Bermuda

Sanctus Linar, the very heart of the Raina Logia Empire and home to the imperial palace. Commonly referred to as "Holy Linar," it was more widely known as the "Imperial Capital," as it was the direct gateway to the imperial seat of power.

Above the densely packed, towering, and resplendently ornate buildings topped with domed roofs, the flags of Raina Logia fluttered high in the wind. Past the grand and colossal gates, carved with intricate designs that seemed to come alive, streets were lined with neatly arranged trees and blooming flowers.

Amidst the scenic splendor, luxurious carriages bustled through the roads, ferrying high-ranking officials in decorated uniforms and nobles in fine dress.

Unlike the frigid polar regions like Frost, the Imperial Capital stood as a beacon of sacred civilization—radiant and sophisticated. It was the political, cultural, and economic heart of Raina Logia, where the core governmental institutions under imperial authority were concentrated.

Steeped in long history and quick to react to change, the city—densely populated—spread even the slightest whisper like wildfire.

And today, the biggest story gripping the capital was that Leonardo Blaine had finally been captured by Hugo Agrizendro.

“Big news, big news! Get your paper and read all about it!”

The lively and bustling Imperial Capital was even more frenzied than usual that day. Citizens were chatting animatedly, newspapers in hand, while the paper boys sprinted through the streets more frantically than ever.

“He’s finally caught?”

“His Excellency Agrizendro made the arrest himself!”

“Of course! No matter how strong Leonardo Blaine is, he’s no match for the Commander.”

In the vast residential district—where red-roofed, yellow-brick homes stood shoulder to shoulder beside colorful commercial buildings—the capture of Leonardo was a hotter topic than the day’s fresh produce at the morning market.

A fruit vendor, claiming to have heard fantastic news, pushed special deals with flair. A tailor locked up shop briefly to dash outside and read the headlines. Even the children running through alleyways stopped in their tracks at the sound of those two names.

In the city center, just beyond the residential quarters, where towers scraped the sky and luminous buildings lined the streets, middle-aged men in fine fabrics waited for the tram while reading their papers aloud.

“So, does this count ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ as a big win for the Imperial Army?”

“Sure looks like it. First they expelled him, then acted like the Council hadn’t done a thing.”

“Careful now—talk like that’s better kept among friends.”

As mounted Imperial Knights rode by, the men went silent, clearing their throats and lowering their voices. The knights, wearing red tunics trimmed with gold, eyed them briefly before moving on.

Once the knights passed, the men let out sighs of relief just as the tram pulled up. The mana-powered tram, a mainstay of capital transit, was already bursting with passengers.

Grimacing, the men grabbed their hats and squeezed in anyway.

“Good grief, it’s like this every morning.”

“Why not bring your own carriage next time? Let me hitch a ride.”

“Easy for you to say. Even viscounts get dirty looks if they show up in a carriage nowadays.”

As the doors struggled to close behind them, the tram finally lurched forward, not waiting for stragglers. One gentleman who’d just reached the stop let out a groan of frustration as it left without him.

Across the street, in a bakery with wide tables, women in smart two-piece dresses and soldiers in black uniforms shared breakfast. The buttery scent spilled out onto the street, catching the attention of passersby.

At that moment, as Council members in white uniforms walked by, the soldiers and women briefly met their eyes. A silent standoff took place. One of the soldiers, visibly irritated, began to rise—but the woman next to him gently tugged his sleeve, and he sat back down.

On a broad avenue a bit further from the center, people gathered to read newspapers pinned up outside shop windows. The shopkeeper lugged in fresh stacks and scolded those outside.

“If you’ve read it, put it back where you found it!”

“Oh my, is this really true?”

No one paid him any mind, their attention locked on the headlines. The money basket beside the stand, where people paid to read, was already brimming.

Though annoyed, the shopkeeper couldn’t hide his satisfaction as he took the full basket inside and returned it empty—only for it to fill again within minutes.

Among the crowd, a woman with orange hair, a wide-brimmed hat pulled low, and a calf-length, worn-out dress paused in front of the shop, clutching a paper bag of medicinal herbs. She stared hard at the newspaper on display before pulling out a crumpled copy of her own.

As her eyes scanned the black print, her grip tightened. Her hand trembled.

“The Empire’s Sword Cuts Off the Empire’s Rotten Silver Arm.”

While the city celebrated the dramatic headline, the woman’s heart twisted with unease. Laughter and chatter buzzed around her like a festival.

She turned pale as she read the article. Then, suddenly, she threw the newspaper to the ground and kicked over the bin beside the stand. As attention shifted to her, she ran away, her face hidden. The startled shopkeeper rushed out to collect the scattered papers.

Onlookers, frowning at the woman’s retreating figure, helped him gather the mess.

“What’s her problem?”

“Let it go. There’s always one or two oddballs trying to ruin a good day.”

“Just another misfit.”

Clicking his tongue, the shopkeeper returned the papers to the bin. The one she had dropped was too crumpled and torn to salvage. Sighing, he carried it inside, thinking he’d toss it as scrap.

On the back page was an article filled with scathing criticism of Leonardo Blaine’s past.

****

Hugo gazed at the massive iron cage on wheels, pulled by a team of horses. It was wrapped tightly in a black tarp and sealed with all manner of mana stones and binding stones. It was flanked by battalion commanders of the Council’s Northern Branch, and Hugo rode silently behind the procession on horseback.

To reach the Imperial Capital from Frost, they had to pass through three portals—there was no direct route.

If they had used a teleportation net to instantly leap between territories, they could’ve arrived in minutes. But now they had to transport this heavy, warded cage physically. Every gate required conventional passage rather than teleportation.

The journey back was slower and harsher than the outbound trip. But thanks to the Northern Branch’s efficiency, they cleared the hazardous paths swiftly and finally arrived at the final portal to the capital.

As the cage neared the gate, the battalion commanders dismounted and saluted. Hugo dismounted in turn.

“Our escort ends here, sir. The Central Branch awaits on the other side.”

“Thank you for bringing us this far.”

“We were just doing our duty, Commander. The real work... that was all you.”

The 2nd Battalion Commander gave a glance toward the cage. No one truly knew the struggle it had taken to get the man inside. Without Hugo, they might never have managed it.

Hugo followed the officer’s gaze and then shook his head.

“It was a team effort. I couldn’t have done it alone.”

“You’re too modest, sir.”

The 3rd Battalion Commander, Moria Halipe, spoke up, her eyes lingering on the faint wound beneath Hugo’s left eye.

When they’d left the Northern Branch HQ to escort Leonardo Blaine, the man had thrashed violently, even while bound in a net. No one else could get close.

In the end, the battalion commanders and Hugo had subdued him into the cage—but in a brief moment of carelessness, Leonardo had launched a sudden strike. The gash on Hugo’s face came from that attack.

The injury wasn’t deep, but had it been even slightly higher, he could’ve lost an eye.

Normally, wounds could be healed by Recovery magic—but this one left a faint scar that resisted even magical treatment.

In time, it would fade, but the moment Leonardo Blaine marked Commander Agrizendro’s face would likely be etched into history.

After glancing at his officers, Hugo walked to the back of the cage and grabbed a metal bar barely protruding from under the tarp. With a hiss and a burst of sharp steam, an icy chill wrapped around his hand. Without his ice magic, the heat radiating from inside would’ve scorched his flesh.

The cage’s bindings were built to withstand fire attributes, but even they were straining under the heat.

Seeing the many sealing tools clamped to the cage’s frame, Hugo couldn’t help but worry. If even one failed, it would trigger a flare of destructive fire—one they might not be able to contain.

The man inside was still volatile. And with the city soon to erupt in excitement over his capture, the risk of him lashing out again remained.

“Commander, the Central Branch has completed civilian access control and is on standby.”

“...Understood.”

Flynn relayed the update from beyond the gate. Hugo nodded, though his brow remained furrowed.

He shook hands with the Northern Branch battalion commanders, thanking them sincerely. Flynn did the same, then took the reins of the horse pulling the cage and led it slowly toward the teleportation portal.

Hugo followed behind.