level_act29side_st01

Rain and wind come hand in hand with evening in Kreis Sturmland. After generations of keepers, a house spire's decrepit stairwells will always hide moss somewhere in their cracks, no matter how the casters work to keep them clean.

He thinks of Zwillingstürme. Of the time when the black spire reminiscent of twisted horns had yet to be superseded by the newly erected twin spires, when the majestic city was called by a different name.

Of the dazzling auburn alleys in autumn, the kind he'd cross through in his youth, still sans wand or dagger. Nestled in his hands were but a few bound poetry collections, and precious hopes of freedom.

Not so anymore. Though the storm briefly abates, the spire's peak is still ruinously cold. Moonlight stabs through the drapery like rain, like a nail driven through each and every hope as it springs up.

What a shame, he laments.

Never again will he see the marigold in bloom.

Northern border of Leithanien, in Fels, the capital of Kreis Sturmland, 1100

Marvelous, truly marvelous!

A performance of such fluency, as if the moonlight were caressing my cheeks—Herr Erich, what are your thoughts?

Martha, why do you treat me so?

Why speak of her? It's not as if your ex-fiancée were here, Herr Erich.

The callousness in your features stings my heart deep, yet your beauty takes my breath away all the same. Such that I cannot forget—

I strongly suggest you move your hands away from my waist. People are watching.

A-Apologies! Did the piece end already? I hadn't even realized.

I don't know why, but just now it was as if I'd been transported back to last autumn. To the day my Martha left me. The sorrow crushed my chest.

As I always say, take more walks. Concerts like this may well be rare in Sturmland, but Zwillingstürme is a different story.

*sigh* Sadly, I may not make it to Das Kaiserinnensfest this year.

As I recall, meine Herr, you've a distant uncle with a seat at the Kurfürstenhof. Could it be you've heard something? I know that Kurfürst Werner—

No, nothing reliable at least.

But the Kurfürst has hardly left his spire once these past months. Even the doctor rarely attends him anymore, while visits from casters serving other houses have only grown more frequent.

It would seem almost none of us will be venturing outside of Sturmland these days. Das Kaiserinnensfest may come every year, but an audience with the new Lehnsherr? Who would dare miss that?

I wouldn't dream of it. No offense, but I'd prefer to spend my dreams with my lovely Martha instead.

Thank goodness we have Frau Arturia Giallo.

Only her cello can grant me a brief reprieve from the pressures of the day. A welcome breath of fresh air.

Quite right. A pity that today will be her final concert here.

Then let me be drunk on it for a while more, just a while. After all, the storm is nigh again.

What are you standing around for?

Did the steward not explain your duties? You're to return to the cellar immediately once dinner is served. Don't disturb the Kurfürst while he's resting.

The stern chastisement falls on deaf ears.

The servant walks off in a stupor. Down the steps and through the door, like a shell stripped of her soul, she ambles toward the cracking thunder outside.

Hold it.

Is that...

blood on your hands?

Is the Kurfürst...

Guards, quickly!

*sigh* When will this weather make up its mind? If this keeps up, my firewood'll be damp again, and I just put it away.

Henk, could you start the fire already?! How long could it possibly take when the back garden is right there? Did you forget your wand again—

...May I have an extra candle, sir?

Of course, Frau Droste. Will you be waiting here for someone again, like yesterday?

Ja.

The wind's especially strong tonight. You might want to go upstairs; it'll be warmer in there.

It's fine. I haven't been back in so long, but... my body's still accustomed to the weather here.

Hahah, I just about forgot you're from Sturmland yourself.

I saw an article about you in the paper a few years back, and I must say it caught me off guard. And here I thought I would recognize every young'un raised in these parts.

It's not surprising you don't remember me. I'm just an ordinary person. I always have been.

Careful now, modesty kills.

I even thought the article might've been poppycock until you strolled through the door of my shop. You have the poise and grace of a blueblood from up in the spires.

I appreciate what you've done for me over the last two days, Herr Müller. Especially...

Don't you worry now, I won't tell a soul you're here. I know the media's been hounding you even after your retirement.

Look on the bright side. You're in Leithanien again: they only ever headline nobles and their big affairs.

...I suppose.

But look at me, keeping you to myself again. Here's your candle. What else will you be needing?

Might you... have any more books you could lend me?

You got through that novel already? I'll check the cupboard, anything you'd like to read next? I've got... two illustrated guides, a historical fiction, and five or so poetry anthologies.

I'm thinking you'd prefer the poems? Kurfürst Werner runs this folk poetry society, and all these poets like to turn up as special guests. Or so I hear.

No, I'll have the historical fiction, please.

After returning, I don't think I could stand any more poetry for a while.

Righty-o. Take this one, then, and don't worry about returning it anytime soon. I'll leave you be now.

Henk, Henk—you little Lausbub, I know you're lazing about somewhere!

...<i>Die Glut</i>. Embers...

It's an interesting tale. Though... it doesn't bear much resemblance to actual history.

Ah, I didn't notice there were other customers. Guten Abend.

It certainly is a good evening.

May I ask your name...?

Cora. Cora Löwenstein.

So I take it you've read this novel, Frau Löwenstein?

Regretfully, I've only been to the opera adapted from it. By the time it was published, I'd lost my ability to enjoy literature.

Ah, your eyes... I apologize. That was tactless of me.

Oh, you get used to it after twenty or so years. Besides, it saves money on candles and firewood on nights like these. Do you mind if I sit a little nearer?

By all means.

What warm candleflame.

Did it start raining out there? Your clothes are damp.

I forgot to take my umbrella, what with the rush I was in.

Pardon me if I'm mistaken, but did you come here to meet me?

All these years, and business here is still sluggish.

Or no, I suppose... <i>everything</i> in Sturmland is the same as ever. We're far from the capital, Catastrophes keep coming, and the weather here lives up to its name. Outside of special occasions, we hardly ever see many out-of-towners.

I still remember the view from this spot by the window. You can see the nomadic plate with the Kurfürst's parlor spire, can't you? He should've picked somewhere more out of the way for you.

So it was him who sent you...

Hold my hand. Tight.

Hm?

Listen closely.

I hear people... many of them, hiding outside in the gales.

You can control the candleflame by your hand, right Viviana?

I can.

Then on my mark, please—

Let's 'extinguish.'

The instant the candlelight dims, the grocer's windows shatter into pieces.

The rainstorm outside pours in alongside assorted Arts energy covering a full spectrum of effects.

Viviana grips Cora's hand, struck with the sense that she's sitting on a skiff in the heart of a raging sea.

Wave after wave of Arts crash down on them, all but blowing the humble storefront to smithereens, yet precisely parting to leave the two of them unscathed.

Footsteps clack within the shop.

They can't tell where we are; they have to approach to feel us out. Can you sense their positions?

...Crystal clear. Let me handle this.

Candleflame leaps anew from Viviana's palm.

The shadows come to life, reaching their limbs through the ruins and spreading across the rubble to pin the looming casters in place.

...Seven, eight.

Nine.

We're safe for now.

You saved my life.

You handled the brunt of it. All I did was 'tune' their Arts a little.

Now, let's get away from here before more assassins come calling.

Who were they?

People here to meet you, like me.

Will Herr Müller and Henk be in danger?

Our old gentleman's in the back garden—he avoided this attack. My colleague will get him to safety shortly.

As for Herr Assistent... he's the one who called them. He should've known that dealing in shady business like this would earn him more than a handful of Originium ingots.

I... honestly don't see how I'm any sort of worthwhile target.

I'll explain in a moment. For the time being, Viviana...

Could you let me take a proper 'look' at you?

You mean...

The woman's beautiful face may be unfamiliar to her, but her voice and expression are anything but. Viviana finds herself unable to decline.

Cora lifts her hands, and feels about for Viviana's cheeks, her fingers tracing a few soft strokes once they alight. Her movements are infinitely tender, the sort one would use for handling the most precious instrument.

And as if in response, tears well up in her lusterless eyes.

You resemble your mother so much.

If only Werner could see you now, how joyous he would've been. So close, too... He spent so long struggling in his sickbed, just to see you one last time.

Werner... My father?

Did he...

I'm so sorry, Viviana.

Not long ago, your father... Sturmland-Kurfürst Werner... passed away in his spire.

And that was how it transpired, meine Herr. We were all in our places keeping watch. Nobody expected the assassin to infiltrate the Kurfürst's room.

The assassin. You mean to say, the Kurfürst's personal attendant?

Ja, meine Herr.

She had been employed in this spire for more than half her life.

The Kurfürst trusted her implicitly, as did we all. Yet without a doubt, she was the last to see him alive.

Did anyone else enter the room after the incident?

Only the personal bodyguard and the doctor.

Did anyone at all step outside?

Nein, not one of us set foot outside the parlor spire this evening.

We still haven't identified who among us is to blame, so we've locked all the servants in the basement cells for now. Shall I show you the way?

No need. I've already met with them.

Did you question the assassin?

Having been under the effects of psychological Arts, she has no recollection of her whereabouts.

We should try torturing her. Otherwise, it's near-impossible to determine if she's lying.

Well then. Are <i>you</i> lying?

Me? Nein, meine Herr, how could I? I've been loyal to the Hochberg family for over a decade! Everything I have I owe to Kurfürst Werner!

Then... would you swear that upon the Güldenesgesatz?

Güldenesgesatz... The Golden Movement...

H-How would I dare deceive a Gesatzswächter!

You left the spire after what happened in there.

You have the smell of rainwater on you. The hem of your clothes has brushed against the moss in the cracks of the steps outside.

Ten years is nothing. You don't yet know House Hochberg's spire well enough, just as you didn't know Kurfürst Werner well enough.

The Kurfürst... He summoned you here...

The Kurfürst picked up on your disloyalty. You began stirring into action once he fell ill.

I only regret that Frau Löwenstein and I were ultimately one step behind.

Send notice to the Concertmaster that the Gesatzswächter's found that—

Earrgh—!

It is futile to resist the melody's fetters. Much like your wisdom, your Arts are ugly and brittle.

Where did you send that thing?

Gakhakha—ggh!

Answer me, remnant.

Z... Zwillingstü...

Is your 'Concertmaster' the one who used psychological Arts to influence the attendant? Are they also in Zwillingstürme?

The Concert... master...

No, my head... MY HEAD!

The Golden Melody now resounds in the deepest parts of your soul.

Any intent to disobey, and your mind will collapse beneath its weight.

Gesatzswächter...

With such absolute power, why must you serve as a thrall to the Twin Puppets?!

It is not <i>my</i> melody that restrains you, nor the decree of the Kaiserinnen.

What you are failing to resist is the will of Leithanien herself.

The will of... Leithanien?

Hah... hahah! Since when did the present-day Leithanien... have even a fraction of the will she should?

The Genesis Horn... The might of the great Herkunftshorn will come to enshroud this land anew!

GKHAAAAAAAAGHH!

The feeble sound that death plays. A caster that can seize such cries over such a long distance is no ordinary remnant.

...The Concertmaster.

Frau, the ride for Zwillingstürme is here. Are we leaving right now?

Yes. Let's go.

The friend who invited me here has just taken the curtain call. I've played every piece I needed to.

There's no reason to linger here any longer.

Somehow, without realizing... I'd been staying here all this time...

Martha, my dear Martha... Oh, it's like I'm dreaming. How long would I have to wait to hear such a remarkable performance again?

I've told you people, you are not to disturb me whenever I'm attending a con—

What? Wait, what did you say?

I'll be back posthaste. Get my ride ready. I need to see a few friends.

And one more thing—I want the wood carving I bought in Kreis Lupukarn, as well as the Victorian porcelain I keep in the study. Bring them both.

<i>Why such haste? Was the Kurfürst not alive and well this morning?</i>

The days to come will be arduous once more. Oh, Arturia... Only your music and your beauty can deliver me from this nightmare.

The sheer effort I went to just to arrive at her interim abode, only to find she'd already...

Please continue.

C-Continue? Who are you? And what's that you're holding? A wand or a—

You mentioned an intent to visit Arturia. I assume you have some relation to her.

I am currently searching for her. Therefore, I require any and all pertinent leads.

You're looking for Frau Giallo too? Are you some fanatic follower of hers?

Follower? That is a highly inaccurate description.

Per the tenets of the law, and on special assignment by the Curia, I must apprehend the fugitive and repatriate her to Laterano.

F-Fugitive? Frau Giallo is a guest of the Kurfürst, and no matter the rumors from outside... No, I find <i>you</i> far more suspicious!

Herr Erich! Are you still well?

They put the alley under lockdown out there; Gendarmerie all over. I hear even a Gesatzswächter went over to the Kurfürst's parlor spire.

Danke, I'm well enough. I was just about to visit a few Grafen and see what word I could pick off the grapevine. *sigh* How uncanny can one night get? Damn my indolent chauffeur—where is he?!

At least one small stroke of fortune is that Frau Giallo has already safely departed for Zwillingstürme.

Wait, where did that eerie Sankta get off to?

...The fugitive Arturia is no longer here.

Executor Federico, continuing pursuit of target.

Destination: Zwillingstürme, capital of Leithanien.

It's time we got going too, Viviana.

They'll announce that the Kurfürst passed from illness. It's understandable. A white lie to keep the domain in order.

I won't be able to attend the funeral, will I?

I'm so sorry. You never even got to see him one last time after you rushed back from Kazimierz and everything. And now you can't even go to...

...Mourn him.

I'm not even sure I have the right to anyway.

I scarcely remember how he looked. In all these years, all the word 'father' meant to me was just the letters he sent to Kazimierz.

And yet I can't help but think that even the letters themselves might well have been written by a retainer in his stead.

Your father never once forgot about you.

Mm... So everyone tells me, including himself.

And I'm willing to believe it.

But as I read that last letter, I still hesitated. I didn't know if I should... No, if I <i>wanted</i> to come back.

You have a tender heart, Viviana. I can't imagine you'd ever decline a dying man's last wish.

Or perhaps... it was the spire I wanted to see one last time.

Just to see if it still towered over the clouds, like I remembered.

You can't go back there. At least, not for now.

For your own safety, we shouldn't remain in Sturmland for long.

Were the ones who took his life and the casters who came for me last night... sent by the same people?

Not necessarily. With Werner gone, anyone that knows who you are has reason enough to make a move against you.

You're your father's sole descendant. In times this turbulent, neither his enemies, nor his former vassals, nor anyone else potentially in line to succeed him will just leave you be.

Then what about you? Why are <i>you</i> protecting me?

Think, and you might still recall, child. Thirteen years ago, upon your mother's passing, I was the one who took you to the Grand Knight Territory.

Then you're... the Imperial Orchestra of Leithanien's...

Instrument tuner. Quite a convenient role.

The Reichsorchester's visit symbolized the friendly ties between Leithanien and Kazimierz. No one would think to question a child with an instrument among them.

So you've saved my life... more than once.

It was your father who wanted to, more than anyone.

Some months ago, Werner realized his days were waning, and he worried that after he left us, you'd be dragged down as a sacrifice in the power struggle.

Your role in this is <i>unique.</i> Whether you chose to return to Leithanien or stay in Kazimierz, the waves would have reached you regardless.

He had no choice but to turn to me and Brandt. He hoped that as old friends of his, we could bring you safely to Zwillingstürme.

There, you'll be under the protection of the Kaiserinnen.

Protection... of the Empresses?

Ja. That's what Werner wanted for you.

Viviana von Hochberg—

In the name of your family, you are to serve as an Empresses' Voice.

Central Leithanien, Kreis Einwald, in a town on the outskirts of Zwillingstürme, not far from the city gate

*huff*... *pant*... I need sleep. Verdammt! Why am I on duty again?

Those spry young wretches, always clocking out early. What excuse did they have today, a new movie? Some underground live show?

The moment the month rolls over, I'll see that I get a word in with the Baron, to speed up my transfer to Zwillingstürme...

Hey, you there!

What are you doing, loitering here this late?

<i>I am taking my regular walk.</i>

To my knowledge, there have been no new decrees forbidding law-abiding citizens like myself from rambling the wilds past midnight.

...Well, you're not wrong.

Just another bored youth going for a walk. Why was I getting so nervous?

...Am I free to go now? I appreciate your concern.

Go on, be on your— Wait.

Why do I get the feeling... I've seen you somewhere before?

You could be mistaken. After all, you did just tell me that strolling nighttime youths are as common as anything.

Where are you from? By your accent, I'm guessing the Urtica Grafschaft?

I was born there... in the countryside.

Countryside? What kind of country bumpkin talks like that? Stop being ridiculous.

No... Now that you mention it, I've never heard <i>any</i> commoner pronounce things the way you do. Say, you wouldn't happen to be the runaway son of some small-time noble, would you?

Let me check your ID.

If you're fantasizing about gaining the favor of some aristocrat for returning me, then you will be sorely disappointed.

...Has anyone ever told you that the way you talk could seriously piss people off?

ID. Now.

Pardon, pardon, I've got my boy's passport right here. Do peruse.

And who are you?

Come on, you don't remember me? I live in the city. That second-hand bookshop guy.

Speaking of which, the books aren't quite flying off the shelves, and lately I've been thinking, what about a cafe instead? You must be awfully tired this late on patrol, no? Here, here, try my coffee. My own brew.

...*sip*.

*choke*... Mein Gott, the taste... I'd forget about that cafe if I were you, for your own sake.

Haha, as long as it wakes you up. So are you done with the passport?

...Ebenholz. That's your full name?

Ja.

His parents just <i>love</i> the piano. The keys, especially—it was between Ebenholz or Elfenbein.

Well, whatever, be on your way. You think they pay me enough to question a kid's legal name? And yes, give me all the disgusting swill you've got left, I'll need it.

If you'd known you'd be back so soon, would you have not burned your passport?

I regret nothing.

If you must know, I naturally assumed that whenever you people wanted me back, you'd simply print a second one. Or as many as you need.

...So why <i>did</i> you come back?

For the hundreds of thousands of residents of the Urtica Grafschaft. Over a hundred retainers in the spire alone. I'm not so far gone in my selfishness that I'd sacrifice them all for my so-called freedom.

Which means you can stop it with the jokes, my dear spy. Or did Their Majesties send you to try me again? See if maybe I'll pour my heart out and wait on them hand and foot?

With Das Kaiserinnensfest approaching, Zwillingstürme has been restless lately.

Heh... And of course I still have that thing in my head.

I know better than any of you that the performance of this ludicrously grating piece is far from over.

Listen to me, meine Herr. My mission ends here.

Once you head into Zwillingstürme, someone else will pick you up.

Maybe you've already realized this, but you had two correspondence. One ordering you to come to the capital, and the other granting you your official 'death.' But it wasn't the same Majesty that wrote both.

Compared to the first's benevolence, the other...

Ebenholz doesn't even let Biegler finish before walking off.

Just before disappearing around the corner for good, the young man waves ta-ta to him.

So you knew.

Former Graf Urtica, are you hoping for... a true death this time?

*huff*... I'm getting sentimental now, in all this miserable gray weather.

May you...

No, never mind.

If people like us still have a shred of luck to spare—

—Then let's pray we never have to meet again.