Chapter 538 - 538 Historical Origins
538 Historical Origins
538 Historical Origins
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Even through the glass window, Lumian heard the clash of two lads’ swords outside.
He couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows.
They’re really fighting?
Though duels were popular in Trier, it was rare for them to wield weapons without the formalities. Normally, they’d go through the entire process: determine the type of duel—cold weapons or revolvers—sign a contract, find a recognized witness, and then borrow weapons from the café’s front desk or the bar counter. Only these duels were legal, avoiding police intervention.
But wielding a longsword at the slightest disagreement was either a prelude to riot or a mob vendetta. Such lethal weapons rarely surfaced in real fights.
Port Santa, or rather, the Feynapotter Kingdom’s security is so poor? Lumian was surprised by this.
From the Flying Bird to the Solow Motel, he noticed the locals’ penchant for carrying blades and swords, reminiscent of scenes from classical novels.
It was actually legal!
In a maritime colony like Port Farim, openly carrying such items was unheard of. Even a dagger had to be concealed.
For him, though, this was a welcome advantage.
Fascinated, Lumian observed the desperate struggle between the two lads through the window, occasionally commenting on their combat techniques in his mind.
Suddenly, a group of people jogged over from the street.
All women, they wore black cloth hats with white patterns, black lining, and brown leather armor. Dark cloaks adorned with two crossed swords, and brass revolvers strapped to their waists completed their attire.
The woman leading the group seemed to be in her late twenties, with thick, naturally curly black hair, thick eyebrows, large eyes, and plump red lips—
quite beautiful.
Standing at over 1.7 meters tall, she drew a straight sword from her back and called out to the two men fighting on the street with a cold expression.
Lumian only understood the word “stop.”
The two lads truly ceased their actions, standing by the street and accepting the reprimand from the group of women, their imposing demeanor fading.
After a few minutes, they left separately with their swords, not being apprehended.
Lumian took a sip of his Torres coffee, perplexed by the situation.
The language barrier proved quite troublesome.
After Ludwig polished off the food on the table at a controlled speed, Lugano, now sporting an unremarkable face, returned.
Lumian wasn’t in a hurry to inquire if he had found a black-market merchant who could craft fake identities. He casually asked, “Is it legal to possess cold weapons in Port Santa?”
Lugano lowered his round-rimmed black hat and dropped his voice.
“That’s right. It’s a local custom. The Feynapotter Kingdom government respects this tradition. Besides, it’s a good thing for them to have more people die in the Gaia Province.”
“Why?” Lumian inquired with interest.
Lugano covered his face with his hand, as if afraid of being followed.
Observing this, Lumian tossed him the Lie earring.
Lugano hurried to the washroom and reverted to his original appearance, albeit his facial features becoming more refined.
Only then did he relax and explain, “Have you ever heard of the Battle of the Violated Oath?”
Lumian, shaped by Aurore’s rigorous education, instinctively replied, “The Battle of the Violated Oath that began in the Fifth Epoch in 738? The one where Lenburg, Masin, Segar, and other small south-central countries were separated from the north of the Feynapotter Kingdom, and the Church of the God of Knowledge and Wisdom broke off from the Church of Earth Mother?”
Lugano was taken aback.
“Yes.”
He only had a rough idea. The other party had actually revealed the exact year and final outcome.
After a few seconds, Lugano lowered his voice and said, “During the Battle of the Violated Oath, the entire Gaia Province, especially those near the Dariège mountain range, attempted to gain independence but failed.
“Later, in order to guard against the natives, despite high-quality iron and coal mines just south of the Dariège Mountains, the Feynapotter Kingdom only set up smelting factories and no gun factories. There wasn’t a single native in the troops stationed here; they were all assigned to other places.
“Was there once a widespread belief in the God of Knowledge and Wisdom here?” Lumian couldn’t help but glance at Ludwig, who was enjoying dessert.
The key to the independence of Lenburg, Masin, Segar, and other countries in the south-central region was their mainstream faith in the God of Knowledge and Wisdom, not the Earth Mother.
“I don’t know,” Lugano honestly shook his head.
Undeterred, he pressed on with the matter at hand.
“You should already know that the ancient Gaia Province mainly comprised four types of people. Firstly, farmers. Secondly, fishermen from places like Port Santa. Thirdly, mountain dwellers who relied on minerals and hunting to survive. Fourthly, the herdsmen you’re familiar with. The latter three are fierce, wielding swords fearlessly in conflicts.”
Lumian nodded.
That was indeed the case.
Whether fishermen, mountain dwellers, or herdsmen, they all lived in relative poverty. They battled nature’s cruelty and faced various dangers beyond human settlements. They even had to be wary of those among them with ill intentions. Swords and blades were necessities, not ornaments.
Lumian had heard firsthand from the migrating herdsmen about wolf pack attacks and the brutality of bandits. It had left a deep impression on him.
Lugano downed the lemonade he had just ordered and sighed in relief.
“One of Earth Mother’s three combat orders is stationed permanently in Gaia Province. They guard against us in the north and Lenburg in the northeast. Simultaneously, they aim to monitor the locals.
“Heh heh, encountering combat nuns in Gaia Province and Port Santa isn’t uncommon. Their demeanors differ from other women…”
Lugano’s expression shifted to one of leisure and fascination.
The team just now were the combat nuns who maintain order? Lumian realized.
He teased Lugano with a smile, “They’re nuns.”
Lugano smiled enigmatically and remarked, “The nuns of the Earth Mother Church don’t take vows of chastity. Instead, they pledge to have as many children as possible before a certain age. If they’re interested in you, they’ll be quite proactive. Sometimes, they might even push a bit. The young folks here love showcasing their bravery in front of these nuns. Their courage might catch someone’s eye.”
Pledging to have numerous children before a certain age… It sounds peculiar, aligning with Earth Mother’s teachings but reminiscent of another Mother. Local customs, governmental involvement, religious doctrines, and primal courtship behaviors has all woven into the folklore of this place where cold weapons rule the streets. Lumian hadn’t expected such complexity behind a seemingly trivial matter.
Upon reflection, it was rather intriguing.
At that moment, Lumian suddenly understood Aurore’s words from the past.
“If I return to university without life’s pressures, I’d study history.”
Phew… Lumian exhaled slowly and turned to Lugano, “Any progress?”
Lugano, still lost in thoughts about combat nuns, was caught off guard and struggled to snap out of his reverie.
“You Intisians…” Lumian clicked his tongue.
Only then did Lugano grasp the question. He sheepishly smiled and said,
“I’ve made some. I’ve found a well-connected black-market merchant who can help.
“Would you like to meet them? He’s also a descendant of Dariège.”
“Sure.” Lumian finished his coffee and stood up.
…
Trier, fourth level of the catacombs.
Jenna and Franca each gripped a burning white candle, their eyes fixed on the ancient tomb that lay open, hesitant to advance.
No one knew what lay buried inside, and the fear of something terrifying emerging lingered in the air.
In the outer world, the two Demonesses could employ divination to discern the situation. However, in the catacombs, establishing a close connection with the ordinary spirit world was nearly impossible. The outcome was evident.
After all, Lumian couldn’t enter through Spirit World Traversal, but he could “teleport” within its confines.
After a brief pause, Franca passed her Mirror Substitution to Jenna and stepped forward with solemn determination. Relying on her spiritual premonition, she cautiously approached the ancient tomb.
As they drew nearer, the dim yellow candlelight revealed a heap of pale-white bones in the entrance area, adorned with light greenish-black mold spots.
Franca raised the white candle, casting its light into the depths of the tomb.
Skeletons lay scattered in disarray, occupying every inch of the ground. In the center, a tilted sarcophagus revealed a multitude of decaying bones.
Franca hesitated for a moment before declaring, “It doesn’t seem dangerous.”
Only then did Jenna approach, returning the Mirror Substitution.
Franca continued her observation and remarked, “Nothing of value either.”
Gems and other items were absent among the burial articles, likely lost during the construction of the catacombs and the opening of these ancient tombs. Everything else had decayed or shattered. Even the murals on the walls bore only faint traces.
Jenna observed for a while and said uncertainly, “What about the area where these bones are pressing down?”
“Let me take a look.” Franca moved closer, allowing invisible spider silk to spread and entwine the pale-white bones at the entrance, aiding in their movement.
Suddenly, an irregular mirror fragment, seemingly coated in black paint, materialized in the flames.
Jenna and Franca’s eyes narrowed.
It bore a striking resemblance to the Mirror World Fragment they had obtained in Fourth Epoch Trier!
“Did a special Mirror Person once die here?” Franca mused. “Did Krismona’s shadow appear here to inform us? But why did She attack us?”
Jenna shared the perplexity. After a moment of thought, she said, “Why did the special Mirror Person die here? Who owns this tomb? Or rather, which ancient family does it belong to?”
Franca stared for a moment before nodding solemnly.
“That might be our next investigation.”
Finding no anomalies, the duo stored away the mirror fragment. Utilizing the formless spider silk of the Demoness of Pleasure, they meticulously searched the entire tomb but found nothing that identified the tomb owner.
Franca sighed and said, “Well, we’ll unravel it when we get back. Let’s go acquire an antique tearcatcher for the employer now.”