Trino City (4.8k)

Ivan hadn't answered Gais's question earlier because he'd been thinking about extraordinary materials.

The Church of Divine Grace's "Blood of the Lord" corresponded to the Order Aspect. Its extraordinary material was God Blood, possibly the blood of some kind of animal.

Then what did "Eyes of the Lord" correspond to? Surely they didn't expect people to eat animal eyeballs...

His expression turned strange. The thought of eating raw eyeballs still disgusted him.

Gais's refusal had surprised him, but Ivan didn't think there was anything wrong with it.

Looking down at Gais, who was drenched in a cold sweat, he silently examined himself.

Come on, I'm not some bad Jellyfish.

This guy didn't let extraordinary abilities go to his head. He even knew to choose an Aspect suited to him.

But your Lord doesn't know what other Aspects there are, let alone which one suits you...

As Ivan pondered, a flash of inspiration crossed his mind.

The Church of Divine Grace's "Eyes of the Lord"!

The corresponding Aspect should have something to do with memory or the mind. It seemed perfect for Gais.

He considered his wording, then his grand voice rang out again.

"Right before you."

Gais understood quickly. In an instant, he grasped what his Lord meant.

"Right before me... The Lord must mean that ability to alter memories."

He recalled his every move that morning, along with the kind smile of the Church of Divine Grace's bishop.

"That's right. The bishop of the Church of Divine Grace must have another Aspect, one corresponding to... the Eyes of God."

A smile tugged at Gais's lips. Ignoring the looks of those around him, he fell to his knees in reverent prostration.

"I shall obey your revelation."

Seeing that Gais had fully adapted to his cryptic style, Ivan couldn't help nodding again.

"Good. There is no need to rush."

"At midnight tonight, go to South York and find another of my followers..."

His voice gradually faded, leaving Gais with the feeling that it had traveled far away.

Gais remained facedown on the ground. Only after the Lord's voice had disappeared completely did he slowly rise.

He straightened his disheveled gray-white hair and adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses. His trademark smile returned, though his eyes now held a hidden fervor.

Gais hurried away from the street, heading south toward the factory district beneath the midday sun.

Ivan remained hidden, watching Gais's retreating figure.

His tentacles tapped lightly against his body, as if he were pondering some secret.

Well, how should I conduct the Baptism Ceremony tonight...

I wonder if Little George will bring some vessels. To be safe, I'll take a look at the commercial street nearby first.

Ivan flew out of the alley and returned to the broad street west of the church.

Drury Street was clearly livelier at noon than in the morning.

At the entrance, dark green carriages stood in a long line. The coachmen wore uniforms of various colors, while men who looked like administrators checked their identities one by one.

Only carriages bearing the exclusive crests of nobles, or those presenting business cards with titles such as director of the Trino Royal Bank, could pull directly into the reserved area beside the main thoroughfare.

The other gentlemen and ladies of lower status had to get out and walk from here.

"Are parking spaces here really this hard to come by?" Ivan found it all quite novel and floated farther into the street.

A stall had been set up outside one of the shops near the front, its frame made of walnut.

The vendor held up a forkful of beef still streaked with blood and called out to the customers around him:

"Freshly slaughtered Angus beef from the farm yesterday! Bone-in loin for just two shillings and sixpence a pound!"

A middle-aged man who looked like a butler immediately stepped forward, pulled three one-Gold Pound notes from his leather wallet, and ordered ten pounds of beef.

That was enough to supply the duke's household kitchen with three days' worth of meals.

Farther along, the curtain of a tea shop billowed in the breeze, letting out the scent of black tea.

The proprietress wore a fitted silk gown and measured tea leaves with a silver spoon for a lady.

The lady wore a black veil that hid her face, but her bearing radiated elegance and nobility.

When it came time to pay, she pulled a banknote from her velvet purse without even looking at it, then turned and left gracefully with her tea.

The Drury Street Royal Theater was still closed. It seemed performances were only held in the evening.

Ivan was sorely disappointed. He'd been hoping to use his invisibility to watch a play for free.

Watching the wealthy people of West District spend their money, he couldn't help but sigh inwardly.

It's great to be rich. That's true in every era.

Why haven't I seen any general stores or shops selling tableware...?

Ivan's gaze fell on a porcelain shop. Its doors stood open, and the shelves facing the street displayed bone china teacups decorated with gilded patterns. The label below read:

"Sale: set of six, only 3 Gold Pounds."

Only? Three Gold Pounds? They might as well rob me.

Ivan figured that even if he looted all of Gais's possessions, he still wouldn't be able to afford a set of teacups here.

He gave up on buying ritual implements—at least, he gave up on buying them here.

I can only hope Little George is prepared. When the time comes, I'll just show up and help with the revelation or something.

As Ivan made his way along the street, he sensed where Little George was and flew toward the eastern part of the city.

In the villa district behind the commercial street stood an elegant mansion.

Expensive, unfamiliar wood burned in an exquisite marble fireplace.

Facing the fireplace was a velvet sofa with soft, sky-blue cushions, their seams studded with gleaming pearl buttons.

A walnut coffee table stood in front of it, holding bone china teacups and a silver sugar bowl engraved with a lion-shaped crest.

Beside the coffee table, a girl of about sixteen stood before a beautiful aquarium, staring curiously at the black-and-white tropical fish inside.

Her fluffy, light-blonde curls fell to her shoulders, the ends gently curling. A pearl hairpin adorned her hair.

Her skin was bright and fair, her eyes a clear, pure sky blue. Her long lashes brushed the tiny freckles beneath her eyes whenever she blinked. The freckles did nothing to mar her beauty and innocence; if anything, they added a touch of playfulness.

She wore an off-white dress with a soft pink hem.

A little lace showed at the tops of her white stockings, and she wore black-dyed suede boots.

Transparent lace gloves covered her hands as she pressed excitedly against the aquarium glass, ruining the elegant impression she ought to have made.

"Father, this little black-and-white fish is so beautiful!"

"Ha-ha, I'm glad you like it. I went to a great deal of trouble to buy it from the fastest steam fishing vessel in the Southern Continent. They say it's the only one in the entire Kingdom of Rhine!"

A middle-aged man in a velvet suit watched her with a beaming smile.

His hair was meticulously groomed, a few strands of pale gray mixed into the dark brown. He held a cane in his right hand, its shaft decorated with intricate gold filigree and its top set with an unfamiliar gemstone. A cross-shaped brooch was pinned to his suit collar.

He was Logan Gustav, the mayor featured in the Trino Worker's Daily.

"All right, my dear Diana. I still have to attend Duke Isaac's afternoon tea. As a young lady, you must mind your manners even when you're home alone. Don't be so careless again."

"You weren't the least bit graceful when I took you to meet young Victor of the Trino Royal Bank."

"I know, Father!" Hearing that she would be home alone made Diana Gustav even more excited.

Mischievous stars gleamed in her eyes. She completely ignored her father's lecture.

"Honestly, I wonder who you take after. Your mother must have spoiled you rotten."

The man sighed. The mansion's front door clicked shut behind him as he left.

Diana peeked out to make sure she was alone, then immediately fished a book out from beside the sofa arm. It had been hidden in the gap between the embroidered cushions, like some precious secret.

The book's cover was made of dark brown leather, its surface covered in fine cracks. It felt a little cool to the touch.

She had stumbled upon the old book that day in the school's library archive. It had sat quietly in a corner of the shelves, covered in dust. The twisted writing on its spine was in the ancient language she was studying.

The Book of Rituals.

Diana recognized the title. She had always been interested in mysterious things, and the discovery thrilled her.

Once, a classmate had said that strange bells rang from the attic of their old family home late at night.

Diana had volunteered to investigate the attic that evening, only to find their neighbor's beloved missing cat.

She had secretly borrowed the book from school and brought it home, planning to study it properly when she was alone.

Excited, she opened the cover. The first page was a yellowed endpaper bearing a line of faded cursive in the ancient language:

"Those who peer into secret rites must do so with reverence."

"Peer into secret rites..."

Diana eagerly flipped through the pages that followed.

But to her disappointment, most of the pages had stuck together from age and decay, leaving their contents impossible to make out.

Her brows drew together at a cute angle, but her hands kept moving as she tried to find a page she could read.

At last, she found one that was still fairly clear and intact. The ancient words on it were faint, but it seemed to describe a mysterious ritual.

Diana translated the words one by one, her petal-pink lips murmuring softly as she unconsciously read the translated sentence aloud.

"Great... Lord... of All Spirits..."

Before she could read any further, an elusive, mysterious aura began to emanate from the Book of Rituals in her hands.

Diana felt the air around her grow cold. She hunched her shoulders and rubbed her beautiful golden curls.

"Did I summon something?"

The strange sensation didn't frighten her. Instead, she was thrilled by her unexpected discovery.

"Am I about to enter the mysterious world of the extraordinary?"

Diana squeezed her eyes shut, but even after a long while, nothing happened.

Unwilling to give up, she searched every corner of the mansion but found nothing unusual.

The girl's enthusiasm slowly faded. She placed the book on the shelf in her bedroom and pouted, muttering under her breath.

"I thought I'd found something incredible..."

Meanwhile, Ivan hadn't gone far from West District when he faintly sensed a wisp of faith power drifting toward him from somewhere behind.

He turned around in surprise and looked toward the clean, orderly streets.

"Gais already left. Could someone in the wealthy district to the west be praying to me?"

Ivan shook his head, amused by the thought.

These people probably believed only in their status and the Gold Pounds in their pockets. Even those who had attended the Church of Divine Grace's Holy Blood Ritual that morning might not have been particularly devout.

He assumed it was just his desperate longing for faith power playing tricks on him. He paused in midair for only an instant, then continued toward Little George.

The East District of Trino City was also known locally as the "Dock District."

Several steam merchant ships were moored along the canal. White vapor from their smokestacks mingled with the fog. There was no proper seaport here, but the dockworkers were more crowded and more frantic than those by the sea.

Little George clutched the heavy Gold Pound in his pocket as he crossed the gravel path beside the canal.

Just after passing through the docks' gate, he came across a freight wagon stopped by the road.

Before its wheels had fully stopped turning, workers surged toward it like a wave. They wore patched work clothes, some with holes worn through at the elbows.

"Move! Out of the way!"

A stubbly worker charged toward him. Little George deftly dodged, but another worker behind him was knocked to the ground. The man didn't complain. He scrambled back up and squeezed toward the wagon again.

Little George didn't look back. He kept walking and turned into a narrow alley.

An old shop stood at the alley's entrance. The wooden sign hanging above the door read "Miller Grocery Store." Its paint had peeled away, exposing the rotten wood beneath.

The shopkeeper, Miller, was a lame old man. He sat on a little stool, wiping the candles in the display case with a cloth.

"Here to buy something today, boy?" Miller's voice was hoarse, but familiar. He knew the child always came to buy the cheapest black bread and sometimes traded scavenged copper nails for half a piece of cheese.

"Mr. Miller, I... I want a hundred loaves of black bread," Little George said softly, placing the Gold Pound on the counter.

Miller's eyelids drooped. Without even raising his head, he said:

"One loaf of black bread costs half a penny."

When Little George didn't answer for a long while, he glanced up. A bright yellow glint caught the corner of his eye.

Was that a Gold Pound?

"Mr. Miller, I want a hundred loaves of black bread and ten bottles of table wine," Little George repeated.

"Hm? Where'd you steal a Gold Pound from, boy? What do you need so much food for?"

Old Miller rose from his stool and picked up the glittering Gold Pound on the counter, examining it carefully in the afternoon sunlight.

"I joined... a gang. This is our supper. Sorry for the trouble, but please deliver it to the entrance of South York Poorhouse before midnight!"

Little George didn't explain further. He picked out some old tableware from the grocery store as well.

"Mr. Miller, how much is all this?"

"I'll make it five shillings total. I'll get everything ready and deliver it tonight." Old Miller smacked his lips. His eyes showed his surprise, but he restrained himself from asking more.

Little George nodded, pocketed his change, and left the grocery store.

Once he was out of sight, Old Miller took an envelope from beneath the counter and quickly wrote a note.

Half an hour later, in a noisy tavern in the Dock District.

The air in the hall reeked of cheap beer and sweat. Many dockworkers who hadn't found work were here, drowning their sorrows.

"Damn it! There's less and less freight coming through the docks. I haven't found a job in two days!" A stubbly worker slammed his mug onto the table, spilling most of his beer.

"If this keeps up, we won't even be able to afford black bread next week!" Several workers beside him immediately joined in. Their curses and complaints drowned out the whistles of the canal boats outside.

Behind them, someone climbed the stairs to the upper floor, making them creak with every step as if they might collapse at any moment.

The note detailing Little George's purchase was carried up with those footsteps and delivered to a room on the second floor.

A middle-aged man in a dark blue coat sat at a wooden table by the window. His sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, revealing neat silver-gray tattoos.

With half a cheap cigarette dangling from his mouth, he picked up the note in confusion. He'd only read it twice before laughing aloud.

"Ha! There's a gang in Trino City I don't know about? Now that's a fresh one in this fog!"

His low voice held a hint of rasp, but mingled with the clamor of the docks outside, it carried with an eerie clarity.

"One hundred loaves of black bread, ten bottles of wine, delivered to the Poorhouse..."

"What kind of gang dinner is that? It's clearly some sort of secret gathering!"

The messenger chimed in:

"Looks like what the Church and the government said was true. There really are some cults in Trino City lately."

The man sitting at the table let out another scornful laugh.

"Cults? Ten years ago, it would've been hard to say who the cultists were."

He rubbed his forefinger against his thumb, crushing the cigarette butt in his hand.

"The Church of Divine Grace has had it easy for too long. It's about time they had something to worry about."

The skin on his forearm quivered a few times with the movement of his hand. In the glow of the setting sun, his silvery-gray tattoos seemed to come alive, resembling faintly visible scales.