Hai Na Gets a Griffin

You call this the Fairy Village? Where would you find Fairy Village inhabited by so many humans!

Lily instinctively turned her gaze to Iver and asked softly, "Is this... the worse possibility?"

"... It's hard to say."

Iver shook his head, feeling that strange sensation in his heart becoming clearer.

While walking along that Small Forest Path, he had a strange experience—despite being fully alert, even wary, he felt a sense of ease and contentment.

If I had to describe it, it's somewhat similar to the feeling of receiving aromatherapy. Or it's akin to taking a walk alone in the woods in the quiet of the early morning when there's no work or anything else to do. A profound sense of peace washes over you, and time seems to stand still.

Sherlock clearly experienced the same strange sensation, which is why he understood what Iver meant.

—If this is the Fairy Village, then this anomaly is quite reasonable. They only need to deal with fairies.

But what if this isn't the Fairy Village...?

"... Then there are only two possibilities. Either a very powerful superhuman has placed a large, normally functioning barrier here to protect the village; or there is an anomaly here, and the intensity of this anomaly is enough to distort the sharp eyes of Fourth Level White Lion."

Iver said cautiously, "Regardless of which one... we must be prepared to come into contact with Fifth Level power."

Just then, they saw Hai Na waving in the distance.

"You've arrived!"

She ran over excitedly.

But when she was halfway there, she saw Sherlock next to Iver, and the smile on her face gradually faded and her pace slowed down.

By the time she jogged up to Iver, her speed had almost stopped. She tilted her head, looking at little Sherlock with some confusion.

"... Is this Mr. Sherlock's brother?"

"You've disappointed me, Hai Na. You've been staring at it for so long, even a dog would have lost its fur by now, and then you say, 'Is this a rabbit?'"

Sherlock Jr. said coldly, "I now hope you can think before you speak. Your brain will become useless if you don't use it for too long."

It's Mr. Sherlock!

Hai Na immediately confirmed Sherlock's identity.

She was somewhat taken aback. "How could you..."

... How did it get smaller? But these words were too shocking, and for a moment she dared not say them.

How could someone possibly become young again? "That's exactly what I was thinking. What's going on?"

Sherlock spoke expressionlessly, staring at Iver.

Iver smiled broadly and waved his hand, "Don't worry about the details—you have to cherish the present. Many things, once missed, are missed forever. This is a limited edition."

"Well said."

An old man's voice of admiration came from the side. "Cherish the present... Hai Na, you should learn from your friend."

The old man's skin was as black as charcoal, and his right pupil was a nearly transparent sky blue. The slightly cloudy pupil was reminiscent of melted oil paint.

He had a deep scar across half his face, splitting his left eye in two. As a result, his left eye had shrunk, becoming smaller than his right eye, and the color of his pupil had also faded.

A well-preserved elven short sword, clearly worn by time, hung at his waist. However, he was not wearing armor, but rather a long, black, stand-up collar overcoat for warmth and comfort.

"Grandpa William!"

Hai Na clearly recognized the Old Inspector —if nothing unexpected happened, this should be the "only overseer in the village who fishes every day" that Hai Na had mentioned to Iver earlier.

Iver gave the other person a deep look, then turned and met Sherlock's gaze.

Sherlock shook his head slightly, signaling not to act rashly.

They also confirmed that... there was indeed a problem with this village.

—Because both Iver and Sherlock knew him.

Although he looked older and had a few more scars on his body... he was undoubtedly the Old Inspector from the Promotion Ritual that Iver had just experienced! At that time Iver's grandfather was still a young man in his twenties or thirties. But this man looked at least fifty or sixty years old—his short hair was turning white from the roots and becoming thin and soft, and his dark, square face had clearly visible wrinkles; he looked like the kind of person who usually had a stern face.

Even if he's not an inspector... wearing black-rimmed glasses makes him look like a dean of students.

Now, his features look much softer. The wrinkles on his face are more pronounced, but his eyes are not so clouded that he can't see people clearly.

That was in 1839. Now it is 1898.

Almost sixty years have passed.

Iver is almost as old as his grandfather was back then.

The old man who was almost sixty years old back then, has become... less than seventy years old after sixty years?

The old man stared at Iver for a while.

He gradually revealed a friendly smile and extended his hand to Iver: "Young man... you're quite promising."

Iver reached out and gave him a firm shake. He felt the warmth of that palm, like a furnace, and a strength that was completely unlike that of an old man.

"May I ask your name?" the Old Inspector asked.

"Iver Moriarty".

Iver smiled reservedly and said calmly, "The soon-to-be Minister of Everything in Avalon."

"... Minister Moriarty!"

The Old Inspector was clearly surprised, then smiled, "What an honor! No minister has ever visited our little village before. Even the Swan Minister only made a brief stroll through Bagpipe Town ... May I reveal your identity?"

But he never doubted Iver's identity—impersonating a minister in Avalon was a capital offense. Besides, he had heard of the surname Moriarty ...it was the surname of the Founding Family.

As a descendant of the Founding Family, it is not impossible for him to obtain the position of minister at a young age.

"Of course you can say that, sir."

Iver nodded reservedly, his expression gentle yet arrogant, perfectly fitting the stereotype of an outstanding young person educated by the Founding Family: "It's no secret—my identity will be published in the Glass Staircase Newspaper in less than a month."

"I'm just here to say hello to my friend Hai Na. There's nothing shameful about it, especially since she's now ' Meg's ' apprentice."

" —Meg!"

The old man's eyes widened in astonishment. "It's that person..."

"That Grand Arbitrator, Grandpa William."

Hai Na reminded her from the side.

She wore a smug smile, clearly enjoying Iver's flattery.

Although she didn't know why Iver suddenly wanted to reveal this information upon meeting her, she had been holding it in for a long time. She was just waiting for an opportunity to spill the beans and show off!

"Hai Na, your griffin has arrived."

Glancing at Hai Na, Iver changed the subject, patting the young griffin who was affectionately nestled beside Iver: "Her name is Liz, she's a fifteen-year-old girl. Treat her well."

"... Liz!"

Hai Na was so happy she almost screamed! My griffin, my griffin!

—She's finally here! She's finally here! And she's a noble White Feather Griffin! Hai Na couldn't care less about anything else—she was so moved she was almost crying.

She cautiously approached, half-kneeling on the ground, and gently stroked Liz's feathers. Liz also leaned in to smell Hai Na's scent, then sneezed and contentedly rubbed her neck against Haina's.

"Hello Liz, hello... my good child..."

"My name is Hai Na," Hai Na said softly, her voice filled with emotion, as she reached out and hugged the griffin. "Hai Na Dane, your forever trusted partner."

She never knew she could speak with such gentleness, "Are you hungry? Did you eat before you came? I'll get you some of the freshest meat. Beef might be hard to find, but there should be fresh wild boar meat in the village now..."

Iver, with his hands behind his back, coughed lightly, but still did not interrupt Hai Na's rapture and excitement.

The Old Inspector also leaned over and whispered to Iver, "I actually mistook you for someone else just now... Minister, you look a lot like one of my old friends. By the way, this child..."

"—I am Arthur."

Sherlock spoke, using his father's name as a pseudonym without hesitation.

Hearing this, Iver smiled slightly and added with a touch of mischievousness, "His name is Arthur Conan Doyle... the apprentice and assistant of the famous detective Sherlock."

"Mr. Sherlock is a bit busy, so he asked his assistant to help us with the investigation."

"...investigation?"

The Old Inspector asked, somewhat puzzled, "Has something happened?"

"It happened more than a decade ago."

Iver bowed slightly and replied earnestly, "I think you are probably not mistaken... because I am actually an orphan adopted by the Moriarty Family."

"And my real surname is Alexander. Iver Alexander —and my grandfather was Jacob Alexander. He spent the last few years of his life here."

"I came because of his death."

I'm finally getting back to seven and a half hours of sleep... I'm recovering, I'm recovering!

It's the last day for double rewards, remember to vote, guys!