What on earth had gone wrong...
Lynn was deep in thought. Leveraging his noble status to meet Laud through trade had seemed like the fastest and safest approach, but he hadn't anticipated encountering such a significant obstacle right from the start.
This dilemma weighed heavily on him, and he couldn't shake the suspicion that Laud had perhaps received troubling news, causing him to deliberately go into hiding.
If that were the case, it would indeed be problematic. Finding someone who is purposefully concealed is no easy task.
As Lynn wrestled with these thoughts, the bustling port suddenly erupted into chaos. Amidst the clamor, a lavishly adorned carriage came hurtling down the narrow street towards him.
Which noble family could be so brazen?
Frowning, Lynn was about to step aside, but the carriage stopped directly in front of him.
Shortly after, a tall, slender, and impeccably dressed middle-aged man stepped down and bowed deeply.
"Finally, I have found you, Young Master Lotte. Please return with me at once. Lord Pedrell has urgent matters to discuss with you!"
Lynn was momentarily stunned by the unexpected summons and nearly failed to respond. However, recalling Lotte's diary, he quickly deduced that this man was the steward of the Pedrell estate. A cold sweat formed on Lynn's brow.
He had only intended to temporarily assume this identity to gain entry into the port town and arrange a meeting with Lame Laud. He hadn't anticipated that the real Lotte would come seeking him so soon—much sooner than expected.
To go or not to go?
Countless scenarios flashed through Lynn's mind. After a brief pause, under the steward's respectful and unwavering gaze, Lynn nodded, lifted the curtain, and stepped into the carriage.
The carriage jolted and creaked as it rolled slowly along the muddy roads of the dock, causing Lynn some discomfort.
"Before entering the estate, you should clean yourself up. Lord Pedrell will not be pleased to see you in this state!" The steward lifted the curtain again, glanced at Lynn's hands, and offered a reminder.
Lynn looked down and noticed his hands were covered in a yellow-black powder, likely from helping the halfling Bill with the cargo earlier.
Wait... Lynn suddenly raised his hand and sniffed.
The scent... could it be sulfur?
...
The Pedrell estate was located in the northwest of the port town, on its most bustling street. The towering black iron gates stood imposingly. As the carriage slowly passed through them, Lynn quickly took note of the hidden signs of neglect.
Fine weeds sprouted from the cracks in the pavement, and the flowerbeds lining the road had withered from lack of care.
It wasn't surprising, given that the Pedrell estate had not employed a dedicated gardener for quite some time.
After a brief freshening up, Lynn, guided by the servants, made his way to the estate's main hall. Baron Pedrell was already seated at a table draped in a deep red tablecloth, awaiting his arrival.
Seated beside him was a young girl with brown hair, around sixteen or seventeen, who gazed at him with an inscrutable expression. She was likely Lotte's sister, Ivina...
Lynn observed silently and took the only vacant seat. A plate of steaming steak and a few unidentified leafy greens were placed before him, clearly his dinner for the evening.
Compared to gnawing on black bread with water, this was quite the feast!
"Where have you been? My son, I intended to find you last night, but you were nowhere to be found," Baron Pedrell asked with a displeased expression, though his gaze involuntarily shifted to the tall steward standing nearby.
"I found the young master at the docks," the steward replied, unfazed.
Baron Pedrell's expression darkened immediately. He spoke in a low voice, "I should have warned you, Lotte. It's one thing to relax now and then, but you should never spend the night in such squalid places, mingling with filthy prostitutes!"
Lynn was left speechless. Did you really think I was with courtesans?
What made it worse was that he couldn't refute the claim, nor could he explain that your son hadn't returned because he had drowned.
Anticipating Lotte's expected response, Lynn bowed his head and remained silent.
"I do not wish to see this happen again!" Baron Pedrell's tone was stern. After a pause, he continued, "Additionally, you must remain vigilant in the coming days. The port town is not safe at the moment."
"I've heard that Archbishop Anselk recently led a large force to Ur Town to capture those devilish cultists, only to suffer heavy losses. Out of a hundred elite guards, only a handful returned alive. Moreover, Archbishop Anselk himself was gravely injured..."
"Are these witches truly that formidable?" Ivina, now shifting her gaze from Lynn, asked in astonishment.
It was well-known that although the Sekas Empire was ruled by kings and lords, true power lay with the church!
Or rather, with the great Star Lord, the emissary of Ella, the goddess of creation, on Earth.
A high-ranking archbishop like Anselk was undoubtedly regarded as a divine representative within Nordland, and the idea that such a powerful figure could be defeated while hunting witches was hard for Ivina to grasp.
"These witches are corrupted by demons and wield magic beyond ordinary imagination. They are not easily vanquished," Baron Pedrell shuddered as he spoke.
A year ago, he had met Archbishop Anselk, who seemed to be of similar age to himself, perhaps even younger. Yet tonight, upon their reunion, he encountered a frail old man in his eighties or nineties. He could hardly fathom what kind of magic could reduce such a powerful archbishop to this state.
What Baron Pedrell couldn't imagine was that the other protagonist of his tale was calmly sitting beside him, methodically cutting into his steak with knife and fork...
Lynn was somewhat surprised to learn that Anselk was still alive. He had expected the archbishop to have met one of three fates in such a situation: poisoning, being crushed by falling rocks, or sacrificed to complete the divine ritual.
Perhaps the so-called projection of Ella had saved him.
Yet it was evident that the rescue was not entirely successful; otherwise, Pedrell wouldn't have mentioned the archbishop's severe injuries...