Two months had slipped by since they returned to Eastern Sea City, the days like waves breaking one after another, and all four of them stayed busy.

The Holy Maiden came back from her sacred tour and took on even more duties, like a tidal mantle thrown over her shoulders.

Ming Xi, now the Archbishop, went hands-off like a breeze letting go of a kite. He picked up Ming Duo, then left Eastern Sea City again.

Sanctuary affairs fell to several bishops and to Spring Tide, their desks piling like driftwood, their schedules so tight they barely dared to breathe.

Even on agreed dates, emergency summons and meetings rose like sudden squalls, and they often couldn’t make it back.

Silver Luan fully accepted her honorary standing in the Sanctuary, iron and silk braided together, and joined the Sanctuary Knights under Spring Tide’s command.

She became captain of the Holy Maiden’s Guard, a bright blade hung before the altar.

She’d told her Half Dragonkin kin long ago, and their support came like warm wind off a cold sea.

It was a boon for the Half Dragonkin lands and clans, a lighthouse for their standing, and the Sanctuary was glad to court such strength.

But if you stripped it to the bone, Silver Luan joined mostly because of Cerqin, a flame she chose to stand beside.

Aileaf became chief alchemist of the Sanctuary’s East District headquarters, a mortar and pestle set before a city of sails.

She hadn’t wanted to be flashy, just a quiet Nun by Cerqin’s side with a small lab, tinkering like rain tapping on eaves.

But after deciding to tell her people and to return someday, she chose to firm up her standing, like laying stone upon stone before facing elders.

If she earned rank within the Sanctuary, some old hardliners of the Littlefolk kingdom would have to hold their tongues.

Cerqin, when not playing with the two of them by turns, poured every drop of fire into Arcanotechnology, like oil feeding a lamp.

Worth noting, after the Sanctuary took White Thought in, she shed the plain Nun’s robe like a chrysalis, and joined the new Arcanotechnology department.

She officially became Cerqin’s assistant, two minds weaving one loom.

The scarred woman White Feather was also free of the prisoner’s brand, her shackles falling like dry leaves.

But White Feather had no gift for arcanotech. At Fifth Rank, she was only average among Nuns and Knights at the East District headquarters.

Most days, when not in the Knights’ routine drills, she was glued to White Thought, two shadows laced together like ivy.

In these two months, Cerqin didn’t just deepen and diversify restraints and instruments. She also made household arcanotech tools that filled life like warm light.

But her main focus stayed on improving arcanotech carriages and, using that upgraded power, a new line of personal vehicles, like a new road sketched on air.

Big projects don’t yield like summer reeds. She was stuck at several key nodes, dammed like a river in thaw, with no first prototype yet.

Thanks to Cerqin’s uncanny knack and her merit in the long-range communication network, the new Arcanotechnology department placed her at the helm, a tiller in steady hands.

She shifted from the Holy Maiden’s close-hand Nun to a real power within the Sanctuary, a lantern lifted higher in the wind.

Though she’d studied for less than a year, her works and her breadth already stood at heights no one in the Holy Dragon Empire could touch, like a peak above clouds.

That came from arcanotech’s applied nature. Once you step in, you run like a stream; mid- and low-tier studies now cross-pollinated like orchards in bloom.

Much of the field still modified what already existed, a craft of chisels, not earthquakes.

To go further needed storms of effort. A brand-new vehicle built on higher foundations asked years, not days.

With progress stalled lately, Cerqin decided to rest. She planned to pull Silver Luan or Aileaf out for a day’s wandering, like kites let loose.

Why not Spring Tide? With Ming Xi away, Spring Tide was swamped, a desk under winter snow, no time to play.

“If the three of us go out without her, Spring Tide’s gonna be mad.”

“Can’t help it. She’s buried. We can’t drag her out.”

“Heh, what a pity.”

“Say that again to her face and she’ll sock you.”

They left the Sanctuary laughing, breath steaming like pale threads. The weather turned cold. Eastern Sea City, close to the north, greeted Deep Winter each year with snow.

It was the best time to watch it fall, like petals over ink.

Cerqin chose today because the city’s Day of Deep Winter almost always brought snow, a promise sealed like a wax stamp.

From the way the air bit, tonight’s snow felt nailed in, ironclad and blue.

She planned to loop the markets first, then watch the snowfall when night draped the streets like velvet.

The market was livelier than usual. The Night Banquet and the Snow Watching Rite on Deep Winter’s Day were famous along the coast, a beacon across harbors.

Many arrived early just to see that winter snow, like pilgrims to a blue miracle.

It was still early. The sky hung dull and heavy, like wet wool, unlike the market’s bright clamor. The three wandered stall to stall, pausing like birds along a fence.

“How about this one?”

Silver Luan held a silver flower hairpin, smiling like blossoms after rain.

“I think this suits you better.”

Cerqin barely glanced, then picked another piece from the tray.

It was a silver sword hairpin. A dragon’s claw clutched a round pearl at the hilt, and faint scale-work ran under the metal sheen, bold as thunder.

“This doesn’t look girly at all.”

“Why do you think you’re girly, Silver Luan?”

Cerqin shot the quip, then felt the chill. She tried to step back, but a Fifth Rank won’t outrun a Seventh Rank gust.

A hand pinned her shoulder almost instantly. Silver Luan, once in front, was suddenly behind, voice low and dry as she frowned.

“Who’re you calling not girly?”

Backed into a corner, Cerqin kept her mouth brave, a cat with puffed tail.

“That part’s not girly. Scary as heck.”

“Hmph.”

Smack—

Cerqin clutched her backside, eyes wet as dew. Passersby glanced over, puzzled by the crack of sound.

On the other side, Aileaf lifted the flower hairpin Silver Luan had put down, exasperation soft as rain on tiles.

“You two, cut it out. People everywhere. Have you no shame?”

Then Aileaf shifted tone and turned to Cerqin, sliding the flower pin into her hair like a petal set in place.

“Well? How is it, Cerqin?”

“…”

Cerqin glanced at Silver Luan’s eyes and that hand rising again, swallowed, and squeaked.

“I-it’s fine?”

“Great. I’ll take it.”

“…”

“Then I want this one. Cerqin, you’re paying.”

Silver Luan pouted, then stuck the sword hairpin in her hair, a blade above a smile.

“Fine, fine, I’ll pay.”

Anything, as long as she didn’t throw hands in public.

Her shame had blown away long ago like a hat in wind, but under the skirt there was nothing. If a scuffle made Silver Luan skip the clothes barrier, the outing was sunk.

The stall lady watched their flirting and had a sudden look of dawning, like a lantern catching.

“How about trying these? New from the Anser Trading Company. Super popular up north and even in the capital.”

She pointed to a box of items in various shapes, lined up like shells on sand.

Plenty of stalls carried them now. Cerqin remembered them well, since they were built to her blueprints, lines she’d sketched by lamplight.

“Uh…”

Cerqin traded looks with Silver Luan and Aileaf. She rubbed her head, then managed a line.

“We’ve already got those, so we’ll pass.”

“Oh, you’ve got them? Right, they’re great. I love using them too.”

“Mm-hmm.”

After a long enthusiastic spiel from the stall lady, the three slipped away like minnows.

“Vendors in Eastern Sea City really don’t have boundaries.”

“Agreed.”

“Comes with a merchant city.”

Still rattled, Cerqin rubbed the corner of her mouth, a half-smile tugging like a hook.

The An Sisters’ Anser Trading Company was in a boom, a geyser of coin and carts.

Cerqin provided blueprints and seed funds, and used Spring Tide’s Sanctuary channels to grease the wheels, a riverbed carved for flow.

By now the company’s name was well-known in the north for spirit-beast arcanotech trinkets and magical potions, like a brand stamped on wind.

“Didn’t An Ya say they’d open a shop here in Eastern Sea City?”

As the recipe provider, Aileaf was a pillar of the company. With shares in hand, she still asked now and then, like a gardener checking weather.

Most things fell to Cerqin, and Cerqin was hands-off too, a kite flier watching the string. So day-to-day ran under the An Sisters’ care.

“Yeah. But it won’t be quick. We’ll finalize the site when they get here.”

Northfort sat far from Eastern Sea City, a mountain and a sea away. Even with fast growth, short hands and thin lines meant time was needed.

Before that, small caravans hauled goods south like ants, though the prices rose like foam.

Cerqin still hadn’t seen any knockoffs. Simple arcanotech books were trending, but learners were few, and mastery didn’t come like spring grass.

Moments like this, she felt the capital’s scholars and mages griping about her talent like a draft under the door, chilly but real.

“In a few months, the long-distance city-to-city network should start full rollout. Then it’ll be easier to keep in touch.”

“Yeah, a lot easier. We won’t need couriers to carry blueprints.”

“Cerqin, you’re working on that new vehicle, right? How’s it going?”

Aileaf’s eyes sharpened into a researcher’s gaze, bright as steel. Cerqin reached out, pinched her cheeks, and kneaded the sternness away.

“I’m stuck at some key nodes. Need inspiration, like lightning. For intercity travel, I mailed the Eldest Princess a redesign to improve links.”

“But it needs heavy funding. Not sure it’ll pass.”

Infrastructure doesn’t win cheers. The royal court rarely backed thankless roads and wires, rain without drums.

Cerqin didn’t believe a blueprint and a letter would sway His Majesty of the Holy Dragon Empire.

“All right, you two, enough shop talk. We came out to play.”

Silver Luan grumbled, carefully tucked her hairpin into her storage gear, then grabbed Cerqin’s hand like catching a kite.

“Let’s go, let’s go.”

“Hey, wait, slow down.”

They wandered most of the day. Dusk bled in like ink in water.

The streets grew even livelier. Lanterns bloomed everywhere, a river of fire. The parade began the moment pale-blue snow started to fall.

Eastern Sea City’s Day of Deep Winter was famous for this fixed yearly snowfall, the Azure Snow, as steady as a bell toll.

Snow laced with ocean magic drifted down, a briny whisper on every flake.

“So beautiful.”

“This is the famous snow of Eastern Sea City?”

Aileaf sighed, her breath curling like mist.

“The earliest name was Sea Emperor’s Tears. People say Eastern Sea City took its name from that. Legend says a dragon fell by the shore and made a miracle.”

“As far as I know, that’s not just a legend.”

Silver Luan spoke then, her voice even as a drawn blade.

“In our Half Dragonkin records, a mighty divine dragon did fall by that coast. But the blue snow isn’t tied to it. It’s the sea’s magic make-up.”