Free Web NovelChapter 173: Night Call [ 2 ]
They stepped into a vast marble hall where twin serpentine staircases rose from a floor veiled in drifting mist. Their intricately carved railings twisted upwards like the roots of some ancient tree reaching towards the heavens.
Above them, the structure opened into an immense atrium reminiscent of a cathedral. Layer upon layer of arches, galleries, and vaulted ceilings stretched into the distance, fading into shafts of pale silver light pouring through towering windows far overhead.
Leomaris and Erloice paused to take it all in.
He wasn’t surprised to find Erloice just as captivated as he was. The appearance of the hall was said to change with every Night Call, reshaping itself to suit the chosen theme. This time, however, it was the shadows that dominated the space. Grey fog lingered everywhere.
The lower levels, where they stood, were just as cloaked in mist as the floors above. Tracing where it came from, it filtered through the silver glow of the windows, meaning the stained glass harnessed the moon’s shadow to conjure the fog.
Figures moved within the haze.
Voices floated through the mist, soft conversations, quiet laughter, and the occasional clink of raised glasses. The atmosphere carried an odd warmth, as though everyone gathered beneath the vaulted ceilings was old friends reunited after years apart.
For a moment, there was something unsettling about standing in a place where the mist obscured every clear line of sight, but the feeling soon faded.
A servant emerged from the haze and politely gestured towards a gathering to their right.
Without objection, the Jester of the End and his attendant followed.
Erloice said quietly.
"I believe it’s time for the Night Call’s theme to be announced, sir. Most people already know what it is, but the formal announcement is part of the tradition."
Leomaris gave a small nod, though his attention was elsewhere.
Several eyes lingered on them as they moved through the crowd.
Some recognised him, or at least believed they did. Others appeared more intrigued by the simple fact that someone had been permitted to enter the hall wearing a mask. Or perhaps, it was his unholy presence.
None of that concerned him.
What troubled him was the sensation he had felt inside the carriage.
That faint, crawling awareness of being watched had remained with him right up until the moment he stepped into the hall.
At first, he had assumed Caelus had stationed people to monitor him. Now the idea made little sense. Why continue watching him once he had already arrived?
The thoughts weighed on his mind longer than he’d have preferred. Could it be an ambush? An entirely different predicament altogether? Or perhaps antagonists he was already familiar with?
’Could it be them? The Crimson Order? Could they have known I’d be here tonight?’
He immediately dismissed the notion.
’No. The hall isn’t careless enough to leak information like that... is it?’
Given their pursuit of Le Mythe des Quatre, Leomaris was convinced the Sovereign was an Archmage who had yet to become a Philosopher. Someone desperate enough to seek forbidden knowledge in pursuit of that next step.
He ran a hand lightly through his hair.
’They may not know I’m Leomaris, but they certainly believe the Jester of the End killed their people... stay alert, Leo. Even if they’re here, they can’t openly move against you.’
Just as he forced himself to set the matter aside, something in the distance stole every fragment of his attention.
A figure moved upon the podium ahead.
Golden armour gleamed through the mist, its polished surface catching the silver light as though it had a radiance of its own. Dunvol, the War God.
Leomaris stopped dead.
Not a trace of Dunvol’s aura slipped out of place, yet sweat rapidly gathered beneath his mask.
For weeks, that name had repeatedly surfaced in his life. Just when he had finally begun thinking of him less, Dunvol now stood directly before him.
His throat tightened. The mask spared him from revealing anything... he was grateful for it.
The figure on the podium scarcely looked human.
The armour enclosed him completely. There were no visible gaps, no openings for air, not even around the eyes. Looking at him for too long gave Leomaris the disturbing impression that the armour wasn’t being worn at all. It looked as though the armour itself was alive.
He had no proof, only instinct.
Still, he found it impossible to believe any ordinary human could spend decades sealed inside such a shell. Dunvol was more than a century old. If Leomaris had to guess, the armour was a unique artifact sustaining its wearer long beyond a natural lifespan.
The thought only deepened his caution.
Anything capable of preserving a man for over a hundred years was almost certainly capable of granting terrifying power as well.
And that was more than enough reason to avoid provoking the monster standing before him.
"Welcome to the 129th Night Call, ladies and gentlemen. The Seniors’ Jade Hall is honoured to host you this evening."
Frowning, Leomaris wondered if he’d heard them correctly. Those words bore none of the hallmarks of an elderly man’s speech, rather, they sounded like the utterances of a young, vigorous figure with the cunning and mellifluous voice to ensnare women.
’Is he doing that for the sake of the hall, or does he genuinely sound like that?... eh, if it is, then this is bad.’
He’d anticipated a formidable, intimidating tone, something befitting the enigmatic mysteries surrounding the man, but that wasn’t what he received. The man sounded like an impeccably trained idol.
Even so, naivety wasn’t his forte. He wasn’t going to be deceived, nor was he going to underestimate the man’s prowess based on something as deceptive as his voice.
"I will take this opportunity to remind you of something Inspector Soren said during our last encounter: ’The devil doesn’t bargain,’ he said."
Those words were enough to draw laughter from a few of the surrounding aristocrats, but Leomaris genuinely didn’t understand a thing. Everything uttered felt as though it had been deliberately cloaked in proverbs, orchestrated exclusively for those with the acuity to decipher it.
Even after the theme was announced, Leomaris remained entirely oblivious, and judging by Erloice’s composure, she fully expected him to understand. All the more reason not to seek her counsel.
When Dunvol uttered his final words, the night was met with a toast, and in its aftermath, a servant approached Leomaris and Erloice.
"You are required upstairs, Jester of the End."
He bowed slightly.
"Would you mind following me?"
