Evgeni: It's me.
Windsong: Oh, you!
Evgeni: I want to talk.
Windsong: I was just about to look for you, Comrade Evgeni. I've found more details!
Windsong: Here.
Windsong turns away and begins to search through the mountainous piles of documents.
Windsong: Trust me, they will ease your mind, more or less.
A cold wind rushes between them through the open window.
Evgeni: Let's skip to the point.
Evgeni: I want you to stop your research.
Windsong: What?
Evgeni: Our exploration has only just started, yet many of our people have already been hurt.
Evgeni: Can you promise there won't be further injuries, or worse, before we've found this fairy-tale treasure?
Evgeni: Your so-called new resource is still unconfirmed, yet the price we've paid looking for it is already mounting. We had other options, safer options for all of us.
The snow has turned to wet rain; it splashes up from the windowsill and on to her as they speak.
Windsong: We just need to be better prepared. We will arm ourselves with more knowledge for next time.
Evgeni: I know what you're after here: the study of ley lines, right?
Evgeni: The people here may be enthusiastic, but they are only laymen. I've spoken with someone who can help you far more.
The unhurried steps of expensive boots mark an unfortunately familiar guest.
Bertolt: It is good to see you, Ms. Windsong.
Bertolt: Our proud scholar of a budding, if still informal, school.
His expression is genuine and surprised, as though this is the first time they've ever met.
Windsong: And you, the Big Shot from Zeno. Should I feel flattered you stopped by?
He feigns obliviousness to Windsong's teasing.
Bertolt: I read your files, as Mr. Evgeni suggested.
Bertolt: You know already that Zeno has investigated many arcane cases and been deployed to many places related to arcanum, but we have never met anyone quite as obsessive in their study as you are.
Windsong: What now? Have the big shots decided they are going to trust my studies?
Bertolt smiles. He always smiles, brimming with all the joy of a crocodile.
Bertolt: Well, while I might admire your perseverance myself, no, they're not convinced.
Bertolt: We just wonder what you and your school have gained from this long journey?
He looks past her, assessing the mounds of scattered papers.
Windsong: Enough with the crap.
Bertolt: As you wish. First, I believe you owe Comrade Evgeni some thanks.
Windsong: Huh?
A fresh letter of recommendation is handed to Windsong.
Bertolt: The less than satisfactory results from your study may not have earned this letter from Zeno, but Comrade Evgeni insisted on us offering it to you.
Bertolt: Once you have our recommendation, you will be able to communicate with all the renowned scholars in our lab. Your long wait for recognition will be over. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
His tone is calm. His victory is assured.
Evgeni: All I ask is stop this farce.
Windsong: Heh!
Windsong: Well, I am so grateful. I think I might cry.
Windsong: All we have to do is wait for Zeno's grace to be bestowed on us. We should be moved to tears by your mercy, no?
Bertolt: Putting aside your sarcasm, I would suggest you consider the danger of throwing away this opportunity.
Bertolt: You are wasting time, effort, maybe even lives on some foolish wild goose chase. We can offer the people here a much safer and more feasible way forward. Don't you see?
Bertolt raises an eyebrow. He presents his case less as reason than as indisputable truth.
Windsong: And what about Rayashki?
He looks at her pitifully.
Bertolt: All things come to an end. It will disappear quietly, overtaken by the wilds of this land, when the time comes.
Bertolt: At least, it may leave a small place in the historical records.
Bertolt: No offense intended, Mr. Evgeni.
Evgeni: We cannot solve the problems we're having without Zeno's help.
Windsong: All of these problems will be solved as long as we find this new resource.
Bertolt: Ahem! I'm afraid you're mistaken, Ms. Windsong.
Bertolt: As far as Zeno is concerned, the value of this land is exhausted, fairy-tale resources notwithstanding. Once we've transferred the arcanists away, Rayashki will be abandoned.
The crocodile smile cracks again, growing annoyed at his now long-overdue victory.
Bertolt: We are aware of the danger that staying here poses to these people, and it is our responsibility to save them. Whether they wish to resist us or not. That's the only reason for our decision, understand?
Windsong: ...!
Windsong sets down the ley energy chart, the culmination of her countless efforts, without saying a word.
Bertolt: Let's be practical.
Bertolt: Zeno has many outstanding young people, a strong academic atmosphere, a better future. You will get your opportunity to revive your school of ley lines, if you pass the exam.
Windsong: ...
Her fingers press onto the paper, tracing a newly embossed seal.
The "carrot" is sweeter and more fragrant than before.
How long now had she imagined this moment?
In dim, stuffy basements, in underpaid editorial offices, under faceless, nameless, scrutinizing gazes.
Bertolt: This will be a better choice for all of you.
Windsong: Haha.
Windsong: Mr. Big Shot, could you use your rusted brain to think of a more noble reason than consumerism and elitism?
Windsong: Do you really think our desire for a better life is the only reason why we refuse to leave?
Windsong: You used ordinary people as a stepping stone to power and privilege, and even now you take our sacrifices for granted.
Bertolt: Reality is cruel: not you, not Rayashki, and not even Zeno can save everyone. You will have to deal with that.
Bertolt: You should take what is to come as an inevitable optimization of our society's development.
Windsong: I know. Life may still get harder even if we find this new resource.
Windsong: So what?
The defiance in her voice reignites her long-lost courage.
Windsong: Your brand of elitism may have invaded every corner of the world, but not this town, not yet.
Bertolt: I see, most scholars like you hold the same naivete.
Windsong: They refuse to leave any of their "comrades" behind, even if the price is their own future.
Evgeni: ...
Windsong: What we would sacrifice ourselves for is not the study of ley lines, or any other personal goals.
Windsong: But our dream to thrive together!
Windsong: To live in a bright future we all can share!
Windsong: As for this ...
She scrunches up his gaudy recommendation.
Windsong: I don't need it.
Bertolt: ...!
Bertolt: spits A leopard never changes its spots.
Bertolt leaves his final words hanging in the room, departing without looking back.
The crumpled letter rolls out of the window. It lands in the snow, slowly being covered until there is no trace of it left.
Will things get better?
Windsong, too preoccupied to care, slumps back in her chair, gulping in the crisp air of her new world.
Evgeni: I envy your innocence, Ms. Windsong.
Evgeni: For many years, I believed that our mission was to change the world.
Evgeni: But when I looked up, the gate to the new world was already closed. Little Rayashki just coasted along, and I tried to keep everything the way it was.
Evgeni: But I failed.
Evgeni: Rayashki is doomed. All our efforts, our will, our dreams—nothing can change the creeping reality. We attempted to achieve something meaningful, something that could make history, but ...
Evgeni strains to lift his head, his face obscured in a kind of darkness beyond the reach of light.
Evgeni: The spirit of the times stands against what we are building here, not just Zeno, but the whole world.
Evgeni: That's what reality is like: boring, cruel, disappointing.
The scene falls into a wordless, motionless quiet.
After a long while, Windsong rises.
She has shed all other burdens, and the tantalizing carrot is gone.
Windsong: You are too pessimistic, Comrade Evgeni.
Evgeni: Huh?
Windsong: Zeno has tried to recruit me several times. Do you know what I've learned from all their efforts?
Windsong: They don't want us to explore that mine.
Windsong: They belittled our efforts, offered pity for Rayashki, and then planned out a promising future for us.
Windsong: Yet they didn't give us a hand, even when our people were injured or died.
Windsong: Do you really think they are so eager to stop us just because they don't want any more sacrifices?
Evgeni: ...!
Windsong: Of course not, my friend.
Windsong: A lesson I learned from living in their society ...
Windsong: Never do what your enemies want you to do.
She grasps his shoulder, giving it a shake to pull him up to his senses.
Windsong: Zeno is afraid of us.
Windsong: They are afraid that we may discover a new kindling to relight our fire, that we may burn so brightly that we grow out from their control to create our own future.
Evgeni: You ...
Windsong: But they can't have it their way. Rayashki belongs to us, as does the future!
Faint flickers of that fire seem to be there, somewhere in the man before her.
Evgeni looks up with a complex expression.
Evgeni: I, I will give it some thought, Ms. Wi- ... Comrade Windsong.
