Crimson Servant

Chapter 8 The expected news

Dear Francis:
  Nora stole something from me again. Although I took precautions, it seems now that I just fell into her trap. The cunning druid has succeeded again.

My letter is not just to share this interesting story with you, my friend. This time, what Nora took was very special and dangerous.

She stole my [Crimson Holy Emblem], a ritual badge containing the power of Veltis. The followers of the Crimson God once used this holy symbol to perform rituals to indicate their identity. After I received the "gift" from the Crimson God, this Holy Emblem became a burden to me, so I put it in an unimportant place, and now, Nora took it away for some reason. This piece of wooden handicraft is worthless on the market.

I have never mentioned the meaning behind the crimson holy symbol to anyone, and Nora is not supposed to know. So what really worries me is the undercurrent behind the theft of the Holy Emblem. Who was she seduced by? Who else but me understood the power of the Crimson God and took action. I'm reminded of the rumors you shared with me a few months ago about the resurgence of cultists. At the time I dismissed it as a false rumor, and now I just hope the worst doesn't happen. Contact with the devil's followers is definitely the most dangerous social endeavor, and Nora's situation is very dangerous.

I didn't even dare to pray, because these might be what the crimson god would like to see happen.

I have been to Nora's secluded cabin. It is clean and there are all signs that she is about to embark on a planned long journey. After writing this letter, I will also pursue her clues and try to find her before everything goes bad.

Francis Blade, my miraculous friend, if your magic works again and you find Nora Sebas before me and capture her, please beat her up and take this with me worries.

Your loyal friend, apprentice, beneficiary

John Camp
  ……

John picked up the clay tablet that had been written with orchid juice and walked out of the darkroom. He came to the front desk of the reading room and greeted the waiter wearing round glasses.

The dark elves only had a business-like attitude towards John, and their contempt did not lessen after taking over John's purse.

John handed her the square clay tablet, and the dark elf raised his glasses to carefully examine the blank clay tablet in the sunlight. Those magic glasses can only see the area where the secret potion is applied, but not the content. When Francis conveyed this method of communication to himself, John expressed surprise at the fluorescence unique to the dark elves, an underground race. They fully embody the cunning character of the underground race in the sophistication of their secret codes.

"To whom?" The waitress took out a goose quill brush dipped in magic potion and hung it on the clay, waiting for an answer.

"Francis Blade."

"Dark Reaper?" The dark elf's tone changed a little.

"Hmm...is that his title?" John thought for a moment and felt that this title was more in line with Francis' temperament.

"That was his crime...it could also be used as a title." She wrote Francis' name on the clay tablet in the ancient Elvish language to ensure that only he could read it. Afterwards, the dark elf placed the sealed clay tablet on the highest level of the bookshelf behind him and reminded John at the same time.

"The storage period is five days. You can overwrite it after that and you will be charged again."

Because the potion will dry after five days.

After finishing his work, the dark elf couldn't wait to ring the bell next to him, and two guards immediately walked into the reading room and "invited" John out.

Walking on the street, John saw two dark elf slave-catching teams passing by, and accidentally exchanged glances with the shackled human slaves among them. The numbness in the eyeballs made people feel distressed.

This is not a good sign, and John usually doesn't notice these negative signs at all. He took a few deep breaths, letting the cold air enter his trachea and scrape at his lungs like a knife.

He was going crazy. After learning that the Crimson Holy Emblem was stolen, John felt his hands and feet were cold, as if he had returned to the days of being on tenterhooks on the Juancrete Plains. The knowledge he painstakingly researched, the magic gained from collecting blood, and the armor built with strength were easily penetrated by fear. The absurd thought that nothing had changed over the years gave me a headache.

"Calm down, John." The warlock accepted the prying eyes from around him and continued to move forward pretending that nothing happened.

"It's much better now than before. Yes, I have many solutions now."

"Viltis, Wiltis, you are not my only savior now. I am no longer as weak as I was before."

……

"Can you divine Nora's whereabouts, Mariana?"

Through the puppet he controlled, the Mind Flayer looked at John Kemp, who came to his divination house during the day. He took off his hood almost as soon as he entered the room, walked to the only seat and sat down, reaching out and grabbing the palm of the golem tightly. He couldn't get any warm comfort from the cold metal joints, and the gem eyes he stared at through the thick veil were also cold. The whale oil candle burned quietly, and the smoke of soothing incense filled the dim environment.

The doll's body emits a much softer voice than Mariana's body.

"I don't do divination, John. I just mentally hypnotize my customers and tell lies that are vague but consistent with their psychology based on their inner wishes. They all buy into it."

"I guess so do I," John said without thinking, a comment that quickly aroused Mariana's dissatisfaction.

"I have never regarded you as a child who needs to be coaxed, John, and even now, I will not change my opinion. You are smarter than many people, and I believe you can get out on your own."

John sighed and spent ten minutes adjusting his mentality in silence.

"You're right, I still need to sharpen myself."

John let go of his hand, stood up, and bowed to the puppet sitting behind the table.

"I'm sorry to disturb your work. I've already made adjustments, Marianne. You don't need to come see me tonight." The puppet stood up and walked out from behind the table. As soon as it moved, the inhuman incongruity was completely exposed. Despite this, Marianne's doll bid John a fitting farewell.

"It doesn't matter. There are fewer and fewer fools who believe in divination, and business is not that good now."

"I didn't dig out the information about Nola from the customer's mind, but you don't have to worry too much. Nola is very cunning, you know this. She can trick you, a crimson believer, into a circle, and you can't do it with others." You won’t suffer any loss.”

“Keep your own pace, stick to your own pace.”

"You're going to be right, we all believe in that, we've been so sure from the beginning of knowing you."

John Kemp laughed and made a somewhat open-minded joke.

"Is this your divination?"

"Of course not, I don't take the money."

……

Nothing had changed in the days since returning from Mariana's fortune telling house. There was no news from the Ogre Gambling House, no message from Marianne, and no dark elf with a sword kicked in his door.

John Kemp has been conducting his own research and familiarizing himself with the newly acquired magic, never slacking off for a moment. At the same time, he was also packing his bags carefully to make adequate preparations for the long journey.

The sacrifice to the Crimson God was still going on, and the silent Wiltis did not give any new instructions, which made John quietly sigh in relief.

Finally, on the sixth day after Nora disappeared, Carlton's scream interrupted John Kemp's research.

The tangled chains of sin shook off the damaged elemental embers within, and John took out a potion bottle to collect the waste together. This can still be used as a throwable as a random elemental grenade, but of course far from its original value.

John walked downstairs with a cold face. Near the front desk of the hotel, he happened to see a yellow-green rough-skinned monster stuffing the hotel's only janitor into his big mouth stained with disgusting saliva. When the troll saw the warlock, a piece of his calf fell out of his mouth. He quickly spat out the goblin who had been stunned by the bad breath, rolled his eyes, and explained to John Kemp:

"He just told me that he would pack lunch. I thought he was a cook."

Do you originally regard the cook as part of the ingredients?
  John did not ask this strange question, but maintained the demeanor of an evil spellcaster and said coldly: "I hope you brought me good news, otherwise you will be a cook."

The troll trembled visibly, and hurriedly took out a piece of dirty linen from the dirty pocket of his apron, which was obviously an instruction from their leader. The troll stared at the dirty cloth for a long time, and just when John wondered if it was because it was too dirty to see the writing clearly, he spoke.

"The boss said..."

"Don't pronounce what's in the brackets, brackets."

"The Red Mage made an appointment... or something like that. We have found clues about the female thief Nora Se... Russ..."

"This clue has not been proven accurate, but you don't have to tell that red mage, bracket."

"Three days ago, our informant discovered her traces in the underground city market west of Grimmjow..."

"She is alone, with no entourage around her. Well, we can leave this aside for now. We will bring it up later when we try to blackmail twenty gold coins. Feel free to use it, brackets."

"The information is absolutely accurate. Please give the forty gold coins intelligence fee to my men. Don't think that the trolls are all fools and can't count!"

"Your sincere intelligence dealer, the troll Baroque, the creation of the great Adrian!"

"Repeat! Remember not to pronounce the parentheses, you idiot! The parentheses."

"Okay, I've finished reading."

John Kemp pretended to be calm and maintained the professionalism of a spellcaster. Carlton clung to the counter, covering his mouth with both hands, suppressing the redness of his cheeks, looking like he wanted to laugh but didn't dare.

The warlock passed by the front desk, took out the prepared money bag from the counter, and handed it to the smiling troll.

"Thank you, I feel your sincerity. By the way, can you count?"

The troll laughed and wiped his mouth with a dirty cloth. Because it was holding the stick in its right hand and had to hold the money bag with its other hand, it put the dirty piece of cloth full of language skills written on it on Carlton's counter in its left hand, then picked up the money bag, and then used the stick in one hand and the money bag in the other. leave.

"Of course I will!"

"But I believe you!"

(End of this chapter)