1810 in the databaseDuet Night Abyss itemsItemsSearch by nameCategoryRarity1810Mistwharf (Ⅰ)DocumentsUghh... A few days ago, trying to show off in front of my friends, I climbed all the way up onto the head of the Bi'an statue behind the Admonition Stele. Now I've come down with a cold and taken a nasty fall. Feels like punishment catching up with me... I've left all of this month's pocket money at Lord Bi'an's feet. Really hope Lord Bi'an won't hold it against me...Mistwharf (Ⅱ)Documents... 21 September I felt like trying my luck today, so I opened five Lucky Eggs. The first four were nothing special: a box of toothpicks, a rag, a packet of Skylily seeds, and some throat lozenges. But the last one actually turned out to be a packet of fine Mistwharf Green Tea! Lunocarp said my luck was pretty good... could I really be Lady Luck's favourite after all!? Might try a few more when I get the chance. ... 27 September Opened ten Lucky Eggs today. Got three sachets, a voucher for osmanthus cakes, two discount coupons that each take seven silver off a better theatre seat (and they don't even stack!), a wooden brush, a hundred grams of dried peafowl droppings, the note says it's medicinal, but it's honestly just disgusting, so I'll probably bury it in the field when I get home, plus a block of ink and a box of matches. Darn it... not a single rare item these past few days! If it weren't for how cute Lunocarp is, I really wouldn't bother opening another one. 28 September Lunocarp talked me into opening more than twenty Lucky Eggs today. She said I'd hit the guarantee and could get a "super rare" one. And what was inside? Two slips of paper, pet food, and some kid stuff!!! What a rip-off! Why doesn't Bi'an step in and do something about it!? I'm done. I'm never opening another Lucky Egg again! In a minute I'm throwing the rubbish straight into the lotus pond to feed the fish!Mistwharf (Ⅲ)DocumentsI am but an old wanderer of the Wuqiongzang Sect. By chance I came upon this quiet, hidden place and made it my training ground. Now, having lived more than seventy years, it is time for these old bones to retire from the martial world. You who have found this note, to reach this place, you must possess uncommon aptitude and no small measure of courage. I have buried a treasured martial manual beneath the apricot tree in the rear court of the Hall of Ephemerality. Follow its teachings, and within half a month you will cross water without leaving a trace; train for a further half-month, and a thousand miles will be but a single day's journey to you. I leave this manual to you now. May it carry you swiftly towards the peak of your art.Mistwharf (Ⅳ)DocumentsEver since our debate that day, one thing has become clear to me: if we stay in Haze Market, we will never know what freedom truly is, nor what it costs. What we do here, all the little tricks and the loopholes we exploit, are merely ways of bending the rules without ever going beyond them. I don't want freedom that lives on compromise. There must be a freedom in this world that needs no cunning and no pretence... and I want to prove it exists. So I have to go, beyond the mountain we've looked to so many times, and further still, to heights neither of us has yet seen. Even if it means becoming a wanderer, cut loose from the world. By the time you read this, I will be far away. I've left a few gifts on the old boat by the water where we always played. Forgive me for leaving without a proper farewell, but I promise you this: we will meet again, on the day I find my answer.Mistwharf (Ⅴ)DocumentsI'd heard the Gritblight Expanse was brutally dangerous, and after today's wandering... well, it really is, terrifying at times, but thrilling all the same. Look closely and the place even has a strange sort of beauty to it; if not for the Filthoids running wild, it might pass for a scenic spot. But with nothing around me except rock and deadwood, it's far too easy to lose your bearings. I left a pack behind earlier when I stopped to rest, I'm fairly sure it was in some cave... but after circling the area for ages, I still can't find the entrance. At this rate, night will catch me out here. Forget it. Whoever comes across it can have it...Momiji: A Chronicle of Rebellion ⅠDocumentsAct Ⅰ, Nocturne of the Swans The tale opens during the reign of Yushino, third Grand Duke of Yashnia. Long before he inherited the title, Yushino was famed as a patron of the arts, immersed in painting, court verse, and letters. He maintained a grand troupe of dancers, each handpicked by the duke himself. Word of the troupe's brilliance spread so widely that nobles from both the Empire's capital and the Church's seat contrived to serve as envoys, if only to witness one performance in that seaside duchy. Yet when our curtain rises, Yushino does not praise art or boast of his refined taste. Instead he broods over the bane of his sleepless nights: too many siblings. His father, the second Grand Duke, sired more than a hundred sons, and every one of those brothers now covets the throne of so small a state. Whenever Yushino closes his eyes, their faces float before him. He once tried counting them to lull himself to sleep, only to grow more agitated. On the tenth sleepless night, he made a decision. He spent ever more time at banquets, drinking heavily in hope of a few hours' oblivion, meagre, but better than none. When courtiers counselled restraint he waved them off, declaring: "If anything in this world can grant me rest, be it at a molten mountain's core, in a whirlpool at sea, or flickering on the rim of the sky, I shall possess it." Thus, in the first year of his rule, from sunrise to moonset he held feast after feast, inviting his brothers to dine beside him. Pomegranate‑coloured wine never ceased to flow, nor did the dark veins in his bloodshot eyes fade. Beneath the crystal dome, youths in scarlet gauze danced the Swan Dance and sang without pause. Their floating sleeves swept across the nobles' cheeks, leaving them flushed, like clouds blushed by the sun before it sinks beneath the waves. And each time, the Grand Duke would raise his goblet, wine running into his beard, his smile twisting into something grotesque. Then, catching his brothers in that hazy, entranced moment, he would murmur: "Would you care to bring one of these sweet-voiced swans home, dear brother?" And under the spell of wine and swirling dancers, who could refuse such largesse? Thus a thousand swans flew out, one by one, into noble households. Parsifal's Note: In this sequence the ensemble dance is the centrepiece. Momiji appears here as one among many nameless swans. She must catch the audience's eye, but never so brightly as to break the unity of the dance. That balance is the true challenge.Momiji: A Chronicle of Rebellion ⅡDocumentsAct Ⅱ, Bloodred Meteor Shower In the third year of Grand Duke Yushino's reign, nightly revels were no longer confined to his own palace. Every one of his noble brothers had fallen under the spell of Yashnia's sweet‑voiced， graceful swans. Their songs drifted beyond the high walls of noble mansions; even the ragged street children could hum a line or two. To mark the third anniversary of his ascension, Yushino proposed that these long‑scattered swans be gathered at the celebration beneath the palace dome for a single chorus. The courtiers urged caution. The dancers had not sung together in years, they warned; if their harmony faltered before so many guests, ridicule was certain. But Yushino, half‑swallowed by his gilded throne, would not be swayed. In his mind, the voices of the swans and the pulse of his own heart were still one. The celebration began as scheduled. Nobles filled the hall. The swan dancers reunited in the centre of the marble floor. Their faces betrayed no joy, no sorrow, for they were swans, trained to sway with the music, to shape their smiles to the tune. At a single, crystal note from Yushino's favourite dancer, a thousand voices rose as one, clear and keen, like lightning splitting the sky. When the last chord fell away, silence descended, like the sea after a storm, so calm it seemed the revelry moments ago had been no more than a dream. Yushino's brothers drifted into deep, sugared dreams. He watched, envying their peace. Since taking the crown he himself had never slept so soundly. But tonight, beneath the bright moonlight, surely even he could find peace. "Tatarnaga. Four hundred and ninety‑nine insults against the Grand Duke. Verdict: execution." The voice from the throne was ice. One by one, Yushino pronounced the name of the noble who had scorned him most, and the long list of charges, meticulously recorded by the very swan dancer he had gifted Tatarnaga three years before. The dancer who had long kept close company with Tatarnaga stepped forward, her serenity unchanged. A gauzy sleeve brushed the nobleman's cheek, just as on the night they first met. Then, a dull thud. His head, still wearing the soft curve of an intoxicated smile, parted from his body before fear could reach his eyes. It sailed cleanly through the air, trailing a fine red arc, a meteor of flesh and blood. Scarlet rain spattered down, staining the swans' pristine robes. The night was young; the stars were already falling. Yushino barely glanced at the carnage. He seized the hair of the courtier who had doubted the swans' unity and snarled: "Their loyalty has never broken pitch. Fool. Drink, and be as obedient as they are!" Blood‑dark wine flooded the man's mouth and nose. He choked, certain he would drown. Then, to his astonishment, Yushino's grip slackened. The Grand Duke sagged back, and a thunderous snore rolled through the marble hall. Never had such a sound echoed in that palace, yet from that night onward it returned at the same hour every evening. Parsifal's Note: This scene calls for a solo. Traditionally, Momiji's sung by a soprano, but I've seen tenors pull it off brilliantly. I'd very much like to try it.Momiji: A Chronicle of Rebellion ⅢDocumentsAct Ⅲ, A Thousand Letters "To my most revered, most tenderly pitied, most admired Grand Duke Yushino, you who once spent three sleepless years for the continuance of Yashnia. This is the one thousand and first secret letter I have written to you, in loyalty, and in love. And as in every letter before, I write what I shall gladly write again, and again, and again: I am forever your docile swan. I am forever, forever yours. Forever and ever and ever. I imagine that, by the time you read this, a smile must have softened your weary face. One of the courtiers kneeling below your throne would stir at the sound of your laughter and ask what has pleased you so. You'd ignore him, drink half a glass of Hyperborean wine, if you drained it all, it would spill through your beard and stain your robe. You'd sip while you read, deciding whether to finish the drink in peace... or smash it in rage. Yes, I know you. Your face is etched into my heart and soul. From the day you sent me to the Lady's estate, I began to write to you. A thousand letters, sealed with wax and entrusted to birds that knew the way to your hand. And each time I pressed the seal, I knew exactly what expression you would wear as you read. Before the blood‑stained banquet where red meteors rained through the hall, you liked my letters. Not just because I was your favourite swan, but because the Lady was unlike your other kin. Though the other swans never spoke of it, I knew their noble patrons mocked you in whispers. That was why we were sent into their houses, to gather their sins behind a veil of dance. But the Lady was not like them. She never uttered a word against you. She said you were admirable, for banishing the brother who once mistreated her. She said you were pitiable, for tossing and turning through the night over your nobles' crimes. She said you were brilliant, for wrapping grand designs in feasts and song. She spoke of other things, too: of Yashnia's moon, which she saw each night; of Hyperborea's snow, which she had never seen; of Elysium's flowers, which visited only in dreams. But not once did she ask me to dance. Perhaps she had seen too many swan dances in your palace, or perhaps she had never known a real friend. I was disheartened. Swans are born to dance, yet I was left to write, with quills plucked from my own wings. And still, I hoped, that each time you opened one of those harmless little letters, the furrows on your brow would soften. And perhaps that is why, on the night of that blood‑drenched banquet, she alone walked out beneath the echo of your thunderous snores. I followed her out, as she stepped into the dawn. Her breath misted in the cold, her shoulders trembled, fear of you, or joy for your newfound peace? I could not tell. I only felt relief, that she had never once spoken ill of you. If she had, even had I disobeyed your order, the other swans would have torn her apart like ravens at your command. From that day on, I was the only swan who never returned to your palace. Outwardly, nothing changed: she still shared her stories and wishes for travels with me, and every fourth day I sent you another letter. But perhaps... it only seemed that way. Before the sun rises, all is called night. But the midnight of your thunderous snores, and the final breath before dawn, can they truly be the same? Since then, I imagine you no longer smile when you read me. You buried yourself in state affairs: reforms, punishments, suspicion. You trusted no one in Yashnia who still breathed. Even birdsong was questioned, for daring to disturb your sleep. The Lady was no exception. Her praise became flattery. Her silence, a hidden slight. Her advice, betrayal. How could you? Allow me to be plain: from my first autumn in her estate, she let me stop calling myself "swan." By now I expect you have hurled your wineglass in rage, Grand Duke Yushino. You saved me from starvation, made me your ever-dancing swan. But she is the one who taught that swan to be a person. She never asked me to dance, because people are not swans. To protect her, I was ever obedient, ever gentle, ever yours. Always fearing your fury would fall on her. But your suspicion grew like mould in the dark. I defended her, again and again. Until seven days ago, when you summoned her to the palace... and she never returned. So now, I ask just one thing: Is she still alive? I no longer wish to be anyone's swan. If she is gone, then I shall tread upon the shards of your shattered glass, even if my feet must bleed to reach you, until your blood spills like wine and dyes your robe crimson. By the time you reach this line, I will already be standing before you, ready to pierce this letter, and your throat, with the very same blade." "Raise your head and answer me, Yushino!" Parsifal's Note: Except for the final line, the entire scene is sung by Yushino as he reads Momiji's letter aloud. The performance must reflect the full emotional arc within the letter, from deferential restraint, to repressed grief, to seething fury. The true challenge lies in moving seamlessly and convincingly between Yushino's visible reactions and the inner voice of Momiji, gradually rising to its breaking point. It demands exceptional control.Momiji: A Chronicle of Rebellion ⅣDocumentsAct Ⅳ, A Speck of Crimson "That was only an acci..." The Lady's death might indeed have been an accident. But even a swan knows: without Grand Duke Yushino's command, no gaoler would dare fetch the tools of torture. And of all people, the limping figure now standing before him knew Yushino best, and hated him most. So before he could finish the sentence, she drove her sword straight through his skull. The tip of the blade first reached his tongue, a soft, writhing strip of flesh that split in two, bright red. It reminded her of a serpent's tongue. The Lady had once said she feared nothing more than the eight-headed serpent from Yashnia's ancient myths. Then came something firmer, the upper palate. Heavy drinkers often complained of a burning sensation there. Yushino had drunk often, and well. Maybe his was tougher than most. Or maybe not, the steel passed through without resistance. After that, everything was easy: the hindbrain. Some say it governs sleep. Years ago, Yushino scoured the land for physicians to cure his insomnia. One had told him the problem lay in his hindbrain. She no longer remembered whether that poor man had ended up with his skull smashed or his tongue cut out. Now, Yushino had suffered both. A shattered skull and a severed tongue, quite a poetic ending for him, right? Before his bloodied lips could kiss the edge of her blade, she pulled it free. A spray of scarlet spattered a folding screen; the fabric drank it in, the stain blooming like red leaves. She remembered the day the Lady told her she no longer needed to call herself a swan. It was an autumn afternoon, just before the frost set in. A northern wind from Hyperborea had swept away the last warmth lingering over Yashnia, only to spend all its strength in doing so. The sea turned bitter‑cold overnight. No nobles dared swim; no fishermen dared cast their nets. Further inland, the farmers had just finished harvesting the wheat, yet still fretted that rain might come too soon and spoil the drying grain. Children, sent out reluctantly at the adults' urging, were tasked with picking up the fallen stalks, only to end up bickering over trifles halfway through. From the houses by the fields came the warm scent of fresh bread, baked with the season's first wheat. Cooking smoke curled gently from the chimneys. Through that smoke flew the migratory birds bound south, save one small bird, a ribbon tied to its leg, winging the opposite way. It slipped through the domes and rooftops to deliver the four hundredth secret letter to Grand Duke Yushino. It was his first year on the throne. Amidst sleepless nights, he had only just begun his long campaign, to purge his enemies and secure his rule. Perhaps the gods who govern the seasons took pity on his resolve and granted Yashnia another golden harvest. And in that hush of ripened wheat, not far from the palace, in a quiet courtyard, a swan said no. A cold wind stirred. The trees in the Lady's courtyard groaned softly, as if in pain. Red leaves drifted down like blood. One struck the Lady's face. She flinched with a startled yelp, like a cat caught by sudden darkness. The limping one reached out and gently brushed the leaf away. The Lady's cheeks were flushed from the cold. She looked at her and said: "From now on, you don't have to call yourself a swan. Your name... will be Momiji. Only I will know this. Only I may call you this." The swan hesitated. She agreed to stop calling herself a bird, but cautiously declined the name Momiji, afraid that if she heard it too often, she might come to love it. And along with it... too many other things. She could no longer recall what happened next. Only that, somehow, she had cried, though she never knew quite why. Tears are warm at first. But they soon turn cold. And so do the red leaves, fiery in hue, cold in the hand. Cold, like Yushino's blood already congealing on marble. Perhaps it was because she hadn't danced in so long. She might have avoided the spatter, yet one drop landed on the hilt of her sword. She tried to wipe the red away, again and again. But it wouldn't come off. And that brought her back to the moment when a red leaf had fallen onto the Lady's face. She had tried to brush it away, too, but hadn't been able to. As if she were waiting for someone else to do it for her. She lingered again in that autumn, seven years ago, where everything had seemed well. So be it, then. Let that speck of crimson remain. She made no further attempt to wipe the blood away. Nor did she shy from the name Momiji any longer. She turned and walked away, unchallenged, and alone. Thus closed the tale of Momiji: A Chronicle of Rebellion. Parsifal's Note: The protagonist's name, Momiji, isn't revealed until the very final act. When the play first debuted, this twist had tremendous impact. But now, after so many stagings, most audiences know it going in. It's a shame, there's nothing quite like the first time. Here's an excerpt from the historical record. Might be useful... "According to official chronicles, the third Grand Duke of Yashnia, Yushino, reigned for ten years. In the early years, he purged his political enemies and swept away many of the entrenched ills left by his predecessor, the second Grand Duke. But toward the end of his rule, he grew increasingly suspicious of his own kin. Eventually, he ordered the imprisonment and torture of his sister, resulting in her death. The very next day, he himself was found dead. By then, the fall of Yashnia, to either the Empire or the Elysian Church, had already become inevitable. That the Church ultimately took it... well, that's a matter for another chapter on court conspiracies. As for Yushino's death, three theories persist: suicide brought on by madness, sudden death from chronic alcoholism, and assassination by a swordswoman named Momiji. The third is deemed the least credible, and yet, it remains the version most widely believed. This account is also said to have inspired the now-famous play Momiji: A Chronicle of Rebellion.My Dearest ComradesDocuments1. Labby, 5, Male True to his Labrador roots, Labby is a voracious eater with a heart of gold. He's usually well-behaved, though he once had a stint in solitary for snatching food from a "fur-llow worker". Labby is brave on the battlefield, but his overly enthusiastic tail-wagging has been known to cause friendly fire incidents. 2. Sammie, 6, Female Sammie, our stunning little lady, may not be the sharpest, but she's everyone's sweetheart. Known for her exceptional cuddling skills, she holds the title of Chief Canine Morale Officer. Every time I sneak her out to let fellow soldiers pet her, she brightens everyone's day effortlessly. She's not cut out for complex tasks, but she's a pro at finding supplies (especially food). 3. Kollie, 8, Female The alpha of the pack. Kollie is exceptional in every way, especially in intelligence. She's a master at finding the safest and most efficient routes. But being too smart can have a downside, her brilliance sometimes eclipses the commander... It's no surprise she hasn't climbed the ranks despite her years of dedicated service. 4. If I had known that one day I'd have to say goodbye to all of you, I would never have kept these notes that now only bring tears. My sweet pups, my silly children... you didn't have a nation to serve or a mission to fulfil, why did you give it all...? In your next lives, may you be pampered family dogs in noble households... or better yet, may you be free-born in the wild, living lives full of joy, far from the reaches of human cruelty. How I wish… I could… with you… …If only… if we… how wonderful that would be…My WillDocumentsToday I am going to write my will I still dont really know what a will is. I heard the fine lords saying it when they walked past. There was an old man dying and they said he had to write his will before he went. I didnt understand it much, but it sounded like something fancy. They all sounded happy too, like the old man dying and writing his will was a good thing. So before I die I ought to write a will too I am probly not even old enough for that. At the ironworks they call the gate man that old bastard. Some people even call the stationmaster that when they got enough guts. But nobody ever called me old. They call me kid, oi you, or that Charon there But that dont stop me dying. And it dont stop me writing a will neither Only I still havent thought what to write. I never had much schooling. I dont know how long I was in school for. Not long I guess. I got sent out to work soon enough. There was no other way. My ma was dying then and she needed money so I stopped going to school and went to work But she died in the end anyway So thats me, a useless Karon. I am bad at working and bad at talking when people talk to me. I think maybe I am no use at all... No, not no use. I am good for getting yelled at. Maybe people feel better after they yell at me. My dad does. When he drinks he yells at me, then he hits me, then the next day he says sory to me. Sometimes I think he does it on purpose. He just wants to hit somebody and nobody else will let him I keep thinking if anyone will be sad after I die. I guess my dad will. He wont have anyone to hit after that. I need a good way to die. One where there is still some money after. But I havent thought of one yet. I hope my dying can at least buy my dad a bottle of wine, or else I really am too useless. I wish I could die like that old man the fine lords were talking about. They all sounded so happy, like the old man dying was a good thing Alright. I went off again. I have to think of a good way to die. But I still havent thought of one. Maybe if I wait a bit I wont want to die any more But its so f***ing funny. I wrote all this and I still cant think of one thing I want to live for... Forget it then. I will just die Alright that is all for my will. I dont know what else to write. If I could get that old mans will maybe I could copy it and make mine look better. But I cant get it obviously. Anyway that is all. I am going to think how to do it nowNotice: External Trade Temporarily SuspendedDocumentsTo all residents of Mistwharf: In light of the Scourge of Zhuyin, contamination within the Gritblight Expanse continues to intensify and is now spreading outward. Sable Bi'an have been frequently sighted in the surrounding regions and pose a grave threat to public safety. Effective immediately, EverSpring will suspend all overland trade from Mistwharf to the interior that passes through designated high-risk zones. This measure has been submitted to the Ministry of Fortune for approval. All residents are required to comply with this directive and must not endanger their lives in pursuit of trivial profit. For enquiries or unresolved matters, please contact EverSpring.Ode to the Nine ChaptersDocuments"Ah! How magnificent are the Nine Chapters of Dafeng! When chaos first gave way, the Nine Chapters were set in place; By the covenant of the two divine lords, the standard was forged; The Argent Loong upheld the law, and inscribed the righteous way; High it stands, vast and unshaken, never to be toppled! ... Great indeed, great indeed!" Marginal note, in another hand: The opening and closing are predictably trite, and the middle offers nothing worth keeping. Rewrite.On Incense Offerings: Observances of SacrificeDocumentsPrepare a red calf; burn it to the south, in sacrifice unto High Heaven. Take sheep and swine, and bury them to the north, in sacrifice unto the Bounteous Earth. To the east, offer unto the Sun; to the west, unto the Moon. Establish the pit and altar, and offer separate rites to the Four Quarters and the Four Seasons. At the time of sacrifice, the Three Masters of Rites shall officiate. Whoso Taihao favours shall bear the Lunarose Incense and stand at the centre, to make offering unto the Divine Lord. Whoso is broadly learned shall bear the Sumei Incense and stand to the left, to make offering unto the ancestors. Whoso excels in the myriad arts shall bear the Aurumwood Incense and stand to the right, to make offering unto the Spirits of Land and Grain. Let no garments be adorned with deep indigo or dark crimson; let neither red nor purple be worn as inner raiment. Speak not during the rite. When the offerings are complete, keep watch over the sacrificial fire for the space of a quarter-hour. Let sacrificial food not be kept overnight; should it be kept beyond three days, it shall not be used. Note: These regulations are intricate and lavish, and do not accord with the temper of Huaxu today. They are set down here only as a record of former times and ought not to be restored.On Life and Death in HuaxuDocumentsIn Huaxu, the Earthborn (the Solarian people) and the Loongscion (the Charon people) share a single doctrine concerning life and death, an occurrence of notable rarity. In most regions of the world, these two groups diverge, at least in part, in their beliefs. Even within Elysian, a theocratic state, there remain Charon who continue to uphold older traditions. It is known that the forebears of Huaxu were originally Charon natives of this land, who later intermarried with migrants from the "Tower" that arrived around Year 1010 of the Sacred Tower Era. It is therefore reasonable to infer that the distinctive cultural unity now found in Huaxu has its roots in a shared aspiration toward harmonious coexistence. People in Huaxu hold that upon death, one's soul proceeds to the Underworld, drinks from the waters of the River of Forgetting, severs all attachments to the present life, and is then reborn. This conception of unceasing renewal bears some resemblance to the Misty Sea traditions observed among the Charon people, yet it differs in one subtle respect: Huaxu doctrine appears to allow that the dead retain a measure of their own awareness. According to Huaxu tradition, if the deceased continue to harbour attachments to the living world, they may defer rebirth and take on a form known as the Wishen, remaining among the living. This should not be conflated with the conventional "ghost" of fantasy literature; the concept is fundamentally distinct. Within Huaxu culture, Wishen are commonly portrayed as friendly, playful, and gentle beings who aid the living and engage with them in lighthearted ways, rather than instilling fear or causing harm.Opened LetterDocuments...My dear friend, I'm retiring next year, and I have little confidence that the new head of the Security Bureau will look out for Hypnos' House the way I have all these years. I fear you will need to be even more discreet and cautious moving forward...Overdue NoticesDocuments"Mr Ethelred, please be reminded that the quarterly expenses of Hypnos' House now substantially exceed those aggregated by all inns in Icelake Suburb. While we are not in a position to question how your funds are being used, it is our duty to inform you that your debt has been overdue for two months. Should the outstanding balance not be cleared promptly, we will be compelled to initiate forced collection measures against Hypnos' House in the coming days."Popular Characters in Huaxu Baby NamesDocuments... No. 24: Si The character Si encompasses both reflective thought and quiet longing. It combines readily with other naming elements to express particular aspirations, for instance, Siyan ("thoughtful words"), Sigui ("yearning to return"), or Jingsi ("quiet contemplation"). It is also a frequent choice in generational names. ... No. 11: Feng Feng, the same character appearing in the Nine Chapters of Dafeng, carries a dignified, commanding air and traditionally reflects parents' hopes for future achievement. In recent years, however, younger parents have favoured it for its literal meaning..."wind" wishing their child might grow freely, like a passing breeze. ... No. 5: Yu Yu, meaning "jade," evokes an image of a child cherished like the stone itself, gentle, refined, and precious. In Huaxu prosody, Yu is not a level-tone syllable, so pairing it with a level-tone character gives the name a smoother, more harmonious sound. ... No. 1: Liu Liu draws on imagery of flowing water and carries a calm, philosophical resonance. It appears in several classical Huaxu expressions originally featuring the character Liu, such as "enduring as a long river" and "following what is good as naturally as water flows". It has long been a well-loved character, but its recent surge owes much to Zhiliu, the current High Chancellor of Loongyuan. Since her appointment, not only has Liu risen sharply in popularity, but several visually similar Huaxu-script characters have also seen a remarkable uptick in use.Prop Log · Galea TheatreDocuments8-Oct Organized: Costumes and sleeping bags. Logged by: Mondry (Note: Food supplies are running low. We'll need to bring in another batch soon to prepare for the upcoming month-long intensive rehearsals.) ... 12-Nov Replaced: Three new microphones. Logged by: Grinde (Note: One microphone produces an unusually loud sound, but Director Putsch insisted that it remain as is.) 14-Nov Updated: Red curtain installed; gold curtain returned to storage. Logged by: Bell ... 24-Nov Retrieved: Five missing wigs. Logged by: Bell (Note: The dressing room corners are cluttered and seem to hide all sorts of things. I'll clean them out today.) 25-Nov Organized: Fifteen flower crowns; nine pairs of riding boots. Logged by: MondryPsyche Frey's ProfileDocumentsName: Psyche Frey Age: 17 Symptoms: Intermittent blindness ... When Psyche arrived, her Deterioration had already progressed to the mid-stage. Yet, she greeted everyone with such warmth. I wish I could believe the diagnosis was wrong, that she wasn't suffering from Deterioration, and that her life could somehow get back on track. ... She keeps the flowers her parents brought her by her bedside, even though it leaves her barely any space to sleep or even stand. ... I cleared out a better-lit room on the second floor. Hopefully, Psyche and her flowers will be more comfortable there. ... She really loves flowers. Every day, she tends to them with care and shares them with the other children. If it weren't for the shadow of Deterioration, she would have taken care of the Flowers of Solicitude even better than her parents ever did. ... Today, Psyche gave me a flower too. Her peaceful smile reminded me of you, Hayley... ... Psyche saw me frowning over the finances today and wouldn't stop pestering me until I told her about Hypnos' House's financial struggles. (Note: Must reply to the buyer soon. Can't let the children keep worrying about this.) ... Psyche cleaned out the old house and even rented it to some kid with a shady background... I just hope that kid doesn't stir up trouble for Hypnos' House. ... Psyche told me she wished to live longer as a human, even if just for one more day. I was both relieved and furious to hear that. I felt relieved because Psyche finally opened up, after trying to be strong for so long. I felt furious because of that blasted kid! I don't know what that little rascal said to her, but giving false hope to someone who's destined to leave the world soon, that's the cruellest thing one could do. If you don't have what it takes to save Psyche, then leave her alone! (Note: The anti-Deterioration drug is nearly ready. Fate... please have mercy on her for once...) ...Purgatorio Island: Volume ⅠDocumentsJanuary 1st Today, ▇▇▇▇ gave me some Phoxene shards as "pocket money." She said that back in the capital, kids get pocket money from their elders before they come of age, to spend on treats or toys. There aren't any shops around here, so she told me to save it. Then, when there's something I really want or need, I can use it to ask for her help. Thing is... I can't really think of anything I want. January 2nd I've got it! I could get Vita a "birthday present"! Maybe one of those "birthday cakes" kids in the capital have when they turn a year older, I read they're really tasty! They might be expensive... but if I save enough pocket money to give to ▇▇▇▇, I bet she could help me get one. I found an old clay jar in the kitchen. It's just right for keeping my savings. January 16th We were playing hide-and-seek today, and Vita found the jar and almost opened it... I need to find a better hiding spot. Maybe tomorrow I'll sneak into the room where ▇▇▇▇ does her alchemy work. There are loads of strange machines in there, she never lets Vita go near them. January 17th I hid my piggy bank under the waterfall, right next to the alchemy chamber. That way, neither Vita nor ▇▇▇▇ will stumble across it. ... ▇▇ ▇▇ Vita's birthday is coming up, and I've saved a whole box full of pocket money. It should be enough for a cake. But ▇▇▇▇ seems really busy these days. She's been staying up late a lot... Maybe it's not the right time to bother her. I guess I'll ask her next year. With another year of saving, I can get an even bigger cake, big enough for all three of us.Purgatorio Island: Volume ⅡDocumentsDear Berry, If you are reading this letter, it means you've returned after all. You've always been a good girl, and I trust you had your reasons for coming back. I've left some supplies for you, buried near the airship, they should be enough to get you both off Purgatorio Island. I wish you the best on your journey. Stay safe.Purgatorio Island: Volume ⅢDocumentsThe Goddess of Fate weaves the stars into their paths, gifting us with guiding lights that lead us towards eternal bliss. Yet, in our times, humanity has strayed from Her teachings. We have forsaken the bonds of love and compassion, choosing instead to arm ourselves with cold steel against our own kin. Our sacred lands have crumbled, and even Her sanctuaries have been defiled. Should this be the ordeal She has devised, a sombre prelude to the dawn, then to you, the destined one who will one day reach this place, I offer a blessing that transcends time. In a place overlooked by Her gaze, I have hidden the final legacy of an age when humanity cherished love and solidarity. May Her tender threads of fate lead you to the true dawn.Purgatorio Island: Volume ⅣDocumentsTime, slips swiftly by, ever a fading treasure. In the distant corners of memory, truth stays hidden. Having pierced countless illusions, the path leads under. Through winding stone, with divine light, to the forgotten cave. In lands devoid of life and hope, a new cycle takes root.Qing's WishDocuments... The leaf had long since turned yellow, yet the traces of ink upon it remained clear. Yin Qing studied it, gave a long, wistful sigh, and after a moment allowed himself a faint smile. "I once wished to roam the world," he said to Feng, "yet my father and mother would not permit it. So I wrote upon this green leaf and set it adrift with the current, to ease my longing. Now that you have chanced upon it, carry it with you on your travels, that my wish may journey beside you." Feng was silent for a long while. Then he replied, "Why should we not travel together?" ... When they reached the Lin River, Feng was stricken with a grave illness and lay bedridden. Qing said, "Rest now, and recover your strength. I shall remain here until you are well; then we shall set out again." But Feng would not agree. He drew forth the withered leaf and pressed it into Qing's hand. "Take this leaf," he said. "Go far. Let it be as though we still travel side by side." ... Qing travelled far and wide, and in time he filled an entire chest with his verses. Wherever he went, he won admirers who pressed him to remain, yet he declined them all. In his later years, he returned once more to the familiar banks of the Lin. Before Feng's grave, he buried the withered leaf in the soil and laid fresh green leaves above it. Upon a leaf he inscribed two lines: "Green leaves lie upon your grave; The ache in my heart drifts with the stream."Request for Additional Maintenance ManpowerDocuments[Reason for Request] Manpower shortage for fortress mechanism maintenance [Details of Request] Requesting the assignment of 14 technicians from the Aeolipile Alchademy for maintenance duties as follows: 5 technicians to service the central turret's firing and positioning modules. 3 technicians to maintain the fluid transfer well. 4 technicians to oversee the upkeep of supply transport routes. 2 technicians to conduct tests on the water pump control systems. [Decision] Request denied [Reason] The Aeolipile Alchademy has determined that the maintenance tasks described are of low complexity and do not require specialized technicians. These tasks can be adequately completed by the fortress's existing logistical staff. [Additional Remarks] To manage the manpower shortage, the command group recommends dividing the maintenance tasks based on their level of confidentiality. Classified tasks should be managed by military logistics personnel. Non-classified tasks may involve conscripting able-bodied Charon civilians from nearby villages under the Wartime Emergency Conscription Act. Should our current personnel be unable to perform classified maintenance, these conscripted Charon citizens may be assigned as needed, with all subsequent procedures handled according to confidentiality protocols.Request for Drainage System UpgradeDocuments[Reason for Request] There are recognized safety hazards with the current design of the sewer drainage system. A few days ago, a patrol soldier accidentally activated a mechanism in Reservoir #3, causing the water level to rise above the critical threshold. This triggered an electrical fault and resulted in injuries. [Details of Request] Requesting technical support from the Aeolipile to refine and improve the operational mechanisms of the drainage system. [Decision] Request denied [Reason] The fortress has functioned for decades without such incidents, suggesting that the recent incident is attributed to individual error rather than a systemic issue. [Additional Remarks] This request has been forwarded to the Commission for Discipline Inspection. Effective immediately, new regulations have been added to the fortress's operational guidelines: Any unauthorised operation or mishandling of drainage mechanisms will result in a demotion by one military rank.Rites of Incense OfferingDocumentsRite of Divine Veneration The Argent Incense joins Heaven, Earth, mortals, and the divine, bearing the grace bestowed by Lord Argent. Through its rising smoke, we offer our reverence. Lord Argent is all-seeing and cares not for the number of sticks; sincerity alone reaches the divine. Worshipers may receive three offering sticks each day from the shrine. When offering incense, observe the following essentials: 1. Purity of Body and Mind Before the rite, attire shall be proper, and both body and mind kept clean and composed. 2. Proper Kindling Hold the incense with the tips downward to take flame. Once all three sticks are fully kindled, take them properly in hand. 3. Correct Bearing With the incense burning, hold it in both hands and stand upright with your head slightly bowed. The tips shall remain level and must never be directed towards another person. 4. The Three Reverent Bows • First Bow: Before the holy image of Lord Argent, bow with head lowered, in reverence for the Nine Chapters of Dafeng, which uphold order. • Second Bow: Bow again, in reverence to Lord Argent, whose grace reaches all living beings. • Third Bow: Bow once more, in reverence to Bi'an, the divine beast who discerns right from wrong. When the rite is complete, set the sticks upright in the censer, then withdraw with measured, reverent steps. Incense is offered not for protection alone, but also in gratitude for divine grace. In our daily conduct, we shall uphold the precepts of the Nine Chapters of Dafeng and cultivate virtue, for therein lies true reverence.Rules of ArcanoDocumentsRule Ⅰ Mount Arcano is our Paradise, and we are all Mother Bunny's White Bunnies. Rule Ⅱ White Bunnies must love one another. Violence between White Bunnies is forbidden. When conflicts arise, they must be settled through games. Rule Ⅲ Bunnies come in many colors. White Bunnies are friends. Red Bunnies are dangerous. If you see a Red Bunny, report it to the chief at once. Rule Ⅳ The Parade is Arcano's monthly grand celebration. During the Parade, all Bunnies must complete one game together. Rule Ⅴ The toys of Mount Arcano are our friends. You may accept their help and protection. Rule Ⅵ All White Bunnies must remember their Arcana names. They reveal our essence. We must never act against it. Rule Ⅶ The giant metal man in the sky is the enemy of Paradise. If the giant metal man appears, stop whatever you are doing and proceed at once to the Pond of Slumber. Rule Ⅷ For those who have broken the rules, the Pond of Slumber will help them find peace again. Rule Ⅸ Unless the giant metal man appears, no one may approach the Pond of Slumber without the chief's permission. Rule Ⅹ To keep our lives from being disturbed by the outside world, no White Bunny may leave Paradise without permission.Safety InstructionsDocumentsPlease follow the instructions below when operating this attraction (especially you, Ada!!!): 1. For safety, make sure at least two people are present before use. 2. Before use, check that all connections are secure. If anything needs fixing, the toolbox is behind the attraction. (If Ada is sent to fetch it, make sure she puts every tool back where it belongs.) 3. Once everything is secure, start it up. Loud noises during startup and a longer-than-usual startup time are both normal. (Hopefully it won't scare the children.) 4. If you run into a problem you can't fix, ask Morgana to handle it. (Do NOT let Ada try to fix anything by herself! Unless the problem seems too easy and you feel like unlocking hard mode.) 5... ... (The rest of the text is illegible.)Say Goodbye to Poverty and Achieve Financial FreedomDocumentsDear friend, congratulations! You've successfully passed our test and earned your chance to join us! Enclosed, you'll find a piece of Phoxene as a modest welcome gift, yes, a "modest" one! Because this is merely an hour's yield from one of our new mining machines at Glevum Pit. That's right, our incredible machines can extract precious Phoxene even from exhausted veins! History has taught us that the profit margins from new technology do not last forever! To stay ahead of the curve, we warmly invite you to come aboard! By registering as a member, you can lease our groundbreaking mining machines at a fraction of the cost. You'll only need to share 10% of your Phoxene haul, the rest is all yours to keep! The more you mine, the more you earn, with no limits, financial freedom is no longer just a dream! Plus, the first 10 new members will also receive awesome gifts. What are you waiting for? Just sign up today!Scattered Diary: Volume ⅠDocuments... September 14 I should be safe here. After all, ever since Brendan's expeditionary forces withdrew from here hundreds of years ago, this place has been an uninhabited island abandoned by the Church and ignored by the Empire. It's not marked ... on ordinary maps either. I can finally get a good night's sleep. ... must be exhausted by now as well. Tomorrow, I need to hide ... more discreetly and thoroughly explore the island. If I remember correctly, Brendan's expeditionary forces seemed to ... discover a massive temple. If I can find the ruins of that temple, then I can use it to shelter from the elements ... September 15 I only discovered this island is inhabited today. How unexpected. Their accents have started to differ slightly from the common tongue, but we can still communicate in a simple manner. They claim to be descendants of fishermen from the Empire who came here to avoid conscription. I'm not surprised by their ... looks. They're probably worried I'll inform the Empire that ... , and attract imperial troops. Hah! When it comes to avoiding the Empire, I... Well, it's better to steer clear of them as much as possible. It would be bad if I brought them into this mess. ...Scattered Diary: Volume ⅡDocuments... September 15 I found an abandoned temple in the valley, and ... can't describe it as "gigantic". Maybe the expeditionary forces at the time intentionally exaggerated its size, ... Anyway, it's big enough for us to take shelter in. This is the first time that seeing a church statue has made me feel... Anyway, thanks, nameless goddess. September 20 Behind the walls deep within the temple ... the sound of flowing water. Perhaps there's a hidden door here... gotta find it out. ...Scattered Diary: Volume ⅢDocuments... September 27 How should I put it? To be honest, I really don't understand why ... Those believers invested so much time and resources into constructing such a massive building. But this is undoubtedly a good thing for us right now. A ruin of this size is enough for ... and even leaves us with a room for ... Although I can't predict the consequences of ... , I feel like there's a force driving me to ... Maybe I still have a glimmer of hope ... When ... , then ... can make contact with the villagers below ... Forget it, what can I gain from socialising with them anyway? The Empire has long since ... I need to think about ... And also record life here: Abundant fresh water. The one thing this temple lacks the least. ... can be found in the forest and fish can be caught by the coast. Most of the injuries I sustained in past battles have pretty much healed. Next, I'll try to set some traps for ... Oh yeah, the entrance mechanism can be modified ... October 12 I've modified the entrance mechanism so it won't be easy for anyone to enter. But still, I should be prepared for the worst. I always feel ... won't give up easily. I just hope ... can escape. Although those villagers may not be very friendly, but at least I... ...Scrunched NoteDocumentsBuddy, you okay? You've been yawning a ton. I had to stay up till 3 AM for extra target practice because my shooting scores were terrible :'‑( That's rough... But you better watch it, if the officer catches you, you're screwed. I'm trying to hold it in, but can't help it :( Remember that Charon who talked back to the officer the other day? The one that fixed the tracks, do you know where he ended up? Yeah, I heard he wrapped up his work early so they sent him back :‑| Nah. We're low on fuel, there's no way they'd waste resources sending someone out of the fortress. Where's he then? :‑o I saw a human finger in the military dogs' food bowl yesterday. What do you think? !!? Okay, okay, I'm wide awake now! No more horror stories!Secret Histories of the Forsakens (Ⅰ)DocumentsThe "Benefactor" so named for their role as giver, is one of the few Forsaken leaders whose existence can be confirmed. True to their name, they are famed for immense wealth. Before we go further, two points must be made clear: first, the Forsakens are not a profit-driven organisation; second, most of their members possess no honest livelihood. Indeed, the Forsakens care little for profit, their focus lies squarely in undermining the order of the Hyperborean Empire. Other resistance groups may raid treasuries or stage kidnappings for ransom, but the Forsakens have never stooped to such schemes. This makes them easy to distinguish: if a crime was committed for money, it likely wasn't their doing. The Forsakens care only for destruction. Alchemy factories, interregional roads, and the manors of prominent officials are among their favourite targets. Some claim this pattern reflects a kind of moral fastidiousness in their founders. I cannot agree. Morality restrains those who revere rules, but given the Forsakens' origins and conduct, one can hardly argue that morality plays any meaningful part in shaping them. According to statistics gathered by Warden Hellfire, at least half the Forsaken members now imprisoned had already been convicted of other crimes before joining the organisation. Thugs, petty thieves, armed robbers, criminals unmoved by the law, let alone by morality. Yet once inside the Forsakens, none of them committed crimes for money alone. This can only mean the organisation upholds a code more binding than law, and possesses financial resources sufficient to sustain its members' lives, even to fuel their crimes. From this, Warden Hellfire drew a prediction: among the Forsakens' leaders, there must be one who bears the cost of the organisation's daily needs. As the Forsakens grew active again and more members were thrown behind bars, a certain codename began surfacing in warden reports..."Benefactor." The "Benefactor" is said to reach out in one's hour of deepest desperation, sending a letter with whatever the recipient most craves. Most often it is money; at times, something bloodier, a grisly token of vengeance, such as the severed limb of a sworn enemy. Though recipients may technically refuse these sudden acts of generosity, the timing is so uncannily precise that in practice, no one ever does. And so, wastrels and dangerous marauders alike find themselves drawn into the Forsakens. When their old vices drag them back into hardship, another letter arrives. After several such cycles, they become puppets, marionettes strung with coin, dancing at the Benefactor's whim. The tasks assigned differ little from their former crimes. A thief is told to break the chains on an alchemy factory gate. A bomber, to plant charges beside its Phoxichor engine. A repeat escapee, to present himself before the constables, drawing their attention elsewhere. Thus, strangers who've never met, acting solely on the direction of letters from a single hand, carry out crimes near impossible to unravel. None of them knows whether they have accomplices, whether they're the bait in someone else's scheme, or what the mission's true purpose might be. Such is the Benefactor's method. Though their schemes leave ample traces, the Benefactor makes no real effort to conceal their presence. To the wardens, each letter sent to an underling reads like an open declaration of war. And so, in the years when the Benefactor was most active, wardens across the Hyperborean Empire poured untold hours into unmasking them. In theory, it should have been simple. The Benefactor's letters came with great sums of money, and wealth, after all, leaves a trail. Soon enough, the wardens caught a supposed Benefactor: a cloth merchant in Scarletriver who had recently struck it rich. He claimed he had taken up the name out of outrage at the Empire's oppression of the Charon, and that his crimes were acts of rebellion. To any clear-eyed observer, it was a flimsy excuse. No ordinary merchant could bankroll a resistance force spanning the continent. This "Benefactor" was nothing but a decoy, a scapegoat. So the wardens pressed on. One captured, then another... more than ten in all, over the span of two years. Yet the Forsakens' resistance showed no sign of waning. There could be no doubt: above these pretenders stood a true magnate, one wealthy enough to bankroll a dozen prosperous merchants at once. So the wardens followed every lead, tracing financial channels in search of the true Benefactor. But they found nothing, no records of large transfers, no sign of hidden accounts. The merchants they'd seized came from every walk of life: different trades, origins, ages, genders, even quirks of personality. Their only common ground was this: each had found sudden success in recent years, and each commanded considerable wealth. Every one of them swore the funds used to support Forsaken operations came from their own trade, and all, with striking unanimity, claimed they had adopted the name "Benefactor" out of discontent with the Empire's oppression of the Charon. It was all too familiar. Just as Forsaken criminals ignored the law but never broke their own code, so too must these merchants have been lured by profit, or threatened into compliance, to act in such perfect unison. The wardens reached a chilling conclusion: however the true Benefactor passed their money to these seemingly law-abiding merchants, they must possess insight beyond ordinary men, and a hand ruthless enough to enforce obedience. How many such merchants might already dance to their tune was impossible to say. If the merchants were fishermen chasing the tides along the shore, then the Benefactor was the one who commanded the sea itself. A trace of fear crept into the wardens' hearts. Perhaps this Benefactor truly stood at some higher vantage, and perhaps their very investigation was already unfolding in the palm of their hand. Yet for most ordinary folk, the details scarcely matter. They know only this: that within the Forsakens is a leader known as the Benefactor, one of Atlasia's three great magnates, spoken of in the same breath as Ms Zhiliu of Huaxu and Lord Generous, one of the Seven Virtues of Elysium. Tavern chatter delights in speculation: how many zeroes trail the sum of their fortune; how many roast turkeys and lambs vanish at their table in a single feast; whether the candles in their manor ever need be blown out to save on lamp oil... And for those at the end of their rope, one last hope remains: that when they wake from their dreams, a letter from the Benefactor will be waiting before them.Silvercandle Hymn (Ⅲ)DocumentsⅢ. The Gift of Fate From revelry did tragedy arise; From the eternal was born what must pass. South of Lamenting Lake, the snows lay deep. And those from gentler lands had never beheld such boundless white. Fallen feathers, ashen earth, lips pale as the ivory lake's milk-stone. What once was marvel at the snow became dread of death. Empty bellies growled, heralds of despair unborn. Even Soranus, fairest and steadfast, Scoured desperately for a single morsel. But not even Soranus could conjure wheat from icefields. He gnawed upon blocks of snow, Leant upon his longsword as a crutch, And ventured into the blizzard for one last charge, Hoping fate concealed a gift beyond the winter's end. When the storm at last relented, A village appeared above Lamenting Lake. With the last of his strength, Soranus knocked upon its gate, And gave thanks for fate's final, merciful gift. Yet perhaps, for he and his brother had spurned the gods, He knew not in that hour the first verse of his downfall was already writ.Silvercandle Hymn (Ⅳ)DocumentsⅣ. The Snow-Owl's Ballad, Canto Ⅰ The snow-owl rejoiced, the snow-owl sang, Thrice it wheeled through the nighted sky, Seeking fattened mice to still its hunger. Yet beneath the vault of the Far North, No breath of life was to be found... Save for that place, A hamlet of snow, a village of ice. The Charon hastened upon the lake's edge , While from the south the Solarian sang. The fish cast off its cloak of brine, Unfolding blossoms of glistening fat, More fragrant than the buds of a springvine. The mash unveiled as its froth fell away, Revealing crimson draperies of the closing day, More splendid than autumn's dusk. Since the day Soranus struck the door of that village by Lamenting Lake, The feast where strangers became kin has never ceased. Every Sola laid down their sword, And embraced the Charon newly met, Praising their bounty, Giving thanks for their shelter. Even Dis Galea, ever wary, Exchanged oaths with the Charon's chief, Swearing to treat the Charon as brothers, as dear as Soranus himself, To stand as one against Filthoids, against winter, against every foe to come. Even the snow-owl, vigilant hunter, raised its voice in joy, And sought to alight upon the laden platters that it, too, would share the feast.Silvercandle Hymn (Ⅸ)DocumentsⅨ. The Dissolving of Hatred Ten times did the ice of Lamenting Lake melt, and ten times it froze anew. And in the villages the Charon's dread deepened day by day, For ten years past it was they who had plotted a massacre that failed, And it was they who must now taste its bitter fruit. Dis Galea, clinging to life by Fate's frail thread, Endured the harsh winters of the North by means unknown, And with the silver tide of his host he laid waste to every land round about. At last he came, And with his coming an ending surely fell. With his host he cast down in swift might the fortress reared upon Soranus's grave. The Charon, in despair, murmured prayers to Mother Embla, Believing that this day would see them sink into the Misty Sea's embrace. Yet what came was neither slaughter nor conquest, But leniency beyond all measure. Dis Galea cursed Fate, Yet ten years of war had bent his heart toward peace. In his letters he wrote thus, grave and rational: "Vengeance is scarlet, fair to behold, yet it only ends in withering. Peace is silver, grievous to bear, yet it composes the song of prosperity. Even if we let the Charon's blood sink into the stone, yet the stone shall one day crumble to desert. But once the seeds of peace are sown, for centuries, for millennia, flowers shall bloom." "My Solarian brothers, burdened with hatred, let us together cast scorn upon Fate. To deny anger its dominion over the mind, that is the very proof of our humanity. These Charon, once branded Children of the Demon, Are righteous folk who rose against the Church. Rather than cross swords and raise the dirge, Let Soranus be the first and last sacrifice. And the Charon shall mourn him with us as sisters and brothers. So long as Lamenting Lake endures, So long as the mountains stand, The name of Soranus shall be sung without end, echoing between mountain and lake.Silvercandle Hymn (Ⅴ)DocumentsⅤ. The Snow-Owl's Ballad, Canto Ⅱ The snow-owl faltered, the snow-owl cried, Six times it wheeled through the nighted sky. It longed to feast at the banquet... Yet as it poised to descend, A wall of spears and blades arose. Perhaps the wine had been too sweet, For the hapless Solarian forgot, The truth bound in the name "Charon": the Children of the Demon. Children of the Demon, bereft of all virtue, delighting in the defilement of oaths. Children of the Demon, sly and venomous, weaving their webs of lies. The salted fish was but prelude to slaughter; The goblet brimming but crimson-veiled malice. The Charon chieftain, raising his cup, loosed a baleful laugh, The kindly feast laid bare as nothing but a snare. The northern snow fell like Death's scythe; Could it ever suffer two peoples in peace? Golden hair dishevelled, silver goblets overturned, iron armour rent. Swords clamoured loud, driving ever closer upon the Solarian guests. Arrows sped in volleys, hounding the Solarian like a hunted pack of wolves.Silvercandle Hymn (Ⅵ)DocumentsⅥ. The Snow-Owl's Ballad, Canto Ⅲ The snow-owl wept, the snow-owl cried, Nine times it wheeled through the nighted sky. It longed to flee the tumult, Yet cunning are the demons, Who beguile not only the bewildered bird. Even Dis Galea, who once struck down a false god, Deemed himself scorned by Fate, Doomed to an end unimagined. Only one carved a path through the tightening snare of the Charon: Soranus Galea, blazing with wrath at deceit. In fury he cast a burning candelabrum as a spear, piercing the armour of his foes. In defiance he swung a brimming silver goblet as a hammer, shattering the helms of the wicked. Before him, the Charon fell in heaps; Behind him, stretched a road of blood and flesh. It was he who had once knocked upon that door, And so he swore he would depart in whole. Dis Galea followed close behind, As though clawing free from a demon's ravenous maw. He rejoiced that his banner yet stood, unswallowed by the snow. But Soranus had spent his final strength. The demons overtook him, their blades came down, And from that noble brow there burst a white flame. The glacier crumbled, blood welled forth, hardening into stones of crimson agate. So fell Soranus Galea, sole brother of Dis Ⅰ. On the day the Great Migration began, he had sworn to march hand in hand with Death. Yet none foresaw that Fate would on this day bare its fangs in laughter. And the snow-owl, too, seeking its feast, Was struck by an accursed arrow, Its breath lost amid the bloodied waters. Alas! Soranus, hero who called for peace... He never lived to behold the birth of the Hyperborean Empire, Yet he became its first and truest hero.Silvercandle Hymn (Ⅶ)DocumentsⅦ. The Proclamation of Vengeance Dis Galea returned into the snowbound wilderness. Words forsook him; darkness veiled his sight without end. In silence he recalled his brother's face. Had he yet trod the sacred halls of Elysium, He would have cried aloud the names of the Great Nine, Entreating the power that guides the fallen home. But blind faith was long renounced, the idols cast down, And death itself bore witness: the gods were gone. So the host kept silence, and with Dis Galea they mourned wordlessly. The soldiers, wrath bound in silence, awaited his command. The frozen earth trembled beneath his wrath. Three days and three nights his silence endured. The host waited, and waited still, for their lord to call forth vengeance, to cast the demons into dust. At last he spoke, slow and measured: "Leave these snows. Let us bide our time. The Charon are indeed our foes; yet more loathsome still is our own frailty. The demons bear no Solarian virtue. They wield their strength in wanton excess. Then must we forge a strength redoubled, to cast them down and bind them fast in chains. Better to gather strength, to lie low in wait for a just vengeance, Than to squander rage to our common ruin."Silvercandle Hymn (Ⅷ)DocumentsⅧ. The Iron Hooves in Their Charge The host stirred and swelled like waters brought to the boil. Far-sighted was Dis Galea, Prudent was Dis Galea! And so they mourned with Dis Galea for Solanus, For Solanus, revered and feared, had fallen. Dirges rose and tears fell, As though a thousand stars descended all at once. The night lay veiled in mist; no guiding star remained. This day we endure the bitterness of deceit; Yet when the tide of the Great Migration next sweeps the snowbound plain: Though death descends as equal fate on every soul, Sola and Charon alike, The demons' blood shall drench the earth. Their bones shall be wrought into goblets; Their houses shall become graveyards; Their horns shall be broken and cast into Lamenting Lake, until its waters brim with ruin. And this land, bright with Phoxene, shall rise as offering unto Soranus. Thus, feeding on hatred, Dis Galea and his host endured the winter. They unsheathed their swords and seized the hamlets; They tightened their reins and trampled the houses. Yet endless massacre slowly dulled their wrath, And the Solarian, guided by reason, turned from the path of carnage and blood, And sought instead a road of concord.Silvercandle Hymn (Ⅹ)DocumentsⅩ. Silver Candles Aflame, the Carnival Begins Thus did Galea's soldiers, the Solarian host who had reached the uttermost North, Lay down their swords, set aside their hatred, And lifted silver candles on high with hearts of mercy. Following close upon Galea, they came unto the dwellings of the Charon. White mountains stretched, the keen winds howled, And the Charon, who thought the flame of war was at hand, beheld instead from afar the silver candlelight. They marvelled: the Solarian host comes not for vengeance, but for peace! Dis I had lost a brother; Yet were not the Charon themselves a vaster host of brethren? Then the Charon brought forth their finest wine, With meats newly cured and berries preserved. They pledged kinship with Dis I, And hailed the gracious, gentle Galea as their lord. They raised a city meant to endure, Walls, a great plaza, lofty halls, and a theatre of song. There, Solarian and Charon alike Would share their finest days without divide. All who heard Dis I proclaim that vision were enthralled; And each vowed to be the cornerstone of the Empire's enduring dream. From that day, with each returning year, In Icelake, where Soranus fell and the tragedy found its end, The people gather. They kindle candles in silver candlesticks, And strike the festival's first note in the Far North. The flames soar, recalling ages past; The bells resound long, and grief is cast away. So hear, hear the songs that shall never fade; Sing, sing the hymn to the everlasting Empire.Silvercandle Hymns (Ⅰ)DocumentsⅠ. Overture Hast thou ever heard of such a revelry, Where profane soldiers and demon's progeny joined hand in hand? Where the southerling and the nordling raised a song as one, To hymn the silver peace 'twixt Sola and Charon! Tears of wax did drip from Sola's candlelight, Upon Charon's face, naught but carefree delight. They twisted their waists, they swung limb and limb, With steps of dance, their joy did brim. Through joy they reached madness, a fevered state, Through madness, forgot sorrow and fate. Through sorrow, bestowed upon the past its weight, And at the end of past, a name to celebrate! Soranus Galea! He who took an ancient name, yet defied the false god's claim, He who inherited an armored surname, to aid the Emperor's frame. The younger brother of His Majesty Dis Galea, departed from our world too soon, Soranus Galea!Silvercandle Hymns (Ⅱ)DocumentsⅡ. In Praise of Soranus Galea Northward! To lands afar from the false god's gaze, Northward! To fields unbound by mortal chains, Northward! To realms abundant with liberty! In the third early winter since the Exodus, House Galea pressed on, never to repose. They swore to flee the Elysian Church's hold, With silver blades against the world's end cold. At the forefront of that argent tide, His form you'd see, striding with pride. His helm shone bright, a guiding star afar, His steps held firm, like flowers unmarred. His eyes gleamed keen, rare diamonds untold, His form sped light, as dust on winds old. Soranus Galea! Treasure of Dis the First, the household's young wolf, Whenever he drew his sword, comedy unfolded, Victory assured, the battle's ending foretold.Simulated Battle LogsDocumentsMarch 17 Participants: 7th Squad vs. 3rd Squad Score: 3:1 Observations: The 7th Squad has shown significant improvements in combat capabilities, demonstrating solid team cohesion and defensive stability. However, their offensive efficiency requires enhancement, focusing on combined arms proficiency is recommended. The 3rd Squad displayed courage and decisiveness but lacked finesse. Prioritising defensive capabilities and intensifying physical training is advisable. March 24 Participants: 2nd Squad vs. 4th Squad Score: 2:2 Observations: The 2nd Squad executed a clear strategy, capitalising on their captain's exceptional skills through adaptive formations. However, their over-reliance on one individual poses risks. Developing broader tactical plans that don't hinge on the captain's presence is advisable. The 4th Squad maintained a controlled combat rhythm and executed their strategies with precision, yet their overall approach was overly cautious. Exploring more aggressive tactics could enhance their performance in dynamic combat scenarios. March 31 Participants: 6th Squad vs. 3rd Squad Score: - Observations: The session was cancelled due to unforeseen circumstances. ... August 12 Participants: Green Onion Head vs. Pink Kitty Head ;) Score: 4:5 Observations: Next time, I'm gonna crush you. P.S. Gotta admit, this Empire doohickey is pretty fun. August 14 Participants: Green Onion Head vs. Pink Kitty Head ;) Score: 7:6 Observations: Off my game today. This one doesn't count! ;D August 17 Participants: Green Onion Head vs. Pink Kitty Head ;) Score: 5:3 Observations: I've been busting a gut fixing these gadgets all day, can't you cut me some slack!? Thought we were supposed to be family. :(Some Forsakens Member's JournalDocumentsOctober 20 The captain praised me today! I feel great! Starting tomorrow, I'm all in with my patrol duties, no more nodding off or cutting corners. October 21 Snap out of it! You're a brave warrior of The Forsakens, sneaking off to fish by the bridge during your shift? What were you thinking!? Tomorrow, I'm definitely sticking to my duties and staying alert. October 22 This morning's patrol covered the northwest sector outside the fortress. No Imperial spies in sight, but I dealt with three Filthoids (two small, one medium), and spotted five pieces of trash and two prime fishing spots. In the afternoon meeting, I caught the mechanic lady sneaking a look at a photo of some white-haired girl under the table. Is that her crush? If even someone as important as "The Raven" could afford to space out like that, I guess it's okay for a little foot soldier like me to slack off once in a while, right? No way I'm giving up on my angler career, The Forsakens never quit! Tomorrow, I'm hitting a new spot with fresh spirits! October 23 Today's haul: a belt, half of a military boot, two pieces of Filthoid Carapace, and a bag of Imperial documents. For crying out loud, where are all the fish!?Statue InscriptionDocumentsFusa, the Goddess of Fate... of the Stellar Path, and the architect of the Threads of Destiny. As the dome and ... bear witness, we offer you our devout hymns. The radiance we see among the sprays of water was ... bestowed by you... Your believers gather at the hidden reefs, travelling to the edges of this remote island. People of ... bear witness to the revelation, swearing to manifest their faith with the divine instruments. And so, the frozen melodies begi... to play. The first melody arises from the ... caves, where the daylight spills out in rich waves. The ... stone forms an elegant visage, and destiny softly breathes within the encircling columns. The second ... is in a cavern with cascading waterfalls, where the years have smoothed the cliffs ... and the waters descending from the Nine Heavens have transformed into stained glass. It is a place of scattered hymns, ... this sanctuary. The third melody sings of an ascending corridor, extending to ... constellations, and the sun and moon. Catching glimpses of stars beyond the constellations, weaving a curtain that envelops all of Atlasia. Fusa, the stargazing Goddess, Here we pay homage to you. May you protect your faithful believers, and grant us impeccable ... luck and happiness!Steamwhistle Salon Code of ConductDocuments1. When addressing His Honour, Stationmaster Eisenbahn, members must use the proper honorific in full. (All hail Stationmaster Eisenbahn!) (That right there is a textbook mistake. The full form is "His Honour, Stationmaster Eisenbahn"! Not a single word may be omitted!) 2. All attention must remain on His Honour, Stationmaster Eisenbahn. Members are not to bring up other public figures, including opera stars, stage actors, and the like. (*a name scratched out* has been an embarrassment lately. How can someone act that badly and still call themselves a professional? Unlike His Honour, Stationmaster Eisenbahn, he never lets us down.) (Didn't we have a rule about not mentioning other public figures? Why is this one still breaking the rules? Don't let me find out who wrote this.) 3. Memorise His Honour, Stationmaster Eisenbahn's birthday, height, body measurements, and weight. (Latest update, His Honour, Stationmaster Eisenbahn, has lost another kilo. Current weight: 73 kg.) (He's lost weight again from working so hard... Breaks my heart. What are the people around him even doing? How did no one notice?) (Working hard? Entertaining foreign businesswomen, more like!) (Found the anti. Get out. This handbook is for Salon members only.) (Lol. People are actually spreading romance rumours about His Honour? Everyone knows there's room in his heart only for work.) 4. Members of the Steamwhistle Salon must support one another and must not hoard memorabilia connected to His Honour, Stationmaster Eisenbahn, including cigarette cases, posters, and similar items. 5. The sale of unauthorised merchandise featuring His Honour, Stationmaster Eisenbahn, is strictly forbidden. Offenders will bear all consequences. ... 54. Members must actively safeguard the reputation of His Honour, Stationmaster Eisenbahn, and firmly oppose all attempts to belittle him, smear his name, slander him, or spread malicious rumours. If necessary, extreme measures may be employed. (So... throwing bricks is allowed?) (You could, but that's terribly ungentlemanly. I have connections at the Security Bureau, write the name here and I'll take care of them.) (I'm new... there are way too many rules. If I can't memorise them all, can I write cheat notes?) (How can you fail to remember this little? What are you, a plant from a rival fan club?)Surgical LogDocuments... Psyche: Please, Mr Henrik, let me do this... Henrik: No means no. The anti-deterioration surgery is still in the theory phase. I can't use an untested treatment on you. Psyche: It's because you're so kind... that the surgery remains untested. Henrik: Hypnos' House exists to erase pain. If I experiment on you, how am I any different from the Legion? Psyche: That's not true... Psyche: You care for us, grant our wishes, and ease our pain. It's just that the pain hasn't disappeared, you've taken it all on yourself. Psyche: The anti-deterioration surgery could be the only way to help all of us. Even if it's dangerous, even if there are side effects, even if there's just the slightest chance of success, I'm willing to help you complete the research. Henrik: ...Stop it. I just can't... (*Rustle*...) Henrik: What are you doing? Lie down...! Psyche: Shh... Do you hear that? My heartbeat... Psyche: I'll turn into a Filthoid soon. Maybe tonight, or tomorrow... And this heartbeat will stop. But... even if it's just one more day, I still want to open the door and touch everyone's faces; I want to close my eyes and listen to this thumping; I want to feel sorrow at the memory of your weary figure... I want to smile recalling my parents' love and care... I want to feel strength remembering Vita's encouragement... and... Henrik: Please... Don't cry. Don't... Psyche: Aren't you crying too, Mr Henrik? Henrik: I... (*Rustle*...) Psyche: I'm ready, Mr Henrik... Henrik: ...Okay.Testimony of "Temperance"DocumentsI... I don't remember who I am anymore... I think I wrote my name down in a notebook a long time ago. My name, and how many days I had been in Paradise. But after drinking the water a few times, I even forgot where I hid it... Where are you taking me after this? If I leave Paradise... what am I supposed to be then? No, no, I don't blame you. I just don't know... I don't know... I don't know anything anymore... (Recording terminated. The victim was highly emotionally unstable and deemed unfit for further questioning.)Testimony of "The Tower"DocumentsEveryone else was running, so... so I ran too. ...Sir, everyone says weapons are dangerous. Then why do you have them? Victor asked me about them too... the Forsakens... What does that even mean...? Why did you hit me...? Um... do you like this cool design...? I can draw it on your uniforms too. It'll look really nice, so... could you please stop hitting me...? Mother Bunny is scary... and all of you are scary too... (No useful information obtained. Initial assessment: the drugs have erased the subject's memories related to the Forsakens. Transferred to the Royal Military Prison for further interrogation.)Testimony of Eric WoodvilleDocumentsI am Eric Woodville, a folklorist from Aethyrie. Three years ago, I came to Mount Arcano with my assistant to investigate whether any of Arcano's villagers had survived. Later, we both fell under Mother Bunny's control and were forced to stay on Mount Arcano. At first, under the influence of drugs, I believed for a while that I was a villager named Isaac. It was my assistant, Catherine, who brought me back to myself. She had been assigned the role of "The Magician", Morgana. She is my finest and most brilliant student. She was also the one who persuaded me to play along with Mother Bunny's demands. Against power like hers, all we could do was endure in silence and wait for a real chance to escape. So we devoted ourselves to our roles and tried to blend into life in "Paradise". In doing so, we stood by and watched others die. Please forgive Catherine and me for our selfishness. We acted as we did because we feared for our lives... I doubt we will have another chance to see that young officer. Sir, if possible, please pass on my thanks to him. (This testimony is broadly consistent with the account given by "The Magician". Further identity verification should be sought through Aethyrie's diplomatic channels.)Testimony of Jenny BlountDocumentsMy name is Jenny Blount. I'm just an ordinary citizen from Scarletriver. If there was anything unusual about me, it was that I was reckless when I was young, and cared far too much about my pride. Two years ago, I was having tea at a café when I overheard some people spinning tales about Mount Arcano. I mocked them for it and said only children would be scared by stories like that. Then they bet me the stories were true. Of course, I didn't believe a word of it, so I took the bet and came to Mount Arcano myself. And then... well, you can see how that turned out. The moment I arrived, Mother Bunny forced me into one of her roles and wouldn't let me leave. I've been stuck here for two years. *sigh*... Two years of my life, gone... all because I couldn't swallow my pride over a stupid bet. *sigh*... (The victim provided several local legends concerning Mount Arcano. Little useful information was obtained.)Testimony of TomDocumentsHahaha... I finally got out! Holy ****, I actually got out! Hahahaha! Sorry, sorry, officers, I'm just a little excited... Heh... ahahaha! (A stream of incoherent profanity follows.) Ahem... Mm. All right. Ask away, officers. Anything I know, I'll tell you. All of it. Hahaha! Damn, it feels good to talk like a person again. ****, hell yeah! (A stream of incoherent profanity follows.) Oh, right. My name's Tom. Don't know my last name. I didn't lose my memory or anything. I've just been scraping by on the streets for as long as I can remember, and I never knew who my parents were. People usually called me street rat, little bastard, filthy little beggar... that sort of thing. Pick whichever one you like, officers. Heh. (The victim remained highly agitated throughout the interrogation. Little useful information was obtained.)The Collected Tales of Uncle Feng (Excerpt)DocumentsNow, in the days when the Nine Chapters of Dafenghad only just come into being, there stood a remote mountain village at Mistwharf. In it lived a herdboy. Orphaned at a young age, he spent his days tending a small flock of lambs. When he turned thirteen, his youngest lamb went missing. As forlorn as the little creature itself, the boy treasured it above all the rest, so he set out at once, following its tiny hoofprints. But misfortune struck: the boy slipped and tumbled into a ravine. Half-conscious, he felt sweet dew touch his lips and warm dawnlight press against his eyelids. When he came to, he found a cluster of spirits beside him, shaped like dewdrops, gleaming with a glassy sheen, surely the beings known as the Wishen. Seeing him stir, the Wishen squeaked in fright and scattered into the bushes, their heads and tails all in a fluster, a most comical sight. Only after some time did they creep back, each carrying a little cup rolled from leaves. They had gathered dew to save him. "Was it you who saved me?" Their little leader nodded shyly and held out the cup of dew. The boy said, "Thank you for helping me. May I come along with you?" The spirits gladly agreed. They picked wild fruit and gathered honey, using flowers as cups and leaves as plates, and they played with the boy all through the day in the forest. From that day on, no one knew where the solitary boy had gone. Only from the white chrysanthemums on the mountainside would soft laughter drift out from time to time, so people say the boy and the Wishen are still living happily in a hidden fairy haven.The Compendium of Verbal StratagemsDocumentsIn Huaxu, one ought not rely on brute force, yet, as we all know, words can cut just as sharply. Thus did I spend years roaming the land, observing every quarrel, retort, and petty squabble I could find, and distilled the entire art of human rhetoric into four supreme manoeuvres: LMAO, copypasta, bootlicking, and seething. Master these, and you shall never again lose ground in an argument. Allow me to present a few examples. First, the proper deployment of LMAO... (The rest of the pages have been brutally crossed out. You close the book, and on the back cover you find a single bold word scrawled across it: copypasta.)The Forsakens' PamphletDocumentsTo all the proud Charons, do you still remember, From the trunk of Laerad, our saga sprouted; from the embrace of the Misty Sea, our souls rise and rest. We are the cherished children of Father Ask and Mother Embla, endowed with powerful physiques, majestic horns, and indomitable spines. Yet, the Hyperborean Empire has unjustly maligned us, trampling our dignity, tarnishing our reputation, and stripping away our rights, driving us into shadows of fear and oppression to make us forget who we truly are. To all the brave and resilient Charons, despite the oppression and humiliation inflicted upon us, The call to arms has sounded, and the hour of awakening has come. We seek no false mercy from the tyrants; we scorn the crumbs from our oppressors. Born free, we are entitled to all the happiness the world has to offer. To each valiant warrior of The Forsakens, May you be blessed with the courage and wrath of Ask, to rise ever mightier against the mightiest foes; May you be graced with the compassion and gentleness of Embla, to nurture solidarity and fight with one heart and one mind. Let your pulses quicken and hearts swell with the tides of triumph, And may we one day meet in a land where our brightest dreams shine realized!The Incense Trial: The Civil Service Exam in Smoke and ScentDocumentsWithin Huaxu's system of governance, few institutions are as distinctive as the Incense Trial, an annual examination established by the Ministry of Rites to seek out promising talent among the young. Built around Huaxu's own incense culture, it proceeds in stages, each stricter than the last. Learning is tested openly; character and suitability are weighed more quietly. In time, it has become a signature feature of Huaxu's governance. Shrine Trial, Timed by Smoke, Judged by Learning The selection begins with the Shrine Trial, a small regional examination held throughout Huaxu. Each sitting is held at the district's Argent Loong Temple: a first-round screening, and a gesture of reverence to Lord Argent. The trial is conducted inside the temple itself, overseen by the temple's incense wardens, who are charged with keeping order and impartiality from start to finish. There is no interview at this stage; the focus is purely on a candidate's learning. On the appointed day, candidates enter with their admission slips and take their seats. Writing materials are issued, but no one may touch brush to paper until permitted. Only when the supervising warden lights the designated Lunarose incense, and the candidates have completed their rite of thanks to Lord Argent, does the examination begin in earnest. The time allowed is exactly the burn of a single stick of Lunarose incense. The top three from each sitting advance, and must in due course travel to Huaxu's capital, Haojing, for a harsher round of selection. Departmental Trial, Matched to Post, Weighed in Talent and Virtue Candidates who reach Haojing then face the Departmental Trial, where suitability is the core concern. Unlike the Shrine Trial, which leans on written testing, this stage is not centred on the brush alone. Greater weight is placed on practical ability and how well a candidate fits the duties of the post. Interviews allow examiners to judge a candidate's speech, thinking, and character at closer range. Before sitting the trial, candidates must state their intended post, making an initial choice among the Three Ministries and their subordinate departments. The assessment shifts accordingly, depending on the functions of the chosen institution. The close of the Departmental Trial marks the end of that year's Incense Trial. Once the list of successful candidates is confirmed, the Ministry of Rites summons all qualified entrants to the Hall of Adjudication to take up their appointments. Those whose talent and conduct are deemed exceptional may even win the favour of Lord Argent. In such cases, a Bi'an delivers a summons, granting leave to advance to a third stage: a final selection for the office of High Chancellor of Loongyuan. During this interval, the Hall of Adjudication enters a brief recess to prepare postings and the High Chancellor selection to follow. Meanwhile, the Hall of Incense hastens its own preparations, assembling special aromatics reserved solely for the High Chancellor's selection. As for how the High Chancellor of Loongyuan is ultimately chosen, Huaxu has no shortage of opinions. I have only learned that an internal procedure does exist, and that it is said to be fairly comprehensive. For reasons of space, however, we'll leave Loongyuan for the next issue.The Invincible Legion's Chief ⅡDocumentsChapter 235, My Heart Belongs to Hyperborea Alone The celebration banquet had ended. Most had drifted into well-earned sleep, save for the soldiers still out on patrol. Quietly, the adjutant moved between tents, careful not to disturb her comrades' rare moment of rest. At last, she lifted the flap of one familiar tent. Inside sat a composed figure that everyone relied on, methodically loading bullets into a magazine, one round at a time. "Chief, we've already pulled back from the front. You don't have to stay on edge like this." "When's the next battle?" Leo spoke without even looking up, as if he hadn't heard her well-meaning concern. "You crushed the Elysian forces in the last engagement. They're unlikely to move again anytime soon." Leo said nothing. A tense silence hung between them. Sweat trickled down the adjutant's brow as she hesitated. Then, biting her lip, she reached into her coat and pulled out a bundle of ornate letters. "Chief... can't you take a moment to enjoy life like everyone else, just for once? Look, here's an invitation to the Duchess's ball, one from the Princess's hunting party, and another..." "'I am either engaged in pressing military affairs or occupied with guarding against infiltration from Elysium.' Use the same reply for all." "But... that's the same excuse you've used eighteen times now..." Clack, Leo set the gun aside and stepped toward the banner of the Three Wolves hanging at the rear of the tent. His hand reached out, brushing the scorched edges, still bearing the bitter stain of battle. "I understand your concern. And I appreciate their courtesy. But while we rest, Elysian raiders still strike at our borders, driving countless Solarians from their homes. They march beneath the banner of false gods, crying out for a purge of heresy, nothing but a pretext for butchering our comrades and kin. But we know the truth: we are not heretics, only those who have broken free from the chains of false gods. Those who still yearn, for freedom, and for the right to reclaim it." His fist clenched. The banner bunched in his grip. "Their so-called gods still squat atop our homeland. Until their divine tower falls, my heart will know no peace. If ever I am to enjoy life... let it be when I am shrouded in this flag after death, so that I may kiss it even..." "Please don't say things like that!" She cut him off. Leo looked up in surprise, but this time, she didn't avert her eyes. She met his gaze, steady and unwavering. "Chief, I..." Even the invincible Leo must one day face the battlefield of... social engagements!? What is it that his loyal adjutant truly wishes to say? The saga continues in the next issue of The Invincible Legion's Chief!The Invincible Legion's Chief: Volume ⅠDocumentsChapter 226, "Fierce Battle! The Scorching Whirlwind Shatters the Divine Light Herald" Staff in hand, the Divine Herald of Elysium called down pillars of radiance upon the Legion's living tide. Valiant warriors and the very earth beneath them were torn asunder, cast against the crimson-stained ground. Shockwaves rippled from the points of impact, churning the smoke-laden air into frantic, dissolving vortices. "Death to the gods!" came the roar from the tide. Gaps opened by the light were swallowed in a heartbeat by the relentless advance. Beam after beam fell, and each time the tide of soldiers closed ranks, a grim testament to oaths sworn in blood, their will unbroken by the Herald's profane glare. But every tide, no matter how fierce, finds its levee. The Legion's charge began to falter. Casualties mounted, first by the dozen, then by scores, cold statistics etching themselves across the field. Then, as another pillar of light descended, a figure stepped forth from the ranks. "For the glory of our Emperor!" His cry was cut short as radiance consumed him. A silence fell. Another soul offered to the crucible. The soldiers braced, ready to pour into the breach left in his wake. Yet no body struck the earth. Instead, the warrior lay cradled in the arms of a youth, his hand outstretched toward a vision of faith and hope, Legion Commander Leo. His presence electrified the battlefield. All knew the scales of fate now rested with him. "Commander! To your rear!" Pillars of light converged upon Leo. He did not turn. He simply lowered the soldier to the ground, then lifted a single finger. The devastating beams dissolved into harmless sparks at his touch, merging with the smoke. A slight shift of his posture, and cannon fire from allied ships screamed overhead, striking the hovering Herald from the sky. Leo advanced, a calm, deliberate force. The unbreakable dam had found its fault line, and his voice carried across the tumult: "My apologies for the delay." "This ends now, you petulant deities in your gilded spires!" Could the divine defences withstand the unyielding will of the Legion? Would Leo succeed in bringing the high and mighty gods down to dust? The saga continues in the next issue of The Invincible Legion's Chief.The Invincible Stationmaster: Volume ⅠDocumentsChapter 189: The Rails Will Stretch Ever Farther "Stationmaster Leo, is there truly no way to increase this station's capacity fivefold?" Leo set down the Minister of Transport's letter and let out a quiet sigh. It was not the minister's seemingly unreasonable demand that weighed on him. Leo knew all too well that, with the front lines mired in bitter fighting, a fivefold increase was not merely reasonable. It was necessary. The railways were the veins of Hyperborea. Through them flowed supplies, weapons, equipment, and legionaries bound for every corner of the Empire, carrying hot lifeblood through its body without pause. As stationmaster, Leo knew better than anyone that the Empire's current rail capacity was nowhere near enough to meet the needs of the front. Without a dramatic increase in efficiency, the soldiers fighting there might soon find themselves short of guns and ammunition, forced to charge the enemy with nothing but their fists. Hyperborean soldiers would remain brave and unyielding even then. But Leo, entrusted with the Empire's transport lifeline, knew it was his duty to do everything in his power to spare his countrymen at the front needless sacrifice. He picked up his communicator, his mind already racing through ways to improve the station's efficiency. "Expand the station... centralise dispatch... refit passenger trains for military freight..." He opened a channel and began assigning tasks to his subordinates according to their strengths. "Kate, you have the contacts. Gather every available hand you can find. I'll bring in engineers from the Aeolipile, and together we'll lay the new tracks." "Understood." "Wolfe, you know machinery. Put together an emergency repair crew. If a train breaks down, I want it dragged off the track and repaired immediately." "Understood." ... Once all the tasks had been assigned, Leo rolled a cigarette and gazed south, towards the Elysian Church. "One day, I will see the Empire's railways laid all the way to the Tower of Elysium. I will see the Empire's veins reach every last inch of the false god's lands." Leo tucked the cigarette away, turned, and strode back towards the station. A fierce wind swept past, snapping his greatcoat behind him, but his stride never faltered. "I'll save this cigarette for that day." Can Leo carry out his superiors' order? Can his station bear the burden of sustaining the front? The saga continues in the next instalment of The Invincible Stationmaster.The Last Writings of an UnknownDocumentsIt is said that north of Mistwharf, hidden within the mists of the inner sea, stands the Crouching-Loong Pillar, where a fiend named Zhuyin is said to lurk. The baleful miasma that seeps across the lands of Huaxu is believed to rise from this very place. People shrink from its evil and dare not draw near. Yet if we quail and turn aside, how shall Huaxu ever regain its clear winds and broad, bright heavens? Thus I took leave of my family and, with fifteen able youths, set out for the Pillar to uncover the truth, hoping to be the first to lift the blight of Zhuyin. Breaking through the thunderous mist, we reached the cliff and at last beheld it in full. Shaped like a pine, rising straight into the clouds, it is the Crouching-Loong Pillar, and the name is no falsehood. Circling it several times, we found a stone ledge where we could bring the boat ashore. Jagged rocks lay everywhere, all dark as ink. For miles we saw no green. Cloud swirled; thunder did not cease. Truly, as the tales say, this was a place steeped in ill omen. The limbs of my companions trembled, some near to fleeing. Thus we sent back the three who were each their family's only son. The remaining thirteen pressed on. After half a day's climb, a baleful beast rose from the mire, a creature in the shape of a Bi'an, its body wholly black, and descended upon us. Though sturdy and strong, my men could not match it. And though we lived under the Nine Chapters of Dafeng, even Lord Argent's protection could not reach us here; thus we took refuge within a cavern. Lin's firstborn, Jianchen, stepped before us and met his end, alas for him! The higher we climbed, the keener the cold grew; no robe nor fur could fend it. Ten miles farther on, we reached a stone terrace ringed with steps raised over the very void. Looking up, we glimpsed a palace hanging upside down above the clouds, bound fast by more than ten chains of cold iron, an awe-striking sight. I fear it was a dwelling of the celestials, seized and fettered by the fiend. Three days we remained there, fearful from dawn to dusk. Water and food were nearly spent, and the fiendish beasts hunted without rest. One youth, half-delirious, murmured that he had glimpsed a black loong surging through the gloom, its head and tail unseen, much like Taihao. The others sharply silenced him, saying that Taihao has guarded Huaxu for ages and must not be likened to some baleful shadow. Yet after much thought, I do not share their certainty. Surveying the place, its layout seemed more a cage, and more still an altar. In youth I read widely, and learned that Huaxu holds the dual in highest regard: Heaven and Earth, yin and yang, clear and turbid. Thus, if there are two divinities, it would not be beyond reason. We have been trapped here for more than half a month. The way back is lost; no path can be found. Only two of the youths remain. Thus I set down this record: should anyone find it, carry it to Haojing, and make known the truth to all our folk. (The pages that follow appear to list the names of the party, but the writing is too worn to read.)The Never-Ending Tea PartyDocumentsThe tea party has begun. There are dazzling fireworks, beautiful finery, endless sweets, dear little animals, and merry laughter. The tea party has begun. There are raging storms, dazzling fireworks, beautiful finery, endless sweets, dear little animals, and merry laughter. The tea party has begun. There is a burning stage, dazzling fireworks, beautiful finery, endless sweets, dear little animals, and merry laughter. The tea party has begun. There is creeping moss, dazzling fireworks, beautiful finery, endless sweets, dear little animals, and merry laughter. The tea party has begun. There are dazzling fireworks, beautiful finery, endless sweets, dear little animals, and merry laughter. Come now. The rabbits will pour us mead, and the flowers will dust us with sugar. Come now. Take your seats beneath the summer-night fireworks, and raise a blessing to this beautiful hour, one that shall never fade.The Sacred LedgerDocumentsIn a neat hand: Looking to buy His Honour, Stationmaster Eisenbahn's 2nd Anniversary Poster. 50 silver. In a hasty hand: That little for a 2nd Anniversary? You couldn't even get this year's poster for that. In a cramped, cursive hand: 80 silver. Deal or no deal? In a neat hand: Sorry... that's more than I'm willing to pay. In a broken, uneven hand: Anyone want His Honour, Stationmaster Eisenbahn's Birthday Commemorative Cigarettes? No cigarette pack, just the cigarettes. In a neat hand: What's the point of buying just the cigarettes? In a broken, uneven hand: You can smoke the same kind as His Honour, Stationmaster Eisenbahn. In a bold, forceful hand: His Honour, Stationmaster Eisenbahn's 5th Anniversary Commemorative Stamp, rubbing edition. 50 silver. Trade in person tomorrow at 15:00. In a childish hand: "Rubbing edition"? Yeah, right. Isn't that just a knock-off you made yourself? In a neat hand: Do not defile the Sacred Ledger. Keep this nonsense out of it! ... In an elegant hand: His Honour, Stationmaster Eisenbahn will appear on the platform tomorrow afternoon. Further details available by private trade. In a light, rounded hand: His Honour, Stationmaster Eisenbahn's 10th Anniversary Photography Event. Looking for a partner. I'll bring the camera; you take the photo. I'm a terrible photographer. In a sharp, angular hand: His Honour, Stationmaster Eisenbahn's newcomer welcome event souvenir available. Leave contact details if interested. In a childish hand: Where did you even get those? The chairman said no reselling. Consider this a warning.The Sayings of Master ZhuxiDocumentsIn considering what the sages of old intended when they taught learning, I take it to be this: to press inquiry to its limits, and to read widely in the old and the new, so as to broaden the mind and enlarge one's view. Only then may a person judge right from wrong, weigh matters with clarity, and grasp the workings of the world, not merely memorise texts and polish fine phrases for the sake of fame, profit, and preferment. Those who study in our day have borne hardships for too long. Much of what the former worthies taught is recorded in the classics, yet remains detached from worldly affairs. Anyone with resolve ought to read deeply, reflect, and question, to examine and sift what one has learned. For if one recognises the vastness of Heaven and Earth and the complexity of affairs, and strives to look upon all things with objectivity and a mind trained to weigh matters with discernment, then the standards by which one stands in the world and conducts oneself are already within one's grasp. Why wait for others to hand them over before one can hold fast to them? As for what I have written, it cannot guide every student, and the methods it proposes may not fully accord with the true aim of opening the mind and awakening thought. Therefore I shall no longer require it in this hall. Instead, I have selected the main principles by which the sages taught learning, set them forth as articles, and posted them here for all to see. Let all of you study them together, make their meaning clear, keep them, and hold yourselves to them. Then, in the midst of your thoughts and actions, your judgement will grow more exacting: you will deliberate with care, discern with clarity, and investigate things so as to extend your knowledge. These are, in truth, the roots of conduct in the world, and the foundations of cultivating virtue and turning towards the good. Only by keeping to this guiding framework may one contemplate all things, and so bring forth new understanding and open new paths.Training Yard Booking LogDocuments4 June Filed by: Wang Quan Reason: I say sweet tofu pudding is best. Zhang Fu swears by the savoury kind. Only one way to settle it, a match! 28 June Filed by: Xu Hong Reason: I want to test a new explosive prototype. The yard is open enough for it. 15 July Filed by: Su Yi Reason: Lu Ye and Pei Jing want to practise with crossbows. I've been asked to keep an eye on them. 16 July Filed by: Su Yi Reason: Same as yesterday (the kids are really coming along!). 6 August Filed by: Uncle Tang Reason: Finished a new battlefield loudhailer. Need everyone to take turns singing in the yard for a sound test. 20 August Filed by: Uncle Tang Reason: Zhu Pu overtrained and hurt his leg. Want to test the support brace I made for him and log a few measurements.Transcript of a ConversationDocumentsKatya Oen, 23 years old, originally from a family of engineers in Dismania. Both parents are Laurelled Charons at the Aeolipile. Six years ago, driven by compassion for other Charons and a rebellion against parental expectations, you left home to pursue mechanical engineering independently, aiming to alleviate the plight of the impoverished Charons. While promoting compact heating devices in Ovis, you were captured by Hyperborean soldiers during a labour conscription raid. After ten months of forced labour at Lonza Fortress, you were liberated by The Forsakens during our breach of the fortress. You've been recuperating under our care for over a month now, and your physical and mental health have largely stabilised. Our investigations have confirmed that... Katya: Wow, thanks for raking over my tragic backstory right to my face, your group sure knows how to make a girl feel welcome! Gracia: Thanks. We've verified all the information you provided. It's been confirmed that you're not an Imperial spy but the sole survivor among the labourers at Lonza Fortress. You are free to go now. Katya: That's it? Nothing else you want to discuss with me? Gracia: No, that's all. Katya: Isn't this the part where you all start tearing up and say something like, "The Forsakens would be honoured if a brilliant mechanic like you would join us!" Gracia: We did hope for that, yes. But considering the feedback we've received from those who've interacted with you, noting your reckless behaviour and tendency to act dangerously without heeding advice... Katya: Whoa, back up a little, aren't The Forsakens known for their bold, dangerous approaches? Gracia: ...I can't argue with that. But... Katya: Wanna hear a little secret? You guys ever wondered why you took over the Fortress without a hitch? Did you really think it was all thanks to your clever tactics and combat power? Did it ever cross your mind why, an hour before the train breached the Fortress, all the alarms and communication systems suddenly went dead, leaving them defenceless at the worst possible moment? Gracia: You did that? Katya: Hee hee, those Hyperborean dogs, always tinkering with their gadgets, didn't even notice that the girl who looked like she could barely turn a handle was actually messing with their machines right under their noses... Katya: Then, all it took was the right moment, and... Boom! A pleasant big surprise! I hope they loved it. Gracia: I see. We'll reconsider your potential recruitment into The Forsakens. Katya: Hurry up then. If you keep me waiting too long, I might just walk away, and you'll regret it!Triumph Day Leave NoticeDocumentsIn accordance with headquarters' orders, all non-Charon soldiers are granted a half-day leave on Triumph Day. Specific leave schedules will be communicated by your respective units. Important Note: Soldiers taking leave are required to attend the celebration ceremony at the simulated battlefield during one of the designated time slots below. Failure to participate will be recorded as an absence: Morning leave: 09:00 to 11:00 Afternoon leave: 15:00 to 17:00 Charon soldiers will adhere to their regular duties as per the temporary defence deployment and are exempt from participating in the ceremony.Unsent Letter in ReplyDocumentsYour kindness is appreciated, but my mind is made up. Please proceed with the sale, it's for the children. A tenant has moved in. The sale can wait for now.What'll It Be? Just Say the Word!DocumentsWelcome to The Asphodel. Our tavern serves drinks from every corner of the continent. And don't worry, we always collect the coin before you pass out. The Hyperborean Empire: Most of our Empire's brews find their way into the bellies of alchemists and soldiers, so the names may not sound drinkable... yet the taste is finer than you'd think. Craving something strong? Just say the word! Legion Wolfblood Standard issue across the Legions, a spirit strong enough to burn off fear on the battlefield and double as a battlefield disinfectant. The taste is strong, deliberately so, they say, to stop soldiers from overindulging. Phoxichor Engine Lubricant A favourite among Imperial alchemists. Named for its uncanny resemblance, in both colour and texture, to the actual lubricant used in Phoxichor engines. Rumour has it one absent-minded alchemist once took a swig of the real thing by mistake. Fortress Barrage A fiery spirit from the Empire's southern reaches. Best downed in one go to savour the full effect, like a fortress cannon blasting through your body, leaving your limbs no longer your own. Intense. Devastating. Glorious. Laurelled Delight The go-to toast when a Charon earns their Laurel. Often shaken into a froth for the ceremony, but beneath the bubbles lies a crisp, refreshing flavour, delightful on the tongue. Huaxu: If spirits are too strong for your taste, why not try something from the Eastern realm? Unlike the grape wines we know, theirs are brewed from rice, smooth, mellow, and golden as amber. And with Huaxu's travelling merchants scattered far and wide, these delicacies are never far from hand. In the mood for something different? Just say the word! Tiger's Soul An amber-hued rice wine with a rich, mellow depth, said to carry the essence of a tiger's spirit. In Huaxu, it is a common daily draught, a medicinal tonic, and a warming comfort all in one. Peach Blush A light, sweet wine with the fragrance of fresh fruit. Blended with peach gum, its texture is as soft to chew as it is to sip. Its delicate blush has long made it a favourite among ladies. A Goblet Above A Huaxu proverb says: "One day above is a year below." True to its name, a single goblet of this potent brew sends you into a deep slumber, and when you wake, much time will have fled. Best not overindulge, lest you find yourself in Heaven sooner than you wished. Azure Dragon's Draught In Huaxu, the Charon are honoured as Loongscions, descendants of the Eastern dragon. This is their drink of choice: crisp as a mountain spring, with a finish that lingers like the breath of a Loong. Republic of Luca: You may know Luca for its artists, sailors, dreamers and madcaps... but did you know it also gave birth to a world of cocktails? Try them, and you'll be won over by their rich layers and flights of fancy. They rarely leave one truly drunk... but they do have a way of stirring inspiration. So, what shall it be? Just say the word! Palette A cascade of spirits, layered in dazzling colours, a painting in a glass. Stir it, and all brilliance collapses into black. Masquerade Rhapsody Not one drink, but ten, each wearing the same disguise. You won't know what lies within until you taste it... just as you never truly know the face behind a mask at the ball. Poet's Rhyme Soft upon the tongue, yet echoing long after, like the rhyme that closes a verse. Poets and playwrights drink deep in pursuit of inspiration... sometimes yielding a masterpiece, and sometimes, a grand puddle of vomit. Chisel A rare Luca spirit, named by sailors who once gazed upon statues crated in their holds and thought of the tool that shaped them. True to its name, it etches fire through the body with each swallow. Aethyrie: Do scholars drink? Indeed they do. They drink to dull the sting of failure... and to raise a jubilant toast with a ringing "Eureka!" when discovery strikes. Like knowledge, wine intoxicates all the same. The only pity is that even in naming it, they cannot resist teaching a lesson. If such hidden meanings amuse you, just say the word. Truth in the Cup Aethyrie's scholars once argued fiercely over the world's first principle, some claimed it was air, others fire, others still countless tiny particles. At last, they agreed on one thing: whatever its origin, it must be plentiful in wine, for nothing else so swiftly brings joy, and peace among rivals. Philosopher's Tears One tale tells of a philosopher who, upon realising that the diagonal of a square vessel could not be expressed by rational number, wept until his tears ran dry, and bled instead. Thus, the crimson hue of this wine. Aethyrie's scholars adore the tale. Of course, the truth is simpler and far less poignant: it's just the colour of grapes. O, Bounty! Brewed only in years of true abundance, this wine heralds the coming of plenty. Once the vats are filled, the people of Aethyrie gather in celebration, drinking deep, lifting their voices in song or spirited debate, rejoicing in the bounty of the year. The Syllogism Major premise: wine brings inspiration. Minor premise: inspiration is the wellspring of creation. Conclusion: wine is the wellspring of creation. In Aethyrie, only students sharp enough to name the fallacy earn the right to drink it. Luckily for you, here in Hyperborea, no riddle need be solved before your glass is filled. Khemet: Life in the desert is harsh, its people rugged, yet their welcome is as warm as the sands are fierce. When Starweavers or Phoxhunters pass through their villages, the locals pour out drinks as bold and mysterious as the desert itself. This tavern may not lie among the dunes, but our welcome is no less hearty. Care to taste the desert wind? Just say the word! Black Honey Dark as pitch, yet heavy with sweetness. Its deep shade comes from carbon, said to draw out every impurity. Serpent's Kiss Rumoured to be laced with snake venom, it numbs the tongue with a venomous tingle and chills the body with a creeping cool. In truth, it's nothing but fizzing gases. Experimental Dregs A dangerous concoction brewed from industrial alcohol and leftover dregs of countless alchemical experiments. They say you might find a lizard's claw or rat's tail adrift within. Only the daring drink it, more a test of courage than a toast. The Burning Wind Steeped with spice and peppers, this fiery brew scours the throat like the desert wind itself. One mouthful, and you're carried to Khemet's sands in all their scorching glory. The Elysian Church: To the south lies the Elysian Church, the Empire's sworn foe. Its folk drown in scripture, bowing to false gods in blind faith... hopeless, if you ask me. But their wines, now those are worth a taste. Rare, costly, and hard to come by. If your purse is heavy enough, just say the word! The Tenth God The war with Elysium grinds on, and so their wares are forbidden in the Empire. Even so, one brew still finds its way to our shelves: The Tenth God. It's named in jest, as if one drink could rival the blessings of all nine gods. Perhaps that sly irreverence is why the officials turned a blind eye, a blasphemous name, for a drink too fine to ban. Traditional Charon Brews: The mountains beyond the Empire's northern edge are not empty. There, the Charon who still defy its yoke dwell, honouring their Father Ask and Mother Embla. They brew their own drinks for rites that preserve their faith and legend. Sometimes, these brews are traded for a handful of coins. They're not strong, but in Icelake's biting cold, nothing warms you better. If you'd warm your bones, and hear a tale of the Charon, just say the word! Heaventree Sap A light, clear blue liquor that recalls the gleam of Phoxene. Unlike Phoxichor Engine Lubricant, it runs bright and fluid. Its name honours the Heaventrees, sacred to Charon tradition. Borealberry Brew Brewed from Borealberries, a prized fruit of Icelake and the far north, this wine is fragrant and best enjoyed steaming hot. The Charon may not fear the cold, but none would turn down a sweet, steaming glass of fruit-rich delight in the heart of winter. We don't serve minors. And don't bother with "it's for my parents" that tale's worn thin. Also, no vomiting in the tavern. You'll pay for the cleaning... and we'll throw in a good thrashing, free of charge.Where the Wicked Reign · ⅠDocumentsRotten, down to the marrow. That was the first thought that struck me the day I stepped into the black market, decades ago. Wreckage, refuse, and collapsed masonry lay strewn across the western shore. The air reeked of rot and the acrid burn of cheap incense. From the rubble's shadow, cold, hollow eyes watched the lone outsider in their midst, me. Their gaze pleased me more than I cared to admit. In it, I glimpsed a hunger that mirrored my own. They were the castoffs the Nine Chapters of Dafeng could never tame, refuse long abandoned by the world, shrinking from the sun and clinging to the shade. Some had lost an arm, others a leg, each bearing the wounds Bi'an leaves upon those who defy the Admonitions. Yet their eyes still tracked every newcomer with ravenous patience, lying in wait for the moment the unwary drifted too close, ready to wring out every last scrap of worth to survive another dawn, no matter how dear the cost. Splendid. Truly splendid. No words of praise could ever do justice to such a place, a paradise pulsing with its own savage rhythm. And I was quietly pleased. For all the Nine Chapters' long schooling, each era preserves a gratifying number who never relinquish the one quality that matters most. Greed, or, if you insist on a more civilised term, desire. So long as that primal instinct endures, even ants may strip an elephant to the bone. With a little tending, this soil, so dense with desire, would bear a forbidden fruit Huaxu could not afford to ignore. I doubt there is a sweeter satisfaction.Where the Wicked Reign · ⅡDocumentsSecuring materials, outfitting the shopfronts, bringing merchants to heel, these initial steps in quickening the market required little effort on my part. Such matters, after all, are easily settled with coin. The true work lay in the second step: cultivating recognition. Without that, nothing stands, nothing built on shifting sand ever does. We had to teach people that the black market was no furtive haven for stolen goods and contraband, but, in their minds, the very emblem of possibility. What others sold, we sold. What others dared not, we sold, and openly. Rarities and exotic beasts. Paintings and private hoards. Weapons, armaments, secrets, intelligence, even lives. The Nine Chapters, in the end, are an ageing relic, a code concerned only with what must not be done. Turn it on its head, and all that lies unspoken becomes permissible: a broad freedom upon which the market could flourish. Consider an example. Some hatreds end only in blood. A clean settling of scores invites Bi'an's censure. And yet... a hired hand? A carefully engineered ruin? The slow, social suffocation of a life? The market need not take every commission, nor do I urge anyone to twist the code to their advantage. The point is simple: for a price, we offer a path towards long-cherished desires, and that is what wins the world's recognition of our reach. Some will deem it wrong, even evil. Yet without evil, virtue has no meaning. Such is the creed my people of the market claim as their own. Once those two steps were set in place, vitality followed of its own accord. From that moment, the market began, at last, to move along its rightful course.Where the Wicked Reign · ⅢDocumentsI once read of the so-called "Rule of One Hundred and Fifty": that beyond this number, friction multiplies and cooperation begins to decay. The market crossed that threshold by its third year. From that point on, recognition alone no longer sufficed; an iron rule was required. Unlike my other ventures, the market keeps but a single law: Those who place a wager must accept its result. Trade here, and you gain the leverage to contend with those above you. Stand loyal to me, and the fetters of want fall away. Only one boundary limits privilege: take no pride in victory, and voice no complaint in defeat. I turn a blind eye to profit that strays beyond conventional morality, but whoever pursues it must shoulder the risks as well. As for those unequal to loss, at best: reclamation of assets, expulsion from the market, the withdrawal of shelter. At worst... such matters need not be set down in a memoir; I would not burden Huaxu's children with unwholesome dreams. The essence of our rise has been spoken. What follows may serve merely as after-dinner anecdotes.Where the Wicked Reign · ⅣDocumentsThe black market has never been a cage without exit. Over the decades, there were always those who chose to leave and pursue another path. Such intent has always pleased me; it affirms that my long-standing counsel has taken root: follow your desire. To see them through that first and hardest step, I provided capital, manpower, and the necessary connections. Where desire is pursued, no investment is ever wasted. Some did fail. Yet so long as the desire driving them did not wither, the market's favour remained with them. Some succeeded, found their footing across various trades, and returned a portion of their gains to the market. I ask no return; their offerings often hold little weight for me. But long distances are made of small steps, and even a modest force, rightly placed, may turn the course at a crucial moment. Thus, through these ties, the market's branches spread through every quarter of Huaxu. The sapling I planted has, under many hands, grown into a great tree, beyond any hope of uprooting.Workshop Experiment LogDocumentsI. Meowvellous Machine Logged by: Uncle Tang (love you lot, everyone in Outer Peaks!) Setup: Split the kids into two groups. One got a pep talk from the Meowvellous Machine beforehand; the other didn't. Both groups then read Mechanism Basics That Every Huaxu Kid Can Learn. After one stick of incense, we gave them a quiz. Result: Some of the "encouraged" kids (Zhu Pu, for instance) made the top ten. Others landed near the bottom. The kids who didn't get the pep talk (like Pei Jing) ended up somewhere in the middle. Comments: Su Yi: The groups weren't evenly matched to begin with. The results don't prove anything. Xu Hong: I think some of them were just scared by how the machine looks. Kezhou: The results aren't the point. I just want to ask... what's with that signature in the "Logged by" line? Has Uncle Tang been breathing in workshop fumes again? II. Duck and Dash Logged by: Uncle Tang (still loving you lot today) Setup: After basic safety checks, we went out into the wild. On spotting a lone Sable Bi'an, give a Duck and Dash a full wind and toss it. Result: Didn't scare it off. If anything, it made so much noise that it drew more of them in and made them meaner. Areas to Improve: Try making it even louder. Comments: Su Yi: Why not pack it with a few small charges? Like the firecrackers we set off at New Year, toss it, then leg it while it's popping. Uncle Tang: This is meant for schoolchildren to use for self-defence on the way home. If we add anything like that, I'm worried they'll misuse it and hurt themselves. Shen Han: Are the children all right? No one was hurt, I hope? Uncle Tang, please don't drag them into such dangerous experiments next time!Yellowed DiaryDocumentsApril 14 Many supervisors at Glevum Pit have been reassigned to other pits. No one's on night watch today, lucky me! April 18 The soil here is unusually soft, I managed to dig down three metres in just one night! I've blocked the entrance with some old crates that have been lying around for over half a year. No one's going to notice they're missing. My love, I know you think the legend about the gemstone is just a myth, but this is our only chance. Wait for me, Hilin. April 19 Feeling a bit off lately, dizzy, vision blurry, not much of an appetite. Must be the wound acting up. Gotta suck it up. Time is ticking. I saw a silverback vole just now. What a tough little creature. They can even make a home in a place like this. April 23 Rough day. I finally made it deeper into the mountain, but now there's this massive rock wall in my way. Good thing I packed extra picks. The pain's getting worse, it's like it's in my bones now. I can barely stomach any food. My lantern's gone out, so I'm scribbling this in the dark, she's definitely going to make fun of my handwriting when she sees this. But I've gotta keep a record of all this, so when I make it big, this'll all be part of my story. April 24 I did it! Honey, I'm so pumped right now! I just wanna see you and yell this good news right in your ear! While fumbling around in the dark, I found three skeletons and some stones, these must be the gems! It all adds up with that old tale about the gem trader and the bandits! I'm gonna make it big! Soon, I'll be rolling in it. And once I'm loaded, your dad can't say no to us anymore, and you won't have to marry that guy you don't even know. April Wh at ha pp ened I C ant g et O... Go tta Go ba... G em ... Cysta... Wann... S ee H erA Century Between DreamsMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardA Light Like a BeaconMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardA Long FarewellMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardA Nightingale in Wonderland ⅠMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardA Nightingale in Wonderland ⅡMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardA Vibrant HeartMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardAcross the SandrealmMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardAfter RainMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardAlong the River of ForgettingMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardAmaranthMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardAn Audience with the GodsMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardArrow on StringMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardAshes of DoomMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardAt StakeMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardAvian Spirit Trials ⅠMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardAvian Spirit Trials ⅡMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardBad JokesMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardBefore the WarMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardBeyond Mountains and SeasMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardBeyond the MountainsMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardBinary FateMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardBloomfield StationMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardBloomfield WaltzMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardBurning AbyssMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardCause I Was Born HereMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardCrowsong HollowMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardDaphne: It's Raining in DismaniaMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardDestined EndMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardDuet Night Abyss Main ThemeMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardDust on the Capital RoadMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardEmergency ActionMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardEscapeMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardExplosion ArtMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardFaster and Faster!Music"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardFate Without CauseMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardFight, or Die ⅠMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardFight, or Die ⅡMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardFirst Met With PsycheMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardFlora · In the Golden CageMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardFlorescence UnmetMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardFootsteps of Her LifetimeMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardFor What Dream Does Chrysalis WeaveMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardGalea TheatreMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardGaps in Heaven's NetMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardGlevum PitMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardGraceful StepsMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardGritblight ExpanseMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardHeart in CindersMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardHeart of InnocenceMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardHeaven Brought DownMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardHilda · A Maid's VirtueMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardHypnos' HouseMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardIn DangerMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardInto the SandrealmMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardJiaolan Village: Echoes of the Past · PianoMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardJiaolan Village: Echoes of the Past · XiaoMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardJishu's WondersMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardJoys of LifeMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardKatya: Guns and VinesMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardLeisurely AnglerMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardLirico's Songs · A Cradle of Black IronMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardLotus Born of FlameMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardLullaby for a VoyagerMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardLunoeggy's FriendshipMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardLunotress's SweetdreamMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardLunoxplorer's AdventureMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardMechapuppet AwakeningMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardMemories that We TakeMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardMistwharfMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardMorning MistMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardMy Sweet Little HomeMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardMyriad-Snare Hunting ArrayMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardOn What Breeze Do Wings RiseMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardOur Sacred Destiny ⅠMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardOur Sacred Destiny ⅡMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardOur Sacred OathMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardOver the Frozen LandMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardPsyche: Daydream in a ChrysalisMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardRebirthMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardRedemptionMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardRequiem for the NamelessMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardRipples at DuskMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardSerene JoyMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardSnowstormMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardSplendour of HaojingMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardStars Shining Over the GutterMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardStarwharfMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardTea TimeMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardThe AsphodelMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardThe Awful TruthMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardThe Balance of Black and WhiteMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardThe Black CovenantMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardThe Closed DoorMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardThe CrownMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardThe Crystal DevourerMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardThe Deserted VillageMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardThe FategazerMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardThe Fischers: Our Bygone DaysMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardThe Iron CageMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardThe LurkersMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardThe Reaper's FeastMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardThe Wandering LunosmithMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardThe Wrong WayMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardTidesong CavernMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardTranquility of My YesterdaysMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardTwilight over Yu AbysmMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardUnder Arbitrary AuthorityMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardUnder the Apricot PetalsMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardVergilius · What Is Glory Built Upon?Music"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardWeb of LogicMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardWhen Dreams Gild the NightMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardWhen the Wind Rose in MistwharfMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardWhere Light Cannot ReachMusic"When your fingers brush the keys, the notes awaken, the wind's whispers, time's soft sigh, the hush of new shoots breaking soil. They give voice to ancient histories, to heroes' unspoken vows, to tales never etched on any page. They stand as testament to all that has ever been upon this land." Lirico, the Wandering BardAgreeGesturesAn everyday gesture, show your approval.How to get: ShopArsenal PhantasiaGesturesImagination and practice are what carry us into the future.How to get: ShopBear on the LooseGesturesA bear's got to act like a bear.How to get: ShopBlazing Heartbeat: AzureGesturesConsumable, single use. Celebration, sparkles, and our mirrored gaze, a moment made eternal.How to get: ShopBlazing Heartbeat: GiltGesturesConsumable, single use. Celebration, sparkles, and our mirrored gaze, a moment made eternal.How to get: ShopBlazing Heartbeat: White SakuraGesturesConsumable, single use. Celebration, sparkles, and our mirrored gaze, a moment made eternal.How to get: ShopBubbly DuckGesturesQuack-quack! A splash of joy bright enough to turn sunlight into rainbows.How to get: ShopCat in a BoxGesturesNo one's here. Just a cardboard box.How to get: Lunoeggy's Impression ShopCat in a Box: Leaden GreyGesturesNo one's here. Just a cardboard box.How to get: Lunoeggy's Impression ShopCat in a Box: White SakuraGesturesNo one's here. 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Here I come!How to get: ShopGenerous PatronGesturesSharing is a joy in its own right, one that feels like a luxury.How to get: ShopGoofy GrooveGesturesUse Skill: Special PostureHow to get: ShopGreetGesturesAn everyday gesture, say hello with a friendly wave.How to get: ShopGrill MasterGesturesSomehow, a cheerful, familiar tune always drifts by when grilling meat.How to get: EventsHeavenfall DrapeGesturesConsumable, single use. Fireworks are a salute to the heavens.How to get: ShopHelix SpinGesturesFor you, the DNA keeps spinning.How to get: ShopHellborne Roar: AzureGesturesGuard the inferno. Make death itself tremble.How to get: ShopHellborne Roar: GiltGesturesGuard the inferno. Make death itself tremble.How to get: ShopHellborne Roar: Rust RedGesturesGuard the inferno. Make death itself tremble.How to get: ShopJishu Phantasia: Dark JadeGesturesWith a single thought, all heights fall beneath you.How to get: ShopJishu Phantasia: Opaque WhiteGesturesWith a single thought, all heights fall beneath you.How to get: ShopJishu Phantasia: Rust RedGesturesWith a single thought, all heights fall beneath you.How to get: ShopMiserere Ground: CelesteGesturesPrayer earns no absolution. Only destruction offers redemption.How to get: ShopMiserere Ground: GiltGesturesPrayer earns no absolution. Only destruction offers redemption.How to get: ShopMiserere Ground: Rust RedGesturesPrayer earns no absolution. Only destruction offers redemption.How to get: ShopNever SkunkedGesturesHow'd you know I landed a big catch today?How to get: Fisheries SocietyParty FeverGesturesParty time!How to get: ShopPitter-Patter WaltzGesturesDance with light, lively steps.How to get: ShopPlatform WaitingGesturesThe whistle blows, time to depart.How to get: ShopPleadingGesturesPlease, have mercy...! ○|￣|_How to get: ShopPoseGesturesAn everyday gesture, show your confidence.How to get: ShopPunchGesturesPow! Pow! Take that! o(￣ヘ￣o#)How to get: ShopReady to RollGesturesToot-toot!How to get: ShopResting Stance ⅠGesturesAn everyday gesture, take a moment to rest.How to get: ShopResting Stance ⅡGesturesAn everyday gesture, take a moment to rest.How to get: ShopSecret HideoutGesturesNo one's here. Only the tall grass.How to get: Trial Rank RewardShore LeisureGesturesTuck away a little sunshine and a bit of beach, and it's summer wherever you go.How to get: ShopShore Leisure: VioletGesturesTuck away a little sunshine and a bit of beach, and it's summer wherever you go.How to get: ShopShore Leisure: White SakuraGesturesTuck away a little sunshine and a bit of beach, and it's summer wherever you go.How to get: ShopSilkrain: ApricotGesturesConsumable, single use. Countless bursts light the night, each a heartbeat traced in fire.How to get: ShopSilkrain: AzureGesturesConsumable, single use. Countless bursts light the night, each a heartbeat traced in fire.How to get: ShopSilkrain: GiltGesturesConsumable, single use. Countless bursts light the night, each a heartbeat traced in fire.How to get: ShopSnapfreezeGesturesAfter a headlong sprint, savour a moment of stillness.How to get: ShopSnapfreeze: GiltGesturesAfter a headlong sprint, savour a moment of stillness.How to get: ShopSnapfreeze: White SakuraGesturesAfter a headlong sprint, savour a moment of stillness.How to get: ShopSnowfall Serenade: CelesteGesturesA tiny snowflake drifts into a young girl's dream, joining her in an enchanting serenade.How to get: ShopSnowfall Serenade: GiltGesturesA tiny snowflake drifts into a young girl's dream, joining her in an enchanting serenade.How to get: ShopSnowfall Serenade: White SakuraGesturesA tiny snowflake drifts into a young girl's dream, joining her in an enchanting serenade.How to get: ShopSorcerer's ApprenticeGesturesMagic... marvellous, isn't it?How to get: Trial Rank RewardSpinning HelixGesturesDoooo you wanna spin?How to get: ShopTactical PostureGesturesHabitual gestures often reveal what lies beneath the mind.Tactical Posture: Melee WeaponGesturesRegularly checking your weapon's condition may tip the odds in your favour.How to get: Lunoeggy's Impression ShopTactical Posture: Ranged WeaponGesturesRegularly checking your weapon's condition may tip the odds in your favour.How to get: Lunoeggy's Impression ShopTemptation of Treasure ChestsGesturesNo traveller can resist a chest found along the road.How to get: Trial Rank RewardThe ConnoisseurGesturesWhen did this glorious moon begin to be? Cup in hand, I asked of the azure sky.How to get: ShopThrone Above All: GiltGesturesI stand atop the peaks.How to get: ShopThrone Above All: Leaden GreyGesturesI stand atop the peaks.How to get: ShopThrone Above All: VioletGesturesI stand atop the peaks.How to get: ShopTrapped in BedGesturesHelp! The bed refuses to let me go.Verses on Strings: AzureGesturesA melody of midsummer and violets, plays upon the strings.How to get: ShopVerses on Strings: CaramelGesturesA melody of midsummer and violets, plays upon the strings.How to get: ShopVerses on Strings: Opaque WhiteGesturesA melody of midsummer and violets, plays upon the strings.How to get: ShopBlade-run KnightCollectiblesAll those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain.Blade-run Knight: CelesteCollectiblesAll those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain.Calamity HarbingerCollectiblesDisaster follows in its wake. Fly Speed ＋50%. No Reputation Perk is required to pilot this vehicle.Filbert, let's go go go: GiltCollectiblesOink oink? Oink oink. Oink oink!Filbert, let's go go go!CollectiblesOink oink? Oink oink. Oink oink!Into the NightveilCollectiblesPitch-black wings cleave the night, bearing a lone figure towards a far shore untouched by moonlight. Fly Speed ＋50%. No Reputation Perk is required to pilot this mount.Mecha-Sable Bi'anCollectiblesA mechanical mount developed by Master Gongshang, lifelike enough to pass for a real Sable Bi'an. Ride it through Mistwharf, and you are sure to turn a few heads.Mecha-Sable Bi'an: CelesteCollectiblesA mechanical mount developed by Master Gongshang, lifelike enough to pass for a real Sable Bi'an. Ride it through Mistwharf, and you are sure to turn a few heads.Mecha-TaihaoCollectiblesA mechanised aerial craft built by Master Gongshang, modelled after Lord Argent. There's only one in all Huaxu, kept as a prized showpiece in Gongshang's workshop. Thankfully, he only built one. If replicas of Taihao ever filled the skies, the Ministry of Rites would come knocking in outrage. Yet Master Gongshang remains unmoved, set on mass-producing it all the same. Good luck to him. Fly Speed ＋50%. No Reputation Perk is required to pilot this mount.NekralCollectiblesNight draws its veil across heaven and earth. Hoarse whistles echo beneath it. No Reputation Perk is required to pilot this mount.Sigil: BerenicaCollectibles"Our tale spans over two millennia: a saga of embrace and massacre, of furore and mercy. History ebbs and flows like the celestial dance of the sun and the moon, constant and cyclical. In the grand tapestry of time recounted in these pages, I am but a mere observer, as insignificant as a flake of Hyperborean snow, a leaf from Aethyrie, a drop in Luca's waters, or a grain from Khemet's sands. Yet, in this immense cosmos, I harbour the hope that snowflakes will forge snowfields, leaves will form forests, drops of water will coalesce into rivers, and grains will gather to sculpt deserts. As all singular entities unite, history shall pivot in our favour." Betwixt Leaves And Branches, History of Atlasia, by Comnena, Chief Librarian of the Aethyrie Cloud Cavern LibrarySigil: CamillaCollectibles"Our tale spans over two millennia: a saga of embrace and massacre, of furore and mercy. History ebbs and flows like the celestial dance of the sun and the moon, constant and cyclical. In the grand tapestry of time recounted in these pages, I am but a mere observer, as insignificant as a flake of Hyperborean snow, a leaf from Aethyrie, a drop in Luca's waters, or a grain from Khemet's sands. Yet, in this immense cosmos, I harbour the hope that snowflakes will forge snowfields, leaves will form forests, drops of water will coalesce into rivers, and grains will gather to sculpt deserts. As all singular entities unite, history shall pivot in our favour." Betwixt Leaves And Branches, History of Atlasia, by Comnena, Chief Librarian of the Aethyrie Cloud Cavern LibrarySigil: DaphneCollectibles"Our tale spans over two millennia: a saga of embrace and massacre, of furore and mercy. History ebbs and flows like the celestial dance of the sun and the moon, constant and cyclical. In the grand tapestry of time recounted in these pages, I am but a mere observer, as insignificant as a flake of Hyperborean snow, a leaf from Aethyrie, a drop in Luca's waters, or a grain from Khemet's sands. Yet, in this immense cosmos, I harbour the hope that snowflakes will forge snowfields, leaves will form forests, drops of water will coalesce into rivers, and grains will gather to sculpt deserts. As all singular entities unite, history shall pivot in our favour." Betwixt Leaves And Branches, History of Atlasia, by Comnena, Chief Librarian of the Aethyrie Cloud Cavern LibrarySSigil: EveCollectibles"Our tale spans over two millennia: a saga of embrace and massacre, of furore and mercy. History ebbs and flows like the celestial dance of the sun and the moon, constant and cyclical. In the grand tapestry of time recounted in these pages, I am but a mere observer, as insignificant as a flake of Hyperborean snow, a leaf from Aethyrie, a drop in Luca's waters, or a grain from Khemet's sands. Yet, in this immense cosmos, I harbour the hope that snowflakes will forge snowfields, leaves will form forests, drops of water will coalesce into rivers, and grains will gather to sculpt deserts. As all singular entities unite, history shall pivot in our favour." Betwixt Leaves And Branches, History of Atlasia, by Comnena, Chief Librarian of the Aethyrie Cloud Cavern LibrarySigil: FalsiCollectibles"Our tale spans over two millennia: a saga of embrace and massacre, of furore and mercy. History ebbs and flows like the celestial dance of the sun and the moon, constant and cyclical. In the grand tapestry of time recounted in these pages, I am but a mere observer, as insignificant as a flake of Hyperborean snow, a leaf from Aethyrie, a drop in Luca's waters, or a grain from Khemet's sands. Yet, in this immense cosmos, I harbour the hope that snowflakes will forge snowfields, leaves will form forests, drops of water will coalesce into rivers, and grains will gather to sculpt deserts. As all singular entities unite, history shall pivot in our favour." Betwixt Leaves And Branches, History of Atlasia, by Comnena, Chief Librarian of the Aethyrie Cloud Cavern LibrarySigil: FinaCollectibles"Our tale spans over two millennia: a saga of embrace and massacre, of furore and mercy. History ebbs and flows like the celestial dance of the sun and the moon, constant and cyclical. In the grand tapestry of time recounted in these pages, I am but a mere observer, as insignificant as a flake of Hyperborean snow, a leaf from Aethyrie, a drop in Luca's waters, or a grain from Khemet's sands. Yet, in this immense cosmos, I harbour the hope that snowflakes will forge snowfields, leaves will form forests, drops of water will coalesce into rivers, and grains will gather to sculpt deserts. As all singular entities unite, history shall pivot in our favour." Betwixt Leaves And Branches, History of Atlasia, by Comnena, Chief Librarian of the Aethyrie Cloud Cavern LibrarySigil: FloraCollectibles"Our tale spans over two millennia: a saga of embrace and massacre, of furore and mercy. History ebbs and flows like the celestial dance of the sun and the moon, constant and cyclical. In the grand tapestry of time recounted in these pages, I am but a mere observer, as insignificant as a flake of Hyperborean snow, a leaf from Aethyrie, a drop in Luca's waters, or a grain from Khemet's sands. Yet, in this immense cosmos, I harbour the hope that snowflakes will forge snowfields, leaves will form forests, drops of water will coalesce into rivers, and grains will gather to sculpt deserts. As all singular entities unite, history shall pivot in our favour." Betwixt Leaves And Branches, History of Atlasia, by Comnena, Chief Librarian of the Aethyrie Cloud Cavern LibrarySigil: FushuCollectibles"Our tale spans over two millennia: a saga of embrace and massacre, of furore and mercy. History ebbs and flows like the celestial dance of the sun and the moon, constant and cyclical. In the grand tapestry of time recounted in these pages, I am but a mere observer, as insignificant as a flake of Hyperborean snow, a leaf from Aethyrie, a drop in Luca's waters, or a grain from Khemet's sands. Yet, in this immense cosmos, I harbour the hope that snowflakes will forge snowfields, leaves will form forests, drops of water will coalesce into rivers, and grains will gather to sculpt deserts. As all singular entities unite, history shall pivot in our favour." Betwixt Leaves And Branches, History of Atlasia, by Comnena, Chief Librarian of the Aethyrie Cloud Cavern LibrarySigil: HellfireCollectibles"Our tale spans over two millennia: a saga of embrace and massacre, of furore and mercy. History ebbs and flows like the celestial dance of the sun and the moon, constant and cyclical. In the grand tapestry of time recounted in these pages, I am but a mere observer, as insignificant as a flake of Hyperborean snow, a leaf from Aethyrie, a drop in Luca's waters, or a grain from Khemet's sands. Yet, in this immense cosmos, I harbour the hope that snowflakes will forge snowfields, leaves will form forests, drops of water will coalesce into rivers, and grains will gather to sculpt deserts. As all singular entities unite, history shall pivot in our favour." Betwixt Leaves And Branches, History of Atlasia, by Comnena, Chief Librarian of the Aethyrie Cloud Cavern LibrarySigil: HildaCollectibles"Our tale spans over two millennia: a saga of embrace and massacre, of furore and mercy. History ebbs and flows like the celestial dance of the sun and the moon, constant and cyclical. In the grand tapestry of time recounted in these pages, I am but a mere observer, as insignificant as a flake of Hyperborean snow, a leaf from Aethyrie, a drop in Luca's waters, or a grain from Khemet's sands. Yet, in this immense cosmos, I harbour the hope that snowflakes will forge snowfields, leaves will form forests, drops of water will coalesce into rivers, and grains will gather to sculpt deserts. As all singular entities unite, history shall pivot in our favour." Betwixt Leaves And Branches, History of Atlasia, by Comnena, Chief Librarian of the Aethyrie Cloud Cavern LibrarySigil: KezhouCollectibles"Our tale spans over two millennia: a saga of embrace and massacre, of furore and mercy. History ebbs and flows like the celestial dance of the sun and the moon, constant and cyclical. In the grand tapestry of time recounted in these pages, I am but a mere observer, as insignificant as a flake of Hyperborean snow, a leaf from Aethyrie, a drop in Luca's waters, or a grain from Khemet's sands. Yet, in this immense cosmos, I harbour the hope that snowflakes will forge snowfields, leaves will form forests, drops of water will coalesce into rivers, and grains will gather to sculpt deserts. As all singular entities unite, history shall pivot in our favour." Betwixt Leaves And Branches, History of Atlasia, by Comnena, Chief Librarian of the Aethyrie Cloud Cavern LibrarySigil: Lady NifleCollectibles"Our tale spans over two millennia: a saga of embrace and massacre, of furore and mercy. History ebbs and flows like the celestial dance of the sun and the moon, constant and cyclical. In the grand tapestry of time recounted in these pages, I am but a mere observer, as insignificant as a flake of Hyperborean snow, a leaf from Aethyrie, a drop in Luca's waters, or a grain from Khemet's sands. Yet, in this immense cosmos, I harbour the hope that snowflakes will forge snowfields, leaves will form forests, drops of water will coalesce into rivers, and grains will gather to sculpt deserts. As all singular entities unite, history shall pivot in our favour." Betwixt Leaves And Branches, History of Atlasia, by Comnena, Chief Librarian of the Aethyrie Cloud Cavern LibrarySigil: LisbellCollectibles"Our tale spans over two millennia: a saga of embrace and massacre, of furore and mercy. History ebbs and flows like the celestial dance of the sun and the moon, constant and cyclical. In the grand tapestry of time recounted in these pages, I am but a mere observer, as insignificant as a flake of Hyperborean snow, a leaf from Aethyrie, a drop in Luca's waters, or a grain from Khemet's sands. Yet, in this immense cosmos, I harbour the hope that snowflakes will forge snowfields, leaves will form forests, drops of water will coalesce into rivers, and grains will gather to sculpt deserts. As all singular entities unite, history shall pivot in our favour." Betwixt Leaves And Branches, History of Atlasia, by Comnena, Chief Librarian of the Aethyrie Cloud Cavern LibrarySigil: LynnCollectibles"Our tale spans over two millennia: a saga of embrace and massacre, of furore and mercy. History ebbs and flows like the celestial dance of the sun and the moon, constant and cyclical. In the grand tapestry of time recounted in these pages, I am but a mere observer, as insignificant as a flake of Hyperborean snow, a leaf from Aethyrie, a drop in Luca's waters, or a grain from Khemet's sands. Yet, in this immense cosmos, I harbour the hope that snowflakes will forge snowfields, leaves will form forests, drops of water will coalesce into rivers, and grains will gather to sculpt deserts. As all singular entities unite, history shall pivot in our favour." Betwixt Leaves And Branches, History of Atlasia, by Comnena, Chief Librarian of the Aethyrie Cloud Cavern LibrarySigil: MargieCollectibles"Our tale spans over two millennia: a saga of embrace and massacre, of furore and mercy. History ebbs and flows like the celestial dance of the sun and the moon, constant and cyclical. In the grand tapestry of time recounted in these pages, I am but a mere observer, as insignificant as a flake of Hyperborean snow, a leaf from Aethyrie, a drop in Luca's waters, or a grain from Khemet's sands. Yet, in this immense cosmos, I harbour the hope that snowflakes will forge snowfields, leaves will form forests, drops of water will coalesce into rivers, and grains will gather to sculpt deserts. As all singular entities unite, history shall pivot in our favour." Betwixt Leaves And Branches, History of Atlasia, by Comnena, Chief Librarian of the Aethyrie Cloud Cavern LibrarySigil: Mors · HydroCollectibles"Our tale spans over two millennia: a saga of embrace and massacre, of furore and mercy. History ebbs and flows like the celestial dance of the sun and the moon, constant and cyclical. In the grand tapestry of time recounted in these pages, I am but a mere observer, as insignificant as a flake of Hyperborean snow, a leaf from Aethyrie, a drop in Luca's waters, or a grain from Khemet's sands. Yet, in this immense cosmos, I harbour the hope that snowflakes will forge snowfields, leaves will form forests, drops of water will coalesce into rivers, and grains will gather to sculpt deserts. As all singular entities unite, history shall pivot in our favour." Betwixt Leaves And Branches, History of Atlasia, by Comnena, Chief Librarian of the Aethyrie Cloud Cavern LibrarySigil: Mors · HydroCollectibles"Our tale spans over two millennia: a saga of embrace and massacre, of furore and mercy. History ebbs and flows like the celestial dance of the sun and the moon, constant and cyclical. In the grand tapestry of time recounted in these pages, I am but a mere observer, as insignificant as a flake of Hyperborean snow, a leaf from Aethyrie, a drop in Luca's waters, or a grain from Khemet's sands. Yet, in this immense cosmos, I harbour the hope that snowflakes will forge snowfields, leaves will form forests, drops of water will coalesce into rivers, and grains will gather to sculpt deserts. As all singular entities unite, history shall pivot in our favour." Betwixt Leaves And Branches, History of Atlasia, by Comnena, Chief Librarian of the Aethyrie Cloud Cavern LibrarySigil: OutsiderCollectibles"Our tale spans over two millennia: a saga of embrace and massacre, of furore and mercy. History ebbs and flows like the celestial dance of the sun and the moon, constant and cyclical. In the grand tapestry of time recounted in these pages, I am but a mere observer, as insignificant as a flake of Hyperborean snow, a leaf from Aethyrie, a drop in Luca's waters, or a grain from Khemet's sands. Yet, in this immense cosmos, I harbour the hope that snowflakes will forge snowfields, leaves will form forests, drops of water will coalesce into rivers, and grains will gather to sculpt deserts. As all singular entities unite, history shall pivot in our favour." Betwixt Leaves And Branches, History of Atlasia, by Comnena, Chief Librarian of the Aethyrie Cloud Cavern LibrarySigil: PhantasioCollectibles"Our tale spans over two millennia: a saga of embrace and massacre, of furore and mercy. History ebbs and flows like the celestial dance of the sun and the moon, constant and cyclical. In the grand tapestry of time recounted in these pages, I am but a mere observer, as insignificant as a flake of Hyperborean snow, a leaf from Aethyrie, a drop in Luca's waters, or a grain from Khemet's sands. Yet, in this immense cosmos, I harbour the hope that snowflakes will forge snowfields, leaves will form forests, drops of water will coalesce into rivers, and grains will gather to sculpt deserts. As all singular entities unite, history shall pivot in our favour." Betwixt Leaves And Branches, History of Atlasia, by Comnena, Chief Librarian of the Aethyrie Cloud Cavern LibrarySigil: PsycheCollectibles"Our tale spans over two millennia: a saga of embrace and massacre, of furore and mercy. History ebbs and flows like the celestial dance of the sun and the moon, constant and cyclical. In the grand tapestry of time recounted in these pages, I am but a mere observer, as insignificant as a flake of Hyperborean snow, a leaf from Aethyrie, a drop in Luca's waters, or a grain from Khemet's sands. Yet, in this immense cosmos, I harbour the hope that snowflakes will forge snowfields, leaves will form forests, drops of water will coalesce into rivers, and grains will gather to sculpt deserts. As all singular entities unite, history shall pivot in our favour." Betwixt Leaves And Branches, History of Atlasia, by Comnena, Chief Librarian of the Aethyrie Cloud Cavern LibrarySigil: RandyCollectibles"Our tale spans over two millennia: a saga of embrace and massacre, of furore and mercy. History ebbs and flows like the celestial dance of the sun and the moon, constant and cyclical. In the grand tapestry of time recounted in these pages, I am but a mere observer, as insignificant as a flake of Hyperborean snow, a leaf from Aethyrie, a drop in Luca's waters, or a grain from Khemet's sands. Yet, in this immense cosmos, I harbour the hope that snowflakes will forge snowfields, leaves will form forests, drops of water will coalesce into rivers, and grains will gather to sculpt deserts. As all singular entities unite, history shall pivot in our favour." Betwixt Leaves And Branches, History of Atlasia, by Comnena, Chief Librarian of the Aethyrie Cloud Cavern LibrarySigil: RebeccaCollectibles"Our tale spans over two millennia: a saga of embrace and massacre, of furore and mercy. History ebbs and flows like the celestial dance of the sun and the moon, constant and cyclical. In the grand tapestry of time recounted in these pages, I am but a mere observer, as insignificant as a flake of Hyperborean snow, a leaf from Aethyrie, a drop in Luca's waters, or a grain from Khemet's sands. Yet, in this immense cosmos, I harbour the hope that snowflakes will forge snowfields, leaves will form forests, drops of water will coalesce into rivers, and grains will gather to sculpt deserts. As all singular entities unite, history shall pivot in our favour." Betwixt Leaves And Branches, History of Atlasia, by Comnena, Chief Librarian of the Aethyrie Cloud Cavern LibrarySigil: RhythmCollectibles"Our tale spans over two millennia: a saga of embrace and massacre, of furore and mercy. History ebbs and flows like the celestial dance of the sun and the moon, constant and cyclical. In the grand tapestry of time recounted in these pages, I am but a mere observer, as insignificant as a flake of Hyperborean snow, a leaf from Aethyrie, a drop in Luca's waters, or a grain from Khemet's sands. Yet, in this immense cosmos, I harbour the hope that snowflakes will forge snowfields, leaves will form forests, drops of water will coalesce into rivers, and grains will gather to sculpt deserts. As all singular entities unite, history shall pivot in our favour." Betwixt Leaves And Branches, History of Atlasia, by Comnena, Chief Librarian of the Aethyrie Cloud Cavern LibrarySigil: SibylleCollectibles"Our tale spans over two millennia: a saga of embrace and massacre, of furore and mercy. History ebbs and flows like the celestial dance of the sun and the moon, constant and cyclical. In the grand tapestry of time recounted in these pages, I am but a mere observer, as insignificant as a flake of Hyperborean snow, a leaf from Aethyrie, a drop in Luca's waters, or a grain from Khemet's sands. Yet, in this immense cosmos, I harbour the hope that snowflakes will forge snowfields, leaves will form forests, drops of water will coalesce into rivers, and grains will gather to sculpt deserts. As all singular entities unite, history shall pivot in our favour." Betwixt Leaves And Branches, History of Atlasia, by Comnena, Chief Librarian of the Aethyrie Cloud Cavern LibrarySigil: Su YiCollectibles"Our tale spans over two millennia: a saga of embrace and massacre, of furore and mercy. History ebbs and flows like the celestial dance of the sun and the moon, constant and cyclical. In the grand tapestry of time recounted in these pages, I am but a mere observer, as insignificant as a flake of Hyperborean snow, a leaf from Aethyrie, a drop in Luca's waters, or a grain from Khemet's sands. Yet, in this immense cosmos, I harbour the hope that snowflakes will forge snowfields, leaves will form forests, drops of water will coalesce into rivers, and grains will gather to sculpt deserts. As all singular entities unite, history shall pivot in our favour." Betwixt Leaves And Branches, History of Atlasia, by Comnena, Chief Librarian of the Aethyrie Cloud Cavern LibrarySigil: TabetheCollectibles"Our tale spans over two millennia: a saga of embrace and massacre, of furore and mercy. History ebbs and flows like the celestial dance of the sun and the moon, constant and cyclical. In the grand tapestry of time recounted in these pages, I am but a mere observer, as insignificant as a flake of Hyperborean snow, a leaf from Aethyrie, a drop in Luca's waters, or a grain from Khemet's sands. Yet, in this immense cosmos, I harbour the hope that snowflakes will forge snowfields, leaves will form forests, drops of water will coalesce into rivers, and grains will gather to sculpt deserts. As all singular entities unite, history shall pivot in our favour." Betwixt Leaves And Branches, History of Atlasia, by Comnena, Chief Librarian of the Aethyrie Cloud Cavern LibrarySigil: Truffle and FilbertCollectibles"Our tale spans over two millennia: a saga of embrace and massacre, of furore and mercy. History ebbs and flows like the celestial dance of the sun and the moon, constant and cyclical. In the grand tapestry of time recounted in these pages, I am but a mere observer, as insignificant as a flake of Hyperborean snow, a leaf from Aethyrie, a drop in Luca's waters, or a grain from Khemet's sands. Yet, in this immense cosmos, I harbour the hope that snowflakes will forge snowfields, leaves will form forests, drops of water will coalesce into rivers, and grains will gather to sculpt deserts. As all singular entities unite, history shall pivot in our favour." Betwixt Leaves And Branches, History of Atlasia, by Comnena, Chief Librarian of the Aethyrie Cloud Cavern LibrarySigil: Vita · LuminoCollectibles"Our tale spans over two millennia: a saga of embrace and massacre, of furore and mercy. History ebbs and flows like the celestial dance of the sun and the moon, constant and cyclical. In the grand tapestry of time recounted in these pages, I am but a mere observer, as insignificant as a flake of Hyperborean snow, a leaf from Aethyrie, a drop in Luca's waters, or a grain from Khemet's sands. Yet, in this immense cosmos, I harbour the hope that snowflakes will forge snowfields, leaves will form forests, drops of water will coalesce into rivers, and grains will gather to sculpt deserts. As all singular entities unite, history shall pivot in our favour." Betwixt Leaves And Branches, History of Atlasia, by Comnena, Chief Librarian of the Aethyrie Cloud Cavern LibrarySigil: Vita · LuminoCollectibles"Our tale spans over two millennia: a saga of embrace and massacre, of furore and mercy. History ebbs and flows like the celestial dance of the sun and the moon, constant and cyclical. In the grand tapestry of time recounted in these pages, I am but a mere observer, as insignificant as a flake of Hyperborean snow, a leaf from Aethyrie, a drop in Luca's waters, or a grain from Khemet's sands. Yet, in this immense cosmos, I harbour the hope that snowflakes will forge snowfields, leaves will form forests, drops of water will coalesce into rivers, and grains will gather to sculpt deserts. As all singular entities unite, history shall pivot in our favour." Betwixt Leaves And Branches, History of Atlasia, by Comnena, Chief Librarian of the Aethyrie Cloud Cavern LibrarySigil: Vita · UmbroCollectibles"Our tale spans over two millennia: a saga of embrace and massacre, of furore and mercy. History ebbs and flows like the celestial dance of the sun and the moon, constant and cyclical. In the grand tapestry of time recounted in these pages, I am but a mere observer, as insignificant as a flake of Hyperborean snow, a leaf from Aethyrie, a drop in Luca's waters, or a grain from Khemet's sands. Yet, in this immense cosmos, I harbour the hope that snowflakes will forge snowfields, leaves will form forests, drops of water will coalesce into rivers, and grains will gather to sculpt deserts. As all singular entities unite, history shall pivot in our favour." Betwixt Leaves And Branches, History of Atlasia, by Comnena, Chief Librarian of the Aethyrie Cloud Cavern LibrarySigil: Vita · UmbroCollectibles"Our tale spans over two millennia: a saga of embrace and massacre, of furore and mercy. History ebbs and flows like the celestial dance of the sun and the moon, constant and cyclical. In the grand tapestry of time recounted in these pages, I am but a mere observer, as insignificant as a flake of Hyperborean snow, a leaf from Aethyrie, a drop in Luca's waters, or a grain from Khemet's sands. Yet, in this immense cosmos, I harbour the hope that snowflakes will forge snowfields, leaves will form forests, drops of water will coalesce into rivers, and grains will gather to sculpt deserts. As all singular entities unite, history shall pivot in our favour." Betwixt Leaves And Branches, History of Atlasia, by Comnena, Chief Librarian of the Aethyrie Cloud Cavern LibrarySigil: Yale and OliverCollectibles"Our tale spans over two millennia: a saga of embrace and massacre, of furore and mercy. History ebbs and flows like the celestial dance of the sun and the moon, constant and cyclical. In the grand tapestry of time recounted in these pages, I am but a mere observer, as insignificant as a flake of Hyperborean snow, a leaf from Aethyrie, a drop in Luca's waters, or a grain from Khemet's sands. Yet, in this immense cosmos, I harbour the hope that snowflakes will forge snowfields, leaves will form forests, drops of water will coalesce into rivers, and grains will gather to sculpt deserts. As all singular entities unite, history shall pivot in our favour." Betwixt Leaves And Branches, History of Atlasia, by Comnena, Chief Librarian of the Aethyrie Cloud Cavern LibrarySigil: YumingCollectibles"Our tale spans over two millennia: a saga of embrace and massacre, of furore and mercy. History ebbs and flows like the celestial dance of the sun and the moon, constant and cyclical. In the grand tapestry of time recounted in these pages, I am but a mere observer, as insignificant as a flake of Hyperborean snow, a leaf from Aethyrie, a drop in Luca's waters, or a grain from Khemet's sands. Yet, in this immense cosmos, I harbour the hope that snowflakes will forge snowfields, leaves will form forests, drops of water will coalesce into rivers, and grains will gather to sculpt deserts. As all singular entities unite, history shall pivot in our favour." Betwixt Leaves And Branches, History of Atlasia, by Comnena, Chief Librarian of the Aethyrie Cloud Cavern LibrarySigil: ZhiliuCollectibles"Our tale spans over two millennia: a saga of embrace and massacre, of furore and mercy. History ebbs and flows like the celestial dance of the sun and the moon, constant and cyclical. In the grand tapestry of time recounted in these pages, I am but a mere observer, as insignificant as a flake of Hyperborean snow, a leaf from Aethyrie, a drop in Luca's waters, or a grain from Khemet's sands. Yet, in this immense cosmos, I harbour the hope that snowflakes will forge snowfields, leaves will form forests, drops of water will coalesce into rivers, and grains will gather to sculpt deserts. As all singular entities unite, history shall pivot in our favour." Betwixt Leaves And Branches, History of Atlasia, by Comnena, Chief Librarian of the Aethyrie Cloud Cavern LibraryTaixu RoverCollectiblesI ride the wind upon my sword.Taixu Rover: CaramelCollectiblesI ride the wind upon my sword.Taixu Rover: Emerald GreenCollectiblesI ride the wind upon my sword.Taixu Rover: Leaden GreyCollectiblesI ride the wind upon my sword.Throne of ContemplationCollectiblesI heard cries of loyalty, and saw the stars set ablaze.1234
