UR-6 Intersecting Routes

......

(In Sarkaz) One more! One more story!

(In Sarkaz) How about the tale of the wandering metal hero?

(In Sarkaz) He even graced our valley once. In fact, the mist that shrouds Mist Lake was actually blown from his big pipe...

......

(In Sarkaz) Retract your feather horns like this, and you can shield your eyes.

(In Sarkaz) So we can use them as an eye mask to sleep during the day?

(In Sarkaz) No, of course not. This is so you can easily weave your tears into elegies at funerals...

Eavesdrop again, and I'll throw you into the concrete mixer.

Was that... a Banshee's incantation?

Yes.

You've journeyed thousands of miles from Kazdel to Columbia, yet you record your people's voices to keep by your side, listening to them over and over?

Is homesickness hard for you to comprehend?

No. But, it's rare I find someone concentrating on nostalgia the same way she concentrates on a blueprint.

You're trying to decipher the Banshees' language and behavior. Why? To find a new path, to solve your entire race's plight that has endured for millennia?

Gah...

I'm not that arrogant.

I only hope to take a burden off the shoulders of a particularly worried individual.

I see, though that's pretty much what I just said.

So, any breakthroughs?

I'm not in that much of a rush.

It sounds as if you've replayed that countless times over...

......

Soaking in the same old corpus until you drown, unable to develop a new language.

The limits of vision and thought drown us in the pool of 'common sense', and then everything turns into so-called destiny...

I thought you left Kazdel knowing this.

Erasing those recordings... is a cruel suggestion.

It's rational.

Hello, I'm Kristen, Control of Rhine Lab.

Nasti.

The talented Banshee, freshly recruited by Sterleigh Construction Co, who completes projects three times faster than regular engineers, provoking rumors of you imbuing witchcraft into blueprints...

We're currently establishing an engineering department at Rhine Lab. Might you be interested?

I happened to overhear your chat with the boss yesterday... 'Rhine Lab' is a bio-tech company, yes?

Look up, Nasti... Do you see those fowlbeasts, and the morning stars behind them?

I'm only looking for some kind of power to break through the sky.

The sky...

Per your prior suggestion, if you wish to accomplish something that exceeds the borders of common sense, then perhaps the power you need doesn't come from our side...

Rhine Lab should be looking into a scientific investigation department instead.

A rational suggestion. Can I take this as the first proposal fielded by our Director of Engineering?

......

Miss Lunorey?

I thought you'd send me straight to the hearing, or perhaps a more confidential cell... but here we are, waiting for a cable car at the ropeway station. Are we to visit the levitation layer next?

Your visitor has indeed arranged for that.

......

Long time no see, Nasti.

...So it was you.

I just got here, and what a fine place it is. I still have half the place to see—shall we have a look together?

Alright.

Why is it raining only in the area we just passed through?

Cloud projections, thanks to a sky simulator system developed by Wrankwood. Wait five minutes, and you can even enjoy an aurora.

A century ago, that fellow known today as the father of projections once lamented to me on a film set, wondering when we could actually shoot a film up in the sky...

'Sky Fever' has truly set the revolutionary gears of film tech in motion.

Quite an atmosphere here, Nasti. Personally, I take civilization's rapid developments as commonplace happenings, and now I can't help but be moved by the Columbians' creativity.

It's hard to believe you'd still be in the mood for fun and games.

According to the laws drawn up for Propeller Paradise, relevant authorities must call for a hearing within twelve hours of an emergency event happening to investigate the matter and notify the public.

Gordon barged into Rhine Lab's Vivarium, wrecked our research projects, and exposed his shady dealings to public scrutiny.

Evidence and testimonies provided were complete and accurate, your people arrived quickly, yet you've been dragging your feet to begin this hearing...

This is no procrastination, Nasti.

Two years ago, the Columbians never thought they'd fight the clouds for the right to dwell above. But now?

Propeller Paradise has become the hottest topic in all of Columbia, and its name tops the special plate registry records.

Take a moment to ride the cable car as it circles around. Look at the facilities around you, and at the company representatives clogging the entrance to the registration center...

All of this already tells us what sort of judgment the hearing will produce, no?

......

Propeller Paradise. Hmph. You get it? 'Paradise', representing a zealous ambition to fly high up into the skies, while 'Propeller' has an exact implication too—there's no stopping.

A smuggling network exposed, revealed to be led by the chief executive involving nearly a hundred companies, numerous irregularities found in the park's research work over the past six months... once we begin investigating, the exhibition will have to be canceled.

You're right, Nasti. The hearing must convene, and everything that's happened must be accounted for—

But that's all they need. An account.

And Rhine Lab is the most appropriate party to provide that?

After all, this 'sky fever' began that night in Trimounts. Anyone could believe Rhine Lab will do something like this again.

*sigh* Never the silent technician connecting nothing but cables that your peers say you are.

Though, this isn't exactly a false accusation against Rhine Lab now, is it?

Your mystery 'tree' still floats in the sky. Putting aside your 'botanical unit' and other excuses, how are you going to explain that?

......

It sounds like I don't even have to attend the hearing anymore. You've already made up your mind, after all.

...I'm sorry, Nasti.

......

I'm not sure of the exact timeframe, but I'll go home eventually. Someone's waiting for me.

Before that happens, Rhine Lab can become one of the stops on your journey.

It doesn't matter if you want to develop a new language, create a new Convallis, or change the so-called 'fate' of your clan... no one will get in the way of your goals.

On the contrary, Rhine Lab will fight for everything you need. After all, we have many like you.

And the catch? Or perhaps I should ask... the cost?

Nasti, I don't ask company employees to view Rhine Lab's operations as some sort of grand undertaking worthy of personal sacrifice.

If we want to accomplish the unprecedented, we are already on a path strewn with enough doubt and loss...

So, we must never stop. Ever.

...I consent to join Rhine Lab then.

Seeing as we're still on the cable car, I'm sure there's room for discussion.

Mm-hm?

The hearing must take place, and everything has to be accounted for, but it's merely an accounting...

All of Columbia knows about the Horizon Arc Project from two years ago. Kristen stole funding from the DOD, but Rhine Lab as a whole was not fully involved...though, I was certainly her accomplice.

Pinning the blame of endangering the entire park on a company versus an individual has entirely different implications, Nasti. Are you willing to sacrifice yourself like this for Rhine Lab?

Sacrifice? Kristen and I aren't fans of the word.

Everything has a price. This is what life in the Convallis and Kazdel taught me. There is no way I'll willingly take the blame for one of Maylander's plans.

......

I won't make it hard for the other Rhine Labbers.

Nor that 'tree', for that matter.

Do as you wish with the device, but let my assistant take the data, since the research isn't finished. He knows nothing about my project, so don't worry about him tampering with it.

We're here.

The agents at the station will escort you where you should go.

Right, there's something else. When I returned to Kazdel, I went to the Convallis...

Væla is here... I already know.

I had planned to hurry to find her before I went to the hearing.

(Væla is in the park...)

(Heh, Mercia. So I see...)

I'll send someone to look after my old friend.

Thanks.

The hearing on the sudden accident on Propeller Paradise has just concluded.

Suspect Nasti Lunorey abused her position as the head of the Park's Engineering Department to conduct unauthorized experimental projects, and this nearly led to a disaster.

On the night of the incident, the suspect attacked Gordon Tannen, the park's chief executive, in an attempt to cover up her crime with an unidentified tree-shaped device.

According to Mr. Tannen's testimony, the suspect not only deliberately tried to harm him, but she also abused her Engineering privileges to tamper with exhibits.

She forced her subordinates to conduct illegal tests, deliberately suppressed rival tech companies, and forced dozens of outstanding companies to leave the park.

Now, with the ATAO's backing, the innocent corporations implicated in this incident have returned to Propeller Paradise and will continue to contribute to Columbia's aerial operations.

The suspect Nasti Lunorey is currently in custody after confessing to her crimes. She will be sent to the D.C. courts to face justice.

From now on, Propeller Paradise operations will be overseen by Gordon Tannen and Gustave, supervised by the Maylander Emergency Management Council...

...The highly anticipated Air Expo Columbia will not be affected whatsoever.

Madam Væla... was that too loud? My apologies.

Nasti... what happened to her?

Don't you mind that, Madam.

Let your final memory of Director Lunorey be when you saw her last night.

No... at the very least, I shouldn't do this to an old woman with already fading memories.

Besides, the facts have been tampered with enough today.

A late hearing, satisfied corporate reps, my fellow agents infiltrating the crowd... what exactly is the Tin Man's mission this time?

The more people on patrol, the less I can do for you—it's only a matter of time before he discovers my deception.

But if you can't stop worrying over Director Lunorey, I'll figure out a way...

Nasti... my daughter, I'm sorry.

......

It was I... who left you homeless.

'Where the torches are lit, the myriad souls be.'

'Bones to bones, souls to souls.'

Let's conclude the funeral here, Væla. Our people have returned to the courtyard, and night is falling.

Three months. Demoi spent three whole months in the wooden hut under the Roosting Tree before death finally came.

I've done all I could, but... I could not alleviate the pain of slowly turning into an empty husk.

She was never the sorrowful sort. The reed beds along the lake shore would sway to the sound of her laughter.

But every pleasant memory from the past two centuries vanished completely within the first three days after she moved into the wooden hut. I couldn't retrieve them, as much as I wanted to.

In those final three months, as her remaining memories abandoned her, all she could do was force out broken, hoarse whispers from her throat.

In her two centuries of life, she certainly knew laughter in full measure—at least.

But why did she have to end up meeting death in agony?

In these two hundred years since we settled in the Convallis... every Banshee that has left us, has experienced a long and painful period of losing her memory before death.

A cruel joke, simply put. To the departed, Banshees are the last ones to remember their existence. It is not in our nature to forget, but to remember.

Forgetting is indeed a new phenomenon of the last two centuries, but you shouldn't blame yourself for a chronic disease we have yet to comprehend.

A chronic disease, or a cost?

Every time, every person without fail, first loses her memories of life in the Convallis.

As if... the life we created was mere stuffing made of cotton—a substitute that replaced the life we were originally born to live, but in the end...

When it decays completely with time, the people it once filled are left as empty husks.

Is that not what we have always wanted to do?

To create a different life for the Banshees, the Sarkaz—a life accompanied by song and pastry, rather than war and death.

Remember what Her Highness promised us? As we deal with all of this in the Convallis, she, as the King of Sarkaz, will guide our people to bid farewell to our omnipresent vengeful and bloodthirsty nature.

You personally told me that Her Highness has turned to Originium for answers... along with that 'Dame'.

I had a few more conversations with Her Highness after that. She never forgot our original dream.

She only changed to a more decisive method to fulfill her promise. If the day comes where her flowers can cover the land... all the more we Sarkaz will need a new way of life.

I only hope the Convallis will hold on until then.

The Roosting Tree is still withering. Its roots have long since rotted. Neither the Children of Soil and Stone's witchcraft nor my own incantations have been of any effect.

I'm sure there's a future for our Roosting Tree. I only hope... you'll be there to see it.

These past three months, have you gotten even a single night's sleep as you kept Demoi company?

Her moments of peace were thanks to your soothing incantations, that she could gain respite from listening to the boats on Mist Lake.

But what about you?

Now that Demoi is gone, the only Banshee left who experienced the war two centuries ago are you and me.

Only I can pay the price.

What about the children?

Is that why you sent Aefanyl to Kazdel?

The Banshees' future should be left to the children.

Whether our decision was right or wrong, we shouldn't let the children pay for it.

Is that why you didn't let Nasti join in the funeral rites this time?

And good that I didn't. If the Convallis life is but a fragile existence made of cotton stuffing, then...

Nasti grew up fighting for her life in Kazdel; to her, death is nothing but Originium crystals sprouting all over the ground.

Her attitude towards death will spread doubts to the other children.

She has a bright mind. I'm sure she'll understand your intention.

I remember when she wanted to build a hut of her own by the Roosting Tree, though in the end you had her build it in the mistapple pulp woods.

You hardly bring her to the courtyard gatherings, nor do you allow her to formally study incantations and elegies... How do you explain all that to her?

I found the children too loud, so as the 'Custodian,' I had to move further away to find some peace and quiet. She saw how busy I was...

And she believed it?

At least, she said nothing.

......

Alright, Laqeramaline. You should go.

And you?

I wish to stay a while longer.

You've sung this elegy long enough.

...I don't know what else I can do. The Convallis is headed towards decay, and beyond it, the souls left homeless by my mistakes can only weep.

You can still go back and keep Nasti company at least.

As a mother, we might not be able to pay the cost of always shutting our children out.

You close the door only to hide cruel truths. But to the child, you're pushing her away...

......

These days, I've been getting the feeling that Nasti will leave...

Yes, it is an abrupt decision.

......

......

I had hoped for you to spend the rest of your life peacefully in the Convallis.

It was my mistake, not finding you earlier than I did. You'd already gone through so much suffering.

When I decided to bring you back here, I should have been responsible for you. But in the end...

Please forgive my conflicted heart, Nasti.

I'm not leaving because of you, Væla.

...At least, not for the reason you think.

Unlike those children, you know how Kazdel is, even now...

The living still fight in the market teeming with the stench of rust and excrement, while crystals sprout from the dead like untended weeds...

It does not hold the answer I want.

But what is your question in the first place?

......

Where are you planning to go?

I don't know. Maybe I'll use the half-baked incantations I picked up from you, cast a few stones at the valley's entrance, and let them decide a direction for me.

Leithanien? Laterano? Columbia?

I heard those strange names when wandering in Kazdel.

Those places...

They're very far...

So?

......

Take care, child. Eat well.

Farewell... Mother.

Attention all company representatives and testers: Propeller Paradise will link up with D.C. in two hours.

The park's broadcast will begin once we're in range of the intercity net. Please make sure your exhibits are all functioning optimally. Air Expo Columbia is about to begin!

Look, that's Tower Mountains' finbeast airship! I heard they made a lot of last minute modifications and greatly improved its heat resistance.

And that solar-powered hover kitchen kit! With a power source that works even beyond the Starpod... I've been curious ever since I first read the brochure!

Whoa!

Good thing you only hit the window rail, instead of getting your whole head stuck in there.

The expo's about to begin. Aren't you nervous at all?

Relax. Professionals always have an escape plan ready. I'll get you out when the time's right.

You want to leave already?

N-No, sir! Of course not!

Whatever, I'm just here to hand over some stuff.

......

That's a lot of papers. Are these records and investigation forms? And the name on them—Ferne Barn?

Vandalizing public property, theft of cultural relics, trespassing, impersonating a guide... why's a little indie guide worth your trouble to scrutinize five years of work history?

We just need your signature down here, and you'll spend the rest of your life in jail introducing folks to handcuffs and shackles.

What do you want?

The expo's about to begin, but we need more hands on deck. We can't afford to lock up the park's only two guides, that would waste time and resources.

But there are too many records with your name on them, and you're connected to Nasti Lunorey.

So you've decided to threaten me?

Stay in line, and this is a chance to wipe your rap sheets clean, you know.

Seems like I don't have a choice.

Save your thanks for Gustave. He was the one who proposed it to the Maylander Emergency Management Council. The two of you would be missing out on this expo marking the beginning of a new era without him.

I'm sure you heard the broadcast too. Before the park plate drives into the intercity net's range and begins the live stream, make sure you're fully prepared to introduce the future to every Columbian out there.

I get it. I'll finish all the studio work, and won't leave the park before the expo ends.

Good deal.

Then come on out, you two. Time to get to work.

'On behalf of all Leithanians, I express my most sincere congratulations for the upcoming Air Expo Columbia to be held on the experimental Propeller Paradise.'

Take a guess, who signed it in the end?

Conductor of the Güldenes...gesatz, uh, Guardian of the Nine Kreise... anyway, one with a string of titles neither of us could pronounce—

The Kaiserin.

The late Maylander Sr. always said those with a keen sense for politics never lose it, and it seems that holds true.

Miss Wilson.

I'd rather keep a keen sense for wine-tasting, honestly.

Laterano took half a century to hold their Summit of Nations, an event you could say was the largest diplomatic event on Terra in nearly two centuries, yet Leithanien only sent over a few insignificant dukes as delegates.

But our tiny Air Expo Columbia has got a personal letter of congratulations from the Kaiserin...

Mr. Vice President, Propeller Paradise has sent over a gift. A bunch of balloons in the shape of the President, most of which are already decorating the hallways.

Thank you, Pavard.

Perhaps you could return the Kaiserin's wishes with a balloon like that one?

And let the Gesatzswächter and Spire Casters spend three days carefully dismantling it into rubber scrap?

It seems to be an average balloon for decorative purposes.

I fear that is no longer the case, since the letter was penned by the Kaiserin. It'll 'transform' into the most cutting-edge military tech—an aerial bomb disguised as a balloon, sent floating into another country's airspace.

And how many congratulations like that have you received?

Let's see. Victorian Grand Dukes, the Ursine Speaker, the Grand Knight of Kazimierz... I'll run out of fingers to count on.

The VP before me spent four years worrying about immigration and tariffs, but me?

Impregnable cities got captured, a never-changing sky got ripped open, and a long-silent ocean began to speak.

After all that, the core nations unanimously decided 'balloons are always aerial bombs in disguise'.

And what about us?

Oh, this balloon of ours can't even fly.

Before the balloons were sent over, the flammable hydrogen got replaced with regular air... for safety reasons, of course.

How safe and careful we Columbians are.

This sounds like a serious matter of national security, but you're discussing it with a retiree...?

Inside the State Building, the finest reception hall in all of D.C., even?

It's hard to imagine retirement making things any different for Jara Booker Wilson.

My hospitality is hardly befitting the once Eternally Shining Star, or Rhine Lab's former Director of HR.

These days, people seem more willing to be moved by a legend or miracle than by politics or promises.

Even the most rational congressmen are no exception.

If you're referring to the few meetings I had with Congressman Wayne, I believe you've already expressed your gratitude... with those unique souvenirs from Kjerag.

That was just a personal token of my gratitude. Besides, I later realized the scientists at the observation station must have sent you something similar before.

If you show up and give the right people the chance to put hydrogen back into Columbia's balloons, I'm sure I won't be the only one in line to thank you.

To my understanding, the most suitable people to do it would be those who made the balloon in the first place.

I've stepped in on their behalf quite a few times.

Researchers are as sincere as children. I can never bear to see their hopes dashed.

You're right that retirement has made no difference to me whatsoever, though.

Of course, we all know how important Rhine is to you.

Look. Propeller Paradise... you don't even need binoculars to see it anymore.

We need only wait and see what they'll turn Columbia's balloons into.

Look! This high-altitude adaptive balloon in the shape of the President is one of our hot souvenirs!

A thin film on the balloon's surface automatically adjusts its molecular structure according to the environment, so it won't explode, even if it collides with the Barrier.

Think about it, Miss! Just how many balloons could we fit under the Barrier?

......

I remember agents are required to pass a university-level physics fundamentals exam.

Isn't this park's purpose to push the boundaries of physics itself?

Are you implying those samples and snacks on you are for research purposes?

(Satisfied chewing)

Just for disguise purposes. I'm about to buy some fresh cotton candy planets over at platform four—a small vacuum chamber that can simulate the birth and development of Terra... don't you think it romantic?

At least, that's less boring than having to transport a special someone.

Special... you mean that Banshee?

Yeah, the one you were in charge of before.

So the Tin Man already knew...

He said you had an urgent mission to handle, so we'll take over evacuating the special individual.

Væla in bad shape. You'll have to be very careful.

I know, an old Banshee has to be skilled in witchcraft, no? We'll set up cognitive interference detectors to make sure nothing goes awry.

Cognitive interference? But she's already being tormented by her shattered memories—

Man, where my colleagues at? We have to evacuate all park personnel from the levitation layer in the next half hour, or I won't get to buy any souvenirs.

This is the last chance we'll get to see such weird stuff.

......

I think you should go buy your cotton candy planets. They won't be coming.

Huh? I—

I'm... at the ropeway station?

Right, I gotta go to platform four, or I'll miss out on the cotton candy.

......

Madam Væla, my apologies, but I only bought you thirty minutes.

Act on your desires. You're free.

......

The door, is open.

Guiding me... home?

...But where is... Nasti...?

There's still an hour before the broadcast begins. Which necktie should I wear...?

Tch. Is Gustave still deciding who will make the opening speech? Drag it out any longer and we'll have no time to prepare the script!

An hour won't be enough to list all my countless contributions to the park. There are also the many organizations and departments to thank for all the help they've given me, they deserve the recognition...

Everything will go as planned, surely...?

What am I thinking!? We may not get along, but there's no way he'll side with a Kuranta he's only known for a few days.

*sigh* Even at the very end, Gustave never changes. Using every trick up his sleeve to keep his lackeys in line, just to make them do as they're told.

We're like a bunch of kids. Getting all nervous over a little prize we deserve.

How come Five-Four's not back yet? Wasn't it supposed to just check the office for any news?

Who's that?!

...A letter?

I knew it... I knew it!

After hesitating for so long, he settles on the obvious choice, me!

How much effort did I put in just to snatch the opportunity to transfer here? How much did I have to finagle to climb the ladder from my lowly admin job in six months?

I'm the chief executive of Propeller Paradise, I'm the only one who can front it!

Oh, he even wrote a speech for me? That sly old fox, never leaves anything to chance.

'My fellow Columbians, I am Gordon Tannen, the chief executive of Propeller Paradise. I'm sure I've kept you waiting in front of your screens for some time now.'

'Now, it is with a heavy heart that I announce the official cancellation of Air Expo Columbia. A major accident occurred in the park, and as the one in charge of the place, I bear an undeniable responsibility for this...'

Wait, an accident? Is this a mistake? This is a—

A public apology?

Alert! Alert!

Patrol complete, letter not obtained. Part of the path has been blocked by a group of Terrans. Based on their travel route, they are presumably heading toward the levitation layer's experiment zone.

At the same time, detecting several high-powered Originium products on the move, bearing cargo identification tags...

They belong to Gordon Tannen.

My tags...?

Did you get the speech, Tannen?

So? Can you do it?

......

All I have to do, is do as I'm told.