Chapter 527

Chapter 150 The Old Servant

The long night stretched on, with the dim lights flickering in the distance.

The chilly night wind of September swept through the town, rustling the grass and trees. At the outskirts of the central square, the tangled branches of the Tavijis fruit trees swayed in the wind. Several paths leading east to the square were already packed with people, shoulder to shoulder. The crowd had spilled out into the areas overgrown with weeds, far beyond which the stage illuminated by bonfires was no longer visible.

The cold wind could not dampen the high spirits of the people. The bustling noise rose and fell continuously in the heart of the town. People wrapped in cloaks looked up eagerly under the night sky. The surrounding flames cast a bright light, clearly outlining the outlines of countless houses and the church.

On several paths leading south to the tannery, due to the generally taller buildings, many people had already climbed onto rooftops, sitting or standing, pointing at the stage, drinking beer, and laughing loudly. The entire town was filled with a lively atmosphere.

As time passed, this atmosphere grew even more intense. Finally, after much anticipation, a man holding torches danced nimbly onto the high platform at the four corners of the square amid thunderous applause. He spewed red flames towards the bonfire, and the brilliant light burst forth with the sound of drums. The crimson curtain was lifted by the wind, soaring and slowly descending. The male artist dressed as a prince made his grand entrance, and the long-awaited performance finally began.

In this first act, it told the story of a noble prince from Silgaya falling in love with a shepherdess.

Long ago, there was a prince who fell in love with a shepherdess during his travels. An evil black sorcerer who coveted the kingdom found out about this and cursed the shepherdess, turning her into a wooden figure. Since then, the kingdom experienced constant rain. Determined to save his beloved, the prince embarked on a quest to defeat the black sorcerer, enduring countless hardships until he finally beheaded the wicked sorcerer. The rain ceased, but the shepherdess never woke up again.

The prince never remarried and remained devoted to his lost love. After centuries, the shepherdess was venerated by the townspeople in a small church in the countryside. One day, the great Mother Goddess took notice of her and, moved by her plight, used divine power to lift the curse and transformed her into an angel, tasked with carrying on the prince’s legacy and protecting the people here.

It was a sad story, but due to the humorous performances of the artists, who inserted amusing acts and lines throughout, the central square was filled with laughter. Even those farther away, unable to hear the dialogue, treated it as a mime show and found it quite enjoyable. By the end of each act, the audience erupted in applause and cheers.

Tonight, Buckhorn Town was unprecedentedly lively.

So lively that those refugees who had fled from the southern regions had forgotten they had lost their homes, fields, and even their wives and children. They were immersed in the blissful joy, as if the bloodshed and warfare far in the south had turned into a distant dream.

On the clock tower to the west of the square, I sat cross-legged on the stone platform at the top, holding a bag of sweet biscuits and a water pouch filled with juice. I watched the noisy crowd below, eating slowly. When the biscuits became dry, I unscrewed the water pouch and took a sip.

Soon, the second act began.

The woman had yet to appear on stage.

The clock tower stood on one side of the high platform to the west of the central square, about twenty meters from the stage. Due to its flat-topped brick structure, unlike the common domed or pointed ones, the wide platform obscured the view below. People couldn’t see me sitting there, while I could clearly see the stage in the center of the square. Thus, this spot became an excellent vantage point for observation—

My task tonight was simple: sit here, keep an eye on the woman, and wait quietly for the clown to appear.

Of course, I wasn’t the only one with such a task…

I could clearly see the play on stage. Although the noisy commotion made it difficult to hear most of the artists’ lines, I didn’t care much about what they were saying. I wasn’t there to watch the performance; I had no particular interest in it and lacked the mood to sit down and appreciate it.

After leaving Daniel’s old house, some things… kept swirling around in my mind, no matter how hard I tried to distract myself. My thoughts were chaotic and wouldn’t stop.

And the words that woman said to me earlier kept popping up in my head, lingering there.

Blood, the land of dragons, ruins, divine relics, the children of Cataroma… their blood…

The south, war, the dead…

From any perspective, the actions of the Gate of Truth were extremely brutal and unforgivable—madman-like behavior. From the state of the south, those hateful heretics… some of them didn’t even have faith, but simply acted recklessly and took pleasure in it.

It seemed that for those madmen, such as the sixth senator, the purpose of this war was merely a slaughter feast. They took pleasure in killing and torturing, coming to West Continent to crush village after village, killing all living beings they saw, like beasts.

Although I hadn’t seen the clown yet, I thought that compared to the madmen I had encountered and killed, he might be the most inhumane of them all…

But that woman, no matter how much I hated her and wanted to kill her, there was one thing I had to admit… she was different from those madmen.

Even though Daniel told me that this gruesome, inhuman scene I witnessed…

Her actions suggest that she might be the one in charge.

I hate her for this…

But she is definitely not crazy.

She is different from the clown and those others.

She has faith.

She has…

A hope that she would achieve even if she shattered into pieces.

…I know this sounds absurd.

But in our brief conversation, she gave me such a feeling.

It’s like discovering that a ruthless murderer who has committed heinous crimes is actually a good person by accident, and those people weren’t killed by her… This kind of plot only seen in third-rate TV dramas, where people shout “Is this really whitewashing? The screenwriter’s values are off,” could possibly happen in real life — that’s how absurd it feels.

…Laughable.

Although laughable, it lingers on.

That woman…

What did she mean by what she said to me…

Incoherent…

“Crunch, crunch…”

Biting into a sweet cookie, I shook my head forcefully.

No…

I shouldn’t be thinking about this…

That’s just the seductive words of a heretic; I can’t let her words affect me, absolutely not…

But…

Daniel’s attitude towards this matter and his reaction after hearing about my meeting with the woman seems a bit strange…

…Strange?

What does he know—

“Good evening, Miss Silviga.”

!! !!

The instant the call came from behind, I jumped up from the top of the tower like a cat with its fur standing on end. My mind was blank, but my scalp tingled, and my blue eyes glowed as my frost-covered fist swung instinctively towards the back!

Whoosh—

“Miss, please calm down.”

The trembling yet calm voice sounded again. Just as the force of my punch surged forward, a small black shadow flashed past, barely evading the wind of my punch. Like a ghost, he flashed three meters away, stood upright, hunched over, and coughed lightly twice: “I have no ill intentions.”

He seems like an old man…

“Who are you?”

The pale blue glow in my eyes faded, and I frowned, asking.

An old man could sneak up behind me silently…

“I am Sebastian, Miss Mather’s old servant, sent here to report several matters to you, Miss.”

…She has someone here.

She actually arranged subordinates in town! Does Daniel know about this…

Internally shocked, I clenched my fists instinctively: “Heretic?”

“Do not be nervous, Miss Silviga. Miss Mather has no hostility towards you. She is still preparing for the upcoming performance, and I am here to tell you some information about the clown.”

…About the clown?

Is he here to be friendly and share intelligence?

No, heretics cannot be trusted…

“How did you know I was here?”

I frowned again, still on guard.

“Miss, ever since you met Miss Mather, I have been watching you in secret,” the old man’s voice was neither humble nor arrogant, as if he were saying something quite ordinary.

But I widened my eyes in shock.

“You were following me?”

“Yes, it is my duty. If I have offended you, please forgive me.”

…I forgive your father.

This old thing…

Watching me for so long, I didn’t notice at all… No, even Daniel didn’t notice. He must have seen me enter that old house…

Damn it…

Weird heretics…

“What do you want?”

“No other intentions, just to tell you a few things about the clown. Miss Mather believes you might underestimate the clown’s strength, so she sent me to warn you.”

“…Why?”

What kind of joke is this? Isn’t the clown one of them?

Could it be that woman wasn’t lying when she said she wanted to kill the clown…

Is she serious?

Seemingly chilled by the cold wind, the old man adjusted his coarse cotton coat, buttoning up the top button. His gray hair fluttered in the wind as he brushed it back: “Miss Mather said that tonight’s performance wants to go smoothly, but she is worried that before then, you might let the clown take advantage, which would disrupt the show, causing panic. This is what she doesn’t want to see.”

“…”

I was momentarily speechless.

She seems to look down on the church…

“What benefit does killing the clown bring you?”

So straightforwardly asked because I seemed unsure of what to say to him, yet unwilling to easily believe the old man’s words, and more unwilling to let him speak half-truths like the woman did, I decided to get straight to the point to see his reaction.

“Purging evil,” the old man said solemnly.

Then, he seemed to laugh: “Miss, you certainly won’t believe me. So, you can think of it as an internal conflict within our Order of Truth, and Miss Mather’s goal happens to align with yours, so she is willing to help the church… Is that acceptable?”

The old man paused: “Miss, I think… In a situation like tonight, having one less powerful enemy and gaining a strong ally, allowing the clown to die quietly without causing further disasters or disturbing the public, is beneficial for the church, right? After the clown’s death, you can proclaim the victory of this war.”