Day of Argentum, 19 September 744 After Discovery.
Florence entered Lucien's room, carrying bread and warm tea on a bright morning. However, it seemed that the morning's bright light would soon be covered again by the smoke from the capital's factories.
"Here, drink this while it's warm." Florence placed the tea and bread on the table beside Lucien's bed.
"Thank you, Aunt Flo." Lucien looked at his aunt with a gentle smile. On his lap, covered by a blanket, the thick book "Stairs to Miracle" lay open, which he had been reading again.
"What chapter are you on?" Florence asked, then turned to tidy up Lucien's cluttered workbench.
"I just finished chapter seven" he replied. He pulled the silk ribbon attached to the top of the book's binding, tucked it into the middle of the open pages, and then closed it slowly.
"Ahh, The Eastern Part of the Eastern Continent," Florence smiled faintly. Her hands were still busy tidying up Lucien's books and alchemy tools, moving with organized motions.
"What do you think, Aunt Flo?" He turned his head toward Florence's back with a curious tone.
"Who knows? Our hypothesis is that we have only discovered 20 to 30 percent of the Eastern Continent. Oh, and Leon also came by two days ago while you were unconscious," her hands organized the books and alchemy tools until the workbench was neatly arranged.
"Leon is back?" He asked, sounding surprised.
"Yes," Florence replied. She turned her body back to face Lucien, a look of excitement on her face. She looked as if she was about to walk toward the door.
"He said that while exploring the northern part of the Eastern Continent, they found something bizarre, and he doesn't seem to remember it, as if there was a 'limitation' that covered his memory like a fog," she continued. She walked slowly, her fingers touching the wooden surface with a distant gaze, clearly fascinated by the mystery.
Concealment…. the term appeared in Lucien's head.
"And also, I've read about it previously in printed scientific journals by a Tharnheim scientist named Konstantin Ivanovich Pavlov, and in several old shipping records. In the Caótico Ocean, or the Western Ocean, there is a storm that seems to never cease, limiting voyages toward the western part of the world, and the absence of islands in that ocean makes it difficult to force a voyage," Florence added, glancing at the calendar while tapping her fingers lightly on the table.
"Therefore, exploration of the Eastern Continent is very important. Besides researching the vitality of chaotic resources that we have never seen here—which should open the way for advancements we have not yet known—this is the only theoretical way for us to know what is actually on the east of that continent—a mystery that we might never be able to reach from the west," Florence added, letting her voice hang softly in the air as she turned and looked at Lucien from behind her round glasses with a glance of curiosity she could not hide.
"I am curious about what is there, but it seems too dangerous, Aunt Flo," Lucien said with a facial expression showing he truly did not want to go near danger.
"What do you mean?" Florence asked. She approached Lucien slowly and raised one of her eyebrows.
"You are Phase Two now; you are now capable of exploring the entire world, Lucien," she continued, stopping in her tracks with an expression that was smiling but with a serious face and a joking tone.
"I don't think so, Aunt Flo," Lucien replied, furrowing his brows and shaking his head.
"Haha, once you graduate from university, we will both explore the world!" Florence exclaimed enthusiastically, folding her arms across her chest with eyes sparkling with joy.
"No, I don't want to," he answered quickly. He leaned back against the pillows and pulled the blanket up to cover half his face, jokingly putting on a frightened expression.
"Yes, you would, it will be very fun!" Florence chuckled, and so did Lucien. Florence's laughter finally broke out seeing her nephew's acting that was not convincing at all.
Lucien looked at his aunt, catching something that had escaped his attention until now. Under the exposure of the morning light piercing through the window gaps, thin purplish shadows framed the bottom of Florence's eyes. Florence's face, which was usually elegant, now also showed lines of fatigue that she could not hide. Lucien knew that Florence had just gone through two sleepless nights to watch over him.
"Aunt Flo… You have to rest," Lucien said softly, his tone now completely serious and full of concern.
Florence was silent for a moment, chuckling softly while wiping the corner of her eyes, which were slightly teary. She let out a long sigh and gave a soft smile, even though she was filled with fatigue.
"Thank you, dear. I will," she replied softly, smoothing a few strands of hair that had come loose.
"Don't forget to finish your bread and warm tea," she continued with a final warm smile before turning toward the door. She opened the knob of Lucien's bedroom door and then stepped out.
"Sure," Lucien replied softly with a warm smile on his face.
After the door closed tightly, he enjoyed his breakfast. He reached for the book again, letting himself be carried away in the pages of Mourish script.
More than an hour passed like smoke from factory chimneys that began to billow outside, slowly coating the air of the capital and eroding the brightness of the morning sun. The silence of his room was suddenly disturbed when Lucien heard scratching from behind his bedroom door, which surely was Lumi, who was trying to enter.
"Lumi? Is that you?" Lucien called softly, leaning his body toward the door with a hushed whisper.
"MEOW! Meow! Meow!" the voice from behind the door replied, sounding somewhat muffled by the thick wood.
"I can't open the door, Lumi. I'm sorry..." He mumbled, chuckling quietly, imagining his cat's demanding face.
"Meow… meow…." The purring sound of nagging returned, this time softer and pleading.
"Are you hungry?" He asked again, his eyes glancing worriedly toward the bedroom door that was still tightly closed.
"MEOW! MEOW!" Lumi replied loudly, now accompanied by clawing that was becoming more impatient.
"Okay, okay, wait," He responded in a low voice. Realizing that Lumi's shrieking could wake Florence, who had just rested, Lucien decided to take action. He uncovered his blanket, letting the cool air touch him.
Slowly, he turned his body and lowered his feet until they touched the cold wooden floor. Lucien rested both hands on the edge of the bed, gathering focus before letting out a short sigh and forcing his knees, which still felt weak, to stand.
"Ugh," He groaned softly.
A floating sensation and slight dizziness stabbed his head when he reached a standing position. Lucien stopped for a moment, closing his eyes tightly while holding the edge of the table beside his bed until his body was balanced again. Once that dizzy feeling subsided, he took a deep breath, and he started to reach for his workbench and began to walk slowly. Lumi's voice could still be heard meowing from outside.
"I'm coming," he called softly. He walked along his bedroom floor, his hand, which had just passed the workbench, immediately reached for the wall, and finally reached the knob of his bedroom door. He turned it slowly and gradually pulled the door open.
A ball of thick white snow-like fur immediately snuck in through the narrow gap of the door, rubbing its warm body against Lucien's ankles with loud purring.
"Heyy," Lucien whispered. A happy smile was etched on his face as he saw the ball of fur near his feet.
"Meow!" Lumi replied softly, tilting its head and looking at Lucien with its sparkling round blue eyes.
"Aunt Flo is asleep, lower your voice," Lucien whispered again. He stepped out of the room, turned around, and closed his bedroom door.
"Come on, let's go downstairs," he continued. He walked slowly and slightly stiffly down the upstairs corridor with Lumi accompanying his slow footsteps. He descended the wooden stairs one by one, carefully maintaining his footing, which was not yet fully stable.
His footsteps brought Lucien to the base of the stairs. The room was filled with dull, dim silver light coming in through the window. He headed to the small kitchen in the corner of the room slowly.
Lumi, who was already impatient, immediately passed Lucien, running toward the corner of the kitchen near the storage cabinet. The cat meowed and circled the legs of the wooden icebox lined with tin inside, which served as their cold storage.
"Shh, I know, I know," Lucien said softly with a faint smile on his face.
Lucien approached, crouching slowly by resting on his knees, which still felt a little shaky. He turned the brass hook of the icebox until a soft click sound was heard. Cold air hit his fingers as the wooden door opened. From inside, he took a bowl containing pieces of catsmeat—boiled processed meat that Florence bought from a street vendor.
He opened the linen cloth cover, took and tore a piece of boiled meat into small shreds with his fingers, then placed it on Lumi's small pottery plate.
"Here you go, Lumi," he said softly. He closed the bowl again with the linen cloth, put it back into the icebox, and closed it.
On the floor, Lumi was busy devouring the shreds of meat with its eyelids half-closed, enjoying its food with satisfied purring.
Lucien then stood up slowly, holding onto the edge of the wooden table to support his feet. Lucien walked two steps toward the white ceramic sink. He turned the brass faucet there, letting cold water wash away the remaining boiled fat on his fingers. He used a bar of soap and rubbed his hands slowly. After that, he dried his fingers on a clean rag hanging beside the sink.
Knock.. Knock..
A knocking sound was heard from the wooden front door of the house. Lucien stopped his movements for a moment and glanced toward the living room. A thin frown appeared on his forehead.
"Who is it?" Lucien called softly, walking slowly toward the door.
"National Post! It's me, Thomas." A familiar voice replied from behind the door, sounding casual yet still loud, characteristic of a postman accustomed to calling out in the capital.
"Wait," Lucien replied. Slowly but surely, Lucien finally arrived in front of the door, turned the brass knob, and opened it. Cold air greeted him along with the scent of coal oil remnants, and a slight metallic sting was inhaled by him. On the threshold, stood a young man in his mid-twenties in a thick grey postman coat with his characteristic peaked cap. Thomas, one of the postmen who had been covering the delivery route in the third quadrant of the Inner Ring for the past few years, where the Old Quarter stretched, smiled faintly while lifting the brim of his cap slightly with one finger. His face looked slightly smeared with thin soot smoke from the capital that morning.
"It's you, Lucien. Good Morning!" Thomas greeted warmly.
"It's not usual to see you at the door," he joked, glancing past Lucien's shoulder toward the inside of the house.
Lucien narrowed his eyes, smiled thinly, and looked at Thomas in front of him with one eyebrow raised. He understood very well that Thomas had not the slightest opportunity.
"Where is your aunt?" He asked, while reaching into the thick leather shoulder bag hanging at his waist, Thomas then pulled out two envelopes and one thick medium-sized package wrapped in rough-fibered brown paper, tied crosswise using thick hemp rope and pressed with a deep red wax seal. On the surface of the hardened wax, there was an embossed figure of a creature with spread wings and two heads clutching a seven-pointed star, surrounded by carvings of vine-like roots that sprawled from its tail and surrounded the entire ornament.
"She is resting." Thomas looked at the wax seal for a moment, then offered the heavy package. Thomas gave no further reply and only nodded slowly.
"Two letter envelopes, and…" Thomas looked at the wax seal for a moment before looking at Lucien with a smile full of admiration.
Once Lucien reached out his hand and his fingers touched the package, his gaze was immediately fixed on the deep red wax seal.
"Congratulations." Thomas smiled with admiration, seeing the expression on Lucien's face.
Lucien's breath hitched for a moment before a wide smile that he could not resist bloomed on his face. There was a tremendous sense of relief that suddenly overflowed in his chest. His fingers squeezed the edge of the package gently, ensuring that what was in his hands was real.
"Thank you so much! Thomas," Lucien exclaimed suddenly, his voice sounding much more enthusiastic than usual.
"I have to continue delivering to the neighbor next door," Thomas said while chuckling softly; he tapped his peaked cap once as a friendly gesture of respect with a smile on his face.
Lucien nodded and watched Thomas walk away from his house door, he turned slowly and carefully pushed the door shut using his shoulder.
A soft scent of pine greeted him again, dispelling the coldness from outside.
He slowly walked across the living room toward the sofa area beside the warm fireplace. Lucien sat himself carefully on the sofa, holding his body weight so as not to shock his back, which was still weak.
He put the thick package on the small wooden table beside him, then grabbed the two letter envelopes he had received earlier.
Lucien's eyes widened slightly as he observed the details of the envelopes.
The first envelope that was on top felt simple, its paper was a faded brown but thick and plain, pressed with a dark blue wax seal, addressed to:
Mrs. F. Faraday,
9 Old Quarter,
Inner Ring,
Columbus City.
Lucien rubbed the surface of the envelope for a moment, leaned his back slowly, and exhaled a long breath. Carefully, so as not to damage the envelope, Lucien placed it neatly on the table beside him. After that, his attention turned completely to the second envelope.
The second envelope was thick, stiff, and heavy ivory cream. Its surface was finely fibered with the paper's edges left rough. It was pressed with a deep red wax seal, similar to the seal on the thick package beside it, with metallic gold ink strokes that sparkled subtly when hit by the fireplace's warm light:
Mr. L. Noctval,
9 Old Quarter,
Inner Ring,
Columbus City,
Republic of Columbus.
Lucien's heart beat a little faster. He flipped the letter envelope, revealing the deep red wax seal that pressed the closing fold on the back side. His thumb rubbed gently on the embossed wax seal carving there.
With slow movements, Lucien began to slip his finger under the deep red wax seal fold; the cold air of the Old Quarter seemed held outside. Under the warm light of the fireplace, the sound of the wax cracking sounded light, but marked the beginning of a new chapter he had long been waiting for.