"The Monthly Care Package Delivery!"

Dreyza

After finishing today's breakfast, we Zeros found out that Miriam had sent us some care packages.

Just as I was finishing up my American pancakes and syrup, a load of brown parcels with a pair of buff legs struggled through the stone doorway. "Agh… Vaike Delivery Service comin' through…!" groaned the boxes.

As soon as I saw him at the eating area entrance, my eyebrows went straight up. I thought, Guess that's not something you see everyday, huh?

Almost immediately, many of the Shepherds—Frederick, Sully, Stahl, Sumia—dropped their forks and knives and rushed over before Vaike could collapse from his burden, instead setting it on the floor. As they slowly picked apart the pile of parcels, I caught a glimpse of grey wrapping paper, hidden within the mound.

My eyes lit up as I raced over.

"Whoops, 'scuse me… Wh-Hey! Watch where you put stuff, Frederick!"

"Apologies, Miss Dreyza."

"Ah—sorry, Sully, gotta reach over you for just a seeeeeeeecond…"

"Okay…?"

"…ehhh… Got 'em! Sorry!"

After about thirty seconds of not tripping (sorry, Sumia), I made my way back to the Zeros' corner, with five boxes pressed against my chest. From the left, Blu, Trey, Vespyr, and Kyoku were all close to finishing up their meals 'round the wooden table.

Bluefield's eyebrows went up, a slice of potato hovering over his plate. "Miriam?" he guessed.

"Yep! She sent us care packages! Okay, one for big bro…" I reached his package over to him. "…one for newblood…" Trey humbly accepted the gift over his scrambled eggs. "…one for hotshot…" Vespyr took her package, grinning. "…one for coldshot…" Kyoku glared at me over his soup, but received his present without complaint. "…and one for me! Okay."

Excited, I rushed back to my seat. Setting my plate aside, I put the grey package onto the table. It was one foot in each direction, so it basically looked like a metal cube—from afar, anyway.

Which was probably why, as I tore off the wrapping paper, Ricken trotted over, intrigue etched in his face. "What are you guys up to?"

"Ah, hey, Ricken." I patted the vacant chair on my right. "Have a seat. I wonder what Miriam sent me and the other Wolves."

The mage sat down beside me. I noticed that he had in his hands an envelope sealed with red wax. "Who's Miriam?" he asked.

"Our guardian," I replied. "Blu…well, he didn't need her guardianship as much as the rest of us did. Heck, he didn't meet her until he met us. But she did help us adjust to 'normal life', teach us various things, keep us out of trouble while Blu was busy with his job."

"Huh." The letter in Ricken's hands seemed to wilt somewhat. "Did you guys have it rough?"

I noticed. "Nah, not really. Anyway, what about you? What'd you get today?"

"O-Oh, right." He unsealed the envelope and slid out the parchment inside. "My parents sent me a letter."

"That so? Did you let them know you're doing all right?"

The mage nodded, smiling. "Yep. Took some of [REDACTED]'s advice on it."

"Hmm. Well, I'll leave you with your letter." With that, I turned back to the package. Pulling out my combat knife from my belt, I slid its edge across the sealing tape in one smooth motion. With that done, I slid my knife back into its sheath and flipped open the flaps. "Ah, all right!"

Ricken looked over my shoulder. "What? What is it?"

Reaching in, I rustled through the goodies Miriam packaged for me and pulled out a blood-red scarf with a stark-white D emblazoned on one end. "I guess Blu told her about us going through Regna Ferox. Shame we might not be going back there for a while, but hey—the thought counts, right?"

"Aw, I wish I could have one, too. It looks really comfortable."

"It sure does. But does it feel comfortable?" To answer that simple question, I threw my new scarf around my neck. "…Yep! It is."

"Aw… Lucky." Sounds a bit like—nope. I know he'll rage if I say it.

I chuckled. "Hey—I'll ask Blu to ask Miriam to make one for you."

Ricken's eyes brightened at that. "R-Really? You'd do that?"

"Sure. I mean—" I shrugged. "—why not?"

Bluefield piped up here. "I'll do the damn paperwork…" he groaned.

I winced inwardly. Right…there is that.

But—nevermind.

Ricken nodded, then turned to read his parents' reply. "…Hm?" he paused, his fingers sliding across the parchment.

At that, I looked over. "Something wrong?"

He didn't answer immediately. Securing the letter behind the envelope, he reached inside and pulled out a few gold coins.

My eyebrows went up again. Ricken, however, was rather…what's the word Kyoku used? Ah—gobsmacked. "What?!"

I looked directly at him. "What's wrong?"

"I can't believe… They sent me some money." Ricken shook his head. "I can't keep this. I gotta send it back."

I frowned. "Why? What's the matter?"

"It's…" The mage hesitated. "Well, did Maribelle tell you about my house?"

I knew what he meant: house was one short way of saying noble family. "Yeah, a little. Name's in disrepair and all that?"

Ricken nodded. "We're not dirt poor right now—don't get me wrong—but we don't exactly have enough for certain luxuries, either."

"Like what?" I asked.

"We had to let go of most of our household servants."

"Oh…" Wouldn't know how that feels. Sans Bluefield, we only ever had Miriam, and ourselves. And those soldiers…but they don't count. "But…can't your parents afford an occasional treat for their son, every once in a while?"

Ricken thought about that. "Hrmmm… I guess they could…"

"Then what's the big deal? Here—" I reached into my backpack (minor security blanket; don't ask why) and pulled out a bag of gold bullion. "Why not send this stuff in exchange? That way, you can call it even."

He stared. "Where did you get that?!"

"Risen. Last battle. Don't ask."

"B-But…are you sure you're okay with giving this to my family?"

"Sure! Just—maintain that it's an anonymous donation, yeah? That way, no One gets in real trouble."

That probably was a bit befuddling, but after a second, Ricken nodded. "W-Well, all right." Pocketing the gold from his family, he grasped the bag of gold for his family. "Thanks so much, Dreyza!"

"Anytime, man." I was trying really hard not to say Anytime, kid.

Nodding—with bag and letter in hands—Ricken jumped off the chair and raced off, probably to immediately send the gold to his family.

As I got back to Miriam's gift care package, I thought, I really hope he remembers. Anonymous donation.