boyutpedia Chapter 292 Contract
Chapter 292 Contract
Chapter 292 Contract
As soon as he stepped into the hotel and felt the warmth emanating from the fireplace, Cyril finally felt alive again.
He then found the receptionist and communicated with him for a while in his not-so-fluent Fussack language before finally being able to check in.
As a colony of the Fusaks, the Fusak language is widely spoken in the Gargas Islands, but the local indigenous accents are also quite strong, which creates some communication barriers for Sirion, who is not very fluent in Fusak.
After checking in, and being led to his room on the second floor by the waiter, the first thing he did was to light the fireplace in the room.
Call ~
"What a mistake. We should have come here in the summer. The temperature here makes me feel like the sea is about to freeze over."
"Those people on the street wearing the same thin clothes as me must be warriors. Even extraordinary hunters passing through can't withstand the low temperatures here."
"This is the first time I've felt so envious of those who excel in physical constitution. I feel like my cold resistance as a Sequence 6 is even worse than that of a Sequence 9 warrior."
As he muttered to himself, he stiffly rubbed his fingers together, using a "lighting" trick to intensify the fire in the stove.
"One stove isn't enough; it feels like one side is hot and the other side is cold—no, it should be one side hot and three sides cold."
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After muttering to himself, he clasped his hands together above the stove and whispered in ancient Hermes: "Fool not of this age, mysterious ruler above the gray fog, king of yellow and black who holds good fortune."
Half a minute later, a thick gray fog appeared in his field of vision.
Klein, the "Fool" above the gray fog, stared briefly at Cyril, who was huddled in front of the fireplace. Then, he raised his gaze and saw a cold, white city with snowflakes falling in mid-air.
"Where are you?"
Cyril rubbed his fingers together, causing the flames in the fireplace to swell slightly. Feeling the warmth, he replied, "The Gargas Islands north of the Sunia Sea, this is the capital city, 'White City' Nas."
"Whaling is prevalent here. I originally came here to document the local scenery and customs, but now I feel like I can't leave the stove in front of me."
After a brief pause, he got to the real purpose of the prayer: "Please help me buy some warm clothes, hats, gloves, shoes, and scarves. They need to be good at keeping warm."
"Give me another bowl of ginger soup... never mind, there's no ginger in this world, any hot drink will do."
Klein, standing above the gray mist, remained silent for a moment before asking, "Would brewed black tea or coffee be alright?"
"Actually, I would recommend strong liquor to keep warm. Vodka from the coastal areas of Fussac is quite good. It is said that just one sip can warm you up."
Cyril's lips twitched slightly: "...I don't drink hard liquor."
"Give me a hot coffee, but without sugar or honey, or I'll get full."
Klein: "No problem."
After responding, he immediately severed the connection and left the gray fog.
In the inn, Cyril sat by the fireplace, occasionally rubbing his fingers together to make the flames leap out and swirl around him, dispelling the chill behind him that the fireplace couldn't reach.
Thump~ thump~
A knock suddenly sounded at the door. Xireen turned around and glanced back. His quietly activated spiritual vision allowed him to see two dense clusters of spiritual light outside the door.
After letting the flickering flames fall back into the furnace, he turned his head to look at the desk with the briefcase on it, waved his hand, and let the scroll spread on the table fly into his hand before opening the door.
squeak~
To his surprise, a man and a woman were standing outside the door. Although there was no obvious hostility in their eyes, they were very wary and seemed to have recognized Randolph Carter.
The man looked to be around 30 years old, with light and sparse eyebrows and a thick beard. His build was similar to Father Utravsky in the Harvest Church in Backlund, though slightly taller.
He was wearing a heavy, animal-fur-covered orange priest's robe from the Church of the God of War, embroidered with images of greatswords, shields, and cannons.
The woman next to him was shorter, but still about two meters tall. When they stood face to face, Cyril had to look up slightly.
She had long, fiery red hair braided into a thick plait, and her skin was somewhat rough, seemingly lacking in care and exposed to the elements for a long time. There were obvious wrinkles around her eyes, cheeks, and mouth, but she looked very energetic.
A leather whip was wrapped around her waist, a well-maintained old-fashioned firearm was on her thigh holster, and a dagger was strapped to her calf.
Cyril noticed that her left hand was tucked behind her back, presumably holding a weapon or magical artifact as a precaution.
Withdrawing his scrutinizing gaze, Sirien placed his hand on his chest and politely bowed to the two men outside the door: "Good afternoon, gentlemen. May I ask what brings you here?"
The tall man, dressed in the robes of a priest from the Church of the God of War, clenched his fists, placing one hand across his waist and the other across his chest, performing a standard greeting of the Church of the God of War, before saying, "Good afternoon, Mr. Randolph. I am Archbishop Igrove of the Church of the Dawn of Nass, and this is Angelina, the Deacon of the Twilight Sword of Nass."
"We are not here with hostility, but simply to confirm your purpose in coming to Nass."
Although the Church of the Lord of Storms has issued a warrant for your arrest, this does not represent the stance of the Church of the God of War.
Cyril raised an eyebrow: "Does this conform to the covenant between your seven major churches?"
Igrove nodded calmly: "The Church of the Lord of Storms did not seek our help in issuing a warrant for your arrest."
...So as long as I don't cause trouble or make a scene here, you'll turn a blind eye to me?
He was neither surprised nor surprised by the archbishop's politeness.
Surprisingly, he came to me himself to say these words.
This is not surprising because the Fussac Empire's garrison on the Gargas Islands is not strong. The strongest among them is the Rank 5 Archbishop in front of him, who may also possess a Level 1 Sealed Artifact, but is far inferior to that of the Rose Island.
Such a defensive force poses no threat to him as long as he doesn't fall into a trap.
However, I had only been checking in for a short time when the local archbishop came to my door directly, which shows that Randolph Carter's reputation has spread far and wide.
Was it because of the £45000 bounty?
Composing himself, he nodded politely to Archbishop Igrove before him: "I am a painter, and I came to Nas to learn about the whaling industry and local culture of the Gargas Islands, and to find new inspiration for my art."
"I'll probably be leaving in a week or two. You can probably tell that I'm not used to the cold climate here."
As he spoke, he couldn't help but rub his hands together.
Damn it, why do we have to talk in the doorway? The little bit of warmth I just built up in my room is about to go out.
Archbishop Igrove and Angelina, who was standing beside him, exchanged a glance. The latter then took out a dark brown parchment from a hidden pocket in her coat.
"To put our minds at ease, we need you to sign this contract."
"I swear to my Lord that this contract will not harm you in any way; it is merely a binding agreement that puts both of us at ease, and it will automatically expire once you leave the Gargas Islands."
Cyril looked at the parchment that radiated the "sunlight": "I need to take a look before I make a decision."
Igrove: "Of course."
Xireen reached out and took the parchment from the tall, middle-aged woman, examining it carefully twice.
He discovered that the terms on the parchment were very detailed: one must abide by local laws, cooperate with local law enforcement, not attack others at will or use one's extraordinary abilities to secretly influence others, and not cause extensive damage to the environment.
However, it also specifically states that one can retaliate when encountering danger, extreme situations, or malicious provocations.
Looking at the list of terms and conditions on the parchment contract, he suspected that this was something that had been prepared in advance, a common practice of the local "God of War" church when encountering powerful or troublesome extraordinary beings from outside.
...This is really not like the style of a "warrior".
Alternatively, the Tier 1 sealed artifact from the Gargas Islands is from the "Black Emperor" pathway, and such a contract could be used.
Lost in thought, he pulled a gold coin from his pocket and flicked it into the air with a clang.
Archbishop Igrove's gaze remained calm, showing no surprise or astonishment at his actions.
...Do you already know my pathway and sequence?
As he pondered, the gold coin fell back into his hand.
Face up indicates approval!
After a brief pause, he tossed the gold coins a few more times.
Then, looking at Archbishop Igrove outside the door, he smiled and nodded: "Do you have a pen?"
As soon as she finished speaking, Angelina handed her a round-bellied fountain pen.
After taking the parchment, Sirion signed his name on it and handed it and the pen to Igrove.
The latter then signed his name as well.
Golden rays suddenly burst forth from the dark brown parchment, eventually intertwining to form an illusory seal.
The parchment contract then vanished in the pale golden illusory flames, turning into two tiny specks of light, one entering Igrove's body and the other entering Cyren's body, but passing through his body and flying towards the corner of the room.
Halfway there, the point of light inexplicably retreated and merged into Cyrien's body.
Igrove smiled at him: "The contract is complete. I hope Nass brings you a pleasant experience, and I wish you can find the inspiration you're looking for here."
Cyril smiled and nodded. After seeing the archbishop and Angelina off, the door in front of him slammed shut by itself.
Cyril's body then rapidly thinned, losing its thickness, and eventually became a portrait of Randolph Carter.
In the corner of the room, the shadow beside the wooden cabinet quietly fell, revealing another figure of Cyril.
In his vision, the gray fog surged silently, and the figure of "The Fool" sat high above the fog, looking down at him.
During his conversation with Igrove, Klein, who had prepared hot coffee, contacted him through the prayer lights above the gray fog and even threw him a paper angel.
With the help of the imaginary clone created by the painting and the protection of the paper angel, the parchment contract that was supposed to bind him was cleverly grafted onto the clone.
Although he didn't intend to cause trouble here, he also didn't want to be bound by a contract that might be a trap.
As I pondered, Klein's voice echoed in my ears: "Is there a problem with that contract?"
Cyril shook his head slightly: "The contract itself is fine, but I suspect that Nas possesses a Level 1 sealed artifact from the 'Black Emperor' pathway."
"A Level 1 sealed artifact?"
"Yes." Sirion nodded, then explained, "The geographical location of the Gargas Islands is not advantageous, and it does not have any particularly outstanding industries. Its only pillar industry is whaling, which lacks sufficient value."
"For the Fusak Empire, this place is neither worth keeping nor worth abandoning, so the forces stationed here are not strong. The strongest one is that Rank 5 archbishop from earlier."
"One or at most two Sequence 5 Extraordinary Beings are not enough to deter the pirates at sea, so there should be another Level 1 Sealed Artifact."
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