“The first possibility is that things aren’t as serious as we imagine, nor do they involve extraordinary powers like Revelators, the Blessed Ones, or the followers of the Old Gods.
“Perhaps there are simply some issues with his fiancée, or his parents heard that he actually arranged to meet her before the engagement, and in their anger, placed him under house arrest to let him reflect on his actions.”
Listening to this, the others nodded.
They had to admit, they vastly preferred this possibility to be true. No one wanted a fellow Revelator classmate—who they had just seen a few days ago, studying and progressing together—to meet an untimely end just like that.
“And the second possibility is—it is related to Revelators.”
Carol fell silent for a moment at this point.
“Just now, Siles told me about some records in their family archives.” Carol nodded at Siles. “This gave me a thought. What if someone heard clues about this and wanted to obtain that pamphlet, or at least learn more information?”
“Is the mastermind a believer of the god described in that rumor?” Siles asked, but then added with slight confusion, “However, something hiding within dark clouds… this doesn’t seem to match any of the Old Gods.”
There were no descriptions of any Old Gods relating to this.
Carol nodded, then shook his head. “There are many things about the Old Gods that we are not clear enough on. In short, the mastermind might have been looking for the right opportunity all along. Even Brewer’s fiancée might have been arranged by them.
“They might have planned for them to get engaged, marry, and start a family step-by-step, and then Brewer’s wife could naturally gain access to the family archives to search for any secrets that might exist within the Darrow family.
“But, at this exact moment, Brewer became a Revelator.”
Angela blurted out, “So they ran out of time!”
Carol nodded approvingly. “Yes. Once Brewer learned of the existence of the followers of the Old Gods, he would realize how important the related descriptions in his family records were.”
Siles and his classmates exchanged glances. Finally, Darrell couldn’t help but ask out of confusion, “But, Carol, that’s just… some records in an archive. The pamphlet has long been lost. Why is this so important?”
Carol pondered for a moment and said, “This is a rather complex concept.” He looked at Siles. “I recall there is a concept in Age of Silence literature, where some scholars refer to the works of the believers of fallen gods as ‘spiritual pollution’?”
Siles froze for a moment, a bad premonition rising in his heart. He said, “Yes, because those works contain overly intense personal emotions.”
Carol once again nodded and shook his head. “You are partially correct. Those works are indeed incredibly infectious. But, from another perspective, to a Revelator, they represent ‘spiritual pollution’ in the truest sense of the word.”
A faint realization dawned on Siles. “You mean… just like how a Revelator who reproduces the power of a specific path over a long period might become a follower of the corresponding Old God… like that?”
“Yes.” Carol nodded.
Siles looked at him, feeling a subtle sense of powerlessness rising within.
Angela exclaimed softly, “But… haven’t the gods already fallen?!”
The Old Gods had clearly fallen, yet reproducing Their power now could still turn someone into Their believer… This sounded truly inconceivable.
“The power of the gods is beyond our comprehension now. It is too magnificent, too immense,” Carol said seriously. “Therefore, even though They have fallen, ‘pollution’ related to Them still exists in this world.”
“Coming from…?”
“Anything that mentions Them themselves, especially things from before the Age of Mists that are related to the Old Gods,” Carol said.
Noticing that the people present didn’t quite seem to understand, he gave an example: “Simply put, the bookshelves here are filled with books, many of which mention the Old Gods.
“However, these books were all written during these four hundred years of the Age of Mists, and the parts concerning the Old Gods speak in broad generalities, so they won’t severely impact our minds.
“But in Brewer’s family archives, the description of that pamphlet, even though it was also recorded during the Age of Mists, mentions an item from before the Age of Mists that was related to an Old God.
“That makes a massive difference.”
Siles thought about it carefully, and finally said, “The core issue lies in a specific, directional… item. A Time Trace?”
“Yes.” Carol nodded. “Usually, this spiritual pollution transmitted from the Old Gods is spread through a physical, existing item.
“Of course, there are many types of Time Traces. They could be sounds, pictures, texts, traces, or even… biological imprints.”
He muttered the last term vaguely.
No one had the presence of mind right now to wonder what exactly that was, but Siles keenly noticed that this was something mentioned in Grenfield’s notebook—something too advanced that he didn’t need to study just yet.
Biological imprints. He couldn’t help but wonder, what exactly was that?
He decided to record this question in his little notebook as well.
Carol steered the topic back. “Therefore, to these potential followers of the Old Gods, they firmly believe that this ‘pollution’ can be reverse-engineered to deduce the location and state of the Old God, helping them awaken the slumbering deity.
“That’s right, they believe the Old Gods are merely slumbering, not fallen.”
Mrs. Fuller asked, “You mean to say, they are collecting these… Time Traces that harbor pollution?”
“Yes,” Carol said. “Many followers of the Old Gods refer to these things as ‘Divine Exuviae’.”
Exuviae. They all murmured and pondered the meaning of this word.
“And regarding Brewer’s situation, these followers might be even more agitated,” Carol sighed. “Because that is a record of a believer meeting a god face-to-face.
“If someone truly ‘saw’ a god in the truest sense, then the severity of this pollution… would be far more… maddening than we can imagine.”
He ultimately chose that word.
“But Brewer shouldn’t be in too much danger right now, right?” Angela thought carefully. “As long as his family is willing to hand over the archives… Uh, that sounds a bit difficult.”
The others looked at her.
Angela smiled bitterly. “Noble families always have… some bizarre and eccentric rules. To them, family archives are like ledgers of past glory; they are more important than life itself.”
“The Darrow family,” Mrs. Fuller suddenly said. “I know of this family. They cling to the old ways and are currently in decline. As for Brewer’s fiancée, I know nothing about her.”
Angela was silent for a moment before adding, “The more that is the case, the less willing they will be to hand over the family archives.”
Eric sucked in a breath and asked, “Then… is there still time?”
Carol spoke up at the right moment. “You don’t need to worry too much about this matter. The Historical Society has specialists responsible for handling these situations. The followers of the Old Gods can be considered our old rivals; they wouldn’t dare just murder him outright.”
Hearing this, the others breathed a sigh of relief.
Angela’s mood seemed to ease a bit. She asked curiously, “Your attitude seems…”
“Not that worried or anxious?” Carol smiled. “They are indeed dangerous, but they have also never truly succeeded in what they want to do—which is to resurrect the Old Gods.
“Furthermore, within Lamifa City, their activities are much more cautious. After all, the official government of the Duchy of Konst is not lenient. In the Ashless Land, however, things might be the complete opposite.”
Darrell also asked, “So, what we need to do most is maintain our caution and vigilance in our daily lives?”
Carol nodded. “Aside from situations like Brewer’s, which might provoke them into striking proactively, what you need to pay attention to at other times are Time Traces of unknown origin.
“Those might be things that the followers of the Old Gods have intentionally or unintentionally sent to your side… ‘Divine Exuviae’, according to their terminology.”
Those Time Traces would harbor the pollution of the Old Gods’ will.
Darrell couldn’t help but gasp, asking, “Is that… spiritual deactivation?”
“Yes, the result is spiritual deactivation… Of course, we can’t say that everything is done by the followers of the Old Gods,” Carol said vaguely. “But the vast majority, yes. Some followers believe that this process is exactly the process of awakening an Old God.”
Transferring human spiritual vitality to the Divine Exuviae?
“How disgusting,” Angela whispered.
Her words actually lightened the heavy atmosphere in the room a bit.
They expanded on this topic slightly, but didn’t delve into anything too profound.
Carol mentioned a few common dangers, such as certain antiques, archives and manuscripts of unknown origin, or items coming from the Ashless Land.
When he said this, he specifically directed his gaze at Siles and Angela, especially the former.
The others also looked at Siles—even though they were all studying literature history, a professor’s research would inevitably be deeper than a student’s. Thus, they were somewhat worried that Siles might inadvertently acquire some dangerous items.
…No, it should be said, acquire some dangerous items again. After all, he had already run into trouble once before.
Siles thought for a moment and said, “Not long ago, I acquired a travelogue. The owner of the travelogue was an explorer of the Ashless Land. However, due to a language barrier, I haven’t read it yet.”
Carol listened earnestly and offered his advice: “Travelogues from the Ashless Land are generally fine. Especially if there is a language barrier, the situation is much better—I mean, if the text truly does harbor the pollution of an Old God.
“However, please make sure to be careful with the translation process.”
Siles thanked him sincerely.
Time ticked by, and at four o’clock, they concluded the day’s class.
Driven by an unknown sentiment, Carol once again repeatedly urged them to remain cautious and pay attention to their safety—probably feeling that this study group was truly prone to disasters.
After Carol left, the five Revelators looked at each other and then burst into laughter.
Darrell said, “Our luck really is terrible enough. I hope that guy Brewer is alright.”
“If those followers of the Old Gods need something from his family,” Mrs. Fuller said, “then he shouldn’t be in any grave danger. He might just be under house arrest.”
Angela sighed, muttering softly, “Who knows if those people still have any sanity left?”
Finally, Siles said calmly, “When Monday comes, we will know the results of the Society’s investigation.” He hesitated for a moment, then looked at Mrs. Fuller.
Mrs. Fuller understood and nodded. “I will try to ask around about the Darrow family’s recent situation.”
Angela also realized and quickly said, “I will too!”
They nodded to each other, then said their goodbyes and parted ways. Siles walked out alongside Eric.
Eric looked somewhat worried as he said, “I just feel this isn’t that simple. What do you think… is exactly hiding within those dark clouds?”
Siles shook his head. “I have no idea either.”
Eric sighed. “We can only rely on the Historical Society.”
“They have more experience,” Siles said. “As for us… we can only wait and see how things unfold.”
Eric nodded with a sigh.
Siles changed the subject. “Let’s go. Let’s head back to the West City together.”
“Ernestine?”
“Of course,” Siles said.
The appearance of the Ernestine Tavern was quite different from the first time Siles had visited.
They arrived at Ernestine at dusk. Taking a hired carriage had saved them quite a bit of time.
During the carriage ride, Siles took the opportunity to tell Eric that Bertram was looking for a suitable person to collect rent, and mentioned that he had recommended Eric for the job.
Eric was overwhelmingly grateful and surprised, completely unexpectedly, that Siles would help him with this.
He said gratefully, “Thank you! Siles, I really don’t know what to say. My wife’s health really isn’t very good; she used to be able to go out and work, but now she can only do some craftwork at home. I really didn’t expect…”
“No need to thank me,” Siles said softly. “It was just lifting a finger. Perhaps I can take you to meet Bertram tomorrow… No, perhaps we might bump into him at the trade fair today.”
Eric nodded and didn’t say anything more, deeply etching this favor into his heart.
He insisted on paying for the carriage fare and treated Siles to dinner at Ernestine.
His emotions remained visibly elevated, only slowly calming down during dinner as he quietly explained the format and stall layout of the trade fair to Siles. This information was crucial for Siles.
Although it was called the Ernestine Trade Fair, the fair wasn’t actually located in the above-ground part of the Ernestine Tavern, but underground. Ernestine served as the entrance and exit to this massive underground market.
When Eric mentioned that nearly a thousand merchants of all sizes were participating in this fair, Siles was extremely astonished. He couldn’t help but repeat, “Nearly a thousand!”
“Yes,” Eric said. “Before the October Birth Market, this is the grandest trade fair in the city. However, it’s limited to the West City. People from the East City wouldn’t come to attend this fair.”
Siles nodded, then asked in confusion, “Is there such a massive space underground beneath Ernestine?”
Eric looked around very cautiously—there were still quite a few people in the tavern; some eating, some drinking, some who knew about the fair, and some who just came for the food—before answering the question in a low voice: “To most people, this is a secret.”
Siles was surprised to hear this word, and he also lowered his voice: “I will keep this secret.”
Eric was actually just joking. He chuckled and said, “It’s actually an underground tunnel network. Can you imagine the scene? In crowded, narrow, and dim underground tunnels, merchants lean against the walls displaying their goods.
“And people jostle against each other, even bumping shoulders with those next to them, smelling the sweat and perfume of those nearby. Terrified of bumping their heads against the tunnel ceiling, they can only walk with their backs slightly hunched.
“When they want to stop at a certain stall, they have to turn sideways and squeeze into the empty spaces on either side of the stall. They might even run into congestion caused by people queuing up.
“Yet, people continue to carefully search for the items they want in these maze-like tunnels…”
Eric took a deep breath.
Siles said softly, “I feel you have quite excellent eloquence.”
Eric couldn’t help but laugh. “But, it really is like a maze. Every year, there are always guests who get lost inside, and we have to guide them out. That’s exactly why I need to take shifts at this time.”
Siles nodded and asked again, “How come there is such a massive underground tunnel network?”
“I recall it has to do with the history of the Duchy of Konst,” Eric answered, somewhat uncertainly. “You know, the West City is the earliest developed area of Lamifa City, and at that time, the Duchy of Konst hadn’t been established for very long.
“The first Grand Duke of Konst built many evacuation tunnels underground. However, later, as the Principality grew stronger and Lamifa City expanded into the East City, these underground tunnels were gradually abandoned. Eventually, they fell into the hands of the Old City’s underground gangs.”
Siles nodded thoughtfully.
After explaining this, Eric introduced the layout of the stalls for this trade fair to Siles.
“What do you want to buy? I can take you to have a look first,” Eric said.
Siles thought for a moment and said, “What interests me… is probably still books, archives, and things like that.”
“As expected,” Eric laughed. “Let’s go, we’ll take a look. Today is the first day; perhaps not many people are interested in those books and pamphlets, so you can take your time browsing.”
Siles followed Eric to a small door on the side of Ernestine’s kitchen. As Eric led him inside, he said, “If you want to come in the future, you can just go straight in through here yourself.”
“Alright,” Siles said softly.
Eric opened the small door, revealing pitch-black stairs leading downwards, with no end in sight. On the walls, there was a dim wall lamp every ten meters or so. From the far end, a lively, noisy, yet somewhat muffled sound drifted up.
Looking into the distance, amidst the flickering lights, Siles could see a few faint figures also walking downwards.
What surprised Siles even more was that he could see a blue glow flickering on some of those figures. The dim yellow lights and the faint icy-blue glow combined to create a bizarre and eerie scene.
Siles had consumed a portion of a 5% purity magic potion in the morning, meaning his ritual time could last for fifteen hours. By now, the effect of [The Silent Heart] had worn off, but he still had nearly four hours of ritual time remaining.
Earlier, while at Lamifa University, he had unexpectedly discovered that his apprentice, Dorothea Grant, was a Revelator.
In the afternoon at the Historical Society, the blue glow emanating from the group of Revelators gathered in the space behind the door had left a deep impression on him.
However, after leaving the Historical Society, he hadn’t seen much of this blue glow. This made him feel that there weren’t actually that many Revelators within Lamifa City.
But this Ernestine Trade Fair had actually gathered so many of them?
Siles couldn’t help but feel surprised, and a stronger sense of caution arose within him. His own experiences, as well as Brewer’s potential troubles, made him much more vigilant towards the dark undercurrents surging in this world.
Feigning casualness, Siles asked, “For an occasion like this, I imagine quite a few Revelators would come over?”
“Perhaps so.” Eric stepped onto the stone stairs. “I never noticed it before, but now I can see a bit of it. Many things at the trade fair could be considered Time Traces; perhaps that is their goal as well.”
“Even if one possesses a Time Trace, they wouldn’t know what kind of ritual could stimulate its power,” Siles remarked.
Eric nodded in agreement. “We are only beginners.”
Siles whispered, “Perhaps there are other methods. One doesn’t necessarily have to act like a scholar, immersing oneself in ancient books and archives to look for possible clues.”
They wisely ended this topic as they stepped onto the final stair.
At the same time, the true face of the trade fair was revealed before Siles.
He saw a narrow tunnel, just as Eric had described. He even worried a bit that he might hit his head on the ceiling if he stood up entirely straight. The lighting was somewhat dim, but much better than on the stairs.
The walls were very traditional, old brickwork, with a wall lamp every meter or two providing some illumination.
A wave of stale air and a cacophony of human voices immediately washed over him. Siles could hear all sorts of sounds: merchants hawking their wares, customers haggling over prices, as well as the clatter of footsteps, tapping, and bumping…
All the sounds flooded in at once. This underground trade fair made Siles realize for the first time that Lamifa City was indeed the capital of this country, possessing a massive market and a huge population.
Beside him, Eric whispered, “Many people in the West City know about the existence of this trade fair, so they come here to buy items like jewelry, winter furs, clothing, tasty sauces, dried meat, and such. They are all cheaper than the market prices.”
Siles nodded, indicating he understood—this was essentially a massive duty-free shop, or a distribution center for goods smuggled from the Ashless Land.
Eric led Siles through many stalls. Siles brushed shoulders with countless people who had come here. The crowded tunnel sometimes made it hard for him to keep up with Eric’s pace, but Eric would always wait for him at the corners and intersections.
Eric said, “Guests always take the wrong path in places like this.”
Siles noticed the surrounding noise gradually softening, and the crowd slowly thinning out. They eventually arrived at a somewhat secluded and quiet intersection. Siles could even smell the scent of ink and the dusty odor of old paper.
“They sell some stationery here too—pens, paper, ink, paints, anything is possible. Go have a look around; I need to go on shift,” Eric said, looking a bit concerned. “I’ll be standing at the entrance to the alley selling winter furs we passed earlier. Do you remember where that is?”
“I remember,” Siles nodded.
Eric then left, and Siles slowly walked into the tunnel before him. It was much quieter here than in other areas, allowing Siles to browse in peace.
There were some customers here too, but not many, and those actually taking out money to buy things were even fewer. From a distance, Siles only saw a man in somewhat shabby clothes pay for an item, tuck it into his coat, and then hurry away.
The man’s steps were rushed, as if he had come here specifically just to buy that one item.
Siles wasn’t in such a rush. He had only come this time to browse first, so he skimmed through the stalls. He found that, just as Eric had said, they didn’t only sell books here, but also a great deal of stationery.
He focused on looking for books that interested him and any potential manuscripts that might harbor secrets.
These books were all acquired from outside the Duchy of Konst. There were relatively neat published books, as well as messy, loose manuscripts and notes. Siles discovered an awkward problem: the vast majority of these books were not written in the Konst language.
Just like the travelogue he had previously bought from Lanmere’s son.
And if he really wanted to learn about the Ashless Land, he’d be better off waiting until Kellogg found a suitable translator.
Thus, after browsing around, Siles only found two books suitable for purchase.
One was a manuscript, said to contain the creative thoughts of a highly renowned painter from the early Age of Mists.
Because of the painter he had met in Atherton Central Square earlier, and Brewer’s incident, Siles was now somewhat interested in painting—based on vigilance and instinctual unease.
Happening to come across it here, Siles readily bought the manuscript.
The other was a book, actually written in the Konst language, which Siles could read. However, the reason he chose to buy this book was because the stall owner mysteriously pitched it to him as a banned book in the Duchy of Konst.
This immediately sparked Siles’s interest.
He flipped through it. The book’s title was The Ghosts of Lamifa City. Siles initially thought it was a novel, but then realized with slight disappointment that it was actually a collection of folklore and urban myths.
Most of the stories within were likely word-of-mouth rumors, repeated until accepted as truth. When the book was first published, these stories had likely caused public panic, leading the government of the Duchy of Konst to ban its sale on the market.
However, the publishers hadn’t burned all the books; instead, they transported them to the Ashless Land to sell them there. Later, after many twists and turns, The Ghosts of Lamifa City returned to the Duchy of Konst.
A book banned back then meant little to the present-day Duchy of Konst, but the ban had never been lifted, so it couldn’t be sold in the open market. Thus, it ended up on a stall at the Ernestine Trade Fair.
The book was originally published a century ago, but it was preserved quite well. The pages were only slightly yellowed, and the price wasn’t expensive—only 8 Earl coins. The painter’s manuscript he had bought earlier had cost him 2 Duke coins.
So, in the end, Siles bought this “banned book” as well.
He placed his two purchases into his bag and headed out, planning to meet up with Eric and ask if the Wednesday night trade fair would have more books worth buying.
However, when he arrived at the tunnel entrance Eric had mentioned, he didn’t see him.
The reason was glaringly obvious—right inside this tunnel selling winter furs, Siles saw a densely packed crowd and heard waves of arguing and cursing.
Someone got into a fight?
Siles immediately perked up. He peered inside, and before he even realized why one of the voices sounded familiar, his attention was drawn by a blue glow on one of the people.
One of the people arguing was a Revelator!
Let’s turn the clock back a little.
While Siles was still lingering at the book stalls, troubled by the fact that they were all in foreign languages, Eric was standing idly at the entrance to the fur alley, waiting for any lost customers to find him.
His mind was still on the job Siles had told him about, the one he had helped him find.
In reality, Siles had vastly underestimated the shock this matter brought to Eric. Siles felt that this era—and Lamifa City—were very peaceful. While that was true, job opportunities were not easy to come by for people in the Old City.
Eric was thirty-seven years old this year. He had been a waiter at Ernestine since he was seventeen, and had indirectly participated in many affairs of the underground gangs, such as this trade fair held every July after the rainy season break.
Therefore, he had practically tied his entire life to Ernestine. This wasn’t necessarily a bad thing; the lives of the people in the Old City were always intertwined with the shadows of the underground gangs.
Take Logan Market, for example. Everyone knew there were quite a few investments from underground gangs there. Because they monopolized the business, the gang members would even raise prices from time to time. But the people just had to swallow it.
Precisely because of this, once Greyson Food Company’s shops opened, their business grew so rapidly.
He really didn’t know what big shot was behind that company, enabling it to continue operating under the siege of the underground gangs, maintain such low prices, and crush many of the gangs’ businesses.
…No, his mind was wandering.
His wife had told him about these matters at the vegetable market.
Three years ago, his wife contracted a strange illness, constantly feeling weak and lethargic. Eric went to Hume’s Pharmacy to ask—for them, doctors belonged to an extremely distant profession. They didn’t have the spare money to see a doctor unless they were on the brink of death.
The pharmacy prescribed a medicine for his wife to take. The medicine did make her feel a bit better, but that was all.
She used to be a pastry chef at a bakery in Logan Market, but ever since she got this illness, she couldn’t work properly. Eventually, she was fired and had to stay home all day, only able to take on some temporary craftwork to do.
This was a heavy blow to them. Originally, Eric’s daughter should have started school three years ago, but due to this accident, she had to stay home to care for her mother while studying independently.
Eric knew he needed to make a change. But even filling his schedule completely with shifts barely ensured their family expenses were met without issue.
…The power of a Revelator was indeed an opportunity. Eric truly believed this, both outwardly and inwardly. However, just the transportation cost to travel to the East City for classes made him flinch.
Moreover, having to buy magic potions afterward was another expense.
Eric knew this was a chance to change his fate, but he always doubted whether he could grasp this opportunity. If he became a Revelator, what would happen to his wife and daughter? Could the money a Revelator earned cure his wife’s illness and send his daughter to a good middle school?
This was a question with no definite answer.
And now, Siles had extended a helping hand to him.
Twenty-five Duke coins a month, with accommodation provided. Eric silently chewed over these words. This was even slightly higher than his wife’s previous monthly salary at the bakery, yet the work wouldn’t be nearly as hard.
Eric finally allowed his emotions to soar. He thought, 25 Duke coins! 25!
What a delightful number!
His daughter could attend a better middle school, his wife could buy some brand-new clothes, and he could explore the mysteries of Revelators more boldly and diligently!
Even though he was already old, even though he was almost forty, he could still see a future full of light!
If he weren’t standing amidst a crowded throng right now, Eric suspected he might have burst into tears… No, he definitely would have. In his heart, he expressed his deepest gratitude to Siles—that young professor.
No wonder he became a professor at such a young age, Eric thought.
Just as he was thinking of Siles, he suddenly heard a burst of arguing coming from the tunnel behind him. Startled, he snapped back to reality and took long strides inward.
Every year, the trade fair saw no shortage of such scenes. And the waiters of Ernestine acted as mediators during these times. They couldn’t exactly expect furious, dissatisfied customers and stall owners to calm down on their own.
When Eric saw the two people clashing, his headache worsened.
One was a young boy of sixteen or seventeen with freckles on his face, and the other was a middle-aged man in ragged clothes with a withered face but a firm gaze.
Eric looked at the young boy and felt he looked somewhat familiar. After a moment, he suddenly remembered—wasn’t this the boy Siles had come to Ernestine looking for?
What was his relationship with Siles? Why was he now appearing at the trade fair and getting into a conflict with someone?
Thoroughly confused, and seeing more and more people gathering around as the argument intensified, Eric shouted loudly, “Quiet! Someone tell me what’s going on!”
The surrounding people all looked at him. The two arguers also temporarily quieted down due to his stern voice, but they continued to glare at each other, showing no signs of stopping the fight.
The young boy even looked at Eric and asked defiantly, “Who are you?”
“Trade fair staff,” Eric said simply. “What happened?”
The young boy was about to speak, but the other person opened his mouth first. His voice had a dry, sharp quality, and his whole person looked shriveled and quite unlikable.
He said, “I’ll tell you! This boy is absolutely unreasonable! We clearly agreed on a price, but just as I was about to pay, he backed out.”
“Backed out?” The young boy looked like he was about to explode. “I never agreed to the price you mentioned! That’s not even at cost price, how do you have the nerve to try and pay that?”
The middle-aged man retorted, “I stated that price, and you gave your tacit consent! Doesn’t that mean I can take the fur you’re selling for that price?”
The young boy glared at him, looking like a red balloon about to pop.
Having understood the conflict between them, Eric said, “We don’t allow forced buying or selling here. Since the stall owner didn’t agree to sell, the customer cannot forcefully demand it.”
He spoke coldly. Of course, this didn’t mean he was intentionally favoring the young stall owner—although he did know this boy was connected to Siles—the rule he stated did genuinely exist.
Since the young stall owner hadn’t accepted the money, the transaction naturally hadn’t occurred. The middle-aged man couldn’t forcefully snatch goods that still belonged to the stall owner.
If the young stall owner had taken the money and then backed out, then Eric would naturally have sided with the middle-aged man.
The onlookers also understood and, feeling there was nothing interesting left to see, sighed and dispersed one after another.
The middle-aged man who failed to buy his desired item stood silently in place, as if pondering something. After a moment, he actually revealed a peculiar smile, stunning both Eric and the young stall owner who saw it.
“I understand,” he laughed heartily, as if unraveling a puzzle that had long bound him. He even thanked Eric and the young stall owner. “This is what I deserve. Yes, this is what I deserve.”
He looked as if he had figured something out, yet also seemed extraordinarily distracted and absent-minded. As he walked out, he bumped into a man. Something dropped from his coat, but he didn’t notice it at all, simply leaving in a daze.
Eric felt that everything seemed exceptionally baffling. Perhaps it was normal at first, but starting from the ragged middle-aged man’s silent pondering, everything felt off.
He looked in the direction the middle-aged man had walked away, and was surprised to find that the person bumped into by the middle-aged man was none other than Siles.
Siles picked up the item dropped by the man and suddenly froze.
【You need to make a Knowledge check.】
【Knowledge: 51/65, Failure.】
【You failed to discover the mystery of the item this person left behind. However, this is normal; after all, you have only just entered this field recently. You feel you can get some explanations from seniors.】
Siles was startled by this sudden pop-up check. He thought, This item—a mystery?
Because of this delay, by the time Siles looked up, the man had already disappeared into the maze-like tunnels. Just turning a corner, the man’s back vanished, leaving Siles with no time to return the item or learn any more information.
Eric walked over and asked, “What happened?” He saw the item in Siles’s hand. “Oh, this is…”
Siles lowered his eyes to look at it, not daring to stare too closely, and whispered, “It might be…”
A Time Trace.
It was a peculiar ornament, shaped overall like a pen rest, but it was severely worn. It made one inevitably imagine the various writing instruments that had once rested upon it, and how many ancient, secret-filled sentences they had written.
…Simply put, this looked like a Time Trace.
And that middle-aged man—Siles remembered, he indeed had the blue glow of a Revelator on him.
Not only that middle-aged man, but among the many people gathered here just now, there were also three or four Revelators. But they had all scattered by now.
Eric said cautiously, “I don’t think he was just a simple… Revelator. He might be…”
“A follower of the Old Gods,” Siles said.
They fell silent for a moment. Then, Siles carefully stuffed this potential Time Trace into his bag. He said, “I’ll make a trip to the Church of the Past later.”
Eric was about to say something when the young stall owner, who had also walked over, saw Siles and let out an exclamation: “Why is it you?”
Siles glanced at him, then nodded. “Anthony. It seems Bertram took my advice.”
Anthony Fane originally wanted to say something else, but Siles’s single sentence made his eyes widen. He said incredulously, “You suggested to my father that I come here…?”
Eric was equally surprised by Siles’s words: “Bertram? Is that…”
Siles said, “The answer to both of those questions is the same: Yes, you are not mistaken.”
Eric froze slightly, looking at Anthony; and Anthony’s reaction was even more dramatic. He kept staring at Siles, his expression even more exaggerated than before.
Finally, he coughed and said awkwardly, “Thank you.”
