For Felix, the way to Yan Country was all too familiar. To reach it from Laterano, the route inevitably passed through Siracusa. If he drove in a straight line, he would have to cross Kazdel’s territory.

Of course… Kazdel’s land was already ruined beyond recognition.

Besides, everyone riding in his truck had personally ended Sarkaz lives before. Even if a Sarkaz mercenary squad tried to stop them for a brawl, the outcome would be nothing but a massacre.

Siracusa held little sentimental value for Felix. The only thing he really cared for was its traditional cuisine. The mafia system there didn’t mean much to him. But for his squadmates—most of whom were leaving Laterano for the first time—this was an adventure. Since he also needed to restock supplies, Felix steered the truck toward the mobile city of Florence.

The city was still the Saluzzo family’s turf, unchanged from years past—though larger now, with more underlings running about.

Felix pulled out a coin: [Saluzzo’s Token], and handed it to the mafioso guarding the gate. The man immediately straightened up and respectfully ushered him inside.

“You’ve been here before?” Mostima noticed the exchange, her keen eyes catching the underlings’ sudden nervous reverence.

“Yeah. I did some business with the local boss back then. But this time, I’m not here for deals. I’m here for the food, aren’t you?”

Mostima chuckled softly. “You’re not wrong. This is, after all, the first city we’ve set foot in since leaving Laterano. I can’t wait to see what Siracusa has to offer.”

“Mm… Last time I was here, there was this beachside-style pineapple pizza place. Huh? Closed down already? Tch, guess I’ll have to find something else.”

—

News traveled fast in the family. Barely had Felix set foot in the city when word reached Alberto Saluzzo himself.

Alberto remembered Felix clearly. After all, this was the man who had once provided weapons for the family—giving Saluzzo unrivaled power in Florence. In that sense, Alberto had a favorable impression of him.

“Who’s with him?” Alberto asked.

“Two Sankta. Three Liberi,” the mafioso messenger reported dutifully.

“…I see.”

Alberto thought for a moment. “Sounds like a squad operation. In that case, no need to interfere. Just extend some goodwill. The Pioneers have been business partners before.”

“Understood.”

The underling hurried away.

Showing goodwill was the right call. When a Pioneer squad was on the move, it was best to give them face and cooperate.

That was reality. In Siracusa, families smiled on the surface while holding daggers in their hearts. In the end, the boss always chose the most pragmatic path. Just like Alberto now—there was no reason to pick a fight with the Pioneers. Better to maintain ties. Leave a line today, and you’ll have a way back tomorrow. That was the first rule of survival.

With that thought, Alberto turned to his steward.

“Bring Lappland and Cellinia.”

“Yes, boss.”

Before long, Lappland and Cellinia arrived, both still sweating from training.

“What’s the job this time?” Lappland asked impatiently. “Who do you need us to cut down?”

“Not killing.”

Alberto snorted, nearly crushing the orange in his hand. “The Pioneers are back in city for the first time in years. It’ll just be a short stay. You two were on good terms with him back then—go pay him a visit.”

“Not just a visit, is it?” Lappland narrowed her eyes. Her instincts were sharp. “You’re trying to get closer to the Pioneers again, aren’t you? Planning to buy more weapons?”

“Not for now,” Alberto replied coolly. Being too strong, far stronger than the other families, was a curse in itself—it only made you a bigger target. And looming above them all sat Lady Sicily, who commanded her own mafia army. If she ever chose to strike, the Saluzzo family’s fate would be sealed.

A single dominant power was never Alberto’s goal. What he wanted was to quietly make money from the shadows, unbothered and unseen. But recent successes had made some members of the Saluzzo family restless. Inflated with ambition, they dreamed of replacing other families in the mobile cities. Alberto could only sneer at their foolishness, and promptly sent those hotheaded fools far, far away.

“I get it now,” Lappland said flatly. “So, old man, you don’t want to strengthen yourself with new weapons and risk drawing attention, but you also don’t want to alienate the Pioneer—since you might still do business with him later. That about right?”

“You see it more clearly than those brainless young upstarts in the family,” Alberto admitted.

“Boring. Can I skip the next family gathering?”

The orange in Alberto’s hand was crushed to pulp. He coughed lightly and said, “Just go see the Pioneer. That’s all—just see him.”

“Fine. Not like I’ve got anything better to do at home anyway.”

Lappland grabbed Cellinia’s hand and dragged her toward the door.

Cellinia still had a year left before adulthood. After that, she would be sent back to the Texas family—sometime in 1092. Alberto, of course, had his own plans for that. Years of raising and caring for Cellinia gave him confidence that, in time, he could win the Texas family’s support. An alliance wasn’t out of the question.

Though based in Columbia, the Texas family had never truly cut ties with Siracusa. They regularly sent envoys to the Gray Hall to present offerings to Lady Sicily and attended the family gatherings without fail. They were the most “Siracusan” of Columbia’s families.

Alberto wasn’t coveting their people—what he coveted was their access. In Columbia, the Texas family could easily acquire advanced technology and equipment. If Saluzzo could secure an alliance with them, the family’s strength would rise to a whole new level.

Outside, once the two girls had stepped beyond Saluzzo territory, Lappland finally let go of Cellinia’s hand.

By year’s end—or perhaps early next year—Cellenina would likely begin her journey back to Columbia. When that time came, she and Lappland would have to part ways. Who knew when they’d meet again.

But for now, Lappland was still right here at her side.

“Ah, damn. Forgot to ask the old man which inn Pioneer’s staying at… Guess we’ll have to squeeze it out of some underling.”

Lappland slapped her forehead, then glanced at the quiet Cellinia. “Honestly, I don’t remember that much about Pioneer. But I do remember his face. Hard to forget someone like that. Florence doesn’t exactly have guys that good-looking, you know.”

“And you, Cellinia? Do you miss him?”

Lappland’s eyes flicked down to the handgun holstered at Cellinia’s waist, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “That pistol of yours—you keep it on you every day. You always carve out time to practice Originium Arts with it. Don’t tell me you don’t have plenty you want to say to Pioneer when you see him again.”

“…Not that much, really.”

Cellinia’s hand brushed the grip of her sidearm. Aside from her sword, it was the weapon she used most often. She hadn’t fired it many times, but each practice session, each disassembly, she treated as a test of herself.

That pistol… Pioneer had called it Guardian.

If she became stronger, would she truly be able to protect the people around her?

That was what young Cellinia once believed. Now, as she grew older, she wasn’t so sure anymore.

“Let’s go,” she said quietly.

“Yeah, yeah. Just don’t run off too fast when we see Pioneer, alright?”

“…”

Cellinia ignored Lappland’s teasing. But the thought lingered—

It really had been a long time, hadn’t it?

Before long, she would return to Columbia. Pioneer, a Sankta, would remain stationed in Laterano. The distance between Columbia and Laterano was vast. Could this reunion be their last?

As she matured, Cellinia had come to understand a simple truth: every meeting could be the last. Especially for someone like her, leaving the Saluzzo family soon. She had come here as a political hostage, lived for years under the weight of others’ power… then met Lappland, who became her friend.

Would she ever see Pioneer again?

She didn’t know.

—

Soft music drifted through the air, blending with bursts of laughter and the mouthwatering aroma of pizza. Together, these formed the essence of Siracusan life.

For Spuria, it was overwhelming. She had never experienced such a lively scene before. The scent alone was enough to stir her appetite.

The others felt the same. Plume, Patia, and Fiammetta, their stomachs empty, eagerly stepped inside. They stared wide-eyed at the unfamiliar menu, relying on pictures alone to make their choices.

Before leaving Laterano, they had done their homework. Knowing this journey would take them across new lands and cultures, they had buried themselves in guidebooks and histories from the public library. That preparation freed them now to focus only on their travel plans—and their stomachs.

Felix slid into his seat, flipping through the menu with practiced ease. He searched carefully, but the beach-style pineapple pizza he remembered was nowhere to be found. A shame—he had planned to order it, thinking the Sankta’s sweet tooth would have loved its flavor.

“What’s good here?” Mostima asked, tapping her fingers against her knee as she sat beside him.

“Everything’s good. But we can order different dishes and trade tastes later.”

“Oh? You mean mouth-to-mouth trading?”

“Pffft!”

Across the table, Fiammetta spat out her water, barely managing to keep it from spraying onto either of them.

“…Mostima. You’ve changed.” Her eyes narrowed, complicated, as she looked at her former squadmate—now the subject of her oversight.

“Changed for the better?” Mostima tilted her head with a faint smile.

“I don’t know. But maybe save that kind of behavior for private, hmm?” Fiammetta said seriously. Pure and unpracticed in such matters, the “Heaven’s Supervisor” found herself rattled by Mostima’s boldness.

“Jealous, are we?”

“Who’d be jealous of that?” Fiammetta muttered, rolling her eyes.

Felix ignored their banter. His gaze shifted to the window. From the moment they’d approached this restaurant, he had felt it—that faint, lingering weight of unseen eyes. And it hadn’t left since.

Surveillance? Or something else?

Before he could act, the restaurant’s owner appeared at their table, smiling as brightly as the sun.

“Honored guests, our little shop has been running a commemorative event with other businesses in the city. And you’ve just become our 100,000th customers! Congratulations! Today’s meal is completely free, and drinks are unlimited.”

Felix paused only for a moment before realizing the truth—this was the Saluzzo family’s doing.

The same thing had happened years ago, when he last stopped in Florence. After building rapport with them, the family had bent over backward to smooth his stay. Hotel fees waived, markets prepped in advance… even rare metals he needed suddenly stocked, and always at a discount.

Sure enough, at the corner of the alley outside the window, Felix spotted several men in black—the Saluzzo family’s foot soldiers.

When they noticed his gaze, they immediately bowed in greeting, as if they were saluting an important figure of the family itself.

With the “generosity” of the Siracusan family and the pizza shop owner, lunch passed in high spirits. The squad enjoyed the spread of Siracusan dishes, though a lingering curiosity remained in their hearts about the sweet pizza Felix had once mentioned.

After the meal, Felix dismissed the squad for the day. They would remain in Florence until morning, resupplying and resting—because ahead lay long stretches without docking at any mobile city. Once they reached Kazdel, resupply would be out of the question.

For now, they were free to wander. The mood shifted, as if they had joined a sightseeing tour rather than a mission, and no one objected to Felix’s decision.

Fiammetta stayed close, not far from Felix and Mostima, her gaze occasionally flicking toward the two staffs slung across Mostima’s back.

It was just as the three of them stepped out of the restaurant, chatting casually, that a figure crashed straight into Felix at the front.

“Ow, ow, ow…”

Beneath his clothes, Felix’s mechanical armor was solid as steel. Running into it head-on would hurt, and clearly, it did.

He caught the person before she stumbled back, and when he saw the familiar hair color and that teasing little smile, he laughed.

“Long time no see, Lappland.”

“Ha, what a coincidence, Pioneer. I guess I did miss you a little,” Lappland chuckled, rubbing her reddened nose. It had hurt.

“But compared to me, someone else missed you even more.”

Her gaze slid aside.

“Nothing you want to say, now that you’ve met him again, Cellinia?”

Standing just behind Lappland, Cellinia fixed her expressive eyes on Felix. In them flickered emotions she couldn’t voice.

At his side, Mostima watched with her usual faint smile. She leaned close to whisper in Felix’s ear.

“And who might these two little sisters be? You don’t mind introducing me, do you?”

…Why did there always seem to be more little sisters everywhere he went?

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep