Chapter 84: The Short Man

The commander named Astro said that these were just unimportant records of public order. To him, perhaps that was the case, but to Salser, he could learn a lot while searching for Jeanne's whereabouts.

Salser weighed the thick stack of public order records in his hands. This represented everything that had happened in the city recently, Salser thought. The records were neatly stacked together, secured with a metal clip, and filled with dense annotations in the common language, stamped with the city guard's red seal—the Winter Wolf.

Before the birth of the Warren, there were ancient gods who ascended to divinity. Among them was the white-furred one-eyed beast god—the Winter Wolf, Togg. Similar in status to the Five-Tusked Boar, Fener, it had been missing for a long time, yet Salser never expected to see its mark in such a remote place. What a miracle, Salser thought.

Salser didn't continue to focus on the Winter Wolf, instead, he began to flip through the stack of public order records.

What might be documented in the earlier records?

Salser pondered for a while, but realizing that being able to see the events of the past few days was already not easy, he let go of that unrealistic expectation. He opened the metal clip and began to browse through the records one by one.

—The fire last night was a mass suicide by the followers of an Outer God.

—Someone was found carrying prohibited items such as gunpowder and muskets into the Lower City district of Cast City, noting for the city guard to investigate further.

—Recent public order report from the Children's Holy Legion of Cast City Guard.

—Report on Giovanni's mentally ill aunt drawing cultist magic circles.

—A member of the Children's Legion reported that their father, Trico, was involved in an extramarital affair. After investigation, Trico was suspected of involvement in a plan to detonate a natural gas pipeline. The Council notified that he would be publicly executed in the Central City district market.

At this point, Salser paused.

This place seemed to be experiencing frequent accidents recently, and many conspiracies and unstable clues were unearthed by this Children's Legion—or more appropriately called informants. Outside Cast City, due to the trade conflicts with the Moranth people, bloody wars had been ongoing for years, with a blood feud that had accumulated for hundreds of years and countless dead; inside Cast City, due to natural gas pipelines and cultist activities, accidents were frequent—or perhaps they were not always frequent, but recently, for some reason, the situation had become particularly unstable.

This place also isn't very suitable for retirement, Salser thought.

He continued to flip through the records until he reached the last few pages of the stack:

—The Inquisitor of the Holy Cross Church, Jeanne, and the knight from the nation of Britain on Lether continent, Mordred, engaged in a brawl due to a dispute in the marketplace. During their fight, a significant amount of public facilities were damaged and property was lost, fortunately, there were no casualties. The Council decided to detain the two in the upper level of the Tash Prison for one month, with the compensation to be borne jointly by the Church branch and the British delegation.

Salser choked on his tea, coughing it out through his nose.

This fool! A savage peasant! An illiterate who's only good at burning corpses! A fragile-hearted crybaby who'd bury her face and sob at the mere sound of a harmonica! I've barely been away for a moment and this woman is already making her way to prison. Does she have some peculiar predilection for cells?

He was unaware that Viola had also soaked her pillow with tears that night. The tunes he had been playing for decades held a significant impact on certain individuals.

Salser muttered a few curses under his breath, then set down the last few unread records and walked out.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Astro looked up and asked him.

"Yes, I found it... My esteemed Lady Jeanne, sent to Tash Prison for a street brawl, detained for a month."

Salser said with a sardonic smile.

Astro's face showed an obvious astonishment—perhaps because the role of a inquisitor didn't quite align with street brawling. "If you go with Sister Hortensia, perhaps she can bail her out, Mr. Salser," he said.

"I'll try my best..."

Salser took a long sip of tea, placed the empty cup back on the commander's desk, and gave a nod of thanks. After expressing his gratitude for Astro's hospitality and company, he took his leave and departed.

He crossed over the moaning injured as he made his way out; these were people who had been blinded by burns, those who were already disabled, children who leaned on crutches like the elderly, those who had gone mad, those who could barely take care of themselves, those who were on the brink of death—all with pale faces, expressions ranging from numbness to despair, emitting sorrowful sighs and whimpers, as if they were in a mournful chorus.

This place made him feel suffocated, like being in a cellar—the air was filled with the stench of burnt flesh, the metallic scent of blood, the foul odor of excrement or urine due to inability to care for oneself, the smell of disinfectant and alcohol, and the heavy breaths of the injured.

After a few steps, Salser saw a commotion outside a partitioned treatment room. Many soldiers were armed and gathered there, almost ready to rush into the treatment room, while the doctors were still attending to the injured on the ground, but they frequently cast worried glances in that direction.

The young doctor who had nearly stepped on a patient while running through the hall was the same one from earlier. Just a moment ago, he was bandaging an patient with a relatively minor injury. After forcing himself to compose his distorted expression to bandage the woman's arm, he hurriedly grabbed a scalpel and rushed towards the treatment room. His disheveled white hair and sharp, red eyes, like two daggers, made him look like an avenger.

The soldiers crowded outside the treatment room, clamoring and shouting warnings into the room.

The number of people there grew larger.

The crowd's shouts, curses, and warnings were incessant. Some yelled, "Murderer!" Others shouted, "You ungrateful animal!" And still, others demanded, "Let her go!"

At that moment, a thunderous roar drowned out all other sounds. It was the burly man with black hair—the soldier named Yahan. Dressed in the city guard's uniform, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing his hairy arms, his face tense with anxiety. He seemed to have just escorted Caren to treat a short man, Salser thought.

"You're not going anywhere, shorty!" Yahan bellowed fiercely, "Release the nun, and we'll give you a way out!"

Salser used invisible magical tentacles to push through the crowded mass, shoving aside the young men who were also trying to squeeze in. A hand grabbed his arm, attempting to pull him out, but he unceremoniously kicked back with full force, sending a seemingly robust soldier tumbling onto his back with a groan of pain—Salser's strength, though not as formidable as Jeanne's, was more than enough to handle these young, mundane soldiers.

He had no patience for the idiots who tried to hold onto him at such a time.

Inside, the scene was indeed chaotic, with several guards encircling the short man who was backed against a corner.

The man, who seemed to have just received treatment, was wrapped in bandages, his face pale but his strength evident. He was backed into a corner of the room, having kicked over a surgical stretcher, and his powerful fingers were wrapped around Caren's throat. One soldier was rolling on the ground, a surgical knife stuck in his thigh. The other soldiers had already drawn their swords, and like Yahan, who also held his sword, they roared threats at the man.

"Nobody come closer, I want to leave!" the stocky short man shouted. "You'd better all clear the way for me, or I'll snap this bitch's neck if anyone dares to approach!"

"Release her!" that doctor also rushed in.

Salser stared at the nun for a moment. She was held by the short man like a captured bird, her slender fingers clasped together in front of her abdomen, her eyes gently closed as if in prayer.

He extended his soul tentacles to connect with her. "You really do get into a lot of trouble," he said.

Caren opened her eyes and calmly looked at him, showing neither surprise nor fear, as if she had known he would come. She paused for a moment, trying to send a message through the Dark wizard's magical connection. "Perhaps it's an accident," she said, "I am responsible for this soul before the Lord, but he seems to be excessively afraid of the fate that awaits him."

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