"Vivianna, is that really you?"
"You've gotten so old."
Vivianna lowered her eyes with a faint sigh, unsure whether she was remembering the child who had once run after her or recalling the resentment in young William's furious roar: "You stole my glory."
"This is impossible. I must be dreaming!"
William could hardly believe it. Vivianna had been missing for more than thirty years.
Yet those thirty-odd years had left no trace on her face. She still wore that hood crowned with fallow deer antlers, her smooth skin seeming to gleam with reflected fluorescence.
The Candle Knight slowly approached, carrying that familiar, faintly sweet scent of marigolds.
She raised a hand, gently intending to stroke William's cheek, but the new Elector Prince—usually domineering, arbitrary, and even somewhat arrogant—instinctively recoiled. The "Marshal's Baton" bearing the imperial eagle in his hand struck the campaign cot, and he toppled backward in a fluster.
"What could possibly be impossible? Since you used the contract, you should know where I went."
Vivianna caught the Elector Prince before he fell and straightened his collar, which had become exceptionally rumpled from days spent curled up on the campaign cot.
They were very close. William could see her clear blue eyes, her long lashes, and the gentle yet valiant line of her nose. He could also feel her warm breath.
In a daze, the Elector Prince remembered his childhood, when he had run everywhere after Vivianna. Whenever he fell, she would straighten his clothes just like this, sparing him his father's scolding.
"It really is you."
"Babel Tower..."
William muttered to himself. For that giant vessel said to wander through the river of old days, a mere thirty years was but the flick of a finger.
His eyes grew moist. The resentment born in his youth—his jealousy that