"I have never heard of such a god," Lumière frowned.
"Just because you haven't heard of him doesn't mean he doesn't exist." With that, Coppelia extended her hand, palm up. A gentle wisp of Anemo energy began to gather in her hand, forming a small wind field around Lumière that gently lifted him about a foot off the ground where he stood. The entire process was smooth and stable, without a trace of the ferocity of a gale.
Beside her, Columbina reached out her right hand and gently pressed it against Coppelia's back, providing her with energy support.
Suspended in the wind field, Lumière's face was filled with shock. He had long worked near the tower where the gales howled, and his understanding of "wind" had always been linked to violence and tearing force. But the wind enveloping him now was so docile, so peaceful.
Coppelia slowly withdrew her power, letting Lumière land steadily on his feet. "How does this wind compare to Decarabian's gales and Andrius's north wind?"
For a moment, Lumière couldn't find the right words to describe the feeling.
He looked at Coppelia again, his eyes filled with suspicion and astonishment. "Who exactly are you? Are you followers of that 'God of Freedom' you mentioned?"
Coppelia was momentarily stunned. It was a question she hadn't really considered, but she needed to provide a plausible identity now. She quickly replied, "That's right. We believe in Barbatos, the God of Freedom and Anemo. We have come here on his divine decree to rescue the people trapped in the Lone King's cage."
Lumière looked at them, half-believing, half-doubting, and didn't respond immediately.
Coppelia hadn't expected to change his beliefs with just a few words, but it was good enough to plant a seed of doubt.
She changed the subject. "You mentioned a bard just now. Coincidentally, I'm also looking for a bard." She once again described the young man's features—short black hair, a braided ponytail with a gradient, and a lyre in his hand.
After listening, Lumière shook his head. "I don't know him. The people I'm in contact with are mostly respected elders who can rally the people's voices, not a young man."
Still no new leads. Coppelia sighed inwardly, then asked, "We may need your help in the future. How can we get in touch with you?"
Lumière pondered for a moment before saying, "On the night of the petition assembly, around this same time, let's meet here. If necessary, we can establish a stable line of communication then."
Then, his tone grew serious. "Also, outlander, I will remember what you've said. But please do not disrupt our plans before the outcome of the petition is clear."
"I promise I won't interfere." After saying this, a slightly awkward smile appeared on Coppelia's face. She pointed to Columbina beside her. "One more thing. Do you know where we can earn some money, or trade labor for food? This child hasn't eaten in two days; she's too hungry to even speak. It would be best if the pay is settled daily, and it needs to be unskilled manual labor. I'm very strong..."
The ever-quiet Columbina suddenly spoke in a low voice, "But I'm not particularly hungry right now."
"You will be, sooner or later."
Lumière looked at the strange pair, silent for a moment, then said, "You can go to Mill Number Three in the northern production district tomorrow morning. I'll let them know you're coming ahead of time."
...
After bidding Lumière farewell, Coppelia and Columbina found a hidden spot on the outskirts of the city to rest for the night. The next day, after disguising themselves again, they went to the northern production district.
The production district was close to the wind barrier, and the gales branching off from it could be clearly felt. Stone mills stood in neat rows. The gales powered the giant windmills of each mill, driving the internal machinery amidst howling sounds and dull creaks.
Amidst the dry scent of grain dust, there was a faint sour smell, perhaps from fermenting dough or the sweat of the workers.
Coppelia and Columbina went to the Mill Number Three that Lumière had mentioned and found temporary work. Coppelia once again said that Columbina couldn't see. The foreman found a corner for Columbina to wait quietly.
Inside the mill, the light was dim, and the air was thick with flour dust, almost suffocating.
Coppelia observed that the machinery, which should have been entirely wind-powered, seemed to be lacking sufficient force and required a group of workers to provide an extra push.
From the foreman's complaints, she pieced together a likely reason. Ever since the King of the North Wind, Andrius, began his constant attacks on the wind barrier, Decarabian's gales seemed to have been disrupted, losing some of their former strength.
A group of gaunt, thin workers and shackled slaves were performing this strenuous supplementary work in the mill.
The foreman constantly clutched a dark leather whip in his rough hand. Seeing a few workers starting to slack off, he paced over, his brow furrowed, and impatiently waved his free hand as if shooing away flies.
"Get moving! Don't just stand there like unburied corpses!" he barked, his voice coarse but lacking any real anger.
Coppelia was assigned to a stone millstone. Unlike the others who pushed with all their might using their shoulders, she firmly gripped the push-bar, lowered her waist, and her slender arms unleashed a steady and continuous force.
Her mechanical body demonstrated its absolute advantage at this moment. The large millstone, which normally required four or five people to move, rumbled smoothly under her solitary effort.
At first, the workers next to her tried to help, but they soon realized their strength was redundant. They exchanged glances, gradually slowed their pace, and finally just rested their hands lightly on the push-bar while pretending to exert themselves.
The foreman noticed this unusual scene. He squinted at Coppelia but didn't say anything to stop it.
...
At the end of the day's labor, Coppelia received her daily wages, a small bag of coarse wheat, and three hard, black loaves of bread as payment.
The two of them left the production district and returned to the place where they had rested the previous night.
On the way, Columbina suddenly said she was hungry and asked for the black bread.
The loaf was quite large; she had to hold it with both hands to keep it steady. She sniffed it, then took a curious bite, but the bread was too hard for her to chew.
"Let me use this money to buy something else to eat," Coppelia urged. "It's a shame there's no fruit to pick or game to hunt here, otherwise..."
"I want to eat this." Columbina took another bite, still unable to chew it, and asked, "Do the people here all eat this?"
"I think... they probably do."
Columbina was silent for a moment, then, unconvinced, took another bite, clenching her jaw with more force, but she only managed to leave a faint tooth mark on the crust.
Seeing Columbina's insistence, Coppelia went to the market. She traded the day's wages and the coarse wheat for a cheap wooden bowl and some clean water to soften the hard bread.
Columbina ate quietly by her side. Coppelia recalled the day's events: the weakening wind, the numb workers, the "friendly" foreman...
In the silence, she entered sleep mode, awaiting the next day's petition.
____
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