The one and a half weeks at sea had passed in a dream-like blur. Days bled into one another, marked only by the slow, lazy journey of the sun across a vast, cerulean canvas. The joyous, chaotic energy of their wedding and farewell in Hanyuun had slowly dissolved into the gentle, rhythmic rocking of the ship, replaced by a quiet, profound peace that was as vast and as deep as the ocean itself.
Now, that peace was broken by the welcome, chaotic sounds of a new world. With a final, groaning shudder of protesting timber, the great merchant ship docked, its hull bumping gently against the massive, elevated pier of Spica.
The sight that greeted them was a breathtaking, impossible thing. The land itself was partially submerged, a shimmering, ankle-deep sheet of crystal-clear water that stretched as far as the eye could see. From this turquoise foundation, the architecture of Spica rose in a defiant, beautiful rebellion against the sea. Towers of white stone and polished wood seemed to float on the surface, connected by a delicate, intricate web of high-arched bridges and elevated wooden platforms that crisscrossed the watery landscape.
From their vantage point on the ship's deck, Raito and Yukari could only stare, their past life of chaotic battles and creeping shadows feeling like a distant, half-forgotten dream. A new region. A new experience. For the first time, a journey not of escape, but of pure, unadulterated discovery. The light of a shared, unspoken excitement ignited in their eyes.
“Hohoho!”
Bob’s familiar, booming laugh was a warm, gentle rumble that cut through their awe-struck silence. He walked over, his massive frame a comforting presence against the strange, new horizon, a stoic Mila at his side as usual.
“Finally, you two look alive,” he commented, his kind eyes twinkling with a paternal amusement.
“Of course, we’re finally here,” Raito said, his own voice full of a renewed, boyish energy as he turned from the impossible view. He let out a dramatic sigh, the last of the voyage’s monotony still clinging to him. “That one and a half weeks on the open sea… I thought it was fun at first, but then reality hit us. There was absolutely nothing to do.”
Yukari nodded in vehement agreement, a playful pout on her lips. “There’s only so many times you can count corals and fishes from the side of a ship, Bob,” she complained, her voice a light, teasing thing that was a world away from the sharp commands of a battlefield commander.
“Well, that’s the seafaring life for you,” Bob chuckled, his gaze sweeping over the strange, beautiful city before them. He leaned against the railing, a quiet, almost wistful look in his eyes. “Between you and me, I prefer traveling by land. But this place…” He gestured with his head towards the glittering, water-logged world beyond the pier. “This place can only be reached by ship.”
“Really?” Yukari asked, her curiosity piqued, a playful glint in her silver eyes. “You’re a merchant who has allegedly traveled everywhere and knows everyone. You have a place that you dislike?”
“Of course, dear,” Bob explained, his usual cheerfulness unwavering. “Even someone like me has something that I hate. And it’s because I’ve traveled everywhere that I can dislike this place.”
“Why?” Raito asked, his own interest now genuine.
“Because of Tama,” Mila interjected, her voice a flat, deadpan thing that cut through Bob’s jovial tone.
Bob just nodded, a profound, almost paternal sorrow in his eyes as he looked down at the massive yak who was just now being led off the ship, her heavy hooves clomping uncertainly on the wooden planks of the pier. “You see, this region is partially submerged,” he explained, his voice turning into a low, furious rumble of pure, protective indignation. “So there isn’t much land for Tama to properly ‘walk.’ She either has to walk on these white stone roads and then be hauled onto a boat, or just ride on a boat from the start. It’s not a suitable place for her! I want her to stretch her majestic legs!”
“Ah, I see… haha,” Raito commented, his answer slightly awkward as he tried to process the sheer, overwhelming force of Bob’s devotion to his yak.
“So, who is this client you need to meet?” Yukari asked, her voice a quick, gentle current that pulled the conversation away from the treacherous waters of Bob’s yak-related frustrations.
“Let’s see…” Bob pulled a small, folded note from his chest pocket, his earlier frustration melting away into a more professional focus. “Her name is Fifi. She lives here in Azul Spira, the capital, works as a tour guide. She says to meet us at Elevator Number Eight. She ordered six crates of fresh Zarateph desert mangoes, twelve crates of Hanyuun coconuts, and a handful of horned boar fur… whatever that means.”
“Sounds like she is something,” Yukari said, a thoughtful, almost suspicious glint in her silver eyes. “A repeat customer?”
“No, not really,” Bob admitted, his brow furrowed as he looked at the note again. “This is the first time I’ve gotten an order from her. By mail. This will be the first time I meet her.”
“You’re not worried this will be a scam?” Raito asked, his own gaze now laced with a quiet, practical concern.
“I already warned him,” Mila explained, her voice a low, steady thing that held a note of weary resignation. “The message we got was very vague.”
“Nonsense!” Bob’s booming laugh cut through their cautious murmurs. “With the grand play happening soon, perhaps this lady wants to start selling fruits to the tourists! We can never let opportunities pass us by! Thus is the merchant’s way, hohoho!” He clapped his hands together, his earlier doubts completely gone, replaced by a wave of pure, unadulterated optimism. “So, let’s go! Our destination is Azul Spira!”
He turned and began to walk down the gangway, his massive frame a picture of cheerful, unwavering confidence as he gestured for the others to follow him off the ship.
Raito and Yukari exchanged a look, a shared, silent groan of pure, theatrical defeat passing between them. With a synchronized, lethargic motion, they both pumped a single, unenthusiastic fist into the air, a silent, sarcastic salute to Bob’s unshakable, and possibly reckless, nonchalance. Mila just watched them for a moment, then, with a slow shake of her head and a quiet sigh that seemed to carry the weight of a thousand questionable business deals, she facepalmed and began to begrudgingly walk behind her master.
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The group began their journey. The four of them rode in the main wagon, Tama’s heavy, steady steps a rhythmic, comforting clomp on the brilliant white stone of the elevated walkway. Bob’s crew followed a short distance behind, their own smaller wagons a quiet, respectful procession.
The walkway itself was a marvel, a wide, massive avenue of polished stone that seemed to float a few feet above the shimmering, ankle-deep water. On either side, grand, intricately carved pillars rose towards the sky, their surfaces a tapestry of spiraling motifs and heroic figures frozen in mid-battle. Between them, elegant statues of serene, robed figures and mythical beasts stood on their own raised platforms, their silent, stone gazes watching the travelers pass by.
With every turn, with every new, breathtaking vista that opened up before them, a small, involuntary gasp of wonder escaped either Yukari or Raito’s lips. The sheer, unapologetic grandeur of it all was a testament to a skill and a vision that was a world away from the simple, practical beauty of Hanyuun or the imposing, martial functionality of Ruhong. The fact that the people of Spica had managed to build such a masterpiece on a foundation of water, that it had withstood the test of time and weather, spoke volumes of their craftsmanship.
Still, a quiet, almost heretical thought certainly entered their minds as they passed yet another flawlessly sculpted statue of a woman holding a lute. Do they really need all these decorations for just a walkway?
The flora and fauna of Spica were just as shocking. Fish with delicate, wing-like fins seemed to walk on the surface of the water, their movements a strange, beautiful dance. Strange, iridescent plants that looked like a cross between a lily pad and a crystal pulsed with a soft, inner light, and from the center of their broad leaves, they would occasionally shoot a thin, arcing jet of water, as if they were living hoses tending to some unseen garden.
This was certainly an interesting place for their vacation, Yukari thought, a genuine, uncomplicated smile on her face. And at least, Raito added in his own mind, a wave of profound, almost religious gratitude washing over him, it wasn’t as hot as Hanyuun.
A few hours later, the wagon came to a halt.
“We’re here,” Bob said, his voice a quiet, almost reverent thing.
“Azul Spira?” Yukari asked, her voice a hushed whisper of anticipation.
“Where else?” Bob replied, a wide, proud grin in his voice.
“But there’s nothing in front of us,” Raito commented, his brow furrowed as he looked out of the wagon. The brilliant white stone walkway simply ended, opening up into a vast, empty expanse of clear blue sky.
“Well, you won’t see it if you just look from here,” Bob gestured with a tilt of his head. “Go on out and see for yourselves.”
Yukari and Raito nodded, a shared, unspoken excitement passing between them. They stepped out of the wagon, their boots making a soft, crunching sound on the polished stone. They walked to the very edge of the road, and then they saw it.
And the world fell away.
A massive, circular city lay suspended beneath them, seemingly floating in the heart of an endless, azure abyss. And all around it, a perfect, 360-degree curtain of shimmering, cascading waterfalls plunged into the unseen depths, their thunderous roar a constant, majestic symphony. From their vantage point, Azul Spira looked like a colossal ship’s wheel, the city itself the central hub, with eight massive stone walkways stretching out like spokes to meet the surrounding land.
The mouths of Yukari and Raito gaped open. The grandeur of the walkways, the impossible beauty of the water-logged landscape… it was all just a prelude, a quiet, humble introduction to this.
“How… how did they build something like this?” Raito breathed, the words a quiet, reverent prayer against the roar of the falls.
“It’s beautiful,” Yukari whispered, her own voice a hushed note of pure, unadulterated awe.
“If there’s one thing about this place,” Bob’s voice, a warm, booming rumble, came from atop his wagon, “it’s certainly good at bringing newcomers to their knees with its beauty.”
“So…” Raito finally managed, tearing his gaze away from the impossible city. “How do we go down there?”
“Watch,” Bob said simply.
As if on cue, one of the eight spokes of the great wheel began to move. A massive section of the walkway, an elevator of impossible scale, detached itself from the city and began to glide silently upwards, its path a smooth, graceful arc that ended with a soft, almost imperceptible click as it connected with the end of their own walkway. A massive gate slid open, revealing two paths.
Bob gestured to the right. “That one’s for us.”
Yukari and Raito nodded, their earlier awe now mixed with a fresh wave of bewildered excitement. They walked into the elevator, followed by Bob’s wagon and the smaller wagons of his crew, their wheels rumbling onto a massive, flat platform. Once they were all secured, Bob called out to a man in a small, glass-walled booth at the side of the elevator. “We’re ready!”
The man pressed a button, and with a low, hydraulic hiss, an opening in the wall behind them slid open. Water, a powerful, controlled torrent, began to flow into the channel beneath their platform. The massive platform began to float, then, pushed by the current, it started its slow, graceful descent down the long, sloping tunnel, into the heart of the City of Waters, Wonders, and Arts.
“We’re moving,” Raito commented, a look of pure, boyish wonder on his face as he felt the gentle, steady motion.
“I see. That’s genius,” Yukari commented, her own voice a hushed whisper of pure, intellectual admiration.
“What is?” Raito asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.
“The way they made this elevator, idiot,” she said, her voice full of a quiet, almost reverent awe. She pointed to the rushing water in the channel beside them. “They used the pressure of Spica’s own currents to push this platform we’re standing on. The right path is to enter the city, the other is to exit.” Her tactical mind, which had once been used to map battlefields, was now a tool for appreciating the sheer, breathtaking brilliance of Spica’s engineering. “And I’m sure the platform will then be rotated at the top or bottom,” she concluded, her analysis complete.
“Bingo!” Bob’s voice was a booming, triumphant thing.
“Whoever came up with this design is a genius,” Yukari smiled, her appreciation for the artistry and logic of it all a genuine, beautiful thing.
“Yeah… I don’t get all that,” Raito admitted with a shrug, his own smile a simpler, more straightforward expression of pure, unadulterated excitement. “But basically, we’re going to enter the city soon, right?”
“Yes!” Yukari’s own smile widened, her earlier analytical focus replaced by a shared, gleeful anticipation.
Minutes later, the platform came to a slow, gentle halt. The massive gate in front of them groaned open, and in a single, fluid, and utterly unexpected motion, a figure leaped from the dock and landed with a theatrical flourish on the platform before them.
It was a girl, her slight frame clad in a simple but stylish set of overalls and a jaunty newsboy cap that was perched at a perfect, rakish angle on her head.
“Finally, thou hast arrived!” she declared, her voice a booming, theatrical thing that was a world away from what they had expected. She struck a pose, one hand on her hip, the other gesturing towards them with a dramatic, sweeping motion. “I have been waiting for ages hence, my heart a lonely vessel upon a sea of endless, patient sorrow!”
Yukari and Raito just stared, their mouths slightly agape, their minds struggling to process the sheer, unapologetic drama of it all.
“Who…?” Raito finally managed, the single word a quiet, bewildered thing in the face of such an overwhelming performance.
“Fifi, of course!” she declared, her gaze snapping to him, a single, accusatory finger pointing directly at his face. “Who else couldst thou have thought I be?”
