Wulfstadt was a riverbank town that served as a link to the greater city of Aurelburg. It was surrounded by thick forest cover from the eastward fringes of the Antikwald; a sight opposite to the gray towers and high walls of the neighboring locale. Guarded searchlights were seen, though the sky was far from dark enough to use them.

  Euphemia saw soldiers stationed near the banks; their blue and red uniforms were an easy hint that none of them belonged to any family, but were troops sent by the Capital. The ferry lowered anchor on the docks; river currents were strong at the time, and every passenger felt the vessel slightly shake before it settled at its mooring.

  A slight clatter from the lowered wooden ramp was all people needed to move out of the ship and pour into the town. Thick smoke popped and whistled out of the riverside businesses; cooked fish and eel were dishes roasted and grilled for the night ahead. Guests were converging on some of the places.

  "It's almost evening." Euphemia looked up to see the gradating blue and violet haze. "Do you want a meal, Rook?"

  Rook stopped at where the canoness stood and saw the diners filling out the restaurants. "I can hold out for an hour or more."

  She drew her purse from her sleeve: a few bills' worth of Marks left. The Schild family left reasonable sums of funds in all of the Empire's largest cities; there was no opportunity to assert her identity in the smaller cooperative banks that this town certainly housed. Had she spent too much on Rook?

  There was more than enough to last a few days if they ate nothing but the town's common delicacies. Euphemia preferred to cook meals herself, but she remembered the local church bearing no accommodations for traveling clergy.

  Her focus returned to Rook, saying: "We can either find a place to stay for the night, or try to catch the last train to Aurelburg..."

  She stopped. Wulfstadt, even in its quaint appearance, was still bigger than the average Imperial village. She vaguely knew where the train station was, and judging by the patrols of constables and soldiers, there might be an imposed curfew on many of the areas. Euphemia collected her thoughts again before resuming speech:

  "I don't know this place much, but I remember an inn nearby."

  The canoness looked at the road ahead. "Let us go and see if we can stay for the night."

  Euphemia and Rook walked into where she thought the nearby traveler's lodge stood. It was a little less than a hundred paces from the ferry. The cleric remembered it – only that what was left of the place was not livable.

  It was an uneven pile of wood and torn-down walls; only the right wing section of the lodge was standing, and the space was occupied by someone in charge of watching over the ruined property.

  "You're looking at what is left of the lodge." The watchman said, "It wouldn't do the both of you any good standing around here until late night."

  "Thank you for advising us." Euphemia nodded in respect before looking away. Her attention turned to Rook, who was focused on the charred pillars and fragments of window glass. She approached the boy and asked:

  "Is there anything that caught your attention, Rook?"

  "Gunfight."

  Rook picked up a deformed clump of metal. It looked like any pebble that lay on the ground at first glance; any bullet would have gone out of shape if it struck a hard enough surface.

  Euphemia leaned closer. "Is this related to the one you're looking for?"

  "No. This is not from Master."

  The boy flicked the misshapen bullet away and turned around. Euphemia's gaze followed Rook as he walked away. She rounded her lips to ask a question about this elusive figure the boy set out for, but none of the words were made. There would be a right time to ask - but it wasn't now. Breathing slowly, she settled with saying this instead:

  "It's a good thing there are other places to stay nearby."

  Nighttime was setting in; the road ahead almost shared a color with the space. Streetlamps came to life, illuminating some of the gray stone squares that made up the pavement. The cleric thought of where to go next. They walked a few meters to their right; an aged and humble hostel overlooking the river began turning on its lights. Chimes sounded upon their arrival, where an elderly woman was attending to the desk.

  ????

  Morning started with Euphemia and Rook spending it at the hostel's kitchen. They were on the road again after a quick meal.

  A faint outline was seen northeast of the hostel: train tracks. From there, it was a matter of following where it led to.

  Wulfstadt's train station was far from where they lodged for the night, but it was nothing that walking could not cover.

  The two passed by a house with a little tract of land for vegetables. The cleric couldn't make it out if traces of dew were on some of the crops' surfaces. It looked less like frost, lacking the usual glossy surface it gave to affected plants. She saw the sun reaching out beyond the cloud cover that made the day gloomier than it should be.

  A bearded man was seen tending to the property. Fresh piles of hay were ready to be bundled into bales. Loose corn kernels and fragmented grains were dropped and fed to the loitering chickens; most of the plots were occupied with a few columns of produce, though they were barely fit for consumption. His boot soles made soft crunches on the gritty earth as he moved towards Euphemia and Rook. He called their attention, removing his hat and raising it as if hailing the travelers.

  "You're a sister of the Church?" The stranger placed his brown leather hat on his chest. His eyes, red-rimmed and tired, flicked to Rook before coming back to Euphemia.

  "Yes." She faced him, a beaming face against the light. "Can I help you with anything?"

  "I... would like a request, Sister." His voice was rough, caught between courtesy and strain. "Pray for my house. And my harvest. If frost comes early again..."

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  His words trailed off, but the half-finished thought carried a weight. Euphemia nodded, though she felt the boy shift beside her. She approached the man before pulling out a small book of scripture from a waist pouch. Rook's eyes darted to the barren stalks that leaned in the field—thin, brittle things that didn't look ready for a season's return.

  She opened the booklet and read a passage. Closing the book, she began:

  "O Great Effulgence, with Your unwavering guidance, we come before You with grateful hearts to seek Your blessing for an abundant harvest.

  May our efforts be fruitful, and our labor be rewarded. Grant us Your wisdom and perseverance as we grow not only our crops and tend to our homes, but also nourish our hope and faith.

  Let Your grace overflow in our lives, so that these blessings we share in turn. These we all ask of You."

  Her tone was steady, practiced, but when she glanced up, his eyes were closed so tightly that his brow quivered.

  When she finished, he opened them again, and there was a thin gleam along the edge of his lashes.

  "Thank you, Sister. It has been a long time since anyone has prayed here. We don't see priests much anymore. Not since..." He stopped himself, his jaw tightening. "Well. I'm grateful."

  "You are most welcome." Euphemia bent down to inspect the vegetables more closely, then stood up. "There's hope, and enough time, for things to turn out favorably for you and your crops."

  The man nodded, but it was a stiff, uneasy gesture—more habit than conviction. "If there's anything I can do to repay you, I..."

  "There's no need." She gave a slow shake of her head. "Help freely given needs no return."

  As they left, Rook glanced back once at the man still standing by his field, hat pressed against his chest.

  "Did you need to do all that?"

  "That prayer, you mean?" Euphemia kept her eyes on the road ahead. "It was a need I could immediately answer."

  "I don't think prayer is going to change his crops." Rook frowned. "Some of them looked like you can't cook anything with them anymore. Even animals won't eat that."

  "You may be right. Colder winds can ruin even the strongest growth, and prayer alone may not be enough to stop it." Euphemia's voice stayed even, but her hands tightened faintly on the strap of her purse. "But hope sometimes comes like a ray of the sun, nourishing what remains."

  Euphemia raised her hand, trying to capture what little ray of light the sun spared with her palm. She turned around and looked at the plot of land. The homeowner turned his back and was heading home. With her eyes still on where they came, she continued:

  "There are times faith must walk hand-in-hand with action. Perhaps tomorrow can shine a light on how much of his crops can be saved." Her voice lifted upward, not in defense, but rather curious about her companion's thoughts. "Do you believe all wilted things are beyond saving?"

  Rook shrugged his shoulders, careful not to upset the balance of Euphemia's bag slung on him. "I don't think anything but worms eats mulch. Can this... god of yours, that Creator, bring wilted things to life?"

  She smiled, though there was a hint that the canoness was stopping herself from laughing.

  "Even I cannot answer for the Creator. But mulch feeds the soil, and the next season benefits from it. But winter has to come to pass before we can find out."

  The boy watched Euphemia look at the road ahead. He walked right behind her; the outline of the man's house and vegetable garden became fainter. He put both his hands behind his head, one of them scratching his hair.

  "I think I get it. It still doesn't make sense to me." Rook's eyes focused on the sky and then back to the cleric. "Where are we going next?"

  "There is a city a little north of this town that has a large library." Euphemia looked at the outline of the train station's gates that was becoming clearer with each step towards it. "There is something I need to know about those creatures, or rather those machine-beings, that we met that night."

  Rook asked no more on the matter; he followed Euphemia until they reached Wulfstadt's eastern edge.

  ????

  There were a pair of booths before the travelers; beyond them was a small waiting platform. Rook smelled the scent of vapor as he stepped into the waiting area. A low whistle, followed by the tolling of small brass bells, alerted everybody to the approaching machine that slowly chugged to a halt in front of the awaiting people.

  This train looked different from the ones Rook used to see back at his hometown. It was well-polished in a sleeker and more colorful paint scheme than the uniform, sharp-nosed maroon machines that operated up north.

  Everyone on the platform boarded the steam engine, and Rook found the interior to be a pleasant surprise. Ahead of them were seats that were divided among small rooms that could house up to four passengers each. Euphemia found them a room that was seven steps from the right of the train car's doorway. Rook got in ahead of the cleric and jumped to the long leather seat nearest to the window.

  "Quite the excited one, aren't you?"

  "I've never been in this kind of train before. The ones I've been aboard don't have these cars... or I've never ridden one before."

  "You'll surely enjoy the journey. It will take... from here to Aurelburg... three hours. That won't be long."

  Rook watched houses, hills, and trees come to his eyes and fade as the engine moved forward. This scenery was very different from the snow-capped environs he grew up with. They were calm, more alive and colorful than the ones in his memory, but they were too distant; he could not feel the place he was in.

  The Master appeared in his mind again. He was more than a shadow now; the glimmer of rimmed spectacles showed against the light. A tall figure stood, but made shorter by the slight hunching of his back. There were blurs – images of old wood, with some projecting a cold, moldy smell, and windows that showed nothing beyond the glass.

  "Why the hesitation, boy? You must not waste time. Everything depends on you. You have been one of my most special ones..."

  He shook his head. Rook found himself meeting the cleric's eyes. She had a look of concern on her face and was about to open her lips. Rook wouldn't let the pleasant lady be in on his problem. Besides, maybe he could talk to Metis, or perhaps any of the others who knew the Master better.

  The train rolled on, and Rook saw two towns and a village when the engine finally stopped.

  "We have arrived at Aurelburg Station. Please take care of your belongings as you alight from the train."

  A boxed speaker talked in a cool yet formal tone. Euphemia and Rook were at a domed structure that had stalls and restaurants beyond the receiving gateways. It was far more complex than anything Altrecht or a little earlier, Wulfstadt, had. It was much noisier than both those towns because of the people in and out of the place.

  Outside the train station was a community that had modest buildings, but Aurelburg did not have the bustling crowds that were normal in Blaurosen. There were no relics of years past like the redoubts that sat before the Schild Estate, and much of the city used unfamiliar automobiles Rook never saw elsewhere.

  "Wow. Amazing." Rook's sight followed a moving vehicle that disappeared after making a right turn.

  "They are wonderful machines. I want to see these at home, or even take a ride in one of them."

  Euphemia smiled at Rook. She pulled out a small map and looked at certain sections of it; her eyes tightened to a discerning look upon scanning its right-hand side. She couldn't believe seven years had brought so much change to a place. Either convent life diminished her ability to read a map, or she needed to buy a new one soon.

  "Where are we going from here, Euphemia?" Rook's question snapped apart the canoness' attachment from the map.

  "It is a place known as the Imperial Archives."

  After letting out a long sigh with some head-shaking, her trust in the colorful paper guide was gone. The cleric folded it aside and looked at the city ahead. Euphemia surveyed from left to right before concluding with:

  "More importantly, we'll need to find a room."