Though Frela had embarked on this journey with grand aspirations of broadening her horizons, the young woman now found herself devoutly embracing the philosophy that ignorance truly was bliss.
She resolved to convert her appreciation for beauty from three-dimensional splendor to two-dimensional depictions. Living embodiments of allure often came burdened with calamitous auras, making the sanitized portraits in tabloid newspapers far more agreeable company by comparison.
It was Menciel who ultimately located his unfortunate sister and reset her dislocated arm. The siblings sat facing each other in gloomy silence, the air thick with unspoken recriminations. The elder brother's right arm now bore a hyacinth-patterned sigil crawling down to his wrist - the so-called "Sleeve of Hyacinths" acquired during his encounter with Fio, who had returned from disposing of the chestnut mare.
Watching Menciel angrily don his spare longcoat despite the sweltering weather, Frela absently touched the new ornament on her ear, suddenly grateful for her thick mane of hair as nature's perfect head covering.
Outside their tent, the Nightingales and other mercenaries continued their raucous revelry. Within this thin barrier of canvas, the siblings maintained their wordless stalemate. Frela stared into her brother's sea-deep eyes, sensing invisible forces pulling their orderly lives into strange new configurations beyond their control.
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Dawn revealed the disappearance of the three cloaked figures and the Lace Consortium. Captain Charmann conducted a perfunctory headcount before signaling departure, clearly relieved to be rid of troublesome nobles. None remarked on the siblings' new accessories, though the Nightingales took great delight in mocking Menciel's "summer chill."
The remainder of their journey passed without incident. After successful mission completion at Oxcity's gates, Frela dutifully surrendered her earnings while secretly preening over Charmann's praise. The true prize lay in experiencing the Fire Festival - Oxcity's streets pulsed with infectious joy, temporarily smoothing rivalries between mercenary groups.
As Frela browsed the sprawling bazaar for gifts, the young woman quickly learned why this was called the Continent's most dangerous marketplace. Vendors hawked "fresh blood lizard tendons" and "growth-enhancing rat milk" with equal fervor. Her attempt to purchase iridescent beads ended in horrified realization - they were actual spider eyeballs sold by an armored matron who cheerfully offered crushing demonstrations.
"Oxcity's markets are utterly depraved," Frela declared with prim satisfaction, thoroughly enjoying the mock-hurt expression this drew from Nightingale Captain.
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Fire Festival traditions proved equally scandalous. Between masked revelers, body-pressed bonfire dances, and streetside aphrodisiac peddlers, Frela concluded all festivals shared one unspoken purpose: carnal propagation.
Her initial outrage soon transformed into wide-eyed curiosity. "Brother, when do we buy masks? Shouldn't we practice the hip-swaying dance? Do those little blue pills actually work?!"
Menciel's meticulous planning prevented actual separation, though Frela did manage to barter twenty-one spider eyes ("Seven per silver! Final offer!") while awaiting her "gift-exchange destiny" at the rendezvous point. Her prize came in the form of a black-cloaked stranger roasting fish with palm-fire - an exchange of eyeball for seafood that left her happily greasy-fingered despite Menciel's lecture.
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Homecoming brought doting attention from Old Dort and wide-eyed interrogation by siblings. Frela's embellished tales of "sea monster's remorseful tears" (spider eyeballs) satisfied everyone except the perpetually scowling Lin Bo'er.
Resuming studies under her exacting elven tutor, Frela completed Elven Alchemy Fundamentals I within a week. Yet as waves form on still waters, turbulent ripples began disturbing her calm routine - the first tremors of change already lapping at her ordered world.