North slope mine, firing room backyard.
The nightingale picked up the glass placed on the table and raised it above her head. The crystal-clear body of the glass shimmered under the light, showing no trace of impurity.
She knew these cups were called crystal goblets, with their firing process and recipe being strictly confidential in the royal alchemy workshop. The tall goblet in her hand alone was worth about a gold dragon coin. Crystal glassware paired with exquisite silver cutlery has always been the favorite of the elite nobility and wealthy merchants to flaunt their wealth.
Now, these crystal vessels brought from the royal palace are about to be melted down for smelting.
"Your Highness, what you're burning isn't a cup—it's a golden dragon," the Nightingale sighed.
"I don't have time to research how to turn sand into colorless glass, so I'll just make do with this method for now." Roland tossed a crystal pot of exquisite craftsmanship into Anna's black fire-heated cauldron. Nightingale still remembered how Prince had once used it to serve ale, filling cups for the sisters at Castle Garden's afternoon tea and the Demon Moon celebration banquet. A pang of regret welled up in her heart.
At a steady high temperature, the pot quickly softens and then turns into a sticky paste.
"Using sand... to melt glass?" Anna asked. "Are they the same substance?" "Well, the main components are similar, but sand contains many impurities. The glass produced tends to be brownish or greenish, which doesn't meet practical requirements." "So, glass is pure sand?" Roland smiled. "You could say so. When I write this part into a book, you'll understand how those small spheres form matter." "I wouldn't understand..." Nightingale pouted. Besides, different colored glass doesn't affect its container function. After all, you're not using it as a cup—why insist on melting it in a transparent crystal cup? She walked over to Anna and examined the glassware that had been remelted.
Although they still appear colorless and transparent, they look very different from the previous crystal cups.
Some resemble tubes with rounded bases, slender and elongated. Others resemble bottles, featuring a wide base like a kettle and a narrow mouth at the top, approximately the width of a thumb.
The strangest was a pipe bent into a horseshoe shape, with neither end sealed—so much so that it couldn't even serve as a container.
"What are you going to do with these crystal glass dishes?" Nightingale couldn't help asking.
"It's not for my use, but for the alchemists of Border Town in the future," Roland stirred the viscous substance in the black fire with a glass rod. "They can extract acids and alkalis from these vessels to produce the chemical compounds needed for my new weapons." Acids? Alkalis? Chemicals? Nightingale blinked, realizing she couldn't understand Your Highness's words at all. The confusion made her feel stifled. Yet asking each term separately would seem too ignorant. She didn't want to reveal this side of herself to Anna, so she focused on the only terms she understood.
"Where do you expect to find alchemists in this small town? Even the Changge Fortress has no alchemy workshops. You can only find alchemists in Chishui City, and they're said to earn more than Lord Minister. Recruiting them with just Golden Dragons alone is nearly impossible." "You know quite a bit," Roland replied with a smile. "That's exactly right. My men are already on their way to Chishui City, and we'll have news in about two weeks. But I'm not using Golden Dragons to recruit them—I'm using alchemical secrets instead. Whether I can recruit them or not remains uncertain, but I'll have to give it a try." Your Royal Highness's first words instantly dispelled Nightingale's gloom. She returned to the center of the courtyard, satisfied, and stuffed a piece of pastry from the round table into her mouth.
Since Roland moved the main lab from the castle backyard to the North Slope Mountain kiln, the afternoon tea has also been relocated there.
The table was laden with royal delicacies specially prepared by the chef for Your Royal Highness.
Take this pastry called baozi as an example. Its outer shell is made from wheat flour, though the specific processing method remains unknown, resulting in an exceptionally soft and glutinous texture. The interior is filled with minced meat, finely chopped and infused with juices... Unlike the hard and unpalatable texture of salted pork, a single bite allows the minced meat to seamlessly blend with the meat juices.
The nightingale put its fingers into its mouth and sucked them one by one, leaning back in the armchair as a wave of drowsiness crept over its heart.
Do you feel like you've been getting lazier lately?
The afternoon sunlight bathed her in a warm, liquid-like embrace. The rustling of leaves stirred by the spring breeze filled her heart with profound tranquility. She removed her shoes, curled her legs, and lay down on her side.
This vantage point revealed the side door from the backyard leading to the gunpowder workshop, its entrance still draped with a gauze curtain—likely a precaution Your Highness had implemented to prevent her from sneaking in. The thought amused Nightingale. Whether it was the courtyard partition or the workshop's outer wall, these were all open spaces she could move through freely. She had once entered God's secret chamber, quietly observing as Your Highness explained the production process, though she never took the finished gunpowder.
The other party, however, believed they were acting so discreetly that God knew nothing of it, completely unaware that they were the ones who had been kept in the dark.
The nightingale shifted its head and looked at Anna.
She was holding a freshly baked flat-bottomed cup, talking to Your Highness, while God looked deeply absorbed in the conversation.
The Nightingale held deep admiration for this woman, who, though from a humble background, was a prodigy.
The sisters of the Brotherhood were able to escape their turbulent fate and the torment of the Magic Power's backlash, largely thanks to Anna—had she not altered Prince's view of the Witch, none of the subsequent twists would have occurred.
If Your Highness were to marry a witch, Anna would be the only candidate she could think of.
Though she harbored a faint hope, the Nightingale chose to bury it deep within her heart. Most days, simply being by Your Highness's side was enough to fill her with contentment.
She closed her eyes and a picture involuntarily appeared in her mind.
Roland ascended the throne in the grand palace hall, wearing a golden crown and holding a gemstone scepter, as he walked to the castle terrace, greeted by the people's adoration and cheers.
The woman walking beside him, draped in a white silk gown and holding hands, was none other than Anna. She too wore a gleaming golden crown, veiled, and greeted the people with a smile and a wave.
The lightning circled in the sky, scattering crimson rose petals, while the distant bell tower of the royal capital resonated with a melodious chime.
I stood beside the other sisters and applauded to send my blessings.
An increasingly intense drowsiness pervaded the entire body, and consciousness gradually became blurred.
Roland turned around, lifted the woman's veil, and kissed her lips.
The final scene grew increasingly hazy. As the veil fell, the nightingale vaguely glimpsed the woman with closed eyes... only to realize it was herself.
She curled her lips and fell asleep.