The North Coast Corridor. Capital of the City Alliance. Kexwick.
Atop this city's most renowned "Rose Square," ice roses that still bloomed in the cold spread out like clusters of burning flame, dazzling and scorching to the eye.
But tonight, the night itself seemed to vanish. No one admired their beauty. The square, the surrounding streets, the nearby houses—everywhere that the enormous black "curtain" in the center could be seen, crowds had packed themselves in. They craned their necks upward, wearing nearly identical expressions of awe as they watched the "curtain" shift and change, listening to the melancholy, serene melody of the "Moonlight Sonata" that seemed to resonate deep within their hearts.
Only when "Nightingale" Louise spoke did they snap out of their trance, erupting in wave after wave of astonishment. Living people inside the "curtain"? Or was this some spell even more wondrous than the magic radio—one that let people not only hear voices but actually see figures?
Miss Nightingale's words resolved their confusion and shock, but stirred up an even more fervid wave of excitement. This was something they had never experienced, and neither had their ancestors. Was this the "Arcane civilization" that the "Voice of Mysteries" had repeatedly proclaimed? Was this one of its manifestations?
In the crowd, a man wearing a leather cap stared at "Nightingale" Louise with horrified eyes, shaking his head in disbelief. Had the Magic Parliament gone a step further with their broadcast? Making it so that anyone, anywhere, could see "The Valkyrie" inside the Lontart Kingdom Grand Theatre?
And what did that mean? Others might not know, but as an elite member of the Night Watch, he understood better than anyone.
Ever since the magic radio had been invented by Lucian Evans, ever since the "Voice of Mysteries" had begun broadcasting, he had witnessed the entire transformation in the people of the North Coast Corridor's many prosperous cities—their shifting attitudes toward the Church. At first, he hadn't paid it much mind. But perhaps the change of hearts happened precisely in that silent, imperceptible way. By the time he sensed the atmosphere around him had gone wrong, every detail had already become terrifying and suffocating.
And with the Church's defeat in the "Battle of Lontart," he had gone from a hunter pursuing prey to prey itself—scrambling to flee, hiding wherever he could.
And now, the magic radio could not only transmit sound but display images? What monstrous changes would that bring?
Though he had witnessed everything just now and understood that this model would need who knew how many more years before it could be promoted the way the earlier magic radio had been, the Magic Parliament was working on it. Step by step, they were moving forward—while the Church showed no response whatsoever.
"No good. I must report to the Proxy immediately!" He clutched his leather cap, lowered his head, and began pushing his way out through the ever-thickening crowd. It took considerable effort before he finally squeezed free.
Once he left the vicinity of the square, the surroundings quickly grew quiet. The Night Watch agent found a secluded, unoccupied corner, produced a Divine Arts item shaped like a brooch, and attempted to relay what had just happened to the Church.
In his urgency, he tried to contact the Heretical Tribunal headquarters in the Holy City of Lance directly. But all that came through the "brooch" was a cacophony of noise.
"Damn it! The Magic Parliament's 'Voice of Mysteries' can be received anywhere and even transmits images, yet I can't even establish contact with the Holy City of Lance! How am I supposed to fight mages like this?" He immediately flew into a rage, frustration and anxiety churning within him.
He understood, of course, that things were no longer as they had been. Kexwick was now under the Magic Parliament's control. Without a cathedral equipped with matter-transmission and sound-transmission arrays to serve as a relay, the Night Watch agents hiding on both sides of the Tempest Strait and throughout the North Coast Corridor could no longer communicate as conveniently as before. His attempt just now had been nothing more than an ingrained habit. And yet, the Magic Parliament's mages could still use their "Artificial Planet" to communicate with Allinger even from within Church-controlled territory!
That disparity was the true source of his frustration and agitation!
The Artificial Planet—which had originally seemed created merely to challenge the authority of the True Gods—was now radiating a brilliance no one had imagined. It was unquestionably one of the most far-reaching alchemical artifacts ever produced!
He pulled out a cigarette, a specialty of the Brianna Kingdom, and placed it between his lips with trembling fingers. Then, holding it in his mouth, he gently rubbed his right thumb against his forefinger, conjuring a small flame.
The cigarette lit. He took a deep drag, steadied his emotions, then reactivated the brooch and established contact with his superior, the "Proxy," who was also hiding in Kexwick.
The Night Watch agent clenched his teeth in thought: he had to propose to the Church that they develop their own Artificial Planet!
But he also knew that this product of the more cutting-edge realms of Archanist research would be nearly impossible for the Church's Cardinals to replicate. Launching a satellite, on the other hand—they could probably manage that without too much trouble. So, if the opportunity arose, they should simply capture one of the Magic Parliament's Artificial Planets!
Intelligence regarding the "satellite broadcast" spread, level by level, segment by segment, toward the Holy City of Lance, carried along by the Parliament's iron grip on its own territory. Perhaps even by the time "The Valkyrie" had finished its performance, Pope Benedict III would still not have received the report.
......
The grand, radiant gold of the Lontart Kingdom Grand Theatre dominated its interior. Arcane Magic crystal lamps hung from the ceiling or were set into the walls, casting pure, luminous radiance that complemented the gilded décor perfectly.
Lucian sat in a private box with Natasha, awaiting the start of "The Valkyrie."
"I've been looking forward to this opera for years. Tonight, I can finally fulfill that wish." Oliver Constantin strode in with refined elegance, removed his white gloves, and shook Lucian's hand with a warm smile.
No matter how many disagreements they had on matters of the microscopic realm, he would never glare at Lucian in daily life—especially not in the domain of theater and opera, which he so loved.
"I hope you enjoy it," Lucian replied with a smile, gesturing for Oliver to sit.
Besides him, few Legendary Magicians had been willing to attend the opening of the Lontart Music Festival. Douglas was busy with his own preparations and had no particular fondness for opera, so he did not appear. Brooke was more or less the same. Vincent, whose relationship with Lucian was frigid and who disliked opera as well, was a no-show. And Helen, who could barely muster enthusiasm for everyday life and wished to pour every waking moment into Archanist research and magic experimentation, was even less likely to come.
The other Legendary Magicians were either abroad, guarding regional branches in various countries, or occupied with their research. None had shown up.
"Opera isn't all that interesting, anyway." Sitting beside Lucian, Fernando—the "Lord of Storms"—gazed intently at the stage, still wearing his vivid crimson magic robe.