The hazy mist carried warm air as it slowly rose toward the roof, licking the smooth ice surface. The Tirmosians' ice-masonry skills were extraordinary—at least far beyond their tent-building abilities. Every slab of ice fit together seamlessly, and running a hand over the surface revealed no unevenness at all.
Brando soaked in the hot spring, watching the hazy mist. Just as White Mist had said, the Tirmosian guide had first brought him here to bathe and change, then arranged for him to meet the sage. After all, to the Tirmosians, meeting the sage was a sacred ritual.
He had originally thought there could hardly be any facilities for bathing on the floating ice. He had probably expected an invigorating ice-water bath. For Tirmosians, who were born with Elemental Tier power, an ice-water bath and a warm-water bath seemed to make little difference. Yet when he arrived, he discovered that this ice house built by the Tirmosians actually contained a hot spring as warm as springtime.
There was naturally no geothermal heat beneath the floating ice, so the hot spring was probably created by magic. The Tirmosians likely had no need to maintain such a hot spring constantly. This hot spring, and perhaps even the ice house itself, had most likely been prepared specifically for him.
Thinking of this, Brando could not help feeling somewhat overwhelmed by the honor. He knew why the Tirmosians respected him, but he could not help worrying that they might become enraged out of embarrassment once they learned that he actually had few resources to trade.
In one corner of the ice house sat a stone basin. The faeries had lit Meditation Incense inside it. The incense carried a faintly mysterious scent, rising in wisps from the burning ash and blending into the water vapor.
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