558 Tamara Family
Lumian savored the tang of fermented grape juice bought from a street vendor as he coolly surveyed the suite rented by the adventurer, Louis Berry. He occasionally cast a discerning eye over Aquina Street, on the lookout for any potential monitors.
A little over half an hour ago, Lumian had transformed his appearance and changed into a different outfit. He had seemingly “teleported” to a nearby street before returning to secure a suitable room.
Soon enough, Lumian spotted Lugano cautiously heading out to fetch an extra breakfast for Ludwig. A chuckle escaped him.
This guy was still spooked from yesterday’s attack.
However, unless the members of the Fisheries Guild had succumbed to the corrupting influence of superpowers, losing control of their emotions and rational thinking, it was improbable for them to target Lugano, the interpreter and guide. Louis Berry’s response the previous day had sent a clear message to everyone:
If you can’t take me out directly, keep your sights off those around me. You might eliminate me, but I, Louis Berry, can do the same. There’ll come a time when your Fisheries Guild’s committee members, your kids, and descendants travel without protection or lack strength. Wanna guess if I’d dare to make a move or if I have the capability?
Either find an opportunity to bring me down with all you’ve got, or play nice!
Faced with such a resolute “answer,” the rational committee members of the Fisheries Guild would know what to do. Louis Berry, the adventurer, wasn’t bound by official rules like a Beyonder or a cop. Expecting him not to involve family in the game was unrealistic.
Moreover, considering his recent behavior and the circulating rumors, he was a daring adventurer, reminiscent of Gehrman Sparrow. Known for his aggression, madness, and coldness, there were no limits to what such a person might do.
Of course, Lumian wasn’t letting his guard down entirely. Lugano would either have Ludwig’s “company” in the future, or he’d be under Lumian’s watchful eye at all times. After all, beyond the Fisheries Guild, many individuals in Port Santa were secretly plotting to exploit this opportunity for their own gain. Disguised as Fisheries Guild members, they could attack the interpreter and godson of the adventurer Louis Berry, intensifying the conflict and stirring up trouble prematurely.
Ignoring conspiracies at this level would be unacceptable for a Conspirer.
After Lugano returned to his suite on the fifth floor of Solow Motel with a heap of breakfast, Lumian purposefully avoided looking at the high-backed chair, seemingly adorned with a golden straw hat, positioned strategically at the dining table. He turned on his heel and exited the room, ready to explore the surroundings.
Stepping into the corridor, Lumian immediately spotted a burly man standing near the staircase, barely reaching 1.7 meters in height.
The man, with brown hair, brown eyes, and rugged skin, held a distinctive long mouth cigarette between his lips, fixing his gaze on Lumian.
In Highlander, the man inquired, “Who sent you here to keep an eye on Louis Berry?”
Lumian couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle.
“Are you not here to monitor Louis Berry yourself?
“I didn’t even inquire about your sender. Why the sudden curiosity?”
He responded in flawless Highlander as well.
The man, with the long mouth cigarette dangling, contemplated for a moment before nodding in agreement, making way for the stairs.
Lumian strolled past him, descending the staircase step by step.
As he departed, the man’s gaze took on a gradually ominous edge.
He raised his left hand, delicately twisting the special long mouth cigarette.
Taking a deep breath, he exhaled into the cigarette, and in silence, a slender steel needle shot forth from the charred tobacco, aimed directly at Lumian’s back, mere two meters away.
It was a blow dart, originating from certain tribes in the primitive forests of the Southern Continent. Typically, blow darts were one to two meters long, making them unsuitable for concealment or sneak attacks. However, bounty hunters, followers of the God of Steam and Machinery with strong hands, modified them into a more portable version—only slightly longer than regular cigarettes.
While this modification increased portability and its concealed nature, it sacrificed some power and limited its range to a mere four to five meters. When paired with specially crafted arrows carrying anesthetic and lethal toxins, it remained a favored tool among bounty hunters on both Northern and Southern Continents.
The man had concealed the blow dart within the long mouth cigarette, intending to lull the target and strike when the opportune moment arrived.
His objective: to subdue Lumian and extract information about the identity of his employer.
The steel needle flashed past, but Lumian seemed to have anticipated the attack. Just as the man blew air to propel the needle, Lumian swiftly bent forward, arched his spine, and dodged the blow dart in an almost inhuman contortion.
With a soft poof, the steel needle embedded itself into the wooden staircase.
In the next moment, the assailant’s eyes widened as Lumian, in a display of flexibility surpassing human limits, swung a boxing glove.
Bang!
He fainted.
Swiftly recovering from his contorted evasion, Lumian bent down, scooped up the unconscious assailant, and dragged him into his rented room.
Taking advantage of the assailant’s unconscious state, Lumian administered a dose of truth serum and calculated the time for him to regain consciousness.
Examining the unremarkable, ordinary face of his assailant, Lumian calmly listened to the panicked shout.
“I just wanted to incapacitate you and find a spot to interrogate you about your employer!
“The poison on the arrow is just an anesthetic!”
Squatting in front of the man, Lumian smiled and responded, “Now, let me ask you, who’s your employer?”
“It’s Juan Oro!” the brown-haired, brown-eyed man blurted out.
Lumian chuckled and probed further, “Is that so?”
“Yes, no, it’s actually someone else…” At this point, horror overcame the man, and he fell silent.
Lumian prompted him patiently.
“Who is it?”
After struggling for a few seconds, the man involuntarily spoke,
“Rubió Paco.”
Rubió… Why is he keeping tabs on me? Does he seek to gain from the adventurer’s activities? Is that why he didn’t approach me discreetly to share information? Lumian nodded subtly and straightened up.
“Your breath stinks. Remember to brush your teeth more often.”
“…” The assailant looked perplexed, unable to fathom why the conversation had taken this turn. Nonetheless, he replied half-heartedly, “I’m not a fan of brushing my teeth.”
Lumian shook his head in disdain, uninterested in the blow dart as a trophy. Leaving the room, he left a parting message: “Make sure to lock the door behind me.”
…
In Trier, within Quartier de la Cathédrale Commémorative, Franca and Jenna’s rented apartment.
They had already received Madam Judgment’s response via Rabbit Chasel.
Before departing, Rabbit Chasel, adorned with a miniature top hat, shrunken gold-rimmed glasses, and a diminutive black trench coat, made an unusual request.
“Can I use a custom-made revolver as compensation for delivering the next five letters?”
Jenna’s mouth hung open, momentarily taken aback.
“Sure.”
She questioned, “Why can’t you conjure one yourself?”
Similar to your top hat, glasses, and trench coat.
“They have no practical use, but I hope the revolver does. The bullets need to be custom-made too,” Rabbit Chasel explained earnestly.
Jenna blinked and acquiesced.
Once the messenger departed, Franca commented with a peculiar expression,
“Why does it feel like it has shifted from pursuing knowledge to pursuing strength?”
Jenna wanted to defend Rabbit Chasel but struggled to find a compelling excuse. Instead, she cursed, “It’s not necessarily a bad thing. It might even aid me in future battles!
“Moreover, the stronger the messenger, the safer the letter deliveries.”
Franca, lacking a messenger, suddenly felt a twinge of envy. Without delay, she unfolded Madam Judgment’s reply.
“The Tamara family, one of the five noble families from the Fourth Epoch’s Tudor Empire, held a hereditary duke aristocratic title, akin to the Amon you’re familiar with, albeit slightly lower in status.
“In the era when the gods roamed the land, families capable of becoming great nobles undoubtedly possessed angelic powers. According to the information, the Tamara family had existed for many years before Alista Tudor became the Blood Emperor. They were renowned nobles from the previous empire.
“They had the coat of arms changed once and two internal divisions. This is why Tamara was buried on different levels of the catacombs at different times.
“Initially, their coat of arms consisted of thorns, a shieldwall, and vertical swords. Later, it became an open door, with the vertical sword acting as the crack.
“This represents a significant change in the Tamara family. It shifted from being dominated by the Justiciar pathway to being dominated by the Apprentice pathway. However, no corresponding historical information has appeared for the time being.
“A small number of members of the Tamara family, who adhere to the Judgment pathway, have survived to this day and are secretly active.
“The other Tamara group had established a close connection with the Demoness family during the Tudor Empire’s era. During the Fifth Epoch, a secret organization known as the Theosophy Order emerged. It had Demoness figures and originated from Tamara’s Apprentice pathway. There’s reason to believe that they are still cooperating.
“This Tamara group has been estranged from the other one for many years, refusing to acknowledge each other.
“The Tamaras of the Judgment pathway also experienced a division. The exact situation is unknown…”
Upon reading this, Franca and Jenna shared the same thought.
The Tamara family is indeed connected to the Demonesses!
They continued reading the contents of the letter.
“The person who led you to the Tamara family’s tomb and discovered the Mirror World Fragment is likely targeting that special mirror world and the Demoness Sect. Don’t worry for the time being. Just be vigilant against coincidences, theft, and scams around you…”
…
In the ensuing days, Lumian, along with Lugano and Ludwig, remained unharmed.
Port Santa seemed to settle back into a semblance of normalcy. Those secretly observing displayed no indications of advancing further.
Just as Lumian contemplated taking further actions to elucidate all details before the sea prayer ritual in early November, the Knight of Swords brought fresh information regarding Nolfi and Batna.
His face maintaining a pale-white hue, he spoke to Lumian, “I’ve identified a suspect involved in the kidnapping of the two targets. Should I handle it alone, or shall we proceed together?”
Lumian took a moment to consider before responding, “Together.”
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