A street vendor handed Annan a skewer of grilled meat dusted with spices.
Annan took a satisfied bite and answered Olin's puzzled look. "I'm not eating food. I'm reliving a memory."
"...I'll have one too."
Perhaps Annan's mood had moved her, or perhaps it was The Mage Tower's Fall. Olin, who had seemed sad since leaving the Theater, bought a skewer and stood beside Annan on the street, taking a bite without a trace of noble decorum.
"I don't taste anything special."
"Because it's my memory."
Magic Films and food were among the few things that made Annan homesick. But just as film adaptations changed their stories beyond recognition, this grilled meat carried unfamiliar spices. Each reminded him of the same thing—he could never go back.
"I always thought you were like the other Lords."
The Magic Film had shown Olin another side of Annan—one with a charm she hadn't expected.
"Let's go to the Procurement Department."
With a fortune on him, Annan found everyone's intentions suspicious.
Olin took out a handkerchief and elegantly wiped her mouth before mounting her warhorse and heading for the Empire's Procurement Department. Now and then, she slowed down to study Annan by the carriage window, as though comparing him to a hazy figure in her memory.
The Empire's Procurement Department looked like an anvil. The footsteps of imperial officials in regulation leather boots lent the place a solemn air.
Olin led Annan to the hall on one side of the Anvil.
It seemed less spacious inside because it had been divided into reception rooms. Everyone entering or leaving the hall was either a noble or a wealthy merchant.
Olin fetched Annan a pale-gold wooden token. Unlike the others, it had no number.
"Go into any room and tell the supply officer what you want."