“This is a small gift prepared for you by our Lady Silverwing service team. We hope it brings your journey in Stained Glass City a pleasant beginning.”
The gift was a rose.
Every thorn and green leaf along its stem had been snipped off by hand, one by one, leaving only a single, lonely main stalk and a rose blossom far too heavy and vivid for that stalk.
A pair of pink hands presented it to Helianne, who was about to disembark.
The hands were healthy and lustrous.
Helianne lifted her head and saw the attendant she had met in her cabin bowing slightly, wearing a bright, professional smile.
“Thank you.”
Helianne restrained herself and nodded, accepting the rose, because she did not know whether her refusal might bring further misfortune upon this woman who was a little older than she was.
She raised the rose beneath her nose and breathed deeply.
Its fragrance was sweet, perfectly matched to the expensive irrigation and cultivation lavished upon it.
Unlike fungi, moss, and ferns, the rose was a very fragile crop.
It required abundant special light that humans called sunlight to grow healthily, which meant it could only be cultivated beneath a few specific domes.
At the same time, it needed soil of the right composition, cuttings whose exact method was a closely guarded secret of the Rose Alliance, and daily watering to complete its full life cycle.
This was the common ailment of dome crops, and also the root of their nobility.
Vivid colors, enchanting fragrance, and a price equivalent to a month’s wages for a common Candlefolk made them favored gifts among the Candlefolk aristocracy.
Had ancient humans not used them as calling cards in the game of power, the Rose Alliance would not possess the network of trading posts spanning the [Crevice] that it did today.
And Stained Glass City was a human city.
Helianne lifted her pink skirt and stepped down the stairs, her carved little leather shoes landing on the red carpet laid out in advance.
The air at the docks was stifling.
The gentlemen and ladies who had shared the ship with Helianne all wiped their foreheads with handkerchiefs, eager to escape this steamer created by the heat of Flame Crystals, without even a moment to admire the famous sunset dome here.
As an outstanding graduate of the Meditation Institute, the young woman was not as bedraggled as they were.
Her fingertips traced a rune, and a breeze circled around her, blowing gently, giving her the leisure to slow her steps and admire the crimson dome and the fire-like clouds at the horizon.
The dome of Stained Glass City could not provide sufficient sunlight, and thus could not profit from dome crops.
So trade, exploration, handicrafts, and the wealthy who traveled thousands of miles for this beautiful dome supported its life.
And today, the docks of Stained Glass City still displayed their proper bustle.
The hum of interlocking gears filled the air.
The axles and ropes of heavy machinery hoisted enormous wooden crates onto cargo ships.
And the great Mourning Bell at the center of the docks precisely and unfailingly fulfilled its triple duty—providing power, resisting the tides, and recording the passage of time with its hands.
But perhaps because of the tide gauge on the notice board that had not yet crossed the yellow line, although ships occasionally docked, no Molten Flow Boat had melted its wax and set sail.
The spring-loaded ballistae for defending against tidal demons were undergoing preliminary maintenance, and two crates of flesh-and-blood preparations stamped with the Fienna emblem were being carried toward a tent in the corner of the docks.
Slightly tense, but not beyond the ordinary—this at least meant her beloved sister had not yet stirred up some citywide storm.
After all, if there was one thing Helianne’s sister lacked most, it was absolutely reverence.
She could feel it.
Whether rules, tradition, order, or the ancestral spirits worshipped by the Candlefolk, in her sister’s eyes they all seemed to be merely backward, awaiting improvement, shackles that need not be acknowledged at all were it not for the eyes of the world.
She would put on a show for them simply because it was advantageous, simply because it would not wound the hearts of those around her.
And once enough weight was placed on the other end of the scales, she could treat them like a child’s poetry exercise, crumple them up, and toss them into the wastebasket.
Perhaps at this very moment, her sister was doing something utterly absurd—like using spring-loaded knuckle dusters to punch a negotiation partner in the nose.
Just then, an anomaly in the northeast corner of the docks pulled the young woman’s drifting thoughts back to reality—three cranes marked with the anchor-chain emblem were hoisting mechanical arms, and what the workers were loading onto the barges were not ordinary cargo crates, but large metal detectors sealed with wax.
This was clearly not the supply operation of an ordinary merchant vessel.
She did not casually stop some dockworker to ask questions.
In her view, most workers and commoners only knew how to sell their labor, yet knew nothing about the projects they were carrying out.
She chose to return to the long red carpet and walk along it.
As expected, a human appeared in her line of sight whose uniform was far cleaner and neater than the others.
He was presumably the receptionist responsible for answering the questions of distinguished guests—of course, this “distinguished” included Helianne Jean Pomilian, who had acquired a cheap royal identity a few months ago.
“Greetings, honored young lady.”
The receptionist had simply identified Helianne as a Candlefolk noble by her appearance.
He removed his bowler hat, revealing yellowed sideburns.
“Is there anything I can help you with?”
“I noticed some rather unusual ships in the northeast corner of the docks.”
The corners of her mouth curved into just the right smile, and her violet eyes showed the curiosity typical of a noble sightseer.
“Workers are loading what look like very special devices onto them. An explorer friend of mine taught me that that shape is usually a detector… What is going on?”
“For such a young lady, your erudition is astonishing.”
The receptionist offered a practiced compliment.
“That is a salvage operation. A few hours ago, an exploration ship crashed near the city due to the tides.”
“An exploration ship…”
Helianne furrowed her brows, just like a truly ignorant young girl.
“Aren’t they the vanguard that ventures into the unknown, battling the most violent tides? How could one have shipwrecked near the city?”
Before she finished speaking, she seemed to recall something.
Her left hand lightly covered her chest, and she adopted an anxious, worried expression:
“Could you tell me the name of the ship that crashed? No, no… I don’t quite remember the names of the people on board… Could you tell me who was on the ship that crashed? I’m afraid my friend might have been on it…”
She even naturally and cooperatively rose onto her tiptoes.
This might be some kind of family inheritance, Helianne thought.
From her great-grandparents’ generation to her and her sister, everyone was so skilled at disguise.
Joy, anger, sorrow, happiness—all could be put on and taken off like masks at any time.
Veterans might see through it, but a receptionist would naturally believe such a trick.
The wrinkles on his face deepened with embarrassment, and he unconsciously rubbed the metal rim of his bowler hat:
“It was the ‘Brass Loom,’ young lady. If you are truly anxious, I can also help you inquire about the passenger manifest.”
Thanks, you’re welcome, and waiting—some commonplace formalities.
After a few minutes of waiting, the receptionist, holding a communication device, wore an apologetic expression:
“Apologies, young lady. This situation is rather special. For the sake of certain people’s reputations, the higher-ups have ordered that the passenger manifest for this voyage be kept confidential.”
Very interesting…
Sealing the passenger list? Considering her sister’s recent abnormal behavior and the timing of her arrival in the city, this matter might be connected to her.
Of course, the act had to continue:
“Can’t you make an exception? I’m truly worried about my friend…”
Her teeth lightly bit her lip, and worry and frustration seemed ready to spill from her eyes at any moment.
“There’s nothing that can be done…”
The receptionist waved his hand.
“But I can tell you some good news. There were no deaths in this accident, and the injured at most suffered minor wounds. So you need not worry about your friend’s safety.”
“I see…”
The young woman’s shoulders sagged.
“Then I can be at ease. Thank you for telling me.”
There was nothing more to press him on.
Even if she wanted to investigate, she should not start with a receptionist.
After bidding the receptionist farewell, Helianne organized the clues she had in her mind.
First, her sister had incurred a terrifying debt, but someone had paid it off in full for her.
Second, an exploration ship had recently sunk under abnormal circumstances near Stained Glass City, and the city authorities were deliberately concealing the passenger list.
She had done certain things, and Stained Glass City had reached a cooperation with her, helping to conceal it?
Could it be Stained Glass City that paid off her debt?
Hmm…
Then what did her sister possess that she still had, and that the human side would find valuable?
Beauty? Her sister was very, very beautiful, true…
But no one would spend that much money for a face alone.
Knowledge and talent?
Those would take time to cash in.
It was also possible that she had set up an enormous scheme and caught the city by the throat…
That was not impossible.
In that case, she might applaud and congratulate her sister.
Hmm… What sank a few hours ago was an exploration ship, a Molten Flow Boat…
A Molten Flow Boat…
Helianne thought of something, something her sister did not have before bankruptcy but had now—
A royal title.
“If that’s the case… it’s indeed not impossible that Sister would be willing to sell her marriage…”
As this thought crept into her consciousness like a poisonous vine, Helianne suddenly realized she was clutching that thornless rose for dear life.
A certain viscous panic crawled through the plant’s sap into her veins.
She thought of those wax-sealed specimen butterflies at the Meditation Institute, their gold dust sifting down from eternally stilled wings.
If Willowlia truly donned a wedding dress, that garment would not merely wrap around flesh and blood—it would be a brand of shame.
Those shocking ideas, that edge that even the tidal turbulence could not swallow, would all become a despicable, shameful footnote to a betrayal.
“I will never allow it, and not just for your safety.”
Helianne melted the broken stem into wax with flame art.
The bright red, turbid liquid splattered stains across the ground.
The damp wind carried the sweet, bloody scent unique to flesh-and-blood preparations, and the young woman found her body trembling.
If…
If Willowlia’s rebellion was going to lead to such a ridiculous end, she would rather seal her sister into a crystal coffin with her own hands—at least then, what the world looked up to would still be a star suspended from the dome, not a meteorite fallen into the mud.