761 The Blessings Festival

761 The Blessings Festival

Beside a segment of the old city wall, now merely a relic for admiration, Lumian’s gaze passed between the tall and short gray-white stone buildings and landed on a majestic temple standing near the mountain range.

It towered thirty meters high, made up of several turrets, reminiscent of an ancient war fortress left over from bygone eras.

At this moment, influenced by both the mountains and the clouds, the near-noon sunlight cast a dim hue, cloaking the grand temple in a dusk-like veil.

“Is that a temple of the God of Combat?” Lumian didn’t turn his head as he asked the Knight of Swords beside him.

The God of Combat Church was the only state religion of the Feysac Empire, but following their defeat in the war a few years ago, the Evernight Goddess Church had gained a certain right to preach within the empire, although they seemed unenthusiastic about this role.

The Knight of Swords replied succinctly, “It’s a cathedral.”

Not a temple, but a cathedral? True to the Feysacians, who suffer from a fascination with enormity, and their taste is not bad… For some reason, Lumian suddenly recalled a phrase he had heard at the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society: More is beautiful, bigger is better.

He then asked, “Is this a Feysac colony?”

“Yes,” the Knight of Swords replied in a deep voice, “but now, the Loenese have the right to trade here.”

Lumian nodded slightly, saying nothing further as he followed the road into Raklev City.

Along the way, it was easy for him to distinguish people from different countries among the crowd:

The Feysacians, tall in stature-men typically over six feet three inches, women nearly six feet-matched Lumian’s stereotype of them: descendants of giants, even including many half-giants. Their dressing tended to be casual, with either unbuttoned jackets or no jackets at all;

The Loenese, predominantly with black hair, cared much about their appearance, always impeccably dressed. The ladies favored round-brimmed bonnets and carried sun-blocking parasols, while the gentlemen were decked out in top hats and carried canes;

The locals of Raklev were darker-skinned and wiry. The men often wore durable canvas work clothes, and the women dressed for labor, with only a few in brightly colored dresses, herding cattle, sheep, and horses.

Lumian watched a dwarf horse and several long-haired cattle pass by, spotting a local man in a dark red robe with a stark white skull topped with a wool-knit gray and white hat on his head.

“Is this the remnant of Death worship you mentioned in the local customs?” Lumian didn’t choose his path deliberately but followed his instincts.

The Knight of Swords nodded slightly and said, “Yes, the people of Raklev keep the skulls of their deceased relatives at home, believing they protect them, bring good luck, and help fend off dangers lurking in the night. The more skulls a family has, the more prosperous and developed it is considered.”

This is similar to the practice in Cordu where relatives’ hair and nails are kept… but here, the Death worship is much stronger, hence the choice of skulls, making it more extreme…

Lumian suddenly felt a pang of melancholy.

The Knight of Swords continued, “Some even make amulets from the skulls of their deceased kin to carry with them at all times. What you saw earlier was just such a case.

During the annual Blessing Festival, all the locals in Raklev take the skulls from their homes into the streets, dress them solemnly, and join in the revelry and prayers together.”

“Blessing Festival?” Lumian perked up, asking with gravity.

Having experienced Lent, Sea Prayer Festival, and Dream Festival, he felt like he had developed a sort of festival-induced PTSD, with a headache starting whenever he heard of another special day.

Oxyto, a Shaman King of the Rose School of Thought and a key follower of the Primordial Moon, couldn’t be staying in Raklev just for the Blessing Festival, could he?

The Knight of Swords responded somberly, “The Blessing Festival has long since passed; it was in November last year, more than a month before the Dream Festival.”

You know about the Dream Festival… Lumian first breathed a sigh of relief, then asked anxiously, “Did Oxyto first appear in the Raklev area before or after the Blessing Festival?”

The Knight of Swords thought for a moment before replying, “Before.”

“So during the Blessing Festival, he was likely still in the Raklev area?” Lumian furrowed his brow slightly.

“That seems to be the case,” the Knight of Swords answered, very cautiously.

…

Franca’s gaze drifted away from a local woman with colorful skulls sewn onto her shoulder, and she turned to a tall, blond, blue-eyed woman from Feysac with a smile. “Sorry, I already have a lady companion!”

Isn’t this Feysacian a bit too forthright?

Flirting with me and Jenna, and to think, aside from men, there were also beautiful women inviting us over!

The Feysacian chuckled. “I don’t mind if you both come over to my place.”

“I mind,” Jenna spoke up for Franca.

They had been wandering around Raklev City for nearly two hours. Although Franca hadn’t actively unleashed the Demoness of Pleasure’s charm-to avoid suspicion of fishing purposefully-their carefully styled Demoness appearance alone, in terms of looks, demeanor, and figure, was enough to draw plenty of attention.

Here, the Feysacians were bold and direct, both men and women, while the Loenese were conservative and reserved, only daring to approach after finding a good reason. The locals mostly just watched from a distance, quietly following, with a few gathering the courage to speak up, but only in the guise of offering guidance.

“Alright then.” The female Feysacian, a bit taller than Franca, waved her hand in disappointment and turned to enter a nearby café.

Franca and Jenna were now in the heart of Raklev City, on a street that boasted the grand and elegant architectural style typical of Feysac.

“It’s almost noon, how about trying some Feysac cuisine?” Franca looked up at the sun, bright but not warm.

She was referring to the St. Millom Restaurant diagonally across from them.

St. Millom was the capital of the Feysac Empire, and naming a restaurant after it seemed an attempt to offer an “authentic” experience.

“Sure.” Jenna nodded gently.

As the two Demonesses stepped into the grand and intricately decorated restaurant, Anthony sat down on a bench across the street and quietly started on his lunch-a corn tortilla wrapped around beef and lamb, seasoned with various spices.

…

Lumian walked with Ludwig and Lugano until they reached the temple-like Holy Lake Cathedral.

But once they truly entered the city, the Knight of Swords, Maric, disappeared. However, Lumian’s instincts told him that this Minor Arcana card holder was still nearby.

“Feeling anything unusual?” Lumian inquired of Ludwig.

“No,” Ludwig shook his head.

Lumian then turned to Lugano. “What about you?”

“Me?” Lugano looked baffled.

Isn’t it Ludwig’s job to locate people?

What does this have to do with me?

“Do you sense anything unusual?” Lumian calmly repeated the question.

For some reason, Lugano felt that his employer had become more approachable lately, so he honestly replied, “No.”

Gurgle, gurgle, a strange noise sounded next to both him and Lumian.

Both turned their gaze to Ludwig.

Touching his stomach, Ludwig looked eager and said, “It’s time for lunch.”

“Alright,” Lumian agreed readily.

His philosophy was to never let a child go hungry, especially since the starving child might resort to cannibalism.

He looked around and pointed towards a bustling street to the northwest of Holy Lake Square. “There seem to be quite a few restaurants there.”

This time, Ludwig didn’t need Lugano’s hand-holding; he scampered ahead with short strides, while Lumian followed at a leisurely pace, and Lugano trailed close behind.

The street bore a very typical Feysac characteristic, complete with trees and benches, resembling a streetscape in the Northern Continent countries.

Lumian glanced around briefly and pointed with his chin to St. Millom Restaurant not far away. “Let’s try some Feysac cuisine.”

“Okay.” Ludwig wiped his mouth.

Suddenly, his eager expression turned to confusion, and his head moved left and right as if searching for something.

Lumian noticed this unusual behavior.

“Why? Want an ice cream too?” he teased Ludwig.

Imitating Lugano’s usual demeanor, Ludwig pressed his voice down and said, “I think I sensed that child from the body, but it’s vague.”

Sensed the bird-clawed baby? Lumian looked around; there were no other children in sight, just Feysacians and locals, with a few from Loen scattered among them.

There weren’t even any pregnant women around.

Then, Ludwig added, “I can’t sense it anymore.”

Had it moved beyond a thirty-meter range? Lumian thoughtfully withdrew his gaze.

If what we had just encountered was related to the bird-clawed baby, then my own Omebella bloodline might have been sensed by the other…

Lumian nodded and smiled at Ludwig. “Let’s eat first, nothing’s more important than filling our bellies.”

“Right!” For the first time, Ludwig felt that the godfather’s words resonated deeply with him.

Upon entering St. Millom Restaurant, Lumian immediately noticed Franca and Jenna sitting in a conspicuous spot.

The carefully dressed Demonesses caught Lumian’s attention for an extra second.

Meanwhile, he wondered to himself, Is this the Law of Beyonder Characteristics Convergence?

How coincidental for us to choose the same restaurant…

(Reader note: A reasonable development)

Franca and Jenna, noticing his gaze, looked back at him-one with a mouth agape in surprise, the other stifling a laugh.

They quickly composed themselves and turned their attention back to the beet soup in front of them.

With the waiter’s guidance, Lumian, Ludwig, and Lugano took a seat in the corner.

“Sir, what would you like to order?” The waiter offered a menu designed like a book.

Lumian glanced at it, chose not to browse through, and simply said, “One set of everything but the drinks.”