By Zephyria 
The roads of the Sierran Empire were very well-maintained.
Each territory varied slightly in appearance depending on the ruler’s personality and governing philosophy, but the preference for wide roads was the same.
Territories focused on agriculture tended to narrow the side paths to cultivate even a little more land, but it was common for areas near city centers to have roads wide enough for five carriages to pass at once.
Even though the hillside path we were currently taking led through a low, uninhabited hill, its width was enough for two carriages to pass each other.
Between the territories, wide clearings were scattered at intervals of roughly half a day’s journey.
These clearings were not managed by anyone in particular; they were formed by travelers who, whenever needed, would cut the grass, level the ground, and repeatedly build fires and cover them.
It was said that the internal clearing of Shierun Academy, where they spent most of their time hunting and camping, was created in a similar fashion. Each year, students would cut the grass near the clearing and break off branches to tidy it up for use during the semester.
Students of the next semester had to clear away the overgrown grass during the break before they could begin their term.
I dismounted from the carriage and looked around.
The capital of the Sierran Empire was located in the center of Shierun, and Ernhardt’s territory was situated to the south, about a week’s journey from the capital. The territory of Count Servel, where we were heading now, was located to the southeast of the capital.
Perhaps that was why. The plants, having grown with warm energy, had broader leaves and deeper colors than those in Ernhardt’s territory.
The number of Knights accompanying us on this trip was ten in total, and it was agreed that they would work in shifts of five once we arrived at the mansion. The other five would enjoy the resort during that time.
Since the servants and maids had agreed to work in a similar fashion, there were so many people that the wide clearing seemed small.
It was said that when embarking on such a long journey, it was customary to hang a large pot and cook stew. I stood beside the children, who had come to watch.
Three bonfires were lit at intervals, and large pots were placed securely on round iron stands. The stands, which supported the heavy pots with three legs without tipping over, seemed useful.
“What is this?”
“It’s well-boiled water with the vegetables, dried meat, and provisions we brought, seasoned with salt and spices. If you add a lot of dough made from flour, the broth thickens and tastes even better.”
“Brother, I want to try this!”
“Shall I help you taste it?”
“Would that be alright?”
“Of course.”
The chef placed a few raw-looking leafy vegetables and a little broth into a palm-sized bowl and presented it with a spoon.
I blew on the broth to cool it and let Asdel taste it first, then offered a spoonful to Michael.
When I tasted it, it was no different from a clear soup with vegetables and meat, and I liked it.
I knew well how difficult it was to get a proper bowl of hot soup outdoors like this.
With heartfelt gratitude, I thanked them, and the children chirped, saying it was delicious, good, and that they wanted to eat it quickly, making cute sounds.
The faces of the chef and those cooking bloomed with smiles.
After looking at the wildflowers with the children, I hurried my steps when called for a meal. I sat down with my family, just like the servants who had gathered with their companions.
Using only spoons, we scooped stew from the large bowls placed on the portable tables.
It was guksu (sujebi) that I had eaten after such a long time.
It would have been perfect if some lotus root or bamboo shoots were sliced and added to this soup. The familiar and nostalgic taste made me feel wistful, and I ended up overeating.
After finishing and asking for seconds twice, I ate three bowls before my stomach was full, and I put down my spoon.
After getting ready, we boarded the carriage again.
❖ ❖ ❖
Feeling drowsy from a full stomach, I drifted off to sleep amidst the children and woke up at night.
Having eaten a hearty lunch, we had a simpler meal at the restaurant on the first floor of the inn.
Asdel slept with his parents, and I decided to have Michael sleep with me.
His parents had hoped the whole family could spend the night in the same room, but there wasn’t a room that large.
Asdel had complained every time that it seemed I only took care of Michael, but after patiently explaining the separation of men and women, he turned away without listening and went back to his room.
The reality of what I was doing now was different from what I had imagined when I brought up the idea of a family trip.
I had envisioned a journey where the five of us, including myself, would ride in a carriage to a nice place for an outing, and I, being more accustomed to the outdoors, would break branches to start a fire and roast rabbits or wild boars hunted by others.
It was something I often did when returning to my family home from the Central Plains with young children.
Thinking about it now, it was absurd.
They were born to nobility and were accustomed to being served and cared for by many people; because their dispositions were kind, their conduct proper, and they were gentle, I often forgot this.
These experiences, which were closer to a luxurious outing than a trip, were all new and unfamiliar.
One thing was clear: I did not dislike it.
In the Central Plains, travel for me was synonymous with wandering.
Confident in my ability to protect myself, I would travel with just a sword at my waist. If I heard of a mountain with good scenery, I would go visit it; if a river was said to be beautiful, I would stand far away and gaze at it for a long time.
I didn’t often have much money, so I couldn’t eat good food.
Whenever I had business at the Martial Arts Alliance, I enjoyed passing the time with a cup of tea in a tall pavilion set up in front of Dongting Lake.
While sitting there, friends like Jegal and Moyong would approach boisterously, asking why I was moping, and order various dishes.
The eel dish was particularly famous at Dongting Lake. So, when I ate fried meatballs made from finely shaped white fish or red-spiced steamed eel, paired with Huajiu, I felt like I had nothing to envy in the world.
Someone had suggested we go on a long trip after the Heavenly Demon War ended, but I couldn’t quite remember if he was from Wudang or Mount Hua.
The friends I had made from the Five Great Clans were more dead than alive by the time the Heavenly Demon War began, so he was definitely one of the Nine Sects.
Holding Michael, who was whining about being sleepy, I entered the bedroom. For some reason, I felt like eating white fish. It was a little regrettable that I couldn’t drink alcohol because I was still too young.
That night, my dreams were filled with companions I had long forgotten.
I knew it was a dream when I saw Jegal’s hair, not graying, but black and shiny.
Moyong Amu-gae, with his pretty face, gently fanned himself with an umbrella hat and looked over at Ikyun. He was with his sister. Beside them, the fellows from Five Dragons and Three Peaks were beaming with their youthful faces.
Hwangbo and the Peng family, whose natures were simple but whose actions were rough and unrefined, and whom I had tried to avoid getting close to, were jumping and waving from over there.
As I took half a step forward, as if they were calling me, I felt something damp at my feet and stopped.
A dark river blocked the way between them and me.
“…Mm.”
I didn’t realize I could make a sound since I heard nothing, but the groan I let out unintentionally was as loud as thunder.
I looked down at the water lapping at my feet. Wondering if this was the Three Paths River spoken of in Buddhism, I looked around. Nothing was visible except the familiar faces standing on the other side of the river.
I had heard that near the Three Paths River, there stood a tree where one could hang their clothes and then old men and women would appear to gauge the karma accumulated during their lifetime.
It was a story told by the Dang family member who, upon realizing his death was near, suddenly decided to do good deeds and gave money to begging children.
Thinking this, I calmed the turmoil in my heart, wondering if this river was not the boundary between the living and the dead.
The thought of whether their side was the afterlife and mine the living world, or vice versa, bloomed and vanished like a dream.
The faces I missed were jumping, waving their arms, and gesturing.
One of them burst into tears, and seeing the hole in his chest, I thought, since they were appearing in my dream, why not show me smiling faces?
I focused my Eye Force to examine each of their faces.
Some were young, and some were old. I realized they all had the faces from the time we were closest, and a wave of longing washed over me.
Suddenly, I knew. The one who had whined about going on a martial world tour after the war ended was the Wudang fellow. I smiled wryly. He had died a fortnight before me.
I took half a step back.
The ones who had been gesturing to call me lowered their arms. The one who was crying laughed, and the one who was laughing cried.
All the time spent with them was precious, but my spiritual cultivation was not so shallow as to be swayed by such illusions.
I now knew that the past should remain in the past to be beautiful, and that living in the present makes the current worthwhile.
The only regret was that no one stood on this side of the river in my dream.
I died an ordinary death, but I was reborn into a good land. Wouldn’t it be nice if one or two of my acquaintances also found such fortune?
Then, splash. I heard the sound of water.
Someone had jumped into the river. The figure swimming towards me was obscured by the dark shadow. Just as I tried to look closer, I woke up from my dream.
…I tried to dismiss it as just a bad dream, a waste of time. Yet, a part of my heart felt restless.
Stirred by this, I kissed Michael’s forehead as he woke up and patted his back. His sweet, even breathing reached my ears.
What I had to protect was here, in Shierun.
I felt no guilt whatsoever for the me in the dream who had not taken a single step forward.