The owl

Lumian had merely had a sudden flash of inspiration. He had no real intention of acting on it.

Leaving aside how many years had passed, owls had much shorter lifespans than humans. The one that had flown over when the Warlock died should have rotted into the earth long ago. The sheer number of owls in these mountains alone killed any desire Lumian had to track it down.

There were too many!

That owl didn't have any distinctive features, either... No, the legends never gave a detailed description of it, and Naroka didn't mention one just now... We still didn't ask enough questions... Lumian came back to himself and smiled at Raymond. "An owl connected to a Warlock might live for a hundred years."

Seeing Raymond grow even more frightened, he reassured him. "Don't worry. That's our last resort. I don't want to face a monster.

"Let's ask some other old folks. They might have a crucial clue Naroka overlooked."

Then he adopted a coaxing tone. "If I were a Warlock, I definitely wouldn't carry all my treasure with me or leave it at home. I'd hide some of it somewhere else, so that if the Tribunal launched a surprise attack and I had to flee immediately without grabbing anything, I wouldn't end up with an empty purse."

One of the important duties of the Eternal Blazing Sun Church's Inquisition was to eliminate all warlocks and witches. Tales of their "glorious achievements" circulated widely throughout the countryside.

"That's right!" Raymond perked up again.

With a wistful expression, he said, "What a shame. It's been so many years that the Church must have spent all the treasure they seized."

"Young man, that's a dangerous thought." Lumian teased him.

The two continued visiting elderly villagers, including old Pierre of the Mori Family and Nafelia.

Although their answers were much the same as Naroka's, Lumian and Raymond now had enough experience to draw out more details.

For example, the owl had been medium to large in size and looked much like others of its kind: a pointed beak, a catlike face, brown feathers scattered with fine spots, yellowish-brown whites around black pupils...

But it had been a size larger than similar owls, and its eyes seemed able to move, unlike the stiff eyes of its kind that made them look vacant.

In every account, these differences made that owl seem more sinister.

"It doesn't look like we have any useful clues right now," Lumian told Raymond on the road leading to the village square. "We'll have to focus on another legend."

"Yeah." Raymond was no longer as discouraged as he had been at first. "Which one?"

This guy's enthusiastic and hardworking... Lumian silently praised him and decided to give Raymond a little reward.

He nodded. "Go home and give it some serious thought. We'll discuss it and decide tomorrow.

"I'll teach you some fighting techniques this afternoon."

"Great!" Raymond was delighted by this unexpected offer.

Aurora was an excellent fighter. Otherwise, how could she handle some of the village's brutish men? Her younger brother should be pretty good, too.

After saying goodbye to Raymond Klegg, Lumian turned onto the path leading home.

After walking for a while, he saw several men approaching.

The man at their head was in his prime, not particularly tall, standing under one hundred and seventy centimeters. He wore a long white robe and had closely cropped black hair.

He had an imposing air, and his features could only be called regular, with a slightly hooked nose. The blue eyes fixed on Lumian held undisguised loathing and malice.

This was Guillaume Béné, the Eternal Blazing Sun Church's parish priest in Cordou Village.

"I've been waiting for you for quite a while," Guillaume Béné said grimly. "Did you deliberately bring those outsiders to the church?"

"I thought you were sleeping inside." Lumian offered a strained explanation while quietly stepping backward.

He recognized the man beside Guillaume Béné as the priest's younger brother, Pons Béné. In his early thirties, he was burly and overbearing, and enjoyed bullying the villagers.

The others were thugs who followed him and the parish priest.

Seeing Lumian retreat, Guillaume Béné gave Pons a meaningful look.

Pons Béné stepped forward with a vicious grin.

"You little bastard, come meet your daddy Pons!"

Before he had finished speaking, he quickened his pace and lunged at Lumian. The other thugs did the same.

In a rural place like Cordou Village, reasoning with people neither kept them in line nor earned an apology. Only direct, forceful measures inspired fear and respect. The parish priest, Guillaume Béné, understood this very well and habitually acted accordingly. Thus, once he confirmed that Lumian had brought those outsiders to the church, he decided to catch the brat and beat him savagely-until he couldn't get out of bed for a month, until someone compensated the priest on his behalf.

Of course, they had to avoid Aurora.

As for the law, he only needed to say a word to Beaost, the administrator and territorial judge. The city's constables wouldn't make a special trip to the countryside to investigate something as trivial as a fight.

And as an outsider, Beaost wouldn't offend a locally born priest like him unless their interests were seriously at odds.

Fortunately for Guillaume Béné, those outsiders hadn't spread word of his affair with the administrator's wife, Madame Pualis. Her husband remained unaware for now.

They were fast, but Lumian was faster. The moment Pons began speaking, he had turned and broken into a sprint.

He knew the parish priest's gang and their way of doing things very well.

A villager had once informed the Eternal Blazing Sun church in the city that Guillaume Béné not only had several mistresses, but also skimmed the faithful's offerings to the Eternal Blazing Sun and freely bullied others in the village, behaving nothing like a clergyman. Later, one afternoon, that villager had somehow fallen to his death.

Thud, thud, thud!

Lumian ran so fast he stirred up a gust of wind.

"Wait for your daddy!" Pons shouted as he chased him, his speed surprisingly quick.

The thugs followed close behind as well.

Bursting out of the path, Lumian didn't flee along the main road. Instead, he charged straight into the nearest house.

The family was preparing lunch in their kitchen, which doubled as a living room, when they suddenly saw someone rush inside.

In a flash, Lumian darted around them and vaulted through the window at the back of the kitchen.

By the time Pons and the others chased him inside, the owners had recovered from their surprise. They stood to block the intruders and demanded:

"What are you doing?

"What are you people doing?"

"Out of the way, old bastard!" Pons viciously shoved the man aside, but it still cost him a little time.

By the time they reached the window and climbed out, Lumian had already run into another lane.

After chasing him a little longer, they lost sight of Lumian completely.

"Damn stray dog!" Pons spat a mouthful of green phlegm beside the road.

Outside the two-story, partly sunken building.

Lumian steadied his breathing, then opened the door and entered as though nothing had happened.

"One, two, three, four, two, two, three, four..." A rhythmic chant reached his ears.

Lumian looked toward the open area on the other side of the kitchen and saw Aurora bouncing around, drenched in sweat. Her blond hair was tied in a ponytail, and she wore a flax-colored shirt, snug white trousers, and dark ankle boots made of lambskin.

In Cordou Village, most of the ground floor traditionally served as the kitchen, the heart of the entire home. Cooking, eating, and entertaining guests all took place there.

Exercising again... Lumian was already familiar with such sights and wasn't surprised in the slightest.

Aurora often did strange things and wouldn't explain why, even when asked.

At least exercise is a good thing, and it's pretty nice to watch, too... Lumian moved closer and quietly watched her.

After a while, Aurora stopped exercising and bent down to turn off the black, battery-powered tape recorder.

She took the white towel Lumian handed her and wiped the sweat from her forehead. "Remember your fighting lessons this afternoon."

"I have to study and learn to fight. Aren't you asking too much of me?" Lumian complained offhandedly.

Aurora glanced at him and said with a smile, "Remember, our goal is well-rounded development in morality, intellect, physical fitness, aesthetic appreciation, and practical skills!"

The more she spoke, the happier she became, as though she had recalled some wonderful memory or amusing incident.

I've already failed morality... Lumian muttered inwardly.

Instead, he asked, "What kind of fighting are we learning?"

One of the things that puzzled him was how Aurora, who looked so delicate, could be a skilled fighter versed in so many different fighting styles. Every time, she overwhelmed him so completely that he couldn't fight back.

Aurora thought seriously for a moment, leaned forward slightly, and tilted her face up to look into Lumian's eyes.

Then she chuckled and declared loudly, "Self-defense against perverts!"

"Huh?" Lumian said in surprise. "Isn't that something girls learn?"

Aurora straightened and shook her head solemnly, speaking with earnest concern. "Boys need to protect themselves when they're out and about, too.

"Who says boys can't encounter perverts?"

The smile creeping across her lips gradually became impossible to hide.

Unable to tell whether his sister was joking or truly intended to do this, Lumian could only stay silent, take back the white towel, and head toward the stairs.

Suddenly, something caught his foot as though he had tripped over an object, and his whole body pitched forward.

While falling, Lumian hurriedly tightened his core, reached out to push against a nearby chair, then flipped over and managed a reasonably steady "landing."

Aurora withdrew her outstretched foot and clicked her tongue with a smile. "One of the essentials of fighting is always being aware of your surroundings. You can't afford the slightest lapse.

"Got that, my rookie little brother?"

Her right hand had already caught the back of Lumian's vest, but when she saw him regain control of his body, she withdrew it.

"That only happened because I trusted you too much..." Lumian muttered.

After thinking it over, he decided that trust in this respect was utterly pointless. He had lost count of how many similar tricks Aurora had played on him.

Aurora coughed and composed her expression.

"How did your conversation with that woman go?"

Lumian gave her a rough account of the conversation, then concluded, "I'm planning to wait until your friends reply before considering exploring the dream."

"A wise choice." Aurora nodded in satisfaction.

Lumian changed the subject.

"What are we having for lunch?"

"There's some toast left from breakfast. I'll roast four lamb chops for you, too," Aurora said after a moment's thought.

"What about you?" Lumian asked.

Aurora said casually, "I'll just have shredded bamboo partridge with truffles, plus some cheese and onion soup. I tried it last time and found it quite..."

Before she could finish, her entire body suddenly stiffened.

A second later, she raised both hands to cover her ears, and the muscles of her face gradually contorted.

It gave her beauty a somewhat hideous cast.

Lumian watched silently, his eyes filled with concern and worry.

After a while, Aurora let out a long breath and returned to normal.

Her forehead was covered in sweat again.

"What happened?" Lumian asked.

Aurora smiled.

"My tinnitus flared up again. You know I've had this problem for ages."

Lumian didn't press her. Instead, he said, "Okay, I'll make lunch. Get some rest."

At times like these, his desire to obtain supernatural powers became all the more urgent and resolute.