May 19, Iris Flower Kingdom, Les Herbiers.
At twelve noon, the weather was clear and scorching hot.
Alice de Harcourt was not wearing the daring outfit she usually wore for her work as a journalist. Instead, she had changed into a well-behaved dress fit for a princess and was sitting inside a carriage.
The dress was dark green, with a hymn written in Elven Language embroidered across it in golden thread. Its hem was trimmed with white lace. She wore white stockings made with elven craftsmanship, making her look like an oversized doll... well-behaved and quiet, and several years younger than usual.
She leaned against the carriage window with her eyes narrowed, looking peaceful and lovely.
Suddenly, the carriage jolted to a stop, and the rocking motion woke her.
"We've arrived, miss."
The coachman said this.
Alice got out of the carriage. The early-summer sunlight was too dazzling, leaving her slightly dizzy.
At noon, people walked through the streets and alleys. Street performers sang at the tops of their voices, performing a highly orthodox opera aria. Children gathered around her, their eyes seeming to sparkle.
On another street not far away, she could see a minstrel playing the violin on a raised platform. It had originally been a diversion platform used to prevent charges during riots, and many sandbags meant for barricades were still piled on it. Now, however, it had become a crude personal stage.
Behind the minstrel, among the crowd that had stopped to listen to the music, a childish-looking pickpocket could be seen stealing a few banknotes from the pocket of an old gentleman holding a walking stick.
Seagulls cawed overhead, and the aroma of food drifted through the streets. Freshly fried potato sticks and crêpes came with cheerful cries from the vendors, and Alice felt a