When they left the inn, not a single one of the foreign travelers had risen early.
It was still quite early.
As someone accustomed to sleeping until the sun warmed her backside, Konehl-Ghervil felt a distinct unfamiliarity with the early hour.
Her current state was her normal, unmedicated self, as she was within a dream.
This led her to wonder if her narcolepsy was worsening.
She recalled learning from her conversation with Govet-Ghervil that Dr. Callan, sensing trouble, had administered the Nightmare Revelation to her on the spot.
Her physical body in reality was in a ‘catatonic’ state.
Theoretically, her condition should not be deteriorating.
Yet, the fact that she could comprehend the words on the paper seemed to contradict that theory.
‘It would be fortunate if the potion in my satchel hasn’t been lost; I could try it within this dream,’ she mused.
After a moment of confused thought, she decided not to dwell on it, focusing instead on following the person leading the way.
The destination was not far, reached after merely ten minutes of walking.
The Mayor’s private residence stood at the highest point in the center of the oasis.
It resembled a small defensive castle, with rammed earth walls a meter thick.
Farmlands and date palm groves encircled it, while a ring of ordinary residents’ homes formed its outer perimeter.
Watchtowers were positioned to observe the surrounding area.
The reception room was on the first floor.
After waiting for nearly forty minutes, the old man slowly descended the stairs, leaning on a servant for support.
Clad in a silk dressing gown and yawning, he was clearly fresh from slumber.
“Why have you brought them here, Sali?”
The old man’s voice carried both languor and impatience.
His serene dream disturbed, he was clearly not in the best of moods.
“You know I wouldn’t lie, Mayor Genipa-Berber.”
Sali stood and bowed slightly.
“Therefore, I ask that you reconsider.”
“That mad dog Sausy-Alamany still hasn’t been caught; he escaped again last night.”
The old man grumbled as he settled onto the sofa beside Konehl-Ghervil, turning his gaze to the young woman.
“All because I wasted time listening to you recount some irrelevant, alarmist nonsense.”
“And you are?” He rubbed his temples, deep in thought.
“Mayor!” Sali stood, displeased by the old man’s dismissive behavior.
“You can simply call me Govet-Ghervil; she is Esli,” Konehl-Ghervil replied calmly.
“I remember now, I remember! You’re the nun, and she’s the knight.”
“Sali, you ought to get me some amnesia medicine. I truly forgot. At the time, I thought they were charlatans and didn’t listen very closely.”
“Do you still think so now?”
Konehl-Ghervil met his gaze, his eyes narrowed to slits.
Stretching his neck in a circle, the old man instructed the servant beside him:
“Prepare some breakfast, for four.”
“We’ve already eaten, before coming. Please answer Sister Govet-Ghervil’s question.”
The old man ignored Sali.
“Then make it for one.”
“I had assumed you were a sagacious mayor.”
Konehl-Ghervil’s sarcasm drew a glare from the servant who had just turned to leave, causing him to halt.
“Do you know why there’s no Goddess’s church here?”
The old man raised a hand, stopping the servant.
“Because you don’t worship the Goddess?”
Such situations did exist, Konehl-Ghervil recalled learning from books left by the Abbess at her home.
In some remote tribes, the influence of The Order struggled to reach.
These people either did not believe in gods at all, or they worshipped animals and nature.
Such places were often sparsely populated.
The probability of plague arising when the Mistfall descended was significantly lower there.
Should they be unfortunate enough to be afflicted, they would resort to other methods of coping.
They couldn’t, like those in places with Holy Bells, enter dreams to receive the Goddess’s protection.
“If you travel northeast from here, you’ll reach the forbidden lands, where the people most in need of the Goddess reside—the Plague Knights. We’ve chanced upon the tragic state of uncontrolled knights; only utter fools would abandon their faith in the Goddess.”
‘The people most in need of the Goddess…’
She had never heard such a statement before.
Konehl-Ghervil looked questioningly at the female knight beside her.
“You didn’t know? One of our primary methods for suppressing our own plague is dream-walking (TL Note: A spiritual practice where individuals enter a dream-like state to seek divine guidance or exert influence, often used in this world to combat plague).”
Esli looked astonished.
“Although it’s not effective many times, if successful, even knights on the brink of losing control can save their lives.”
Konehl-Ghervil suddenly understood.
‘I can’t believe I hadn’t thought of something so simple.’
Dream-walking during the Long Night was initially for plague prevention, and every knight suffered from the plague; if it could prevent it, then suppressing it was only logical.
“Burdurka Town is the safest place in the desert. The Mistfall and Long Night here don’t cause plague, so there’s no need for a church or a Holy Bell.”
The old man puffed out his chest as he spoke, brimming with pride.
“Without plague, whether you are a nun or a knight is inconsequential, both to me and to this town.”
“The oasis provides ample resources, and we live in prosperity. There’s no reason for the guards who leave here to engage in harmful deeds.”
“The truth is, it has already happened; I experienced it firsthand, including the gunshot wound on my foot—”
“I know, Sali.”
The old man cut the doctor off.
“I’ve already sent people to investigate. At the very least, I believe Theodore-Dubois and the others didn’t act voluntarily. Time will reveal the truth.”
Silence descended.
On the surface, everyone seemed convinced by the old man.
Konehl-Ghervil fell into contemplation.
She had not forgotten the warning written on the paper.
If the person to be wary of was the Mayor, then everything he said should be regarded with suspicion.
Just for a moment, a town where the Mistfall and Long Night didn’t cause plague… she yearned to believe it, but the harsh reality was that the town had completely vanished from the desert.
Not only that, but only three members of the expedition sent before its disappearance had returned.
‘Could it truly still be considered safe…?’
No one spoke. The old man summoned a servant to hand him a cane.
“I do not have the habit of discussing matters during meals. If you have further questions, I can take you to a place after we finish eating.”
With that, he leaned on his cane and left the reception room.
“I should have known this would happen; the old man has always been stubborn.”
Disregarding the possibility of servants outside, Sali openly voiced his complaints.
Sali, sensing the gaze of the only two remaining in the room, explained with a smile.
“He doesn’t care about such trifles; everyone in town knows, as long as it’s not too outrageous.”
“Yet, you are the only one I’ve seen actually do it.”
Konehl-Ghervil recalled the respectful, silent demeanor of the men the old man had scolded.
“I lost my parents when I was young; it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say the Mayor raised me…”
‘So, their relationship is more like granddaughter and grandfather?’
That would certainly explain it.
Konehl-Ghervil continued her inquiry, subtly nudging Esli’s waist with her elbow, hoping to prompt her to change the subject.
“Didn’t you eat enough breakfast?” she whispered into Esli’s ear.
“…”
‘Indeed, she’s not as good at cooperating as Valo-Ramsey.’
But she couldn’t be blamed.
‘Not everyone can be as astute as him.’
After a brief silence, Konehl-Ghervil rose and moved to the opposite sofa, settling back down with her robe gathered around her.
“Dr. Sali, I wish to know if what the Mayor said about the plague is true.”
“It is true.”
Sali nodded gently.
“This situation only arose in recent years, without any warning. The Order sent people to investigate, but they returned empty-handed.”
“Given it’s a town of merely two thousand people, it didn’t receive much attention. As the inhabitants gradually ceased to be troubled by the Mistfall, The Order quietly removed the town’s only Holy Bell, and the church naturally fell into disuse.”
It sounded perfectly logical.
Yet, Konehl-Ghervil quickly perceived an anomaly within this narrative.
‘Logically, shouldn’t The Order have dispatched more personnel to investigate a place like this?’
‘Unaffected by the Mistfall, incapable of generating plague.’
Such news would be nothing short of revolutionary.
No organization, upon learning of this, would simply ignore it, merely sending a symbolic expedition team annually.
‘Indeed, the expedition team’s true objective might not even be the town itself.’
Just as she pondered what else to ask, the door was pushed open by a male servant in a long robe.
“The Mayor is ready. He awaits you outside.”