act46side

The empty silence leaves one feeling colder than ever. The reporter's heavy bag slows her down, her footsteps upon the snow clear for all to hear.

Less people than before, even here...

...Hmm?

Miss! Sorry to bother you, can I ask you a few quick questions?

About?

Right now, Karlan Trade—

I'd rather not have to hear that name.

Sir Enciodes needs to come out and go over why he signed those agreements already.

'Resources for development', what rubbish. All we got for our resources was a Catastrophe. How's he going to explain that, huh?

By the time the reporter finishes digesting the lady's angry words, she has already long-since left with a swish of her cloak.

...Excuse me, sir!

Ah, you're one of those reporters from Victoria?

Kjerag's not been the kindest place, lately. Even us locals prefer holing up at home. You best take care.

It's times like these where I can't be afraid, otherwise I'm not fit to hold this camera.

...But thanks for the heads-up, anyhow. What I'd like to know is, how do you see Enciodes right now, in your honest opinion?

Hmm... Sorry, Miss, I think he's cheated Kjerag, but Victoria's worth doubting too.

I've seen how big the changes here have been these past few years. If you said Enciodes hasn't had any difficulty making those changes, then I'd say you're wrong.

If only the Great Elder of the Court could come out and say a few words, it'd all be fine—

A stone flies right past the tip of the reporter's nose all of a sudden, smashing the store window behind her.

Eek—!

Get out of Kjerag, Victorian scum!

Enciodes, the Vine-Bead Court, us, we've all got nothing to do with you!

Still got the stones to take pictures?! Get the <i>faen</i> off our land already!

Nothing has left her with complicated feelings more than this moment.

She has seen the ordinary people of Kjerag slowly become more mistrustful, more on-edge.

Yet she has also seen once-trusted members of the camera crew sneak into her room to inspect her drafts and camera, over and over.

As the man picks up yet another stone, she bows goodbye to her interviewee, and runs away from the scene...

It seems her only choice is to escape... but escape to where?

Are you Victorian, miss?

Ah... Hello there.

Do... you hate Victoria?

Nope, I don't.

A dirty little hand reaches out to her, with a piece of stale Victorian bread sitting in the palm.

But my pappa told me to throw these all away. He said we wouldn't have any Victorian charity in our house.

Then...

But Kjeragandr taught us to love our neighbors, and repay kindness with kindness.

So, I wanted to give it back to you.

As she watches the child hurry away, the reporter feels as if the dry bread in her hand is choking her throat. Her eyelids tremble, and she clenches her teeth...

Get her in the car. Don't let anyone see.

That is the last thing she remembers hearing before she loses consciousness.

Sorry for bothering you with yet another visit, Mr. Silverash.

Perhaps you would rather be seeing some other pretty face during all this hubbub...

There is no need to be so humble.

Kjerag is indebted to you for your care, and I had hoped for the chance to express my gratitude.

Hardly, hardly... It seems my long-awaited return has left me awash with churning emotion once more.

I would like nothing more than to be the bearer of good news every time I come over, before throwing my old bones into the mountains for some peace and quiet.

But life is a fickle thing, and it demands we improvise, does it not?

I do believe you are here to give me some bad news, Lord Viscount, but not in the name of Caster.

Hmph, I'd rather not get mixed up with that old lady's affairs again.

Though based on what went on the last time I was here... It's her who doesn't want to get mixed up with me.

With all that said, My Lord...

Ah, yes, on to business, I know you're a busy man.

I am here to bid you farewell, Mr. Silverash.

If the recent shift in public opinion against Victoria has troubled you, then I can—

No, no, no, nothing of the sort...

...I had hoped against hope that old Caster was also reaching the age where she spoke from the heart.

That tends to bring a bit of sweetness to the tongue, no? But as you can see, things have come to this.

Though I may seem a dotard these days, I still find myself compelled to ask you one thing...

Is there truly no other way?

You know her plans involve more than just a few mines, My Lord.

From the moment she laid hands on Ensia, this negotiation has become wholly unacceptable to me.

So how do you plan to handle her? Are you really prepared to cross swords with her?

You know better than I that if we do not keep the idea of 'crossing swords' on the table, then Kjerag may as well already be in her pocket.

Of course I do...

*sigh* What to say, what to say...

Knowing how the old lady is, she will never let your little tiff go now that it's reached this stage.

I truly am worried for you, Sir Enciodes. Whatever shall you do next?

What is there to do but to seize the opportunity?

Since you have mentioned her, you are also an old acquaintance of Her Grace, are you not?

Me?

Hardly know her.

A few years back, we'd chat about family matters, and she'd always grumble to me about how none of the young Casters were worth a damn.

The less useful they turn out to be, the more hasty she gets in doing things. Who would have guessed that she was known as a complete enigma in her youth...

I had a brief encounter with Her Grace a decade or so ago. Her grandeur strikes me even now.

Hah, no need to butter her up to me.

I am fully aware that her high-and-mighty noble posturing is something she can never change.

No matter how many schemes are brewing behind the scenes, one must always keep one's face haughty and dignified.

Well, that's that. I'm sure your people have more urgent things to trouble you with. I should be heading off right about now.

This talk of ours has been productive, My Lord.

I hope I will have a more suitable opportunity in the future to invite you to Kjerag.

Haha, couldn't ask for better!

Ah, yes...

(Quietly) When you next see Her Grace, by no means tell her I've been calling her 'old' behind her back.

...I would never, Lord Viscount.

Atta boy.

I too, am really looking forward to the chance to visit Kjerag again.

Yes, nobody saw us.

It was no trouble, Matriarch. Your request is my—

I'll bring her over right away.

Hey, wakey-wakey!

...I...This is... I was at—

Half a day's sleep not enough for you? Get up, our Matriarch has things she wants to ask you.

What...?

Who... brought me here...?

Hmph. How long will it take you to learn a gentle touch?

I-I'm sorry.

Matriarch.

Hey, you awake yet?

No thrashing about, unless you feel like the ropes around your wrists aren't chafing enough.

Ah, Ratatos!