The crimson Futuliev, a sleek car that spoke of power, sped us deep into the heart of Himel's First Wall District. This once-familiar sprawl, the crown jewel of my reign, had changed. We had passed through the Third Wall, a sea of modern apartments, then the Second Wall, bustling with hotels, restaurants, workplaces, and shops brimming with history's treasures. Now, in the First Wall, the buildings retained their familiar forms, yet gleamed with renewed grandeur. The very roads, once a simple expanse of granite, had been meticulously remoulded into the same as other districts, divided in two roads leading opposite ends. Only the pavements remained unchanged, a touchstone to my memories. Even passing the old northern gates, where I once charged towards a swirling portal, sparked a fleeting vision of that bygone era. Now it turned quiet, questions began to form inside my mind.

And here I was, far from the regal gowns or fine plates, a brown wool coat graced my whole figure, all the while marching—or rather trotting towards the Solheim Palace. Tight trousers dressed my legs lithe. Ankle-length black boots muffled my steps, perfect for stealth. Ayako mirrored my attire, her coat a stark black, whilst Ana wore a slick woolly, usual for her time of leisure. Though a blood of Lithplia, warranted to my utter heed, flowed through her veins, privileges and influences were now naught to this day and age.

“Last time I was here,” I said. “People were horrified by such a thing that they had witnessed.”

“What phenomenon, gal?” asked Ana.

“A portal, which ought to be a gate to our peril… then to my blessings coming true, too,” I chuckled… out of dismay, perhaps?

“The same portal she’d been brought here,” added Ayako. “We know.”

“Yes, now I am finally back here… just way ahead to their passing life.”

“Oh,” Ana moaned and paused, her mouth wide. “... How’s granny Drea at that time?”

“She was already heading out towards Hansch—Fosse—for her House’s succession ritual.”

“I see,” Ana frowned. “Only to end up being a bloody… battle royale there, as per your speculation.”

“But Lady Drea’s words about it sounded genuine to me.”

“Well, if you’d only believe,” she paused once again, then moaned, her finger snapped a spark of sudden thought. “Wait wait wait wait…,”

“Wait what?”

“I remember… something…”

“If you mean forgetting something you’re supposed to bring, then it’s too—” said Ayako.

“No,” Ana interrupted with her voice raised, her hand gesturing behind. “There’s… a book or something?”

“What book?” I asked. “A memoir?”

“Grimoire… and a memoir, too, if my memory serves me well.”

“Back in your home? At the Keep?”

“Yes, but only it’s a rumour. Something about ‘Pear du sang’, or was it ‘Fear does song’? Gah… I can’t say it right.”

“How about your brother?”

“Neither,” Ana shook his head. “ He only cares about his… ‘biological shenanigans’. Something about caring so much about every corpse he gathered. Graceful corpses.”

“Not surprised,” mumbled Ayako. “For a bloody necrophile, he may be.”

“And he's saying it like some sort of passionate nerd collecting these so-called ‘mechas’ or something.”

“That’s certainly telling.”

Thinking about it, House Lithplia bore tales of soul conjurors like Kurin the Deviant. In the once-haunted town of Hansch, Kurin had banished ancient darkness with a fleshly ritual. A sacrifice, they whispered, but the details remained shrouded. Only a jesting hearsay of ‘soothing every rod of their soul’ whispered across my memory.

Ana, with her potential, could walk a similar path. But it was her brother, Polo, who seemed consumed by a morbid ambition. His fascination with the deceased… It unnerved me. The way he lingered over their still forms, his touch… rough, almost a caress. My mind twisted. How on earth was I imagining this bloody wildness?

Not a spell, but a solution, Polo's voice echoed in my head, a dark whisper I would not dare breathe to Ana. Ayako's words, branding his pronouncements as nonsense, still stung. But a sliver of doubt lingered. Was there more to Polo's ramblings than I dared admit?

“Here we are,” said Ana, slowing the Futuliev. Shoulder-to-shoulder throngs lined the pavements, their gazes locked on the stream of cars, altogether carrying us towards Solheim Palace. Most wore smiles, some genuine, others unsettling. A few even waved our own Sun banner, though its background was replaced with a chilling crimson. But not all joined the display. Scattered individuals stood out, their middle fingers extended in a vulgar gesture, tongues thrust out in a juvenile insult.

“How fervent they seem,” I said.

“I’m not sure if I can take that as a compliment, to be frank,” replied Ayako, frowning.

“Why say so?”

“You’ll see once you walk inside the palace.”

“Right.”

The Futuliev rolled to a gentle halt before the imposing palace gates. A lone knight, clad in a sleek coat and wielding a weapon that dwarfed even our Futuliev, stood firm, hand outstretched. Ana, ever composed, reached beside the steering wheel and pressed a disc. With a hiss, the car windows descended, revealing our faces to the watchful guard.

"Good evening, sir," Ana greeted, her voice steady. "I'm here to deliver these gals to the palace."

The knight's gaze flickered between Ayako and me before a curt nod prompted the other guard to swing open the gate. The massive doors hummed as they parted, revealing a glimpse of the palace grounds beyond.

“Time to visit your royal home, eh?” said Ana to me, glancing behind with a smile.

I sighed, “But never returning to my own throne.”

“Relax, they’re only keeping it as a tourist spot anyway.”

“Still…”

The Futuliev glided into the heart of the courtyard. The Solheim Palace remained unchanged, save for the crimson-painted Sun banner hanging prominently over the walls. Columns of knights stood guard at the border between pavement and road, their arms wielding short, compact rifles instead of the long halberds of old. Passing through them felt proud… yet eerie to my taste.

Reaching the grand stairways before the double doors, Ana tapped another disc, and all the doors whooshed open with a lofty sigh. We stepped out of the crimson car, and a faint wistful pang hit me. Images of Duke Frank and Ulrich flooded my mind, a bittersweet ache for a simpler time. How I longed to return to the days of my rightful age.

“Well, have fun with a would-be dumpster fire then,” said Ana, winking at us.

“Shut up and leave already,” fumed Ayako, rolling her eyes.

“Adios, then,” Ana waved us a farewell, then had all doors closed and drove back outside the palace.

Ayako faced me and said, “You know the drill, right?”

“As I have known this place rather well,” I nodded.

“Good,” Ayako whispered. “ Stroll around as much as you can, and steal words that might connect to Liu Sheng or any Weian things.”

“Yes, I have your word.”

Turning behind, we ascended the stairs, steel doors etched with the Sun emblem greeting us at the top. A silver curtain shimmered, flanked by columns of silent knights who stretched all the way down to the base of the stairs. It was a grand entrance, yet a chilling one—a home seeming no home. With my inherent knowledge, I took the lead, pushing open the doors and stepping into the hall within.

Myriad changes of feel inside was nothing short of astonishing. Gone were the rough concrete floors and wooden railings. In their place, smooth marble gleamed beneath our feet, and sleek gold railings shimmered along the edges. The once-ornate walls, adorned with portraits that honoured my lineage, were now sleek and black, adorned with pellucid screens that flickered with moving pictures and typing words. Stark contrast, indeed—the familiar warmth of a old hall replaced by the cold sterility of a neoteric one

“Frankly,” I said, gazing around every nook and cranny. “I do not know if I feel amazed… or scorned about this.”

“There’s no need to awe right now,” replied Ayako, glancing at her wrist piece. “Time’s running short now.”

“Then let us proceed to—”

“I’m afraid you’d need no service,” a woman's voice cut in from above. Startled, I looked up to find a pale woman with striking hair, a cascade of gold shifting to white at the tips. Her face mirrored closer to my older sister. She leaned against the railing, a sly smile playing on her lips that sent a shiver down my spine. An unsettling doubt gnawed at me, though I could not seek the reason for it.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“An interesting question,” she replied, all the while descending from the stairs, then patted my shoulder and whispered. “Haven’t you done your homework thoroughly?”

“Huh?”

“Well,” a golden-white-haired woman broadened her smirk briefly, then spun away from me, her eyes averting whilst looking above. “It kinda pains me that I, who have been appearing in front of the media almost everyday, wasn’t able to please your familiarity a bit.”

“And who might you be?” I asked. Meanwhile, Ayako rubbed the back of her neck and shook her head, upset over my… void knowledge of her?

“Why, it’s none other than Adel… Adel Blesceap, the UAF’s State Secretary,” she then bowed solemnly like a gentle knight. “At your humble service.”

“Right… and my name is Janie,” I bowed back.

Adel glanced at Ayako, “And your name is Ayako, one of the IL bodyguards, no mistake.”

Ayako nodded silently.

“And if I am not mistaken,” I said. “You were the one doing the letters, right?”

“Why, of course, shall you thank me for that? After all, you’re Janie, daughter of our beloved Head Security, Sir Tyler Stockton.”

“Right, and speaking of Sir Tyler—my father, do you know where he is?”

“He’s waiting for you at the audience’s seat. Come along then,” Adel nodded, then turned behind and proceeded up into the hall. “I don't want to leave my dear guest to rot in idleness.”

I glanced at Ayako, then she said, “I've got to go now, gotta do my duties. We’ll see you later after the forum.”

“See you then.”

After Ayako and I parted ways, I trailed beside Adel as we were heading to the Court of Heart, the site of the forum. The last time I was there, I had met with five envoys, each a voice for a different shire. Now, however, my once-absolute power over the motherland has been replaced by something called a "Federation." Adel, as far as I could tell, was one of the high-ranking officials within this neoteric system, overseeing internal matters.

“So how have you been?” asked Adel.

“Doing fine and well,” I replied, gazing around the halls so new and unfamiliar. Flickering screens stretched almost everywhere, from walls to ceiling. “This place is quite… spectacular.”

“It’s all thanks to the futuristic endeavours. People worked hard to build the Solheim Palace in this way to let their voice be heard by force of circumstance. Numbers of computer and electrical engineers alike proposed such an idea, then implemented this way according to their plan. Thus, it became a reality like this. Every place you see right now is everything the motherland must know.”

“The current events?”

“Yes, everything around here is whatever that’s happening around the world. When the chairman needs to take a stroll outside his office, he can either enjoy his precious sightseeing or grieve over bad news that might come. In other words, this place is designed to be both heaven and hell for would-be kings and queens alike.”

“I see. Not really a pleasant experience if I were to rule, to be frank.”

“Fret not,” she giggled. “You won’t get a taste of it anyway.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Nothing. Just a dull joke I’ve come up with.”

“Right,” I paused, frankly wondering over my cold feet of doubt on her. A knot tightened in my gut at the mere sight of her. Her walk, a steady thrum, and her movements, smooth yet eerie, churned. What could it be? Perhaps I envied her tender charm? So I asked. “How long have you served the motherland as one of the… heads?”

“I couldn’t count years of having my hands full, to be frank. Though, you may ask other people how long I’ve been serving the motherland. Pardon me for being dubious to your taste, for I’m more of a… moment person than a time person.”

“Right, I can see that.”

“But, truth be told, I’m quite passionate about looking forward to such hope—a hope that may kill hopes sparing no hope.”

Her words were a tangled web, bewildering or worse, a chilling threat to my inquisitive mind. She spoke of "hopes”, thrice, her voice a chilling melody that danced between jest and severity. It all felt utterly absurd, as if the very word "hope" had been twisted in her mind.

“What do—”

“What hope, you may ask?” she interrupted, her smile slowly broadening. “.... That only when time favoured it.”

“Right,” I rolled my eyes, her pretence began to bother me. “May Gidden bear witness to the coming times.”

“She will,” she said, her soft giggles slowly escaping her lips. “Insanda, the Lady may never forsake your prayers.”

“Least, I found a truly faithful person,” I sighed.

“Indeed, such dire times never abate my… love and faith for Her.”

Silence loomed, our sauntering steps continued my dazzling sight. Passing through the floor I once bade Julie and Nadette, a chasm of memories opened before me. Glancing through the window where the swirling portal once hung, the echoes of past regrets still whispered nightmares. Adel watched, a sly smile playing on her lips. A cold wind snaked across my skin, threatening my unforthcoming grit.

The Court of Heart door loomed before us. There came the balcony where I once held court, wielded power, and heard the pleas of our motherland. Now, these steps led me to the lowly seats reserved for envoys. Gone was the crown on my head and power in my hand, but now resided with the 'chairman’, as Adel had proclaimed.

Hundreds of envoys thronged the seats behind the long, curvy desks, a murmur of hushed talks filling the air. Some pored over their scribed chests, whilst others exchanged glances. The scene mirrored the tense anticipation before a hearing's call. As Adel wove through the crowd, some offered solemn bows, whilst others cast fleeting glances before averting. Unfazed, she continued forward. This, after all, was the political heart of the motherland, a place where decorum mattered, but so did seeking through twisted mist.

Adel ushered me to the side box seats, where the audience paid their earnest heed to the ongoing forum—the Himel Forum. All eyes turned towards us as we approached. A man of about fifty rose from his seat. His neatly cropped hair and clean-shaven face sat atop a form that rivalled a young knight's—even surpassing the build of my esteemed generals in their youth.

“Good evening, Ma’am Secretary,” he bowed, his familiar cold voice intrigued my memory. “I appreciate your minor effort in escorting her.”

“No worries, Sir Tyler. Surely, it’ll be more pleasant to see your beloved daughter’s face after all these years with no presence,” Adel turned her glance towards me and smiled. “Especially how you’re engaged in recent politics.”

“Right,” I nodded.

“Now, I must intervene in your father-daughter reunion no longer,” she turned around, then giggled. “For I shall return to my most essential duty in this very event.”

Adel left us, alone with Tyler and I. Her unfathomable cold air no longer threatened my skin, but looking at Tyler, another came back, but quite less intimidating. Gladdened, I heaved a sigh of relief and said, “She has such a face of some Idilian.”

“What? Aren’t you afraid of ghosts?” asked Tyler with a faint smirk.

“Not the Holy Ghost,” I cried, flushing red over a sudden thought of shame and fear. “Well, Insanda, I must say. I humbly feared the Holy Ghost, but never the dark ones.”

“Such words of a brave hallow,” he chuckled. “Hallow of Grit, aight?”

“A title that took only twelve days for me to hail my laud?” I shook my head and scoffed. “Thank the fate of the heavens.”

“Only to leave your son in royal urgency?”

“Wait… what did you say?”

“Huh?”

“My son… in royal urgency?”

“.... That’s my gut feeling,” he shrugged. “Besides, I know the fact that he's the only living child at that time.”

“Uh-huh, and do you know—”

A sudden gesture. Tyler hovered his hand before my chest, his gaze flicking towards the stage. I followed his line of sight to find a grey-bearded man, cloaked in black, ascending the steps. He reached the podium, grasped the gavel, and brought it down three times with a resounding boom.

“Orde—ugh,” said a grey-bearded man, hemming. “Order! May the Court demand silence and commence the forum!”

His booming voice silenced the room. Envoys scurried or ambled back to their seats, all eyes fixed on the figure at the front. The audience rose as one, so did the envoys' buttocks. Two figures in black coats and gleaming steel helmets marched purposefully towards the stage, their steps echoing as they lifted the Sun flag—a token of motherland’s pride, even a crimson paint on its back. Tyler's hand, a gentle nudge, guided me to the vacant seat beside him.

“Quiet, ‘dear’,” he whispered. “Show’s about to begin.”