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But finding one truck in this huge place? It's searching for a needle in a haystack!

A fitting analogy, but a bit exaggerated. We've got to get a move on, or we'll be here past sundown.

Let's start here. You go east, and I'll go west. Remember, we're looking for trucks with any signs of damage. Don't overlook a single dent, ding, scrape, or scratch.

Got it!

Signs of damage... signs of damage...

How are there this many trucks in this city?

Noemi moves through the sea of vehicles. Busy trucker drivers and workers occasionally pass by, but no one spares her a second glance, or thought.

This isn't right. If someone had been in an accident, why would they stash the damaged truck in such a conspicuous place?

Wait. What are those tarps covering up over there?

Have you found anything on your end?

Not yet. What's wrong? Did you get lost already? I told you to have your coffee this morning.

I don't drink coffee. It's too bitter.

Not when you dunk in a donut or two...

C'mon, let's stay focused on the task at hand. I know the truck we're looking for is hidden around here somewhere! Get over here, quickly!

<p=2>November 7th, 1100 3:15 P.M.</>

You hid the truck in the Port of Nuova Volsinii?

My guy picked up the goods here. He was only halfway out of the city when the accident happened.

It happened so suddenly. He was too afraid to drive the truck over to Famiglia Venezia, or back to the Trucker Camp.

The truck's cabin got all busted up. The damage was far too noticeable, so he had to turn back. He drove back to this port, the place he knows best.

Where exactly is the truck?

Over there.

That's...

The place where all the floats are parked.

Floats?

These giant floats are modeled after the mythical beasts from Siracusan legends. They're going to be the big surprise of the Carnevale. City Hall spent nearly six months preparing them.

They will lead the Carnevale parade across the central avenue and through the entire city. Under the gaze of all the citizens, they will bring the festive atmosphere to its peak.

The port officials have covered them with a tarp, so as not to ruin the surprise.

The driver hid the truck under the tarp?

Yes. Sommer disguised it as one of the floats.

I'm not sure exactly which truck it is. Wait for me here. I'll go talk to the dispatcher.

Why are all the floats moving all of a sudden?

Signorina Lavazza, are you going to check each and every float? You don't think that's a bit much?

No. I'm not going to...

The crane's mechanical arm tears away the tarps, and the Carnevale floats begin rolling out, one by one.

The bizarre, gigantic beasts are exposed to the daylight, starting the grand parade ahead of schedule.

Before Eirene can even react, thick black smoke begins to rise at the end of the procession.

As if unnerved by the sunlight, one of the floats bursts into flames.

It is the 'wolf,' one of the legendary deities born of the wilderness. When the twin moons are high, the wolves sneak into Siracusans' dreams, invoking their primal nature and teaching them to survive.

This wolf is a symbol of Siracusa, its mysterious legends, its long, bloody history, and the limitless future that this new city holds.

But now, the 'deity' is bathed in flames, and Siracusa's future is slowly turning to ash.

What's going on?

Noemi, tell the workers to put out the fire, now!

I'm on it!

Wait. Look at that float. Doesn't it look like it's been in an accident?

You mean, this is the truck we've been looking for, the one that hit the Acting Mayor?

That fire is getting out of control. If we wait for them to put it out, there'll be nothing left.

You think this fire was accidental?

I just think... hiding the truck among the parade floats, then setting it on fire, all just to destroy the evidence? That's both too complicated and blatant.

Or maybe... that's what they want.

It's a message, a provocation.

The fire completely engulfs the float, its flickering flames making it appear as though it were alive. The onlookers can almost hear the towering wolf, ablaze, roaring in the inferno.

A gust of wind blows through, carrying the thick smoke, which spreads like dark clouds, enveloping the entire city.

Suddenly, Noemi thinks to herself, 'maybe being a police officer is harder than it looks.'

What a huge fire... It's hard to make out whose likeness the burned wolf was modeled after.

You? Me? Zaaro or Agnese?

Not any one of us.

Humans can never imagine something beyond their cognition, and they are too fragile, always cowed by fear...

Perhaps to them, all 'uncivilized' lifeforms are like this—baring their teeth and full of menace.

Regardless of how they created that image, they clearly put a lot of effort into it. It's a shame that it was burned like this.

Your wolf pup isn't around. There's no need to act so benevolent.

She doesn't know your identity, nor the truth behind the conflict, yet she almost helped you win this round of the game.

There's no more shameless Signora dei Lupi than you, Caesar.

No.

Projekt Red, my dear girl, her hunting skills were subpar, much less so under the influence of humans.

Victory was far beyond her grasp.

Zaaro's Fang was not killed by her. Agnese's Fang has been weakened, but still lives.

And you, Vargo.

In the first round of the game, your wolf pup hid all too well. Red couldn't even pick up his scent.

I remember you once told me that this was the most satisfying choice you've made among our countless rounds of games.

Is your wolf pup lying low, waiting for the others to fight to the death so it can jump out of hiding and claim victory?

The wilderness has always been this way, has it not?

*sigh* Vargo, do you really think the others can't see through your disguise?

What if I already know where your wolf pup is hiding?

Every hunter runs into a wolf before they go into the wastes.

The wolf says: Mulberry wood makes sturdy bows, and stones can be sharpened into deadly blades; but you must shed the clothes on you to survive, for it is the only thing that does not belong in the barrens.

No one would believe it.

So the hunter who kept his long coat on... was caught by tree roots protruding into the corner of the coat, ensnared by vines so tightly he could not move until he heard the beasts encircling him.

Another hunter covered himself head-to-toe in armor... was washed away by the river current when the water rushed into the tiny gaps between the metal plates, dragged down into the mud on the riverbed.

Only one hunter took the wolf's advice, and received a gift from it. The wolf tore off its own pelt, and placed it on the hunter.

The fur fit him so well, as if he was born with it. It helped the hunter survive countless dangers unscathed.

The pelt was so smooth and clean. When the hunter left the wilderness, not a speck of blood could be found on it.

And the hunter never took it off—

<p=2>November 1st, 1100 8:10 P.M.</>

Even the hunter's descendants had a custom of wearing clothing so fitting yet comfortable... and slowly, it evolved into the suit you commonly see on Siracusans today.

...Nonno, you've been telling me this story from when I was a baby, and I still don't get it. I've grown up and you're <i>still</i> telling it.

Luchino, I'm nearly done with these two suits. We just need to sew on these buttons.

You accepted this order on your own accord, so we must be meticulous in our work, no matter who the client is.

Go fetch the buttons from the back. You won't miss them, they have the Saluzzo's emblem.

Shouldn't I first bring them to Signorina Lappland for a fitting, and then we adjust the clothes afterward? As you taught me—

It's fine. That Saluzzo signorina doesn't need it, I'll decide if they need any alterations.

But she didn't request to skip the fitting...

I know what's on your mind, boy.

Sometimes our clients request complicated designs, sometimes they don't even have a picture of it in their head, but it's not our place to probe too much.

Remember, Luchino: Tailor de Montano did not gain our reputation purely from our precision tailoring.

People and materials are the same—know them before making any move.

Go get those buttons. It's time to finish this order.

Oh... okay.

Luchino looks at the two beautiful sets of attire. They are completely different to any suit his grandfather has ever made.

A magnum opus to be sure, worthy of the 'Made by de Montano' labels. He just wishes to be a part of that.

Luchino subconsciously pats his pocket. Inside are a few buttons he privately made himself, also engraved with the Saluzzo emblem.