I Will Be the Greatest Knight

Mention of death was precisely where Irene had been walking on eggshells when it came to Felix. She knew that if she mentioned the ones she lost, it would imply he had to talk about those he lost as well. It was easier to live alongside one another as two deeply scarred humans who silently acknowledged each other’s trauma and nothing more than that.

However, the ale made Felix conversational. Even though he seemed more lighthearted, it also made him more introspective.

It wasn’t the first time he used drinking late at night to soothe his wounds.

Irene looked down at the sword Felix mentioned. It was the arming sword she was given to replace the small dagger she used at first. She had grown since then, but it was still a suitable fit. She hadn’t grown much more while everyone else had far surpassed her in size—even Leif had before he passed.

"My sword is a better fit for me," she admitted. "The handle has been worn where I like to hold it. I... ah."

She resisted saying more. Would it make both of them sad? She didn’t want to put a damper on their mood that evening. Their first day of travel together seemed to have concluded positively, but this was taking it a step further.

There was a moment of pause, but then Felix filled the space with his curiosity.

"Go on," Felix urged as he sat up straighter. "What were you going to say?"

"I feel if I carry his sword too much, the leather grip won’t be molded to the shape of his hand any longer," she admitted softly. "I can’t bear to erase more traces of him from the world."

Felix somewhat regretted pushing her to answer. The words that escaped her lips caused his heart to clench.