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*cough* *cough* I pray!

I pray that the sick people in Faber Central Hospital get better!

I pray that Papà, Mamma, and my sister will always be safe, healthy, and happy!

I pray that the Lord will always be with us!

I pray that the spiritual light will always shine on Laterano!

'I thought the experiment was over, Lemuel.'

'Didn't you hear? The investigators came to school today to tell us our results. They even brought fruit tarts!'

'The two patient groups at Faber Central Hospital were discharged today... basically, their recovery had nothing to do with our praying the past two months.'

'The investigators told us not to be sad. It was all a social experiment by the Sixth Tribunal.'

If prayer doesn't help—

Why do we pray?

Another report from Nuova Volsinii.

Over the past six months, they have established trade with seventeen nomadic cities, like a direswine that never rests.

In the process, they have sown new seeds across all Siracusa.

It sounds like you approve of Nuova Volsinii's interactions with other cities, but do not intend to endorse their promotion of the New Urban Management Act.

You were the one who told me the youth need to be tested further, after you returned from Carnevale.

I suppose I recall something to that effect.

News from Terni. Unusual movement in Lupukarn.

The Golden Empress has been actively issuing edicts, while her counterpart has not been seen in public for a long time... our neighbor seems eager to change. Desperate, even.

Not just Leithanien. There are more than enough new sprouts upon this land. The matters of the famiglie should not occupy any more of Siracusa's time.

Mm-hm.

You seem ready to fall asleep.

It's almost time for my siesta.

Do you like this fabric?

I can have a suit made for you. I have just the tailor in mind.

Hah. I appreciate the offer, but there's no need.

Still prefer your cassock?

I am a priest, Sicilia.

But there is no church in this city. It's been almost seventy years since you left Laterano, hasn't it?

Sixty-eight. The Sankta sense of self is as persistent as our sweet tooth.

But you've never thought about going back. You have no need to. The walls are still white, the people still happy. Nothing ever changes in Paradise.

Otherwise, you wouldn't have come with me to Siracusa.

I'm not so sure...

Oh?

My hand's been trembling every time I grip my patron firearm. Maybe my old house in the Holy City has sprung a leak.

We're relics of a bygone age, Sicilia. You know how old people have hunches about certain things.

*Yawn*—

You should take a nap on the sofa.

Maybe we can find another setting to talk, once the down payment for this fabric has been made.

Sorry, sorry.

Zzz...

Father? You didn't just fall asleep on your feet, did you? Father! Are you alright?!

Urryyyyy—

What? Is that all?

Tila. Is the boss alright?

Why do you ask?

These are all documents that he reviewed. The only thing Legal changed was the formatting. He shouldn't need to spend so much time with them, should he?

I think Mr. Cliff is looking at that letter.

The letter from the frontier? What was the name on it again? Woodrow?

But there were only four words in it. 'Am well. Take care.' That's it.

I've heard a couple things about Davistown...

What are you getting at?

This ship will be approaching Max D.C. in twelve hours' time. How long have we been planning our entry into the capital market?

There're still a lot of problems to solve. Look at the people behind me. All our top ranks are waiting for the boss's orders!

But at a time like this, he's all tied up with his... his—I don't even know what to call him!

Mr. Cliff went to meet a certain Mr. Jackson before we set out.

Th-The Vice President?

Do you mean to say the boss has gotten the official nod to our cooperation with the companies in DC—

Don't get too excited.

No employee of Blacksteel Worldwide should doubt 'Clip' Cliff. Anything you don't think of, he will; anything you can't figure out, he will.

He was the one who put this team together, and he was the one who spread firearms beyond the walls of Laterano.

He was the one who expanded our business across the frontier, and beyond Columbia.

Mr. Cliff is a great leader, and a remarkable Sankta.

I agree completely, but... have you seen the look on his face? What could those four words have done to him?

Ladies and gentlemen—

What? Did the power go out?

Did some stupid merc knock something over? Or did Engineering cross the wrong wires?

Good news!

The wildfire's finally extinguished.

The bad news is that half the hillside has been burned away—

Woody? Are you okay? Are you hurt?

*cough* *cough* I'm fine... it's nothing.

He just came back from the woods to the west, where the worst of the fires were. He braved the flames to clear a control line.

He might have forgotten his age...

Can't let the fire take it all, not when things are finally looking up in these parts—I'm fine, I really am...

That's good to hear. I was worried.

Say, Woody, do you want to look at this?

That's thick. Some kind of important document?

It's from Blacksteel.

You're not gonna open it, Woody?

No, I don't think I want to.

What if it's a whole stack of gold certificates? Would go a long way to filling the gap the fires left behind.

Well then, YOU open it.

Gladly.

Well, Mr. Cliff sure can write a letter. It's so long the end is touching the ground.

What's the matter, Woody?

I... suddenly have a headache.

Is it the letter, or your wounds?

Were you waiting long?

Mister Ezell!

Happy Birthday, Cecelia!

This cake...

I, er, made it out of sweet potato.

I couldn't find cream or confetti sugar, so I sprinkled some dried vegetables on top of it. I tried to find the ones that had better colors...

Sorry, I did my best... 'slaves' don't have access to the nicest things. Galena helped out.

It's lovely!

Make a wish, Cecelia... well, I can guess what you'll wish for. Don't worry, I've been asking around. We'll find your father.

Yeah!

But my wish today is—I want to blow out the candles with you.

Huh?