When the plot-skips players into the game world

"…Senior Hayna?"

Aiwass was somewhat surprised, "What a coincidence?"

He did indeed know that Hayna came from a small place, and it was probably a town where commerce wasn't very developed.

The best evidence was that she didn't wear makeup, and she also hardly knew anything about skincare or how to dress.

Hayna was sought after by many classmates solely because she had a good foundation. Her usual attire consisted merely of a light brown shirt paired with a brown leather vest. The only thing that could be considered jewelry was a leather wristband embroidered with a diamond pattern.

—Not to mention for a girl, even boys wouldn't go out dressed like this nowadays. It was more like something a mercenary or an explorer from hundreds of years ago would wear in a remote area.

But to his surprise, his own biological father, Julio, also came from that place.

"It's not a coincidence..."

Sherlock's pupils were lifeless, his complexion even a bit pale. He staggered over to the table and started rummaging for the honey jar: "Where's the honey...?"

"Are you hypoglycemic, Sherlock?"

Mrs. Mina was the first to react, pouring Sherlock a cup of somewhat warm red tea, and then adding several spoonfuls of honey into it.

Sherlock downed it in one go, letting out a deep breath, then collapsed into the chair. No one else spoke; they just looked up, silently watching him without moving.

After a good while, he finally recovered.

Sherlock leaned back, subconsciously reaching for the pocket on his chest—there should have been a pocket there, containing his cigar or cigarettes. But now, he only grasped at emptiness.

"Why are you all staring at me like this?"

He said coldly, as if to alleviate the awkwardness.

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Observing this familiar behavior, Aiwass was sure that he had indeed recovered.

"I believe you might be in need of some warm brandy, Mr. Sherlock?"

Bishop Mathers asked.

"Thank you very much," Sherlock, who normally didn't drink, unexpectedly didn't refuse, "If possible, please give me some biscuits as well."

Just one cup of honey tea could only awaken him as a person but wasn't enough to bring him into his usual state of high-intensity thinking.

Mrs. Mina nodded, "I'll get them immediately."

"Bishop," said the man with the disheveled black hair, asking with a voice that was dreamy and airy, "do you smoke?"

"Thank you, I don't."

Bishop Mathers answered calmly, "Besides, you shouldn't either. The Illumination Art's healing isn't without side effects. It burns away the pain inside you, what fills the void is but false light. Your body needs to operate on its own, to replenish and recover the deficit."

"I know, damn it. I mean… never mind…"

Sherlock was somewhat annoyed, his speech still a bit garbled: "I can drink alcohol, but not smoke. That's nonsensical…"

"Of course," asserted Bishop Mathers in his rhythmic voice that rose and fell like the recitation of a scripture, "The main reason is that I simply dislike people smoking. Especially in my house—I am sensitive to the smell of smoke; it makes me sneeze."

"Alright, I respect your habits, Archbishop Your Excellency… Thank you, Mrs. Mina."

Sherlock took the biscuits from Mrs. Mina.

With a gentle voice, Mina explained, "The brandy is being warmed; you eat some biscuits to fill your stomach first."

"Thank you," Sherlock said softly, "This is sufficient. Consuming too much sugar in a short time can also cause dizziness."

While crunching on the biscuits, he slowly began to explain to Aiwass: "I have previously researched you and Hayna. She came to Royal Law University because she once knew your grandfather.

"Your grandfather was named Jacob, a poet who was not very famous and was also a children's author and novelist. A long time ago, he was a local reporter in charge of 'The Cattle and Bay'—the newspaper distributed in Shepherd Bay County. When he was a reporter, Jacob came into contact with many Transcendents, and he even experienced first-hand the formation of the precursor to the 'Noble Red'."

"Noble Red?"

Hearing the familiar term, Aiwass furrowed his brow and repeated softly.

Mr. Sherlock let out a scoff subconsciously, "You might not believe this... but the original Noble Red Society was just an organization where some illegal Transcendents beyond the Path gathered together to keep each other warm. Back then, they didn't go by that name, but were called 'Hand of the Scaleless,' meaning 'those without armor.'

"At that time, Her Majesty Sofia had not yet ascended the throne, and the King was still Tudor III."

As he spoke, his tone gradually became sharper and clearer, "He was called 'The Execution King' by the people. During the reign of Tudor III, the most notorious creation was 'Execution Square.' The entire square was filled with executed people, and there were many more gallows than there are today.

"Usually, the executed criminals should be hung to show the public after death, but during the Tudor era, there were even times when there weren't enough — the criminals executed that day had to be taken down to make room for the ones that followed.

"At that time, other types of capital punishment had not yet been abolished, and hanging was merely one among many. According to the laws of Avalon, capital punishment required the signature of the King or Queen before it could be carried out. And the laws established by Tudor III were extremely harsh—stealing more than fourteen Red Candles would be enough to be sentenced to death—a number that did not even amount to a single White Crown.

"Because this standard was so low, many judges would alter the testimonies of the criminals to a theft of 13 Red Candles and 9 Copper Hourglasses, to avoid having too many executions. Ironically, this amount of theft would only result in ten days of detention. After the thief's detention was over, the judges would immediately send them back to prison, making up the shortfall in the theft amount—essentially splitting the original stolen sum into multiple detentions."

"That's indeed the case,"

Bishop Mathers nodded, "I remember a joke that was popular when I was a child: A thief was told by the judge, 'You shall be sentenced to eleven days in detention,' and the thief cried bitterly, begging the judge for mercy because he did not want to die. Confused, the judge asked, 'It's just eleven days of detention, why so dramatic?'"

"And then what?" Aiwass asked with interest.

By his age, that joke was no longer heard.

The bishop smiled and continued with vivid expression, "The thief said, 'You must be new to your position. Everyone knows that our King can only count to ten; any more than that and he becomes frantic to kill someone.' There's also a joke about the bishop and the king: The bishop advised the king to befriend our friends and to cut off our enemies. The King nodded."

"'Thank you for your teachings, for I have always done so, and to this day I no longer have any enemies,' the King said devoutly, 'They have all been killed by me.'"

"…Sounds like quite the tyrant."

Aiwass criticized sharply.

His comment didn't really conform to the rules of Avalon. But among those present, the only one who had walked the Path of Authority, Mr. Sherlock, did not hold any official title, so no one had any objections.

Mr. Sherlock even nodded, agreeing, "That's why we praise Her Majesty Sofia. The many policies she improved after her accession greatly eased the tense atmosphere in Avalon. Conversely, it was also due to people's discontent with the former king that they fervently supported Her Majesty."

"Without such a foundation, it would have been difficult for Her Majesty to initiate so many reforms in such a short time, and she certainly would have faced significant political resistance,"

"Nevertheless," Bishop Mathers added, "there were still many who harbored resentment towards the monarchy."

"The Noble Red Society was a product of that period."

As Sherlock spoke, he reached out to Mrs. Mina and accepted a cup of hot wine.

"I thought you 'never drink alcohol,' Mr. Sherlock?"

Aiwass raised an eyebrow.

Mr. Sherlock nodded, "I don't consider alcohol a beverage, it only harms my brain. But I'll drink a cup of warm brandy when I'm feeling unwell, as if it's a kind of medicine."

"I guess you woke up with a headache this morning? It should be quite effective for treatment. I've added plenty of apple juice, along with cinnamon, ginger slices, and lemon peel. In addition to reinvigorating you, it should also help ward off the cold; you got slightly chilled yesterday..."

Mrs. Mina said gently in a soft voice, "If it had been simmered a bit longer, it would have been even better. But it should still taste good now."

"Praise be to you, Mrs. Mina."

Mr. Sherlock bowed his head solemnly in gratitude, smiling and flattering her skills, "I could smell the aroma from afar. The man who marries you is indeed very lucky."

"Indeed, pursuing Mina was my stroke of luck,"

Bishop Mathers smiled self-satisfied, "I'm very happy every single day... I truly hope it can continue like this forever."

And Aiwass pressed on, "What happened next, Mr. Sherlock? How did that informal organization of Transcendents turn into the Noble Red?" Continue reading stories on empire

"It seems you already know about the Star Antimony people behind the Noble Red Society... and I guess Edward didn't tell you who the high ranks of the Noble Red Society are. Let me tell you then, you should know by now."

Mr. Sherlock raised an eyebrow and, after taking a sip of the hot apple wine, said softly, "Your grandfather Jacob was a Transcendent who practiced the Path of the Curse Ritual Magician. He once was a member of 'Hand of the Scaleless.'

"—What?"

Upon hearing this, Aiwass's eyes widened in shock.

"Is that so?"

Bishop Mathers, too, was quite surprised, "Curse Ritual Magician... I haven't heard of this profession in a long time."