She paused for a moment, letting the name "Melfield" and phrases like "closed the passage" and "turned the tide" sink into the minds of the refugees.

Then, her tone softened once more. "The heroes are fighting and bleeding on the front lines, buying us time and space. And we, here in the rear, must also do our best to maintain this hard-won order and ease the suffering."

Her gaze swept across the figures under the lean-to who had just been whispering, finally resting on the woman holding a child. Her tone softened slightly:

"I have come today on behalf of the Vilt Royal Family, and on my own behalf, to visit you all and see what I can do to make things even a little better."

She inclined her head slightly, motioning to the maids behind her.

The maids stepped forward, set down the several baskets they were carrying, and lifted the coarse cloth covering them.

Inside were neatly stacked loaves of relatively fresh rye bread, some clean strips of cloth, and a few small earthenware jars that gave off the faint scent of medicinal herbs.

"These are clean bandages and some simple salves for your wounds, which might help in an emergency. The bread is coarse, but I hope it can fill your stomachs for now," Elizabeth said, her gaze again meeting their startled and uncertain eyes. "I know this is far from enough. True resettlement, returning to your homes, and rebuilding your lives will take time. It will require coordination from the fortress, and for the war to be well and truly over. But please believe me, the Kingdom has not forgotten you. The Church Court and the fortress commanders are doing everything in their power to restore order and secure the basic necessities of life. And the foundation for all of this is the hope brought to us by Guardians like Lord Melfield."

She paused, as if choosing her words carefully. "I heard there was some chaos the day before yesterday that resulted in needless casualties... I am deeply pained by the tragedy that occurred. I can promise that I will urge the relevant authorities to do their best to improve the rationing and medical arrangements to prevent such a tragedy from happening again. We cannot fail the path to survival that our heroes have carved out for us with their swords and their blood."

The refugees under the lean-to were utterly stunned.

Food and medicine?

A promise of better conditions?

The Princess herself, visiting them?

Such things were far beyond their meager imaginations and past experiences.

Furthermore, her words constantly revolved around "Lord Melfield," inextricably linking their current plight to the Legendary Knight’s accomplishments. This left them with incredibly complex feelings.

The gaunt man’s mouth hung open, but no sound came out for a long moment. Unfamiliar words like "heroes," "hope," and "path to survival" echoed in his mind.

The white-haired old man stopped his kowtowing, his clouded eyes filled with disbelief.

The woman holding the child looked at the bread in the basket, then at Elizabeth’s clean, lovely face. She remembered their earlier talk of being "saved in passing," and her eyes suddenly reddened. Her lips trembled, and she finally choked out in a low voice, "It was... it was Lord Melfield... and you, Your Highness..."

"Your... Your Highness..." the white-haired old man finally managed, his voice trembling. He struggled but still managed a deep bow. "You... you and that great lord... does the Kingdom... truly still remember people like us... who have fled our homes?"

"Every subject of the Vilt Kingdom is a part of the Kingdom." Elizabeth looked at him earnestly, her tone firm. "Lord Melfield protects the Kingdom’s lands, and also every life upon those lands. No matter your origins or what misfortunes you have faced, as long as you still feel you belong to this land, then the Kingdom, and the Kingdom’s true Guardians, have a duty to protect you to the best of their ability. This is not charity. It is the response and appreciation all of us owe to that protection."

’A response... appreciation...’ the young man murmured, looking into Elizabeth’s clear eyes before his gaze drifted subconsciously toward the Central Tower. A storm of complex emotions churned within him, as if something were about to break through the surface.

Elizabeth did not linger.

She gestured for the maids to give the supplies to the families who appeared most in need. Then she murmured a few quiet instructions to the captain of her guard, telling him to keep an eye on this area and report anyone who was severely ill or injured.

Then, she gave a slight nod to the refugees under the lean-to. "Please take care of yourselves and support one another. It is in the darkest of times that we must hold on, precisely because there is a glimmer of light."

With that, she turned and, flanked by the Female Knight and her maids, walked down the path the soldiers had cleared, heading toward the next section of the camp.

The soldiers fell back into formation as she left, and the sound of their footsteps gradually faded into the distance.

Quiet returned to the area under the lean-to.

The people gathered around the few baskets of food and medicine, touching them gingerly.

The rustic scent of the bread mingled with the faint smell of herbs. In the foul air of the camp, it seemed impossibly precious.

"The Princess... and Lord Melfield..." the gaunt man murmured, his gaze following the distant, moon-white figure before shifting toward Eagle’s Beak Peak. "They’re... different."

"She said... the heroes bought us this path to survival... that we have to cherish it..." the woman said, clutching her child tightly. Tears fell onto the child’s face, and she wiped them away haphazardly with the back of her hand. Her gaze, however, was a little firmer than before.

The white-haired old man silently picked up a piece of bread, broke off a small corner, and placed it in his mouth, chewing slowly. The light in his clouded eyes seemed to shine a little brighter.

’A response to that protection...’ he repeated under his breath, looking down at his own calloused hands.

...