act22side

Mm. What is it?

You see... I was the one who bashed the soldier with the hoe. I'm the reason everyone has to go on the run.

That night, I saw him beating—beating the Tullys' little girl. So I picked up a hoe someone set aside, and beat him on the head.

I'm shaking, aren't I? I... *sigh* I really am sorry. It's been so long, and I still dream about it.

She was only fourteen. She was screaming, crying, and it... it got to me.

I know I figured, it was so dark out, no lamps allowed and all, so it didn't matter if it might've cracked his skull, shed some blood. Wouldn't have seen it no matter how bad it was.

I just... didn't expect I'd mess this up for so many people.

Afterwards, I thought I'd go with them and try to help everyone settle down, and then I'd leave to atone for my mistakes...

But some of us never even made it, in the end, to a place we could settle down.

Did you make up the charge—about not having your papers in order?

*sigh*. I'm sorry.

I was worried they'd be suspicious when I wasn't on the wanted posters initially. That's why I went to the pharmacy with Fergal... and then I dragged you into this mess too.

Don't say that, Fionn. My identity was bound—to catch up to me one day.

And the Tarans' sorrow—is bound to catch up to everyone, one day.

Alright... alright, alright.

Hey, Moran. Do you want to...

What is it, Fionn?

No, nothing. Here, pass me the rope. You won't get very far tying up your luggage up like that.

Heheh. Fine, you're the expert.

So, you're following Reed into the fight?

Mm. Selmon said I've got the strength to get a lot of things done for them.

But you can't see when there's no light... That'll be hard on you.

Besides, it's war we're talking about. You'll face far more, far greater enemies than we did that night.

The cannons, too. War isn't like the plays, where the heroes take a cut, bleed a drop, fall and climb back up. In real life, people die the ugliest deaths in no time...

But. This is the path I want to choose.

I rarely ever get the chance to choose, and I want to take it.

The caravan's coming in.

Okay, I'll negotiate with them to carry the injured.

Reed... Can I go?

Can I leave, the way I am now?

I believe everything is prepared.

All that's left... is my little sister. She is still lost at a crossroads, but she will make the right decision in the end.

Top Deck of High-Speed Battleship <i>Gastrell</i>

A rib taken from what was once the greatest nomadic city, furnished with the crystallization of the Victorian military's technological prowess. Most should be proud of having the privilege to board this battleship.

Even across all of Terra, I doubt there exists a military machine as worthy of admiration as this.

I expect no less from something bearing the name of a legendary officer under the Draco.

I'm sure many have sought to track it, trying to fathom where you stand...

But after a seven year journey, today is finally the day it comes to shore.

How many Messengers are on the way to report the news of our change of course?

The Duke of Caster and many others besides are paying close attention, but none of their armies will be able to interfere in time.

County Oak Grove has stopped sailing and is ready to link. This is the first time in seven years our ship comes anywhere close to a nomadic city, but there'll be little resupplying or maintenance needed while we're docked.

His Lordship has indicated he'll personally receive you at the dock.

Those Aslan lapdogs. So hesitant, so indolent, they may never even find out who this city truly belongs to until this ship has made it to County Oak Grove.

And they have no idea of the fires that will rise again thence.

Dublinn's army, the Tarans who thirst to be released from this injustice, have made their way here from every part of Victoria.

My strategist... has done very well.

Has my city stopped where I hoped it to?

Yes. Given terrain limitations and safety considerations, this is the position closest to the ruins that this city's course can reach.

What do you think, Princess Eblana? You paid those ruins a visit on your way here.

I think this will suffice. It doesn't matter how highly those who clamor for the restoration of Taran culture think of King Gaeil's palace. It's ultimately no more than a decaying ruins.

When the time comes, the romanticist dreamers need only catch one glimpse of it through the wild morning mist, and it will sink in that what once stood atop the hills perished in Catastrophe. That will do.

From what I hear, once the Taran dynasty fell and the Dracos fled, the Aslans let that castle stand empty until the day Catastrophe claimed it. The Tarans have all but forgotten it.

The remnants of that olden dynasty... were never of any intrigue to begin with.

The title of King Gaeil was bestowed upon him by Victoria's regent. He was no more than a more celebrated servant. If his crown was still extant, I would destroy it. If his throne still remained, I would render it ashes.

But the place lacks even those to speak of.

Hence why the young Warwick sought to rediscover Taran history starting from the legend of King Gaeil. A fine thing to do, really.

You mean 'The Eulogist' Warwick, the 'Warwick of the Northern Front?' ...Oh, so you knew him?

I once sent an envoy to one of his parties. This battleship began its patrol right around that time.

You've always been of great foresight.

I'd hardly call it much of a long wait.

County Oak Grove... Say, are you keen on seeing it for yourself?

Of course. I'm very curious how it's rebuilt itself since that great fire.

After all, I once called it home.

My elder sister's spear in hand, I stand in the hallway for some time.

Everyone in the manor hangs their heads in silence, trying to keep busy. The moment they see me, they avert their gaze.

Our teacher's health has been poor. He hasn't left his room since making his way back through a snowstorm from a dinner party. Dr. Dale readied him the mulled wine, yet hasn't been punctual in fetching the empty glass.

The muted sounds of crackling wood seep through the gaps in the door. The fireplace must be a bed of warmth on this snowy night, but the flames' eerie silence makes my teeth chatter.

Nonetheless, I open the door.

Now that—you've convinced everyone to turn against me... Why shouldn't I partake in this glass of wine?

I thought you would want to know what your missteps were, such that your servants would seek help from me.

*cough*... That is no matter, Eblana...

What is important is... can you continue to hold their trust?

Yes, of course.

And I see you don't ask why I would agree to help them.

*cough*... I'm sure you know what's going to happen to this city once I'm gone.

The balance of power between the nobles will be lost, and no one will dare to oppose Count Philip in Parliament. Still, our own two junior barons will no doubt set to work in the shadows, so as to earn the Duke of Stafford's favor.

And simultaneously, the Tarans who have just rediscovered their names will lose their leader and protector.

They will continue to be upheaved, trodden down by the harsh rule of law and the nobles... to the point they cannot bear it.

Yet even if you live, all the bloodshed, the violence, the rioting would happen sooner or later.

Wouldn't you say, sir?

Hohoh... and what will you do when that time comes?

I will... reach my hand out, and drag them up from the ashes.

For some unknown reason, a satisfied smile appears on his pale face.

The insatiable Dracos, their ambitions knowing no bounds... Half my life spent searching. It was not in vain... ahh...

He removes his spectacles, and with a slow, arduous turn, faces out through the window, out to the snowstorm.

That gaze, filled with fond nostalgia and earnest expectation, is the same as on that winter night ten years ago, the night he finished reading the legend, the night his fingers brushed across the Taran letters embossed in gold upon the book's spine.

I see... a new age belonging to the Tarans... right in front of us.

Oh...

But Loughshinny...

And you...

You...

I stand motionlessly in the doorway. Reflected on the glass pane is my face, illuminated by the cold flames around us.

Though filled with fear, our pitiful expressions are one and the same.

Loughshinny... whose student will you be?

Course set. Drizzles observed. Wayside stations will allow passage.

Incoming telegram from Viscount Dawson. They would like to use this journey as an opportunity to meet with the Dublinn representative.

More nobles coming over to our side.

Don't you worry. The Leader won't deign to make them any statements.

Did they think a simple show of friendliness would earn them a guarantee of peace from Dublinn, a Taran population kept in check?

I say at some point, they need to learn what constitutes true sincerity.