Chapter 46: The Past

The three of them cleared away the tableware and trash from the table, then headed over to Liz’s room just like last time. Liz reached into her drawer and pulled out an old but well-preserved map.

She carefully spread the map out on the bed, showing it to Hesta and Turandot.

This was a map of the Askia Wasteland, claimed to be the largest wasteland in the Third District, three times the size of Tany. Whether its land area was truly the largest remained to be verified, but it had indeed once been an immensely prosperous city-state, whose peak could rival some of the habitable zones far removed from the core cities.

Askia sat upon a vast plain. Though its transportation was extremely convenient, it possessed no natural defenses to hold.

The entirety of Askia comprised five districts, and Liz’s home was situated at the corner of an artificial river in the East District. Not far from there was a small park where, on weekends, many resident dog owners would play frisbee with their pets.

Liz was familiar with every single street in that vicinity; she could even, relying on her impressions, recite the shops and the names of their proprietors along a given street in order.

"The regional restrictions on the wastelands are not that strict," Liz said softly. "Take Askia and Vilyuchinsky, for example. Though one is in the north-central part of the Third District and the other at the easternmost edge of the Fourteenth District, if someone is willing, they can still migrate over. It seems some of my family's ancestors were among the very first group to go to Vilyuchinsky, but so much time has passed that the ties between both sides were broken long ago."

Turandot mentally estimated the distance between the two.

"So far... and so dangerous."

"The land can only support a limited number of people. To survive, someone always has to be a pioneer," Liz said softly. "Moreover, heading east along this road doesn't mean passing entirely through uninhabited zones. Every so often, you will encounter different towns, though everyone is deeply guarded against strangers and does not easily let outsiders in."

"What if you want to settle down?"

"Larger wastelands generally have their own dedicated liaison stations and quarantine zones, mostly spearheaded by Silver Needles. The usual procedure is to first submit an application and paperwork, and once approved, undergo a cerebrospinal fluid test and spend three months in a special quarantine facility... In short, it is very troublesome.

"Smaller wastelands are not so strict; people do whatever works. After all, before the chelate tide broke out in Askia, people hadn't seen a chelate for decades—under such circumstances, expecting everyone to consciously follow a set of extraordinarily troublesome rules is almost impossible."

Hesta had also heard Arnold mention this before. The Askia of 4620 and the Hekla of 4621 were the only two chelate tide occurrences in the Third District in recent years, and the 67 reservists in the base mostly came from the villages surrounding these two wastelands. For Liz and the Grandguillaume brothers, living right at the epicenter of the outbreaks, survival was practically a miracle.

Liz gazed at the map. "The two chelate tides served as a wake-up call for the people in the habitable zones and the other wastelands alike."

"Hard to say. If it were truly a wake-up call, two chelates wouldn't have managed to slip into Catra City," Turandot said, lying on her side. "The municipal fortifications outside the city were built half-heartedly before, and the Security Department failed to properly carry out their duty of patrolling and keeping watch at the quarantine zone every night. Everyone felt that the Hekla Wasteland was a long way from Catra City, and even if something happened, it wouldn't be our turn anytime soon... Without seeing actual blood, who can remember a lesson?"

The three of them lay on the bed, each lost in memories of the past, falling silent for a moment.

Liz suddenly glanced sideways. "Jane, what kind of place is Short-Call Alley?"

Hesta had not anticipated this sudden shift in topic and could only emit a soft, slow "Um..." for a moment.

"Are there really criminals everywhere?" Turandot asked.

"Probably... yes? But it's not that terrifying," Hesta recalled. "After all, to find enough food, clean water, essential medicine... you have to trade with one another. So in most cases, people actively avoid meaningless disputes. Many people only treat Short-Call Alley as a temporary stopping place, intending to eventually find a way to settle down somewhere else."

Liz nodded thoughtfully. "It sounds indeed somewhat similar to the situation in Hekla."

"How is it similar?"

"In the center of the Hekla Wasteland, there is a small town of about forty-something square kilometers called Oasis Land. Have you heard of it?"

Hesta shook her head.

Liz continued, "There are underground trading posts, hospitals, pharmacies, and various procurement points there... Aside from trafficking people, arms, and drugs, it's no different from any other wasteland.

"Oasis Land is a 'truce zone' agreed upon by all Hekla people, because the locals also need a place to save lives and gather intelligence. Therefore, no matter what the dispute, once they enter Oasis Land, both parties must temporarily lay down their conflict."

Hesta tilted her head. "Sounds like a sanctuary in a church."

"Really?" Liz blinked.

"Mm. A nun once told me that before the Great Blackout, the church had the 'Right of Sanctuary.' No matter who someone was, no matter what crimes they had committed, as long as they stepped into a church and rang the confession bell, they would instantly receive protection."

"Even the police couldn't go in and arrest them?"

Hesta nodded. "Yes. The bishop, priest, or head nun would grant them a sanctuary period ranging from half a month to forty days depending on the circumstances, after which they would either be permanently exiled or face trial in a secular court—not entirely escaping justice."

Turandot gave a start. "Catra has a place like that too. Near the churches, there's always a refuge—used precisely for those kinds of things."

"Perhaps some of the habits on this land have simply been passed down from the Golden Age? Even though they might have changed their appearance..."

Turandot gave a chuckle.

"In that case, even though more than eight hundred years have passed, we are still the remnants of the Golden Age."

Of the three, only Liz’s expression suddenly turned complex.

She got up, stepped onto the floor, walked over to the wall, and took down her bayan accordion.

" *The White Ship* is a folk song passed down from the Golden Age; my grandmother taught it to me," Liz said in a very gentle voice. "She taught me another song as well. Would you like to hear it?"

...

That same night, the same song was currently echoing through Chiba's office.

The pointer record player resting beneath her windowsill was spinning, its metal-plated stylus continuously reading out segments of an unfamiliar language.

Chiba hummed the melody of this song. She had once held the cover of this record and asked Mrs. Daria of the White Ship for its title.

Those short phrases pieced together from mottled characters meant: *I wish to die young.*