Orlando stood under the tallest pillar in the center of the ruins, looking up.
The eye on the pillar looked down at him.
Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the canopy and landed on the pupil, like a stone eye that never blinked, holding a pool of light.
He took a deep breath.
‘Charging…’
“Victoria, you—”
The sound bounced between the pillars, ricocheted, and crashed back again.
A flock of birds burst from the canopy, the rustle of wings mingling with the echoes.
“Rineiwa! Refund!”
The echoes rolled through the empty ruins several times before fading.
He gasped for air.
Silver light flickered from the depths of his eyes, like a faulty lamp.
The edges of his vision were already turning white, the green of the leaves fading.
He pressed his hand against his chest, pushing down the pot of boiling water.
The God of Love’s voice rang in his mind, lazy, as if woken from a nap.
“Is it possible that this ruins need blood?”
“How the hell would I know?”
“I don’t even have the bloodline of the Angel race.”
Silver light flickered again in his eyes.
He did have a pot of dragon bloodline, and it was boiling.
But Victoria had said “North of the Firmament,” and Hui said the Firmament was the Angel race’s barrier, its source being the Angel ruins.
He didn’t know if dragon blood would work on the Angel ruins.
At the edge of the forest.
Hui sat on a branch of an oak tree, the hem of his dark coat hanging down through the leaves.
His heterochromatic eyes watched the figure in the distance among the ruins—
The one standing under the pillar, cursing at the air.
The sound reached here already lighter, but still audible.
“Rineiwa refund”
Then he heard the sound of hooves.
Coming from the west, crunching over gravel and dead branches, growing closer.
He closed his ledger.
His heterochromatic eyes turned toward the direction of the hooves, the golden eye deepening for a moment.
Von Brunswick reined in his horse.
The horse took two steps in place and stopped.
Behind him followed an Urske diplomat, two Urske soldiers, and several private soldiers he had brought from the Empire.
Gray eyes behind goggles were looking at him—
The diplomat’s gaze, with the unguarded scrutiny characteristic of northerners.
“Lord Brunswick.”
The diplomat’s voice came from under his hat brim.
“Why did you stop?”
Von didn’t answer.
He turned his head toward the depths of the forest—
The direction of the ruins.
That roar rolled from between the pillars, shredded by layers of branches and leaves, but he couldn’t mistake that voice.
Two years ago in Skyreach City, when the teleportation array had opened, that person had shouted behind him.
He hadn’t caught what was said.
But he remembered the voice.
“Orlando.”
He forced the name out between his teeth.
The Urske diplomat’s hand went to the weapon at his waist.
The two Urske soldiers simultaneously grasped the hilts of their shortswords, gray eyes behind goggles turning in unison toward the depths of the forest.
Von’s private soldiers also drew their swords, blades flashing in the afternoon light.
Von kicked his horse’s flank.
The horse stepped forward, heading toward the ruins.
The Urske diplomat followed behind him.
The soldiers brought up the rear.
The sword blades flickered in and out of the tree shadows.
On the oak tree.
Hui’s ledger lay open on his knee, turned to the last page.
The extremely faint line of words was still there—
The line he had written this morning after Orlando left the city.
He glanced down, then closed the ledger and tucked it into his robe.
The hem of his dark coat hung down through the leaves, motionless.
His heterochromatic eyes watched Von Brunswick’s horse disappear into the depths of the forest.
“Looks like something big is happening…”