“It’s alright. We’ll stop here and search around this area. I heard that they’re often hidden under fallen leaves.”

The third princess and her maid diligently scoured the ground. It was at that moment. A small white butterfly fluttered before Giselle’s eyes, dancing and floating on the gentle breeze. It seemed to be playing with Giselle, riding the breeze as if to entice her.

“White... breeze...” Giselle unintentionally whispered. She looked up to Frieda, who was engrossed in mushroom hunting, unaware of Giselle’s change. Once the white butterfly was confident that it had caught Giselle’s attention, it fluttered a few metres ahead and took flight. Its movements seemed to convey that message.

“Wait, where are you going? Do you know where the mushroom is?” Giselle followed the white butterfly. Of course, butterflies didn’t acknowledge borders. The white butterfly crossed into the Armande Empire’s territory. As a significantly large, ancient tree came into view, the butterfly settled on its trunk.

“Well...” This was the first time Giselle had seen such an impressive, ancient tree. Even with her arms outstretched, she couldn’t even reach its girth, a dignified giant. The surface of the trunk was uneven, splitting into multiple trunks as it went higher, resembling the tines of a fork. The roots emerged from the ground, making the footing unstable. Giselle was drawn closer to the ancient tree as if by a magnet. She extended her hand, touching the rough surface of the wood. Even though she lived in this forest, this was her first time venturing this deep. To think such a place existed...

‘If I were to cross into Armande’s side, I’m sure I’d discover many things I’ve never known before... Unknown trees, unknown lakes, unknown people...’

With such thoughts in mind, she ran her fingers over the surface of the tree. Then, in a groove where the trunk split into two, she noticed something caught. At first, she thought it might be just some fallen leaves. But for some reason, her curiosity led her to reach out, and she realised it was a neatly folded piece of paper. Giselle retrieved the paper.

‘This is... a letter...?’

The white paper had its corners aligned so meticulously that it almost looked painful, folded into quarters. It wasn’t old, but rather quite new. It was as if someone had slipped this letter here last night, and you would believe it if you were told so.

Giselle held her breath as she slowly unfolded the paper. Neatly written with the same precision as the folds, there was a message composed in meticulous handwriting.

“To whomever this letter may or may not reach,

I do not know who this letter will reach or if it will reach anyone at all. Nevertheless, I couldn’t help but write it. Our Armande Empire is engulfed in an endless war with the Leopold Kingdom. Knights and soldiers lose their lives, women and children go hungry, and nature and historic structures are destroyed. What does anyone gain from this tragedy? As someone who commands many warriors, I am in a position where I must never utter such complaints. Therefore, I entrust these feelings in my heart to this letter. It’s a rather effeminate thing to do. I will leave this letter along the border with the Leopold Kingdom. I hope that someone among the Leopold people will notice it and come to understand that not all Armandeians are invaders or demons. That’s all. For many years, we have repeated wars and conflicts. Though it’s the destiny of two nations dividing the same island, isn’t there a way for coexistence? Praying that this letter reaches someone’s heart.

— From H”

“H…” It felt like she had peeked into someone’s innermost thoughts, and Giselle’s heart raced. Indeed, they were along the border. Giselle’s father ruled the Leopold Kingdom, which occupied the island’s northern half, while the Armande Empire controlled the southern half. They had a long history of conflict, but there had also been times of competition and coexistence. Yet, Giselle’s father and the Emperor of Armande were warlike individuals, and in recent years, localised conflicts escalated into a quagmire.

‘Someone who commands many warriors...? It couldn’t be a general... It must be a squad leader, perhaps...’

Giselle read the letter once more. She sensed the sincerity and intelligence of the writer. It was unlikely that an ordinary soldier would craft such an elegant piece of writing. They were probably a knight of some stature, serving in a commanding role. She didn’t know their face. She didn’t know their name. The anguish of an enemy knight from an unknown land weighed heavily on Giselle’s heart. She read through the letter again, pressing it against her chest. She, too, wished for peace. Of course, Giselle didn’t understand the struggles of the soldiers fighting on the front lines. However, when she visited the town, she sometimes saw the pain of widows, hungry children, and wounded soldiers who returned. As a princess, she felt responsible for not being able to stop her father’s recklessness.

‘Why is that…?’

Giselle felt an oddly strong connection to the sender of this letter. She carefully refolded it with utmost care and tucked it into a pocket within the lining of her cape.

“Lady Giselle! Where did you go? You shouldn’t go too far in!” Frieda’s voice echoed, and Giselle turned to look in the direction she had come from. Frieda was searching for Giselle. Her vision wasn’t particularly sharp.

“I’m here! Don’t worry; I’ll come over to you!” Calling out, Giselle started to return to Frieda. As she took a step, the movement of her boots rustled the fallen leaves on the ground, revealing a yellow-brown mushroom that popped up. Giselle stopped in her tracks. White wind. Finding what was sought...

“I found it! Frieda, I found what I was looking for!” Was it the mushroom? Or perhaps, was it the one she had yearned for, the one to share her soul with for so long...?

That night, beneath the swaying candle flames on the candlestick, Giselle secretly read the letter once again. The content of the letter was composed and calm. The handwriting was neat without any disarray, and there wasn’t much emotional content. Yet, Giselle felt as if the knight who wrote this letter was shouting from the depths of their heart, resonating through her eardrums painfully.

“Praying that this letter... reaches someone’s heart...” She whispered in a small voice so as not to wake Frieda sleeping in the adjacent room.

An idea crossed Giselle’s mind.

‘Should I... try writing a reply?’