282 Treacherous
Gardner Martin stepped out of the carriage and warmly embraced Lumian.
Oh, his attitude changed instantly… Lumian criticized as he returned the hug. After the embrace, Gardner Martin let go and smiled, declaring, “From now on, we’re true brothers.”
True brothers? Can I inherit your estate if you die? Lumian, whose mental state had improved significantly and had successfully passed the difficult “test,” held back his teasing thoughts.
“You’re still my boss,” Lumian said, his habitual loyalty shining through in his words.
He thought that while it might have been a bit over the top, the gesture didn’t feel insincere or out of place.
Gardner Martin laughed.
“In the future, when there’s nobody else around, you can call me ‘CO Sir.’”
“CO Sir…” Lumian found the title a little strange.
The Iron and Blood Cross Order was a secret organization, not an army.
Gardner Martin didn’t offer any explanation; he just smiled.
“Come to 11 Rue des Fontaines at 8 p.m. tonight. That’s when your initiation ritual will take place.”
With that, he gave Lumian’s shoulder a reassuring pat.
“Rest well now.”
Lumian acknowledged his words with a nod and bid farewell to the boss of the Savoie Mob. He made his way back to Auberge du Coq Doré and drew the curtains of Room 207.
It was already past 6 a.m., so Lumian didn’t need to catch up on sleep. He sat at the wooden table and began writing to Madam Magician. He recounted the previous night’s encounter and Termiboros’s performance. Finally, he inquired about how to report this matter to Mr. K.
Alone, Lumian couldn’t avoid the peculiar “abnormality” in the abandoned building. He needed to explain the situation convincingly to Mr. K without revealing that he possessed The Fool’s seal and an angel from the Inevitability domain.
After neatly folding the letter, Lumian set up a ritual and summoned the “doll” messenger in the light-gold dress.
The messenger lowered her head and nodded with satisfaction upon seeing the square-shaped letter.
As she levitated the letter, she warned Lumian, “Someone is still monitoring you.”
Huh? I didn’t notice it at all… His tracking, concealment, and observation skills are impressive… Lumian prided himself on being a skilled Hunter with strong anti-tracking abilities. Yet, he had failed to detect the presence of the monitors!
Mr. K’s subordinates? No, if Miss Messenger felt the need to warn me, it couldn’t be the Aurora Order… The monitors sent by Gardner Martin must still be lurking, even after passing the test and facing that abnormal corruption last night. I’ve let my guard down after being informed about my induction, and that’s made me vulnerable… Damn, how cunning! Lumian realized he had been too naive and not cautious enough compared to Gardner Martin.
If he hadn’t pretended to be exhausted from sleep deprivation and torture, drawing the curtains to sleep would’ve been an obvious red flag. It would have definitely raised suspicion among the monitors.
At the same time, Lumian was grateful that Madam Magician’s messenger seemed powerful enough not to be detected by the monitors.
After sending off the “doll” messenger, Lumian lay on the bed, waiting for a reply. When it finally arrived, he read the message carefully.
“As a secret organization with a history spanning two to three centuries, the Iron and Blood Cross Order doesn’t recruit members so readily. The fact that they are allowing new members to be corrupted goes against the test I know of.
“It appears that the Iron and Blood Cross Order has undergone some negative changes over the years. Don’t rush to uncover the reasons behind this just yet. Take it step by step and focus on protecting yourself for now.
“When Termiboros offered help and warned you, it was likely because He didn’t want you to be corrupted or perish outright. That would have an impact on Him. At the same time, He probably wants to earn your trust before revealing His true intentions at a critical moment.
“Always remember that an evil god’s angel is a true madman. He will surely bring disaster to you and those around you. Stay vigilant at all times. You must both use Him to your advantage and guard against His treachery.
“As for Mr. K, it’s simple. Just explain that you recited that entity’s honorific name at a crucial moment, and miraculously, you remained untainted.
“Don’t worry about him verifying the authenticity of your claim with that entity. Devout believers wouldn’t do such a thing. Besides, even the entity Himself might not be certain if He responded to your prayers.”
Wh— Lumian felt a bit bewildered by the last part.
How could a deity not know if He had responded to a specific believer?
Isn’t that too absurd?
In an instant, Lumian recalled something Madam Magician had once told him.
If he used anything other than the three-line honorific name to pray to Mr. Fool, she couldn’t guarantee that the response would be from that great being. It could be very dangerous.
Something similar to this situation? Matters involving deities are truly unfathomable. And any mistake could lead to a situation more tragic than death… Could Aurore have faced the same problem? Lumian’s thoughts drifted.
For the past few days, he had meticulously combed through Aurore’s grimoires, copying everything from the two highlighted time periods that Madame Justice had pointed out. His plan was to show it to the vice president of the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society, Madam Hela, when the opportunity arose.
Franca had already read through the corresponding content and found no suspicious details. The unconventional mysticism knowledge was just ordinary spells that could only be cast by a Warlock or Beyonder of the corresponding domain. Neither of them could practice it.
The only issue they found was that since the beginning of the year, Aurore’s grimoires had gained a significant amount of ritualistic knowledge related to sacrificial rituals and secret deeds. These were obtained from the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society, but they didn’t point to any evil god or hidden existence. They were more basic applications.
A crimson flame engulfed the letter, turning it to ash in Lumian’s hand.
He lay down and pretended to sleep, but his mind was busy contemplating the grimoires and planning his next steps.
The most important thing to him was that the one-month deadline set by the Prophecy Spell was approaching. Guillaume Bénet, the padre, would appear somewhere in Quartier de la Princesse Rouge.
…
In the hill district, at the entrance of Deep Valley Cloister.
Franca, dressed as a typical bounty hunter with a fake mustache and a top hat, sighed to Jenna,
“There’s really no clue at all.”
Jenna was disguised in a white shirt, brown vest, dark pants, and black boots, with a brown beret. She had altered her features slightly to look more ordinary, without any moles or smoky makeup.
As they gazed at the peculiar iron-black building with steel components and massive chimneys resembling steeples, it felt more like a special factory than the Church of the God of Steam and Machinery cloister.
At that moment, white smoke billowed from the chimneys, accompanied by a loud mechanical roar.
“It’s mainly because those monks don’t want to interact with outsiders…” Jenna replied, feeling frustrated.
For the past few days, they, like other bounty hunters and private detectives, were only allowed to enter the first-floor courtyard. They could only inquire with the new gatekeeper and a few other servants.
The ascetic monks only provided a list of relevant personnel’s statements.
Franca diverted her gaze and clicked her tongue.
“This won’t be an easy case. Otherwise, the official Beyonders would have figured it out by now.
“Since we can’t find any clues in the cloister, let’s take a look around.”
“Alright.” Jenna lacked experience in such investigations and was still learning from Franca.
They strolled around the cloister in the valley, occasionally encountering other investigators drawn by the high bounty.
After about fifteen minutes of walking, they came across a mountain wall showing signs of collapse and new trees growing.
On the side of the mountain wall, there was a cave sealed by a heavy wooden door. A man in his forties sat beside it, seeking shelter from the wind and rain.
He flipped through old newspapers with comic strips, occasionally chuckling. A brass key hung from his waist.
Franca approached and asked in a deliberate hoarse voice, “What’s this place?”
The plain-looking, slightly ragged man glanced up at Franca’s face and frowned a bit.
His gaze quickly shifted to Jenna, and he seemed more at ease.
“This is the entrance to the Deep Valley Quarry.
“I’m a gatekeeper.”
“Why is there a door, and why is it locked?” Jenna had seen a real quarry south of the market district.
“This place is abandoned and could collapse anytime. We can’t allow anyone daring enough to disturb a sleeping tiger,” the gatekeeper of the Deep Valley Quarry explained with a smile.
“Is this place not connected to Underground Trier?” Franca inquired.
The quarry’s gatekeeper shook his head.
“It’s on the verge of complete collapse. How could it be connected? I’m about to lose my job!”
With that, he looked at Jenna and tried to be friendly.
“Do you want some work? I’ll pay you to have some fun with me—just once.”
“You Trierians…” Franca tutted and shook her head.
Jenna responded with her usual catchphrase, rejecting his proposition.
…
8 p.m., 11 Rue des Fontaines.
Lumian followed Gardner Martin’s butler, Faustino, across the lawn and through the hall until they reached a windowless room.
Inside, there was a dining table, but it didn’t resemble a lavish villa restaurant. Instead, it appeared quite plain, almost empty.
Lumian glanced around and noticed three rows of dishes neatly arranged on the table. The first row held various utensils, the second row contained cups and bottles, and the third row displayed prepared dishes and unlit candles.
The setup was meticulously symmetrical, forming three parallel lines.
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