Chapter 96: Farewell, Fifth Prince |
Samuel crossed one leg and leaned back again, adjusting his center of gravity with the bed’s wobble as he lay on the rickety mattress.
He brought his right hand to his mouth, formed an “OK” gesture, then gently blew into the circle made by his index finger and thumb.
“Phew…”
A translucent bubble floated out from Samuel’s breath.
This was the same kind he had given Celt before, something he could make as much of as he wanted without difficulty.
Soon the bubble detached from Samuel’s hand and drifted in the air.
“This is what Celt wanted, right?” Samuel moved his hand a little and watched the bubble hovering in midair.
Inside it was sealed a “dream,” though it wasn’t complete; its contents would shift based on the dreamer’s subconscious desires.
Only after truly implanting it into someone’s soul would the dream bubble be considered whole.
“Whoosh!”
A dozen bubbles sprang out. His hand became a bubble gun spraying a string of spheres.
“Aha, that should be enough.”
Samuel fanned them gently upward with his left hand holding the Travel Guide, letting the bubbles drift farther away so they wouldn’t splatter all over his face.
He flipped the Travel Guide open with his thumb and lazily glanced at the files recorded inside.
The Guide floated on its own, so he didn’t worry about it falling and hitting his face; he just propped it loosely with his thumb.
Although he watched the book, his attention wasn’t on it.
He was replaying everything that had happened over the last three days.
Especially yesterday.
What a show.
His eyelids drooped slightly as he recalled it.
That Sacred Law Knight was the same one he had met three days ago at Mr. Pride Wyatt’s gathering, Samuel could confirm that for himself.
So the knight being here must mean Wyatt had permitted it?
Samuel didn’t think that knight could have done something under Wyatt’s nose that Wyatt wouldn’t allow.
Although both should be Law Contemplators, in Samuel’s perception Pride’s strength was clearly greater than that knight’s.
He thought it over and drew a conclusion.
The knight might not know that the source of this memory was Wyatt.
No, more accurately, he didn’t know that Pride was part of the Odius family; otherwise a Sacred Law Knight wouldn’t have behaved that way toward Wyatt.
So Wyatt’s tacit consent was interesting.
The knight could have come here with Wyatt’s covert assistance.
Then he would show up and try to force that Bard to “bow.”
What was he doing?
Hoping to change the course of what actually happened? For what reason? What was the point?
Samuel shook his head, denying his own speculation.
Not likely. From what he heard at the time, it seemed that just making the Bard “bow” was enough; whether it contradicted the original history didn’t matter.
Bow… Pride…
Was Wyatt being asked to go against his own Law?
Samuel clearly knew that a Law Seeker’s power came from both Law Marks and their own steadfast heart.
Law Contemplators were an even greater case.
So why…
No, the point was why Wyatt would permit a knight to do such a thing.
Samuel’s gaze swept across Pride’s file.
If you reverse-engineer the process from the result, the outcome would be the knight thinking he was breaking Wyatt’s “Law,” while actually aligning with the historical development in the memory, becoming one of the drivers pushing Liant Town to “overlap” with history.
Played.
The poor knight was being toyed with by Wyatt.
Samuel’s mouth tilted upward. He stretched out his right hand and touched Wyatt’s file with his finger.
When his finger met the page, it seemed to dip into water and plunge inside.
With his index finger and thumb he pinched together, grabbed the Law Marks “Gambler” and “Madman,” and gently pulled.
………
Samuel’s house.
Celt had just finished breakfast and put down his fork, wiping his mouth with his handkerchief.
He didn’t clear the plates in front of him; a hand wearing a white lace glove reached from the side and lightly took the plate away.
“Thank you.” Celt smiled and turned to the maid Alia, who had only arrived the day before.
“It’s my duty.” Alia answered in a very soft voice.
“How nice,” Celt, unused to having servants, blurted out, “you’re the best maid I’ve ever seen.”
Alia lowered her head slightly at the compliment, a bit flushed, seeming shy.
Celt’s ears twitched; he noticed her heartbeat showed no acceleration at all. With an unchanging expression but some exasperation, he turned his head back, rolled his eyes with the back of his skull.
Pathetic acting.
If Samuel were here he definitely wouldn’t miss the heart part of the performance.
Unprofessional.
Celt could only give sixty points, barely passing.
With her looks that added ten points, it became seventy.
Yes, effective bonus points.
Sixty for acting might be debatable, but the ten-point attractiveness bonus was indisputable.
At the stairwell to the second floor, Sereia floated down slowly, descending like a hat and landed on Celt’s head, two tentacles curling beneath his chin and wrapping it.
The bell-like body drooped, forming a semi-transparent veil in front of Celt’s face.
Celt smiled and reached up, and her tentacles immediately curled around his hand.
After absorbing human souls, Sereia had clearly become smarter.
Celt could feel curiosity radiating from her.
With her increased intelligence, she had grown more curious about the surrounding environment.
Curious about the villa, about Celt’s actions, and about Celt himself.
But the familiarity they had built these past two days didn’t fade.
She had thoroughly made Celt her “tribe leader.”
Hmm, the new maid and butler had brought food back yesterday from outside, so they were treated as hunting dogs.
“Mr. Celt and Miss Sereia look lovely today.” Butler William, passing nearby, praised politely.
“Thank you.” Celt smiled again in response.
He rose and adjusted his clothes without removing Sereia from his head.
“I’m going out for a while. You can do whatever you want during this time.” He said to the two Iris Housekeeping Services staff members.
He still suspected they were undercover, so he generously gave them a chance to rummage through the house.
“Shall I prepare a carriage for you?” William asked without pressing into Celt’s comment.
“We don’t have a carriage at home.” Celt smiled, “Yes, maybe buy one later.”
“I will take note.” William answered steadily.
“All right then, I’m off. Bye.” He casually set his bowler hat on his head, waved, and pushed the door open.
“Safe travels.”
William pressed one hand to his chest and bowed slightly.
Alia also stepped forward and bowed.
Celt walked through the gate into the small front garden.
He paused his gaze on the flowers planted at the entrance for a few seconds, as if pondering something.
“Heh, let Samuel mind his own headache.” He chuckled lightly, then quickly averted his gaze and moved on, leaving the garden that had a fence but no gate.
………
Three hours later, outside the Reins Housing Rental and Purchase Association.
Yawning, Celt stepped out of the association door with Sereia that ordinary people couldn’t see perched on his head.
He’d tried to register an address for the Theater, but was thoroughly beaten down by bureaucracy.
He was completely deflated.
Three hours.
A full three hours.
Travel time plus going to the bank to convert gold into yur took only about half an hour.
Then arriving at the association to register a venue for the Theater, the paperwork took him two and a half hours.
So boring…
All pointless red tape.
Everything had fees.
He’d barely finished one set of procedures, and the rest would take three days.
He even used emotion manipulation and subtle dreamcraft to hurry things along; only then did he manage to finish within three hours.
Another day missing Samuel’s straightforward mind-control ability…
A carriage waited by the curb for over two hours.
But Celt had hired it for the whole day, so the driver wasn’t in a hurry.
No matter how far they went he paid the same.
So if they ran fewer errands he still profited.
With free time he could read the paper; it was winter, so no worry about heatstroke from the sun.
“To the Continuity Church on Althern Street.” Celt climbed into the carriage and waved.
“All right.” The driver nodded, tugged the reins, flicked the whip lightly, and the horse pulled the carriage toward the West District’s Continuity Church.
The driver was not surprised.
Going to church in this era was always reasonable.
Especially today, a Friday.
There would be more attendees.
Although this church was niche, it was still normal.
The association and the church weren’t far apart, and in less than twenty minutes the carriage stopped.
“Sir, we’ve arrived.” the driver reminded him.
“Oh, that fast?” Celt closed the Travel Guide and glanced out, spotting the steeple-topped church.
They had arrived as expected.
And true to form, he found the same unmarked yet sufficiently luxurious carriage at the church entrance he had seen last time.
After all that delaying, encountering someone efficient felt strange.
The carriage stopped. Celt stepped down and entered the church.
He walked through the aisle into the main prayer hall.
The church looked much like the last time he’d come.
But it was Friday today.
There were slightly more people than before.
Just a little more, still far fewer than the mainstream churches in this country.
Celt scanned the interior and quickly found Allenay among the few worshippers.
He still sat in a quiet corner, quietly sketching.
Today he wore a silver silk shirt with delicate lace trim at the collar.
Over it was a short velvet jacket, and at his waist a wide satin ribbon tied into a bow hung to the side.
His golden hair was braided loosely this time, draped over his shoulder, a few stray strands clinging to his fair cheek. He still wore silk short pants, and the sensuous mid-thigh of his right leg remained encircled by that gray leg ring.
He kept his head down, holding his sketchboard, the pen moving on the board as he drew something unknown.
Thinking it over, Celt, with Sereia on his head, stepped over and sat down near Allenay, pulling the Harvest Scripture out of the Travel Guide.
Sereia above his head watched curiously as Celt took a book from the Guide.
She found it fascinating and grew curious.
She reached a tentacle out and lightly poked the two books in Celt’s hands.
Celt gently prodded Sereia’s tentacle back, then looked toward Allenay not far away.
His goal was to replace the current king. It wouldn’t hurt to talk with this ambitious Fifth Prince.
But his immediate task was finding an opener to “chat up” the Fifth Prince.
Yes, chat up.
There was no escaping it: although Celt subjectively knew this prince was male, sitting beside him and looking at him, Celt couldn’t help feeling like he wanted to flirt.
Just as Celt racked his brains for a way to start, Allenay spoke.
He lifted his head and looked at Celt, amber eyes meeting Celt’s golden vertical pupils.
“Royal Blood?” Allenay asked softly.
His voice was gentle and pleasant, quiet as if afraid of disturbing others.
Holy—box!
Celt looked down and glanced at himself.
“Are you surprised?” Allenay smiled gently at Celt.
“Ah, a little.” Celt nodded honestly.
Celt and Samuel had always been the ones to open other people’s information boxes; this was the first time someone had opened his.
“I didn’t expect you to obtain that Law Rhyme from me.” Allenay continued in a low voice.
He was sure that the last time he saw Celt, Celt had not yet possessed Royal Blood.
He watched Celt, feeling Celt’s aura, and his eyes held an inexplicable expression.
The Celt he encountered before had essentially been under Samuel’s control; the current Celt had broken free and been partially altered by Law Marks and a Law Rhyme.
To Allenay, this looked like an attempt to obtain his and Ethen’s Law Marks and Law Rhymes, the result contaminated by residual aspects of their minds.
Although in truth that was pretty much what happened.
It was just that Samuel had re-contaminated Celt himself afterward.
“So? Are you going to take it back?” Celt asked with a smile.
Allenay shook his head.
“No, it’s…” He hesitated, shook his head again, and stopped, not continuing.
Celt raised a brow.
Such an obvious fishing?
Would anyone really bite?
Fine, Celt had been hooked.
The essentially Absurd Law Seeker Celt’s interest was piqued.
Damn cunning man… no, damn cunning person.
“The prettier the woman, the more deceitful” plus “a man’s words are deceiving” combined to form the Allenay before him.