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You... someone... save me!

You... infernal...

The young Feline clasps fast the councilor's neck, violent sparks crackling.

Aaaaagh!!! Help me! Aaghhh!

Now you're frightened! Now you're scared!

Spare me! I beg of you... don't kill me... aaaaghggghhh!!!

Whatever you want... I'll give you... aaaghh!

Spare me! Just spare me!

What gives you the right... to destroy my life—what gives you the right...

You... you...

The young Feline lets her unrestrained anger loose. Councilor Bishmer twitches and spasms under her Originium Arts, frothing at the mouth and gasping what could be his last gasps.

Urkh...

Behind her, massive vines suddenly surge out past fragments of concrete, their roots bracing the steel frames. The city's lights shine down through an opening, illuminating a silhouette.

Susie! Susie! Stop it!

The Druid of Gododdin hurries to embrace the Infected before her. The fierce sparks burn her skin, but still she holds on.

Calm down, Susie... it's me, it's over now...

...Qu... Quercus...

It's alright, Susie, everything's over.

People like that... aren't worth what you're doing. Let's go home.

Quercus... *sob*...

It's alright, it's alright now. I'm here.

Home... the Green Spark's... gone... go home where...?

Don't fret. Do you remember what I always say?

'Life always finds a place where it belongs.'

Let's go, little Susie. It's time to go home.

Quercus... I... I...

Ungh...

In the narrow interstice between soil and stone, lattices of steel, and constructs of forsaken material, a young Feline lets out a deep, low wail, a weight fallen from her back.

November 30th, 1097, 7:45 A.M.

Professor, I'm here.

Ah, good morning, Miss Mountbelan.

Ah, no, you're 'Operator Skyfire' now, I presume?

Good enough spirits to crack a joke, I see.

Here, turn that frown upside-down! I'm quite alright.

You're in the hospital! I wouldn't call that alright!

Speaking of which, how did everything shake out in the end?

The City Council passed your proposal, even if you only gained a single supporter.

That's worth celebrating, Miss Mountbelan.

Is it really, Professor?

There's still old nobility against the Infected community, and they've all ganged up in private. The clashing's only going to worsen from now on.

Now they're just waiting for Duke Gododdin to come back. They've signed a joint letter asking the Duke to abolish your title and strip you of your noble status.

It's VERY stacked against you.

Hahahaha...

I'm already a good 153 years old, Miss Mountbelan.

I'm looking to retire next year, retreat to my little castle, and take up a bit of my studies.

Titles, status, authority.

Do you think any of that still concerns me?

If things proceed without much hiccup, you'll be back at Rhodes Island too, won't you? Send Dame Kal'tsit my regards.

I will...

I'm just worried for you somewhat, Professor.

Now, now, what's to worry for? Look at my rickety old body.

I tell you, some things people go and say are all but pompous and, well, completely meaningless excuses.

People are already too accustomed to lying with pretentious jargon. So the lies pile up, and as lofty as it was meant to be, the principle gets washed out in the process.

Miss Mountbelan, do you know why I pushed for that proposal for Caladon so?

You mean, the reason all that pretention sticks around?

Twenty years ago, a scientist named Janet Longfellow published an essay.

She set forth this view: if we don't streamline and improve on our current Originium industry and its waste products, then the year-on-year buildup of industrial waste may bring about frightening consequences.

At the time, Victoria's academic circles all turned their noses up at that, and the nobles wielded public opinion to unabashedly ridicule this fine scientist. In her anger, she left Victoria altogether.

But in the last ten years, the amount of Infected in Victoria has accelerated at a worrying rate.

Times have changed, Miss Mountbelan. We have to face the issues that 'Oripathy' and the 'Infected' bring. Maintaining this status quo will only worsen things.

153 years, Miss Mountbelan. It's not common to see people live as long as I do, even among Savra.

But a long life's a good thing. It gives you the chance to see firsthand the folds and changes of history, to learn from your mistakes.

In my century and a half, I've witnessed the toppling of Gaul's majestic palace, the fall of Iberia's golden city.

In the plains of Columbia, I saw for myself the destruction the Grand Duke's army wrought on the frontier territories. I saw the Columbians in their sharp, steep ascent over the wastes.

If Victoria can't change, then in the end, it'll only be another Gaul.

It's just as I've told you, Miss Mountbelan.

Times have changed.

You're back? I thought the Guards would've been slower than that.

Oh, no, if it isn't our honorary citizen, star of all the front pages.

Your picture was very decent in the paper. Who knew you could be so photogenic, Susie?

Was it very heavy, that meter-wide certificate saying you've the lay of the land? Did you get tired lifting it for the cameras?

Come on, stop being sarcastic with her.

'The City's Hero' though... that's pretty impressive, isn't it!

What about that awful councilor, in the end?

Taken into custody!

Are the Guards still acting as normal, after such a big blunder?

It's not that easy, obviously, but we'll have someone from the Mounted Police taking over the Guards soon.

That sounds good, I'd think.

Shame we've still got no way to make up for li'l Susie's losses... Bishmer's assets all got seized by the City Council.

Do you want a sweet? I've still got plenty of flavors here you haven't tried before!

Will the council really not give you a single penny? Nothing except a certificate? Oh, forget it, they've always been this way.

Come here, perk yourself up a little with something sugary. Your artifact smile on that photo looked like you could cry.

...Thanks.

I... I don't even know what to do at this point, really...

Think on the bright side! At least those evildoers are brought to justice now.

I'll admit, I still feel so many problems are waiting to be solved... but this is as far as we're able to intervene.

Quercus, are you leaving?

Mm. I'll be back in Victoria very soon, however.

Will you come back to Caladon?

More someplace in the wastes than a nomadic city, I think.

That's right, Susie, have you ever thought of bartending somewhere else?

Huh?

You see, the Green Spark may be gone now... but there's still plenty of Infected who'll need a drink.

You could hairdress too. I know a lot of people who do nothing but get into fights. Some of them have never been to nomadic cities before. Some of them never think about themselves.

Eh? Could I really?

Of course you could! There's all sorts of interesting people aboard Rhodes Island. You might as well go take a look, and not too many people are specialty hairdressers there in the first place.

Hahaha... I'll give it a try?

(Everyone's been talking about Rhodes Island... What kind of place is it, I wonder?)

November 28th, 1097, 10:24 P.M.

Underground logistics passages of Caladon