Dozla: Oh! You there, lassie. Are you lost?
Myrrh: I… I’m not lost. I’m traveling with Ephraim. I’m his…friend.
Dozla: Oho! In that case, you and I are allies, are we not? My name’s Dozla. It’s an honor to meet you!
Dozla: Gwah ha ha! You’re a quiet lassie, aren’t you? And you’re so tiny, too. Seeing you takes me back to the days when Princess L’Arachel was a child. Tell me, lassie, how old are you?
Myrrh: … It’s impolite to ask a woman her age. That’s what Ephraim says. I think you’re being rude.
Dozla: Gwah ha ha! Aren’t you the sassy one! You’re still young. I don’t think you need to worry about age just yet.
Myrrh: And how old are you?
Dozla: Me? I’m all of forty-seven years old.
Myrrh: And I am… 1,200 years old. Roughly.
Dozla: Huh? Gwah ha ha! Stop teasing me, lassie! You don’t have to be shy. Just tell me how old you are.
Myrrh: I did. And I said I’m 1,200… Roughly.
Dozla: Hrmph! Princess L’Arachel! Princess L’Arachel! Where are you?
Dozla: Oh, lassie. What luck meeting you here. Do you know where I might find Princess L’Arachel?
Myrrh: …I do not. But that’s not important. Where is Ephraim?
Dozla: If it’s Prince Ephraim you’re after, just follow the sounds of combat! There’s no better way to motivate your troops than to stand by their side!
Myrrh: That L’Arachel person is probably with Ephraim. I saw her next to him speaking to him on quite familiar terms. For some reason, it made my chest feel…funny.
Dozla: Gwah ha ha! It must be love!
Myrrh: Love? This feeling is…love?
Dozla: Mm. I’ve tasted the sweet and the sour that life serves up, and I know love. You, my dear, are in love with Princess L’Arachel!
Myrrh: I’m not so sure about that…
Dozla: Gwah ha ha! Are you all right, lassie? There’s no need to worry. No matter how many enemies pop up, I’ll protect you.
Myrrh: I appreciate it… I do feel safe when you’re nearby… Somehow, you remind me of my father.
Dozla: Gwah ha ha! I get that a lot! So tell me, little one, where is your father, anyway?
Myrrh: …My father… ……
Dozla: Er… What’s wrong?! Did I ask something that I shouldn’t have? I-I’m sorry, lassie. Please don’t cry…
Myrrh: I’m not crying… I’m not crying…
Dozla: Ah! What do I do? Wait. Just think. I must have run across something like this before. When Princess L’Arachel was a babe, and she would begin to cry… She would tug on my beard! That would always make her happy. C’mon, lassie, grab a handful of my beard and give it a good, strong yank!
Myrrh: …… You are strange, Dozla.
Myrrh: But you were worried about me. That makes me happy. You’re a nice person after all.
Dozla: Gwah ha ha! You’ve stopped crying. Hm, that’s a good thing.
Myrrh: Yes. Thank you.