"Sister, didn't you say things were already moving forward between you and Gavin Ward, so why—"
"Angelis, shut up!"
Angelina spun on her heel like a flash of lightning. Her face, already pink from embarrassment, went scarlet. In one smooth motion she kicked Angelis in the knee, and the elven prince yelped, hopping on one leg while clutching the other.
"Ow!"
Two Ross soldiers at the detention-center door exchanged a whisper.
"Is he really an elf prince? He looks like a joke…"
"Shh. The lieutenant's looking."
Angelina's chilly stare hit them both; they straightened and stared at the wall as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world.
"I'm ashamed enough. Move." Angelina snapped, grabbing Angelis by the sleeve and towing him out. Behind the siblings, more than twenty elves filed after them, heads low, as the guards opened the gate and let the odd procession out onto the street.
This was not how the elf delegation had imagined entering Ross territory. They had dreamed of formal receptions, music, and a city gate ceremony, not being hauled in military trucks with the curtains rolled down. But the border fuss was over; Angelina had signed them out with a stormy face and a stiff salute.
And then Tino City hit them like a sunrise.
---
Half Ancient, Half New
Tino City looked like a tale with two endings bound into one book. On one side, stone lanes, old facades, tiled roofs, and market awnings—the bones of a classic city. On the other, skeletal towers wrapped in scaffolding, steel frames rising like forests of iron, new roads laid in straight lines, and the clean geometry of modern shopfronts. Because so many engineers had been sent to finish the port, many construction sites were paused—but even so, the scale stunned the elves.
Nearly every block had buildings under construction, some wrapped in timber scaffolds, others in netting. New signs hung over doorways. Streetlights stood in neat ranks. Automobiles—snub-nosed trucks and boxy cars—rattled past, making the elves step back in surprise. Everywhere they looked, people seemed rested and alert, their clothes tidy, their movements efficient.
Vendors came and went with little carts—steam curling from bamboo baskets; iron pans crackling with oil; bright bottles of sauces lined up like soldiers. Among the smells were things the elves knew—tea, grilled greens, baked roots—but also aromas they did not: sweet-salty glazes, slow-braised meats, spices that bloomed in the nose before the tongue could name them.
Tino had seen many travelers. But a flock of elves in pale cloaks and silver-threaded belts still drew glances and smiles.
---
The Honey-Glazed Surprise
"Brother elf, try our special honey-braised pork?" a street vendor called cheerfully, pushing his trolley up to Angelis. A small sign on the side read: HONEY GLAZED PORK—HOUSE RECIPE.
"Meat?" Angelis blinked, drew himself up, and shook his head politely. "I'm sorry. As an elf, I'm mostly vegetarian—"
In truth, he was about to turn away with the gentle arrogance many high elves carried. He had eaten "human food" while passing through the Tongsley Empire, and most of it had been bland, oily, or both. He braced himself to decline with grace and keep walking.
Which is why he didn't see his friend coming.
With perfect timing, the elf beside him speared a cube of pork with a toothpick and popped it into Angelis's mouth.
"Hey—what are you—!"
Angelis reached to spit it out…and stopped. His eyes narrowed, then widened. He chewed once. Twice.
The world shifted.
Salt and sweetness unfolded like a ribbon. The meat melted tender as velvet, the glaze clung to his tongue with a caramel shine, and a whisper of anise and ginger drifted through the warmth. A flavor he had never known—deep, bright, whole.
"Mmm—! This… this meat!" Angelis gasped, then, mortifyingly, moaned. "I've never tasted anything like this!"
He snatched the toothpick, stabbed another piece, and ate it with reverence. "Another. Another—!"
His friend stared, stunned. The prank had been meant to make Angelis splutter, not convert him.
"Try it," Angelis said, glowing. "Just one bite."
"N-no, I—"
"One bite, brother."
The other elf relented. He took the cube like a man accepting a fate. He bit down, and froze. Then he nodded so hard his earrings chimed.
"By the Forest— it's… it's perfect."
The vendor's smile widened as he kept the little wooden trays moving. Under Angelis's delighted assault, the tray—then the cart—rapidly dwindled. By the end, the two elves had cleaned the stock and stood there stuffed and blissful, toothpicks in hand, dignity forgotten.
"The world has delicacies after all," Angelis sighed, thoroughly undone. "I should have come to the Kingdom of Ross sooner."
He turned, buoyant, to call the rest of their delegation over—and stopped.
---
Vanishing Act
"Where is everyone?" he asked, blinking.
A moment ago, Angelina had been marching at the front, the elves strung out behind her in a tidy line. Now—gone. The street behind was full of strangers moving like river water. The familiar cloaks had dissolved into the crowd.
They waited a breath, then two, then three. No one emerged.
"Did they turn left?"
"Or right?"
They tried both. Then tried retracing. Then circled the block. With each turn, the streets braided tighter until the two of them were truly, thoroughly lost.
They looked at each other, identical expressions of outrage and disbelief.
"We live in Jinjing City," said Angelis, scandalized. "A million elves! We've never gotten lost there!"
"And now we're lost in a human city," said his friend, equally offended. "This is a disgrace."
---
The Street That Sings
The commercial district unfurled before them like a banner. In front of many shops stood a tin-horn loudspeaker on a wooden stand. Slogans and songs burst out in turns:
"Radio! The latest invention! Hear the theater at home—hear the comedians at home! Get your brand-new radio today!"
"New boutique! Grand opening! Half-price on all dresses—today only!"
"Roast duck! Crispy roast duck—hot and ready!"
The words radio and half-price meant little to the elves, but the energy needed no translation. Children ran in bright shoes. Women in neat skirts examined bolts of cloth. A pair of half-orc mechanics laughed as they wheeled a greasy engine out of a shop front. A street singer flicked his guitar and sent a river of notes down the cobbles.
Angelis tried to hold on to a princely gloom. He really did. He lifted his chin and composed his features into something noble and pained.
"Truly," he said, voice heavy with woe, "we are lost."
Then he spotted a stall with mechanical birds that flapped when you turned a crank.
His gloom snapped like a twig.
"That looks interesting! Let's go!" he said, grabbing his friend's sleeve. The two of them ran laughing like boys skipping lessons.
They got more lost.
---
A City of Firsts
They tried sweet milk tea with black pearls that rolled up their straws and made them choke and laugh. They stared at a glass case of radios while a shopkeeper turned a knob and filled the street with an orchestra. They learned a new phrase—"only five gold coins!"—and weren't entirely sure if that was cheap or theft. They watched a printing press in the back of a newsstand spit out papers, warm and smelling of ink.
They bought a paper bag of candied hawthorns they could not pronounce and ate them until their teeth hurt. They saw two boys in blue school uniforms race past with satchels bouncing; the boys gave the elves a look, then offered a solemn nod, as if acknowledging fellow travelers.
Everywhere, order without stiffness; effort without misery. People worked, but they did not slump. They lined up without shouting. They smiled without groveling. It made something in Angelis loosen and something else grow very still.
"Humans," he said softly, half to himself, "are… changing."
His friend nodded, mouth full of candied fruit. "It's the city," he said. "Or maybe it's the Empire."
---
The Mistake and the Map
After their fifth wrong turn, they finally admitted they needed help. A kindly bookseller listened to their halting explanation and brought out a folded city map printed with neighborhoods and landmarks. He circled their current spot in red and drew a path toward the military quarter where Angelina was likely to take the delegation.
"Follow the telegraph poles," he advised, tapping the little black dots on the map. "Count three squares, then turn at the wheat fountain."
Angelis bowed with formal elegance. "You have my thanks."
"Bring your sister a bag of egg tarts from the bakery on the corner," the man added. "Trust me."
Angelis bought two bags—one for Angelina, one for himself—and the elves set off with the map spread between them like a treasure chart.
They immediately took the wrong street.
But the telegraph poles saved them. The black wires ran from pole to pole in tidy lines, and by keeping them on the right, the elves finally found the third square and the fountain crowned with a sculpted sheaf of wheat.
There, at last, they saw a familiar figure in a black cap and twin ponytails, arms folded, foot tapping.
Angelina.
---
Sister, Brother, and a Bag of Tarts
"You," she said, pointing two fingers at Angelis as if they were daggers, "are not allowed to vanish in my city."
"Your city?" he said, delighted. "That's new."
"Don't." She took a breath, closed her eyes for a count of three, and opened them again. "If you were anyone else, I'd have you on latrine duty for a week."
Angelis held out a paper bag. "Egg tarts? A bookseller insisted."
She stared, suspicious. Then she took one and bit in, and for a moment the storm cloud cracked.
"…Acceptable," she admitted, eyes lowering so he wouldn't see the pleased shine there. "Next time, stay with the group."
"We were sampling local culture," Angelis said solemnly.
"You were eating your way through my patrol area."
He grinned. "Is that a crime?"
"In this case, only because you got lost."
The other elves straggled in behind them in twos and threes, clearly relieved to have found their lieutenant again. Some held little bags of snacks; one cradled a clockwork bird that flapped feebly. Angelina pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Fine," she said at last. "You've seen the city. Now you'll see it properly. We're due at the barracks to register your delegation, and then we have quarters for you near the ceremonial route. The coronation preparations are everywhere; try not to get arrested again."
Angelis coughed. "That was a misunderstanding."
"You called the Emperor your brother-in-law at a border post," she said flatly.
"…A cultural misunderstanding?"
"Try that line on Gavin and see how far it gets you."
He thought about the press conference threat he'd heard about and decided, for once, to be wise.
---
A City That Doesn't Blink
They set off as a group, this time with Angelina at the front and a Ross sergeant at the back to prevent any further "sampling of local culture." As they walked, the city breathed around them: the grind of a tram wheel, the ping of a hammer, the cheer of a loudspeaker announcing a parade rehearsal. Flags with the twin-headed eagle unfurled from windows. Children practiced a new song in the square, their voices rising like birds.
Angelis glanced up at the unfinished Lowes Tower, its steel ribs catching the light. In its bones he could see ambition—not the hungry, brittle kind, but something steadier. A plan. A will. A promise that tomorrow would not look like yesterday.
He touched the folded map in his pocket, then the crinkled paper bag. For a moment he pictured the road behind him—Jinjing's golden groves, the carriage rocking through the Tongsley border, the shock of rifles at the Ross checkpoint—and the road ahead: an empire crowning itself without asking the gods.
He had come to satisfy his curiosity about a man he called brother-in-law as a joke that wasn't quite a joke. Now, as the city's pulse beat under his feet, the joke felt less funny and more fateful.
He fell into step beside Angelina. "Sister," he said lightly, "will your Emperor mind a curious elf standing at the edge of his parade?"
She didn't look at him. "He minds careless elves," she said. "Curious ones… he sometimes finds use for."
Angelis smiled. "Then I'll be useful."
"Start," she said, "by walking in a straight line."
He did. For a whole block.
Then a shop window of radio sets caught his eye, and he drifted. Angelina's hand grabbed the back of his collar and tugged him into place without breaking stride.
The two guards at the door exchanged a grin.
The lost elf had been found. For now.
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