Lord of Mysteries 2: Circle of Inevitability

The adventurer scoffed, “Unconfirmed. Only when it’s inked into The Adventurer series is it truth. They say Fors Wall was specially hired by the Church of The Fool to promote Sparrow’s exploits.”

Just as I suspected, the famous author, Fors Wall, operates under the protection of The Fool Church, allowing her to write without fear about the secrets of the great pirates… Lumian asked with interest, “So, the relationship between Gehrman Sparrow, the former Vice Admiral Ailment, and the current Queen of Ailment is real?”

“I’d bet on it. The Queen of Ailment herself has never denied it,” the adventurer replied, clearly enjoying the conversation.

After their chat, the adventurer, with his playful demeanor, found Lumian even more appealing. He smiled and asked, “How should I address you? After learning your name and you becoming a legend like Gehrman Sparrow, I can brag to other adventurers that I knew you before you became famous.”

His last sentence was laced with good-natured jest.

“Louis Berry,” Lumian offered his alias. “What about you? Perhaps you’ll be the next Gehrman Sparrow.”

“Batna Comté.” The adventurer with the wide-aperture revolver and exquisite rapier chuckled and said, “I don’t expect to end up like Gehrman Sparrow. I wouldn’t mind becoming the next Blazing Danitz or even the former Strongest Hunter of the Fog Sea, Anderson. That would be quite satisfying.”

Quite ambitious… He doesn’t seem like a newbie to the seas… Lumian quickly assessed Batna, unconsciously slipping into a Conspirer’s mindset. He still believes achieving power like Blazing Danitz is possible after everything he’s seen. That suggests a strong sense of self-belief… Could he be a Beyonder as well?

Adjusting his golden straw hat, Lumian smiled at Batna Comté. “Drink’s on me. How about it?”

Stepping into Port Farim, the bustling capital of the Fog Sea Archipelago, Saint Tick Island, Lumian carried a double purpose: to unearth more pirate intel and acquire the remaining supplementary ingredients for the Reaper potion.

This mission demanded contact with Beyonders and local information brokers.

As his thoughts raced, Madam Magician’s reward flickered across his mind:

“Reaper potion formula:

“Sequence: 5;

“Main ingredients: Gray Demonic Wolf’s front claws, Forest Hunter’s tongue;

“Supplementary ingredients: 80 milliliters of Gray Demonic Wolf’s blood, two Forest Hunter’s fangs, 10 drops of Colorful Bearded Horned Lizard venom, and 10 drops of hornbeam essential oil;

“Ritual: Plan and execute a successful capture of a target with a Sequence higher than your own. Flaunt the completed conspiracy before them, and consume the potion as they witness your victory, filled with fear and despair.

“Note 1: The increased number and higher Sequence the captured targets and the greater their fear, regret, and anger, the more potent the ritual’s effect.

“Note 2: The two main ingredients can be substituted with Gardner Martin’s Beyonder characteristic. His blood and two teeth can also replace the Gray Demonic Wolf’s blood and Forest Hunter’s fangs, respectively.

In other words, Lumian only had one sole missing ingredient: the venom of the Colorful Bearded Horned Lizard. This ingredient hinted at a rare creature. Fortunately, hornbeam essential oil, a common ingredient among mysticism enthusiasts, was already in his possession before he left Trier.

“Alright.” Batna Comté didn’t reject Lumian’s invitation.

The two walked towards a side street off the square, where a bustling open- air market unfolded.

Towering piles of fruits lined the roadside, while stalls brimmed with Golden Leaves straw hats, juicy sugarcane, sweet scones, savory roasted meat, native cigarettes, and fried banana slices. Brownish-black Islanders, foreign sailors, curious tourists, and seasoned adventurers mingled around barbecue stalls, sharing drinks and laughter.

Two nearby bars, their doors flung open, offered round tables spilling onto the sidewalk, inviting passersby to linger and enjoy a drink.

Batna surveyed the lively scene and cautioned Lumian, “Seems like this is your first visit to the archipelago. Remember, never trust an Islander.

“Their outward deference and meekness mask their true intentions. They dream of swindling our money and selling us for a hefty price. If you lack the strength and intelligence to put them in their place, their evil thoughts will surely be put into action.”

Lumian met Batna’s gaze and chuckled.

“Did they take advantage of you when you first arrived?”

Batna fell silent, avoiding the question.
Lumian didn’t press further. He spent two licks for a small bag of freshly fried banana slices. The crisp exterior gave way to a soft, sweet interior, bursting with flavor.

As he chewed, Batna muttered, “Those are just for children and women.”

How could a grown man, determined to follow in Gehrman Sparrow’s great footsteps, be indulging in fried banana slices?

In theory, at least, I’m still a minor… Lumian mentally dismissed the matter. As they continued through the market, he turned to Batna and asked, “Do pirates often enter Port Farim in disguise?”

“Yes, frequently,” Batna replied without hesitation. “But hunting them here is hardly worth the trouble.”

“Why not?” Lumian raised an eyebrow. “It would be easier to collect the bounty on their heads.”

Batna chuckled and lowered his voice.

“Port Farim’s officials tacitly allow pirates to come here, selling their plundered goods and buying supplies and pleasures in return.

“The pirate trade is a major economic force in Port Farim. Many, including the governor, the local fleet commander, and the garrison head, have amassed wealth through it.”

“As long as the pirates keep a low profile, going after them in Farim is like challenging the local power players. If that happens, you and the pirates risk getting caught, but the pirates might find a way to ‘jailbreak.'”

“Does Trier not have any objections?” Lumian asked, amused.

Outside Trier, people often referred to the Intis government as Trier.

“Who knows? Maybe those who know about the pirate trade are swimming in wealth from corruption. If they don’t, they won’t bother figuring it out,” Batna chuckled. “Either way, pirates are pretty chill in Port Farim and prefer avoiding trouble.”

“Is that so…” Lumian pondered for a moment and said, “If a pirate attacks me, don’t I have the right to defend myself?”

“Yes, but why would they initiate an attack on you?” Batna could sense this guy was trying to provoke the pirates.

“Perhaps they think I’m an easy target?” Lumian replied as he and Batna Comté turned to a nearby bar.

They entered it, choosing to sit inside instead of on the street.

It was equally lively inside, with a mixed-race woman dancing provocatively on the wooden stage at the hall’s center. Her moves synchronized with the music, frequently lifting her legs and following the rhythm. Gradually, she shed her jacket and various layers, revealing ample areas of healthy skin and gentle curves.

As she placed her hand on her undergarment, the surrounding patrons responded with whistles and loud cheers, the atmosphere reaching its climax.

“How about this? In some ways, isn’t Farim more open-minded than Trier? Not only can you see it, but you can also take it away with a sum of money,” Batna remarked with a smile.

Lumian raised his right hand and declared, “This only means that Farim is far enough from the reach of both the Churches and the Trier Avenue du Boulevard.”

“What do you mean?” Batna was momentarily taken aback.

Lumian adopted a pious tone, mimicking a devout believer in the Eternal Blazing Sun. “It’s too far from justice to be bound by the law!”

Seeing Batna’s expression freeze, Lumian smiled again.

“Just kidding! Out at sea, who cares about the law? Might makes right!”

Batna chuckled, relieved. “For a second there, I thought you were about to purify the place in the name of God.”

Taking their seats, they ordered the Fog Sea Archipelago’s famous sugar liquor, Golden Somme.

Eight licks per glass was much cheaper than a Trier.

As the caramel-sweet liquor warmed his throat, Lumian launched into an enthusiastic conversation about Gehrman Sparrow, acting like a devoted follower. He chatted with Batna and even the bartender, drawing them into his passionate discourse.

After a while, Lumian finished his Golden Somme and stood up, drawn towards the central wooden platform where a new stripper had taken the stage.

Batna watched with a knowing smile. He assumed the lad couldn’t resist the allure.

Lumian approached the platform, grabbed two patrons who were blocking his way, and effortlessly tossed them aside. With a powerful push against the platform’s edge, he leaped onto the stage.

Under everyone’s bewildered gaze, Lumian drew his revolver, aimed it at the bar’s ceiling, and fired.

Bang!

Dust rained down, startling the stripper into a crouch. Patrons panicked, scrambling for cover. Some stood frozen in shock, others glared indignantly or frowned, and a few even sported expectant grins.

What is he thinking? What is he doing? Batna was dumbfounded.

Lumian blew on the revolver’s muzzle and flashed a grin at the patrons.

“Everyone, may I have your attention. I have something to ask you.”