When Siles Noel walked out of the Historical Society, it was already past four in the afternoon.
The group had attempted [Flowing Wind] many times until their hands hurt from waving. Except for Siles, everyone else had experienced failure, while every one of Siles’s attempts succeeded.
He cautiously concealed his success rate.
At the end of this session, Carol mentioned that aside from the space behind the Historical Society’s door, they temporarily couldn’t use potions and rituals elsewhere because they were still insufficiently skilled beginners.
The next time they came here, they would undertake some conceptual learning and supplementation.
A Revelator’s learning was a long and arduous journey—they’d already gotten a taste of this when they saw that thick knowledge box.
Considering they’d already experienced this miraculous power, everyone nodded expectantly.
Siles specifically found an opportunity to ask Carol whether he could borrow books from the room. Carol’s answer was unsurprising—he could read in Room 666 but couldn’t take them out of the Historical Society.
Siles decided to come earlier next time and find an interesting book to read. Reading was also a form of relaxation for Siles.
After leaving the Historical Society, Siles took a public carriage back to 13 Milford Street. In the evening, he still ate some bread with jam and planned to continue preparing lessons after dinner.
However, as night fell, he suddenly heard someone knocking on his door.
Siles tilted his head slightly in puzzlement, not understanding who would come looking for him at this hour. He walked over without removing the security lock, only half-opening the door to look outside.
It was Mrs. Fenn.
Her expression was somewhat awkward as she said to Siles with anxiety and nervousness: “Mr. Noel, there’s a letter for you.”
“…A letter?” Siles was stunned.
He almost instinctively recalled the postman’s working hours. If there was a letter for him, why would it be delivered at this time? When he returned in the evening, why hadn’t Mrs. Fenn reminded him?
The next second, Siles realized this letter was perhaps an excuse from Mrs. Fenn. Regardless of whether the letter truly existed, Mrs. Fenn seemed to have found such an opportunity to communicate with Siles.
Thinking of Mrs. Fenn’s worried appearance over the past three days and that basket of beautiful cherries, Siles couldn’t help narrowing his eyes.
He said calmly: “Alright, please wait a moment, Mrs. Fenn.”
Siles closed the door, put on his coat, changed into a pair of shoes suitable for walking, then opened the door again and followed Mrs. Fenn downstairs.
Mrs. Fenn said absent-mindedly: “That letter is in the kitchen.”
They went to the kitchen. Mrs. Fenn handed an envelope to Siles. Siles took it, looked down, and discovered it was a letter from Merlin Town—the original body’s mother?
It seemed his mother had received his letter and sent a reply.
Siles understood. Just as he was about to thank Mrs. Fenn, he heard her say: “Mr. Noel… I really don’t know how to say this. I think you’re a reliable good person. Perhaps you could…”
Mrs. Fenn almost immediately shed tears.
Siles was startled and asked: “What happened?”
“My son… he, he won’t come home. He’s mixed up with those underground gang people on the street.” Mrs. Fenn was both angry and sad. “I’ve already written a letter to tell my husband, but who knows when he’ll return.
“My little Anthony hasn’t come home for three days… Mr. Noel, please…”
“You want me to bring Anthony back?”
“No… no. I can’t expect you to do more.” Mrs. Fenn pleaded. “I just hope you can go confirm his safety. I’m afraid something has happened to my little Anthony, which is why he hasn’t returned.
“I can provide you with sufficient compensation. I can fully refund your rent. My husband is a merchant. When he returns, we can give you more compensation. I really don’t know what to do.
“I don’t dare go there alone, and I don’t dare ask the police for help. Even if I went, Anthony probably wouldn’t come back with me. I originally wanted to wait for my husband to return, but I’m terrified my little Anthony might have an accident during this time. What would I do then…”
Mrs. Fenn trembled with fear.
While listening to Mrs. Fenn, Siles recalled memories. The original body’s memories included matters about these underground gangs, particularly mentioning their unfriendly attitude toward ladies.
Mrs. Fenn was alone at home. The old city was already a mixed bag—making her afraid to act rashly.
She feared something had happened to her son, or that he’d committed some crime. Anthony was mixed up with underground gangs—what if calling the police meant arresting Anthony too? So she hoped Siles would go confirm her son’s current situation.
…If she could truly refund all the rent Siles had paid before, then Siles was willing to lend a hand.
He still asked cautiously: “Do you know where he is?”
Mrs. Fenn looked at him, then ecstatically realized Siles’s attitude had softened. She hurriedly said: “At a tavern. I… I heard little Anthony mention that place’s name… I’m not sure where that tavern is…”
“What’s the name?” Siles said. “Perhaps I can go find a map store.”
“Erne… Ernestine. Yes, Ernestine!” Mrs. Fenn said excitedly. “Thank you, Mr. Noel. I won’t let you return empty-handed.
“You just found work. You surely need enough money. Consider it borrowing lodging at my place for a while. I’ll return your rent money right now…”
Siles didn’t know whether to laugh or cry as he stopped this overly excited mother. He said: “Don’t rush. Let’s talk after I find Anthony.”
Only then did Mrs. Fenn nod dazedly, murmuring quietly: “…Yes, yes. My little Anthony.” She began sobbing.
After a moment, Mrs. Fenn’s emotions finally stabilized. She thanked Siles again. Such a middle-aged woman living in the old city, even if life was comfortable, inevitably lived in trepidation, especially since her son was entangled with gangs.
Siles checked the time and discovered it was already seven in the evening. He asked Mrs. Fenn: “Do you know where there’s a map store nearby?”
“Map…” Mrs. Fenn recalled, then said, “The southeast side of Logan Market seems to have a store selling maps. Are you going now?”
Her always gloomy, mean gaze seemed to light up like a flame because a kind person was willing to help her search for her good-for-nothing son.
“No time to waste.”
Siles simply responded to Mrs. Fenn, then went upstairs to change into casual clothes.
He thought for a moment, opened the letter from the original body’s mother, and briefly read its contents.
“…You make me proud, dear child. …A hundred-denomination note is enclosed with this letter. Don’t be hard on yourself. Life in Lafami City always requires sufficient money.
“Your expectant mother.”
Siles was somewhat speechless as he pinched the banknote in the envelope. Then he sighed softly, put this hundred-denomination note in the drawer, then took his wallet, dice, umbrella, and other items before leaving.
Night deepened. Only some hurried people remained on Milford Street. Siles merged among them, hurrying through the dense rain toward the southeast direction of Logan Market, searching for the map store Mrs. Fenn mentioned.
About a quarter-hour passed. He saw a shop with dim yellow lighting. After carefully confirming the name at the entrance, he entered this map store called “Mapa.”
Unexpectedly, there were actually four or five customers inside, as if lingering in this simple shop, each holding a map and studying it intently, completely forgetting the time.
This shop was about forty or fifty square meters, divided into two sections. The left area was larger, displaying maps of different categories and forms. The right area was smaller, containing some books and several chairs.
Those customers unwilling to leave sat there.
Going deeper into the shop were the counter and the living area in the back half.
A lady sat behind the counter. She looked about thirty, still charming, her gaze always carrying a lazy and casual quality when it swept over.
She lazily greeted Siles: “Anything you need?”
Siles walked to the counter and asked: “I need a detailed map of Lafami City.”
“Oh, that’s quite common. There’s a big pile over there. Find whatever kind you want yourself.” The woman said this.
Siles thought for a moment, then asked again: “Do you know the address of Ernestine Tavern?”
“…Ernestine?” The woman cast a doubtful look, that look seeming to say: Look at you dressed so properly and presentable, yet you want to go to that godforsaken place Ernestine?
Siles explained: “I need to help an elder search for her child.”
The woman immediately understood.
She was about to speak when suddenly, someone nearby walked toward the counter to chat: “Ernestine? Not that I’m not reminding you, sir, but that’s not a good place. It’s probably quite chaotic there now.”
Siles looked at this person with some surprise. This was a middle-aged man who looked successful, his tone also revealing the arrogant pride of someone who knew inside information.
Siles asked: “May I ask, what happened?”
This man probably felt Siles’s attitude satisfied him, so he nodded and said: “The rainy season is almost over. Merchants are all returning from the Ashless Lands. There are always some things that aren’t easy to sell openly—they have to circulate underground.”
Siles’s thoughts turned. He realized that Ernestine Tavern also served this function among underground gangs. Fencing stolen goods?
Mrs. Fenn didn’t seem to know about Ernestine’s fencing function, thinking Anthony was just mixed up with underground gangs. But Mr. Fenn was also a merchant. The Fenn family might originally have connections with Ernestine.
What was the real reason Anthony Fenn ran away from home and stayed at Ernestine?
Siles had originally thought this was just a story of a rebellious boy running away from home. Unexpectedly, there seemed to be hidden circumstances behind this.
Siles thanked this man.
Mentioning the Ashless Lands seemed to attract attention from some other customers. One of them, dressed like an adventurer, complained to the woman behind the counter: “Ms. Mapa, your maps of the Ashless Lands here seem a bit too simple, don’t they?”
They chatted. Siles listened while going to the side to browse through maps of Lafami City.
He discovered there were indeed many, many maps of Lafami on the shelves—not just current ones, but maps from different periods during Lafami’s city-building process. Among them was even a map atlas bound into a thick volume, recording Lafami’s complete process from nothing to something.
Siles browsed with interest, then selected a relatively complete map of Lafami City as today’s gain.
During this process, the conversation at the counter didn’t stop.
“Maps of the Ashless Lands are inherently very simple.” Ms. Mapa rebutted unceremoniously. “You want topographical maps, but the most detailed thing I have here is the railway map of the Ashless Lands.”
That person said again: “But now, isn’t the Grand Duke saying he wants to carry out the Withered Wasteland Major Development Plan? How can development happen without detailed maps?”
Ms. Mapa said even more unceremoniously: “Come on. Then you might as well join the exploration team organized by the Grand Duke. Why search for complete maps here in the old city? Real maps are, of course, in official hands.”
“Who knows when that will be.” That person muttered. “Time is money now.”
“That’s true.” Ms. Mapa’s tone returned to that lazy, unconcerned manner. “Might as well wait for the winter break market. There’ll definitely be explorers from the Ashless Lands setting up stalls then. Maybe you can get maps they drew by hand. It’s only a few months away.”
Winter break market?
Siles was somewhat interested in this matter, but he didn’t plan to show his curiosity at this time. He confirmed Ernestine Tavern’s location on the map, then spent one duke coin to buy this map.
He felt his money didn’t seem quite sufficient and couldn’t help sighing bitterly in his heart.
The hundred-denomination note the original body’s mother sent with the letter—unless absolutely necessary, he didn’t want to use it. Therefore, he could only hope his savings would last a bit longer, and that Mrs. Fenn would indeed keep her promise and refund the rent money.
He’d prepaid three months’ rent—fifty duke coins total. This was also quite a large sum.
Carrying such thoughts, Siles returned to 13 Milford Street.
