Chapter Twenty-Four: Reverence and Yearning

Sorcerer of Deceit?

Countless associations sprang instantly to Mulan's mind; scenes from novels and films she had read and watched surged forth, mingling with the unchanged visage of the mill, making the previous moment feel almost like a hallucination.

"Come, I'll take you back."

Walton said little more, simply bringing Mulan back to the carriage. As it started to move, they soon returned to the city.

Inside the carriage, Walton kept his eyes fixed on a necklace adorned with a large blue sapphire, his expression grave. Mulan dared not disturb him, but carefully observed the necklace. She guessed it was the one Walton had seized from the sea witch.

"Mulan, you'd best not look directly at this necklace. It will give you nightmares."

At his words, Mulan instinctively straightened her posture, averting her gaze as much as possible.

"What is it?"

Walton took a small metal box from his pocket, placed the necklace inside, sealed it, and tucked it away again before turning to Mulan.

"This is a sacred artifact, called the Heart of Deep Blue. It is beautiful, and dangerous. You'll understand one day. Now, let's speak of other matters."

Walton sat up a little straighter, his expression relaxing. He pulled something from his pocket and handed it to Mulan, who reflexively accepted it. Looking down, she saw a handful of dolls.

"Just give these to the people after I leave."

These "people"?

Mulan was startled, and examined the dolls closely. There were seven in total, each no longer than a finger, crafted with exquisite detail. Their clothing was layered and lifelike, their faces frozen in expressions of terror or stupor, making them oddly adorable.

At the sight, Mulan had a vague suspicion, and a profound sense of awe toward sorcerers of deceit.

"Who should I hand them to?"

"Don't you want to know what these dolls are?"

Mulan hesitated, then ventured a bold guess.

"You wouldn't tell me these are captured cultists, would you?"

Walton clapped his hands.

"Correct! Your imagination is richer than most. I appreciate vibrant young people like you."

Mulan's face betrayed her shock. She had suspected as much, but hearing confirmation was still uncanny. Sorcerers of deceit were truly terrifying.

"Who do I hand them to?"

Holding the dolls, Mulan was suddenly very cautious, worried that handling them too forcefully might have consequences. Walton, however, was casual—he grabbed one doll and pulled it firmly.

"No need to be overly careful. These dolls are incredibly resilient; even a knife would hardly damage them. Only if they give up on their own will they truly die. As for whom to give them to, someone will come for them..."

A tearing sound—Walton's doll lost an arm. His words halted, and Mulan froze.

The doll began to tremble, and from the place where its arm had been severed, thick, jam-like red fluid oozed forth.

"Ah, a minor mishap. Don't worry. See, it's fixed."

Walton plucked out one of his own hairs and tied it around the doll's wound. The blood ceased to flow. He handed the doll and its severed arm to the sweating Mulan, who once again confirmed in her heart: sorcerers of deceit were frightening. At the very least, Sir Walton was terrifying.

Walton suddenly leaned closer to Mulan, startling her, but she forced herself not to flinch. He lowered his voice.

"By the way, your status is fairly free. After I leave Valentine, help me with a few private matters..."

"Please say the word!"

Mulan did not dare be negligent; Sir Walton was clearly a powerful figure, far beyond the likes of the chief cleric. Securing his favor would be greatly advantageous, and even if there were no benefit, she certainly dared not offend him. The chief cleric would be powerless to protect her.

Yet as Walton continued, Mulan's expression grew strange, and later, a little embarrassed. She gained a deeper understanding of Sir Walton...

"I trust you'll do well."

After saying this, the carriage stopped. With a tap of his cane, the door opened by itself. He gestured for her to alight, and Mulan quickly stepped out.

Walton remained in the carriage, reminding Mulan as she stood in the street:

"Right, I must catch the train. This carriage is never as comfortable as the train. Someone will come to answer your questions. Until next time."

With that, the door closed, and the ghostly horses drew the carriage through the mist, vanishing before Mulan's eyes. The surrounding world grew brighter and more vivid.

Raindrops fell, bringing a chill to Mulan, and passersby occasionally glanced at the figure standing motionless.

Mulan looked down at the dolls in her hands. Now that Sir Walton had gone, the dolls seemed to come alive, twisting in her grasp. Some had already stood up, only to be immediately caught by her.

The most frantic was the doll missing an arm, clutching its detached limb and writhing in Mulan's other palm. Its movements betrayed agony, yet its face remained in a smile.

Mulan felt a pang of sympathy for the doll, but recalling what these creatures might have done, and thinking of the girl aboard the Princess Nishehriel, his sympathy faded.

He also recalled the recent disappearances. With nobles missing, the Valentine police faced immense pressure, yet not all bodies had been recovered. Perhaps some of the missing had been scapegoated by the mad killer in place of Sir Walton.

After some thought, Mulan stuffed all the dolls into his pocket, keeping his hand pressed over them, and strode purposefully toward home.

Today, Mulan had attended a prayer, which eased his mind a little, though perhaps more thanks to Father Irwin than to any divine influence. He had also truly witnessed the power of the supernatural.

He was left not only deeply shocked and awed, but also filled with excitement and curiosity. To live an ordinary life was a kind of happiness, yet faced with such opportunity, what young person could resist longing for more?

Since Sir Walton said someone would come for him, Mulan believed he should simply wait at home.

But before that, he thought it best to quickly handle Walton's private matters—preferably before "they" came for him.