Anyone seeing such a painter standing at the edge of the square would naturally assume he was sketching the scene.
Siles had thought the same. This wasn’t the first time he’d encountered this young man.
However, when his gaze inadvertently caught the drawing on the paper, he instinctively froze, because the first thing he saw was neither architecture nor crowds, nor any still life, but a patch of pitch black.
The entire upper half of the paper was painted black, like a storm about to strike with dark clouds everywhere. The lower half showed normal buildings, crowds, and the square.
What did this painting mean?
Siles looked around. The weather was bright. July’s rainy season was about to pass. Though weak, sunlight was already shining on them, and a bright season was approaching.
But in that painting, the world remained trapped in the center of a storm, never finding any peace.
Siles almost instinctively frowned.
For some reason, when seeing this painting with dark clouds pressing down like a besieged city, he instinctively thought of the turmoil related to the Ashless Lands, and also of the apostate and the previous roll.
A storm was coming.
Siles held his breath.
The young painter noticed Siles’s gaze. He instinctively tilted his head, and his gold-rimmed glasses flashed with a glimmer of light.
He saw Siles.
The next second, the young painter’s hand trembled, the pencil shook violently, directly scratching heavily across the paper, destroying the entire painting’s artistic conception.
Aside from that pitch-black cloud, the buildings and crowds below were actually very realistic and exquisite. However, this painting was now ruined by this abrupt pencil mark.
Siles hesitated, then walked forward and said to the painter, “I’m sorry, I disturbed you.”
The young painter pressed his lips together and shook his head.
He didn’t react to Siles’s gaze or subsequent actions. He lowered his head and carefully erased the pencil mark with an eraser.
Siles himself was reserved and taciturn by nature. Realizing this painter was introverted, he felt awkward and gave up conversing with him. He just took this opportunity to look more carefully at the painting.
He noticed that from a distance, the upper half was just a mass of pitch black, but up close, one could discover something seemed to be hidden within… something?
Siles didn’t look long, just two glances.
Then the painter packed up his drawing board and painting tools, then said softly to Siles, “Goodbye.”
After speaking, he merged into the crowd.
Siles was just momentarily dazed when the young painter directly disappeared.
Siles was somewhat baffled by the young man’s actions.
Was he… socially anxious? A socially anxious painter? But his painting seemed to have a hidden meaning…
Siles stood in place thinking for a moment, then shook his head and stopped thinking about it. The time was nearly ten o’clock. Siles went to a nearby restaurant for brunch, then arrived at Room 666 of the Historical Society around eleven.
He had two hours to read books from the room’s bookshelf.
When he came last time, Siles was very interested in the books here—they were all history books. The original body’s field of study was mainly literature, and his knowledge of history could only be described as superficial.
Therefore, after much hesitation, Siles finally chose a history book about the Duchy of Constance called The Grand Duke of Constance’s Self-Redemption.
It didn’t sound like a serious history book.
After opening it, Siles read quickly and somewhat changed his impression of the book.
Rather than being the Duchy’s history, this book was more like a personal biography of the first Grand Duke of Constance, describing in detail the Grand Duke’s family, children, career, psychological changes, and so on.
The Duchy of Constance was originally part of an empire called Sadin. The first Grand Duke of Constance obtained a large fiefdom through his family heritage and personal honor—that was the original location of the Duchy of Constance, with Lafami City as its core.
At that time, the Sadin Empire quickly withered and scattered into countless small countries because the mist descended on its capital, causing mass casualties in a short time.
This world continued a tradition of nobility. These small countries split from the Sadin Empire didn’t inherit the title “empire” but called themselves Duchy, marquisates, and so on.
However, to this day, those fragmented countries had long perished, leaving only the Duchy of Constance. This was inseparable from the first Grand Duke of Constance’s personal ability and vision.
The book detailed the Grand Duke of Constance’s youthful dissoluteness and profligacy, as well as his maturity and coldness after establishing the country and becoming Grand Duke, and didn’t gloss over his violent and manic side.
However, Siles wasn’t particularly interested in this part. He focused on the section about the Sadin Empire’s demise.
The fog directly shrouded the Sadin Empire’s capital?
Siles thought of the buildings, people, and once-brilliant civilization shrouded under that fog. That was probably a catastrophic disaster that came suddenly and destroyed everything.
Why did such fog appear? What determined where the fog descended?
Siles became curious.
He wasn’t unfamiliar with the Sadin Empire, because it was one of the most renowned empires in the Age of Silence. Although it had now also vanished in history’s fog, history likewise recorded this empire’s former strength, prosperity, and greatness.
Many literary works in the Age of Silence mentioned the Sadin Empire.
At that time, as gods gradually fell, the “human” aspect became more complex and vivid. Humans began to gradually care about themselves, praising human dignity, resistance, and indomitable will.
Therefore, the Sadin Empire, which had the strongest national power at the time, became a symbol and model proving humanity’s own greatness in countless people’s hearts.
Of course, this almost brilliant greatness was accompanied by the despair and cruelty of an approaching apocalypse.
That was an era when gods fell as rain and humans perished like grass.
Siles let out a soft sigh.
He closed the book he’d hurriedly finished reading. When he came to his senses, he found it was already one-thirty.
He stood up, stretched his limbs, and stood by the window looking outside. Although the space behind the Historical Society’s door clearly relied on unique rituals, looking out from this window, outside was still an ordinary, normal street.
Tomorrow, he would move to the dormitory at Lafami University, and a new phase was about to begin. Siles thought.
He quickly went through in his mind the things he’d done and needed to do.
Revelator matters were proceeding step by step; Keeper matters had no way to investigate, but he probably needed to maintain contact with the Fenn family and could closely observe that doctor’s situation.
As for the literary history professor’s responsibilities…
Siles thought of a task he’d been neglecting recently due to lesson preparation—the thesis.
Any university professor had corresponding academic requirements, and Siles, a rookie who’d just successfully joined, was no exception. His task this year wasn’t too heavy—he just needed to complete one thesis and publish it in an “adequate” level journal.
This world’s journal levels were divided into four categories, from low to high: entry-level, adequate, excellent, and outstanding.
Siles’s graduation thesis had been published in an excellent-level journal. His topic at the time was studying the life and literary theory of a famous Age of Silence writer, Conan Fremont.
Being able to reach an excellent level was mainly because this writer, Conan Fremont… well, not many people studied him.
In any case, an adequate level wasn’t difficult for Siles.
He’d been busy preparing lessons before and hadn’t thought about the thesis topic. However, the book he’d just read gave him some inspiration.
Why not look for literary materials related to the Sadin Empire?
Siles pondered this idea.
Suddenly, the room door was pushed open, and Eric Collens—that waiter from the Ernestine Tavern—walked in.
He saw Siles, smiled rarely, and greeted him.
“Eric,” Siles thought of what Anthony Fenn had mentioned before about the trade fair at Ernestine and became somewhat interested, so he proactively asked Eric, “There’s something I’d like to ask you.”
Eric seemed flattered. He quickly said, “What would you like to know?”
“No need for honorifics. We’re classmates,” Siles said in a low voice. “We’re both entry-level Revelators.”
Eric was silent for a moment, then smiled bitterly. “I feel… Siles, I find it incredible.”
“What?”
“About… Revelators.” This man with a forehead full of wrinkles looked at his rough palms. “Such power… can I really master it?”
Siles was also silent.
For that instant, he empathized with Eric. However, it wasn’t because of being a Revelator, but because of his own identity as the Keeper.
Siles looked calmly at this middle-aged man with fearful eyes before him—he was afraid because he could actually master such a magical, powerful force, and wasn’t Siles the same?
After a moment, Siles said, “Power can be controlled by us.”
Eric looked at him blankly.
Siles said gently but firmly, “Otherwise such power would be worthless.”
Eric couldn’t help but tremble because of the firm conviction in Siles’s tone. He gradually calmed down and suddenly laughed hoarsely. “Yes… I think my daughter would really like [Flowing Wind]. Every August, she complains about the heat.”
Siles also laughed.
Eric’s emotions quickly settled. Even if Siles hadn’t comforted him this way, this older, middle-aged man could suppress his various feelings and fight for survival for himself and his family.
But Siles had indeed comforted him with just a few words, so Eric was even more grateful to this young man.
He proactively asked, “What did you want to ask me just now? How can I help you?”
“Ernestine,” Siles said. “I heard that in early August, there will be a trade fair at Ernestine?”
