Lord of Mysteries: Cuttlefish Connoisseurs

The nightlife in Matani state remained busy, occasionally animated with a number of festivals, where specific and trained natives danced to various rituals typically involving Death. While the belief in Death had faded with the fall of the Balam empire, the heavy influence in the rich culture and traditions throughout the various settlements on the Southern continent remained.

For this, unlike other colonial regions like the Rorsted Archipelago, most cities and towns in the Southern continent didn't feature strict curfews as they were impossible to implement due to their vibrant and deeply ingrained cultures.

Naturally, various bars, taverns, and brothels were filled with clients. In one of the many busy bars was a woman seated at a table just outside the rowdy bar filled with drunkards.

The woman wore a brown cloak, concealing most of her features as she observed her empty wooden beer cup for a moment, before turning to the sidewalk and peering at a small street performance not too far ahead.

In an instant, she deduced that the performer was making use of magnets as well as general misdirection to awe the crowd, causing her to sigh in disappointment.

This level of education isn't desirable. Erza—code named Tempest, lamented as she took out a meticulously arranged flowery white handkerchief before wiping her drenched mouth.

Having been a former colony of the Intis Republic, belief in the Church of Steam and the Eternal Blazing Sun was quite common in Matani state, and its surroundings. Due to the former, education and literacy rate was rather high, but following the war with the Feynapotter kingdom taking over, the literacy rate had naturally decreased.

Well, it's just the outskirts of the state. Tricks like that won't work in the more busy streets. As she mused, she got up, and placed her cup on a stand at the entrance of the bar, and then moved along the road.

As she did, she looked up at the dark skies, noting the half crimson moon reflecting its light. 

The past week has been quite aimless… Erza thought back to the past six days. Immediately after "transmigrating," she woke up with a buzzing and blurry mind; her emotions fluctuating at random. This had fortunately calmed down after she was pulled up for the mystical gathering.

And then I met that fiery fool… Erza recalled how she had almost broken her assumed stoic countenance once she had seen a familiar face among her fellow "transmigrators."

Marcelle—code named Ashveil.

Even without exchanging words, the two anonymously contacted each other in the real world, and Erza was currently heading to the agreed meeting place.

As she thought of the green-eyed burly man, Erza's mind couldn't help but wander back to a bit over a year ago.

As a part of the "factory" focused on innovation and development in the region, Erza had a bright future ahead of her, with their mysterious leader helping his trusted subordinates grow on the path of the Savant. Their leader believed the Church of Steam and Machinery was too stiff with their developments, and weren't open minded enough, a feeling even post "transmigration," Erza greatly resonated with.

Even while being a sequence 0, "He" still needed the assistance of a mortal in order to digest "His" sequence 1 potion… If Roselle was at the top of the pathway, I firmly believe the world's technology would have been at modern standards already, free from all the useless pollution and profit obsessed corporates. 

Erza didn't care if she harboured blasphemous thoughts as she wasn't and will never be a believer of Steam!

And this was a feeling all her fellow "factory" members felt, reinforcing their bond. However, they could only lie low as the Church of Steam was always after their leader, which Erza now suspects wielded a high-level artefact of the Paragon pathway.

However, the war, especially towards its end point, gave an opportunity for their little factory to grow by leaps and bounds, and eventually they worked to rebuild the State and its surrounding regions following the war by making a number of beneficial infrastructural structures, including but not limited to schools. But this rapid rise was eyed and eventually halted by an enemy.

Mental plague… That's what killed me… Erza impassively remarked as she walked down alleyways, sometimes circling around to ensure she wasn't being tracked. 

After her "Appraisal" of the environment confirmed no one was tailing her, she continued on her way.

The Mental Plague killed the others too, while the leader, or at least the artefact he had, was stolen. The enemy was possibly a Manipulator, which will also explain how that fiery fool—Ashveil and his allies, all working under that Manipulator, could develop so rapidly.

Erza occasionally worked as an information broker, part time from her real job as a professor, meeting with various other "factories" as well as rebels. Through this, she was quite familiar with the Patrol team, which was formed by Admiral Querarill of the Feynapotter kingdom as well as most underground forces or "factories" in Matani state and its surroundings.

Naturally, her acquaintances also extended to rebels who fought against colonial rule. 

Within these rebels, a number of them stood out, with Marcelle, codenamed Ashveil, being one of the most memorable ones. 

He was likely tasked with infiltrating our "factory." But, he's a "transmigrator" like me, and therefore likely died around the same time I did. That will coincide well with the raid and attack of the enemy… And then there's the fact that many contacts say he's alive… Does that mean his backer—that Manipulator killed him? Or he simply died in the raiding process?

There has also been a rumour circulating these past few days on how Fabian, another one of Marcelle's associates and fellow rebel, has vanished… That fellow was also a Pyromaniac…

But seriously, walking plainly like that? Erza shook her head at the thought of the brazen attitude of her fellow "transmigrator." Of course, she wasn't that much better, though she did conceal her presence and mostly used her other identities to stay connected to the underground forces. 

Isn't he afraid that the Manipulator will come for him? Though, if I were to use my meta-knowledge, anyone well informed enough will know such a thorough resurrection is unique. Plus, who's to say I'm not already on the radar of that demigod of the mind, given that I too somehow lived?

All these thoughts had become recurrent to the cautious and meticulous Erza, and for that, she had decided to discreetly reestablish contact with the Patrol team, and if possible, bring the Admiral's attention to the presence of a foreign demigod in the surroundings. For this, two days ago, Erza had used her reach and arranged a meeting with the Patrol team in the nearby mining city of Devise. As for why she didn't contact the main patrol team in Matani state, that was because she was still wary of getting recognised. However, the person she met at the meeting in Devise once more broke her composure.

What are the odds I met two of them in such a short while? Erza repeated the question she had for the past two days.

The man from the Patrol team branch in Devise was none other than codenamed Rah—Castiel Castiya Tyrellor, better known as Tyr, another fellow "transmigrator" and a moderator of their gathering. This meeting had turned very awkward, with both parties restraining their shock to their best efforts in order to not cast suspicion on the two other members of the Patrol team who had accompanied Tyr—Ilyas and Heradin. 

After some casual talks and discussions of the recent development and current status of the various "factories," Tyr and Erza had made some arrangements for meetings, something which wasn't suspicious as those of the Patrol team were expected to establish relations with the various underground forces or "factories."

Two months ago when I went to Devise, it was another Patrol team branch… I guess it was changed this past week. As Erza reached this thought, her ears twitched ever so slightly as she sensed a familiar presence in the dark surroundings.

Speak of the devil… Naturally, she had also invited Tyr to the meeting with Marcelle, having discreetly informed him, who was a member of the Patriot team, about the possibility of an ambush set by the Manipulator behind the scenes.

It seems like he was here for some time. He also likely reported the presence of the Spectator demigod to the Admiral, who I also suspect is a demigod. The fact that he still dares to come might imply there's no danger… It's still risky, though.

Erza let out a deep sigh as she stopped her rapid thinking and didn't bother to greet her fellow "transmigrator," who was hiding in the surroundings. Instead, she looked up at the unassuming door before her and noticed it was slightly opened.

Maybe a trap? Knowing she was likely going to meet a Pyromaniac, Erza's eyes flickered as she appraised the surroundings, more particularly the door before her and beyond it. This ability could see through and understand the truths of things, especially when it came to mystical items and sealed artefacts.

Having confirmed the presence of Marcelle beyond the door and Tyr not far from her, Erza leisurely turned and gave a faint smirk. "Ladies first, huh? What a polite young man."

She spoke in English.

Her words caused a snicker to emanate from beyond a wall at the alleyway's entrance. However, Erza turned around and fully opened the door before her, entering the dark room. The absence of light didn't hinder her "appraising" eyes as she turned on a gas lamp at the side, and observed the tall man with a full, thick black beard and green eyes seated on a couch while looking at her with a smile.

Marcelle shook his head as he observed the opened door where Erza stood and now from which Tyr, wearing a casual white shirt and dark trousers, walked in, and closed the door.

"I guess if I already met one of us, meeting another was likely." His remark caused both parties to chuckle as Tyr's right hand emitted a gentle golden glow and he placed his palm on the closed door. Both Marcelle and Erza noticed the subtle change in the environment, as if the apartment room they were in had been completely isolated from the rest of the outside world.

It looks different from a Baron of Corruption's distortion… Confinement? Marcelle used his analytical mind and his guess was soon confirmed by Tyr. 

"That was confinement in the form of a charm issued by the admiral. With this, we don't have to fear for any 'peepers.'"

Marcelle nodded, hearing this as he looked around at the monotone but rather clean room and then spoke in Highlander with a smile. "One of my new and disposable lairs. Though it doesn't have much in it. I hope you guys ate before coming."

Both ignored his bicker as they took a seat on the armchairs facing him. After a moment of silence, Ashveil let out a sigh as he ran his fingers through his curly hair, saying, "Our situation is very interesting, so I propose I go straight to the point."

The two were quite pleased by his straightforward nature as they nodded and the man went on to explain his rebel years, how he met the Manipulator—Celia, his life from then, and finally his betrayal and death. As he described, Tempest couldn't help but notice a certain detail.

He's much more eloquent than before. Not to mention, his words often hold double meanings… Noticing he had concluded his description, she asked. "Fabian had the remaining main ingredient of a Conspirer with him?"

"It was actually that old broker, Yagras, who had it." Marcelle corrected before adding. "Being 'familiar' with how Celia operates, I knew Fabien would likely come for it, and thus, I replaced Yagras."

Erza nodded having confirmed Ashveil had advanced to a Conspirer and then turned to Rah. Ashveil also looked at him, which caused the man to nod as he reflectively fixed his fluffy and abundant brown hair, and spoke. "I reported to the Admiral about that demigod, and he wasn't surprised. He simply told me he'll take note of it."

Well, obviously he knows of her presence… Tempest inwardly commented as she heard Marcelle question. "Why would the Psychology Alchemist be involved? Is it really just for that Alchemist artefact?"

Try shook his head as he chimed in. "The Psychology Alchemist should currently be in disarray, given the Garden of Eden was recently destroyed and they lost their leader and founder. Plus, even before that, they didn't have any councilors on the Southern continent, Fog Sea, the Berserk Sea, and the Sonia Sea."

Bar Erza, who had a perfect memory, it was clear the two men used their own methods to recall the relevant information.

Silence took over for a moment before Erza broke it in a deep tone. "What about 'that' organisation?"

This caused both Tyr and Marcelle to grow tense, but they soon relaxed as they realised no danger would come to them by simply thinking about it. Only uttering the organisation's true name—the Twilight Hermit Order, or writing it down would the relevant existences be alerted.

Marcelle rubbed his beard in thought. "Indeed, I've thought of them. It'll also explain why she stole that Alchemist artefact bar for acting and digesting her potion. Maybe it was at the request of a fellow member."

"And I'm guessing that's why you're confident in her not coming for you?" Erza followed up with a question that had been in her mind since she "transmigrated."

Ashveil slowly nodded with a faint smile as he looked up at the white ceiling. "As you guys know, knowledge in this world is quite dangerous. For this, Beyonders and people in general ought to be very cautious, lest they incur a fate worse than death."

"However, the more you know, the more cautious you'll become as well." He leaned forward while interlocking his fingers and peering deeply at the duo. "Celia… Even if the personality she showed me was fake, it doesn't mean her behaviour as a demigod of the Spectator pathway can't be predicted. In fact, her being from 'that' organisation will mean she's even more informed, and hence more cautious."

"It's unlikely she isn't aware of our thorough resurrection, Tempest."

Indeed. Tempest nodded as she had reached the same conclusion. It was impossible for her to completely hide from a demigod who enjoyed controlling the development of events from behind the scenes.

She then responded with her own question. "So, you intend to rely on that assumption? What happens if she goes against all common sense and brainwashes us without our knowledge?"

Marcelle simply shrugged while answering, "Well, game over, I guess. Of course, we could also pray to The Fool and hope for a response, or even find a way to contact the Tarot Club and hope for the best."

"Or…" His voice trailed off as he turned to Rah, who let out a scoff and uttered. "Relying on the official Beyonders, huh? Typical…"

While the two men laughed at this, Erza remained impassive as she said to Tyr, "The way the admiral Querarill spoke of the Manipulator is interesting."

"You believe he's from 'that' organisation as well?" Tyr composed himself and asked, unsurprised. 

"Well, many important figures even in the official factions are part of 'that' organisation," Marcelle said as he reclined on his couch. "This operation is dangerous, and I won't blame any of you if you back out of it. I, however, will remain and face it."

He spoke in a nonchalant tone, but Tempest could feel her emotions burning from his words. The incitement of a Conspirer? She didn't mind this as she said after a brief pause. "Normally, I would've indeed run away, but I'll have to push it back until I confirm some details about our gathering."

Tyr, as one of the seven moderators, felt like he had to speak on the matter as he showed the back of his right hand. "We moderators have contacted each other through our respective heptagrams. We have some plans to visit and test a few things in that mysterious gathering spot a few hours before the gathering tomorrow."

"And I assume you won't spoil what it'll be about?" Ashveil asked with a smirk to which Rah reciprocated the gesture but didn't comment. 

Tempest then spoke, turning to the official Beyonder while nodding. "If my problems are resolved during the gathering, then I accept becoming an informant of the Patrol team." After some thoughts, she added. "Of course, that's if you're fine with helping me reopen some of the schools that my 'factory' operated before."

"I can also provide you with the necessary staff." Having already discussed her terms two days prior, Tyr added some details, causing Erza to nod with a faint smile.

Marcelle blinked as he questioned the mature Erza. "You seem to like teaching?"

"I was a professor in both lives." She replied in a lively tone, causing both men to smile as they casually discussed their own situations in both lives. Their discussion went on for a few hours before they separated and went their way.

Walking down the less lively roads, Erza brushed her brown hair with traces of grey, and then arranged her hood, covering her stern features which had relaxed due to her repeated smiles throughout the recent discussions.

The world is bleak, but does that mean children can't have the chance to be children? She felt herself smile brightly at the thought of educating people.

…

Rorsted Archipelago, the City of Generosity, Bayam.

Curfews were quite common within this city, however, following the war and them losing some foothold on the city, the Loen kingdom could strongly enforce this rule unto their colony as they did before. However, even then, this didn't stop a few from operating in the dark.

The half crimson moon could only offer a dim illumination as a man, holding a glass candle stand, walked along a well-decorated corridor. However, even without this light, his red ruby eyes could still discern every painting, sculpture and ornament that lined the walls of this expansive corridor. His sensitive nose could even tell how old each of this piece of furniture was, but that wasn't what bothered him right now.

The man soon stood before a large, opulent metallic door, causing him to let out a deep sigh, fix his slightly curly raven dark hair, and then push open the door, revealing a room faintly illuminated by the half Crimson Moon, with its red lights filtering through the high windows at the end of the room.

The room in question was well decorated, with a large piano facing the window, and in one corner of the room, a large intricately carved mahogany coffin decorated with Gothic motifs lay. Beside the coffin, on a nearby wall, was a large reflective mirror, which very clearly reflected the man holding the glass candle.

His thin frame featured a greyish coat, and overall muted colour, but elegant attire. His tanned skin deviated a bit from the darker skin tone of the natives of the Archipelago However, his two-toned but full lips and overall facial features made him easy to recognise as a native. Yet, his sharp, red eyes told a different story.

Lenor, codenamed Yellow, held his breath as he observed the lid of the coffin slid to the side as a pale, long arm made its way out, and then a delicate woman sat up straight.

Her loose beige-blonde hair flowed down her shoulders and her upper torso, which was covered in a deep dark gown. Her deep red eyes examined the environment as she didn't look at Lenor, but instead spoke in a monotone voice.

"You're finally back, Lenor."

Her voice was low, but carried a deep sense of authority that resonated deeply within Lenor. A Sanguine's suppression of their blood servant. He inwardly remarked as he went down on one knee, saying, "Your humble servant greets you, Countess Calliope."

A light chuckle devoid of any emotions escaped the Sanguine still laying in the coffin as she replied. "Why the honorifics? We are in my private milieu."

She didn't wait for him to reply as she continued, while gazing at the man's calloused hands. "I only read the letter which described the injuries that Solar High Priest artefact caused you. It seems you're doing fine now."

"Viscount Gilbert was courteous enough to make a healing potion for me. I recovered three days ago." 

However, that still killed me. Lenor left this part unsaid, as no one would believe him if he explained he actually came back from the dead. Not that he planned on humiliating himself by mentioning that his own artefact had killed him.

"Gilbert…" The Sanguine Earl seemed to be in deep thought before she asked. "Has that nephew of mine tried anything reckless this past week?"

Her question caused Lenor to pause, as if debating whether to truthfully respond. However, as a blood servant, he couldn't disobey his master's wishes, and thus didn't hold back anything.

"Following Lord Marcianus's death, the Viscount was struck with grief and sought immediate revenge by orchestrating a counter-strike on the worshippers of the Primordial Moon. For this, he brought three Barons and two Sanguines with him."

"And I assume nothing good occurred from that," Calliope said as her gaze moved to peer at a large painting not too far from her. The man on the painting was quite elegant, boasting youthful and refined features all accentuated by his deep red eyes.

Lenor secretly let out a sigh, before elaborating on his description. "Indeed. One of the Sanguines, Sir Elliot, died from the ambush. It seemed the enemy had predicted our attack likely owing to their Calamity Priest who aided them in their retreat."

"A Calamity Priest and not a Winner?" Calliope asked, to which Lenor responded with a nod of affirmation. She then added. "This can give us some clues about the Calamity Priest in question. I reckon there's more to this than meets the eye."

After some moments, she posed another question. "And the characteristic?"

Lenor shook his head hearing this, and the Countess let out a deprecating laugh. "Look at me, eternally grieving, when we completely lost a Sanguine and a Viscount in a bit over a week. Marquise Elmore, who assigned me here, would be quite disappointed."

She then turned back to the portrait of the man and added in a poignant tone. "He, too, will be disappointed."

Lenor's heart stung at this. The man—Lord Marcianus depicted on the portrait was a Sanguine Viscount or Scarlet Scholar who had recently died in a major attack involving the Primordial Moon believers and a third party which the Sanguines had later noted were believers in the Great Mother. His characteristic was lost, causing a blow to the Sanguines, but worse still was the fact that this viscount was the husband of the Countess Calliope who was in charge of the affairs in the city of Generosity.

The Sanguine Countess remained silent for a while before suddenly adding, "I'm surprised you aren't trying to use comforting words in this situation."

While Lenor could still feel the overall lack of substance in all her words, he still admired the way she dealt with loss. 

He shook his head and replied with a sad smile. "Grieving is expected, and we shouldn't fully repress it, nor should we let our emotions in the heat of the moment dictate our next actions."

"Humph, so you did have some comforting words to utter." The Sanguine faintly smiled before pointing at the piano by the window. "Try comforting me with your actions instead."

Madam, your words could be interpreted very differently. While Lenor lampooned in his mind, he placed the glass lamp stand before him, stood up, and approached the piano. His fingers soon traced the familiar keys as memories of both this life and his past life flowed in. After taking a seat and straightening his back, he laid his fingers on the keys.

Then, the hush enveloping the large room broke with a slow, deliberate chord as a sombre melody, and an introspective mood followed. The melody was simple yet haunting, like a spell of tranquillity and melancholy cast onto the single audience. At once, Calliope's features moved as emotions such as uneasiness crept. Various memories followed in her mind. Memories of her and her husband, Marcianus, spending time together came and went. 

At some point, she closed her eyes to fully immerse herself into the tune, getting lost in it as she laid back into her coffin while crossing her arms over her chest. However, to her displeasure, the melody came to an end, causing silence to fill in the room.

"A haunting and introspective piece. What is its name?" She spoke after some moments, her question causing Lenor to freeze.

Damn… Should I follow emperor Roselle's plagiarist footsteps or… He took a deep breath reaching the thought and responded. "Moonlight Sonata, Calliope."

The Countess hummed before mentioning, "It feels incomplete."

Excellent deduction, Lenor couldn't help but inwardly praise as he explained. "There are two more parts, with the second one being a sudden, brighter, and more playful melody, while the third is full of passion, energy and is incredibly dynamic."

Calliope nodded, but didn't seem to want him to continue. However, she broke into another faint smile and commented. "Keep up the great work. I might not need to find a high-level Spectator anymore. Or more precisely, find that doll obsessed rising star."

The doll obsessed noble Sanguine, huh? Lenor naturally knew who she was referring to, but gave a simple nod. 

This Sanguine demigod then let out a sigh as she observed her blood servant. "Unfortunately, I can't 'cheat,' and give you the Potion Professor ingredients, even though you've already digested your potion."

"However, don't make that mistake and go for the Primordial Moon believers for now. Yes, I'll talk to Gilbert tomorrow. You don't have to worry about him."

She then closed the lid of her coffin with some parting words. "You should go ahead and explore alternatives for your advancement. I can aid you if required."

Madame, again, this can be interpreted a plethora of ways… The Primordial Moon believers are also an alternative! He inwardly scolded as he got up and eventually exited the room.

Lenor then observed the half moon in silence. Indeed. The gathering is tomorrow… Maybe I can find an opportunity from them.