Mark of the Firefly (Tsukkiyama)

Trespassing on Empirical Property

The massive train station was beautiful even in the darkness of night; it was perhaps the most impressive piece of architectural infrastructure Yamaguchi had ever seen. Despite the time, the platform was well-lit, with constantly burning lanterns of brass and translucent white glass strung out under the roof like flickering stars. The roof itself was another wonder, entirely made of multicolor stained glass in hues of deep blue and purple; the light surely looked stunning in the daytime. The floor was made of perfectly polished marble, and the walls were a sturdy dark wood, something expensive that Yamaguchi did not recognize. The entire thing instilled him with a sense of splendor and grandeur that made him feel incredibly small and insignificant.

There was no time to muse upon the futility of human existence, however, as Bokuto quickly ushered them off the train. Each one of them, Kageyama, Yamaguchi, Tsukishima, Yachi, and Hinata, who had insisted on tagging along for 'safety reasons', had been given a good winter cloak, simple enough for them to pass as plain workers and to hide their faces from anyone on the lookout for their band of barely-adults. The Nekarasi could stay for no longer than two days before they had to leave again; Yamaguchi hoped that he, Kageyama, and Hinata would be able to make it back in time, otherwise they would have to have Hinata fly them out, and Yamaguchi wasn't all that fond of the last flying trip the redhead had taken him on.

The city, much like its entry station, was absolutely beautiful, down to the last detail. Granted, they were in the wealthy part of the city, but these places rarely had a true poor section, at least not the kind of poor Yamaguchi was accustomed to. The streets were paved with clean and uncracked cobblestone. There was even a marked-off section for pedestrians to safely walk on, a notable difference from Tauveriin where they had needed to dodge the horse carts. On the topic of locomotion, the people of Haibuichi were evidently wealthy enough to afford automated vehicles. Shiny automobiles in black, blue, and the occasional dark green or red, frequented the street in equal numbers as the horse-drawn carriages, which themselves were of extravagant make. The buildings were, in many places, tall, built mostly of stone, and covered in beautiful vines. Where there weren't homes and businesses, there were green spaces, areas of moss and grass, full of both evergreens and what were likely flowering trees. Even in the dead season of winter, it was a beautiful sight. The way was lit by street lamps, of the same fashion as in the train station, and while the stars were dimmer in the city than in the outskirts, the air was the cleanest thing Yamaguchi had ever breathed. Even Yachi, who had grown up in the Firefly Empire, seemed speechless at the city's glory.

Slightly tainting the exotic beauty were the guards at every corner. The city was absolutely crawling with them, all walking ramrod with perfect posture and dressed in their black and moon-yellow regalia. They were not so outwardly hostile to civilians as Ticks were, but it didn't take a genius to tell they were on edge. The, surprisingly many, citizens out and about also seemed jumpy: they glanced to and fro and veered away from strangers. Their faces remained mostly calm and pleasant, but their eyes betrayed the subtly creeping fear felt by the masses. Yamaguchi was sure that their group, consisting of three tall men, dressed in hooded cloaks did little to ease the wealthy people of the city. Still, they made sure to keep their pace leisurely and unhurried so as to not raise any suspicion. The last thing anyone needed was to be arrested by the very people they sought to protect.

Finally, after a good forty-five minutes of deliberately casual strolling, they got their first, to everyone but Tsukishima, glimpse of the palace. It loomed over the city, illuminated at one end and casting a great shadow on the other: an ostentatious display of wealth and power. There had to have been at least seven levels, even more in the higher parts, built up with dark wood and whitewashed stone. The sloping and upturned roof wore elaborate garb of gold and copper, stained green by time, with gargoyle-Esque statuettes at each corner, ever watching. Vines of many varieties crept up the siding and dangled off the roof and parapets. Beyond the walls, Yamaguchi could see the skeletal frame of winter-dead trees, positioned perfectly to provide shade in the hot days of summer. Columns inlaid with gold and perfectly painted details lined courtyards and open-air corridors. Nearly every window had been blessed with a generously sized balcony, kept safe by perfectly polished brass railings. The sprawling building seemed as if it had been pulled directly from a storybook; if someone had asked Yamaguchi to describe what he thought a royal palace would look like, his imagining wouldn't have even been half as magnificent as the Firefly Palace.