A year drifted past since that first meeting.
My life settled into a humble, predictable rhythm. In the mornings, I tended the fields with my father, and once the labor was spent, I made my way to the forge to receive instruction in the sword from Sir Ector.
During that time, I achieved a significant milestone: I learned to manifest and circulate my own Magical Energy. Sir Kay had grumbled, questioning how he was supposed to best me if I added the weight of Mystery to my strikes, but he fell silent quickly enough when I reminded him of how many training sessions he had shirked.
Today, having finished my duties in the soil, I arrived at the smithy to find Artoria still immersed in her drills.
"Greetings, Artoria."
At the sound of my voice, she turned her head, her gaze steady and focused.
"You have arrived, Eli."
"I told you, there is no need for such formality between us."
Artoria and I were of the same age. I had long since insisted she speak to me as a peer, and she had granted me the same leave. Yet, I remained the only one who made use of it.
"I find this manner of speech more natural, so I shall maintain it," she replied stoically.
"Hah... well, if you insist. Where is Brother Kay?"
"He claimed he had no desire to endure Sir Ector's drills today and fled."
"Typical... does he not realize he'll be the death of himself? The old man will have his head for skipping again."
Artoria nodded, her expression darkening with somber agreement.
"Indeed. Sir Ector has already declared that he shall 're-educate' him upon his return."
"Heaven help him..."
I recalled a previous occasion when Kay had abandoned his training to dally with the village girls, only to be caught by Sir Ector. The 'education' that followed was a thrashing so severe it bordered on the lethal. Even in this Age of Gods, where the air thrums with Ether and wounds mend with preternatural speed, it had taken Kay four days before he could even rise from his bed. The memory alone sent a chill down my spine.
Still, I suppose that is simply the weight of his own karma.
"So, Eli. What is the meaning of that bundle in your hand?"
"Ah, right. I tried my hand at cooking today. I brought some for you. Would you like a taste?"
"...A dish prepared by your own hand, Eli?" Artoria asked, her voice tinged with a faint, uncharacteristic trace of trepidation.
I let out a soft laugh. No doubt she was remembering Brother Kay's 'hand-crafted' meals. The slop he had served yesterday was a transgression against the very concept of sustenance—and I do not mean that as a compliment. Seeing her transparent concern, I smiled and began to unfurl the cloth.
"Fear not. I am not Kay."
As the cloth fell away, the rich, savory aroma of butter wafted through the air. Artoria visibly swallowed, her eyes widening.
"Observe, and know the truth. This... is 'Cuisine.'"
"Ohh...!"
I had borrowed the dramatic flair of a certain golden king from my memories. I almost expected to hear a distant cry of 'Onore!' echoing from the void, but I dismissed the thought. Inside the basket lay golden, glistening potatoes, their existence punctuated by the mouth-watering scent of butter and herbs.
"I had intended to share these with Brother Kay as well, but since he's decided to play truant, let us simply finish them ourselves."
"A wise proposal," Artoria replied without a moment's hesitation, utterly abandoning her foster brother. It was a pity for Kay, truly, but the sight of her eagerness was far too charming to ignore.
I handed her a wooden plate, and she stared down at the buttered potatoes as if they were holy relics. After testing one tentatively with her fork, she brought it to her lips.
"...!!!"
The perfect harmony of savory butter and the subtle sweetness of sugar burst upon her palate. Her eyes grew round, and that singular, expressive lock of hair atop her head—her 'ahoge'—stood perfectly upright. Without another word, she began to devour the contents of the plate with startling speed.
I watched in mild bewilderment as she finished the portion in an instant and held out the empty plate toward me. I piled it high once more. As she ate, her face transformed into a mask of pure, unadulterated bliss. Her ahoge began to wag back and forth, much like the tail of a delighted pup. A chuckle escaped me, and I found myself reaching out toward her head.
The silk-like texture of her golden hair met my fingertips.
I gently patted her head.
"—Eh...?" she gasped, freezing in place.
"Ah."
Overcome by the sheer, heart-striking cuteness of the moment, I had acted on impulse. I retracted my hand hurriedly, but the deed was done. Artoria's face flushed a vivid, brilliant crimson as the realization of my gesture dawned on her. Even her embarrassment was endearing... No, that isn't the point!
"—Forgive me. You were simply so charming, I found myself patting your head without thinking."
"Uu... uuuu..."
Her face only deepened in hue at my explanation. Had I... had I made a grave tactical error?
***
When Artoria had first met Elius, she had viewed him merely as another student to share in her training. Though she was curious that Sir Ector had brought him, she did not dwell on it. Concern for others was a luxury afforded only to those with spare time, and between Sir Ector's martial lessons and the dream-visions of kingship she endured at night, she had no leisure to spare.
However, that indifference had shattered very early on.
Sir Ector had ordered a sparring match between Elius and her foster brother, Kay.
"Kay, Elius... bah, the name is too long. Eli, then. Kay, duel him so I can see the lad's mettle."
"What? You want me to spar with this city-slicker brat? Have you gone mad, Father— Gah!"
Sir Ector's massive fist collided with Kay's skull.
"Watch your tongue, boy!" Ector barked as Kay clutched his head in agony. "Just do it. He's likely better than you despite his looks."
Kay's expression shifted to one of intrigued arrogance. "Ho... very well. You are Elius, yes? My name is Kay. Come at me!"
"With pleasure," Elius replied calmly.
Artoria had watched as he picked up a discarded practice sword. She was immediately struck by his stance. Despite claiming to be a novice, he held himself without a single opening. Kay, too, seemed to realize the gravity of the opponent before him.
"You... did you truly just pick up a blade for the first time? This posture..."
"One should not judge based on appearances alone," Elius replied coolly. "As you are my senior in age, I shall call you Brother Kay. Now... please, lead the way."
"H-Hahaha! Splendid! Let us begin!"
The duel commenced with a thrust from Kay. Artoria watched the wooden blades collide in silence. Kay began to channel his Magical Energy, his strikes growing faster and heavier with the reinforcement of his prana. It was a flurry of sharp, aggressive blows.
Yet, Kay could not break his defense. Elius parried every strike, finding small windows to counter-attack. The most shocking realization was that Elius was not using any Magical Energy at all.
The gap between one who reinforces their body with Mystery and one who does not is usually an insurmountable wall. Reaction speed, kinetic vision, and raw power—everything is heightened by Od. In this world, the one with magecraft almost always claims victory.
Yet here was a boy with the purely human body of a mundane youth, parrying, dodging, and striking back against a reinforced opponent through sheer, transcendental swordsmanship alone.
It was, quite simply, miraculous.
"This... this makes no sense!" Kay shouted, his face etched with disbelief. Artoria felt her own expression mirrored his.
Before she knew it, the tip of Elius's wooden sword was resting against Kay's throat. A single bead of sweat rolled down Elius's cheek.
"Do you yield?"
"...Aye. A total defeat."
Artoria felt her heart hammering violently against her ribs. Elius's dark hair, the color of a midnight sky, shimmered in the sunlight, dampened by the sweat of exertion. His eyes were as clear and sparkling as a sun-drenched lake. And then, he smiled.
In that singular moment, the young girl felt the world tilt. It was the moment she had fallen in love.