"The administration office…? Not our usual room?"
Answering Milea's summons, Letaria Adeniam made her way to a wing of the Seldia Administration Bureau, the beating heart of the residential sector.
The corridor was tidier and more colorful than the vigilante corps and Syn-Fibra areas she moved through day to day.
The automatic door slid open. Inside stood Milea at a terminal, and beside her, an unfamiliar man. White hair, closely cropped and neatly kept; the administration bureau uniform worn with the ease of long habit. He was perhaps a hundred and seventy-five centimeters tall, with the bearing of someone who never quite lets their guard down.
"You must be Letaria-san. I've been hearing about you. My name is Martin Blaine—I handle logistics and coordination here at the bureau."
"Martin-sama. I am Letaria Adeniam."
Something in his manner told Letaria that this was a person of standing.
(A noble, perhaps?)
She stepped one foot back and dipped into a curtsy.
"And what is the reason for calling me somewhere so formal?"
Martin's expression was mild and warm. He gestured to the holographic display projected above the desk.
"Let's skip formality. I came today to thank you for something. …Specifically, for the food and seeds you gave to Milea-san."
When Letaria had been cast into this world, she had arrived with a few personal effects. Dried meat and dried fruit from home. And tucked into a corner of her belongings—a small envelope of seeds.
"Syn-Fibra's analysis found that those preserved foods carry exceptional nutritional value. We're currently investigating them as a base for food cloning—if that research yields results, the dietary quality of this residential sector will improve dramatically."
"…Naturally. As one would expect."
"And that's not all. Those seeds—flower seeds, yes? Much remains unknown about the plant, but extracted compounds showed unknown pharmacological effects—in particular, there are indications they may enhance the efficiency of medical nanomachines. Verification will be needed, but it is a genuinely remarkable discovery."
Martin held her gaze steadily.
"Do you know what this flower is called?"
"…Fluara. That was its name."
The familiar word on her tongue sent a small, quiet ache through her chest.
"I see. …Letaria-san—because of you, there are lives that will be saved. I am grateful."
"H-hmph. From my perspective, I simply wished to bring a little of home's fragrance with me. If it proves useful here, consider it a gift of my generosity. Ohohohoho!"
◆◆◆
The familiar laugh. But as Letaria left the administration bureau and walked on alone, something quiet had settled over her heart.
(…Fluara. The flower that grew in the manor garden. The one that healed wounds and calmed the spirit…)
A face surfaced in her mind. Chiara—her dedicated lady's maid.
In tears as Letaria was driven out—it must have been Chiara who had slipped those seeds into her belongings at the very last.
(Chiara… You were genuinely worried about me. In every sense of that word.)
Chiara's kindness—staying at her side until the end, even through all the arrogance she had endured. The small prayer folded into those seeds was now, here at the far edge of the universe, beginning to take root.
"…You truly were thinking of me."
She spoke it quietly, to no one.
That fact reached into the loneliness she had been carrying, and loosened something, just a little.
◆◆◆
The abandoned factory where Letaria had once woken in despair.
A re-investigation mission to the derelict facility that had served as the Blang raiders' base.
Commissioned by the administration bureau, Letaria once again took the controls of Arden, and alongside Grain and Steshia of the vigilante corps, plunged into the black void.
"…I did not expect to return here. Whatever glory this place may hold as the birthplace of my legend, the air is stale and disagreeable."
Letaria's voice from Arden's cockpit carried a note of distaste. The external cameras showed the factory further destroyed than before—wreckage laid bare to the stars.
"Sorry to drag you back, Letaria. I know this isn't somewhere you have fond memories of. But—as Martin told us: if the materials you brought in held that much value, there may be things we still don't know about hidden in this place."
Grain's machine Schuelle held steady beside Arden.
Mounted on its back, with a solid, weighty presence, was the prototype Photon Rifle that Grain had requested from Milea.
"…Well. If it's because you're relying on my ability, I won't complain. …Though I expect a thorough discussion about compensation afterward, if you don't mind."
"Heh. Tough terms. …Steshia, you're getting too far ahead. Watch for sensor noise."
"I know, Captain! But really—is there anything left here? This place looks like a completely empty scrapyard to me."
Steshia's machine slipped nimbly into the factory dock.
And the moment her cheerful words faded—
"…! What is this feeling…"
A chill moved through Letaria—something she couldn't name.
Her own magical energy. It was flowing into Arden… and through Arden, reaching out toward something within the factory—as though speaking to it.
As if in response to the force Letaria had unconsciously released, the factory's long-silent control systems began to stir.