Coppelia slowed her pace, carefully observing the architectural style and layout. She hadn't examined it closely last time when she asked for directions.
The architectural style here was very uniform, nearly all structures featuring similar rock foundations and wooden walls, making full use of the most readily available local stone and timber.
To withstand the severe cold, the walls were built thick and the windows were small, some even covered with thin sheets of ice polished to a translucent finish.
But what caught Coppelia's attention more were the everyday items scattered and casually placed outside the houses: neatly stacked firewood by the doors; strips of dried meat and fishing nets hanging from the entrances; some homes even had small plots of land enclosed by stones, where some kind of cold-resistant moss or herbs seemed to be cultivated.
Everything seemed so settled, filled with the traces of long-term habitation.
Weren't these outcasts planning to relocate? When she had asked Gunnhildr earlier, she hadn't denied it. But this place looked nothing like it was preparing for a large-scale, long-distance migration.
As he walked, Parsifal enthusiastically introduced the place to them: "Over there is the collective area for processing leather... This way is the craftsmen's workshop... and that longhouse in the distance is our assembly hall..."
Along the way, they would occasionally encounter local residents who curiously sized up Coppelia and Columbina. Parsifal would always stop and introduce them with a smile: "These two are guests of the clan, Miss Coppelia and Miss Columbina!" Most people would respond with a friendly gaze, nod, and then continue with their work.
Columbina, who had been following quietly and taking in the surrounding details, suddenly raised a hand and pointed nearby: "That white house, what is it?"
Parsifal looked in the direction she was pointing, his tone becoming a bit peculiar. "Ah, that... That's a house made purely of ice. Old Man Walker insisted on building it. Honestly, I can't believe anyone could live in there. A house made of ice, just hearing about it sounds bone-chilling."
He spoke as he led the two towards the ice house. The pure white structure, covered in snow, stood out starkly among the many wood and stone buildings.
Up close, the ice house was constructed from neatly cut blocks of ice, forming a hemispherical shape with a certain aesthetic appeal.
An old man with graying hair had his back to them, intently using snow to fill the gaps between the ice blocks, his work meticulously careful.
Coppelia immediately noticed that he was only using his right arm. His left hand, along with his entire left arm, hung limply at his side, swaying slightly with the movements of his right arm.
Parsifal lowered his voice and quickly explained: "The owner of this house is named Walker. Back when he was still in Mondstadt city, he was ordered to repair an archway damaged by the gales. He accidentally fell from a height, and his left arm touched the wind wall surrounding the high tower. It was struck directly by the divine winds. Ever since then, he hasn't been able to lift that arm."
Just then, Walker seemed to sense their gazes from behind, stopped his work, and slowly turned around.
His eyes swept past Parsifal and then settled on the two new faces, Coppelia and Columbina, without much surprise.
Parsifal hurried forward to introduce them: "Uncle Walker, these two are guests, Miss Coppelia and Miss Columbina."
Walker nodded and spoke in a resonant voice that didn't quite match his aged frame: "You've come at a good time! Come, take a good look at my 'palace'! It's much warmer and sturdier than those drafty wooden shacks of yours!" His tone was filled with undisguised pride.
Columbina didn't speak, but instead bent slightly and slipped through the low entrance of the ice house. A moment later, she emerged, straightened up, and gave a slight nod, saying to Walker, and as if to everyone else, "Mm. It is indeed warmer inside than outside."
Disbelief was still written on Parsifal's face. He muttered under his breath, "Miss Columbina, you're dressed so... lightly. You don't even feel the cold in this icy weather, so of course you'd think anywhere is warm..." He glanced at Columbina's white dress, which seemed out of place for the season, her bare arms and calves seemingly oblivious to the cold wind.
Walker heard his muttering and shot him a glare. "See? The guest says it's warm! You young brat, you won't go in and see for yourself, yet you stand here making cynical remarks?"
Parsifal quickly waved his hands. "No, no! Grandpa Walker, I really think you shouldn't live in here. What if you freeze and ruin your health? Your arm is already inconvenient..."
Walker straightened his stooped back and retorted with vigor, "Do I look like I've been frozen sick? I've been living in here for days, and I feel more comfortable in my bones than I did in the wooden huts!"
Coppelia didn't join their argument; her attention was completely captivated by the ice house.
She took a few steps closer, carefully examining the seams between the ice blocks and the overall structure.
The ice blocks weren't cut perfectly smooth, but the angle of their placement and the method of filling the gaps were exceptionally clever, making the entire structure remarkably stable. The smooth curve maximized the material's properties and distributed the pressure.
It was hard to imagine that this was the work of an old man who could only use one arm freely.
...
Leaving the ice house and continuing through the settlement, Coppelia's thoughts lingered on Walker's immobile left arm.
She asked Parsifal, "Are there many people like Walker, who were directly injured by Decarabian's gales? Did you all leave Mondstadt mainly because you couldn't endure such harm?"
Parsifal shook his head. "No, not many."
Coppelia recalled their previous conversation. "Last time you guided us, you seemed to say it was more 'free' out here? Is that the reason?"
Parsifal's expression grew serious. He fell silent for a moment, as if organizing his thoughts.
"Our group, or rather, our fathers and grandfathers, were mostly knights of Mondstadt, sworn to protect all its people forever. But... in the line of duty, we also had to obey the orders of the nobles above us, to do their bidding. Yet, many times, those noble lords would order us to do things... that harmed other people of Mondstadt." His voice was heavy with suppressed pain.
"You couldn't bear that contradiction," Coppelia said with understanding.
"Yes." Parsifal took a deep breath of the cold air. "We tried to remonstrate with Decarabian, hoping he would restrain the nobles, or at least... see how the people below the tower were living. But it was useless, completely useless. The chief, that is, Miss Gunnhildr's father, he realized that Lord Decarabian would never change, and he also realized that we ourselves lacked the power to change the situation. With no other choice, the chief led us out of Mondstadt to find a new way to truly protect its people."
"We told the King of the North Wind of our plight and our oath. The Wolf King, though cold, accepted us and allowed us to settle on the edge of his territory." Parsifal's voice dropped. "But, as you can see, we aren't faring too well. We have the will to protect, but we lack the strength to achieve it."
Coppelia looked at him. "Even so, do you still intend to one day go and save the people in Mondstadt city?"
Parsifal answered almost without hesitation, "Of course!"
But this firm reply was immediately followed by a deflated tone. "But... we really can't find a good way."
___
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