Lingcai still said yes to Xia, like a leaf yielding to the current.

Seven days—seven drumbeats—to find a way to trace where that busted cannon tube was made.

Even if she failed, maybe it wouldn’t matter, like a cloud that drifts and thins.

She soothed herself with that thought, then carried the list of Brunkia’s former ministers back to Kelor’s side, like a sealed winter scroll tucked in her sleeve.

Kelor looked up with a slanted glance, a blade-thin eye, not happy in the slightest.

Xueyu stood silent beside her, fan lifting air like a pale moon, while Kelor slumped into the chair like a tired cat.

Kelor kept that sidelong stare, snorted, and let her words fall like a cold pebble into water. “Back already?”

So you didn’t want me back… The thought trailed like a thin ribbon of smoke.

Lingcai had no idea which way the wind was blowing around Kelor today. Seeing the sky over her mood still clouded, she held her tongue and simply handed over the list, paper light as a reed.

“Uh… this, for you. Princess Sia said to give it to you. It’s a list of rebel old ministers.”

Kelor answered dully, ash-damp voice. “Got it. Leave it there.”

Lingcai set the letter on the little tea table, then sidled closer to Xueyu like a cat to a warm stove, whispering into her ear.

“What’s with Her Highness today?”

Xueyu sighed deep, wind through bamboo, and murmured back.

“Don’t even start. A dispatch just came—sects are spreading through the townships. Unknown cults stirring trouble, bewitching hearts, fighting the National Guard. Chaos like weeds after rain.”

One wave smooths, another rises; trouble rolls in like a tide.

Lingcai sighed inside. Thank heaven she wasn’t born into the imperial house, or she’d be dragging nets through stormy seas every day with this grimy mess.

Then a prickle ran cold. She lowered her voice again.

“Wait—didn’t she hand the Regency to Princess Sia? If it’s not her problem to fix, why’s she mad?”

Before Xueyu could answer, Princess Korol’s voice drifted out like smoke.

“You really think exile lets me wash my hands of everything? Want to guess where they exiled me?”

What’s there to guess… who could guess… The thought thumped like a stone into fog.

Kelor saw Lingcai knew nothing, so she laid the cards down like fallen leaves.

“I’ll tell you. They sent me to the Seven Northern Towns—Xia’s old post. Now Xia’s been moved to take the Regency, and someone has to replace her, right? On a chessboard, that’s called castling. The court’s more stable now, so Xia takes the steadier Regency, and I go—under the banner of exile—to the Seven Northern Towns to handle the border rebels. And now the cults are ravaging the north. They left me a whole barn of trash to sweep.”

She covered her face with both hands and sighed, a bell struck in a small room.

So that’s how it is—like stones finally locking into place.

No wonder the Elven King waved and exiled his own daughter, pushing the boat with one hand; there was this layer to it.

The more Kelor spoke, the hotter she burned. She shot up and slammed her cup down, thunder inside a room.

“There shouldn’t have been this much! It’s all because, besides war and wrecking things, she knows nothing! I don’t even know how she’s a princess! The Seven Northern Towns were fine, then in Xia’s hands you get old loyalists stirring and cults running wild. A useless pastry like Xia deserves to be branded a sinner for life in the chronicles!”

Lingcai felt Kelor went too far; from earlier, Princess Sia hadn’t seemed that bad. But the two were oil and fire, and Kelor was mid-storm, so Lingcai bit her tongue, the hook set, and kept quiet.

Xueyu kept fanning hot coals into a gentler breeze, her voice even as water.

“All right, Your Highness. Anger won’t help now. Once we reach the Seven Northern Towns, we’ll see. There are more ways than problems. We’ll solve it, won’t we?”

Kelor cooled a little, but still flicked Xueyu a knife-edge glare.

“Easy for you. It’s not your headache.”

As her bodyguard, Xueyu knew her little princess’s temper by heart. She bowed to the wind and played along, grass bending smooth.

“Yes, yes, it shows how formidable you are. Xia’s nothing. The pile she can’t fix is a mountain. It all rests on our princess, right?”

Kelor’s anger finally melted. She awkwardly pushed Xueyu’s fan aside like nudging a kitten.

“Shoo, shoo… Don’t call it ‘our house’ so sweet. Makes my skin crawl.”

Lingcai’s thought rose like a bubble; she remembered the cannon.

“Also, Princess Sia said a batch of cannons is moving through private channels, shipped from home to the rebels’ camp.”

“Figures—there are Brunkia loyalist moles still inside the arsenals.” Kelor sounded like she’d known all along, face calm as stone. “If Xia wants to catch moles, let her. Dozens of arsenals across the land—needle in the ocean. Let her search; it’ll drive her mad.”

She even sounded pleased, sparks dancing; their duel had been blazing a long time.

Lingcai hesitated, a moth flirting with a lamp, wondering if she should tell Kelor that Princess Sia had asked her to trace the cannon’s origin.

After circling the thought, better not offend the princess right in front of her. She moved like on thin ice and told Kelor the story.

“Princess Sia knows I’m an Alchemist… She asked me to find where these cannons were made. Your Highness, should I not help her?”

Kelor’s ears twitched, a fox catching rustle in the grass—interest, no doubt.

“…What can you do?” She asked in a tone light as a feather, feigning indifference.

Lingcai began to explain, unrolling a scroll.

“I am an Alchemist, but I’m not as deep in metalwork as the true specialists. My fiancée’s called Scarlet Leaf; she runs a forge back home, and she’ll reach the capital tomorrow. I want to show her the cannon tube. She might read the grain, like tree rings, and find a trace.”

Kelor thought for a while, eyes drifting like a kite toward Xueyu, then back, and spoke with that awkward tug in her voice.

“…Then try. I doubt it’ll show any pattern, though.”

She felt awkward because she hadn’t planned this step. It tasted like losing to Xia, bitter seed she couldn’t spit out.

She could lose to anyone—except Xia; that would be a thorn under the nail for life.

Kelor slumped over the table, mind turning like a slow mill. Suddenly, she looked up.

“If you do find the source, how much will Xia pay you?”

Two gold ingots, bright as little suns in the palm.

But clever Lingcai wouldn’t pour that truth out; a fox keeps her grapes out of reach.

If she said it, Kelor would peg her as a coin-eyed townsfolk, eyes shining like copper.

Lingcai brushed it off with her triple deflection, three pebbles tossed into a pond.

“No idea. She didn’t say. Probably, I guess.”

Kelor sprang up like she’d seized a high ground, spark catching dry tinder.

“Ha! I knew she’s stingy! Wants work for free—shameful! Pah! A bandit, worse than a bandit! Here’s what—I’ll give you 200 silver coins now. If it works, another 200. Xueyu! Bring the silver notes!”

Seeing Kelor alight, Lingcai clicked the beads on her inner abacus.

One gold ingot is 500 silver coins. Princess Sia offered two—that’s 1,000. Kelor’s 400 is less than half.

And you call her stingy! The thought smoked like a kettle.

She kept the gripe inside. Four hundred silver isn’t small; it’s a whole month of lantern-bright play, even if you do nothing.

She hadn’t truly won, but Kelor wore a smile like warm wine, finally feeling she’d drawn even with Xia.

Seeing Kelor’s frown ease at last, Lingcai chose to bury that secret like a seed under snow.

Fine by me—let the wind blow and let her be happy.