longer the little girl she needed to protect, but a princess ready to bear responsibility.
And the next morning, Celdia left her homeland.
She followed Albert out of the forest.
Not as a queen.
But as an adventurer.
Aina covered part of the page with her fingers, smiling softly. "Somehow... this part reminds me of us back then," she said quietly. "When we first left the Alf Royal Forest. The world felt so vast... and frightening."
Riveria raised an eyebrow, then snorted softly. "The difference is, we left with a lewd goddess and a pallum who didn't even have his life direction figured out," she replied dryly, though the corner of her lips lifted slightly. "Not with a legendary hero whose name would be remembered for thousands of years."
Aina giggled. "True. Very different from Albert."
"Very different," Riveria murmured, but this time her voice was softer.
They looked back down at the manuscript. The ancient ink seemed to hold the writer's heartbeat. Celdia wrote in detail about her experiences outside the forest—about skies that felt wider than the green canopy of the Alf forest, about the noisy and chaotic human cities, and about the scent of foreign yet heartwarming food. She described how she was always vigilant at first, her hand never far from her staff, her cold eyes observing every corner.
But slowly, that stiffness melted.
Riveria could feel the resonance. She remembered her early days outside the forest—how arrogant she was then, how difficult it was to accept a world that didn't operate according to Elf etiquette. She sighed softly. "That feeling... I've felt it too," she whispered almost inaudibly.
On the following pages, Celdia wrote about Albert. About how the man laughed heartily after battles, about how he praised without excess, about how he walked slightly ahead yet always turned to ensure Celdia hadn't fallen behind.
There was one part that made Aina hold her breath. Celdia confessed she began to feel something she couldn't name. Every time they rested under the night sky, she found herself watching Albert's profile illuminated by the campfire. Her heart beat faster—thump, thump, thump—something she had never felt even when facing monsters.
Yet, as a queen, she hid it behind a cold expression and firm demeanor.
"I wish this journey would never end," Celdia wrote in one sentence whose strokes were slightly deeper than others. "If only I could keep walking by his side, facing the world's darkness together, without a throne, without a crown."
Aina covered her mouth softly. Riveria stared at that page for a long time, her green eyes reflecting the twilight from the window.
A simple wish.
To walk side by side.
Not as a queen.
Not as a legend.
Just as two people who trusted each other.
But Celdia's hope of enjoying their journey alone together slowly cracked when a new figure entered their story.
The notes on the next page changed tone—sharper, more emotional.
One day, while crossing a rocky plain, an amazoness appeared and directly challenged Albert to a fight. Without preamble, without greeting, without any reason other than "wanting to test his strength."
"I want to know if you're worthy of being called a hero," Celdia wrote, clearly mimicking the woman's words—as if she still remembered every intonation.
The fight was fierce.
Dust flew, weapon clashes echoed—clang! clang!—as they exchanged blows with almost equal power. But in the end, Albert won. With one clean move, he felled his opponent without injuring more than necessary.
Celdia wrote that she thought the amazoness would retreat in shame.
She was wrong.
Instead of leaving, the woman stared at Albert with sparkling eyes, as if finding something precious.
"A crude creature without manners," Celdia wrote with strokes clearly deeper. "Instead of accepting defeat with honor, she grinned gleefully like a dog in heat."
The amazoness introduced herself as Evelda.
And from that moment on... she stuck.
Not only that, Evelda openly showed her interest in Albert—something that made Celdia completely unable to understand her behavior. In a rather sharp note, she wrote that amazonesses seemed to have a "strange habit of chasing strong men without an ounce of shame."
Riveria raised an eyebrow, reading that part.
Aina covered her mouth, suppressing laughter.
Even more surprising, Albert didn't refuse when Evelda asked to join their journey.
Just like that.
From two... they became three.
The next several pages were filled with small, almost comical stories. Celdia repeatedly noted how she had to block Evelda from getting too close to Albert—both physically and emotionally.
Aina couldn't help but laugh softly. "I never imagined legendary figures had dynamics like this..."
Nevertheless, over time, Celdia's annoyance subsided slightly. She began to acknowledge that Evelda wasn't just a nuisance, but a highly reliable fighter. In battle, Evelda and Albert fought on the front lines, cleaving enemies with their brutal strength, while Celdia supported from behind with precise magic.
The trio became an almost perfect formation.
And in the end, Celdia wrote not with annoyance... but with reluctant acknowledgment.
However, the next note changed drastically in tone.
Celdia's writing became messier, the strokes deep and no longer as smooth as before. There, an incident was recorded that nearly cost everything.
In one battle against a high-class monster—a large-fanged creature with scales as hard as steel—their formation broke apart for a moment. Celdia was too focused on casting offensive magic until she didn't notice one large shadow lunging from her blind side.
Albert saw it first.
Without hesitation, he jumped.
"Celdia, get back!"
A loud boom shook the ground—BRAKK!—Albert's body slammed into rocks after receiving the slash meant to cleave the queen. Blood sprayed, staining the ground and leaves. The monster fell moments later to Evelda's fury, but it was already too late.
Albert lay still.
Silent.
Celdia wrote that at that moment, the world seemed to fall silent. The mask of composure she always wore crumbled instantly. She knelt beside Albert, hands trembling, breath racing.
"Wake up... don't joke like this," she wrote, even in the diary, she seemed to be pleading.
Evelda, usually boisterous and fearless, suddenly turned pale. Without many words, she ran to find help, leaving Celdia alone with the body growing colder.
On that page, Celdia blamed herself mercilessly. She cursed her negligence, her inability to master healing magic. She was the Elf queen, master of high magic—yet unable to save one person.
"Because of me... he's critically wounded."
The writing stopped for a few seconds before continuing.
Albert, even half-conscious, still managed a faint smile. "A panicked face like that... doesn't suit you, Queen," Celdia wrote, quoting his words. "You're more beautiful when you're composed."
Riveria held her breath reading that part.
Not long after, Evelda returned—not alone. With her was a golden-haired woman with eyes as bright as the sun. Her face was nearly perfect, too perfect, like a living porcelain doll. The air around her rustled softly.
She was a wind spirit.
With her delicate hand, she touched Albert's chest. Gentle wind swirled, enveloping his wounds. Greenish light shimmered, and slowly, the blood stopped flowing. The split flesh knits back together.
Celdia noted that she had never held someone's hand that tightly before. As if releasing it would let Albert slip away from this world again.
After the healing was complete, the woman smiled softly.
"My name is Aria," Celdia wrote. "If you are willing, allow me to walk with you."
Aina suddenly startled slightly. "That's Aria... the Great Wind Spirit, right? In other tales, she's mentioned as Albert's lover."
She turned to Riveria, eyes widening. "If so... then what about Her Majesty Celdia's feelings?"
Riveria remained silent for quite some time after that question left Aina's lips. Her fingertips still held the open page, but her eyes were no longer truly reading. She knew the answer—or at least part of it. Aiz was proof of that story's end, the fruit of Albert and Aria's love. But saying that now felt like opening another chapter, not yet ready to be revealed.
"I... don't know," Riveria finally said softly, choosing the safest answer. "Let's just continue. Perhaps Celdia herself will answer it."
Aina nodded, though curiosity clearly hadn't completely faded. They looked back down at the ancient manuscript.
Celdia's subsequent writing described Aria in a... gentle way. The queen called the wind spirit innocent, almost childlike in some ways. She was easily surprised, easily laughed, and often became the target of Evelda's mischievous teasing, which could never be restrained.
"Aria is too trusting," Celdia wrote. "If Evelda said there was a flower behind a small stone, she would actually go check."
Riveria couldn't help but smile, faintly imagining that.
But Celdia also noted how, somehow, Aria often reminded her of young Rishena—the way she smiled without burden, the way she looked at the world with pure curiosity. Unconsciously, Celdia often positioned herself between Aria and danger, as if her old instincts as an older sister had resurfaced.
But there was another thing that couldn't be ignored.
Aria was increasingly often by Albert's side. She laughed at his silly jokes, healed his arms when he was slightly injured, and praised his swordsmanship without hesitation. Unlike Celdia, who held back, hiding her heart's turmoil behind a queen's cold expression, Aria was so honest about her feelings.
Celdia wrote that she chose silence.
She swallowed it all.
She locked again the door that had briefly opened in her heart.
Until one night, when the moon hung pale in the sky, and the forest air felt cool, she saw something she never wrote about without ink strokes deeper than usual.
Under an old tree, Albert leaned down.
And kissed Aria.
The subsequent writing changed drastically.
No longer neat like the records of a queen maintaining distance from her own emotions.
The letters began to slant. Several ink strokes pressed too deeply as if the pen had almost torn the paper.
Celdia wrote that she turned away before they could notice her presence. Her steps were quick, almost like running without direction. Dry leaves crunched under her feet—kresk... kresk...—while her breath became short and irregular.
She left them.
Left that tree.
Left the sight she never wanted to see.
And for the first time since her parents fell to monsters, tears flowed down her cheeks.
Unstoppable.
Uncontrollable.
"It's not fair..." she wrote.
The ink strokes on that word were so deep they nearly pierced the page.
"I was the one who met him first."
"I was the one who was by his side longer."
"Why... wasn't it me?"
That writing was like a scream forced to remain silent.
Celdia questioned herself—something she had never allowed before. Did Albert prefer someone who could honestly show her feelings? Someone who smiled without hesitation, who spoke without weighing royal responsibilities, who wasn't constrained by the invisible crown above her head?
Not a cold queen who never lets her expression crack.
Not someone who didn't even know how to smile without feeling awkward.
"If I had been more honest..."
"If I had been more beautiful..."
"Maybe this wouldn't have happened."
Aina sobbed softly while reading that part, her hand unconsciously covering her mouth. Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes, as if feeling the profound pain from a figure she had only known as a legend.
Riveria said nothing.
She just stared at that page in silence.
Transfixed.
The subsequent writing became neater again, as if the writer had swallowed back the storm that briefly broke within her.
Celdia noted that the next day, Albert called them both—her and Evelda—with an expression different from usual. There was no pre-battle tension, no seriousness of strategy. Only strange calm... and a hint of awkwardness.
Aria stood beside him.
Their hands were clasped together.
Albert took a slow breath before speaking, "We want to tell you something."
His voice was honest. Not fabricated.
He looked at them both, then continued, "We... have decided to be together."
No lengthy explanation needed.
No need for the word "love."
Their clasped hands explained everything clearly enough.
Evelda, as usual, broke the tension. She chuckled softly, patting Albert's shoulder hard—duk!
"Wow, wow, finally together, huh?!" she said half-jokingly. "But don't think I'll give up so easily!"
She winked playfully, as if still competing.
Albert could only scratch his cheek awkwardly.
Aria smiled softly, not appearing to see Evelda as any threat at all, or more accurately, not grasping Evelda's intent.
Meanwhile, Celdia...
...just stood there.
Her mask was perfectly back in place.
No trembling.
No tears.
No visible cracks whatsoever.
She nodded slightly, then spoke with a calm voice that was almost too perfect, "Congratulations."
That word tasted bitter even in writing.
Aria, with an almost painful innocence, bowed slightly. "Thank you... I hope we can all still be together."
Celdia did not answer.
She just watched them walk away—Albert's back side by side with the wind spirit, who had now become the center of his world.
And in her heart, which she no longer allowed to open, she carved a vow.
She would not forget this feeling.
Even if that love never returned to her.
Aina exhaled softly after reading that part. Her eyes were still moist when she commented quietly, "So... Her Majesty Celdia never married, not because she wanted to be a saintly figure like in the legends..."
She gently touched that page.
"...but because of unrequited love."
Riveria opened the last page carefully, as if afraid the old paper would crumble just from being touched too hard. That page wasn't filled with historical records, nor battle reports or political strategies.
Just poetry.
Celdia's handwriting looked lighter here—not as assertive as previous notes. As if for the first time, she wasn't writing as a queen, but as a woman.
Aina leaned closer, reading together.
The poem was short.
Yet enough to make one's chest feel tight.
—
Under the same sky,
I walk in your shadow.
You carry the light,
and I... only keep my distance.
If the world is a long road,
let me stay behind you.
You need not turn around.
As long as I can still see your back—
That is enough for me.
—
Silence filled the room after they finished reading it.
Aina covered her mouth, holding back a small sob. Tears fell again, this time without effort to hide them. She quickly wiped her cheeks while laughing softly, embarrassed.
"Oh dear... I got carried away," she said quietly.
She stood, straightening her sleeves. "I... will prepare dinner first."
Her steps were light yet hurried as she left the room, perhaps to hide her emotions.
Riveria didn't immediately close the book.
She leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling with empty eyes. That poem kept echoing in her head.
Keeping distance.
No need to turn around.
Just seeing his back is enough.
That thought felt... too familiar.
Shirou.
That name appeared unbidden in her mind.
That foolish hero who always walked ahead, without thinking if anyone was left behind. Who always chose the most dangerous path, as if suffering was a price worth paying.
Riveria sighed softly.
Would she... also end up like Celdia?
Just standing behind.
Watching.
Without ever truly being part of that journey.
Her fingers unconsciously gripped the book's edge.
"...idiot," she murmured, unsure whether she was referring to herself—or the man who always walked too far ahead.