[Volume 2.5 | Chapter 91: A Return to the Capital (III)]

December 31st, 411 E.V.

San Corona surfaced before them like a painting come to life.

Siegfried Eisenberg stepped off the Elysium platform. His boots gave a rhythmic click-clack on the Central Terminal's gleaming floor before finally meeting snow as the full panorama of the Imperial capital revealed itself. The city unfurled across the valley like a sleeping dragon, with white marble structures gleaming beneath the midday sun, spires reaching toward the heavens as if in supplication to gods that had long since abandoned this world.

The first thing he saw was the Grand Canal... the magnificent waterway that normally served as San Corona's primary artery now completely frozen over. Ice stretched from shore to shore, transforming what should have been a busy thoroughfare of gondolas and barges into a vast playground. Children skated across its crystalline surface with laughter carrying on the winter air as they chased each other with snowballs that left trails of sparks in their wake. Traveling and domestic merchants had already set up improvised stalls directly on the ice, selling roasted chestnuts and mulled cider from steaming cauldrons.

"Sweet Convergence, would ya look at that! The entire canal's frozen solid! It's like somethin' straight outta one of them picture books!" Bianca gasped and pressed against the railing for a better view. She whirled toward Pandora, pink hair whipping around her face as she grabbed the lieutenant's arm and squeezed.

"Dora! We absolutely, positively HAVE to go skating! I've never skated on actual ice before! There's never this much snow back home in Solaria, and I bet you'll look like a real-life fairy princess gliding across the surface!"

Pandora's mouth opened, likely to deliver an expedient objection, but no sound emerged. Siegfried noticed with some amusement that her golden eyes had widened slightly, which... probably meant that she was completely caught off guard.

A faint blush colored the ebony girl's cheeks despite the cold.

"I—that's not—we have responsibilities to—" she stammered, straightening her back and attempting to regain her authority. "Private Idrina, need I remind you that we are here on official business?"

Bianca was already fixated on something else. She was bouncing on her toes and pointing toward a row of elaborate storefronts that lined the frozen canal.

"Oh! Oh! They're sellin' Corned Ham! REAL Corned Ham!" She tugged on Pandora's sleeve. "We HAVE to try some! They say the Commercial District has the best in the entire Empire!"

"Bianca, that's hardly a priority—"

"And after that," Bianca continued, utterly undeterred, "we could sneak over to the Noble Quarter! I've heard they have these massive estates with actual dragon statues that breathe steam when it gets cold enough!"

Pandora's face went from flushed to blanched in an instant.

"T-The Noble Quarter?! Are you insane? That's where the Three Ancestral Houses maintain their winter residences! We can't just—that would be like breaking into the Imperial Villa!"

"We wouldn't be breakin' in," Bianca countered with a wink. "Just... admirin' from a closer "vantage" point~"

"Yes! From behind bars or the gallows! No, Bianca—absolutely not!"

"Oh, c'mon! Live a little, Dora! Where's your sense of adventure?"

"It was surgically removed and replaced with common sense, evidently!"

"That explains SO much about you! But, we can't leave all the adventurin' to me alone, can we?"

"Absolutely, we can. It's called delegation. And you can delegate your 'adventuring' to Private Eisenberg."

"Ehhhh?! No way! He'd never go for any of my ideas! Mr. Stick-in-the-Mud would rather sit around and brood all day. I mean, seriously—look at him!"

All throughout this exchange, Siegfried had been silent. His arms remained crossed in a casual display of indifference, his face set in an impassive mask. But beneath that facade, his mind was racing.

I hate this place. I really, really hate this place.

He couldn't help but think of the last time he had seen snow like this... the night when everything had changed. It had been a similar scene then, a winter landscape of pristine white... until the blood had turned it red.

Don't remember! Don't go back there, or—

He felt a familiar tightness in his chest. His migraine stirred again.

"Both of you, enough!" he finally snapped, massaging his temples. "Have you forgotten why we are here? General Vessalius expects us at ze Central Spire by 1:00 PM. If we do not leave now, we will be late."

"But Siiiiiieg—"

"Zat is not my name!"

"—we have a whole half hour! That's basically forever!"

"It would take twenty eight minutes to reach ze Central Spire if we departed zis very instant! Ze city's concentric design means we must pass through multiple security checkpoints!"

Pandora quickly regained herself and nodded firmly. She straightened her uniform jacket and checked that her insignia was properly displayed.

"He's right, Private Idrina. We don't have time for leisure. It's unwise to upset a Vessalius on matters with time."

Bianca's enthusiasm wilted, but only for a moment. Her irrepressible energy bubbled back up as she turned her attention to Siegfried.

"Fine... but you owe us a day out on the town when we're finished, Sieg~!"

"Nein."

"Eh~?! Promise me!"

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"Nein, unedle!"

They moved away from the Grand Canal, entering the central thoroughfares that led toward the imposing silhouette of the Central Spire. It was a type of semi-Gothic architecture borrowed from the Empire's bretheren, the Wallachian Empire. The area created the illusion of weightlessness despite its massive scale, flying buttresses and intricate spires defying gravity through a combination of engineering genius and thaumaturgical reinforcement. The streets grew progressively wider and more ornate as they approached the Central Core, with marble paving replacing the cobblestones of outer districts. Imperial banners snapped in the winter wind, security checkpoints became more frequent, and IPA officers—as well as Knights—scrutinized their identification papers with increasing suspicion.

This was, objectively, the most beautiful and secure city in the world.

Yet Siegfried Eisenberg hated it.

The forced gaiety, the pretense that life in the Empire was anything but a constant struggle for survival and advancement. It made his stomach churn and his migraine intensify.

He preferred the honesty of war. It was ugly, brutal, and merciless—but at least it wasn't a charade. And that's where his thoughts inevitably circled back to the same conclusion every time: he was in the wrong place, trapped in a system he despised while the real horrors lurked beyond the Empire's borders, plotting its downfall.

Once they approached the final security checkpoint before the Central Spire's plaza, Siegfried cast one last glance back at the Grand Canal and the revelers enjoying the Winter Festival. Their carefree laughter seemed almost offensive against the backdrop of a war that continued to rage across distant borders.

If they didn't reach their superior soon, his migraine would become unbearable. He quickened his pace and left Bianca and Pandora to hurry after him.

He hated the snow. He hated this city. He hated everything it represented.

But most of all, he hated how a part of him—buried deep beneath layers of cynicism and resentment—almost envied Bianca's ability to find wonder in a world that had shown him nothing but cruelty.

After navigating a gauntlet of security checks which consisted of retinal scans, prana signature verification, and no fewer than three separate identity confirmations—the trio finally crossed the threshold into the beating heart of Imperial power.

The contrast between the winter wonderland outside and the controlled chaos within was quite jarring.

The grand foyer stretched upward for at least six stories. Dragon motifs were everywhere. Carved into marble columns, emblazoned on banners, and incorporated into the elaborate railing designs of the spiral staircases that wound their way upward. Unlike the provincial capitals where Spires served as the Viceroy's territory, the Central Spire lacked such straightforward purpose. With no Viceroy in Pendragon, the Royal Family themselves fulfilling that role while simultaneously serving as Grand Viceroys of all Tachyon lands, the building functioned as an administrative connection where the Empire's various branches intersected.

And intersect they did. Siegfried had never witnessed such a concentration of authority figures in one place, not even back in his homeland.

Basically, this wasn't a Viceroy's palace.

Legionnaires, IPA Officers, Inquisitors, Magistrates, Knights, administrators, scholars... the place teemed with men and women from every echelon of the Imperial bureaucracy, each wearing the distinct uniform that marked their rank and role.

"Is that—holy shit, that's Cardinal Cornelius!" Bianca whispered, tugging frantically at Pandora's sleeve as a severe-looking man in ornate religious vestments glided past, flanked by attendants. "He's like, one of the most powerful people in the Church!"

"Language," Pandora hissed. "And stop pointing. It's unsightly."

"But—but he was in charge of the Imperial Restoration!"

"I'm aware. Now, compose yourself or I'll have you court-martialed for acting like a peasant in the Central Spire."

Bianca visibly deflated, but her excitement remained palpable.

Siegfried merely observed as he catalogued faces and insignia mechanically. His gaze drifted upward, noting how the upper floors seemed progressively less crowded. The highest levels—visible only as shadowy balconies from their vantage point—were practically deserted. Those rarefied heights were reserved for the Royal Family and their chosen confidants, housing the fabled Address Platform from which Imperial proclamations were delivered to the masses below.

He doubted he'd ever see those lofty realms. He was a dog of war, nothing more, and dogs belonged in the muck, not among the clouds.

A harried-looking administrative marched materialized before them, clipboard clutched against his chest like a shield.

"Lieutenant Kircheisen? Private Eisenberg? Private Idrina? General Vessalius's representative is expecting you. This way, please."

They followed her through the chaos. They weaved between clusters of officials engaged in discussions that would shape the lives of millions. The noise was overwhelming. It was like a cacophony of voices and shuffling papers.

"—Sugoroku forces have withdrawn from the eastern front—"

"—budget allocation for the Hyperion reconstruction efforts—"

"—Cardinal doesn't agree with the Centrum Supremum's position—"

"—three more Crisis Beast sightings near the southern border—"

It was a storm of information, and Siegfried had to consciously focus on putting one foot in front of the other to keep from being swept away by it. Thankfully, there was an elevator to momentarily stop the onslaught.

They exited on the eleventh floor, where the frenzy of the lower levels gave way to an atmosphere of hushed reverence. The hallways here were wider, the ceilings higher, the decor more ostentatious. The crystal chandeliers reflected prismatic light across walls adorned with portraits of historical figures whose contributions had shaped the Empire.

"Wait here. Administrator Ainsworth will be with you shortly," the administrator said before gesturing towards an ornate door.

...Ainsworth?

Then, she disappeared down the hall as swiftly as she'd arrived.

No sooner had she disappeared than the door swung open, revealing a young woman whose presence somehow made the opulent hallway seem suddenly understated.

Marseille Ainsworth stood in the doorway. Her dark indigo hair was woven into a braid that hung over one shoulder, not a single strand daring to escape its assigned position. Accompanying that was her silver-rimmed spectacles, which were currently perched on the bridge of a petite nose. Behind those lenses, her eyes—so similar to Pandora's in narrowness—sparkled intelligently yet still scruntinized them with an intensity that belied her otherwise composed demeanor.

Despite being only nineteen, she moved and spoke like she was twice her age.

The stack of files clutched against her chest seemed an extension of her being rather than mere paperwork.

"Lieutenant Kircheisen, Private Eisenberg, Private Idrina," she greeted them, tone crisp as freshly pressed linen. "I am Marseille Ainsworth, administrative intern and personal attaché to General Hazard Vessalius. General Vessalius has assigned me to process your debriefing documentation and arrange your accommodations for the duration of your stay in San Corona."

Bianca's mouth gaped wide open.

"Ainsworth?! Like, as in THE Ainsworths? Ain't ya related to William Ainsworth? Is he really your brother? The legendary Number One High Inquisitor who can see through ANY lie?"

THWACK.

"Owwwww!"

Pandora had slapped Bianca upside the head without hesitation.

"I offer my deepest apologies for this breach of protocol, Administrator Ainsworth.... Private Idrina's enthusiasm often outpaces her sense of decorum." The ebony girl bowed formally, yanking Bianca by the collar to force her to do the same. "We appreciate any assistance you can provide in facilitating our meeting with our esteemed general."

Siegfried followed suit with a shallower bow.

For a fraction of a second—so brief that anyone less observant than Siegfried might have missed it—Marseille tensed. Her spine straightened incrementally, and her grip on the files tightened until her knuckles whitened, and something flashed behind those silver-rimmed glasses. It was a complicated emotion that vanished before it could fully materialize.

Then, just as quickly, it was gone.

She cleared her throat.

"It's quite alright, Lieutenant. I assure you, I've grown accustomed to such inquiries. And yes, Private Idrina, William Ainsworth is indeed my elder brother. Now, if you would be so kind as to step into my office? We have considerable paperwork to complete before you will be granted clearance to meet with General Vessalius."

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