On his very first night at the House of Hales, Siles met the manager of the establishment.
The newcomer exuded an expectedly slick, sycophantic aura, perfectly fitting the world’s stereotype of a merchant. He handled the situation with practiced ease, dismissing the uninvolved onlookers before asking the remaining group what exactly had transpired.
Meanwhile, another individual stepped toward the corpse, seemingly conducting an examination. He produced a knife that looked like a Time-Track and began slicing into the body—a procedure that could perhaps be likened to an autopsy.
Siles felt a flicker of interest, but he wasn’t currently in a ritual timeframe, nor would it be appropriate to pull out a potion to drink at a moment like this. In truth, since arriving in the Ashless Lands, Siles hadn’t encountered many situations that actually required the use of his potions.
…The sense of security Quinton provides is truly dependable enough.
Left with no other option, Siles merely cast a couple of fleeting glances toward where the body lay.
“That ritual is called the Hand of the Butcher,” Quinton whispered into Siles’s ear, explaining the scene as if sensing exactly what was on his mind. “Rumor has it that butchers possess an intimate understanding of human anatomy.”
Siles was slightly startled, thinking to himself: So it can be used to kill people, but also to perform post-mortems?
He glanced back over and murmured in a low voice, “Making the best use of everything.”
This, it seemed, was the distinct style of the Ashless Lands.
Quinton couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh, remarking casually, “People just prefer utilizing rituals that offer multiple utility effects, that’s all.”
Siles was about to ask something else, but the merchant-like man had already walked up to stand before them.
He gave a theatrical, affected cough and said, “Good evening, everyone! You may call me Miles. Since a death has occurred, we must trouble you all for a bit of your time. To get straight to the point—does anyone know the identity of this deceased individual?”
Siles and his two companions shook their heads, maintaining their silence. Having only arrived at the location today, they did not recognize the dead man.
Although Siles harbored lingering doubts about the deceased’s arm, which seemingly resembled a sculpture, the Revelator currently examining the corpse blocked it completely from view, making it impossible to confirm his suspicions.
The remaining patrons shook their heads as well. One of them even let out a loud alcoholic hiccup, looking thoroughly inebriated and incoherent.
The diminutive tavern owner stood there with a deathly pale face, stammering, “Sir! Sir! This has absolutely nothing to do with my tavern. Today is the absolute first time I’ve ever laid eyes on this guest!”
Miles countered, “Tell us about this guest, Owner.”
The tavern owner racked his memory for a moment, gradually steadying his nerves. “Around dusk this evening, this man walked into my tavern. He ordered a cup of beer, and then very quickly and quietly sat down in the corner to drink slowly.”
“Did he do anything else besides drink?”
“Anything else…” The tavern owner pondered for a piece of time. “He was reading a book! No, not a book… a notebook! I don’t know what it was. He read it for a bit, then tucked it away, and spent the rest of the time deep in thought, drinking slowly…
“If business hadn’t been so ordinary today, I might have grown impatient with him! And yet, he actually went and died!”
When mentioning business, the tavern owner actually grew quite agitated.
He didn’t look like he was lying. A man who had run a tavern for ten years in the House of Hales had no reason to lie at a juncture like this. It seemed far more likely that he was simply infuriated that the deceased had disrupted his business.
Miles nodded with a smile, then directed his words toward the man examining the body: “Check if the deceased has any papers inside his coat!” Then he looked back at the tavern owner. “There isn’t any issue with your liquor, right?”
The tavern owner’s face flushed a deep crimson as he retorted, “How could there possibly be an issue! I’ve run this tavern for ten years! Miles, you’ve drunk my liquor yourself, is there an issue?”
Miles coughed and shrugged. “Merely a routine inquiry, that’s all.”
The atmosphere of their conversation was unexpectedly relaxed. Siles thought to himself that, as expected, within the Ashless Lands, death was perhaps the most ordinary occurrence.
A person dying because they read some mysterious, ancient, and dangerous written records? This was by no means a rare phenomenon.
Speaking of which… Siles suddenly realized that the most probable cause of the deceased’s death was a mutation brought about by reading.
Extremely severe spiritual contamination could result in physical mutation; this was a fact Siles already knew. He had personally witnessed the mutation of the Marquess of Austin and his remarkably rapid death.
If one were to analyze the underlying mechanics according to the Three Elements Theory proposed by Siles, it could be described as a state where frantic spirituality exceeded the capacity of what the will could endure, further impacting the external physical condition.
Furthermore, old god contamination could compound and grow increasingly severe.
This… explorer—given his probable identity—had very likely accumulated a tremendously high level of spiritual contamination during his past adventures. Subsequently, while reading that notebook, he had plunged into madness and fixation, ultimately stepping into death.
…Did he turn into a sculpture? Was he affected by the contamination of Hoodoka?
Swellings of flesh—that was the mutation ultimately caused by the contamination of Timiafa; whereas turning into a statue seemed to be the power of Hoodoka.
Before long, the man examining the body spoke up: “Found it.” He handed a clump of messy papers over to Miles, subsequently complaining, “It’s this situation again. This fellow’s internal organs have all turned to ash…”
Miles threw him a stern glare, causing the other party to shut his mouth.
However, that half-sentence already spoken allowed Siles to understand clearly.
It appeared that over the past period of time, the House of Hales hadn’t been entirely peaceful either. Had these incidents of explorers turning into statues and dying in the process been appearing continuously?
Nevertheless, before the deceased completely turned into a statue, he had already died. Perhaps because after his internal organs turned into rigid, lifeless sculpture, his body could no longer maintain its vitality.
Consequently, at that exact instant, he died.
But Siles had indeed heard of instances where individuals completely transformed into statues, whether it was the expedition team Quinton had encountered, the statue that collapsed in the shadows of the temple mentioned by the worker Duva in his diary, or the workers hired by the merchant Jerome Lanmere.
…Where lies the difference between the two?
One was the slow soaking of old god contamination, while the other was an irreversible, instantaneous explosion caused by directly facing the power of an old god? A chronic case versus an acute one?
Siles felt this hypothesis was highly probable… contamination and power, the divine elements corresponding to these two also seemed to be distinct. Contamination corresponded to the deity’s will, while power corresponded to the deity’s spirituality? Which is to say, the divine spark.
However, Siles ultimately possessed no concrete evidence to prove his thoughts.
In the blink of an eye, the man examining the corpse had hoisted the body over his shoulder, standing silently to one side. Miles, on the other hand, smiled broadly and said, “Alright, everyone, you may continue to enjoy your wonderful evening.”
The tavern owner still stood there completely white-faced, while the remaining patrons let out indistinct, foolish chuckles.
Siles gazed mutely at Miles. He suddenly realized that although the deduction from that half-sentence suggested undercurrents were surging through the House of Hales, at least on the surface, no one seemed to view the matter with extreme gravity.
His thought was confirmed a few minutes later.
After Miles departed, the patrons also left one after another. The entire handling of a death took barely more than ten minutes from start to finish.
Sighing and groaning, the tavern owner returned behind the bar counter. He muttered something in a low voice, seemingly complaining that the deceased had impacted his business.
Mary said to Siles, “No need to worry, Mr. Noel, this matter won’t affect our investigation.”
Siles nodded, changing the subject instead: “However, what I am curious about is whether this sort of occurrence has appeared frequently over the past period of time?”
The tavern owner interjected, “It’s always like this. People die every day. Who knows what they died from? There are far too many riddles these days, and hardly anyone has the mind to solve these problems.
“The absolute worst part is that this fellow went and died in my shop this time. Sigh, what a hassle. Once word of this spreads, my business won’t be very good for at least a month.”
Siles remained silent.
“Oh right, sir, what was it you wanted to ask just now?”
Siles took the opportunity to shift the topic seamlessly: “What I wanted to inquire about is whether two men appeared together recently, perhaps asking for news related to ‘a Non-existent City’ over the past few years.”
The tavern owner listened, and then suddenly revealed a somewhat strange expression: “You want to inquire about the two of them?”
Siles paused for a fraction of a second, then asked, “What about it?”
“I know those two men. One of them did indeed say that someone might come here looking for them… perhaps that would be you, sir?” the tavern owner said. “However, they have already left.”
Siles knit his brows. “Left?”
“About six or seven days ago.” The tavern owner thought for a moment. “Ah, right, the Day of Divine Birth.”
Siles nodded slowly.
The tavern owner suddenly narrowed his eyes, sizing Siles up before saying, “Sir, it’s not that I can’t tell you their whereabouts. However, you must prove your identity first.”
Siles said, “Did he leave any words when he mentioned someone would come looking for them?”
“Hold on a moment, my memory isn’t very good. I recall writing it down at the time…” The tavern owner rummaged through the drawers of the counter, where a large mass of papers resided. “Ah! Found it!”
He squinted to read the contents on the paper, and then said, “A location. You need to state this location, sir.”
A location?
Siles pondered for a moment, and then said, “No. 13 Milford Street.”
“Ah-ha, congratulations, you got it right!” The tavern owner casually stuffed the slip of paper back into the drawer.
Siles thought to himself that, judging by this drawer full of papers, this tavern seemed to serve as an information hub in a certain sense.
Indeed, a tavern that had been open for at least ten years in the House of Hales ought to possess functions slightly more peculiar than an ordinary tavern. Previously, Siles had heard that explorers needed to head to relay stations every so often to update the latest intelligence, such as changes in the mist, the development of rumors, and so forth.
If this information were updated within a tavern, it seemed entirely natural.
“Where should I begin with this matter…” the tavern owner mused aloud.
“No rush, Owner,” Siles said in a low voice.
Beside him, Quinton was idly playing with his wooden wine cup out of sheer boredom.
The tavern owner snapped out of it and said, “Just call me Andy.”
Siles nodded and introduced his own name.
The short Andy had been standing on a low stool the entire time, which allowed him to maintain eye contact at a level height with them. He said, “Those two arrived here at the beginning of October, they…”
Andy’s words had barely started when a commotion sounded from the tavern entrance. Several individuals crowded into the tavern in a chaotic swarm, interrupting Andy’s words.
“Andy! Bring a cup of liquor!” the leader shouted.
This person was dressed very obviously as an explorer, carrying a distinct air of untamed wildness about him, and his opening tone sounded arrogant and careless: “Hurry up! It’s not like you’re busy here…”
Quinton cast a sidelong glance over there.
Suddenly, the explorer’s voice cut out entirely.
After a moment, he let out a sheepish laugh. “It’s… it’s Quinton… why have you come to the House of Hales too?”
Quinton said simply, “Business.”
The man slunk off to a corner table like a dog with its tail between its legs, sitting down properly with his companions. Owner Andy prepared their drinks and carried them over.
Siles could faintly hear what they were discussing over there.
“…Unlucky…”
“…Forget it… just now downstairs… the circus…”
“…Lamifa… really meaningless… money… merchants…”
“…Don’t know if we can… do our best…”
Siles cast a glance toward that direction, thinking to himself: Could this be the expedition team hired by the noble lady?
Their mentions of the circus, Lamifa City, and a merchant’s money caused Siles to make this association. And it wasn’t impossible either. By contrast, their timidity when facing Quinton was actually less prominent.
…But for now, Siles’s focus remained on the information provided by Andy.
Mary spoke up at this time: “It’s nearly ten o’clock, I’ll head up to the third floor first to wait for those two gentlemen. We can meet up there when the time comes.”
Siles and Quinton both nodded. Quinton even remarked with great interest, “Don’t worry, I’m here.” He pointed toward Siles. “I will protect our Professor Noel.”
Siles cast a silent look at him.
Mary let out a laugh and said, “Mr. Quinton, Mr. Noel isn’t that fragile either. Perhaps you can set your mind at ease.”
Quinton countered, “I must consider his pride, I understand.” He stole a glance at Siles.
Siles glanced at his wine cup, only then realizing that Quinton, in his boredom, had already finished his small cup of cherry wine. He looked slightly tipsy, and his words and actions carried a touch of wildness.
“But…” Quinton murmured in a low voice, “I just have to protect him.”
He leaned against Siles’s body, letting out a soft laugh.
Siles nodded to Mary as if nothing were amiss, saying, “Lady, you should head to the third floor first.”
Seeing nothing unusual in this, Mary bid them farewell and departed.
Once Mary had left, Siles gave Quinton a slight shove, saying, “Sit up properly.”
“Oh… sit properly.” Quinton sat up sluggishly, then flashed a smile at Siles. “Whatever you say.”
Siles couldn’t help but sigh in his heart, shaking his head as he said, “In truth, you aren’t drunk.”
“Of course,” Quinton said. “My alcohol tolerance isn’t this poor. But don’t you find this scene quite interesting right now?”
“I don’t quite understand your intention,” Siles said.
“…You are my companion. My friend.” Quinton’s voice suddenly softened. “You are mine.”
His emerald-green eyes stared fixedly at Siles. Within his pupils, Siles could see a tiny reflection of himself.
“I do not belong to you,” Siles’s voice was low.
Quinton revealed a rather wild grin. He reached out, wrapping his arms around Siles briefly before letting go. He said, “The current situation is exactly like this.”
“You wish for others to think so as well?”
“Of course,” Quinton said with a smile.
Siles gave him a calm look, and then said, “You are truly childish enough, Quinton.”
“Say what you will.” Quinton shrugged. “I really hope…”
His voice gradually softened, carrying a slight touch of drunkenness as he gazed almost infatuatedly at Siles’s calm countenance.
“I feel as if our encounter was arranged by fate. Hoodoka, Ligadia…” Quinton said. “I feel that, at a certain moment… I ‘possessed’ you. And the things I possess have always been few and far number.”
“That sounds a bit…” Siles weighed his words, “…pitiful.”
Quinton let out a laugh, murmuring, “You don’t know much about my past.” After a moment, he returned to normal, saying as if nothing had happened, “Perhaps we can find an opportunity to share our respective pasts.”
Siles remained silent. He thought to himself that Quinton had actually actively brought up his own past.
When they first met, Quinton would always be extremely secretive about his past, subsequently throwing back aggressive counter-questions about Siles’s circumstances; but without him realizing when it started, Siles had slowly stepped into Quinton’s past.
For instance, he learned that Quinton was searching for secrets related to old gods, which was why he would team up with certain explorers; for instance, he learned the origin and purpose of Quinton’s necklace, and had even received an invitation to travel to Kansas.
Consequently, Siles felt that his relationship with Quinton had already crossed a boundary.
In this chaotic, dangerous, and complex Ashless Lands, the situation didn’t seem too bad. At any rate, they were indeed traveling together along the way. But what about when he returned to Lamifa City?
Siles felt his nerves were similarly stimulated by something. He too had made choices that were not rational or alert enough. He hadn’t pulled away to maintain a proper distance from Quinton at the right time, and now it seemed to be too late.
People on journeys were always a bit more unrestrained, simply because it wasn’t the place or the people they were accustomed to.
Thinking of this, he let out a slow sigh.
“You’re sighing again,” Quinton asked with a troubled expression. “Is the situation truly that terrible?”
“This is merely an expression of emotion.” Siles felt himself growing slightly tipsy as well; he touched the wine cup—in reality, he had only taken two or three sips. “Quinton, do not make any more moves that cause me to misunderstand, seriously.”
“Misunderstand?” Quinton let out a laugh. “Don’t misunderstand. Just think toward whichever direction causes you the most inner turmoil.”
He tilted his head, leaning against Siles’s shoulder. The small braid formed by his grayish-white hair also brushed against Siles’s shoulder.
“…There are people,” Siles said helplessly.
“What’s there to fear,” Quinton said almost provocatively. “If they dare say a single word, I’ll rip their tongues out!”
Siles let out a chuckle at these seemingly ferocious words.
Andy returned, casting a strange glance at the posture between the two of them. Quinton narrowed his eyes at him, so Owner Andy hastily retracted his searching gaze.
“He’s drunk,” Siles said. “Pay him no mind.”
Quinton looked too lazy to refute these words. He monopolized Siles’s shoulder.
“Uh… cough, I understand,” Andy said. “Then I shall continue.”
Siles nodded.
Quinton began to push his boundaries further, grabbing Siles’s hand and then playing with Siles’s fingers. Siles gave his fingers a warning squeeze, causing Quinton to behave himself a bit more.
He still seemed unable to forget what had happened on the stairs just now, so holding Siles’s fingers at this moment made him feel content. He quietly propped up his face, his emerald-green eyes carrying a dazed yet pure smile as he gazed at Siles.
Siles acted completely oblivious, merely listening to Andy’s words.
…According to Andy’s account, Alfonso and Emmanuel had arrived at the House of Hales at the beginning of October. He had forgotten the exact date, but it was roughly during those first few days of the month.
They came with aggressive momentum, visiting nearly every tavern in the House of Hales.
Alfonso Carte himself possessed quite a reputation within the Ashless Lands; after all, he had once claimed to have discovered tribal ruins, yet not a single secondary person could corroborate his claim.
Some individuals deemed him a liar, others thought he was merely seeking attention, and of course, some suspected he had monopolized the products of the ruins for himself.
In short, the two of them investigating “a Non-existent City” with such fanfare this time had indeed drawn the attention of a number of people.
“In truth, they eventually found their way to my place as well,” Andy said. “And the moment I saw one of them, I associated him with the events of ten years ago—a Non-existent City, explorers, survivors…”
His voice gradually quieted down.
After a pause, Andy said, “My memory isn’t very good, so I always record everything down on paper. Because of their appearance, I specifically dug up my diary from ten years ago.
“Only then did I recall that a guest back then, dressed similarly to that man, had come to my tavern. He was completely covered in blood at the time, drinking his liquor while trembling. He said he had just escaped from a hellish place. He said, he had failed Isherwood.”
Siles was slightly startled, and then knit his brows: “He truly said exactly that?”
“Yes,” Andy said. “Isherwood. That name left a deep impression on me. Because ten years ago, it was precisely this man who organized an expedition team to go in search of ‘a Non-existent City.’ At the time, I had only been running this tavern for a few years.
“Thinking about it now, ten years have actually flown by.”
Siles nodded thoughtfully.
Andy’s words resolved a point of confusion within his heart: the fraternal relationship between Isherwood and Emmanuel didn’t seem to be widely known. However, this pair of brothers hadn’t possessed a very good relationship originally.
No one knew Isherwood had a younger brother. Consequently, no one would think to inform Emmanuel upon encountering that survivor. In fact, even that survivor himself likely didn’t know of Emmanuel’s existence.
After a span of ten long years, could they still locate that survivor from back then?
Siles subsequently asked, “They must have gone to look for this survivor, right?”
“Yes,” Andy said. “They should have found him.”
Found him?
Siles said, “So that survivor is actually right here in the House of Hales?”
“Uh, it seems to be the case,” Andy said. “But I don’t particularly understand the specifics of their actions either. I’ve only met them three times. The first time was when they came over to ask for some relevant news regarding ‘a Non-existent City.’
“The second time was to ask about the matter of last year’s treasure map… Karl? It seems that was the name of the explorer who peddled a treasure map last year. But I don’t know much about that matter.
“When they came the second time, I told them about that survivor. They looked incredibly surprised, highly agitated. But I’m not entirely clear on the reason; perhaps they wanted to understand more information.
“As for the third time, it was precisely on the Day of Divine Birth. They came over to tell me they intended to depart from the House of Hales, but someone might come here looking for them, so they left a letter with me to hand over when the time came… looks like it was meant to be handed over to you.”
“A letter?” Siles asked.
Andy nodded: “Yes, in the back. I’ll go grab it for you in a moment.”
Siles nodded. He thought to himself that, in reality, Andy didn’t know whether Alfonso and Emmanuel had actually found the person they were looking for either.
He then said, “In that case, from the moment they learned of the survivor’s existence to the moment they departed from the House of Hales, a period of time must have elapsed in between. Does anyone know about their experiences during this timeframe?”
Andy shook his head with a bit of confusion, saying, “I’m not entirely sure… ah, wait a moment, I suddenly recall.” He said, “They seemed to be staying at Audrey’s Inn. You can go over there and ask the proprietress.”
Siles understood, offering his thanks to Andy.
Although Alfonso had left a letter for him, regardless of the circumstances, investigating what they had done during their time at the House of Hales remained necessary.
…They departed from the House of Hales on the very Day of Divine Birth, Siles thought.
At that time, they should have already received Siles’s correspondence, otherwise it would have been impossible to leave a message with Andy. However, they had still chosen to depart from the House of Hales.
This signified that they must have obtained highly critical information, which was why they couldn’t afford to wait for Siles’s arrival and had eagerly departed from the House of Hales.
Hopefully, Alfonso’s letter provided sufficient clues.
“No need to be polite, sir,” Andy said with a broad smile. “Regardless of the situation, they did spend money after all.”
Siles remained silent, thinking to himself that, as expected, this was the case.
Andy went to retrieve the letter, handing it over to Siles. This letter ought to be unopened; at least the sealing wax on the envelope bore no signs of damage.
Siles was in no rush to tear it open; he wished to find a more secluded, secure location before reading this letter. He placed the correspondence inside his inner pocket, and then said to Quinton, “It seems we can head back.”
Only then did Quinton release Siles’s hand. Siles stretched his fingers slightly, subsequently paying for the wine—this place could also settle accounts using the currency of the Duchy of Konst—and then politely bid farewell to Andy.
Only after they had departed did the explorers who had remained consistently silent within the tavern suddenly erupt into loud discussions.
“That was actually Quinton Praia!”
“Who has ever seen such a docile Quinton! Oh, that description alone makes me want to vomit!”
“Incredible, incredible…”
“Ha, the arrogant mad dog finally has a day where he recognizes a master?”
“But his ‘master’ doesn’t look like someone from the Ashless Lands. That looks like…”
“A city person.”
“Yes, a city person.”
“Oh-oh-oh—then one must sincerely hope this harmless city person doesn’t go and die in the Ashless Lands!”
They broke into malicious laughter.
Only their leader remained silent. The short-haired explorer gazed toward the direction where Siles and Quinton had departed, revealing a slightly doubtful and alert expression.
Meanwhile, the short tavern owner stood quietly behind the bar counter. After a moment, he suddenly gave a violent shudder. He thought to himself that the man was by no means some harmless city person. That level of composure and calm… was deeply suspect.
Siles did not know how people evaluated him behind his back, nor did he care.
Quinton led him toward the potion shop on the third floor.
Siles asked, “You seem to be quite familiar with this place as well?”
“The House of Hales is a necessary path for explorers.” Quinton’s emerald-green eyes were bright with energy, showing no signs of drunkenness whatsoever, though Siles wasn’t particularly surprised by this either. “Explorers who have just arrived in the Ashless Lands will always come here to experience the… atmosphere of the Ashless Lands.”
“Atmosphere?”
Quinton pulled Siles over to the edge of the railing, directing Siles to look at the scene in the central open space.
The circus, acrobatics, magic performances, as well as peculiarly shaped individuals. This place looked much like a museum for bizarre humans.
Quinton said, “This is the true Ashless Lands, rather than the peaceful venue they imagined. If they cannot even accept the House of Hales, then there is likely no need to continue forward.”
Siles came to a sudden realization.
He spotted a familiar silhouette in the central open space—the clown from the circus.
His gaze rested upon the clown standing there, looking quite foolish. The clown seemed to notice his gaze as well, lifting his head to look over. After a moment, the clown grinned widely into a smile, and then waved his hand toward him.
Siles made no movement to respond, and the clown also very naturally lowered his head, continuing to stand there blankly in a daze.
Quinton spoke with a touch of displeasure from the side: “You truly recognize quite a few people.” He paused, and then added, “Is this a companion of that lady astrologer we encountered previously?”
“Yes,” Siles said.
Quinton’s sharpness could occasionally elicit amazement from Siles as well.
Quinton nodded thoughtfully.
Siles asked, “The circus within the Ashless Lands…” He weighed his phrasing, “…is it a relatively special existence?”
Quinton pondered for a piece of time. “One cannot entirely put it that way. There are many, many circuses within the Ashless Lands, and their reputations vary quite a bit. This particular circus is permanently stationed at the House of Hales, so it is relatively famous.
“Some explorers… will view them as a kind of… one should say, a state of relaxation. Seeing the circus signifies safety and pleasure. That is how they view it.
“Some explorers will even treat the circus as a spiritual pillar—a bright color amidst the ruins, pleasure after endless emptiness and struggle, the meaning of survival… in short, things of that nature. It’s hard to say what exactly they are thinking.”
Quinton’s tone carried a hint of contempt, though it couldn’t be said that he entirely failed to comprehend those explorers either. He merely felt this behavior wasn’t particularly worth encouraging.
Siles nodded thoughtfully.
From this perspective, the words of the astrologer Heidi received corroboration from a side angle.
The circus was a special existence. They symbolized a “paradise” in the hearts of many explorers, where there lay no danger or disaster, only endless pleasure and indulgence.
Conversely, the circus did indeed provide such services for them.
The distinct roles within the circus obtained mysterious and bizarre powers precisely from this kind of imprint refined through countless eras. A clown became a clown, an astrologer became an astrologer.
…”Become.”
Siles thoughtfully noted the vocabulary he had instinctively utilized.
In other words, alignment. They aligned with the characteristics of the profession and performed the relevant duties, so they truly came to possess this power.
…What if one were to become a god?
For a human to become a deity was likely by no means that simple, Siles thought. Their understanding of a deity’s power still remained at the simple level of the three elements: divine spark, divine seat, and divine name. In reality, they did not know what the power of a deity actually looked like.
Could these individuals within the circus be called deities? Was the clown the god of clowns?
No, it couldn’t be put that way. Differences existed between powers as well.
Siles did not continue his line of thought, merely keeping this matter in mind.
They went to the third floor, meeting up with Mary, Chester, and Alva. Alva bore a flush brought about by excitement; he looked to be highly fond of the House of Hales, or at least fond of the House of Hales within his own understanding.
However, only when Siles heard the words Alva was muttering did he realize Alva’s excitement possessed another underlying reason.
“I saw so many people holding the Bonnet version of the map!” The moment he laid eyes on Siles and Quinton, Alva spoke up immediately.
He looked as if he had already muttered these words numerous times, because Dr. Chester displayed a highly complex and helpless expression.
Yet Alva remained unwearied by it, continuing to chuckle foolishly without stopping.
Family honor is still highly regarded in this world, Siles thought.
He offered his congratulations to Alva, subsequently opening his pocket watch to cast a glance, discovering it was already past ten o’clock. A day of rushing about combined with the volume of information just received caused Siles to feel a touch of fatigue as well.
He said, “Perhaps we can go to rest.”
“Ah… yes.” Saying so, Alva let out a yawn. “I’m already sleepy.”
Mary then said with a smile, “Please follow me.”
The place where they ultimately stayed was not inside the tents, but within the low houses outside, which was precisely where they kept their Plumed Horses. Clearly, it was a bit safer and more secure there.
There were five of them in total, and the house purchased by Jerome Lanmere possessed three bedrooms, so the situation naturally turned into one room for Lady Mary, one room for Siles and Quinton, and one room for Chester and Alva.
The bedding arrangements were easy to handle; the house also came prepared with single folding beds, so they merely needed to lay out the blankets. The desert at night was still extremely cold, requiring them to wrap themselves in heavy blankets.
Unexpectedly, this independent house provided hot water.
Mary explained with a smile, “Living over by the tents is a bit more inconvenient. However, this area is for permanent residents after all… much like a community, so some basic infrastructure has kept pace.”
This indeed allowed them to let out a massive sigh of relief. After a day of travel, they all wished to take a hot shower.
This house possessed two washrooms, which was highly considerate. Mary went to one of them to bathe, while the men used the other. By the time everyone had finished bathing and laid out their bedding, the time was roughly arriving at twelve o’clock.
However, Siles still intended to tear open Alfonso’s letter to take a look.
He returned to the room. Quinton was currently laying out the blankets. He said, “I’ve already laid out the blankets for you.”
Siles said, “Thank you. Do you need my help with your blankets?”
Quinton let out a chuckle, straightening his posture to look at the clothing on Siles’s body, and then said, “I’ve already laid mine out. I would prefer it if you climbed into the blankets earlier right now. It’s not summertime.”
“I must first look at that letter,” Siles said.
Quinton muttered something indistinct, likely complaining that Siles truly had far too many matters to attend to. But in the end, he merely sat down, quietly gazing at Siles.
He was always extremely quiet at moments like this.
Siles produced the letter from his coat pocket, tearing it open to unfold the writing paper inside. This letter had been penned by Emmanuel, and both the paper and the handwriting appeared relatively formal and earnest, far more respectable than the letter Siles had previously received from Alfonso.
“…
Professor Noel, when you see this letter, Alfonso and I should rightly have already embarked on the journey toward ‘that place.’ We do not particularly wish for you to fall into danger, but we must provide you with an explanation after all.
We have discovered a secret. One could also call it a mistake. We were grievously mistaken in the past, so we must now make amends for that mistake.
Perhaps you cannot comprehend these words. However, we would rather you never comprehend them.
…In short, if you wish to pursue this matter further, then we have left relevant clues for you. I imagine you ought to be able to discover where those clues are located, and perhaps have even learned of them from Andy at this moment.
Sincerely wishing you safety.
…”
The contents of the correspondence caused Siles to knit his brows deeply.
“What’s wrong?” Quinton asked. “Your expression doesn’t look very happy. Did they fail to tell you their whereabouts?”
Siles shook his head, handing the writing paper over to Quinton. Quinton scanned through it rapidly, and then said, “Looks like they truly aren’t very willing to have you involved in this matter.”
“Yes,” Siles said.
He thought to himself that this appeared somewhat amiss.
If Alfonso and Emmanuel truly were unwilling to let him participate in this matter, then there was absolutely no necessity to leave this letter. They could have simply let the clues end right there with Andy.
Yet now, while leaving clues on one hand, they simultaneously hoped Siles wouldn’t get involved… was this normal?
They ought to understand that Siles was entirely capable of discovering the clues. Emmanuel had also stated in the letter that they left relevant clues. So when all was said and done, Siles would still be able to discover the truth.
What was their purpose…?
To delay time? To rush ahead and resolve everything before Siles actually discovered their whereabouts?
Siles considered this possibility.
But the same question remained. Even if it were to delay time… why bother leaving relevant clues in the first place?
A notion faintly cropped up in Siles’s mind: Because the implications are far-reaching.
Concealment was futile. Even if Alfonso and Emmanuel hid the relevant clues, Siles was still highly likely to become entangled in it and would understand everything sooner or later. It was dangerous enough, and the scope of its impact was vast enough.
In reality, wasn’t the current House of Hales also filled with undercurrents?
Therefore, the pair preferred to provide the clues themselves, giving sufficiently safe and proper guidance to allow Siles to follow their footsteps step by step to investigate and learn the truth, rather than having Siles attempt to search blindly everywhere like a headless fly.
This sense of premonition from the ether caused Siles to feel a touch of helplessness.
…Why did he feel that his friends all possessed a tendency toward overprotection? He didn’t seem to be fragile to this extent, did he?
From Dr. Chester to Alfonso and Emmanuel, not to mention Quinton whose attitude was far more stubborn, they all seemed to faintly hope Siles would stay away from danger and guarantee his own safety.
But the riddles of this world could clearly not be resolved purely through empty imagination, Siles thought.
Quinton’s words suddenly interrupted his train of thought.
“Time to sleep, Siles. We can head to that inn tomorrow to search for clues, and then everything will become clear,” Quinton said to Siles. “Good night.”
Siles hesitated for a fraction of a second, ultimately murmuring a soft good night in return, and then fell into a heavy slumber.
A night without dreams.
The next morning, Siles woke up right at seven o’clock.
Due to the Blessing of Akamara, Siles could actually wake up whenever he wished. However, considering the rush of the entire previous day, Siles ultimately allowed himself to wake up an hour later than his usual waking time.
“Morning, Siles.” Quinton had already awakened, yet he still lay sideways on the bed, greeting Siles the moment he woke up. “It’s just the two of us left again.”
Siles was slightly startled, thinking to himself: What does this mean?
“Something happened over at the tents,” Quinton said. “Word is, the leader of the circus has died.”
