On the third day, outside the east gate of the capital.
The nightingale lurked in the mist, watching the ragged refugees. Echoes summoned them in waves, as they followed Knight Brian toward the dock.
Now they no longer need to patrol the refugee camp's perimeter like they did two days ago, gradually dispersing the crowds. The mass exodus has made the remaining refugees aware of this pattern: once a group is pulled from the edge, others inevitably follow. Even the guards on the city walls have noticed the commotion at the base, though they'd rather see these stinking refugees disappear than deal with them.
The entire plan is progressing smoothly. The refugees in Dongcheng District are nearly gone, and those at the North Gate are actively moving toward this side. By sunset, everyone should be able to depart by boat without any issues.
While everyone else was busy, she stood out as the only one who seemed relaxed. The echo was surrounded by layers of mercenaries assigned to escort her, and Lily, under the heavy protection of the First Army, was busy producing purified water, making her own guard duty seem somewhat superfluous.
She only needed to remain vigilant when the 'mercenaries' dispersed to carry the immobile patients with severe illnesses. At that moment, Nightingale observed Echo lifting her head to gaze at the majestic East City Gate, sighing softly.
"What's wrong?" she asked as she approached.
"Nothing much, just some lingering thoughts," Echo's expression showed a hint of sadness. "Before being sold into the royal capital, I endured countless hardships. I thought the Graycastle people treated me coldly because of our Sandfolk identity, but now I realize they're just as ruthless to their own kind—no different from those in Iron Sand City." Nightingale, remembering Echo's past as a slave, hesitated before patting her shoulder. "But not everyone is like that. There are many kind-hearted souls, like the sisters of the Guild of Mutual Aid, or... Your Highness Roland." "You mean... Your Highness can truly stop conflicts?" Echo whispered. "Can the Continent Kingdom, Sandfolk, Bays, commoners, and Witches all live together freely and peacefully without fighting?" "If it's Your Highness, I think he can," Nightingale replied firmly. "Not because of those strange machines or the awe-inspiring cannons, but because... I always feel Your Highness and we're not the same kind of people." "Of course he's not. He's the Prince of Graycastle." "No, it's not about identity," she shook her head. "I can't even explain where this difference comes from—it's just instinct." Only someone like Your Highness could come up with such a jumble of bizarre theories... Even the Witch's abilities, he would study them over and over, approaching them from a completely different perspective. Whatever astonishing things he creates, I wouldn't find them strange at all. "" You really have faith in him, "Echo chuckled, her sadness instantly fading." I hope when that day comes, I can return to the Southernmost Land to see it for myself." Faith? In some ways, yes—but in others... she had no certainty. Nightingale couldn't help but glance toward the Western Land, wondering what he was doing while she was away. Was he busy with those blueprints and strange machines, or with Anna... She shook her head vigorously, trying to shake off these distracting thoughts.
Anyway, once today's work is done, I can head back to Border Town. Nightingale figured, I might as well just ask him then—after all, he couldn't lie to me.
...
When we arrived at the camp at noon, the lightning was also coming down slowly.
These days, she patrols the skies under the blazing sun, proving to be the most hardworking member of the team. To conceal her movements, Lightning even dons a custom-made "Sky Camouflage" suit from Solora, which not only tightly wraps her body but also covers her hair. This garment, given a peculiar name by RolandYour Highness, is clearly not designed for aesthetics. Its exterior features a pattern of light blue and gray-white hues that blends seamlessly with the sky, making her almost invisible from a distance.
Upon landing, the young girl's first action was to remove her jacket and grab the water bag to fill her stomach with water. Nightingale observed that her undergarments were soaked through with sweat, her forehead and nasal tip covered in beads of perspiration, and a ring of marks from the windproof goggles left on her pale cheeks.
"Thank you for your hard work," said Nightingale, squatting down to wipe her sweat.
"Thank goodness these folks didn't just show up out of nowhere from the East," Lightning said with a tongue-twister, "or I'd have been sunburned to death." "Back home tomorrow?" Lily asked listlessly, "I haven't showered in days and feel completely drained." Nightingale couldn't help but chuckle. Back in the Guild of Mutual Aid, they'd gone over half a month without showers without a single complaint. Now, it was barely a week. It suddenly dawned on her that the bathroom and soap might be part of RolandYour Highness's "plot" —since he'd invented those quirky yet handy gadgets, the Witches probably wouldn't dare leave Border Town again.
The calm, however, didn't last until the transport ended. After lunch, Tasa, who had gone to the capital to gather intelligence, brought back bad news.
"So you mean... Dreamwater is gathering his forces and planning to surround the dock?" Iron Axe frowned.
"Perhaps they intend to surround the dock," Tasa corrected. "The first part is certain, but the latter half is too bizarre for my informants to confirm. Now other underworld organizations in the capital have mobilized to prevent Dreamwater from suddenly attacking their territories. However, compared to the theory that 'surrounding the dock' is deliberate smoke, I believe they leaked the information mid-way—something common among rats. After all, most underworld members are just thugs or scum, hardly forming a tight-knit organization. If the intelligence is accurate, Dreamwater must be under the orders of some powerful faction; otherwise, it would be extremely difficult to get them to leave their territory." "Just a bunch of rats," Iron Axe said nonchalantly. "Would these rascals 'roaming affect your medicine distribution plan?" "Probably not," Tasa replied. "They can't interfere with the patrol squad, so they're unlikely to block my access to the side gate. Once inside the city, Skull Finger will protect the medicine convoy. I'm just worried about you—since I must stay in the city tonight to supervise the purification water sales, I might not be able to see you off tomorrow morning." "No problem," Iron Axe patted his arm. "We'll meet again when Your Highness arrives in the capital." As the nightingale had predicted, at dusk, the last sailboat carrying refugees slowly left the dock, heading toward Silverlight City. The remaining three hundred or so unwilling to leave the capital were ordered by Iron Axe to disperse.
Then everyone evacuated to the opposite bank of the canal, waiting for nightfall.