The grey-blue sky, the yellowing grassland, and the granular sandy soil; two horses pulling the cart, taking steps on the earth, viewed from above it looks like a tiny dot moving slowly.

The wheels sway and fluctuate with the clumping roots and soil beneath, and on the cart, Guy leans against a stack of hay behind him, holding a whistle. The sharp and urgent sound of the wooden whistle changes from time to time, bringing forth a somewhat bleak tune.

Hexia sits in the back of the cart now, also leaning against the haystack with Ores, her gaze distant, contemplating many things.

She wonders about the changes in the Federation since she and Ores left, and the newborn races she's encountered lately have brought her substantial reflection.

If the historical background of the Fifth Season Origin and those excessively brutal scenes are set aside, apart from genetic differences with humans, the newborn races show no significant distinction in many habits. Some species that are barely different from native humans are almost indistinguishable.

If not for that chunk of history, the current civilization might accommodate. But unfortunately, the past lessons are too devastating, casting shadows and pressures over the Federation.

She is not arrogant enough to save all lives, just pondering what would happen if, back in the Fifth Epoch, they didn't follow the 'Black Sun' path but applied evolution and change to humanity itself.

Might it have been better, or perhaps worse? She shakes her head, halting those thoughts.

Always feeling overly sentimental about the past, she considers more immediate matters instead, like how to sell the fur coat at a good price and find a temporary place to stay at Shilin Mountain Castle.

Even though Ores doesn't mind, Tilan still thinks she should buy some comfortable cotton clothes for her, besides preparing a cozy bed and house if they are to live long-term, at least not always a straw bed and a cave.

Meanwhile, Guy's whistle gradually ceases, and then he and Flan exchange idle words, venting the tediousness of the journey.

"Not bad at all, did you study it?" Flan, not holding his usual notebook, has one hand on the reins, leaning against the haystack.

"Learned from an old hunter before; he also taught me dog training and hunting methods." Guy replies.

"That's great."

"Mm, indeed he was a good old man, except for being somewhat fond of liquor and swearing." Guy recalls.

"What about Flan, does your Slami Association teach instruments too?"

"Instruments...," Flan hesitates as if recalling something.

"Unfortunately, music isn't much favored there; I've only seen a female classmate play the violin at a graduation ceremony."

"You probably don't know the violin; it's quite complex and exquisite, but I lack the words to depict its charm."

"That's rather regrettable." Guy doesn't mind and the two maintain their conversation.

"What do you eat in the south; is it wheat flour as well?"

"It's similar; there is a lot of wheat flour but also rice and other foods."

"The association has a dedicated electric mill; the flour it produces is very fine. We ferment and bake it into bread, often accompanied by fish and occasionally vegetables and fruit."

"The Slami Association is by the sea, and a few years ago, I heard they were about to set up coastal fish farms, improving everyone's diet greatly. In his youth, the association didn't have such abundant meat." Flan reminisces.

"Fish soup with rice is delicious. During my school years, it was my favorite and more cost-effective too."

"You still go to school?" Guy has only seen small schools for the Grey Feather Species in Shilin Mountain Castle, typically just a few scholars with around 20 students.

"Yes, members under the association must receive at least three years of education before adulthood to learn basic literacy and essential skills."

"Ideal societal setup indeed; if only I had been born in such a place." Guy expresses with some envy.

"Haha, it's indeed better than many impoverished areas, but it's not free. After graduation, we have to run errands for the association and complete various assigned tasks."

"It might take over ten years of wandering before we could return home and gradually settle down." Flan stretches lazily.

"At least there's a place to return to." Guy remarks, adjusting his posture and the cart's direction so it doesn't deviate from the main route.

"I don't even know where I'll die."

"Most people I knew I ended up burying, and maybe in the future someone might collect my body."

"That's rather melancholic; even I'm getting worried." Flan shakes his head.

"Why not envision finding someone you like, having many children, and passing your days peacefully, watching the sun set as you sleep away."

"Such dreams, I dare not imagine, fearing the stark contrast with reality would make me too despondent."

"The only lesson I've learned over the years is to lower my expectations and hopes for everything, thus avoiding hurt and sadness."

"I see...," Flan rests against the swaying haystack, eyes half-open.

"...it's also an answer." He begins to nap.