Aria, somewhat satisfied with the answer given to her by the dragon/knight Plantagonox, smiled sadly. "I understand. Since I hardly know a thing about magic, I would just be in your way, or worse, a hazard. Still, it would have been nice to travel with you..."
Aria sat down on the grass next to Plantagonox, and opened her bag. Inside was a half eaten crust of bread from yesterday, a few grapes she had picked herself, a bottle of milk, and a change of ragged clothes... the bag itself was her blanket. Aside from the silver blade left behind by her father, this was all she had left in the world. She set the blanket out as neatly as she could and placed her father's sword down, the dragon looking at it with interest.
"Strange... that sword is far too well made to belong to a mere peasant family..." He muttered, and Aria looked at him with a twinge of annoyance... she didn't like being considered unworthy of her own family heirlooms.
"It belonged to my father. I don't know much about him, since the villagers apparently didn't like him that well, but I do know that he was a knight of some kind. My mother told me he was a courageous, cunning, and skilled warrior, with snow white hair and eyes gleaming the same color as the blade he wielded. And, though I am not sure of this, he may have had the ability to use magic as well..." She drew the blade from its scabbard and stared at it with a mixture of wonder and sorrow in her eyes. "This sword, 'Rapture', is the only thing I have that was once my father's. I do not know if he is alive or dead, but he left this behind for my mother and me... and I'm sure he loved us dearly..." Aria's eyes welled up in tears again, remembering the pain of being alone in this world. She wiped them away and smiled at Plantagonox, bright and cheerful.
Aria picked up the grapes and the milk, and held them out. "I don't know if you have a taste for them, but I can live off a crust of bread for at least a little while. If you want them, here."