Chapter 28: Formless Prayer

　Through a hole in the center of a round wooden disk, I alternately wove cotton threads arranged like spokes with finely drawn iron wire, creating a braided cord.

　Five days had passed since we began traveling north without stopping by day or night. The scenery had changed considerably.

　We changed horses and replenished food and supplies in the villages and towns along the road. As the wagon continued without rest, we made various tools to support Gilbert in battle.

　Sunlight streamed through the skylight, accompanied by wind rustling across the wheat fields. Barbara wound thread onto a spool while I wove the cord. Dolph drove, and Gilbert, unusually absorbed in his work, carved a piece of wood with chisels, knives, and files.

“There! Finished. Flora, this is my thanks for the meals you make every day. Please take it, if you like.”

　He placed in my hand a wooden brooch carved with many flowers. Its intricate beauty astonished me; it was difficult to believe it had been fashioned from a single piece of wood.

“It’s wonderful! Thank you so much. You’re remarkably skilled with your hands, Gilbert.”

　When I thanked him, Gilbert suddenly began acting strangely and retreated to a corner of the wagon.

“What’s wrong, Gilbert? You were unusually quiet, but you’ve made something impressive.”

“This is actually excellent rehabilitation.”

　Gilbert looked at his hand, repeatedly opening and closing it. No injury was visible on his dominant arm, but his grip was impaired.

　The cord I was making would attach to his axe to compensate for that weakness. It resembled a decorative braid woven around wire. Pulling the blade from a deep strike demanded grip strength. I didn’t know exactly how the cord would help, but I wove it tightly so it wouldn’t break.

“Lately, my body has felt remarkably light and strong.”

　Gilbert grasped a ceiling beam and began doing pull-ups.

“Naturally. You eat Flora’s cooking at least three times a day.”

“The delicious food has me in excellent condition.”

　I could prepare nothing elaborate while traveling, but everyone’s pleasure delighted me, so I had taken charge of every meal.

“The food isn’t merely delicious. It’s filled with blessings.”

“Blessings ……?”

　I looked up. Had I done anything special while cooking?

“Since ancient times, prayers offered for another’s protection have been called blessings. You’re always praying, Flora.”

“Cooking… is a prayer?”

　Barbara smiled.

“You probably don’t realize it, but everyone does the same. Kneeling before a statue of the Goddess isn’t the only form of prayer.”

　Barbara opened the window. A warm breeze entered, and across a distant field I saw a farmer pulling weeds. A small house passed through the moving landscape, with a woman sitting beneath its eaves and knitting.

“Whether farmer or craftsperson, everyone unconsciously holds a wish while creating something: that its recipient will be happy or find it useful. Many feelings go into the work. The same is true when you cook. You might say that you put love or your heart into the food.”

　Barbara smiled gently.

“Everything we do for another’s sake is a formless prayer. Since ancient times, we have believed that such deeds receive a blessing, which we call a selfless blessing. When those blessings take root and gather, something slightly wondrous may happen.”

　Barbara smiled and turned toward Gilbert.

“The same applies to the brooch you made.”

“Eh…?”

“You made it while thinking of Flora, didn’t you?”

“Well, of course that’s true, but…”

　My eyes met Gilbert’s as he mumbled hesitantly. His face grew redder and redder, and heat touched my own cheeks. A sweet, ticklish happiness filled me, and even the brooch in my palm seemed warm.

“And beyond that, I’m certain Flora is…”

　Before Barbara could finish, the wagon stopped to the horses’ alarmed neighing.

　Dolph peered through the little window behind the driver’s seat.

“We’re nearly at the next town, but something appears wrong.”

　Through the open window, I saw a small walled town ahead. Beyond it, several columns of black smoke rose into the sky.

　A thinner column of white smoke stood some distance away. Something within it glittered whenever it caught the sunlight.

“That resembles the smoke signals commonly used by the Royal Order of Knights…”

　Gilbert murmured, seized his battle-axe, and immediately headed for the driver’s bench.

“Barbara, Flora, we’re increasing our speed. Hold on!”

　At Dolph’s shout, the wagon jolted forward.

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