act29side

What a beautiful piece of art.

A calm voice can suddenly be heard in the center of the exhibition hall.

The noise comes to a halt, and the black spirals retreat into the paintings.

This painting...

There's no obvious trace of Originium Arts... so why?

Arts aren't the only thing that can affect the mind.

Something need only be true enough to tug at one's heartstrings, be it a picture or a melody.

But please, don't fear it... feel it.

...It's very intense.

A rich and deep emotion flows in these seemingly messy brushstrokes.

It's... hard to keep looking.

That's because you're looking at a person's soul.

She put both the Witch King in her heart and her very life onto the canvas.

Frau Seemann... What connection did she have with His Majesty?

His death changed her entire life.

As a young woman, she revered the man on the throne. She was in love with a symbol, a god.

And then that god fell right before her eyes.

She was confused, bewildered by his mortality. She lost her love, her purest emotions, and very nearly her ability to create as well.

She was... trapped.

And only when her life was nearing its end did she realize this.

You speak as if you were her.

Her innermost emotions resonated with my melody. I went into the depths of her soul and heard her cry for help.

Cry for help?

It's the same everywhere you go.

Many people are trapped in whatever fateful moment changed the course of their lives, walking along an endless spiral staircase.

Just like...

...Your father. And you as well.

The nights spent up in the spire were always quiet, compared to the clamor of the city.

The cheers grow increasingly loud as elegantly dressed musicians leave one by one with their instruments in tow. She remains the last one in the vehicle.

'Don't be afraid, Viviana.' Someone walks over and holds her hand. 'Kazimierz and Leithanien aren't the same, but you'll get used to it.'

She nods obediently and follows the crowd out of the car.

Still, she subconsciously closes her eyes as the neon lights of the Grand Knight Territory pierce her vision.

She's never told this to anyone, but back then, it wasn't the strange new country she was so afraid of.

After all, her impression of Leithanien came solely from the window in her room, less than a square meter wide. It's hard to say that she knew the country all that well.

What she found so frightening was that the seemingly noisy evening outside might not actually be so different from the small slice of the night in her memories.

Viviana.

Are you alright, Viviana?

...Frau Löwenstein.

I'm reminded of when I first arrived in Kazimierz. Back then... you were holding my hand, just like now.

Your palms are all sweaty. What happened?

I... It's nothing. I just chatted with a strange woman.

I stopped by Graf Josef's office earlier, but I only sensed your presence when I arrived here.

She didn't do anything to me, and showed no hostility either. I think she simply came for the paintings too.

Right, about the paintings...

Hmm.

Ah, I'm sorry. Should I describe what they look like for you?

No, please avert your eyes from them.

Is there something wrong with them?

Their odor.

During the Witch King's reign, people were far more enthusiastic about Originium research than they are today. The casters, or should I say, <i>artists</i> on the side of the Witch King, saw it as more than just an energy source, or a material for conducting Arts.

They believed that Originium was another form of flesh and blood, and could serve as a medium for the soul.

So you're saying, the black substance on the paintings is...

Refined Originium crystals mixed with the artist's blood.

It sounds like this 'exhibit' was rather well thought out.

Go cover up the paintings. Use the heaviest fabric you can, and be sure not to touch the frames.

Understood.

I think the two of you should leave as soon as possible. The intruder has yet to be found, so the art gallery isn't safe.

It's not just us who are in danger.

The people living in this city... everyone needs to be alerted.

The ones who caused Frau Seemann's death and used her to paint these works are most likely...

Please, don't say the name.

Frau Löwenstein, Das Kaiserinnensfest is just around the corner, and you know better than anyone that Their Majesties wouldn't want to see Zwillingstürme fall into chaos.

Which is why we're here.

...Can you at least inform the people who came to the gallery earlier?

I worry for their mental state after seeing such horrific paintings.

How kind of you.

I've already dispatched people to check on the crowd who came today, so don't worry. I also hope they didn't get too close a look.

...Herr Vizegraf.

I don't want Frau Seemann to have died a dubious death.

She was a guest at His Majesty's spire on that night twenty-three years ago, correct?

She witnessed firsthand the fall of the Witch King, and the birth of our national heroes.

...I see.

But what of it?

Believe me, meine Dame, on that night, the youths congregating before that pitch-black spiral spire weren't the only ones thirsting for dawn to break... There were many, many more.

Moreover, most of them did not become the heroes they thought they would be, the brave souls delivering Leithanien's rebirth.

Now, I've gotten an update on my intruder, so if you'll excuse me.

He's right. That night changed many things, but change... isn't necessarily good.

The remnants may have planned Frieda Seemann's death as punishment for 'betraying' the Witch King, or maybe it was meant to send a signal announcing a major move.

...Did they kill my father for the same reason?

Meine Dame.

Shh.

Let me finish listening to this piece.

It's just the performance of a vagrant.

He was playing the same melody this morning, but now with such a different mood.

He expected the gallery to be full of visitors today, and was planning to have a sandwich for dinner with an extra bratwurst to go.

But now he realizes that he might have to go to bed hungry, yet again.

Did you... probe into his mind with your Arts?

No need for that. Haven't you noticed? The homeless gentleman is telling his story right now through his music, again and again. All I'm doing is paying attention.

...His story has nothing to do with us, though. The next stage has already been set.

The stone sculpture by the flowerbed ceases to speak.

Instead of words, it now hums a tune, smooth and deep, from the vibrating structure within.

You Leithanians really do fancy your sound-producing sculptures.

They give a 'perfect' performance every time, but it lacks soul... just like the people trapped in the spires.

Arturia gently blows a petal towards the mouthpiece of a large musical instrument carved into a sculpture.

It rises and falls with the airflow, and the formerly uniform tune immediately changes, ever so slightly.

Much better.

Captain! We were so close to catching the intruder, but he suddenly disappeared on us!

Are the roads outside still under lockdown?

Ja. He can't possibly have grown wings and flown over us, can he?

Wings... heh, hard to say.