Inside Alvis's residence, the six Iron Guards turned deathly pale the moment Paul and the others vanished.
They rubbed their eyes repeatedly, but their self-discipline forced them to admit that Lord Paul Greiman, his men, and the witch who had launched the attack had indeed vanished without a trace.
The head guard grabbed a shard of ice crystal that remained on the ground—it was still wreathed in an ominous power.
"Split up!" he ordered in a hoarse voice. "Four of you stay behind to secure the area, you..." He pointed to one of his team members, "...immediately return to Lords Manor with me to report!"
The sound of horses' hooves ripped through the night like thunder. Old Ford, who had just finished dinner, received an urgent message and rushed over. He quickly entered the gates of Lords Manor, and then he heard even more hurried footsteps behind him. Steward Ford turned around and saw the Chief of Staff Schroeder.
Before they could even greet each other, they exchanged a glance and walked side by side into the hall, where two other people were already waiting for them.
The lord's Captain of the Guards, Victor, paced anxiously, while his steward, Philip, prayed with his eyes closed.
"Master Steward, Chief of Staff, you two have finally arrived!" The tall captain of the guard looked as helpless as a child abandoned by his parents.
"What did you say?!" A minute later, the white-haired steward grabbed the head guard by the collar. "The Marquis... and his wife were assassinated? What do you mean by 'disappeared'?"
"He just vanished, disappeared right in front of six people, vanished into thin air!" Victor gestured futilely in the air with his hands, repeating the incredible information the guards had reported to him.
Chief of Staff Schroeder frowned and asked, "Are these six people reliable?"
Victor nodded vigorously. "The people who protect Lord Glaeman have been selected through rigorous tests, and their loyalty is absolutely reliable."
Old Ford looked at the butler: " Philip."
The butler stiffened. "Please give your orders, Master Steward."
"Prepare a small room for us, and don't let anyone near it."
In the dimly lit hall, four figures were projected onto the wall by the flickering candlelight.
Old Ford placed his espresso on the oak table and said in a deep voice, "The most important thing right now is to prevent things from getting out of control."
Schroeder said with concern, "According to our intelligence, the Orc Great Chieftain Abar is leading a large army of Nerodan Corridor, and it just so happens to be at this time."
The head of the Political Affairs Council looked at him: "I have an idea. What do you think? We could use the pretext of unusual activity by the orc army—of course, this is still directed at the army's internal staff—to order all units to go on high alert."
He looked up at the crowd. "Set up more patrols in various locations, so we can legitimately mobilize troops to search for the lord and his wife. Perhaps... they were magically teleported nearby?"
The people present were all familiar with magic.
"There's no time to lose!" Chief of Staff Schroder immediately grabbed a quill pen and drafted a military order on paper. "I'll try to send out the official order before dawn."
Philip, the butler, tapped the table lightly with his fingertip. " Should the academic conference at Weiss Academy still proceed?"
"The academic conference must proceed as scheduled!"
The Director-General of the Political Affairs Council stated firmly, "To avoid unnecessary speculation. However..." He paused, "we need to send more reliable personnel to secretly monitor the proceedings. Also..."
He looked at the head guard, "Those people present..."
Captain Victor gripped his sword and pursed his lips as he said, "The six eyewitness guards have been confined to Lords Manor, and Mr. Alvis has agreed to cooperate with us after waking up."
Old Ford continued, " Cecil needs to send men to monitor any unusual activity in the city, paying particular attention to suspicious individuals who have recently inquired about the lord's whereabouts. I have a feeling that the conspirators behind this, namely the Arcane Society, will not let this go unpunished. Wait, could the lord's disappearance have been deliberately orchestrated by assassins?"
From Alvis's account, they already knew who had sent the assassins tonight.
Arcane Society and Gabella Empire, two powerful forces merged into one.
Victor shook his head. "I asked, but the guards said it didn't seem like it. Besides, the assassin's target was Alvis; it's unlikely they would abandon Alvis to target the Marquis and his men with magic. It's more like what Miss La Di did—trying to escape to a safe place?"
Schroeder reminded him, "If it was Miss La Di who cast the spell to avoid danger, why did the assassin also disappear?"
He slammed his fist on the table: "Damn it, this matter is related to magic, and our only person here who knows magic, Miss La Di, has disappeared along with Marquis."
His words reminded Old Ford.
"By the way, that Derson Plante, he's also a mage."
Captain of the Guards Victor frowned. "You want to consult him on this matter? I don't think the mage's loyalty to Alda can be fully guaranteed."
"You can describe it in a different way."
...
As the sun rose, the scholars staying in various parts of Lakeheart Town headed to Weiss Academy, and everything seemed normal.
Inside the Weiss Academy auditorium, the venue for the meeting, a meeting host who was somewhat unfamiliar to the audience—who looked like a teacher from the academy—gently tapped the brass bell on the podium. After the hall gradually quieted down, he bowed slightly apologetically to the assembled scholars.
"Distinguished guests," the host adjusted his half-moon shaped glasses, his voice steady yet tinged with a hint of awkwardness, "we have just received news that Lord Glaeman is temporarily unable to attend the meetings for the next few days due to urgent political matters."
A murmur immediately broke out in the room, and several out-of-town scholars exchanged puzzled glances—everyone knew the lord's enthusiasm for the Science conference.
The host's fingers unconsciously traced the agenda: "His Lord specifically instructed that you should not be swayed by this and should continue to delve deeper into these world-changing discoveries."
He forced a smile. "As he always said, truth never fades because of someone's absence."
The academic conference continued as scheduled.
Father Anderson stood on the podium, sunlight filtering through the stained glass and casting dappled patterns of light on his grey robe.
The thin priest carefully opened a linen bag and poured out dozens of peas of various colors onto the velvet.
"Look at these creations of our Heavenly Father," his voice trembled slightly with excitement, "In the past few years, I have planted tens of thousands of pea plants in the monastery's vegetable garden."
A collective gasp of surprise rose from the students below the podium. Anderson parted a few peas with his fingers: "When purple and white flowers crossbreed, the first generation is all purple, but the second generation—"
He suddenly lifted the black cloth covering the podium, revealing dozens of ceramic pots filled with purple and white pea flowers arranged in precise mathematical proportions.
"The second generation showed a pattern of three purple plants against one white plant!"
The priest's eyes gleamed with the fervor of discovering the truth.
"This proves that heredity is not a chaotic mixture, but follows some kind of divine mathematical law!"