CHAPTER 443: ARC 6, CHAPTER 59: PALAIS CELNEIR

In any other metropolitan, the busy afternoon would have been quite the hassle to park a carriage in; fortunately, this was not the case for the River-City.

Most of the folk opted for a bicycle to pass through narrow gaps in the roads, if walking was simply not enough. Boats and gondolas along the Celine River proved sufficient transport, especially via the man-made waterways.

Guinzione Bridge Station was indeed packed, by boat or by land. The giant glass ceiling that domed above the riverway, from stables to ticketing counter was enough to reflect the bright sunlight beaming down.

However many people there were, an extra fee and some haggling on the Azure Firefly’s part was enough to bring them straight from a boat and onto a carriage towards their intended destination about half an hour away.

The bricks were so smooth, they might as well as have been marble. In contrast to the dark dreary gothics of Dolpool, the east side of Belle-Ventrialis was artistic, almost aethereal—perhaps a bit vintage as a certain blonde would put it.

What with the pale grey roads, the hues of light browns upon the architecture, the artists and statues around every major path and the vines and plants crawling up buildings, it was abundantly clear they valued culture.

And at the edge, by the seaside stood the grand jewel of the entire locale; perhaps the most crowded area they had seen yet. Facing the sea and held up by columns of marble was Palais Celneir.

Looming at least forty or so metres, each inch of the structure was engraved and chiselled with patterns. Alcoves and archways were by the dozen and there were two balcony layers on its upper floors, with balustrades held up by hundreds of small humanoid statues.

In lieu of gargoyles, perched upon the rooftops were angels with massive wings, all of it made of literal gold. The Burntish flag of red with a rising phoenix flapped by the sea-breeze atop each spire.

Beneath the majesty of the structure were inspired artists by the dozen amongst the moving crowd, hoping to gain some inspiration by the sight and the fresh salt in the air.

The road twisted around by the bay, making a roundabout around Palais Celneir itself. A barrier of chest-high columns were around the edge, where a sheer drop would certainly scatter someone across the rocky shore upon which white waves crashed.

Even the boats on the Celine River were halted by a station on the water that acted as a dam and a gate. Still, many attempted to take peeks of the sea well around Belle-Ventrialis and those who ventured too much were very quickly accosted by the authorities.

At the edge of the roundabout that faced the sea, a singular disconnected archway stood that read ’Welcome to Palais Celneir’ in stylized text engraved into stone.

Cars and carriages dropped off only the most nobles of guests, dressed to the nines, while the commonfolk would walk or cycle in.

In similar fashion, a carriage opened up for a well-dressed wolf-woman with her crimson hair half done up, who insisted on changing midway on their journey. She took in the oceanic breeze; here eyes softened, "Reminds me of home~"

Fumeko, dressed in her usual self, got off the carriage and rubbed her eye. She blinked forcefully a few times and surveyed her surroundings... "Me and you remember Kria very differently."

Hotaru glared over to her right.

Tiffany was simply slack-jawed at the sight. Her eye wandered from sight to sight, wide, filled with absolute glee as ripple after ripple of silvery-white waved up her eye- had she even blinked yet...?

Fumeko snapped her fingers a few times in front of the pale blonde’s face. "Well, Tiffy’s broken. Where’s Sobi?"

In suspenders and a striped top of black and white, was an elf with her face painted white and head under a beret. She was across from where they were and was seemingly trapped in an invisible box that was getting smaller—her panic seemed genuine.

"Good afternoon," a woman in a beige lace-up dress drifted towards them—the dress a hair’s breadth away from touching the ground.

It was ruffled, it was flowy, the middle corset was red and most of all her neck to upper chest was exposed tastefully, with a corsage of red roses on her right shoulder.

She gave a curtsy and bowed her head, upon which sat a fascinator hat over her jet-black hair done up to look like a bouquet of flowers on her left and the rest of her hair tumbled down her left shoulder.

"Detective Chesire, afternoon. We’ve not formally met; Hotaru Kinoshita," Hotaru curtsied the same and offered her hand.

"The Azure Firefly, pleasure," the detective took the redhead’s hand and gave a kiss to it. "And just Rose is find darling."

Hotaru’s ears folded back as she slowly took her hand away, a little pink in the face. "Ahem."

"I thought dad would be here. I assume you know what’s going on here then?" the brunette crossed her arms.

Detective Rose raised a brow and smirked, "Seems you were expecting me, you predict that? Anywho, to answer your question, I know a little, not too much, I’m missing some of the linking information which I presume you lot have."

"We’ll fill you in. How did you know to find us here?" Hotaru replied.

"Timing’s everything," she held her hands together and smiled. "Another was to just wait till I saw one of you obviously." She leaned in to whisper among them as the massive crowd served as enough noise cancellation. "You might wanna put up a bit of a disguise.

I’m sure Dolpool was a breeze, but now in the public eye, hmhm. This place has a history with assassinations don’t you know?" She leaned back and looked around, "Where’s the other blonde?" she gave a few pats on the head to the frozen Tiffany.

"She was asleep in the carriage," the brunette told.

"Oh."

"She’s just been a bit drained. If you haven’t heard, Jotou in all likelihood killed one of the new gods," Hotaru whispered.

For a moment, Rose’s eyes bubbled up in shock. "Impressive, if true... That’s, heh, sorry, I’ve got a hard time believing that no matter her feats."

"It is true," the redhead said proudly.

The carriage driver had to get off of the front and open the door- "Thump-THud!" "Ow!" Jotou’s fell from the door side and her shoulders hit the seat.

Her blonde hair flipped back and she hit the back of her head against the step off of the carriage. Limply she slithered out and got out on her hands and knees, groaning.

The others watched the ordeal while Asobi the mime returned, standing over the fallen blonde, "Ooo, good work on the fake fall."

Jotou fluttered her lashes a few times at the mime-magician. Her brows knitted and her head swivelled as she examined her surroundings while on the ground.

...

...

"How the hell did we end up in Europe...?"

"It’s gonna be a long day," Fumeko stared.

_

Golden brown—gold all around. The inner floor of marble reflected the golden lights that spotlighted down from the seemingly never-ending walls of bronze wall covering.

Massive ornate steps that curled and twisted led to the upper floors. Chandeliers of glass-make glittered with enchantments that sparkled the paintings across the curved ceilings.

Medallions and artefacts lined the walls, and many were staged in glass cases throughout and further behind the stairs, filled with jewels, props and awards from plays kept in pristine condition, viewed by the opulently dressed visitors.

At the front upon the crowded entry were lines of people waiting to purchase tickets at the alcoves along the wall that served as counters. There were a few signs that stated ’No entry for children aged 10 and below’.

"To marvel upon this majesty..." Tiffany stared right up at the paintings depicting infamous plays. The one she stared at in awe was of a brown-haired princess upon a tower with seven women climbing it, but one or more of each of their limbs were trapped in the bricks.

"The oldest standing opera house in the world," Hotaru took a deep breath and sighed. She did not have her wolf-ears nor tail, rather human ears and long blonde hair. "This is magnificent," she beamed from ear to ear.

"I can tell by the overwhelming smell of perfume everywhere," Fumeko was, Fumeko.

"I know why we’re here, but I’d like to enjoy it," Hotaru pouted. She turned to the black-haired cat-woman Jotou, "You must appreciate all this? The amount of painters outside even."

Jotou looked at Hotaru for a moment. ’It’s a bit uncanny when she looks human...’ "You’re right to a certain extent, though I prefer to do my art alone. Though," she examined the murals one by one with but a glance.

Each stroke of a brush had meaning behind it and with her eye, she could discern the mistakes that were kept and used to shape the rest of the artwork, making it even more unique. She smiled, "If I was lucky, maybe my future could have been in some place like this.

Maybe in my world; maybe my art. Though, considering what I was drawing back then, it was unlikely. My art now, maybe?"

"I’m sure a painting from the Thundering Blade would mean a lot," Hotaru replied.

"Hm~" Jotou closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Enough distractions; Meko’s gonna blow a gasket."

The brunette squinted, "If I knew what that meant I’d be pissed off, so I’m gonna be pissed off that you said it anyway."

"And you are?" Jotou turned towards an elf in a sparkling jade-green ballgown that had trims of black fur—her shoulders and collarbone exposed in similar fashion of Detective Chesire, hat included.

Asobi fluttered a matching fan in front of herself and her voice fell deep and sultry, "I’m a lady of the court of course dear Ms Howllett, do keep up~"

Jotou’s ears spiked and her cheeks blushed, "Keel; it’s Keel."

"Sorry," Asobi’s usual voice squeaked out.

"I wouldn’t worry ’bout naming conventions right now," Rose replied, alluding to the noisy atmosphere that echoed throughout the halls. They stood around an alcove, in front of an artwork of ten daggers struck into a dog with a top hat.

Considering every alcove had its small group of admirers, they were conspicuous enough. "Little Namora, your father and Morgana should be at the opera house in Dolpool, if they’ve not already finished investigating.

In the meantime, before we start prodding around Palais Celneir, care to fill me in on your sources and all the other details?"

They continued to tell the detective what had happened in Tourenshire and their foray with the cult and the mystery surrounding Casten Castle, while they went from art piece to art piece to passively peruse.

"You’re telling me that your information about the cult, comes from the mouth of a new god themselves?" Rose’s brows furrowed. "You really can’t have lived this long and not realize that this could be the easiest trap the cult has laid."

"Yeah, yeah, we realize that," Fumeko stated. "But we have pretty good reason to go through with it anyway," she continued to explain their collective reasoning.

Having elaborated on their current agenda, the detective took a long hard look at an upside down painting of a can of baked beans. "Everything sounds reasonable and I guess that’s a fair assessment.

Palais Celneir would be the more likely spot by all accounts. A lot of history and records got lost when the fires broke out. Some were recovered and are somewhere in Dolpool probably."

"What are these artefacts and paperwork? Of course, some group like the cult would want to obliterate-fy these sorts of things, but what porpoises did these things serve for the country?" Asobi fanned her face as the voice somehow grew a posh accent.

"Culture, history, truth, magical objects?" Jotou ventured a guess.

"The cult’s a rebellion that wants to overthrow the current government; so it’s important to them they get rid of or at least gatekeep any old information, even if it’s just an art piece," Hotaru replied.

"Which are all here in Palais Celneir, one of the beacons that kinda unnecessarily acts like a museum even though there’s literally about five others in this district alone," Rose admitted. "It’s also sitting on top of a major intersection of catacombs underground.

It’s how a lot of things were transported during and after the great fire."

"Hark now mine words, one conjectures this faction that venerates false deities lay claim sepulchres beneath the floor upon which we stand," Tiffany surmised.

Rose amusedly chuckled, "I’m afraid that’s not it darling. Any entrance into the catacombs is guarded with lock, key and enchantment. If they even attempted to get in, the entire state’d know.

Same goes for the palais itself. You spellcasters better keep it packed in, a flick of your wrist’ll trigger something somewhere. See those chandeliers?" she pointed up; they all glimmered like prisms filled with light.

Hotaru furrowed her blonde brows, "Which then begs the question, why hasn’t there been an evacuation? We warned Detective Namora ahead of time. Shouldn’t the alderman of Belle-Ventrialis issue a warning at least?"

"That’s just a bad idea. The whole nation knows about the cult, but the more the government or anyone else drums up about them, the worse it gets.

Any sort of fearmongering will only lead to panic and disarray, which is exactly what the cult wants. Hoarding, crime, corruption—everything’ll start to rise.

What’s worse is, what if your information’s wrong? What if that’s the cult’s actual ploy? Then the fearmongering gets worse; cause then people will ignore it or will care less when the warning’s real.

Justice and truth won’t save the economy of a country. What we do, we do in a delicate balance," for the usual laxed nature she presented herself with, her eyes were a bit more stern as she spoke.

"But if something does go wrong today, or tomorrow, won’t people die anyhow? We can’t save everyone, even when we are here," Asobi hid her frown with the fan.

"The lives of the few versus the lives of the many," Jotou crossed her arms and examined the painting of angels plunging into what she assumed was a depiction of hell.

"If a few people have to die, so be it," Rose smiled. "That’s the harsh reality, the sooner everyone accepts it, the better you’ll do in this line of work. Blame the problem, not how we’re forced to respond to it-"

"BFF! BZZZ!!"