44 Hours Before the Wedding
The Candlefolk Embassy had never tried to blend in with the surrounding architecture, nor had it ever cared to.
Amid the chestnut-colored stone and deep red roof tiles of Stained Glass City, its pure white facade made it a complete outlier.
The tower didn’t look man-made.
It looked like a naturally formed stalagmite—its ivory-white, waxy surface flowed smoothly like jade, both still and somehow poised to flow at any moment.
The flame-shaped patterns beloved by the Candlefolk overlapped and joined into a single long line, winding around the projecting metal window hinges and spiraling up from the base of the tower like a circular staircase.
Elaborate reliefs covered the empty spaces, displaying the deeds of “Silver-Tongued” Laman, who had used his words to keep the empire from splitting apart.
The crest of this great ancestor was set on the front of the tower, directly above the arched doorway.
Helianne, dressed in a pink gown, arrived before the pure white entrance.
The clash of colors brought to mind a cream cake topped with a single strawberry.
She extended her will and used waxcraft to ring the bell above the arch.
She could have used the brass door handle, but this method of announcing herself was reserved for nobles, and ensured she would be treated with greater respect.
As expected, a yellow-skinned Candlefolk attendant soon opened the door and bowed as he did so.
“Please tell Mr. Cavendish,” the girl interrupted before the attendant could speak.
“Helianne Jean Pomilian is looking for him.”
…………
42 Hours Before the Wedding, Crimson Sky Inn
“And next is… the crest of ‘Silver-Tongued’ Laman. That’s the last one.”
Willowlia nodded and waved to the workers carrying it in from afar.
“Just put it on the ground. You don’t need to treat it like it’s fragile. If you want, you can even step on it a couple of times. Two steps on every crest, if you like. Oh, please spare ‘Devoted’ Edward. If we pull this off, it’ll be thanks to his reputation.”
The black-haired worker wore an extremely strange expression, while his coworker asked with great hesitation:
“Misses, do we really… only need to move the crests of the Great Ancestors for you? Doesn’t the wedding hall need decorating?”
As he said, the wedding hall was completely empty.
Aside from the bright red carpet, it lacked all the decorations expected at a Candlefolk noble’s wedding.
The seventeen Great Ancestor crests set on the ground could be considered essential components, but the many oversized stained-glass windows should also have been covered for the ceremony.
“That’s not necessary.”
The captain’s tone was as cold as ever.
“Her waxcraft can take care of the decorations, and we don’t want anyone sneaking in to spy or tamper with anything.”
“So you can leave now,” Willowlia said, drawing another spell array on the wall.
“Remember to close the door on your way out. Feel free to step on the crests a couple of times, like you said.”
………
40 Hours Before the Wedding, Candlefolk Embassy
The walls inside the embassy were as pure white as the exterior, but the velvet sofa in the center of the reception room was a vivid, dramatic navy blue.
Gold trim decorated it further, taking its theatrical extravagance to another level.
“I agreed to hand the criminal over to you afterward, to be confined and managed under your care.”
Cavendish pressed a seal bearing a rose onto the paper.
“And under the contract, you must provide relevant information and do everything you can to help capture the criminal.”
The wax-seal-like mark burst into flame, then turned to ash in an instant, leaving a rose pattern on the paper.
Cavendish and Helianne, seated across from him, both felt an invisible constraint take hold.
“Sometimes I really regret that we Candlefolk don’t have a means of securing contracts this powerful.”
Laria Cavendish gave a wry smile.
He was a rather handsome young man, with tousled blond hair, a high nose, and a fit, well-proportioned build.
Helianne guessed he’d put a great deal of effort into his good looks, from exercise to haircuts and makeup, and concluded that he was a playboy.
“If not for the Rose Seal’s important role in contracts, we would have the upper hand in trade, since we hold a monopoly on Molten Flow Boats.”
Helianne nodded.
“It wouldn’t matter even if they controlled the dome stations supplying the cargo ships.”
“According to you, humans are now trying to interfere with our monopoly on Molten Flow Boats as well.”
The diplomat shifted in his seat, crossing his left leg over his right.
“I’ve already agreed to hand the traitor over to you. Now tell me what she’s planning.”
“To put it briefly, my older sister, the genius mage Willowlia, is about to marry a Primordial Human.”
The girl in pink sighed softly.
“Under the <Molten Forge Harmony Treaty>, that human will also be entitled to own a Molten Flow Boat and set up a dome on it.”
The young man’s eyes widened, but Helianne didn’t have the patience to wait for him to fully absorb the situation.
“I need unmarried male nobles who are qualified to duel. The more, the better. I also need to report the situation to other cities, preferably to those under the Elder Council. We also need experts on marriage law, dueling law, and Molten Flow Boat law so we can figure out what to do.”
“If it’s marriage and dueling law, the Eye of the Tide has plenty of experts, and it’s the easiest place to contact.”
The playboy wasn’t as stupid as Helianne had thought, and quickly picked up the conversation.
“As for dueling…”
“I’d consider myself an expert, both in practice and in law.”
……
36 Hours Before the Wedding, Shipyard
Mo Sichen’s searchlight swept over the dark red rust on the Shipyard’s iron gate.
Dry Dock Number 3, where the Brass Loom had once been berthed, was so empty that he could hear the echo of his regulation boots.
“Fourth search.”
He activated the Anchor Bell Charm’s field again.
The twelve soldiers behind him performed the same action in perfect unison.
Their previous defeat in the clash with the Candlefolk princess had made him and his team especially wary of illusions.
After a rescue ship had pulled him from the Brass Loom’s captain’s cabin, he had immediately submitted his resignation.
The city lord had promptly rejected it—this was a time when every capable person was needed.
He had soon been sent back out on a salvage ship to help recover the Brass Loom’s wreckage.
Then, a few hours ago, he’d been summoned back to the city to search for places where Corundum might have teleported and stored Brass Loom parts in advance.
He was determined to make the most of this second chance.
“Captain, there’s something strange here!”
He crossed the distance in three strides.
An inspection hatch lay on the ground, and as the Anchor Bell Charm dispelled the illusion, a cloyingly sweet scent flooded his nose.
The deputy’s hand holding the explosion-proof lantern wavered, its light sweeping over the strange, densely packed scratches on the hatch.
He gestured, and everyone gathered around him in silence, taking positions to deal with explosives and traps.
He picked up a protective shield, put on a gas mask, and took the lead in slowly opening the hatch.
“Fffffrrrrrrrrrrrrt—”
A long, wet, awkward fart sounded as the hatch opened, echoing through the quiet Shipyard.
Mo Sichen rolled his eyes in despair.