A new day had arrived, bringing with it a new job and a new life. Yet Old Dunling remained unchanged, just as familiar as ever. The fine drizzle continued to fall endlessly, and no one knew when it would finally come to an end.
Lloyd boarded the carriage, and only then did he realize that old Oscar was actually quite a sturdy man. Perhaps his loose clothing had concealed it all this time, but the old fellow was broad-shouldered and thickset beneath the fabric.
The cramped carriage barely had enough room for three people. Lloyd sat beside the carriage door, one hand resting lightly on the armrest.
"So you intend to go there yourself? It could be dangerous," Oscar asked.
Lloyd's reaction was strange. Oscar had never expected him to show such interest in that man, Xelmans. Yet Lloyd seemed to have no intention of explaining himself. From the moment he stepped into the carriage, he had remained silent.
"When I leave, keep the carriage moving. The longer it continues, the better."
Lloyd suddenly spoke. Immediately afterward, he pushed the carriage door open slightly, as if he would leap out the very next second.
By then, the carriage had entered the bustling streets. Although rain still poured down, the colorful umbrellas and countless carriages crowded the roads, flowing like a restless river. This was precisely why Lloyd had chosen this place. Only here could he shake off those who might be watching him. He did not know whether they were still keeping an eye on him, but caution was never a mistake.
Half of his body had already leaned outside, like a hunting leopard waiting for the perfect moment to strike. But just before he jumped, Lloyd suddenly turned his head and looked toward Cely, who sat in the innermost corner.
"He isn't a good man. At most, you can only believe half of what he says."
Those words were meant for Cely. The young girl looked confused, unable to understand why Lloyd had suddenly said such a thing. Meanwhile, Oscar beside her gave an awkward smile.
Under normal circumstances, Lloyd would never have let Oscar off so easily. But these were unusual times. Before Cely could ask anything further, Lloyd slipped out between two passing carriages.
He lowered his head as much as possible, moving forward beneath countless blooming umbrellas before disappearing into the winding alleys, attempting to shake off any potential pursuers.
...
Old Dunling, outskirts.
Xelmans sat upon a chair, breathing in the fresh air after the rain. The cool breeze carried the fragrance of grass, and beneath the soil, countless signs of life stirred.
He had never liked Inverig. As a devout believer, his only true home had always been the Seven Hills. Yet, strangely enough, on this rainy day, this quiet and refreshing atmosphere captured his heart. For once, he had found a place outside his homeland where he could feel at ease.
Although this place was still part of Old Dunling, its location in the distant outskirts meant there was no steel, no steam, no endless mechanical noises. Everything here seemed untouched, as if it had remained exactly as it was a century ago, without the slightest trace of the "modern age."
The sky no longer felt oppressive. Golden light seeped through the silver-gray clouds, and the emerald grass stretched endlessly toward the horizon. If he were not already so old, Xelmans would have loved nothing more than to mount a fine steed and gallop freely across this land.
"Ah… this feels wonderful."
He took a deep breath.
The life of exile, the negotiations with the Purification Agency… too many burdens had worn away at his will, pressing down upon his spirit. Yet here, in this remote corner of the world, he had finally found a brief moment of peace.
After reaching an initial agreement with the Purification Agency, Xelmans had been moved here. To demonstrate mutual sincerity, he cooperated with their arrangements, while the Purification Agency allowed him to bring his own guards. Aside from a small number of observers, this place was entirely controlled by the exiled faction.
"Lord Xelmans…"
A servant approached from the side and placed a coat over Xelmans' shoulders.
The cold of Old Dunling was deep and unforgiving. Even at the beginning of spring, it remained just as bitter.
"Yage… your leg seems much better now."
Xelmans glanced at him. During their previous investigation into information regarding the Book of Revelation, he had learned that Yage had fought Lloyd inside the Rat Nest. As an ordinary man, he had stood no chance against a demon hunter. Lloyd's sword had cut through his ankle, and if Duke Salicado's carriage had not rescued him, he would have likely died beneath Lloyd's blade.
"It's manageable. Though in this weather, it still aches from time to time."
Yage leaned on his cane, his appearance somewhat miserable.
This was an abandoned manor that had remained empty for many years. After a brief restoration, it became Xelmans' current residence. It was far away from the chaotic vortex of Old Dunling, yet still under the watchful eyes of the Purification Agency. And, surprisingly, Xelmans had grown rather fond of this place.
"I never imagined a foreign land would look like this. This is your first time coming to Inverig as well, isn't it, Yage?"
Before the schism and exile, Yage had already served as his attendant. After the new pope's coronation, countless events had unfolded. The opposing cardinals, including Xelmans, had suffered a devastating defeat, and what little they could carry away from Florence was pitifully small.
Yage was deeply loyal to Xelmans. He was one of the few who chose to leave Florence alongside him, and because of this, he earned Xelmans' complete trust.
"Yes. This place is completely different from what I once imagined."
"Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?"
"I…I don't know how to describe it. It feels as if all the good and bad things have been magnified. This place is advanced and full of vitality, yet the sky feels like an iron curtain, heavy and cold. Every hardship and every joy has been amplified."
"That is true. But this is also what people pursue. Greater greed always brings greater suffering. They say the owner of this manor was once such a person. As the age progressed, clinging to the wealth of these lands would only cause him to be abandoned by the times. So he sold this place, took his money and ambitions, and went to Old Dunling."
Xelmans walked slowly across the soft grass, leaving shallow footprints behind him. He deliberately slowed his pace so that Yage, relying on his cane, could keep up.
"But it seems he failed. Otherwise, he would have returned here long ago."
Xelmans spoke with a hint of regret.
No one truly wished to leave their homeland. Or perhaps, once they left, they could never truly return.
He was the same.
Miguel had once described him this way: Xelmans was the least ambitious of all the cardinals. All he wanted was to remain within that sacred church until the end of his life. If he could be buried beside generations of popes, that would be even better.
Xelmans rarely argued against such criticism. He had never revealed his true thoughts to anyone.
After all, what were cardinals, if not believers who happened to possess power?
So what was wrong with a believer remaining faithful until death?
He could not understand it. Nor could he understand why power was so alluring that it allowed Miguel to continue opposing the new pope even after all these years.
They were people driven by different reasons, yet they happened to share the same enemy. That was enough to unite them.
"Have the people from the Purification Agency still not left?"
Xelmans suddenly asked softly.
Yage pretended as if nothing unusual had happened and replied quietly.
"They only left a few people behind, claiming they were here to assist us in contacting headquarters. But it is also another form of surveillance. Still, they have indeed given us a great deal of freedom… at least on the surface."
"We cannot completely trust the Purification Agency."
Xelmans tightened his coat and continued walking.
"We still do not know what promises the delegation from Florence has brought. Perhaps tomorrow, the Purification Agency will hand us over to the new pope for some greater benefit."
The old man's expression darkened. Although he was a devout believer, that did not mean his mind was filled with nothing but faith.
The Gospel Church was a complicated organization. It used the so-called divine will to unite humanity. Some people were sincere believers, while others were merely puppets of power. Everyone carried their own intentions. Without caution and awareness, Xelmans would never have risen to the position of cardinal.
"They would really do that?"
Yage looked unable to believe it.
"Never underestimate the power of interest. If not for that, how could the Holy Knights have betrayed us? How could Anthony have turned against us? We do not know exactly what the new pope promised them, but whatever it was, it moved them. Because of it, they now regard us as heretics and continue hunting us even after all this time."
"I only hope Miguel will not disappoint me."
Xelmans sighed. He turned his head toward Yage, his cloudy eyes carrying a trace of sorrow.
Yage might have been slow to understand things, but a feeling he had carried for a long time had already told him the truth. After hesitating for a moment, he finally asked:
"Actually… we have been abandoned, haven't we?"
It was a question that challenged everything before them. Yet Yage could not stop himself from asking.
They had hidden themselves well, yet suddenly they were cooperating with the Purification Agency. It was too sudden. Too abnormal.
"What Miguel needs is an army capable of returning to the Seven Hills, not an old believer who is already close to death. We have long since become useless to him."
Xelmans understood his own position clearly. In truth, he had never wanted things to end this way, but he had already reached the end of the road.
The new pope would never forgive him. Miguel was his only hope.
It was an impossible choice, like a drowning man reaching for a thorny branch. Even if the thorns pierced his hands and filled them with blood, he would still cling to it desperately.
"And the only use this old man has left is to test the waters. That is why we were the ones sent to negotiate with the Purification Agency. This is merely an experiment. Even if we die, it will not affect Miguel's plan."
Yage's expression became grim.
These were secrets he should never have known. If such information leaked out, their faction might collapse before the Purification Agency ever made a move.
Yet Xelmans still told him.
For the first time, Yage felt that being trusted was not necessarily a good thing.
If he had never learned these truths, perhaps he would still be immersed in the joy of hope instead of being consumed by sudden anxiety.
"What should we do?" Yage asked.
"What should we do?"
Xelmans seemed completely indifferent.
"We simply maintain the current situation."
His gaze moved toward the other side. There was the horse field, where several white horses enjoyed the fresh grass. Looking at his expression, it almost seemed as though he wished to ride one of them and gallop away.
"Are you… truly fine with this?"
Yage could not understand how Xelmans could accept everything so calmly.
Miguel was using his life as a test.
"What else can we do?"
The old man suddenly laughed in a strange manner. For a moment, Yage could not understand his intentions at all.
"We have been enemies of Inverig for decades, even centuries. The Gospel Church used the power of the demon hunters to threaten countless nations. Everyone longed to escape our control. And now Inverig has succeeded. The Purification Agency has finally entered our sight…"
"Do you really think they will help us?"
"In the end, their assistance is only because they wish to oppose the new pope. They will not destroy the Gospel Church. They will only drag it into eternal chaos, ensuring it can never threaten them again."
Xelmans had lived for a very long time.
Long enough that he belonged to the same era as Cardinal Medici and had witnessed the fall of that magnificent golden age.
Though he was merely a faithful believer, he still understood something of schemes and conspiracies.
"No one will truly help us except Miguel… though he only wants to become pope. But at least his goal overlaps with mine to some extent. We are walking the same road. If not him, then who else can we trust?"
Xelmans' tone suddenly became sharp, and beneath his aged body burned a fierce anger.
Yage did not know how to respond.
The wind after the rain had grown colder, causing him to shiver involuntarily.
"Ah… perhaps this is simply how life is."
The old man suddenly weakened again. Beneath his aged face, his deeply sunken eyes seemed even more hollow.
"I no longer seek anything greater. I only wish to die peacefully."
He reached into his coat and pulled out a finely crafted flintlock pistol.
It was almost a work of art.
The dark reddish wood was decorated with golden patterns, while holy scriptures were engraved upon the brass-colored barrel. It seemed to have endured the passage of countless years. Although Xelmans had maintained it carefully, the marks of age and decay were still visible.
The old man's eyes filled with nostalgia as he gently touched it, as if he could recall the glory of the golden age through the weapon alone.
"Truthfully, I am just an old stubborn fool. I have always rejected new things. Those modern pistols are obviously far more practical, yet I simply cannot let this one go. Abandoning it would mean abandoning my past as well."
Its accuracy was poor. Reloading was troublesome.
As a weapon, it had long since become a ridiculous antique, something displayed behind glass as a piece of art.
But long ago, it had once dominated battlefields.
And Xelmans had used it to execute countless heretics.
Yet now he was old.
Because of his age, even his dried hands trembled when reloading.
Like him, the weapon had also been discarded by the era.
Xelmans looked deeply at the horses still grazing peacefully.
After a long moment of silence, he slowly turned away and walked back toward the manor.
This time, he did not wait for Yage.
Yage struggled forward with his cane, desperately trying to follow.
From the distance came the whistle of a train.
Railways covered every corner of Inverig's territory, like a spider's web wrapped around the land. Heavy steam poured from the turning machinery, and a man stood atop the train, looking toward the manor at the edge of the emerald fields.
Moisture still lingered in the air, striking Lloyd's face with a cold touch that sharpened his senses.
Then, he leapt down.
The wind lifted his coat, revealing the guns and sword hidden beneath.