Around the time
The location was the Church headquarters, in the Spring Garden.
Come spring, the garden burst into a riot of colorful blossoms.
Many trees had tilted slightly askew from the mud Rudeus had created the other day, but their vitality remained undiminished. Proof of that was the fact that, as if trading places with the Sarah trees, the Barta trees were now in bloom.
Before one such tree, two women stood facing each other.
One with golden hair, one with red.
Therese and
And behind Therese, the Divine Child stood, half-hidden in her shadow.
She fidgeted, rubbing her knees together, huddled up small.
Surrounding them were several men in blue armor, but they were little more than backdrop.
"Come now, Divine Child. It's Lady Eris. Rudeus made time for you, you know."
Therese called gently to the Divine Child behind her.
But the Divine Child only shrank further.
"Bu-but... um, it's Lady Eris, you know?"
To her, Eris was an object of awe.
Ever since she could remember, she had been locked away in a white room. Each time something happened, she was dragged outside and forced to see the sordid memories of broken adults.
She had lived in a world without a single shred of freedom, without a single shred of hope.
Even when she had stumbled into a trap during transit, surrounded by assassins, pushed to the brink of death—she hadn't felt particularly afraid, nor had she felt she didn't want to die.
The person who appeared then was Eris.
A presence of fierce isolation.
Her movements were direct, yet no one could catch her—only the red hair remained, lingering in memory like an afterimage.
It was vivid.
At the time, the Divine Child hadn't understood what was happening.
"It's fine as long as the children are safe," Eris had said.
She didn't realize the "children" included herself until they had returned to the Church headquarters.
That was when she learned she had been saved.
And the Divine Child remembers.
Because she had looked into those eyes, she knew the name.
Eris.
That was her name—Eris.
She spoke it aloud, turning it over on her tongue, and in doing so felt a powerful longing for the Eris in her memory.
From that day on, the Divine Child had imitated her.
Every time she saw something impressive, she would exclaim in a loud voice of wonder.
Every time she decided on something, she would declare it loudly and clearly.
In short: brightly, energetically, and at full volume.
How long had it been since she started behaving that way?
She had never thought she would meet Eris again.
She wanted to, certainly—but she had never spoken that wish aloud.
She understood she didn't have the authority to do so.
But when she heard that Eris had come to Millis, the Divine Child could hold back no longer.
She had pleaded desperately with the Cardinals, the Pope, everyone she could.
She wanted to meet Sword King Eris.
They said the Mad Dog King was dangerous—but even so, she wanted to see her just once.
She wanted to say just one word of thanks.
That modest wish had been granted with surprising ease.
The experiment of bringing the dangerously volatile Mad Dog King Eris together with the Divine Child had been realized thanks to Rudeus's guarantee: "If anything happens, I'll take responsibility."
But now that Eris was actually standing before her, she didn't know what to say.
She felt it would be rude to rifle through the woman's memories, so she couldn't even meet her eyes.
"..."
Eris stood with her arms crossed before the Divine Child.
She had already finished introducing herself.
She had declared that she was Rudeus's wife, one of the Sword Kings.
After that, Therese had introduced herself, expressed her gratitude from before, and then—about five minutes had passed.
"Come on, we don't have all day."
Eris stood there properly, with good posture.
It was unusual for the short-tempered her, but this time Rudeus had been especially strict with her.
*"The person you're meeting this time is someone who helped me, you know. Don't be rude... She might say something a bit condescending, but whatever you do, don't punch her, okay?"* She was following the instructions.
But she was getting irritated.
She hated waiting.
"Can't you hurry up?"
"Y-yes!"
At those few curt words, the Divine Child sprang forward.
The fear of angering Eris had won out over her embarrassment.
"Um, I am the Divine Child! Thank you so much for saving my life before!"
"Before...? I don't remember that!"
"Huh?"
The Divine Child reflexively looked into Eris's eyes at those words, delivered in that loud, clear voice.
"...Ah."
And when she saw that her own existence was entirely absent from those memories, a sad expression surfaced on her face.
It couldn't be helped.
She had known that.
There was no reason Eris would remember.
But she had always held onto a sliver of hope—maybe, just maybe, Eris remembered a little.
Maybe she would say something like, "Oh, you've grown," about that time.
She had allowed herself to think that, because she herself cherished the memory so deeply.
But Eris, upon seeing her face and hearing about "before," hadn't recalled a thing.
Or perhaps, if one looked more carefully over a longer time, some fragment might remain in a corner of her memory...
But when Eris heard "before," the only thing in her mind was the memory of Therese holding young Rudeus on her lap, doting on him.
The Divine Child was the "Memory Divine Child."
She understood that memories worked that way.
But the shock was real regardless.
"But you helped Rudeus, didn't you! I'm grateful!"
From the tall, arms-crossed Eris came a brisk, cheerful voice.
The shock blown away by the sound of it, the Divine Child shook her head as if clearing her thoughts.
"No... helping Lady Eris's husband is only natural."
Even without the old memory, her admiration and gratitude had not changed.
To that, Eris pressed on.
"So, what's your name? Rudeus said he'd be in your care going forward, so I want to remember it!"
"Huh?"
A name.
She had no name.
The Divine Child had never found that to be a hardship before.
But now, when Eris was actually willing to remember it—she didn't have one.
She possessed nothing of importance.
And that felt like an enormous loss.
"Um... well..."
"The Divine Child is the Divine Child, right? Like Zenoba—it's not really a name, is it?"
At the word "Zenoba," the Divine Child found herself looking into Eris's eyes again.
Apparently, Divine Children from other countries did have names.
Eris herself didn't have much interest in those other Divine Children, so a name was about all she knew—but still, the Divine Child felt a small sting.
"You there!"
"The Divine Child is the Divine Child!"
"Are you mocking her?!"
"A name is unnecessary!"
"Where is your God?!"
But the commotion from the backdrop helped settle her.
She had never been inconvenienced by it before, and what didn't exist couldn't be helped.
She could accept that.
"I'm sorry. I don't have a name."
"Hmm... is that so?"
Eris didn't dwell on it.
Without meeting the woman's eyes, the Divine Child couldn't tell what she was thinking.
But had she looked, she would have seen the story of how Eris had discarded the name "Boreas."
"Well, names aren't really necessary."
Eris snorted once and declared it matter-of-factly.
The Divine Child felt relieved for the moment.
In all her life, this was the first time she had agonized over whether to look someone in the eye.
"Still, I'm surprised. I was told you weren't in Millis."
"Rudeus was getting scared again, so I came... but, you know, make it quick!"
She kept the teleportation magic circle a secret.
Even Eris understood that.
Of course, the Divine Child already knew about the teleportation magic circle, so she simply giggled.
"I see! Lady Eris, as expected!"
"Heh heh, obviously."
Eris's mood improved, and the atmosphere in the garden grew warm.
Seeing this, the Divine Child thought: this approach is working.
She would flatter Eris and further improve the atmosphere.
It was something the usual Divine Child would never have considered.
"M-My Lady, I've admired you for so long!"
"R-Really?"
"Yes! How can I become like Lady Eris!?"
There, Eris looked down at the Divine Child.
Her plump cheeks.
Her thick arms and legs.
That generally soft, unhealthy-looking body.
"You want to become like me?"
"Yes! I've always wanted to be as cool as you, Lady Eris—your way of speaking, everything... huh?"
Before she knew it— Before she knew it, Eris had drawn her sword.
Only two people in the room had been able to react.
Two of the Temple Knights, the most skilled swordsmen among them.
Those two had despaired the instant they perceived it.
Eris's sword was drawn.
They couldn't see the flash of the blade at all, but they felt the unmistakable sensation of something being cut.
Something was cut.
What?
That was obvious.
"You...!"
"How dare you—!"
What clattered to the ground was not the Divine Child's wrist—but a Barta tree branch roughly half the thickness of one.
"..."
"......"
Seeing that, the Temple Knights quietly returned to their roles as backdrop, as if nothing had happened.
Eris picked up the branch and tapped away the unnecessary twigs.
The Divine Child, meanwhile, found herself staring at the now-sheathed sword—what a magnificent blade, none of the Temple Knights had anything like it—while vaguely watching Eris's motions.
Before long, the branch had been stripped clean and become a rod about a hundred centimeters long.
"Here."
Eris handed it to the Divine Child.
"...?"
The Divine Child blinked in confusion. Eris turned sideways.
She switched the sword to both hands, raised it high overhead, and swung down.
A sharp, purifying sound rang through the silence.
"Try it."
"...Huh? Ah, yes."
The Divine Child imitated Eris, raising the wooden rod overhead.
Then, with a small "Haah!" she swung down.
But it was a hundred-centimeter wooden rod—not dried out, so it had considerable weight, its center of gravity was off, and the Divine Child stumbled forward, teetering.
The backdrop cried "Aaah!" at the sight, but let's leave that aside.
"Um, like Lady Eris, I—"
"Lower your hips more. Relax your elbows. Focus on moving with your back. Again."
"Y-yes!"
After that, the Divine Child continued swinging the wooden rod without quite understanding why.
Each time she swung, Eris offered advice.
"..."
"When you swing, make noise—one, two, one, two!"
"One, two, one, two!"
The Temple Knights didn't stop this.
They couldn't quite tell what was going on, but they could see that Eris wasn't harming the Divine Child, so they felt no urge to intervene.
It was also rather cute watching the Divine Child wave a stick around.
The captain tried to stop it at one point, but was held back by another retainer. In the end, it was just a background event.
"Haa... haa... Lady Eris..."
After surpassing thirty swings, the Divine Child's voice trembled.
"My arms... they're..."
"All right, that's enough. You can stop."
The Divine Child lowered the rod as told.
From her back down to her wrists, she felt a tingling exhaustion.
If she pressed her ear close, she might have heard her muscles creaking.
"Um..."
The Divine Child looked up at Eris with a worried face.
She didn't understand why she'd been made to swing a wooden rod.
She might have been tested.
She might have been found lacking.
Perhaps Eris was about to scold her: "Do you really think you can become like me with this?"
Sad feelings welled up inside her.
"Starting tomorrow, do this every day. Also, run around this garden. You can use this space."
"Huh?"
"If you don't know how, ask them."
Eris looked straight at the Divine Child.
The Divine Child, drawn in by those eyes, glimpsed Eris's memories.
What she saw was the grueling daily training at the Sword Sanctuary.
Swinging her sword without food or drink, running through snow, shouting, honing herself to a razor's edge.
"You can become like me."
Eris said it clearly and without hesitation.
Had Rudeus been there, he might have scratched his head and said, "Well, I wouldn't go that far..."
But Rudeus was not there.
The Divine Child turned and looked into Therese's eyes.
In Therese's memory were the marks of her own training.
In the depths of the other Temple Knights' eyes, there were memories of effort—less than Eris's, perhaps, but real.
She could do it. She could become like them.
It would surely be painful. No one had it easy.
But it could be done.
"Do you think... I could do it too?"
"I think it would be fine. Swords and magic aren't permitted, but physical training... I'm sure everyone here would be happy to teach you."
It was Therese who answered.
She had glanced at the backdrop while speaking, but quickly returned her gaze to the Divine Child.
Peering into her eyes, she spoke earnestly.
"However, I ask you to swear: if you are ever attacked by assassins, you must do nothing until we are all wiped out."
There, in Therese's memory, was the memory of a noble who had challenged an enemy with raw courage and died.
A kindness from Therese, saying: don't end up like this one.
"I swear. I swear upon Lady Millis."
The Divine Child nodded happily.
A warm, pleasant mood settled over the garden.
Perhaps drawn by it, the silver owl that had been wandering the garden returned.
Tilting its head, it looked up at the Divine Child and let out a single "Hoo."
"Oh... what is it?"
The Divine Child crouched down and extended her hand, and the silver owl thrust its forehead toward her, as if presenting an itchy spot.
When the Divine Child stroked it lightly with her nails, the owl's fluffy feathers stood on end, and it narrowed its eyes contentedly.
Eris watched this and felt a restless urge.
She adored the Beast Race.
But it wasn't limited to Beast Race people—any creature with fluffy fur would do.
Dogs and cats she got to touch often enough, but birds were another matter.
She could slash a flying bird out of the sky, but getting close to such a large bird without it fleeing was rare.
"...Hey, can I touch it too?"
"Of course!"
Having obtained permission, Eris crouched down with a huff.
The intensity of it made the silver owl flinch and retreat.
Eris stopped moving there.
"..."
Moving quickly at this point would ruin it. Beasts instinctively feared creatures faster and stronger than themselves.
If they were completely dominated, they would become obedient, but if you wanted to become friends, you couldn't let them think you were scary.
This was something Leo, Linia, and Pursena had told her—about how they'd completely dominated her in bed.
Slowly, languidly, Eris extended her hand and touched the silver owl.
From a distance the owl's feathers might have looked somewhat stiff, but they were soft, and Eris's spirits soared.
She wanted to hug it and bury her face in it right then and there—but that was too much.
Go that far, and they'd run. Leo had, Linia had, Pursena had.
But as long as she didn't go that far, it would be fine.
Thinking so, Eris petted the silver owl to her heart's content.
The owl was terrified, like an impala being toyed with by a tiger, but no one around seemed to care.
"Do you like it?"
"Owls are nice too."
After savoring that softness for a while, Eris stood with flushed cheeks.
Fur was nice, she reflected, but the softness of feathers was on another level.
Then, something caught Eris's attention.
"What's its name?"
"Huh? Its name?"
The Divine Child tilted her head at the question.
Indeed—its name.
"When you keep a pet, you're supposed to give it a name," Eris said.
"Is that so?"
"Mm. Rudeus told me that before."
The Divine Child was stumped.
When it came to names, she had never given one to anything—and she didn't have one herself.
She wasn't allowed to use her own name, but having one certainly would be convenient.
"A name..."
The Divine Child fell deep into troubled thought, and the backdrop began to panic.
I'll decide—no, I should, but the Divine Child should be the one to decide— "Eris, I'm back."
Just then, Rudeus returned to the garden.
Having finished his farewell with Cliff, he was feeling a bit sentimental.
But there was no time for sentimentality—what came next would be a battle.
I'm a robot. I must operate with the heart of a sentinel. He tightened his expression accordingly.
He surveyed the garden and tilted his head.
"Uh, what happened?"
"We've decided to give it a name."
"A name..."
Rudeus looked around the garden.
The troubled Divine Child, the flustered retainers, the new captain who seemed unable to grasp the situation.
Only Therese was simply smiling wryly.
He understood the situation immediately.
This would indeed be a dilemma.
And surely Eris hadn't meant any harm.
"Ah, how about having Lord Rudeus decide?"
The Divine Child made the suggestion.
She couldn't decide on her own, but surely Rudeus would be fine.
"Huh? Me? You sure?"
"Yes, absolutely."
At her words, Rudeus made a troubled face.
He compared Eris and the Divine Child.
He couldn't very well give it a bad name, but the suddenness of it left his mind drawing a blank.
"Then... how about Nurse."
"Nurse! What a lovely name! From today, your name is Nurse!"
The Divine Child crouched down and stroked the head of the silver owl at her feet.
Seeing this, Rudeus let out a small "Ah."
"Is something wrong?"
"No, it's nothing."
Rudeus averted his gaze from the Divine Child.
He looked away, guilt written all over his face.
Despite that, the Divine Child was satisfied.
She had met her beloved Eris, and the owl had been given a name. She also now knew what she needed to do starting tomorrow.
Today truly was a wonderful day.
"Lady Eris. Thank you so much today!"
"I'll come again. Next time, I'll take another look."
"Yes!"
Eris was satisfied too.
Just being able to touch the owl was enough.
The backdrop was satisfied as well.
There had been a tense moment when Eris drew her sword, but seeing how happy the Divine Child looked made it all worthwhile.
Starting tomorrow, they would teach her how to train her body, hands-on, step by step. All of them.
Only Rudeus kept glancing away with a "Oh crap" expression.
Only Therese noticed that look on Rudeus's face.
She had figured out exactly who he had been thinking of when he named the owl.
But she said nothing.
She simply smiled wryly.
The silver owl, Nurse, watched the scene with its head tilted.
And just like that, Eris gained yet another disciple.
Starting the next day, the Divine Child grew slimmer and slimmer, and the Temple Knights treated her with even more idol-like adoration than before—but that is another story.