215. Aria's Arrival: Third Day of The Festival

The morning tide rolled against the coastal walls, its rhythm steady, the sea was painted gold and crimson by the rising sun, the horizon a split canvas of light and shadow. Two massive silhouettes drifted closer with the dawn: sleek vessels bearing the unmistakable banners of the Imperial Merchant Association, their crimson-and-gold insignia snapping sharply against the wind.

“We approved entry for two magic ships from the mainland,” Alice reported crisply, standing at Ravenna’s side. Her spectacles glinted as she tracked the incoming vessels, the scroll of authorization tucked neatly under her arm.

Ravenna lifted the binoculars to her eyes, her lips curling slightly at the familiar sight of the ships cutting through the waves. “Aria is on one of them.”

Alice nodded, finishing the thought for her as if reading from the same page. “Yes. Lady Aria Morgen and also Earl Taylor Hessman, officially attending the festival to ‘seek strategic business opportunities.’” Her tone carried a dry edge.

Ravenna lowered the lenses with a soft chuckle. “The official reason, of course. Maintaining neutrality as representative of the Merchant Association.”

“A predictable game,” Hughes muttered, his arms crossed as the wind tugged at his cloak. He looked down at Alice with the faintest teasing smile. “Any other unexpected guests, wife?”

Alice returned the smile, softening for a moment in a rare display of warmth that tugged at the edges of her normally sharp demeanor. “There is one,” she admitted, though the gleam behind her glasses was less fond now. “One that might be… a concern.”

Ravenna turned her head, her dark hair fluttering like a raven’s wing in the wind. Her deep black eyes narrowed in curiosity. “Who?”

Alice inhaled, then spoke the name with care. “The Knight Eugene.”

The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the crash of waves below. Hughes shifted his weight, his jaw tightening, but he said nothing, waiting for Ravenna’s reaction.

At last, Ravenna smirked, her expression sharpening into the predatory grace that made her both feared and adored. “Eugene?” She let the name roll off her tongue, her tone rich with amusement and a hint of admiration. “So he is finally back to the mainland huh..”

Her eyes glinted with a mix of calculation and mischief. “No doubt he is here to meet the Saintess. As I promised, And meet her, he shall.”

She turned back toward the sea, her smirk widening as the ships drew nearer. The rising sun cast her silhouette in long shadows across the stone walls, like a raven poised above the waves, ready to swoop.

Southern Port, Kim City, Kim Dukedom, Ancorna Empire

The southern port was alive in a way Aria Morgen had never seen in her life. The heat of the Kim Desert was unrelenting, even in the middle of winter: the air shimmering faintly above the sand-streaked streets as though the sun itself wished to remind all that this land was its domain. Sweat clung to the brows of her knights even beneath light cloaks, and Aria had to pull at her collar for breath despite the thin fabric of her travel dress.

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Yet for all the discomfort of the climate, the city that sprawled before her was nothing short of miraculous.

Where she had expected a rugged trade outpost of wooden homes and shabby fishing huts, there now rose tall Romanesque-style buildings, their arched domes and sweeping columns casting cool shadows over the plazas. Entire blocks of apartments and merchant halls had been raised from what looked like stone and steel. The sheer fact that such structures stood in this sweltering desert made Aria’s breath catch. “How in the Goddess’s name did she achieve this here?”

And the marvels did not end there.

Stone-paved boulevards cut wide through the city like the veins of a thriving organism, each one lined with tall glass-paned lamps fueled by refined oil. The light they gave was clean, bright, and uniform, not the uneven flicker of torches. A network of aqueducts and steel pipes snaked through the district, drawing fresh water from the elevated tanks and distributing it to fountains, public baths, houses and public taps. Aria even glimpsed at the massive iron water tower rising above a market square, its frame reinforced with steel beams, shimmering with condensation against the desert heat.

Her eyes caught movement along the rails laid into the streets, A beast made of steel: an experimental tram, small and stubby, but pulling a carriage of cheering children as if to flaunt its power. Steam hissed from its pipe, and the tracks gleamed like a promise of a future no one else in the Empire had yet imagined.

And all around her, the people.

The culture was… jarring. Even as she marveled at stone and steel, her gaze caught dancers in translucent silks swaying on a raised dais, their bodies painted in glistening dyes that left little to the imagination. Men and women laughed openly as they embraced in public, some kissing without shame against a fountain’s spray. A troupe of “indulgence artisans” walked boldly down the street, dressed in ribbons more than robes, waving to festival-goers to join them in “company”. Aria’s cheeks heated, and she clutched at the white armband Ravenna had provided her: a symbol that she was Solious-faithful, exempt from partaking in such traditions.

Even so, the city thrummed with energy. Its people were not beaten down or cowed. They were vibrant, alive, thriving amidst heat and indulgence both.

“It’s as if the desert itself blooms under her hand,” Aria whispered, watching a boy offer a garland of flowers to a passing priestess.

Her knight captain gave her a sidelong glance. “Or burns,” he muttered uneasily as a group of new converts, freshly baptized, exited the Herptian Church in little more than sheer robes, still damp from ritual baths. They laughed together, kissing, embracing, as petals rained down upon them from the balconies above.

Aria’s hand tightened on her armband. “This is her highness’s dukedom. Be respectful.” Yet she could not deny her flush as her gaze flicked away.

The city’s knight escort led them deeper into the heart of Kim City. Every street, every corner bore the mark of Ravenna’s touch: a city planned, not stumbled into. The plaza before the Herptian Church bore wide shaded colonnades, protecting festival-goers from the punishing sun. Newly built factories with tall smokestacks rose in the background, their steady plumes a reminder of industry, while vendors sold luxuries once impossible in such a barren land: ice chilled drinks, fried fish caught from the northern port, even bread baked in ovens powered by oil.

By the time Aria’s carriage crossed the castle gates, her head was spinning from all she had seen.

The castle itself had been remade: no longer a crumbling desert stronghold, but a citadel reinforced with steel beams, its towers crowned with ballistae and banners snapping proudly in the desert wind. Within its walls, the courtyards bloomed with flowers imported from far and wide for the festival, a rainbow of blossoms that seemed to laugh in the face of the desert heat.

And then, at last from walking in the castle, the doors opened to Ravenna’s study.

The Duchess of Kim lounged at her desk, draped in midnight silks that shimmered faintly with every shift of her body. A goblet of liquor rested by her hand, untouched, and her deep dark eyes gleamed like molten glass as she looked up.

A slow smile curled across her lips, sharp and mocking, but not without warmth.

“Aria Morgen,” Ravenna purred, rising from her seat with feline grace. “Cousin. Welcome to Kim City. You’ve come just in time… to witness a new change to the world’s balance.”