Over the next few days, the Haligtree was as calm as a glassy sea. The Kindred of Rot seemed to have truly settled down. Even their young no longer bothered to crawl up the roots, instead waiting quietly in the deep underground.
This state continued, as though both sides had reached some unspoken understanding.
Elphael remained as lively as ever. Nolan stood by the window and stretched, looking down to see transport caravans coming and going. Ships could even be spotted approaching from afar, and the patrols showed no sign of being reduced.
"I slept really well. Woke up full of energy, but why does my waist feel sore?"
The slumber Trina had granted was intoxicating. In dreams, he could meet people and moments he would never forget, leaving his mind deeply satisfied. Yet his body seemed to be protesting.
Thinking of something unpleasant, Nolan quickly checked himself over. Only after confirming there was nothing wrong did he finally relax.
"Heh. You slept for five whole days. Of course you're sore."
Finlay appeared quietly at his side, tapping the windowsill before breaking into cheerful laughter.
"Five days straight. Who knows what sweet dreams you were having. Must've been blissful. If those Dryleaf faction guys found out, they'd be jealous to death."
The sleep had been wonderful, sure, but not to the point of addiction. Just what was wrong with those Dryleaf people, anyway?
Nolan complained inwardly, but he was not too worried.
Who would go around spreading news about someone sleeping? He had no desire to be surrounded by seekers the moment he stepped outside.
Besides, this place was relatively secluded. Most people would never associate the Merciful Empyrean with the Gentle Saintess. There was little chance this would become widely known.
"That aside, why are you here? Finished with your work?" Nolan asked.
"No. His Highness sent me to get you." Finlay crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, watching her friend. "Honestly, I'm starting to wonder whether the war is really about to begin."
Her tone carried genuine concern. Nolan nodded slightly. His hesitation was not fear. A hero like him would not be scared. He simply could not understand why things had developed this way.
In the game, Godwyn's death had come far too suddenly. Even now, it was never entirely clear who had been involved. A knight stationed so far away at the Haligtree had even less chance of predicting what would trigger the war.
And yet, there was still no news of Godwyn the Golden's death. It was hard not to suspect that Miquella knew something, or perhaps was even one of the masterminds.
But to what end? What did he gain from taking part in the Night of the Black Knives? Was he eager to hasten a change of dynasty? Had he reached some sort of agreement with Ranni and Rykard? Or did he simply wish to grant his elder brother a proper death?
Nolan could not make sense of it. With the information he had, there was no way to arrive at a convincing answer.
"Come on. I'll take you back to the lower levels. Everything's already been arranged."
Finlay's voice abruptly cut through his drifting thoughts. She grabbed Nolan's wrist and turned, heading straight for the door.
They descended the steps together, residents of the Haligtree greeting them along the way.
They returned every greeting with warm smiles, showing none of the aloofness often expected of knights.
Upon reaching the lower levels and looking around, the surroundings grew noticeably quieter.
There were no longer bustling crowds. Only a small number of Cleanrot Knights and Golden Needle Knights patrolled the area.
Compared to the upper levels, this place was exceptionally still.
Nolan could not help but recall the days he had once lived here, before becoming a Golden Needle Knight and moving into the barracks.
As Leda had said, life in the army was itself a form of tempering.
From today onward, he had returned to this familiar place once more. The Saintess had even arranged a small celebration for him.
After being busy for so long, the knights' tightly wound nerves finally found a rare chance to relax. The grand banquet stretched from dusk deep into the night.
Aside from the knights who had to stay on rotation and could not drink to their heart's content, everyone else looked like they were eager to drink themselves under the table.
The people hailed as heroes were a pack of hopeless drunks tonight, but what epic ever went without wine?
Near midnight, Nolan rode the lift down to the ground level with a bottle in hand, swaying as he walked. When he stepped outside, a light breeze brushed over him, carrying a faint chill that felt oddly pleasant.
He lifted his head. Above was a circular patch of sky, and in that moment he could clearly feel it: he was inside a great tree.
The Haligtree's boughs were divided into two main branches, and the city of Elphael sat upon one of them.
The buildings of the entire city formed a crescent, clinging tightly to the trunk. The residence of the two Empyreans lay at the lowest point where the branches met, piercing through the tree's wall and linking inside and out.
Within the branch, everything carried a heavy Western flavor. White structures were built along the inner bark, passages stretched outward to connect with the outer city, and man-made waterways gathered together, pouring down from on high like a waterfall.
Standing amid such a sight felt like stepping into a paradise.
Nolan drew a deep breath, about to find a place to sit and take it all in, when footsteps suddenly sounded behind him.
At first, he assumed it was Finlay, but the rhythm felt wrong. He turned at once.
A small figure in a purple gown stood there, and that delicate face was far too familiar.
"Princess Trina…"
"Shh. I slipped out without telling Leda and Finlay." Trina pressed a finger to her lips. With her other hand, she caught Nolan's hand and smiled. "I really don't want to get dragged back."
"They're only thinking of your safety," Nolan said with a chuckle.
With how slight the Saintess looked, if he were some grand hero, he could turn into the villainous dragon who snatched her away in an instant.
"I know. And keep it down. Don't draw them over here." His Highness the Saintess was simply too cute. Tugging him along, she said, "Come with me."
They followed the sound of running water, crossing a narrow suspended bridge over a fissure. Those warped, tangled roots from the game were hardly visible now.
A silver moon hung high overhead, spilling soft light across everything. The steady murmur of water in his ears grew louder and louder.
Nolan looked ahead. There was roiling water before him, and above, a curtain of falling water. He knew where it came from, yet it still gave the impression of pouring straight down from the heavens.
There had always been a waterfall here, but not this starlit pool. Nolan had no idea who had made it.
If he could leave a message, he would have written, "Spectacular view ahead," on the way here.
"I've named this place Saintess Lake," Trina said with a smile, her eyes bright.
"Saintess… you're really full of yourself," Nolan said, laughing despite himself.
"Watch your mouth." Trina puffed out her cheeks, teasing in her tone. "And don't get too close. Come over here. I heard there's a blonde ghost wandering around lately. Wouldn't want you to get snatched away."
Nolan, who had been about to step closer to admire the lake, stopped. Not because he was afraid. He simply assumed the Saintess was trying to scare him again.
What ghost would dare act up right under a demigod's nose?
He slowly turned, his gaze settling on the girl beneath the moon.
In the clean moonlight, her figure looked especially hazy, almost unreal.
"Nolan." Trina met his eyes, utterly unashamed, as if shyness had never existed in her world. "Create the future with me."
A long silence.
Nolan raised the bottle and drained it in one go.
"Of course," he said. "I'm your loyal knight, Saintess."
Maybe it was not the best ending.
But if it was Trina, then at the very least, it would not be the worst.