Fishing Up a Technique

Night fell. After enjoying a sumptuous dinner, Samael checked the supplies in the carriages, then took a stroll through the corridors to aid digestion.

Meanwhile, Freya was led into the bathhouse by the maid Dahl to wash off the grime and change into a fresh set of clothes.

The sound of water by his ears, along with the Fae Maiden's muffled whimpers, made Samael smile.

Though he had brought her back himself, Muriian showed not the slightest displeasure. She chatted and laughed with Freya the entire way, without the slightest sense of distance or awkwardness. She did not mention the incident in the village outside the city at all, and even sent over a set of clothes tailored by the Wind Clan.

Yet the more she acted like this, the colder Samael felt.

Trying to appeal to Muriian's friendship was probably unreliable. Finding that Earth Clan Chief would likely have to be handled by themselves.

The Ancient Serpent stroked his chin and pondered for a moment. After making a circuit, he returned to his room, shut the doors and windows, and sat at the table. As he poured himself tea and took a sip, he activated the prearranged Magic Formations on its surface.

"How are things on your end?"

At the Wind Clan's grounds, within the Grand Cathedral's grand and magnificent hall, the audience seats were packed to capacity.

Reclining in the back row with her legs crossed, the Great Sage sensed the resonance of aether. She pulled up her white hood, snapped her fingers, and answered lazily through several yawns. Clearly, she had little interest in this serious matter and was not paying much attention.

"The person you're looking for is too good at hiding. There hasn't been much progress..."

As she spoke, the surrounding air distorted, and an