Duet Night Abyss story · Side stories
The Biggest Crisis Mistwharf's Ever Seen!
Journey Across the Lands
6 scenes, 431 lines
1. Speak with the black marketeer
37 lines
Heard you can get hold of some "Finale Flare".
...Who are you? And who pointed you my way?
Easy. I'm just here to buy some "Finale Flare".
I'm Mr Qiu's honoured guest.
...Is that so. Don't recognise you. Sorry. I deal with regulars.
Little Minion... this is bad. He's getting suspicious!
Careful is fine. But money's money, isn't it?
Fine. Stay right here. I'll drag that old codger over and you can ask him yourself.
Uh... alright. Just this once. But listen. Once you walk out of here, you say nothing. Not a word about "Finale Flare" in Haze Market.
I've got regulars to keep happy. Don't make trouble for me.
Wait... a, are there many people buying these?
Course there are. The Scourge of Zhuyin has choked the routes. Half the supplies people rely on can't get through anymore. This batch, though... heh. I had to call in quite a few favours to pull it in from Hyperborea.
And it's been flying off the shelves this year. One big buyer took half the lot. Said the Grand Incense Rite's coming up. They're going to make a real splash in EverSpring.
No, no, no... if they go off all at once, EverSpring's going to...
Easy, Snow. Breathe.
Why so jumpy? The Hyperborean stuff's loud. Want me to light one for you?
Whoa! Easy! Don't do anything stupid!
Not now? Hah. Fair enough. It's better with a crowd anyway... hee-hee...
"With a crowd"? He's going to get everyone at once! That's evil! This guy's horrible!
...Does the Nine Chapters of Dafeng really allow this sort of thing?
Ha! The Nine Chapters? That thing's a thousand years old. Full of loopholes. Everyone scraping by in Haze Market knows how to work them.
...Can I ask you something? Why are you doing this?
Hm? You're not here to buy, you're here to chat? I run a stall, not a tea party.
No, no. I'm buying. Easy. We're new around here. Just trying to get a sense of how things work before we spend a small fortune.
...Alright. If you really want to know, it's a long story.
I didn't have many friends as a kid. Wasn't good at much, either. Then I got on the wrong side of the Nine Chapters over some personal mess. After that, people kept their distance.
So I ended up in Haze Market. Outsiders love to call this place rotten. But truth is, the people here are sharp. They look after their own.
Hang around long enough, you learn the trade. Now I just do my part for Mr Qiu's grand design.
Punished by the Nine Chapters... shunned by everyone... raised by the black market... I knew it! He's totally plotting revenge on the whole world!
Still... you don't have to do this. If you're in a tight spot, maybe I can help.
A tight spot? Oh, you could say that.
Phew... Good. He's not a total lunatic. So, what's the problem? I'll see what I can do.
I'm sitting on a few dozen boxes of "Finale Flare". Once the Rite's over, they'll be dead stock. So do me a favour. Take the lot.
A few dozen!? You've got that many!?
I wouldn't say that. It's hardly enough. One good show and it's gone.
A few dozen... yeah. One "show" and it's gone. Everything's gone...
Er... give me a moment. I need to talk to my friend.
2. Speak with Snow
8 linesLittle Minion... what do we do!? Do we have time to pack and run?
Right. So much for talking. Silver lining is, he's not on guard yet. We've still got a chance.
Snow, distract him when you can. I'll circle round and pin him down.
O, Okay... be careful, Little Minion...
I know this is an emergency, but whatever you do, don't hurt him! If we draw a Bi'an, we're done for.
Relax. I've done this many times. I'll use the scabbard.
Hey! You two. Make up your minds. Are you buying or not?
Uh, yes! Coming, coming!
3. Sneak up behind the black marketeer
3 linesWhat, short on cash? For Mr Qiu's sake, I'll even give you a discount.
Now!
What, trying to double-cross me!? Boys! Get 'em!
4. Speak with the black marketeer
15 linesD, Don't come any closer!
(You hold back your strength, forcing the smugglers to scatter. One of them shoves over a crate labelled "Finale Flare" to block your way before he bolts.)
Get down!
(At the last second, you grab Snow and roll aside. Snow trembles, clutching your sleeve with a squeak. A deep rumble builds behind you...)
(But the blast never comes. Instead, a dazzling firework blooms over Haze Market.)
...Huh?
Ow... Seriously... was all that really necessary over a few crates of smuggled fireworks? Fine, fine. Keep your money! Boys, scarper!
(The smugglers vanish, leaving you and Snow rooted to the spot. As that firework fades above Haze Market, more and more fireworks light up the sky above Mistwharf.)
What... is going on?
So... when he said "Finale Flare"... he just meant fireworks...
Looks like we got the wrong end of the stick. We owe them an apology.
Mm... you're right...
Next time you cry wolf like that, I'm dumping you in Huaxu and taking Lunocarp back to Icelake.
Nooo, waaaah...!
...Still, though. Little Minion, the fireworks here are really pretty, aren't they?
5. Present the journal you found to Lady Hilin
19 linesYoung one, any news of Hamel Dickinson?
(Indeed, it is the same name on the title page of the journal you retrieved from Glevum Pit.)
(If your guess is correct, then the monster haunting the depths of the pit might just be...)
(Her cloudy eyes brighten slightly at the mention of that man. The name Hamel Dickinson clearly holds great significance for her. She is awaiting an answer.)
...
(Word by word, she silently reads through the journal. Tears stream down her deeply lined cheeks.)
(She then clasps the journal to her chest, as if embracing a long-lost beloved.)
...Thank you, young one. Thank you for uncovering this secret that's been buried for forty years.
Please see my maid Sally for your reward. I'd like some time alone.
(She turns away, her frail, stooped back towards you.)
...
Sorry, I've never heard that name. If I get any news, I will get back to you.
Okay, okay... Thank you.
I've prepared a gift. Please go to my house and ask for my maid, Sally, and tell her that Lady Hilin sent you.
Just go. May you have a smooth journey.
Child, you're Vita, the Phoxhunter, aren't you? Lady Hilin told me to pay you in advance.
Should you hear anything about Hamel Dickinson, please do tell her ladyship as soon as possible.
*sigh* She's been really going downhill since last year, and now I'm afraid she doesn't have much time left. Information about Hamel is the last remaining thing weighing on her mind.
Could you tell me more about Mr Dickinson?
6. Talk to Sally
349 linesYoung one, any news of Hamel Dickinson?
(Indeed, it is the same name on the title page of the journal you retrieved from Glevum Pit.)
(If your guess is correct, then the monster haunting the depths of the pit might just be...)
(Her cloudy eyes brighten slightly at the mention of that man. The name Hamel Dickinson clearly holds great significance for her. She is awaiting an answer.)
...
(Word by word, she silently reads through the journal. Tears stream down her deeply lined cheeks.)
(She then clasps the journal to her chest, as if embracing a long-lost beloved.)
...Thank you, young one. Thank you for uncovering this secret that's been buried for forty years.
Please see my maid Sally for your reward. I'd like some time alone.
(She turns away, her frail, stooped back towards you.)
...
Sorry, I've never heard that name. If I get any news, I will get back to you.
Okay, okay... Thank you.
I've prepared a gift. Please go to my house and ask for my maid, Sally, and tell her that Lady Hilin sent you.
Just go. May you have a smooth journey.
Child, you're Vita, the Phoxhunter, aren't you? Lady Hilin told me to pay you in advance.
Should you hear anything about Hamel Dickinson, please do tell her ladyship as soon as possible.
*sigh* She's been really going downhill since last year, and now I'm afraid she doesn't have much time left. Information about Hamel is the last remaining thing weighing on her mind.
Could you tell me more about Mr Dickinson?
Child, thank you for all your help. Here's a little something for you.
*sigh* Her ladyship's health has worsened since last year, and I fear she doesn't have much time left. Her past with Mr Dickinson was the last thing on her mind...
Though it wasn't the news we hoped for, I still want to thank you for helping her retrieve this final piece of her past.
Well... I suppose there's no point in keeping secrets now.
You might have guessed, Mr Dickinson was her ladyship's beau forty years ago. At that time, her ladyship... well, it was Miss Hilin back then, was a cheerful, lively girl.Hamel Dickinson was a miner of her age, working at her father's Glevum Pit.
As it often goes in such stories, the greater their social divide, the more stubbornly they clung to each other against all odds.
They say love burns brighter under opposition, but those stories don't tell you how quickly it can be extinguished by harsh reality!
When the master, who was the director of Glevum Pit appointed by the Aeolipile, learned about their relationship, Hamel Dickinson received a terrible thrashing instead of the master's blessing.
It was not just because of his background, the master had already arranged a politically advantageous marriage for Miss Hilin. She was supposed to marry a noble from Flagson, a perfect match that would benefit both a new money family and a declining noble line.
But Miss Hilin didn't give up. She was such a brave and assertive young lady back then. She secretly asked me to deliver a letter to Mr Dickinson, asking him to meet her at midnight on April 26th at the Silverpeace Square.
That day happened to be the master's birthday, and all hands would be busy preparing for the celebration. Miss Hilin saw it as her only chance to escape her father's control.
She made up her mind that if he showed up, she would run away with him, no matter the destination.
That's right. Miss Hilin waited there till dawn, but only her furious father showed up. Soon after, she was sent away like a parcel to Flagson.
Thank goodness that her husband, his lordship, treated her well, and she spent forty peaceful years with him. She never mentioned those days again, as if Hamel Dickinson had never existed.
A year ago, his lordship passed away, and her ladyship's health began to fail. One day, she suddenly told me she wanted to return to Icelake in her final days, to find the answer she deserved. That's when I realised, she had never forgotten Hamel Dickinson, he had become a missing piece of her heart.
So we moved back to Icelake, but no one knew of Hamel Dickinson's whereabouts. We managed to track down a few old miners, but after racking their memories, the last time they remembered seeing Mr Dickinson was forty years ago...
*sigh* I wonder if her ladyship will see her final wish come true.
Well, it's all in the past. I've been talking your ear off for so long... Guess I'm getting on in years.
You're a Phoxhunter, must be quite busy with your commissions. I won't keep you any longer.
(She will probably not get the answer.)
(Hamel ventured deep into the pit for Hilin, where he became a Filthoid, a creature so terrifying it became a legend over forty years. His fate was sealed when he was finally slain, a truth too harsh for an old lady with little time left.)
(The cruel truth would remain buried forever in the depths of the pit, with Lady Hilin carrying on with hope until her last days. Perhaps this is as close to a good ending as one might hope for.)
...I never expected the truth to be like this! Turns out Mr Dickinson didn't stand her up, and it was because of Lady Hilin that he went to that pit... I don't know if this means consolation or more pain to her.
...I really don't know how to console her ladyship at the moment...
Ugh, my head hurts! I should go prepare dinner now. I just hope my soup might make her feel a little better.
(Although the truth is harsh, in her final days, she has finally found the answer that was forty years late. At least, she won't have to step into the grave with doubts and regrets. Perhaps this is as close to a good ending as one might hope for.)
Well... I suppose there's no point in keeping secrets now.
You might have guessed, Mr Dickinson was her ladyship's beau forty years ago. At that time, her ladyship... well, it was Miss Hilin back then, was a cheerful, lively girl.Hamel Dickinson was a miner of her age, working at her father's Glevum Pit.
As it often goes in such stories, the greater their social divide, the more stubbornly they clung to each other against all odds.
They say love burns brighter under opposition, but those stories don't tell you how quickly it can be extinguished by harsh reality!
When the master, who was the director of Glevum Pit appointed by the Aeolipile, learned about their relationship, Hamel Dickinson received a terrible thrashing instead of the master's blessing.
It was not just because of his background, the master had already arranged a politically advantageous marriage for Miss Hilin. She was supposed to marry a noble from Flagson, a perfect match that would benefit both a new money family and a declining noble line.
But Miss Hilin didn't give up. She was such a brave and assertive young lady back then. She secretly asked me to deliver a letter to Mr Dickinson, asking him to meet her at midnight on April 26th at the Silverpeace Square.
That day happened to be the master's birthday, and all hands would be busy preparing for the celebration. Miss Hilin saw it as her only chance to escape her father's control.
She made up her mind that if he showed up, she would run away with him, no matter the destination.
He didn't show up?
That's right. Miss Hilin waited there till dawn, but only her furious father showed up. Soon after, she was sent away like a parcel to Flagson.
Thank goodness that her husband, his lordship, treated her well, and she spent forty peaceful years with him. She never mentioned those days again, as if Hamel Dickinson had never existed.
A year ago, his lordship passed away, and her ladyship's health began to fail. One day, she suddenly told me she wanted to return to Icelake in her final days, to find the answer she deserved. That's when I realised, she had never forgotten Hamel Dickinson, he had become a missing piece of her heart.
So we moved back to Icelake, but no one knew of Hamel Dickinson's whereabouts. We managed to track down a few old miners, but after racking their memories, the last time they remembered seeing Mr Dickinson was forty years ago...
S, Scoot if you ain't buying any Phoxene... Stop drawing the soldiers' attention to me...
(Despite his strong, powerful build, the man cowers in the corner. His shifty gaze and the bag of Phoxene by his side suggest he's desperate to rid himself of it but hesitant to ask for help.)
Show some mercy and look the other way, please. Once I sell this load of Phoxene I'll leave Icelake at once and never ever come back.
(The man grabs his bag and bolts. After a breathless chase, you manage to tell him who you really are and convince him you were joking. In a hushed voice, he reveals his dire circumstances.)
Find me a buyer and I'll let you take 70 percents! No, 80! Please! I really need the help!
(You've agreed to the man's request. But the way his eyes dart about, and the dried streaks of crimson on the sack he's hauling, hint that there's more to this Phoxene than he's letting on.)
Great, Vita isn't around today...
Looking for me?
...Whoa! Speak of the devil!
Huh, this must be a trap. You're trying to distract me with an errand, aren't you?
(The phone by the gate suddenly rings. Kevin leaps up like a startled hare and quickly picks up the phone.)
Kevin speaking. What? Suspicious guy in the city? Got it. I'm on my way.
...Probably the one you just mentioned. Could you lead the way?
You friggin' liar! Why did you bring the soldiers over?
Shut up and put your hands where I can see them... Hands open wide, and drop that bag!
(With a gun barrel pointed straight at his head, Larry hesitates shortly before letting go of the bag. The bag drops to the ground and bloodstained Phoxene scatter all over the place.)
...Gosh. Did you kill your buddies by bashing them with those rocks?
They attacked me first... It... It was all self-defence!
Well, none of us can be the judge of that! Alright, you need to come with us!
It wasn't me! Wasn't my fault...! It's the bag of Phoxene! If we never opened this damned bag, all of us would still be around! We'd all be alive!
*sigh*
Oh, before I forget, Thank you, Vita, for assisting the Escort. Here's your reward.
Kevin drags Larry away, disappearing into the distance.
The bloody story of the "bloodstained stones" became yet another tale buried under the Icelake snow.
(A loud man is holding court, his dramatic recitations drawing bursts of laughter from the patrons.)
Phantoms from the deep mountains, ghosts from the Icelake itself!
They're pressing in! They're getting closer!
...You can hardly imagine!
A phantom!!! A silent stalker that ignores the doors!!!
As you can see, we've got a bit of a situation here.
Mr Buck. Can't handle even a drop of alcohol, so it's always fruit juice or milk for him. Profession... third-rate playwright, first-rate producer of mumble-jumble. He's been spinning his yarns for a while now.
As you can see, the man struggles to convey his thoughts clearly. Could you help by translating his flamboyant narratives?
It's okay. I doubt there are more than five people in Icelake who can understand his words.
Only a sharp mind like yours is suited for this task.
(You tune into the playwright's bombastic musings.)
Nights can be particularly long for poets... and playwrights! Our pens track the vibe amongst people, and our hearts naturally rise and fall with the moon and tide!
When the night falls, we can cast away the blinding sun, the worldly voices, and the unsettled thoughts and reflections. It is the hour when I can truly commune with the cosmos itself!
Alas! Either my unwitting arrogance has peeved the goddess of inspiration, or the deity of sleep has played his cruel tricks on me! Otherwise, I would have noticed the sands of time trickling by!
I ought to have greeted dawn with pages filled with prose and stanzas. Instead, I awoke refreshed with an empty soul, and my sheets of paper blank!
In my enthralling dreams, I heard gentle footsteps, light as the dance of fairies. The scent of ripe fruits slathered in sweet honey wafted through the air!
Perhaps I was lost in my dreams, but those sounds and smells brought me back to reality! They are ephemeral, lingering by my side. Yet I am certain of their existence...
They are not hallucinations, yet I fail to grasp their trails. I cannot fathom these strange incidents. Are they phantoms? Ghosts? Or mere illusions?
My dilapidated abode remained untouched. This spirit stole nothing but my inspiration, which I cherish as dearly as life itself! It threatens to shatter my dreams...
A playwright's night cannot be squandered on sleep! I implore any of you to heed my plea! Banish this vile burglar of inspiration so that my magnum opus may yet be completed!
I shall bestow upon you the honour and perhaps grant you the role of the hero in my next epic! Demonstrate your unmatched skills to me so that I may dedicate myself to chronicling the biography of the great Phoxhunter, my saviour!
So this appears to be a pro bono commission. It sounds interesting, though. Are you willing to take it?
Oh! A champion has answered my call for help! Perhaps this marks the beginning of a new epic odyssey!
I am exceedingly curious about the adventures you will undertake. Please, do share your story with me once you return!
Achoo! It's getting colder...
Even a Charon has limits on cold tolerance... The temperature will be down by twenty degrees this evening. We might lose a few kids to the cold. *sigh*...
Hello.
Greetings, my dear patron! Did you enjoy the play? You must be hungry after sitting through the show for three hours! Would you like some snacks and drinks?
Or perhaps you were captivated by the thrilling performance, how about a poster with the thespians' signatures?
Okay, let's see what you've got.
A special edition poster signed by Vitti, Tales of Icelake souvenir albums, glacial meltwater, theatre-themed popcorn... and refreshing beer!
Don't you worry! This barely contains any alcohol and won't get you drunk!
That's hard to say... Do you happen to know Mr Buck the playwright?
Of course I do! Mr Buck frequents the theatre and is one of my most cherished patrons! Despite being a noble, he actually respects Charon kids like me. Mr Buck is one fine gentleman!
I know people make fun of Mr Buck, but unlike most people, he genuinely deserves respect.
That may be true, but I doubt it gives you the right to sneak into his house through the window and pour beer into his milk.
H, How did you know?
Mr Buck has a habit of writing his works at night. Your actions have delayed his progress for a month, so he hired me to find the mysterious "Inspiration Stealer".
(You formulate a theory but pause before articulating it, needing to organise your thoughts more clearly.)
Your business income isn't enough to cover your needs through the winter. Mr Buck might not be wealthy, but he is a noble and his house is warm enough. So, you sneaked into Mr Buck's home for the heating.
As for why you chose Mr Buck, even the smallest amount of alcohol makes him doze off. You could then sleep in his house without the fear of freezing to death. Am I right?
Ugh... You are indeed a great detective. You've got every detail right.
You might as well arrest me. I'm truly sorry for what I did. Though if I hadn't done it, I wouldn't be here for you to arrest...
I don't get to decide what to do with you. I'm taking you to my client.
(Just as I thought.)
We thank thee for the sacrifice, mercy, and the Silverpeace that kept the plague, ignorance, and demons far from us...
Emma? Emma!? Snap out of it.
Sorry, Miss Lisse! Coming!
Emma, you have been distracted lately. Focus, will you?
Ugh... This is so boring... I wonder how Granny's doing.
Well, I have my reasons. I can tell you about it, but you must promise to keep it a secret.
Well, yeah!
Alright, I'll tell you.
Last month, I sneaked out to the slums and ran into a mysterious old lady called Belinda in an alleyway!
And she's got magic hands, she can braid all sorts of pretty pigtails and dye my nails with fresh flowers! She even told me stories I'd never heard before!
Ms Belinda never nagged at me nor treated me like a child. Though it was the first time I met her, she felt like my own granny when she held me in her arms...
That sounds really beautiful. Why do you want to keep it a secret?
Because Ms Belinda has horns... She might get into trouble if I tell my parents, classmates, or teachers about her...
We were supposed to meet today. But I can't make it anymore because the school suddenly added this memorial event. If you have the time, could you bring this doll to her?
I gotta go meet my classmates. Please make sure you give the doll to Ms Belinda. Thank you!
May our student, Emma, offer the floral tribute...
(The girl stands at the corner with her head down. She looks very upset.)
(The girl turns her head away. She does not seem very eager to talk.)
It's you...
Were those your... classmates?
Yeah... I'm sorry... Really sorry... I messed up again.
Were they picking on you?
No... It's all my fault...
I can't do anything right. Both my mom and my teachers say I'm stupid.
My classmates are smart. They said that the reason I'm stupid is because I'm a Charon, and my parents hid my horns with magic.
It's all my fault... I shouldn't have showed up among Solas...
(You know that is a blatant lie. It also brings up unpleasant memories of what happened to you and Berenica on Purgatorio Island.)
(Those malicious acts may have been invited because of your weakness and differences, or, perhaps they just happened, the perpetrators only wanted to vent their hatred and you were just unlucky.)
(But this girl is more helpless than you. She didn't even have a friend like Berenica to share the pain.)
It isn't my fault...?
The fault lies with those who are mean to others.
There's nothing to be afraid of. Fight back.
Huh...?
Since they call you a demon, you might as well act like one.
Huh...?
They came up with a lie and made fun of you. But...
Since they call you a demon, you might as well act like one.
Let's go back and confront them.
Tsk. A new face.
(The man before you squints, his lips cracked and dry, as he gruffly spits out his words.)
Tell me. Who sent you here?
(Answering a question with another question always works.)
(It is obvious that he's waiting for someone.)
(I don't know what he meant, but that's an answer that no one will refuse.)
(The man broods silently for a while, assessing you. His posture decrepit as he raises his head with an audible creak.)
You smooth talker.
(He snorted, but he seemed to be satisfied with your answer.)
I don't care who the fixer is. You're here for the stuff in my pocket, ain't that right?
(He opens his collar to reveal a dull iron piece.)
(After showing it, he quickly conceals it again, looking around warily.)
Calibre 4. Double barrelled. Single shot. No Charon or Filthoid can survive a blast from this baby.
(His lip curls, as if he's just discussing the uses of a pesticide.)
You can have it for free, but I'll need you to do something for me.
Cut the crap. You're here for this piece of metal, ain't that right?
Do the job, and it's yours. I can even give you extra money.
Are you in or what? I ain't got all day.
Fine, I'm in. What's the deal?
Good. I'll give you a location. Kill everything there except for a woman.
So... A bad romance, huh?
None of your beeswax. Just get it done.
(The man tightens his collar and licks his dried lips, unwilling to utter another word.)
Ah, it's you, Vita!
I really appreciate what you did for us last time! The money helped the families in the slums get food on the table. They wanted me to thank you for that.
It's nothing.
It's everything! I haven't met anyone as kind, capable, and polite as you in ages.
How's life in Icelake, now that you've been here for a while?
Well, even though I agree that life is a journey to the finish line, it would be a shame to miss out on the scenery along the way!
I TOTALLY UNDERSTAND THAT! I felt exactly the same when I first got here! The place has so many strange rules and the people are pretty weird as well!
Hmm, guess your hometown is not very safe... You're not happened to be a refugee as well, huh?
Anyway, let's talk about something else.
Ooh! Come check out what I've got lately! They are all novelties and strange little gadgets. If you find anything you like, I'll give you a 20% discount as a thank-you for helping me catch that filthy thief.
(You stoop to take a closer look at Margie's "new arrivals." The shelves are filled with random objects, most of which have obviously been used before, but they have all been cleaned meticulously.)
But they're fun. The real value isn't all about money, you know!
Of course not! I'm an upright citizen! Somebody probably chucked them, but it would be a crime to see them end up in the bin. I just want to find a loving home for them!
Heheh. That's a business secret!
(You find it hard to turn down her generous offer and start going through Margie's shelves to find something valuable.)
Didn't find anything that catches your eye? Well, come back next time when I restock.
Not bad. You've got an eye for value and treasure. Perhaps you have the keen senses of a detective!
A detective? That's all it takes?
The things you picked up are hardly worth anything in cold hard cash. Most people simply ignored them. But they might also be the most valuable things here.
The price lies in... their mysterious and interesting backstories! You chose it specifically for that reason, right?
With patience and meticulous observation, you can definitely unveil the story and secrets behind the treasure.
Never underestimate rubbish bins. They're usually where interesting stories and crime evidence are found! Me myself slowly learned my way about Icelake by going through its dustbins, you know.
Already curious, huh? Want to learn more about this city? Pay now and you can take these babies home for some digging up!
(Wait, did I just walk into a setup...?)
Hey! Stop looking at me as if I'm running a rip-off scam! This is just marketing. And you've already noticed something special about them, right? You can't just give up halfway.
What, you're not even gonna haggle? You're making me feel a bit guilty...
Hmm, getting down to the dimes and nickels, eh? You're truly a Phoxhunter...
Heyyyy! Don't go! At least try to haggle a bit! Come on!
Now they are yours. Think of it as my token of extreme gratitude for your help in catching that thief the other day!
(Margie stuffs the three items into your arms before you can refuse.)
Good luck with your investigations, Detective!
Once you've investigated the stories behind them, come back and tell me what you think about Icelake!
May your soul find peace in the depths of the Misty Sea...
(In this place burdened with your poignant memories, a woman draped in black veils speaks softly, eyes downcast. Her lantern emits a soft, eerie glow as she murmurs her prayer.)
What are you doing here?
Who are you?
You have come, child... Please, wait while I complete this final rite.
…May you be reborn within the bosom of Mother Embla.
Greetings, child. I roam as the Ferrywoman of the Misty Sea, or, if you prefer a more personal touch, you may call me Lady Nifle.
I heard the whispers of a wandering soul here, so I came to guide her to return to the Misty Sea.
A wandering soul?
Indeed. Child, have you come here for someone who has passed?
How did you know?
My eyes can see the longings of souls.
As I guided her, I glimpsed all she held dear, and among these visions, I saw you.
...She was a friend of mine.
I... I failed to protect her. She must be... disappointed in me.
Quite the opposite. Many souls I've witnessed depart with intense grievances and bitterness, their cries thick as the fog along the riverbanks.
But her voice was very gentle. It bore no sorrow, anger, nor resentment, only expressions of gratitude and... blessings.
Perhaps, those were meant for you.
But...
I miss her terribly.
I refuse to accept this ending.
(Lady Nifle smiles gently, as if she had anticipated your response.)
Child, I have lived long and bid farewell to countless souls, and I've heard such words time and again.
Just as plants succumb to wildfires and bugs perish in storms... Impermanence is a part of life. Sooner or later, death touches us all.
Rather than cursing fate's indifference and cruelty, or lamenting our frailty, we can choose to... cherish the memories we hold dear.
After all, if death is the inevitable, then every moment alive is a miracle that defies the odds, isn't it?
I believe that the gentle soul who journeyed to the Misty Sea would also wish that... when you recall your time together, you'd find yourself smiling, not crying with grief.
What's the Misty Sea like?
The Misty Sea... is the cradle and resting place of life for the people of Charon. Souls of the deceased return there, and the living emerge from it, life flowing in endless cycles.
If that's the case...
Can I go to the Misty Sea and bring her back?
Will she ever return to me?
(Lady Nifle does not answer immediately. She raises her tender, compassionate eyes, and after a long pause, speaks again...)
Were it someone else asking, my answer would be thus: The cycle of life and death is a universal law, not to be defied by human might.
However, child, I sense... you are bound by an unusual destiny.
One day, when you have garnered enough strength to confront this world's truths and perhaps even challenge its very laws... then, perhaps the river to the Misty Sea might flow backwards for you.
You mean...!?
Hehe... I am merely an observer by the riverbank. The answer to this question must be discovered by yourself.
If your heart truly yearns for it, then proceed on your path.
Godspeed, dear child.
Child, even though the path ahead is uncertain, always proceed with determination.
May Mother Embla bless you.
You here, ask about trains? Careful, mean gatekeeper girl here!
Enough for me! Want to leave, very, very much!
Still learning! Language here, different from home!
(This ticket seller looks tough. But considering you'll eventually need to leave Icelake, crossing paths with her seems inevitable... Should you take action now?)
(Perhaps this "intel" you got from Margie could help break the ice...)
(Despite good intentions, you're momentarily at a loss for solutions.)
Thank you! You are good! I watch you handle this!
This time, I'll go with pink ones!
(The woman smiles as she picks up the carefully chosen pink blooms. Looking up, she notices you.)
Hello there. Are you here to buy flowers too?
Take a look? Pink flowers like these are quite rare, you know.
Could I have them?
Hehe, of course!
(She reaches out, deftly takes a few more stems from the shelf, pays for them along with her own, and hands them to you.)
Here you are.
No need to thank me. Just think of it as you sharing in his good fortune.
Thank you, I think they're lovely too.
You can have them if you like.
I'm sure he wouldn't have minded either.
Oh no, I can't stand pink!
Oh dear, I'm so sorry to hear that.
Well, it's true. Not everyone likes pink, I suppose...
Now that you mention it, perhaps he didn't either... But never mind! Let's just pretend he did.
Are these flowers for someone?
Yes. I have a faerie friend, much like you with horns, and these are for him.
Faerie?
Oh, that's what he called himself.
I'm Charon.
Well, "faerie" was his word for it.
Speaking of which,has the wind picked up outside?
I didn't notice.
I see... No matter, I'll check for myself later.
It's quite windy.
That's wonderful.
I can make wind, even if there isn't any.
Really? You're that powerful? That's very kind of you.
I need to wait for the wind to pick up before I can give him the flowers.
Why do you need the wind?
Because when the wind blows, the flowers can float up into the sky.
Is your friend a wind faerie, by any chance?
An interesting thought! Perhaps he is.
Is this some special kind of ritual?
Well... it's a ritual for sending thoughts to someone.
That friend of mine... he went up to the sky several years ago.
Today is the annual day of remembrance.
(Remind her of Charon customs.)
(For a moment, you can't quite recall the details of the custom.)
In Charon belief, the Misty Sea is where souls go. If you wish to remember him, sending the flowers onto the water would make more sense.
Well... I know. But he was different.
(The woman falls silent, gazing out the window, her eyes filled with a gentle nostalgia.)
I first met him outside the city. We were the same age, and our personalities just clicked, so we became fast friends.
He told me he was a "faerie" from the sky... Hehe, truthfully, I knew all along he was Charon. But every time I saw him trying so hard to keep up the story, I couldn't bear to spoil it for him.
Besides, he really was just like a faerie from the stories, he knew so many things I didn't, and always had endless fascinating tales to tell.
Sounds like a wonderful friend.
Yes! He's the best friend ever.
So he was playing the part of a faerie his whole life?
Sounds a bit childish when you put it like that, doesn't it?
It always bothered me a little... wondering how we would finally talk about it, once we grew up and passed the age where believing in fairy tales came naturally.
Whether I brought it up or he did, just imagining it felt so awkward...
But in the end, we never reached that point. He left before we came of age.
Do you think... he might have chosen to leave at that precise time because he knew? What a gentle soul he was...
(The woman strokes the soft petals, gently lowering her gaze. You can't quite decipher the emotion on her face.)
Sorry for your loss.
It's okay. It's been years.
You're both incredibly kind people.
Then... thank you.
Coming of age... Did he start showing signs of Deterioration?
Well, that's what I thought. After all, he left just before he turned eighteen.
He had foreseen his own fate. The last time we met, he told me he was returning to his homeland in the sky and wouldn't be able to visit me anymore.
It was the most poorly told lie of his life... His eyes were already brimming with tears, yet he forced a smile and said to me in the cheeriest voice...
"Please don't be sad. Even though I can't come to see you anymore, I'll be watching over you from above the clouds, always..."
"Whenever you look up at the sky, your thoughts will reach me on the wind."
(As she says this, the woman smiles. Is it a trick of the light, or is there a faint glimmer in her eyes, a tear, or perhaps a reflection from the sun through the window pane?)
So, that's why you cast the flowers into the sky?
Indeed. Since that was the story he wanted to tell me, I choose to believe that his final resting place isn't the Misty Sea, but the vast blue sky.
As long as I scatter the petals to the wind, he'll feel my thoughts.
I hope he receives your flowers.
I'm sure he will receive them.
...Thank you.
Looking back now, I think he probably knew all along that I had seen through his little charade.
A story woven from lies, ending with a lie... doesn't that seem rather fitting, in a way?
Right, I'd best be off outside the city walls to keep my promise to him before it gets dark.
Goodbye, little faerie. May your own story have a true and happy ending.
Hello again, little faerie. Lovely weather we're having, isn't it?