More than thirty years ago.
A certain valley on the border between the Empire and the United Kingdom.
The rugged terrain here was unsuitable for marching, and the various unknown Demons meant even spies rarely chose to pass through.
Yet at this moment, there were two figures in the valley.
Sigmund had wrapped himself up tightly, his hood pulled very low, revealing only a small stretch of pale chin.
He was supporting the weakened Ina as they moved through the woods, stopping from time to time to listen in silence, making sure there was no other movement behind them.
They reached the lakeside they had agreed on.
The water's surface was calm, reflecting the sun hanging high in the sky. Sigmund looked up at it, then pulled his hood even lower.
A sound suddenly came from ahead, and Sigmund's hand instantly went to the iron blade at his waist, but when he saw who stepped out from behind the tree, his hand moved away.
"Alama."
"Sigmund!"
