Hm, by the way, may I ask who was your previous assistant? No, I'm not snooping or anything. It's just... There's not much I can do for you here, besides offer my quiet thoughts on the occasional poem.

I see what you're hiding behind your back. Be at ease, I know very well that Leithanien needs a citizen to heighten her glory in foreign lands. Kazimierz, on the other hand, needs a scandal-plagued knight of self-professed purity. Both are as plain as day. Besides, that issue of The Red Wine is outdated. Their kinds never run short of personalities to gossip over.

The wind can get very strong up on the decks. Perhaps you should change into something warmer. Me? I'm just dressing this place up as a certain city of greenery and shade in my imagination. The one where the gentle breeze blew from lands unknown, and the blacksmith's rhythmic hammering sounded the passage of time... Those days were brief. So brief, they are worth remembering.

'Droste' is my mother's maiden name. It is a common name with no place in the spires. How long would you stay in an alley full of marigolds, Doktor? Very few would grace their proses and stanzas with these forbidden blossoms, but they're really beautiful... To be honest, I'm surprised you actually remembered my full name, Doktor.

Poetry is charming as a respite from grammatical convention. It is a search for the most fitting of expressions in the most irrational. The Candle Knight, who upholds virtue, and Viviana, who loves poetry... I have been a contradiction since the very beginning.

Tales about foreign lands usually end with the traveler returning home. I was always preparing to return to Leithanien, but even after having experienced so much, my truest imp ression of the place remains in the candlelit books on those dark nights. I've seen the people I wanted to see, and I've made my choice.

Look. What is it the candle lights here? Our faces? Lines of poetry that no one reads? Or the dark and mired path ahead of us? I guess you've always been able to see them, even without my candlelight. Right then, rest your eyes upon me. Don't let the light distract your gaze.

I returned to that small, dark chamber in the spire and spoke to the little girl within. I told her that she will endure a lifetime of slander, suffer regrets that cannot be undone, and be trapped in a cycle of endless pursuit and loss… Yes, farewells feel the same as a dream. Do you find me, as I am in this moment, real enough?

'If you and I were notes from one stanza, on which instrument are we strung? And what player has us in his hand?' Oh, I knew you would come. Have you finished reading the poems I gave you? Let me guess. I couldn't possibly share the image of your beloved, and it must lie within the most uplifting cantata.

Mein Tag war heiter, glücklich meine Nacht.

Greetings. Margaret told me about you. It's a shame we didn't have a chance to meet in the Grand Knight Territory… They called me 'The Candle Knight' at the time. You can call me Viviana, Doktor.

Watching my own fights through a screen... For a moment, I thought I was still in Kazimierz.

Are you going to grant me a title as well? There's no need for that, but it probably won't matter anyway. This place is no arena.

Can I interpret this as... your hope that I will stay?

I, Viviana Droste, shall wield candle and blade to win victories in your name.

Um, truth be told, the General Chamber of Commerce's spokesmen kept complaining that I didn't care much about my own matches.

Let us move. A timely departure paves the way for an early return.

Moonlight barely laid upon the breezy parterre, yet you've witnessed the entirety of autumn?

I listen, to this passing silence.

I wait, for that belated serenity.

This is no arena. No scars will be remembered or awarded.

Leave. This is my last suggestion.

Why obsess over rhymes? Poetry is woven with the thread of ideas.

'Pale roses,' pale minds.

Alas, but tying your legs together won't make you fly.

Let time rest upon this unlit night.

Tired already, Doktor? Me too. The last time I had such an unforgettable bout was that match I fought in Kawalerielki.

Doktor, you're right. Words that shake one's soul always come from within the storm.

Even the most uninspiring poetry may contain a few lines that tug at our hearts. Despite the regrettable techniques employed, I can't help but approve of the writer's expression.

Doktor, accept this temporary lapse in creativity and remember how this moment feels. I'm still looking forward to the completion of this sonnet.

No bathtub...? Never mind. Just a little joke.

Hmm, who is there? Whatever. I already knew it was you.

Doktor, if the candle goes out, I can't say for sure what might happen next.

Arknights.

Every year when this day came around, my Father would celebrate the New Year with the nobles of his demesne. And even those who lived close enough would be given favors. It was my only chance to speak loudly in the room. No one paid me any attention, and I paid none to the noisy crowd outside... I was a little girl back then, but I still bear memories of those times.

Hmm, Doktor, what are you muttering there? I won't force you to recite any poems. But you have read them, have you not?

People often say that the era we live in has no need for poetry. They claim it cannot provide leisure, and it is loathed for certain men's pretentious elegance. But there is someone who once proved to me the value of 'reminders.' In that case, I wish to walk with you to remind this era, with a candle, and a poem.