The smell of blood pricked at her nostrils. Nohr Aria first noticed it deep in the forest, in the moment she felt the withered leaves beneath her feet were strangely waterlogged. When she lowered her gaze, dark red stains trailed in dots. They stretched endlessly toward an old stone shrine. But that was still slightly ahead of where the story truly began—it had to start from the harbor warehouse of Hermia Free Trade City. --- The warehouse, where sea wind whistled through the gaps, was dim. The smell of salt and aged wood mingled together. Nohr Aria knelt on the ground, opening wooden crates one by one. Her amber eyes carefully examined the contents. Her father's personal effects, ledgers of commercial transactions, and shipping certificates of unclear meaning were crammed inside with almost no distinction. Yorn Nohr, her father, had been an excellent merchant, but he possessed no concept of organization whatsoever. "He was always such a mess," Aria murmured to herself with a sma