From birth, the girl possessed an insight unlike ordinary people.
She believed that footsteps could convey emotions—
For example, the lively sound of bustling footsteps.
For example, the prayer-like quietness of footsteps.
For example, the footsteps that faintly revealed sadness amidst the noise.
Because people never thought that footsteps would leak secrets, they would express their feelings more candidly through them.
For a girl who was not good at conversing with others, footsteps might help her understand a person better than talking.
The Blackmore clan of gravekeepers.
In her childhood, she was told this was the family name.
They were the guardians of the first king's grave and also bore the responsibility of protecting the foundation of Britain.
Honor, bloodline, country, first king.
The child often heard these words from her parents, which deeply instilled a sense of reverence.
Although the young girl did not understand why it was so.
However, as long as she offered prayers to the first king, her parents would show gentle and loving smiles of satisfaction.
This reason was enough for a child.
The other children in the village are like this, and so are their parents and grandparents. This is a common sense that has operated in the family for thousands of years; it is taken for granted.
The former king offered everything to Britain. The Britons should pledge their loyalty to the first king.
Their survival to this day is entirely due to the great achievements made possible by the former king's sacrifice. The former king has grace towards everyone.
People are born indebted to the former king.
Yet the king has never asked for anything in return.
"—Do not ask, but do.
Do not ask what the great former king can bestow upon you, but think about what you can do for Britain and the former king."
This is the admonition often spoken by the village elder.
The young girl does not understand these matters.
The grand epics from ancient times and the many deeds of the former king seem too dazzling to her.
It feels like looking at the sun, something unreachable.
The elders say their clan has inherited the bloodline of the king.
However, the girl feels no connection.
She looks up to the former king and the knights with awe, offering her faith just like the other children.
In fact, the grave-keeping clan has little to do.
Their only task is to watch over this cemetery. Aside from that, they live in peace and tranquility.
If it were truly like this, there would be no problems.
The girl would be like the other clansmen.
She would come to understand more of the family history as she grows, eventually becoming a strong and excellent grave keeper.
However—
It is unclear when it began.
Perhaps around the age of six or seven.
The girl's golden hair gradually transformed into beautiful silver hair, and her eyes became as flawless as blue sapphires.
The first feeling was fear.
Any child experiencing such a transformation would seek help from their parents.
At first, everything seemed normal.
"Gray… don't be afraid… Grandma and Elder Bersac will surely find the reason! May the king above protect my daughter!"
At that time, her parents were worried about the girl's transformation.
They still regarded her as their daughter.
However, when Grandma and the Elder provided their conclusion, the people's reactions were so strange.
Everyone was trying hard to suppress their ecstasy.
The worried gazes that had been directed at her changed.
Even her parents were the same.
"Child, how fortunate you are! Your beauty is undoubtedly that of the ancestor of the Blackmore clan, the great queen who accompanied the former king! The king's grace! The king's grace!"
The girl looked at the elders kneeling before her.
Not just one person, but all the clansmen surrounding the altar were moved to tears. Clearly, everyone's gaze was on her, yet no one was truly looking at her.
That was not the gaze of someone looking at a child.
"Dad… Mom… what is happening…"
The girl called out as if seeking help.
However, the love in her parents' eyes had vanished, leaving only the purest reverence.
As if they were looking at something sacred.
Not at their daughter.
From that moment on, everything changed.
The footsteps of her parents, once filled with love and care, gradually transformed into footsteps offering praise to something sacred.
Those footsteps would always stumble over things.
But they sounded cheerful.
They became footsteps filled with devotion, as if they could touch the divine.
"Ah… Gray, the king has blessed us, bestowing such honor upon our family. My loyalty and soul belong to the king; I shall offer blood and flesh for Britain. We will welcome the queen as per our ancestral teachings, and we will never disappoint the former king's expectations…"
Every night, she could hear her parents' holy prayers.
The clan had long passed down the teaching that the king would eventually return; they, the grave-keeping clan, were waiting for this moment.
"Mom… I'm so scared… Am I going to become… another person I don't recognize…"
"No, no, no, how could you think that? This is a blessing, this is love. As the divine child, this is our clan's glory. There's no need to be afraid; you were born to become the king's queen."
Her mother's eyes were filled with love.
But this love was not directed at the girl.
No one here was looking at her.
People only saw her as a sacred vessel.
When did the sweet aroma of the breakfast bread start to feel chilling?
When did the warm soup and fresh salad begin to feel out of place?
And when did people start to show an abnormal concern for every trivial expression she made while eating, making her feel an impulse to cry out loud?
After that, the taut string snapped.
The girl could no longer hold back and ran into the woods, crying.
Only one voice responded to her.
"Hmph, crying again, slowpoke Gray?"
The teasing came from a box sealed in a birdcage.
This was a treasure entrusted to her by the Elder and Grandma after she was recognized as the divine child.
It is said to have been passed down since the time of the unified dynasty.
It is the work of the great Queen Morgan—
The Holy Lance Mystic Code: Add.
Gray did not know how long she cried in the woods.
Along the way, the nagging box continued to chatter, scolding her every time she cried.