Pillar of Yita

Fang Hong opened the door, and outside stood Hilveld.

”Good evening, Mr. Ade, I hope I’m not disturbing you?” the girl said, her eyes gentle and serene like the moonlight filtering through the forest, reminiscent of Elves crafting that brilliant gemstone in Irean.

The forest was becoming bright.

The girl’s long hair gleamed like finely crushed gold, the tip of her nose had the sheen of jade, and her cherry-colored lips held the secrets of stars and flowers. She tilted her head slightly upward, her face bathed in moonlight, appearing like an Elf in the woods.

”I’d like to borrow a blanket, Miss Atira said you have some here.”

Atira was on night watch duty today, and Hilveld and her maid had pitched a tent at the lookout’s Carry House.

”Ah, yes,” Fang Hong answered, ”I’ll go get it for you.”

He turned back into the house, took a spare blanket from the closet, and after a moment’s thought, realized he had forgotten something and picked up the delicate doll girl. Turning back, he handed both items to Hilveld.

”By the way, I’ve been meaning to return this to you,” he said.

The girl, cradling the blanket, took the doll girl with a hint of surprise, carefully combing the doll’s silver hair with her fingers. Fang Hong had never seen such a finely crafted figure before and found himself utterly captivated.

She wore a translucent white dress, neither too sparse nor too lavish, fitting just right, standing poised and elegant under the moon, like a blooming orchid.

Hilveld gently placed the doll’s silver hair in her hands and looked up. ”In my family, age-old legends have been passed down about the Fairy Master, said to be both mysterious and esteemed. There are many stories about them along the Grey Sea Coast. You are a Fairy Master too, Mr. Ade, could we have a chat?”

Fang Hong felt he had heard similar words before, in a forest likewise bathed in moonlight, where soft light danced with shadows, and a beautiful, intelligent girl had said to him:

”A conversation has to start somewhere, doesn’t it?”

For a moment he was lost in thought, a touch of heartache stirring within him. Seeing Fang Hong’s absent-mindedness, Hilveld seemed a bit surprised herself. After a while, Fang Hong sighed. ”What would Miss Hilveld like to talk about?”

”Just curious,” Hilveld said. ”Mr. Ade is a Fairy Master, so why would you return this fairy to me?”

Fang Hong scratched his head, ”This has nothing to do with being a Fairy Master, this is Miss Hilveld’s belonging, after all.”

”But whether it is a person or a thing, it only blooms with astonishing beauty when it’s with someone who understands it, radiant and dazzling.” Hilveld looked at the doll girl resting in her arms. ”And I am not a Fairy Master; in my care, she would just be a pearl gathering dust.”

”I didn’t think that much about it,” Fang Hong admitted, feeling somewhat awkward around the beautiful girl, and confessed rather shyly, ”I haven’t been completely indifferent, if Miss Hilveld doesn’t mind, I wouldn’t refuse at all.”

”Of course, I mind, Mr. Ade,” Hilveld replied with a light smile, playfully winking at him, ”This was left to me by my father, thank you for returning her to me.”

”Oh—” Fang Hong was sorely vexed, but since it was a family heirloom, he couldn’t just claim it for himself, could he?

”Miss Hilveld, your father is?”

”I was born into an inconsequential craftsman family,” Hilveld humbly responded, ”I did not inherit my father’s craft, and am ashamed even to mention the name.”

If her words were true, Fang Hong thought, she might be from the Westwood-Sibika family. The Westwood Family’s Rose Workshop was one of the oldest Fairy Workshops in Colin Ishurian’s history, undoubtedly a family of craftsmen. As for being inconsequential—well, that’s debatable.

”Why did Mr. Ade come to the First World?” Hilveld asked with a hint of meaning.

But Fang Hong misunderstood her, and after considering the question, simply replied, ”Because I like it, it’s that simple. I dream of it, so I must pursue it.”

”Like it?” Hilveld gave him an odd glance. She couldn’t help thinking that this man was not very forthright. What exactly he liked was debatable.

”So what is Mr. Ade’s dream?” the girl feigned a bit of curiosity.

”To have a ship and sail to the Second World.” Fang Hong confessed openly, feeling no shame: ”Of course, I’d also set up an Adventure Group—I’ve even thought of a name, it would be called Morning Dawn Star.”

If Miss Sicape were here, she would likely have cracked his head open—did you come up with that name? But here, only stars and moon, owl and forest, the girl and the flowers swaying in the darkness were quietly listening to this ideal.

”That’s a very interesting dream, Mr. Ade,” Hilveld chuckled, covering her mouth with her hand.

”And what about Miss Hilveld?” Fang Hong couldn’t help being curious, discussing life aspirations with a beautiful girl under the starlight, a first for him.

”Well,” Hilveld smiled lightly, ”I don’t have any grand aspirations, but perhaps I have a surprising connection with Mr. Ade.”

Her voice was ethereal, soft and quiet, not too assertive. Fang Hong enjoyed hearing her speak, and without thinking, he asked, ”Huh—?”

Hilveld evaded a direct answer. ”If Mr. Ade likes ships, why not visit the shipyard in Elpaxin? Elpaxin owns the most famous shipyard in the seven-city region and has the most experienced craftsmen.”