A strange silence hung over the castle study.
The steward glanced at his master's face—suddenly pale as paper—and thought back to certain recent events. His expression shifted subtly.
"My lord?"
The soft call snapped Baron Carter back to himself. He gave a hurried grunt, reached out with a trembling hand to take the document, and muttered as if to cover, "I'm just a little tired. You may go."
"Yes, sir."
When the steward left, descending the stairs, the dark-brown chamber was left with only the baron.
This slightly overweight middle-aged man looked as though he were suffocating. His face flushed red, and the paper in his hand felt scalding hot, stirring an urge to throw it away.
But at last, he restrained himself. After several seconds of silence, he dragged heavy steps to the windowed desk and shoved open the panes.
Though spring had come, winter's chill lingered. The morning wind rushed in, cold and sharp, clearing his tangled thoughts just a little.
Dragging the heavy wooden chair over, he sat slowly and unfolded the Church's letter. His nerves were so taut he failed to notice the slight tear in the seal.
The text was brief, formal, and to the point.
In short: the local lord—Baron Carter—was ordered to cooperate with the Church knights in hunting heretical wizards rumored to be hiding in Oakwood Town.
"…As I feared."
Hands trembling, he set the thin, cold page aside, leaning back with pained eyes shut.
It was exactly as he had guessed. The Church had indeed come knocking.
Not surprising. In truth, from the moment the Inquisition decree was issued at Church headquarters, he had vaguely anticipated this day.
He did not know exactly when the change had begun.
In his memory, the kingdom had been peaceful—until a year ago, when the Church suddenly proclaimed it had received an oracle from the Creator.
The oracle's details were vague, but its message was clear: the Devil stirred once more in darkness, and the wizards across the continent had already become its hidden servants.
To save humanity from corruption, the Church and the King together signed the "Inquisition Decree."
Then the Church's temple knights—wielding extraordinary powers—were unleashed across the land with royal sanction, hunting down wizards in droves.
It all happened suddenly, without the slightest warning.
The wizards, scattered and unorganized, were caught utterly unprepared. None could withstand the tide of knights. The purge began in the capital, then spread rapidly through the kingdom.
Poor communication sealed their doom. By the time many wizards heard the news, the hunters were already at their doors. Within a single year, countless were captured and killed.
Their kin and households shared their fate, suffering unspeakable horrors.
Meanwhile, some nobles colluded with the Church, using the oracle as an excuse to destroy rivals. The result was a reign of terror.
The entire kingdom was smothered in a white shroud of fear.
Those who survived fled—wandering homeless, forever hiding from the knights. The flames of persecution spread from the glorious capital to the remotest corners of the realm.
When news first reached him, Carter had written at once to his younger brother, himself a wizard, warning him to hide with his family. But scarcely had the letter gone out when grim tidings returned:
His brother, along with his wife, was slain while shielding their children—both budding wizards—from pursuit. The children vanished without a trace.
The message had come too late.
And yet, a small miracle: just recently, his missing niece and nephew had stumbled to Oakwood Town, half-dead with hunger and injury, seeking refuge in his castle.
Shaken and overjoyed, Carter hid them deep in the back residence, within a secret chamber. He personally brought them food each day, ensuring no servant saw them.
His plan was simple: hide them until the storm passed, then smuggle them safely to the southern continent.
But fate had other designs. Just yesterday, a company of temple knights had arrived in town with captured heretics, declaring they hunted a pair of wizards.
Carter had not slept a wink since. How much did they know? Would the knights storm his castle by nightfall, hanging him for sheltering heretics?
And now, this morning, came the Church's letter.
At least, it seemed the hunters had not yet connected the fugitives to him. That small mercy gave Carter some breath of relief.
But fear gnawed at him. What if they discovered the truth?
His heart pounded. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead. He shivered uncontrollably, pacing back and forth, face shifting with turmoil.
At last, he clenched his teeth and made a decision.
He would not risk the gallows.
But nor could he betray his brother's children.
Instead, he would spirit them away—into the nearby Pale Mountains, hiding them until the knights moved on. Then he could bring them back.
"Yes… that's the way. Quickly, quietly. If they're found…"
Muttering half-coherently, the aging baron hurried downstairs, through the garden, into the back residence.
He had dismissed the household staff from this wing. Glancing warily about, he strode to a storeroom door, pulled a key from his breast, and reached for the lock—
—and froze as though struck by lightning.
The heavy wooden door stood ajar. Its metal latch had been torn clean off, twisted by some overwhelming force.
"No… Morey! Karina!"
With a cry, Baron Carter ripped his dagger free and shoved the door open.
Inside, the young siblings lay unconscious on the floor.
And in the corner sat a stranger. A man in bizarre garb, casually thumbing through a book.
"You… you're with the Church…"
The baron's body shook. The room spun. The dagger nearly slipped from his hand.
Who else could it be? Only Church hunters could invade his castle unseen and capture the wizard children!
Yet this man's clothing, his face—oddly unfamiliar.
"Shh. Don't shout. If others come running, I won't be responsible."
Lin Tuo calmly closed the book and looked up at the trembling noble. With a faint smile, he spoke in the newly-learned local tongue.
He tapped his temple with a thoughtful air.
"The Church? You mean those armored fellows in the chapel at town center? Sorry, I don't know them."
"You… don't know them?"
Carter blinked, dumbstruck.
Lin Tuo sighed, set aside the knight's novel, and gestured at a chair.
"Sit down. No need for such nerves. I mean no harm."
The baron's eyes welled as he glanced at the siblings on the ground. No harm?
"Ahem. That was an accident," Lin Tuo said, coughing awkwardly. "I only meant to ask them a few questions. Youngsters—too excitable. They attacked, so I had to knock them out.
But asking you works just as well. You'll cooperate, won't you?"
He spoke mildly, but as he did, he snapped off the corner of the solid oak table with his bare hand. Carter's eyelids twitched violently.
With a clatter, the dagger fell from his grip. He gave a bitter smile.
"…What do you wish to ask?"
Lin Tuo's answer was strange:
"Everything."
…
…
Half an hour later, Lin Tuo had gathered the answers he sought, forming a rough understanding of the era.
And he learned at last that the unconscious siblings were indeed "wizards."
He had only come because he'd spotted two unusually strong ether threads rising above the castle.
But when they lashed out at his sudden appearance, he had no choice but to subdue them.
Questioning the small-town lord had proved far smoother.
According to Carter, this world was much like a medieval age: nobles, commoners, and slaves existed alongside the extraordinary.
Wizards, knights, and Church clerics all wielded powers beyond the ordinary.
The differences were subtle but clear.
Knights and clerics drew strength through cultivation—absorbing "mana" from nature, then shaping it into supernatural feats through martial skills or divine arts.
Wizards also cultivated, but theirs was different: they were often born with strange, unique gifts. Training merely strengthened their bodies and magnified these inborn talents; they rarely relied on learned spells.
Of course, the boundaries between the three paths blurred.
Which fit Lin Tuo's theory well.
"So the wizards are descendants of the mutated evolvers, bloodlines carrying special powers.
Knights and clerics, meanwhile, are ordinary people with talent for cultivation.
And as for 'martial skills,' 'divine arts,' and 'spells'—different names, same essence: abilities painstakingly studied and systematized over generations."
As for the so-called "mana," it was simply this era's word for "ether."
End of Chapter.