Alice in the Land of Steam

Passing through that heavy steel door felt like stepping into another world.

The long, dark corridor beyond the door was etched into the stone walls on either side, every few steps a pale blue sacred lamp, its flames burning silently and casting the shadows of travelers into distorted, eerie shapes on the ground. The air was colder and more stagnant than outside, as if the silence had remained undisturbed for centuries. Each step on the smooth obsidian slabs produced a soft sound, which refracted and amplified in the narrow space, eventually becoming a hollow echo, like walking among the bones of some colossal beast.

At the end of the long corridor is a spacious inner courtyard.

This was the front courtyard of the Great Sacred Court, a place where priests and nuns usually moved about. However, when Alice and the others stepped into this courtyard, they heard no human voices, and even the sound of footsteps was so faint as to be almost nonexistent.

In the center of the courtyard stood a hexagonal stone platform, upon which burned an eternally burning, eerie blue sacred flame. The flames flickered silently, casting a cold, metallic glow upon everything around them. Around the platform, small groups of members of the Order stood or walked, dressed in heavy black robes, identical in style to the "Great Holy Court" Cecilia had previously mentioned. Young novice monks carried thick scrolls, hurrying past with their heads bowed; older priests knelt on the prayer altar at the edge of the platform, hands clasped before their chests, lips moving slightly but uttering no sound; several nuns huddled before a stone tablet, seemingly discussing something, but they only occasionally traced the inscription with their fingers, sparing each other even a single syllable.

Alice had expected that even in the coldest of places, there would at least be one or two curious or wary glances. After all, they were so out of place: foreign attire, foreign faces, and a weary, travel-worn air—everything about them seemed impossible to blend in. It's impossible for anyone to maintain such cautious restraint when a secret is so close, preferring to bury their doubts deep within rather than reveal them, but these followers of the Snowfall Order had indeed done so. The middle-aged monk closest to them held an iron incense burner, from which pungent incense wafted, silently permeating the prayers being chanted. His gaze remained calmly fixed ahead, as if he could see through the guests to a far more distant place. His memory of outsiders dates back thirty years, but those guests then and these guests before him seemed no different in his eyes—neither worthy of his attention.

"Can't they see us?" Shaymi asked softly, perched on Medion's head, for this was the only explanation that made sense.

However, this is far from the truth, since it is impossible for all the followers of the Snowfall Order to be blind and deaf.

“No.” Cecilia continued walking, replying coldly, “They are merely listening to the admonitions of the Lord of the North Wind.”

Medion sensed the displeasure in her words, but understood that it wasn't directed at Shemi. Therefore, it must be directed at the scene unfolding before them. Even the most oblivious person could sense Cecilia's emotional shift. Did she dislike the Grand Holy Court and the followers of the Snowfall Order? Or, to be more precise, was she resistant?
Medien was quite certain that if it weren't for receiving guests, the leader of the Holy Feather Knights wouldn't even want to set foot in the Great Holy Court.

At the same time, she was also very certain that this inclination had nothing to do with so-called political stance. Cecilia would not resist the faith of the Snowfall Order just because she was a member of the Perlansius royal family, just as she would not defy the sacred laws of her country just because she sympathized with those refugees. This statement may be somewhat abstract, but it is only to highlight a core quality: she is a person who can distinguish between public and private matters.

That's why the reasons behind it are even more intriguing.

However, Medine didn't need to test the waters with words or make wild guesses, because she and her companions would soon understand this feeling.

The group walked through the courtyard and entered the main hall of the Great Sacred Court.

The main hall was more magnificent and oppressive than the courtyard. A massive ceiling painting adorned the towering dome, depicting the Lord of the North judging all things: countless souls struggled in the wind and snow, some guided upwards by golden light, others swallowed whole by black vortexes. The colors were intense yet chilling, as if even the paint was mixed with ash and ice. Beneath the dome stood rows of neat wooden benches, upon which sat dozens of members of the cult, praying.

But there was no choir, no organ, no bishop reciting scriptures aloud; everyone just sat quietly on the bench, hands clasped together, foreheads pressed against the backs of their hands. The whole world was so quiet it was as if it had stopped breathing and its heartbeat had ceased.

Alice suddenly felt a chill run down her spine, as if she had stepped into a puppet theater.

Naturally, solemnity and reverence are the essence of religious ceremonies, and maintaining silence before God is a proper courtesy for believers. However, to remain silent to the point of seeming devoid of emotion is absolutely not a normal phenomenon. Don't mortals have requests in their hearts when they pray? For example, they pray for divine salvation from suffering, protection of loved ones and friends, or requests for wealth and power…

Once such a desire arises, it will naturally manifest itself: the expectation when confiding one's wishes to the gods, the anxiety of whether one will receive a response, the worry of feeling unappreciated by the gods, and even the resentment of blaming the gods for not helping one. These emotions are alternative voices, always filling the sacred breath and gathering under the majestic gaze.

But here, you can't feel it at all.

If the reason for this is that these believers are all without desires and have no inner response, then it seems more terrifying than physical silence.

Once you've entered, you want to leave, and once you leave, you'll never come back. That's Alice's current feeling, and it must be Cecilia's too. But the latter's dilemma is that she can't escape at all. Or rather, no matter where she escapes to, as long as she doesn't leave Saint Kiron, the Great Holy Court still stands there, and the faith and authority it represents still occupy half of this ancient snow country.

Her gaze towards the Knight Commander held a touch more pity, but the latter seemed oblivious, continuing his silent advance through the silent grove of statues in the main hall to an iron gate at the far end. Two Templar Knights stood guard, their silver-gray armor unadorned except for the snowflake entwined with thorns etched on their chests. Cecilia stepped forward and presented her pass. The two guards glanced at it silently, then simultaneously stepped back to either side, their movements perfectly synchronized, like puppets controlled by the same string.

As Alice walked through them, she deliberately slowed her pace to see if they would react in the slightest.

No.

She almost felt that even if she reached out to remove one of their helmets right now, the person would just stand there indifferently, letting her do as she pleased, at most blinking instinctively the moment she touched the armor.

Feeling a little uncomfortable, she quickened her pace and passed between the two. Behind the door was a seemingly endless spiral staircase, winding upwards, with only snow and dust in sight. The main hall was built into the mountainside, while this staircase seemed to have been carved entirely into the mountainside, also made of dark black stone. The steps were worn smooth as a mirror by countless feet, yet still icy cold. Travelers climbed the steps, and with each turn, the view widened. Through the narrow windows in the stone wall, they could see the city outside shrinking smaller and smaller, and the gloomy sky drawing ever closer.

"How high are we going?" Alice asked.

"The highest point of the Great Holy Court."

Cecilia replied, “The Pale Monastery where the Holy Maiden secluded herself is built on a natural platform at the top of Kazan, at an altitude of over 5,000 meters. There, snow covers the ground all year round, and the air is thin; ordinary people would find it difficult to breathe after just a few steps. However, you are not ordinary people, so you should not have too much of a problem.”

"So, your saintess isn't an ordinary person after all," Alice said, uttering a pointless remark, which is why no one paid her any attention.

After walking for about half an hour, Cecilia stepped onto the last stone step and reached the highest peak of Kazan, with the travelers following closely behind. On the man-made smooth snow sat an unremarkable building—the Pale Monastery. Compared to the extremely majestic and sacred buildings below, its scale and style were quite restrained, even simple. If Alice were to describe it, it would probably be similar to the Church of Our Lady of the Heart?
The difference lies in the fact that the Church of Heaven is a wooden building, while the Pale Monastery is a stone building; the former is warm and simple, while the latter is silent and reserved.

Next to the church was a two-story building, presumably a place for rest and living, because through the windows one could see a burning fireplace and a few flickering figures. These were the nuns serving the saint, carrying out their daily cleaning and preparing dinner for later. Apart from that, not even a guard could be seen.

"what?"

Alice seemed to sense something and looked up at the perpetually gloomy sky. Thick clouds hung low, as if one could reach out and touch them. There was no sun, no stars, not even a trace of wind, only an endless gray-white, like a giant dome, firmly covering the mountain, the city, and the country.

Against that gray-white background, something is slowly drifting down.

Alice instinctively stopped and reached out her hand to it.

It was falling from the highest point in the sky. At that height, even an object with mass would need several seconds to fall to the ground, right? But the light, floating sprite seemed to ignore the laws of nature and physics. Almost the instant Alice stretched out her hand, it had already landed in her palm, bringing a chilling sensation.

Alice shivered, then looked at the hexagonal snowflake in her hand with some surprise, and murmured, "It's snowing... but why is it black?"

Yes, the snowflakes that came from the clouds and descended to earth were black.

Looking up, one could see even more black snowflakes piercing through the clouds, surging majestically towards the sky and the earth, gradually drawing back a curtain that covered the mountains and the city. However, the scene was utterly devoid of beauty; instead, it evoked images of billowing coal clouds from the factory chimneys of Linwell City—gloomy, heavy, and desolately melancholic.

The others stopped and quietly observed the black snow, except for Median, who discreetly watched Cecilia's reaction. She didn't know if black snow had any special meaning in Saint Chiron's culture, but it was clear that Cecilia, who had always appeared calm and composed, had changed her expression in the face of the snow. Before the pink-haired girl could ask anything, she turned around and said, "I will go and inform the Saintess of your visit. Please go to the living room and rest for a moment."

The living room was in the two-story building next to the Pale Monastery. Several nuns had already heard the commotion and rushed over to greet them, but when they saw the black snowflakes falling from the sky, they were all stunned and at a loss for what to do.

It seems this snow really does have some special meaning, doesn't it?
Medion watched quietly as Cecilia hurried toward the convent, as she scolded the nuns to calm down, and as she disappeared behind the convent gates. He thought to himself: Perhaps we came at the wrong time.
Of course, it's also possible that it arrived at the perfect time?
……

"Huh?" Gloria went outside and found that there was already a thin layer of snow on the street. She looked up and saw more snowflakes slowly falling, soon turning the sky of Linwell City into a white expanse. Rooftops, streets, streetlights, and even inconspicuous corners were all invaded by snow, as if it did not fall from the sky, but grew directly from the ground.

She stopped and stared at the scene in a daze.

"What's wrong, Gloria?" Ling's voice came from behind, getting closer: "Aren't you going to see Bai Ye today?"

Ever since their first meeting, when Bai Ye confessed to Gloria that he "no longer needed her" and hoped she would remain in the dream, Gloria, convinced she was lying, insisted on going to the castle every day to find Bai Ye, arguing her until she revealed the real reason. Unfortunately, to this day, she remains unsuccessful. Bai Ye's stubbornness exceeded Gloria's expectations, and Gloria's persistence exceeded Lin Ge's expectations. He didn't think the girl would give up easily, but he felt she should feel some frustration by now.

I didn't expect her to be so enthusiastic all the time. Maybe she's the kind of person who gets more motivated the more setbacks she faces?
“I’m going, but I’ll go later.” Gloria turned around and gave the young man a big smile. She pointed to the sky outside, her tone even a little excited: “Because it’s snowing!”

The young man stopped in his tracks; he too had seen the snow Gloria had described.

Silent snowflakes are falling from the sky, turning the world black. (End of Chapter)