The unpleasant scrutiny finally looked away from Nemo, who thought he might have avoided it—the noise in the restaurant finally silenced his frantic heartbeat. Nemo let go, and the hem of his robe was wrinkled in his grip. Now that the crisis has passed, he hesitated for a few seconds, carefully raised the cup in front of him, and adjusted his posture by drinking.
Then listen generously.
The only thing Nemo felt a little confident about was the amount. However, he is very picky about reading books, and he does not read any professional books that are too biased or vague information about demons. But he's always been interested in things like historical biographies to pass the time.
He knows very well - on this continent, there is no country or race without faith. Atheists are as rare as the higher-level demons that infiltrate the surface.
Elves have their forest god Celestine, dwarves love Mansfield, and even dragons have their own dragon god Demetrius—to name a few. In fact, there are often multiple religions within each race. The most typical example is human beings, and Radism has an absolute advantage in the number of believers and the breadth of spread. But all kinds of small religions are still in existence, and new sects are emerging one after another. Except for demons, basically every intelligent creature has the opportunity to come into contact with more than three missionaries from different religions.
In this environment, except in a few extremist sects, changing beliefs is not a big deal-although it may offend some people, it is not "apostate". "Apostasy" refers to a specific crime, a very serious one.
It means that the sinner not only betrayed the faith, but even betrayed everything on the surface of the earth - it is not even a crime that any believer can afford to commit, and it is only a crime that the upper echelons of the religion are found to be in collusion with the devil. If it's true, as Ann said, the apostate is the former Judge Knight Commander, then this joke is a bit too big.
Judging by the enthusiasm of the knights of judgement, that kind of thing is nothing short of ice on fire.
"To be honest, I don't know the details," said Fenrir, who shifted his target and started stabbing Oliver, who was sitting beside him, with his eyes. "Few people in the Rudd are willing to talk about this - after all, the loss of power of the Knight Commander of Judgement is a great scandal for whatever reason."
"Losing his power? Did he really lose his power? I thought it was absurd when I heard that he used his power to make deals with higher-level demons."
"I don't think so," Fenrir retorted dryly. "Do you remember the Battle of Kandal?"
"Remember."
"It is rumored that Cross has been unable to use magic since then."
"You said two years ago?!"
"That's right, but the Holy See of Garland didn't expel him immediately. You know, after all, quite a few people are counting on him to be the swordsman in the prophecy. They removed Cross from the position of the judge knight and let him be The inspector of the Heresy Inquisition, I guess he is waiting for his strength to recover."
"They are really patient." An pouted.
"And then a few months ago?... I remember when it was snowing. Cross was found to have the trade mark of the superior demon and was caught in the face - I haven't heard the news of his execution, and it is estimated that he is still alive. Imprisoned in the dungeon of the heresy."
"It's terrible." The female warrior slammed the wooden cup on the oak tabletop, and the golden liquor splashed a few drops on the tablecloth. "Hopefully he can still move."
"That's all I know." Fenrir decisively stretched out his thumb and touched the wound with Ann, the blood slowly dissipating in the air. "Why are you suddenly interested in him?"
"Because I—the biggest idiot in the world was slacking off when the newbies took on quests, and had no idea that anyone would still want to date Adrian Cross today," she replied sharply, grabbing from her plate. A chicken drumstick, munching on in spite of the image.
"... Shouldn't it be?" Compared to Ann, Fenrir's food was comparably elegant. "Who is the mission applicant?"
"Joanna Edwards," Nemo whispered.
Fenrir's hand with the fork froze for a few seconds.
"Oh," he said. "With such a big accident, it's definitely not our team's turn to preside over the test next season. The test goes well next season, lad."
"You know the applicant?" Ann spat the chicken thigh bone from her mouth into the plate, "Tell me."
"The time for questions is over." Fenrir wiped his hands with a napkin and pulled out the parchment and charcoal. "There's no need for me to answer your question—you see, I haven't got a lot of good stuff after all. Could you draw a picture first, Savage? I've got other things to do."
An rolled his eyes, grabbed the booklet with his oily hands, and rubbed the charcoal pen against the paper. Nemo leaned over—there were suspicious greasy stains on the paper, but Ann's painting was flawless. Using charcoal, she lightly sketched Pandoratel's shadowy scene, exactly as Nemo remembered it.
"Here, take it—" Ann shoved the charcoal and the booklet back into Fenrir's arms, wiping the charcoal on her fingers with a napkin. "Thank you for your generosity, bye."
Fenrir's facial muscles twitched a few times as he looked at the oil stains on the booklet. He picked up the parchment, looked at it, and nodded sternly. "Have a nice meal," he said stiffly, and quickly got up and left with the brochure.
Oliver and Nemo finally dared to pick up the cutlery. The former folded the napkins like obsessive-compulsive just now, while the latter mechanically sipped the wine in the glass—even though the glass had already been emptied by him.
"Eat it, you're scared." After Fenrir's back completely disappeared from the door, Ann turned her attention back to the food in front of her. "Troy's already paid for it, you guys should eat more—I don't understand how nervous you two are. Wright aside, Oliver, that guy can't beat you."
"But I'm wrong." Oliver raised his fork and poked the beef in front of him awkwardly. "They're some kind of law enforcement... aren't they?"
"…Listen, keeping the mind of a law-abiding citizen is not good for the mission. You heard him say, Cross in the dungeon of the Inquisition."
"So what?" Oliver stopped his knife and fork, his voice a little desperate for the first time.
"It's better to try than just give up," Ann said. "We can get him out and put him back."
Nemo's hand shook, and the potato wedges on the fork rolled onto the tablecloth. Hear what she's saying - it's as if the former Inquisition Knight Commander was as good as a kitten, and the dungeons of the Inquisition can be visited with a ticket.
"I... I think," Nemo groaned, biting his fork, "it's not going to work, just wait another three months, and we can go to the next—"
"I ask for a hundred gold coins for the second place," the female warrior gave him a sideways look, "and you—especially you, have definitely been targeted. To be honest, I won't even host the Judgement Knights next time. Accident."
Nimogabeng bit off the tips of his forks, and he spat them out of his mouth in shock.
"But..." Oliver seemed to be going to struggle a little more.
"Let's take a look first, okay?" the female warrior reluctantly reassured, "It's not as crazy as you think—if Cross can't use magic, he'll have to just follow us, unless he's a rare Masochist. As for the dungeons... If they don't change their habits, then we have a chance. Wright must go to Hiram anyway, just to gather intelligence along the way - if it's really bad, no one wants to talk to Rad The teaching is open and fair, don't worry."
The food tasted good, but the meal made the two of them feel heavier. Ann maintained her habit of being absent-minded and separated from the two of them in front of the restaurant—and still did not explain where she was going, just told the two to walk around casually, and meet back at the hotel after the sun went down.
"Your information has been recorded in the guild. Wear your black badge and feel at ease. No bounty hunters will move you now." She even threw them a small bag of coins, as if she was coaxing a 13- or 14-year-old boy.
Carrying the purse, Nemo stood by the street with Oliver, not knowing where to go for a while.
"Otherwise." Oliver probably felt that it was not a good idea to act as a sculpture on the street for a long time, and he was the first to speak. "It's not far anyway... Let's go to the Dawning Tavern to see?"
Nemo turned his head slowly. "Can we not go in?" he said bitterly, stuffing the stuffed grey parrot into his backpack. "Just take a look outside, how about it?" He was really at a loss.
As a result, the Dawning Tavern was much more normal than he had imagined. Compared with the decoration of the tavern, the way the two of them were sneaking around on the street during the daytime was more suspicious. But they've been taught a lot, and they've learned the truth that curiosity kills cats—the two circled the tavern, agreeing that it's better to go to the market and buy some Noët speciality.
Nemo straightened the collar of his robe, turned around, and nearly ran into the man standing behind him—
The tall man was just a step away from the two, watching them quietly. His long gray hair fell softly over his shoulders, and his iris was a pure orange red—a very rare eye color. The man's clothes are neat, every button is where it should be, and it looks like a waiter's dress.
"Sorry, I thought you two were guests." He smiled slightly, "How about you, why don't you go in and sit?"
Nemo was stunned.
"... No, thank you." Seeing that Nemo didn't speak, Oliver hurriedly laughed a few times, dragging Nemo in a daze and hurriedly left from the street where the tavern was located. He circled into the crowded small market and stopped by the sign of a bakery.
"Have you seen him?" He released his grip on Nemo's arm.
"No," Nemo said slowly. "Uh, how do I put it... it might sound a little..."
It wasn't that he didn't want to tell Oliver, but he didn't know how to describe the feeling at all. Nemo was pretty sure it wasn't a negative emotion, but couldn't find any suitable positive description either. He knew that he had never seen that man before, but at that moment, some small emotion suddenly swelled and exploded - if he had to use a word to describe it, the emotion was barely close to "relief".
The emotion was not that strong, and the troubles he had because of it were even more.
"Maybe it's a connection between demon believers or demon warlocks." Nemo found an excuse for himself, "It must be. Those eyes... they don't look like human eyes."
For some reason, he didn't hate them.
,Wonderful!
(m.. = )