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It is cruel to force them to forgive and forget. The persecution of the Sarkaz is not history. The ancient hatred is what drives many to survive until this day.

I am the King of Sarkaz. The responsibility is all mine to bear. I must show them a way out of this.

...I see.

Then go. Do what you will.

Theresa, I still do not approve of your vision, but I do support your decision, and the future Military Commission will, too.

If your gaze is set too far to see what lies before you, then I shall sweep away all that obstructs you at the moment, just as always.

I know.

Come, let's go home. Kazdel still needs us for what's about to happen.

Oh, yes. Scareye mentioned the prophecy again as I was leaving...

The signs of a pessimistic fate.

And your reaction?

I don't care.

Agreed.

Kazdel—a strange yet familiar name.

Many from this great land see it as the pit from which devils crawl—a terrible place to be avoided at all costs.

While to the Sarkaz, the name only evokes equally conflicted emotions.

Despite generations of Sarkaz passing on that Kazdel is the Sarkaz's homeland, an outsider might wonder if they mean the city or the entirety of those lands?

Perhaps only they themselves know.

It never struck me on the way out just how high this wall is... Oh well, at least I can go home alive now. That means I'm pretty lucky.

That man in the Scar Market... that was General Theresis. The first of this city's founders, the hero of that legendary campaign.

*sigh* If I had the courage to ask him to take me in, maybe I could've just...

*sigh*... I'm dreaming again.

He sits atop the high wall, experiencing for the first time a new lease on life.

Few of Kazdel's civilian Sarkaz, save for those children who haven't yet cottoned onto the fear of death, ever climb onto the city wall.

If the tremendous pipes and tubes piled high can even be called a wall.

The intricately tangled 'forest' of Originium spikes can take the lives of anyone who loses their footing, but it also serves as a haven for pilferers and mercenaries to stash their goods.

Smugglers and vagrants cross through the dark underground, peeking out from the tunnels and drains at mines and factories, scuttling from one corner of the city to another.

The life the slave once knew.

The General gave me a fresh start. So what should I do from now on...?

He gazes at the furnace, burning and smoldering far away, teeming with indiscernible workers as they carry Originium, steel, dirt and stones into its hearth.

To Kazdel the nomad, its flames bring motion, while the molten metal that flows out adds new appendage to the city.

For a whole century, it's belched its incessant black smoke. None know whether it's ash or Originium dust. Some say it's the bitter anger and anguish as the revenants exhale their last breaths.

Witchcraft altars hang high in the sky, intermittently flashing their blinding rays. The slave has heard many different versions of their urban legend.

The most frightening version claims that the Royal Court's casters work day and night on the altars, watching everything and listening to every conversation in the city.

Maybe I can try my luck at the factories, too.

It doesn't matter what else... I've made it back alive.

It's been months since I left. I don't know how many of my friends are still alive...

The nomadic city of Kazdel, Kazdel

*Sarkaz swearing* What happened here?

Why are all the doors open and the furniture all smashed...

Pull-Top! You're back!

It's you! What are you doing here? Where'd you get that ornament?

Something big is happening. Royal Court nobles are being dragged out of their houses and killed by mercenaries appearing from nowhere, while the city guards do nothing!

A lot of us have been sneaking into the empty houses, and boy, have we dredged up some good stuff!

How are <i>you</i> still alive, though? Word got out you wanted to leave the city and find your own way, and after so long, we all assumed you died out there.

Heh. You won't believe my luck! First, I was left to die without food or water, then I was taken to the Scar Market... but guess what?

General Theresis saved my life, the General himself! Then, on the way home, I ran into this guy with a halo over his head, calling himself a Messenger, and he brought me all the way back to the city wall.

So, I've decided to change my name to Goodluck starting today. You guys can forget that lousy old name of mine.

Pft, a guy with a halo? A Sankta? And then the General? You sure learned how to lie, <i>Goodluck</i>.

Believe me or don't, but either way, today is a fresh new start for me! I'm gonna go be a miner—

I looted a Nachzehrer's house earlier and found some hot air balloons. Wanna launch me on one and put that luck of yours to good use?

I'm in!

Well, that was fast.

Man, it feels good to be home.

Goodluck glances around at the people swarming the street. This is the life he knows.

If he wants to survive, the city will always offer him a way.

Thank you, fate, and thank you, General.

Autumn, 1031

The nomadic city of Kazdel, Kazdel

Hey, l-let me through already!

Hey, no shoving! You want a good spot, I'll trade you mine for some high-purity Originium out of the mines.

Don't just grab the leaflet out of my hands! Eurgh, that blood all over you stinks...

Can't help it when you're breaking into dead people's houses. Lin...go...nes... That's how you read that word, right?

Where's Lingones?

Gaul.

Oh. Where's Gaul?

How the *Sarkaz swearing* should I know where Gaul is?!

Hey, what's with the attitude?

Shh! The Highnesses and the Royal Court bigshots are discussing something in the chamber. I heard it's about reorganizing the city. Haven't you noticed all the extra guards on the streets recently?

So quiet down a bit!

*sigh* Weather's been real stuffy today.

It is decided.

The Military Commission will replace the War Council in assisting the King of Sarkaz Theresa in decision-making related to Kazdel's military and political affairs.

The Military Commission will be the sole administration of Kazdel, and none will have the authority to issue commands to the Sarkaz in the Royal Court's name.

All present have already received the details of this resolution. To the Royal Court leaders who still wish to cling onto the War Council...

Know that the Military Commission of Kazdel will become the final bastion of the Sarkaz, our eternal fortress, and the usher of a new order.

Are there any further questions?

Your Highness appears more haggard than you did yesterday.

Please, look after your health. No Military Commission is worth it...

If it comes at the cost of Your Highness's health.

Laqeramaline... thank you.

I know how hard you have worked for this day... and I also know how Kazdel today views the Banshees of the Convallis.

But before I state our position, I encountered a lost envoy of the Liches on my journey here. He entrusted me with a letter for your Highnesses.

That he couldn't even find the road here... let this be proof of the immense changes Kazdel has undergone.

Hmm... A letter from Leithanien.

If things are going as expected, Your Highness's Messenger would still not have received any news from the Cyclopes.

Rather than waiting for the response from deep in the blizzard, should we not hear how the Liches of Leithanien answer?

You're right. It has been... a very long time since the Sarkaz were able to truly unite.

Oh?

The ornate calligraphy upon the letter turns into silken threads that float above the paper and weave into the shape of a familiar figure.

Fremont, a Lich who has long resided in Leithanien. It appears that he is now the 'First Scribe' for the Liches.

It seems that the Arts practiced by the Liches of Leithanien have seen some stylistic changes. Oh, he appears rather excited.

Why is there only image, but no sound?

Well...

The Lich envoy did suggest to me that he was rather vexed with refining his master's words, but never did I imagine that he would simply erase all the sound.

In short, Fremont apologizes on behalf of the Liches. They are enthralled as ever by their quest for knowledge, and are therefore unable to afford the distraction of making the long journey here.

But if Kazdel were ever in need of their knowledge, they would happily throw wide the gates to their temple for the people that they have chosen.

I am sure that with your abilities, your Highness can understand Fremont's attitude on the matter from his image alone. To me, it appears as though he is sensitive to drastic change, as has always been his wont.

Ah, yes. There is another letter from Fremont, one addressed directly to the General.

Might I remind you, Laqeramaline, that you are nobody's Messenger.