When Hildebrand opened her eyes, she was treated to the beautiful sight of the sun over the bustling crowds of the capital city of Hess, Kesselberg. It seemed like just moments ago the only sounds in the city were cries of the wounded and dying, and the shouts of bloodlusted warriors. The only light was from the burning buildings, like candles in the endless night sky. But now, in the warm light of the gentle sun, the only sounds were the laughter of happy families, calls from vendors to try the latest goods, and the shouts of newsboys selling good news.

Hildebrand spotted Hugo slowly pacing by the fountain the middle of the town square. While not the largest city, Kesselberg was built into the side of a mountain. That made it an impressive sight to behold, and the town square was the perfect place to gaze up and down the vertical city. In a busy city like Kesselberg, the idle Hugo stood out from the busy passersby. Hildebrand could see him as she climbed over the top of the stairs.

As impressive as the verticality of Kesselberg was, the stairs were torturous, especially in the heavy, woven robes that the Saintess traditionally wore. It was neither ornate nor elegant in simplicity. If she hadn’t cut out the neckline to open it up, she would have died of the heat long ago. But the oversized, blackwood rosaries, said to be proof of the Saintess’s piety and service to the gods, were like heavy iron chains she simply couldn’t shed. Hildebrand climbed to the top and sighed lightly, maintaining her saintly image. Even though her knees still creaked from years of running around battlefields, she kept her mouth shut to quiet her tired grunts.

“Hugo!” she sang with the voice of an angel, waving to him. That was the greeting she wanted to give him. It was why Hildebrand climbed the stairs rather than just pop into existence beside him.

The fearsome, burning stare he had given her when they fought was now just a smoldering ember peeking through his messy hair, and even that ember seemed to die when she stood before him. His hair had grown even wilder and messier during his travels. He almost looked like a vagrant. She had taken away his one dragon eye, hoping to catch a clear glimpse of his original sea-green eyes, but his bangs veiled both eyes now.

“How was it?” Hildebrand asked, her voice softening. “This world.”

Hugo looked down and touched his chin in brief contemplation. “It was good,” he said.

“Are you ready to accept it?” she asked him.

“Is it up to me?” he asked.

Hildebrand opened her mouth with a word on the tip of her tongue. She didn’t want to say. She shut her mouth and tried to smile, but the Saintess Smile died on her face.

“Was there something you didn’t like?” she quietly asked.

He didn’t answer either. He simply offered his open hand.

“Let’s go,” he said.

Hildebrand hesitated for a moment, trying to decipher what his unknown answer meant.

"Okay," she said, accepting his hand like a lady, palm down to his palm up. But then Hildebrand flipped their hands over, taking the lead. "I'll give you a guided tour."

***

The first stop was Gregorius Legato, Hugo’s closest friend.

His household resided a kingdom over from Hess, to the south. Greg, the illegitimate son of a nobleman and a concubine, was embroiled in a battle for succession when the heir apparent of House Legato was corrupted by the black mold that spilled out from the World’s End. The eldest Legato son’s corruption and eventual death at the patriarch’s hands tore the family apart. The mad patriarch declared the new head of the house would be whichever child had the strength to claim it, shortly before taking his own life to signal the start of the battle for succession.

“He had it rough, didn’t he?” asked Hildebrand.

“Yeah,” Hugo answered. “You two knew each other pretty well.”

“Not really,” said Hildebrand.

She just knew his story. She had to, otherwise he would be unbearable. Hidden beneath that innocent and naive act was a womanizer. If Hildebrand had to describe him, he was like a fluffy white dog that acted friendly to everyone, especially women. But if anyone tried to touch that fluffy white cloud, he would simply disappear, only to reappear elsewhere. Knowing he had suffered made it a little easier to tolerate such a flighty man.

“I never liked him,” Hildebrand said.

“I remember you cried when I told you what happened to him,” said Hugo.

“No I didn’t!” Hildebrand countered.

So what if Greg’s mother tried to use him and his talent for the sword as mere tools to gain power in the battle for succession? So what if Greg cut the tendons in his right arm and surrendered his talent because he was too tender-hearted to hurt his siblings? So what if he left his family in disgrace, abandoned even by the one person who should have protected him? And so what if he only attended Helmsgrave Academy because he was essentially exiled there? Didn’t everyone have a sob story? Hildebrand brushed her eyes, only to find Hugo staring at her.

“I didn’t,” she said. “I never cried.”

Hugo smiled and rang the bell at the gates. It wasn’t a large estate, far from it, but it was better than being ousted from home. A short while later, a well-groomed, clean-cut young man came to the gates.

“Hugo,” Greg answered. He wore a mild, polite smile on his face. Not like the beaming grin he often shared with Hugo. When they were together, they were the sun and its reflection. Or they should have been. “It’s good to see you,” he said.

“Greg,” Hugo replied. “Good to see you too.” They simply shook hands.

Greg greeted Hildebrand with a, “Hello,” placing his hand on chest and bowing slightly to her. “I’m Gregorius, of the House of Legato.”

“Hello,” Hildebrand answered with a modest curtsy. “I’m Hildebrand.”

“Is your father well?” Hugo asked.

Greg nodded politely. “Yes, of course,” he said.

Of course he was. Hildebrand made sure of that.

“How’s Alex?” Hugo asked.

“Alexandros is fine,” Greg answered. “He’s been busy lately.”

“…”

“…”

“…”

The only sound for minutes was the soft shuffling of tired feet and the crinkling and brushing clothes by idle hands. All Hugo had to say at the end of that long silence was, “Nice weather,” and “Nice pin.” It was a brooch, not a pin. It was a brooch of a wolf with sapphire eyes, wreathed by laurels.

It was hard for Hildebrand to keep up her trademark Saintess Smile for so long in the air of a stale conversation. She was starting to feel like a porcelain doll, one that would shatter explosively if she had to deal with them any longer.

Hildebrand had never seen a case where both Hugo and Greg didn’t know what to say. She had expected them to at least crack a joke at her expense. It was worse than when they met earlier. They were averting their gazes now, like strangers forced together.

Hildebrand inched closer to Hugo and nudged him with her elbow when she saw an opening.

“What are you doing?” Hildebrand whispered.

“What?” Hugo loudly asked. He knew what tact was, that was why he was answering loudly enough to get Greg’s attention.

Hildebrand performed a soft, breathy giggle. “Gentleman, perhaps we could explore the town?” she asked, as sweetly as possible.

“Oh,” Greg muttered. “Of course.”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

***

The House Legato, a family of distinguished knights, held a modest estate nestled in the burgeoning suburbs of the city. Their moderate affluence actually exceeded the expectations of a young noble household. The bustling heart of the city was a short carriage ride away—or a comfortable stroll for those with good knees. Unfortunately for Hildebrand, Greg opted for the latter.

But it gave her a chance to speak with Hugo.

“Hey,” she said, pulling Hugo back to her. “Aren’t you being a little cold to Greg?”

“Why?” he asked.

“You barely had anything to say to him,” Hildebrand grumbled under her breath. “And where’s the hug?”

“The hug?” Hugo asked.

“You two always hug whenever you see each other,” she said.

“Like this,” Hildebrand said. She opened her arms as wide as she could towards Hugo, who suddenly stepped forward with his arms open.

“Hey!” she yelled, wrapping her arms around herself like she was being attacked. She had simply meant to demonstrate, maybe to mock.

Greg turned to look at the commotion, but Hildebrand’s Saintess Smile warded off his concern.

“It wasn’t an invitation,” she yelled in a hushed voice, wagging her finger in Hugo’s face. She crossed her arms and like she was pressing the air out of her lungs, she huffed through her nose. “Why would you want to hug me anyway?” She knew why. Annoying her was almost like a ritual for him. They had only interacted from time to time throughout their adventures, but Hugo was so good at it, it was like they had been enemies in a past life.

Hugo simply shrugged, like it was nothing unusual.

Even if it was a petty act of resistance or a prank, it was too naïve to hug a bitter enemy. Hildebrand rolled her eyes and grimaced at a passing carriage, which just happened to stop as her ugly expression peaked.

Uh-oh, she thought. She knew firsthand that making faces at nobles wasn’t a good idea. They wouldn’t even hesitate to beat a child for it.

She scrambled to put on her best smile, trying to rub away the crooked expression that emerged from bitter memories.

A tall gentleman stepped out with barely tamed blonde hair. His black jacket with silver epaulettes and buttons, and the red sash underlying a shoulder cape of the same color revealed his status as a military officer. And the quality of those accessories revealed his status as an aristocrat, particularly the cape brooch with a relief of a wolf with glowing sapphire eyes encircled by a wreath.

He approached briskly, the shadow of his imposing figure lunging forward in advance. It almost made Hildebrand take a step back. His grim gaze seemed locked onto her. But even when he was right in front of her, Hildebrand maintained her Saintess smile.

“Good day, sir,” she said, her voice carrying a carefully measured gentleness. She curtsied perfectly, unlike she had with Greg.

Hugo stepped in front of Hildebrand to face the man.

“Do you need something?” Hugo asked.

“Yes,” answered the man, peeking past Hugo with deep, dark blue eyes, like Greg’s. “I have business with this angel,” he said.

A “Huh?” escaped Hildebrand’s mouth.

The aristocrat brushed Hugo aside and held his hand over his chest and bowed, deeply, respectfully. He took Hildebrand’s hand with white gloved hands.

“My lovely angel,” he said. “Would you be so kind as to become the future Baroness of House Legato?”

Another undignified “Huh?” almost escaped Hildebrand’s mouth, but she bit her tongue. If she didn’t, she feared she might inevitably spit in the man’s face.

“I’m afraid I’m a holy woman,” she said.

“Yes,” said the noble. “These lowly eyes of mine have witnessed your divine presence.”

He gently touched his lips to the back of her hand, ever so slightly.

“I’m a sinful man for daring to gaze upon a goddess,” he said.

Hildebrand gently pulled her hand away, as gently as her Saintess Smile faded. “That’s blasphemy, you know,” she said.

“Brother,” said Greg. “Stop it. You’re bothering her.”

“Ah!” The man, Greg’s brother, stood and held Hildebrand’s hands. “You’re my brother’s friend! Of course, our lovely little boy would be friends with an angel.”

“She’s not much of an angel,” remarked Hugo. “More like a demon.” He chuckled, and Greg seemed to quietly join in. That was more like it. Things weren’t quite right unless they were up to no good.

“But,” Hugo said, “she’s not someone you can just bother, Alexandros.”

“I remember you,” Alexandros said, turning now to Hugo. “Hugo, wasn’t it? It’s been quite some time.”

“Actually, have we ever met?” Hugo asked with a crooked, forced smile.

“I’m Alexandros Legato,” said Greg’s brother with oozing sarcasm. He offered a limp hand, a sign of his open disrespect. “My friends call me Alex,” he growled. “But you may have the pleasure of calling me Alexandros.”

“Hugo,” said Hugo, taking the hand. “I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but I’d rather say it was a pleasure knowing you.”

Rather than shake, they openly engaged in a battle of grips from which neither backed down. Unlike the slim and athletic Greg, Alexandros had a more masculine build, equal to if not mightier than Hugo’s. Hildebrand could understand why the Legato house was nearly in ruins after hunting down the corrupted Alexandros.

“Gentleman, please,” Hildebrand said, gently separating their hands. Alexandros listened obediently, but Hugo needed a light rap on the fingers to release his grip.

“Well, the Hero should be this tough,” Alexandros said, shaking his hand. “But you should treat ladies with some grace, you boor. Calling an angel a demon is downright absurd.”

That’s right, Hildebrand thought, nodding along to Alex’s words.

“Please don’t mind him,” Hildebrand said. “Hugo has a modern sense of humor. Very equitable.”

Hugo simply grunted. “You’re one to speak, Alexandros,” Hugo said. “Do you really think you should be touching an ‘angel’ with those dirty hands?”

“I’m one to speak?” Alex said, gesturing to himself. “You have a fiancé and here you are, running around with a beauty! A demon? I’m sure she is! In be—”

“Hey,” Hildebrand growled. “Watch your tongue.”

“Careful, Hilde,” Hugo said. “This ‘man’ is more like a beast. A perverted beast. He’s a perv—“

Hildebrand pointed a finger in Hugo’s face, which finally silenced him.

“Ahem,” said Alexandros. “I apologize, my fair maiden. I was simply mocking this boor’s—”

“Enough,” Hildebrand declared. “We’ll take our leave, Sir Alexandros.”

“Please wait a moment,” said Alexandros. “If you’re all headed into town, I’d love to join you. If you’ll have me.” That was what he said, but he was already tossing his jacket and cape into his carriage, and instead retrieving a less assuming long coat, obviously made for a day out.

Before anyone could even reject or accept his company, he had led them to a lively marketplace. Hildebrand simply nodded at his incessant chattering on and on about the uninteresting affairs and gossip of the aristocracy. She knew not and cared not.

Unlike the noble knight she had once imagined from Hugo’s stories, the squawking bird next to her was a silly oaf of a man. She glanced over at him and only caught the sight of his big, chattering tongue.

The rotting mold that corrupted him in the past world was called the Black Carpet. It was a silly name, one coined by Hildebrand’s own mistake. It was a mistake she regretted greatly; it was just an offhand comment, an idle observation. But her status as the Saintess turned the commentary into a universal name.

She had thought it was unfitting for Greg’s beloved and heroic brother, but now she thought, A silly end for a silly man. She didn’t regret coining the name Black Carpet so much now.

If there was one name she still regretted, though, it was the Forsaken Ones—a popular title for those like Alexandros who were afflicted by the Black Carpet. She hadn’t coined it or even popularized it, but she hated it. As much as Alexandros annoyed her, he didn’t deserve to be abandoned and renounced by his family or humanity. The Saintess wouldn’t forsake anyone. But Alexandros was determined to test Hildebrand’s patience.

“When are you going to stop talking?” she mindlessly muttered out.

“Did you say something?” Alexandros asked.

“Nothing, I just thought something smelled delicious!”

“I know a wonderful patisserie,” Alexandros said. “It’s quite popular with the ladies, so popular that it’s difficult to find a seat. But I can-“

“Actually,” Hildebrand said, stepping away from the group. “Street food is fine.” She pointed to a shop with a blue banner. She declared, “We’ll meet there in an hour,” before slipping away into the torrential crowd.

She knew her way through a tough crowd, unlike the tall and barbaric Alexandros, or Hugo and Greg. It was like second nature to Hildebrand. And so was enjoying lovely delicacies like roasted entrails and trimmings. She paid the steep ransom of five precious copper coins for two skewers of offal and vegetables. Even to her surprise, it was a salty treat.

She squealed, “Mmm!”

She had almost forgotten how much more bountiful this world was, even though it was by her own wishes. Even something like an offal skewer was a treat in the past world. Meat was a luxury for most commoners. The Black Carpet tainted and corrupted grazing animals much more easily than predators or humans. The fact that salt could keep the spread of the Black Carpet at bay made it a special treat for commoners and a lofty dream for the poor. Even though it was mined at new record amounts every year, it was the tool and luxury of soldiers and nobles first and foremost.

If I could have eaten like this every day… thought Hildebrand. For a moment her conviction wavered, but it was a conviction built on much more than just mere hunger.

Hildebrand lowered her eyes in shame for being weak, only to find a young girl looking up at her with curious eyes.

The girl wasn’t poor, no one was poor in the new world, even if they had less than others. She wasn’t dirty, or starving, or desperate. No one would have to live like that in paradise.

“Are you lost?” asked Hildebrand. The girl nodded. Just lost.

“Do you want one?” asked Hildebrand. The girl nodded once again. She was just curious about the skewer.

Hildebrand offered a skewer with one hand and help with the other.

“Are you here with your parents?” Hildebrand asked.

“My mom.”

“Shall we look for her?” Hildebrand asked, whisking the girl up into her arms.

She was small enough to carry but big enough to be heavy. But even with her creaking, war-torn knees, Hildebrand found the weight of one girl to be bearable.

“Hilde,” Hugo called out.

He slipped between people so easily with his well-built physique that Hildebrand wouldn’t have been surprised if he was secretly an assassin or the knight of a secret order. It would have explained why he was a good match with Yuna, the assassin.

While it wasn’t exactly like she was trying to escape pursuers, Hildebrand gave them the slip. She was, in her own words, an “expert” at it, not that she ever told anyone that. Neither guards, nor knights, or even seasoned thieves could catch her. The fact that she had glowing white-blonde hair and sparkling blue, jewel eyes and still eluded discovery when she wanted was a testament to her skills. She could disappear into a temple and stump clergymen who knew it like the back of their hands; she had done that on more than one occasion when she first joined the Church of Altamea.

“How did you find me?” Hildebrand asked.

“I just followed you,” Hugo said, as if it were just a matter of fact, something so simple it didn’t need an explanation. “What happened to the guided tour?” he asked.

“Hah!” Hildebrand answered wryly, “I needed a lunch break. And I had to help this little cutie.” She gestured to the girl.

“Lost her parents?” Hugo asked.

Hildebrand and the girl nodded.

“I’ll find them,” Hugo said. “You know where to meet.” And just like that, he vanished, so fast even Hildebrand was stumped. That was one more thing that annoyed her.