INTERLUDE TWO

Going back a few weeks before…

The cart’s wheels rattled sharply over the slight bumps and dents in the road, causing the cart to shake a bit. Though it rolled along at a relaxed pace, the rocking gave the ride a subtly sharp and angular impression, providing nowhere near enough peace for the passenger to sleep.

Agnes Sanctis sat in the back of the cart. The interior was not covered with a cloth canvas supported by a frame; instead it was a real room with walls made of oak.

Her age was, perhaps, somewhere in the mid-teens. She was somewhat shorter than other girls her age. Her skin color was white, and her eyes were the hue of lemon tea. Her hair, between brown and blond—what most would call red—was parted into several braids, each about the thickness of a pencil.

She wore a jet-black habit and thick-soled sandals thirty centimeters high. Her clothing had been created with highly functional material, but it was almost unnaturally clean at the same time. Normally clothing accumulated wear and tear over time as it was used then cleaned, but there was no trace of that. If there was one thing that stood out about what she wore, it was that.

The small nun looked out the window.

The square window was even smaller than a food tray. And just on the outside there were intersecting pieces of lumber attached like a fence. The window was still closed, but the faint smell of salt still reached her nose. Past the glass that lay between her and outside was a satellite city benefiting from an international tourist attraction. She could see parents and children dragging suitcases along and café shopkeepers calling out to them.

“This your first time here?”

The voice came from the front of the cart—from the coachman’s seat. Though Agnes couldn’t see him from here, as the oak wall blocked him off.

The somewhat large, middle-aged man’s voice was distinctive, and he mixed in French-sounding words with his normal Italian. She idly speculated that he might be from Milan.

“Yes. I haven’t had reason to visit. When I’m in the north, it’s usually Milan.”

While her Japanese was rather rough—she’d had difficulties learning the language—her Italian was quite polite. After she responded to the coachman’s words with the same intonation, he immediately softened.

“Oh, that’s nice. If I had to choose, I like the inner lands better. It’s like, the air there is nicer, you know? Crisper, I guess. Around here you’ve got a lot of good places to visit, though. This is how I make my living, but the idea of going around to see new places is attractive. I really am glad I work in Italy—everywhere is unique. I’d get bored of what other countries look like.”

Agnes smiled weakly, still staring out the window. “There are plenty of nice places even outside the country.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I may sound like a fangirl, but you know about World Heritage Sites, right? When you actually go to them, you’ll realize why they were worthwhile enough to add to a list like that. The gardens of Fontainebleau are pieces of art of water, green, and relief sculpture created during the Renaissance, and the Cologne Cathedral is a grand gathering of buildings with pointed tops sticking up into the skies. Though in Asia, thoughts of beauty or ugliness were always preceded by a feeling of mystery.”

“Is that right?” replied the coachman, not sounding very interested.

The cart proceeded at an unhurried speed. The slowness was likely not only because of the coachman’s driving but the fact that the cart was being pulled by donkeys, not horses. They had literally no horsepower.

“People who have been all over the world sure have interesting things to say.”

“No, not at all. I feel more like I’ve mostly focused on Europe.”

“For me, there’s no mostly about it. Never been out of Europe myself. I mean, this is my job and all. Only so far you can really go in a cart.”

“Does everyone use airplanes to travel far?”

“Seems like it. But I still think land roads are more reliable. When you get involved with science, I hear you can’t prepare spells to prevent people from fleeing…Whoops, this must be hard to talk about right now. Sorry about that.”

“No, don’t be. I do agree, though, that the airplane did feel quite cramped.”

“Really? I knew it. It’s like they’re trying to just brute force everything into the air with airplanes. I mean, I hear if there’s a hole in it, the difference in air pressure will cause the whole thing to fall apart in midair. I know there are different rules when you’re really high up, but it’s still scary. Balloons, on the other hand, are something I’d enjoy a nice, relaxed trip in.”

“Balloons are a very similar form of air travel to airplanes.”

“Oh, really? Well, either way, that’s their field, so I guess I won’t have much to do with them, anyway. Ah, looks like we’re here.”

The change in inertia caused Agnes’s body to wobble slightly. The donkey-drawn carriage had stopped. Her eyes moved from the window to the double doors in the back of the cart.

As she stared at the still-unopened exit, she said, “So that’s where we were going…La Regina del Mare Adriatico…and the Queen’s Fleet.”

Then, as though that were the password, the door unlocked.