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The sound of the tides echoed along the shore. Everything felt pretty much the same four hundred years ago and four hundred years later.
Sunlight, stars, tides, and the wind had remained unchanged for countless millennia. Or perhaps they had changed long ago, and human lives and history were too brief to notice.
On the deck of a speedboat, a burly bearded man sitting in a folding chair looked at the reflection of the moon in the sea and said, “I’ve been thinking about it recently. If our ancestors hadn’t gotten involved back then, if the Tower of Origin had actually been completed, and that grand feat of binding the other Supreme Benevolences under the cage of order had really succeeded, would this world have been better than it is now?”
“You’re having another episode, aren’t you?”
Between the reefs and the beach, an aging White Owl struggled to drag a heavy iron crate up the shore. Gritting her teeth, she finally hauled herself up.
“Give me a hand! Put some strength into it! After all these years, how do you still have zero awareness? I’m the one busting my back hauling all these damn packages, who do you think it’s for?!”
“Ah, sorry, sorry.” The man grinned and pulled her up along with the crate. “Just got a little sentimental seeing...
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