act29side

They of a millennium ago crafted a superior vision for the country, making 'Leithanien' into a truth of the land.

But all truths eventually decay, and our current friction with Siracusa is the greatest proof of that.

But I will bring a better future to Leithanien.

The new Leithanian ruler produces the Movement and looks at the Lich.

Eternity... immortality...

Herkunftshorn's voice is not heavy, but Fremont hears these hefty words shatter and reassemble between his lips and teeth.

How arrogant of you. How very 'Herkunftshorn.'

But how can you ensure that Leithanien, under your rule, won't face even greater crises? That the future you're bringing will be truly immortal?

There is no composition that can't be written, no Arts that can't be surpassed, no will that can't be overcome, no unknown that can't be conquered...

Immortality lies in renewal.

To this day, both the ocean and the sky remain shrouded in the fog of cognition, and this continent is the limit of what Terrans can know and perceive.

But the knowledge you've shared tells us that even the loftiest clouds and deepest sea trenches are nothing but 'reality' imprisoned by time and space.

And beyond this reality there exists another side of the world. A realm of emptiness, elusive and dangerous.

If the questions are endless, then so too must be the answers.

The Graf's spire in Urtica is too small, so I built the Genesis Spire in Vedunien. It is already the tallest in Leithanien, but not necessarily across all the lands.

But I will never stop. That is the difference between myself and sages past.

<i>That</i> is immortality, Fremont.

I hope that when you build a new spire, you'll make a few extra rooms. So you won't need to use my own secret chamber just to modify a piece of music.

I will.

Now then, let us begin.

I'll go activate all the resonance capture devices. It will all be clearer once we dismantle the melody later.

Herkunftshorn sits firmly on the chair in the center of the room, unfolding the Movement. Fremont nudges aside priceless ancient tomes to make room for the witchcraft matrices.

By the way, Fremont, what is it you call the other side of the world?

(Sarkaz) 'The beginning and end of all threads.'

A petty name.

Their phylactery grants Liches an almost unique ability among the races. Concealing that phylactery means a life that will not end.

With infinite time, Liches are allowed to glimpse the infinite truths of the world. But do you treat them as merely pages in a tome of knowledge?

Caution is in our nature. The more we discover, the fewer spaces we can live.

Right then, Fremont, what about you?

Me?

'The beginning and end of all threads' ...

You often complain that the Liches under your command are either too young or too hidebound, but have you ever considered entering that space, rather than treating it as simply a drawer in which to hide your phylactery?

A terrible chill sweeps over Fremont.

A faint but dazzling light blooms atop Herkunftshorn's scepter. He has already begun to play the Güldenesgesatz. Fremont's hands have not stopped either.

Lich and Caprinae, King of the Royal Court and Kaiser of Leithanien, they have always moved in tacit agreement.

Even in the tensest moments, the two could insert discussions on various topics. Philosophy, music, and sometimes even the climate and cuisine of Leithanien.

Herkunftshorn had raised the matter so naturally. The true secret threatening the mortality of the Liches.

If he used his Exile to its fullest extent, the lifethreads could dissolve all of these notes in an instant, annihilating the defenseless man before him.

No one else knew the Leithanian Kaiser had come here. He would have enough time to tell the Lich Court to flee the country.

But Herkunftshorn had raised it so naturally, casually bringing up the secret that had remained hidden all these long years.

Hahahaha!

After a long while, Fremont bursts into hearty laughter.

Wonderful. As it happens, I've also encountered some bottlenecks in my study of that space.

If you're really interested, Herkunftshorn...

I could lend you my phylactery.

That's enough, Herkunftshorn.

Don't you find the nostalgia nauseating? It's enough to make me want to vomit last night's leftovers. Besides, I'm running out of time.

It's been a while, Fremont.

I'm sure you remember what you've borrowed. The time has come to return it.