Martin’s Secrets and Juneburg’s Unease

‘Of course, I already know it’s an alchemical item; otherwise, why would I have called for alchemist craftsmen to assist?’

Iordera pondered for a moment before posing another question.

“Is that all you know?”

“You’ve interacted with Martin, haven’t you? What kind of person do you find him to be?”

Poli, clasping his hands, replied, “Well, I don’t know him intimately, but to be frank, Martin is quite formidable.”

Iordera raised an eyebrow.

“How exactly is he formidable?”

“You see, every time he appears, things go rather smoothly, don’t they? He’s far more articulate than I am,” Poli explained.

“Before the upheaval in Juneburg, the Lord’s relationship with various associations was quite amicable.”

“When the Witch fell from power, it was Martin himself who personally approached the Mage Association, convincing them to temporarily leave Juneburg and avoid the impending storm.”

“Martin personally persuaded the Mage Association to leave?” Iordera exclaimed, a hint of surprise in her voice.

“What about the Alchemist Association? Did he persuade them too?”

“The Alchemist Association was a different matter entirely,” Poli said, spreading his hands.

“The old会长 (TL Note: here meaning ‘president’ or ‘head’) was quite reluctant to step down, believing himself to be upright and seeing no reason to relinquish his post.”

“But that was impossible; he only had himself to blame for his past missteps.”

“What did he say wrong?”

Poli tilted his head, pondering for a moment.

“Cairns, the former head of the Alchemist Association, once represented the local alchemists in the Imperial Capital to attend the Witch’s lectures.”

“Upon his return, he publicly declared that the Witch’s teachings had profoundly helped him, holding epoch-making significance, and he was willing to call her his teacher.”

He chuckled at this point.

“But who could have known that a few years later, the Witch would be personally overthrown by The Guardian and imprisoned right here?”

“Cairns insisted he was not mistaken, claiming his words were merely about academic study, devoid of any other meaning.”

“After the Witch’s downfall, he declared he had severed all ties with her, but it was already too late; he only had himself to blame for not thinking clearly before speaking.”

Iordera suddenly realized something.

“This Cairns you speak of, he must be very knowledgeable about alchemical items, mustn’t he?”

“Knowledgeable? He certainly is,” Poli affirmed.

“Cairns served in Juneburg for so many years that he personally participated in the creation of every significant alchemical product in the city.”

“However, ever since he was forced to resign, he’s locked himself away at home, refusing to see outsiders.”

“A grumpy old man with a terrible temper, you understand.”

Iordera’s nascent idea immediately cooled.

It seemed he was not someone easily deceived, and apparently quite stubborn, refusing to give face to anyone.

As for Hecate’s influence, that was even less likely to work; the old man had been implicated and removed from his position for a few careless words, so his resentment must be immense.

When someone so obstinate declares they’ve severed ties with you, they truly mean it.

Iordera instantly felt a pang of disappointment.

“You, a renowned bard who has written so much for the Lord, know only this much?”

“Oh, we bards are like this by nature; we don’t need to understand everything completely to write,” Poli whispered.

“Grasping the general gist is enough; the rest we simply make up ourselves.”

As he spoke, a sense of pride swelled within him.

“Just like my bestseller, ‘Chronicles of the Sword-Picker,’ I never witnessed that battle; I fabricated the entire thing.”

Iordera raised an eyebrow.

“You wrote it so meticulously without seeing it? You invented all the details?”

“Of course, it’s all made up; who *doesn’t* make things up?” Poli lowered his voice.

“Many years ago, the people who wrote the earliest records probably made them up too.”

Iordera didn’t quite grasp his meaning.

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean is, that battle, or even whether that young person ever existed, is uncertain,” Poli said, spreading his hands.

“The entire story might have been fabricated by Martin’s ancestors, commissioned to be written.”

“But it doesn’t matter; nobody cares.”

Iordera’s mouth twitched.

“So many people in the city care…”

“Those people aren’t important; who with any standing truly cares?” Poli’s eyes darted about before he suddenly leaned closer, speaking in the quietest whisper.

“Little miss, let me tell you a secret: my bestseller was actually commissioned by the Lord himself.”

“Such a thing exists?”

“He didn’t come personally, but the one who approached me for the commission was indeed sent by the Lord,” Poli told her.

“Of course, he would never admit to such a thing.”

Iordera pouted her small lips in disdain.

‘This Lord Martin certainly plays his cards well.’

“Little miss, seeing as I’ve been so cooperative, regarding Sir Olcott’s side of things,” Poli said, rubbing his hands together.

“Could you perhaps put in a good word for me…?”

“You want authorization from the Royal Knights to write a book, don’t you?” Iordera stated, rising to her feet.

“We’ll see about that if the opportunity arises; I’m leaving now.”

“Oh, but…”

Poli didn’t have a chance to offer more flattery before the white-haired loli swiftly departed.

“Ah, what a truly imposing figure she is,” Poli lamented.

****

After leaving Poli’s home, Iordera walked along the main street, unable to suppress a sigh.

On the surface, she had gleaned much information from Poli, yet it was too fragmented, lacking any truly crucial details.

Iordera currently cared for nothing else, only the Lord’s final plan, to ascertain whether Andrew and the others were in danger.

With the clues now exhausted, she found herself at a loss for what to do.

Life seemed to have reverted to normal, and Iordera once again adopted her sullen demeanor.

She longed to accomplish something, yet remained unsure of how to proceed.

Returning to the cell to deliver meals and perform cleaning, she found Hecate seated nearby, silently observing her.

Since asking that perplexing question last time, Hecate had uttered nothing further.

At times, Iordera wished Hecate would say something, anything, even misleading information, just to provide a sense of direction.

Alas, Hecate truly remained silent.

Time crept by, and only three days remained until the Lord’s plan was due to be completed.

Few people were visible on the streets anymore, as an alchemical device capable of broadcasting sound, much like a loudspeaker, played Martin’s voice.

“My dear townsfolk, only three days remain; please hold on, for I am with you!”

‘Pah, you’re the one who caused all this.’

Iordera wandered aimlessly through the streets; the commercial district was mostly shut down, and she couldn’t even find a place to buy a loaf of bread.

It wasn’t hunger that drove her, but a profound emptiness, a desire to simply do something, anything.

After traversing three streets, she actually stumbled upon an open shop.

“Owner, a toasted bread, please!”

“Coming right up!”

The customer’s voice was tender, and the reply was equally so.

Iordera stood on her tiptoes to peek, discovering another loli, similarly on tiptoes behind the counter, laboriously arranging bread.

“Little sister, where are your parents?” Iordera asked curiously.

“My mom and dad are loading goods in the back; I’m just minding the shop for a bit,” the little loli behind the counter replied.

Iordera couldn’t help but frown.

“The city isn’t safe right now; you shouldn’t be standing here, it’s too dangerous.”

“I’m just helping out, Big Sister; aren’t you doing the same?” the little loli said, blinking her eyes.

‘Well, now, it seemed she considered Iordera one of her own—after all, who wasn’t a sensible loli helping adults with their errands?’