The brilliant glow emanating from the towering structures cast an almost magical light on the bustling streets. Flitting carriages zipped past, their riders a blur of colour. Green-eyed wayfarers hurried along, some adorned in flamboyant clothing, others shying away from the watchful gazes. All, however, adhered to a common thread – bulky leathers shielding them from the biting cold. I, on the other hand, had grown accustomed to the chill, forged through my arduous yet rewarding trek across the icy fields of Norsia.

Ayako, shrouded in an aura of mystery, adjusted her dark-tinted spectacles. A crimson scarf, the colour of a dying sun, snaked around her neck, and a long, dark coat flowed dramatically behind her like a phantom's cloak. Her look, a compelling blend of fascinating and foreboding, hinted at a woman capable of wielding power with a flick of her wrist, sweeping anyone who dared to question her aside.

“What do you think of the city?” asked Ayako. “I assume you’re greatly mesmerised as to how time has changed so fast.”

“Worth a thousand words, yet I shall say naught,” I anqueathed. “And for a thousand years further, everything seems… beyond fathomable.”

“Hmph, thanks to your long history of commercial reception, this nation has become one of the powerhouses among others.”

“Powerhouses?”

“You know, possessing a lot of capital. GDPs… GNPs… or generally, a grand wealth… albeit, a more complex than your own version. And also the military power here is one of the most powerful. Jets, tanks, weapons… and even magics, they’re advanced to these things.”

“I see,” I smiled. “Indeed, the motherland still remains strong… despite the changes of its name.”

“And Solheim ‘hoff’ that you’re talking about, it’s still there. Though, it’s mainly used as an office for the Grand Chancellor, and he’s not someone originally from the Beortcild family.”

“Oh, now thou speak of it,” I patted her shoulder, stopping our stroll. I tried myself to stifle a slight frown, yet her eyes noticed it. “Have thou known of any afterbears?”

“Afterbears? You mean, descendants?.... Like children of your child… children of your children.”

I nodded silently, whither she continued, “Well, Since the Beortcild family had already faded from view following the civil war, I assume some of them relocated to somewhere else and had their surnames altered or not. Right now, they either worship in their divine name or just don't care and go about their daily lives. Besides, in the IL organisation, we got three notable figures who are Beortcild in name—namely Monica, Tyler… a-and Zak.”

“What about the civil war? When did it happen?”

Whilst we were proceeding forth, she answered, “Around the twentieth century… wherein the disputes between the aristocrats and the lower-class people had gone violent, basically. The very first reason why your so-called ‘motherland’ has become like this…. Long story, though, so you better ask a tour guide there in the museum for more details. That’s where we head next.”

“Why art we heading there?”

“Well, we gotta ask that savvy old man if there are any sources regarding this… purple glimmering stone… you’re talking about.”

* * *

A familiar pang struck me as we approached a weathered edifice, its very stones whispering of a bygone era. The grand entrance, adorned with a sweeping staircase, had once been the heart of the city's bustling adventurer's guild. I recalled the throngs of valiant adventurers gathering there, seeking fame and camaraderie on its steps. Their lively meetings, now just cherished memories, echoed in the halls that had been transformed. The Great Guild Hall of Adventurers was no more; in its place stood the Himel Museum, a treasure trove of history.

“This is the place,” ascertained Ayako.

“Indeed…”

“What? Do you feel nostalgic about it? Judging by how antique this building is, well… I can see that this place has reached your era, too. Quite impressive for being well-preserved.”

An unnatural quiet descended upon us as we neared the imposing double doors. The silence seemed to press down on Ayako, coiling around her thoughts and prompting a wary glint in her eyes. With a measured hand, she reached for the handle, the click of the lock echoing in the stillness. The door creaked open, and Ayako, hand instinctively dropping to her holstered weapon, swept the interior with a vigilant gaze.

“Keep low, Emi,” she murmured. “This place has gone awfully quiet.”

“What? I art a knightess. How art I supposed to—”

“KEEP. YOUR. MOUTH. SHUT,” she murmured aloud, but this time, her narrow glares and swinging hand directed at me, then sighed after I silently nodded. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Casting and gripping the hilt of my blade, I followed Ayako through the doorway, leaving it hanging open with a reckless abandon. Unease gnawed at me. Their methods of combat were foreign, and the potential dangers unknown. Yet, I held unwavering faith in Ayako's skills. Though I braced myself for her disapproval of my impulsive actions, a silent vow formed within me – to repay her trust in kind.

The vast hall was eerily silent, yet the air crackled with a symphony of whispers, phantoms of forgotten times. They brushed against my senses, but no longer held the power to terrify. Ascending the grand staircase, we were drawn towards a warm glow beckoning from above.

With each step, however, my armoured boots echoed a jarring counterpoint to the hushed atmosphere. Ayako shot a withering glance over her shoulder, her gaze lingering on my metalclad form. A sigh escaped her lips as her eyes landed on a glint of metal. “Seems you haven’t tried stealth before.”

The rowny light grew stronger as we ascended, beckoning us ever upwards. But our ascent was abruptly halted at an open doorway. A metallic tang, sharp and undeniable, pricked at our senses. Ayako's hand instinctively reached for her weapon, her eyes narrowing. With bated breath, I inched closer, the floorboards groaning faintly under my weight. Peering through the doorway, a single word escaped my lips, “Blood.”

Our hearts pounded in our chests, yet we steeled ourselves to uncover the truth that lay behind this ghastly scene.

“No fucking way,” moaned Ayako, then rushed into the room and somehow lit it thoroughly, all the while that she drew an aghast gape upon her face. “D-Doctor Oliver?”

“What is it?” I asked, then approached Ayako and followed her sight. There, I witnessed an entire bloody tragedy done to an old man impaled above us… by a javelin. “H-How on bloody damned hell have I witnessed?”

“Shit,” Ayako clicked her tongue and touched on her blue-bright timepiece, then tapped on a piece in her right ear. “Dispatch! We found a dead victim impaled on the wall here… at Administrator’s office inside Himel Museum”

“What art thou doing?”

“Calling the police here. They’ll be here soon,” said Ayako. Whilst glancing around the chamber, she found something intriguing at the open steel chest beneath the desk—a peculiar pellucid book filled with written parchments. Then she took it and read, only to drop her jaw and gasp from ferly. “Looks like he’d done a dirty job from behind a curtain.”

“What is it?”

She flipped through pages, “Receipts on sale of some royal antiques… treasures… artefacts from the museum. All for filling up some cash into his own pocket.”

“Selling treasures? Is it not legal to sell such things?”

“Yes, it’s illegal to sell them, especially since they are properties owned by the state itself,” she paused, in shock over what she saw next. “And get this, a receipt for money transfers from Doctor Oliver to... Mister Brian Fergurson?”

“Who’s Mister… Brian… Fergurson?”

Before giving me an answer, she looked at her glowing armbigh and tapped on it, with its vibrant yet seethrough text and portrait shinecraft coming to light. “He’s a finance manager of the XL company, a private arms manufacturer. They’re known to sponsor a variety of weapons to multiple PMCs or any wanted organisations, whether domestic or foreign. Seems like we got the first suspect in this case.”

“Oh,” I raised my brow. Though I tried to comprehend what she said, a grasp of it bided nothing, but learning of new words. “I see.”

With a thud, Ayako slammed the heavy clear-bound book shut and tossed it onto the desk. Her frustration crackled in the air as she turned back to the steel chest, her movements sharp and urgent. She rummaged through the contents, her brow furrowed in concentration. But her frantic search yielded nothing. Finally, she straightened, her shoulders slumped in defeat. A grimace twisted her features as she met my gaze, a silent acknowledgment of our dead end. The elusive "purple glimmering stone" remained frustratingly out of reach.

“There’s nothing important,” she heaved an exasperated sigh and fixed her eyes upon the clear book. “Everything, but that clearbook, has somehow been discarded.”

“Perhaps the killer forgot to do something with that… so-called ‘clearbook’?”

“No,” she shook her head and rubbed her chin. “Maybe that killer tries to shift our blame game towards Brian Fergurson and everyone else in the XL company.”

“Indeed, shifting… blame game.”

Speaking of shifting, her eyes returned to the lifeless body of Doctor Oliver, or rather fixated upon the javelin that had ruthlessly impaled his chest, sealing his fate, “Besides, the culprit’s certainly not an ordinary man. Whoever did this must’ve possessed such strength and power to do so. And in regards to that clearbook he had left, he’s either trying to trick us… or send us a message…. No, I’m thinking both may be reasonable.”

“Truly worth a bad tidings, aye?”

She nodded and took a clear book, placing it inside the pocket of her coat from within, “Still, since the collection of receipts here involve some international scandal, I must keep and give them only to the IL. The police here aren't viable to be trusted, so you best not tell them about it. Got it?”

“Oh,” I raised my brow and asked, “What is the meaning of… police?”

“Basically, guard patrols,” she anqueathed. “Albeit they’re more diligent to do their duty and succeed in catching criminals rather than the ones from your era, especially they have detectives to solve crimes as thoroughly as they can. But they aren’t as viable as the IL-SSIA since they only serve under the UAF… even though UAF is one of the major subordinates of IL.”

“I… see.”

She crimped her lips and crossed her arms, then said, “Be honest, do you really understand everything I said? I know you came from a thousand years past, but this era has long evolved into something far more complicated than yours.”

"Indeed," I nodded. "The police are more diligent and methodical than mere patrolling. The clearbook, containing significant information, is left by the... killer to shift the blame upon us. It is illegal to sell antiques that are owned by the... so-called ‘state’. And IL... SS...IA... what were they again?"

“International League… Special Secret Intelligence Agency.”

“Oh, so that is why you keep the clearbook from the police. I see… ‘secret intelligence’, indeed.”

“And the IL is more superior than the UAF government itself, so keep that in mind as always.”

“U… A.. F… what were they again?”

She sighed, “Goodness, it's the United Arian Federation… your current motherland’s national name. Got that?”

“United… Arian… Federation.”

“Good, then we must wait for the police to arrive and keep our profile intact.”

* * *

Lost in time, a hollow ache gnawed at me. Frank, Ulrich, Nadette... my family, my world, all a million miles away. How do I get back to them?

I slumped onto the museum steps, my gaze drifting to the red-and-blue lanterns swaying hypnotically in the evening breeze. As I watched, a throb of pain erupted in my head, blurring the edges of my vision. Stepping back inside, I scanned the Himel Museum's grand hall. In my mind's eye, I saw phantoms of adventurers past – boisterous laughter echoing through the chamber as they celebrated their triumphs. Now, an eerie silence reigned, broken only by the hushed movements of sapphire-clad figures meticulously scouring the walls.

Suddenly, a cart emerged from the museum's depths. Draped in a shroud of black cloth, it held the lifeless form of Doctor Oliver. A pair of attendants navigated the steps, followed by a young man clad in a vibrant red suit. He lifted his hood, revealing a shock of crimson hair... a familiar shade. Our eyes locked. A smile bloomed on his face, and he raised a hand in greeting.

I hesitantly returned the gesture, whetting him to dash towards me. Yet, upon a closer look, his mismatched eyes, one a striking blue and the other an unnerving black, gleaming with curiosity.

"Excuse me," he began, his voice surprisingly warm, "but by some extraordinary chance... are you Emilia of Sileland, the Kinhallow of Grit?"

“Oh… aye,” I nodded. “Coasern Emilia von Beortcild, how may I be of service to thee?”

“Such archaic words… dialects,” the young man then solemnly bowed his head and said. “O, Your Majesty of yore, my name is Polo Lithplia, a simple coroner of the UAF police force.”

"Lithplia!" The word echoed in my mind, a missing piece of the puzzle snapping into place. His crimson hair, his otherworldly beauty – it all pointed to Lithplian ancestry. A bloodline stretching back generations, perhaps even beyond my own time. Figures like Kurin and Drea, I recalled, held positions of nobility. Yet, Polo, it seemed, carved a different path. Here he stood before me, this ‘simple coroner of the UAF police force’, as he called it.

“O-Oh, I thank thee. Though, thou must need no thewfastness to show before my being, hour at this era so far from mine.”

“No,” he shook his head. “I must act upon my manner before You as a sign of respect for my noble blood.”

“I see. Then mark my words that thou shall not exercise a formal act from this day forth, for thou art serving the rich and the folk not under my rule.”

He chuckled, then walked past me whilst waving his hand back, “Understandable, my golden lady. I shall never need to be formal in front of you ever again.”

Hearing that inexpiable word of ‘lady’ before my ears, I turned my head behind and cried, “Hey, who on earth didst thou say?”

“What?” he stopped and turned his head behind, his one eyebrow raised higher than the other. “What's caused this sudden bewilderment, milady?”

I gasped, glaring over his sudden address, “Not again… thou shall not dare to put the Lady’s name in vain.”

“Oh,” he paused, then soon squinted his eyes and drew a slight smirk. “So it’s true then.”

“What dost thou mean to be ‘true’?” I asked, yet he ignored me whilst proceeding his duty. “Anqueath me!”

Meanwhile, Ayako appeared behind me and heaved an exasperated sigh, “Acting like some grumpy granny who lives between two noisy neighbours again?”

“‘Grumpy granny?” I answered. “Truth be told, I have so many asks for me to afrain around folk’s ware way at this very time, so mind thee to—”

Then in the blink of an eye, Ayako dashed towards me and pulled my ear, as if she treated me like her disobedient whoreson, “Bloody wag, you’re in the world thousand years later. Can’t you be a bit courteous?

“A-Aww,” I groaned from the pain. “B-But must thou do that unto my ear like that?”

“Know your place, or else I won’t stop doing this to you.”

Ayako's grip on my ear loosened, and she shoved me back with a gentle force. I jerked my head around to face her, my eyes flashing with a brew of frustration and simmering anger. I understood her reasons, but the man's vile words about the Lady still echoed in my ears. Fury bubbled within me, threatening to erupt. My hand instinctively reached for the chain securing my elegant single braid, a silent promise of retaliation held back only by the calming presence of Ayako.

“Besides, you shouldn’t bother or be bothered by that guy,” continued Ayako, still her eyes biding cold and calm, yet quite overawing at the same time. “He's been known to taunt several of his students and subordinates about corpses. Terrifying, I know but he’s still quite conscientious about his responsibilities.”

“I see,” I gasped, trying to soothe my brittle anger. “But for him to be one of the afterbears of my sworn sister—”

“No matter, as time changed, so did people,” she interrupted with a loud sigh of exasperation. “Besides, have you rebelled against your father and mother once?”

“Oh.”

Ayako's questions sparked a sense of wonder, a feeling that echoed times long gone. It reminded me of childhood, of my father's commands confining me within the castle walls, where I devoured fantastical tales and ancient histories. His dream for me was a gilded cage – a powerful witch forever bound to the castle chambers. But oh, how I yearned to break free, to breathe the untamed air of the world beyond.

Fate, however, had other plans. The Silerreich's greatest scholar, a beacon of wisdom, championed my desire for adventure, recognizing the potential within me despite the dangers that lurked. My father's disapproval remained a constant shadow, even on his deathbed. Yet, against his worries, I carved my own path. I vanquished Norsian raiders and rose to the throne as Coasern, a warrior queen revered not just for my prowess but for my unwavering spirit.

All this, fueled by a faith that transcended the limits of my own body.

Now, my thoughts drifted to my beloved son, Ulrich. I wondered how he carried our legacy, if his journey mirrored my own triumphs.

“Guess the generation gap never stops," she continued, shrugging her shoulders. "A blood may flow through time of flesh, but a soul wanders here known and beyond the unknown.”

Her words hung in the air, leaving me momentarily stunned... or perhaps struggling to grasp the concept.

Then, a rumble erupted from my stomach, a blatant reminder of my needs. An itch to appease it arose, but my armour made reaching for a comforting pat near impossible. Ayako must have noticed my predicament, because she offered, "Dinner, perhaps? Or should I say, a more delicate... nighttime supper in my living quarters?"

A chuckle escaped me at her attempt to adapt to my time period. "Delighted," I replied.