Lord of Mysteries 2: Circle of Inevitability

302 Mummy Ashes
Madam Magician didn’t say more and asked again, “Do you want to return to Salle de Bal Brise now, or stay here until noon?”

Lumian had never left Intis, let alone come to the Southern Continent. Since he had nothing planned, he nodded and replied, “I’d like to explore around a bit.”

Madam Magician gave a slight nod and vanished before him.

Almost instantly, a bone-chilling wind swept through the crowd and struck Lumian.

Having come from Trier in the summer, he couldn’t help but shiver in the harsh highlander winter.

Accompanied by the cold breeze, the distant clamor of the market, a few hundred meters away, filled Lumian’s ears, making him feel truly immersed in this world.

Recalling how Madam Magician’s arrival and disappearance had gone unnoticed by the surrounding people, Lumian quickly made a guess.

Did she create a wall of spirituality or pull me into a separate alternate space?

As these thoughts raced through Lumian’s mind, he noticed that the passersby looked at him with wariness and puzzlement. He was only wearing a thin shirt, a black vest, and thin pants, which were hardly suitable for the harsh winter.

“What are you staring at? Haven’t you seen someone acting cool?” Lumian muttered. Relying on Alms Monk’s endurance, he nonchalantly ventured into the market.

The smell of fresh livestock dung, the sweet aroma of corn, and the tantalizing scent of roasted meat with spices filled his nostrils.

Lumian surveyed the area and spotted numerous stalls selling various food items made primarily from corn. There were boiled whole corn, roasted corn with red sauce, corn chunks served in thick soup, roasted corn wrapped in beef and mutton, onions, and potatoes, corn ground into a gooey paste and stuffed into various meat chunks, and corn spread into rough flatbread sprinkled with ingredients…

After a moment of consideration, Lumian made his way through the “cleared” path among the marketers and arrived at a stall.

The stall owner was a man in his thirties with dark and flushed skin, gaunt face, high cheekbones, and dark brown eyes. He had long greasy black hair and wore a black felt hat along with a dark red robe made of wool and other materials.

Lumian pointed at the bubbling yellow corn paste in the iron-colored pot and asked in Intisian, “How much?”

He had noticed that some folks here understood Intisian. The transactions were done using various metal currencies, including verl d’or.

The stall owner seemed scared, and he replied in non-fluent Intisian with a hint of flattery, “5 coppet for 1 cup.”

A lick, pretty cheap… Lumian glanced at the corn paste with mutton chunks and pulled out a brass coin with a Hornacis mountain range pattern on the front.

The vendor breathed with relief and quickly produced a paper cup that didn’t quite match the market’s style and technology. He filled it up generously, even adding a few extra meat chunks.

As Lumian received the cup, warmth spread through his body.

It was a wonderful experience to have something warm while enduring the biting wind.

The even better experience was the warm corn paste flowing from his mouth into his esophagus and into his stomach, spreading warmth to every nook and cranny of his body.

The corn paste, with its light sweetness and a hint of spiciness and pungency, perfectly complemented the beef and mutton cubes, neutralizing their gamey smell. It was peculiar and appetizing, a treat for his taste buds.

Ignoring the cautious glances from the women and the fear and loathing from the man driving the cows and sheep, Lumian sipped his corn paste and made his way to the end of the market.

Soon, he entered the City of White, Rapus. He spotted the golden Eternal Blazing Sun cathedral and the God of Steam and Machinery cathedral adorned with various industrial components. The white buildings, shops selling leather and fabrics, the Highland Import and Export Corporation, and the Rapus Mining Federation signs were all visible. Carriages pulled by long-haired cows and medium-sized horses filled the streets, accompanied by locals in robes and a few foreigners in formal attire.

Lumian picked a shop called Highland Mystic Potion and entered like a tourist.

The owner, an Intisian in his forties, with typical black hair and blue eyes, wore a white shirt with floral patterns, thick cashmere clothes, and a dark blue coat with golden trim.

Upon seeing Lumian, he greeted him warmly, “Good morning, dear compatriot.”

The man checked out Lumian’s attire and asked with concern, “Did you encounter a bandit?”

“I just arrived in Rapus. There was an accident on the way,” Lumian replied, smiling with a Trier accent.

The proprietor of the mystic potion nodded in understanding.

“The Southern Continent isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, but it’s a paradise for adventurers. I arrived in West Balam fifteen years ago in search of opportunities. Life only turned for the better when I found true opportunities in the City of White. By steam!”

With a sigh, he drew a triangular Sacred Emblem on his chest.

“By steam!” Lumian responded with the same etiquette.

The owner’s smile grew warmer.

“Brother, would you like some mummy powder? Real mummy powder!”

Lumian looked around the small shop and smiled.

“Why don’t you display the mummy in the window to prove its authenticity?”

The boss smiled sheepishly and said, “That would upset the barbarians.

“Some buy mummy powder, but most can’t accept mummies as commodities.”

Lumian deliberately said, “When I left Trier, there was a shortage of mummy powder. The price skyrocketed. Ever thought of transporting mummies back to Trier for sale?”

“Maritime trade is too risky, and the import-export companies give terrible prices, not to mention the taxes they charge. Those damned hyenas!” The owner glanced at Lumian, testing the waters, “If you’re willing to take the risks, we can cooperate.”

“How many mummies can you provide?” Lumian feigned skepticism.

The boss smiled.

“That depends on how many you want. I have the right connections.”

I can have as many as I want? Have you unearthed the grave of a nobleman from the Highlands Kingdom? Or will you find a corpse or even a living person to make one on the spot? Lumian engaged in a conversation with the owner of the Highland Mystic Potion and left the shop, pretending he needed time to consider the offer.

After wandering for some time, Lumian came across a magnificent three-story white building by the roadside, bustling with locals swarming in.

Curiosity got the better of him, and he followed the crowd inside, only to find Intis soldiers, clad in their distinctive black triangular hats and blue coats with gold threads, guarding the entrance in their white pants and black leather boots.

Rapus, Lumian thought to himself, is truly an Intis colonial city. His gaze settled on the golden words above the main entrance, which read: “Rapus Specialized Court.”

Taking a seat in an empty corner of the courtroom, Lumian tuned in to the trial that was underway.

Two Intis soldiers stood accused of a heinous crime—intercepting a newlywed couple in the suburbs, murdering the husband, and subjecting the wife to unspeakable horrors.

The latter was fortunate enough to survive. With numerous witnesses and ample evidence, the entire case appeared quite clear-cut.

After much deliberation, the judge, who was now holding the third hearing, finally pronounced them guilty, decreeing their immediate expulsion from the highlands. Upon their return to Intis, they would face further punishment in a military court.

The verdict didn’t sit well with the local crowd, and they expressed their dissatisfaction loudly. However, the judge remained resolute, ordering bailiffs and soldiers to remove the dissenters from the court.

Lumian observed the faces of the agitated and angered locals as they were forced to leave, and only when they had gone did he decide to leave the courtroom as well.

As he strolled past the Eternal Blazing Sun cathedral’s square, he noticed a group of clergymen in white robes adorned with golden threads.

They were walking towards the cathedral, keeping a safe distance from the crowd, and speaking in hushed tones.

Lumian, relying on his Hunter’s ears, strained to catch their words from afar.

Though the distance made it difficult, he managed to make out two phrases: “Evernight’s power… has invaded this place…”

What could that mean? Is the Evernight Goddess Church of the Loen Kingdom extending its reach into the Star Highlands? Lumian pondered for a moment before continuing on his way.

…
At 12:30 p.m. Trier time, Madam Magician escorted Lumian back to Salle de Bal Brise, and he reappeared in his bedroom.

He sat down at his wooden table and began organizing Mr. Poet’s interpretation of the dream’s symbolic elements.

In the midst of his work, Lumian heard familiar footsteps approaching and an impolite knock on the door.

Putting down the fountain pen, Lumian stood up and glanced at the entrance.

“Come in.”

It was Franca, dressed in her usual attire of blouse, beige breeches, and red boots. However, she now wore a light-colored pleated dress around her waist.

“Very strange,” Lumian remarked honestly.

Franca sighed, a mix of joy and melancholy on her face.

“I’m not used to wearing dresses yet. This will have to do for now.

“This is to welcome Pleasure.”

“Pleasure?” Lumian was puzzled by the term she mentioned.

Franca closed the door behind her and explained with a complex expression,

“Since you’ve joined the Iron and Blood Cross Order, my initial mission is considered accomplished. Now, I’ll see if I can join and assist with your operation.

“And since the mission is complete, there should be a reward. The next Sequence for a Witch is Demoness of Pleasure.

“Yes, I already have all the main ingredients and most of the supplementary ones, except for real mummy ashes. I came to ask if you could keep an eye out during your mysticism gatherings. Damn it, those mummy ashes sold in shops are all fake!”

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