Chapter 329: The Student
This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation.com.
In the dense darkness of the night, Alice and Vanna found refuge in a secluded corner of an alley, remaining hidden while they awaited further instructions. Their eyes were trained on the surrounding area of the looming building before them. Meanwhile, Duncan and Morris, acting as the advance team, cautiously approached the building’s ominous black door.
The group was enveloped in silence, a natural occurrence given the pre-dawn hours. At this time, the dark veil of night kept most people indoors, where they surrendered to sleep and awaited the dawn of a new day.
The question lingered whether the “clones” returning from their deep sea expedition adhered to the same routines as their ordinary counterparts.
Duncan’s eyes scanned the structure, spotting an unmistakable button nestled within the door frame’s nook. He pressed it twice, and the sharp sound of an electric bell pierced the quiet night.
“Perhaps we should have reconsidered visiting during curfew,” Morris remarked, his voice tinged with uncertainty. He rubbed his forehead anxiously. “If we rouse the neighbors, it might arouse suspicion.”
“Your friend may not have much time left; it’s better to act now,” Duncan responded calmly. “As for drawing attention from the Death Church officials or alarming the city-state authorities – well, that’s part of the life of the stateless. You’ll need to get used to it.”
Morris opened his mouth as if to reply but found himself at a loss for words. As he hesitated, Duncan pressed the doorbell again.
Their persistence was rewarded by the sound of hurried footsteps inside the building, accompanied by the crash of something being knocked over. Moments later, lights flickered on in the living room, casting a warm glow onto the street outside through a nearby window.
The door creaked open just enough to reveal a cautious eye peering out. A young, trembling voice called from behind the door, “Who is it?”
It was clearly a woman’s voice.
Duncan and Morris exchanged surprised glances – Duncan was taken aback, while Morris seemed to be piecing something together.
“Is it Garloni?” Morris ventured, “Is Mr. Scott Brown at home? I’m an old acquaintance of your tutor.”
Whispering to Duncan, he added, “She might be Scott Brown’s apprentice; I recall him mentioning her.”
Duncan nodded in understanding as the woman behind the door seemed to consider Morris’s statement. After a moment’s pause, she cautiously replied, “I apologize for the inconvenience, but it’s very late, and my tutor is currently resting. Can we perhaps continue this conversation at sunrise?”
Morris frowned, the situation unfolding differently than he had anticipated. He hadn’t expected Scott Brown’s apprentice to still be residing at the property six years after his departure. After a moment’s thought, he began to respond, “Unfortunately, we arrived quite late and haven’t secured lodgings – besides, your tutor did invite me in a previous correspondence.”
He paused before continuing, “My name is Morris Underwood. Your tutor would likely have mentioned my name to you.”
The voice on the other side of the door fell silent, as if “Garloni” was deep in thought, trying to recall. A few seconds later, she spoke again, “Then… give me a moment. I’ll remove the chain lock.”
The sound of the lock being undone and the chain sliding against the door added to the night’s symphony of sounds. With the chain removed, the door finally opened wide enough for Duncan to see a figure bathed in the warm light inside.
Garloni stood slightly shorter than Vanna, her height of nearly 1.9 meters making her an imposing figure. Unlike Vanna’s slender frame, this young woman had a muscular build. Her grayish-white skin had a leathery texture, with faint golden patterns beneath the surface.
Despite these unusual, non-human traits, her face bore the features of a typical young woman and even had a delicate air. Awoken from her slumber, this warrior-like figure was clad in a loose nightgown, her brown hair tumbling behind her. Leaning against the door frame, she scrutinized the unfamiliar faces before her with caution.
While Duncan was intrigued by her appearance, Garloni reciprocated the curiosity. To her, Duncan – the imposing figure in a black trench coat and wide-brimmed hat, his face concealed by bandages – was a daunting sight, even for a Frostborn used to “bandages.”
As she tensed, Morris’s voice broke the uneasy silence. Turning to Duncan, he introduced, “This is Garloni, Brown’s apprentice. She’s an orc – a rarity in the northern city-states.”
Facing Garloni, he continued, “This gentleman is Mr. Duncan. He is…”
“Duncan,” Duncan interjected, “I’m an adventurer and a friend of Mr. Morris. My interest in Mr. Scott Brown’s work brought me along. I hope we haven’t caused any inconvenience.”
“… My tutor is resting, and I’m not sure when he’ll wake up. However, he did mention that Mr. Morris might visit,” Garloni replied. Despite her formidable appearance, her voice was soft, hesitant, and almost fearful, lacking confidence. She avoided eye contact with Duncan and Morris as she mumbled, making room for them to enter, “You can come in. It’s cold outside.”
As they entered, Garloni closed the door, restoring silence to the street.
The living room was modest, its furnishings showing signs of age. To one side, the kitchen and dining area seamlessly connected to the main living space, while a staircase leading to the upper floor adorned the other side. Beneath the stairs, a narrow door suggested a basement or wine cellar.
The living room, brightly lit by the electric lamp, held no suspicious shadows or hidden corners. Every visible space seemed inviting and normal.
Neither Duncan nor Morris showed much interest in their surroundings. Under Garloni’s guidance, they found seats in the living room. The tall orc woman then retreated to the kitchen to prepare tea and snacks.
“Would you like sweet pancakes and sausages? That’s all I have at the moment…” Garloni’s apologetic voice called from the kitchen.
“Only a cup of hot water is necessary, no need to trouble yourself,” Morris responded, waving his hand dismissively. He turned to Garloni when she reemerged from the kitchen, casually asking, “Have you been living here all this time?”
“Yes, I’ve been here the whole time,” she nodded, “My tutor was away for a while and left me the keys to look after the place. I moved from my rented apartment and have been living here since. When he returned recently, I stayed to care for him.”
“Away for a while?” Morris echoed, frowning, “When was this?”
“About five or six years ago, I think,” Garloni replied uncertainly, looking embarrassed, “I’m not good at keeping track of time. My tutor often points that out.”
Morris and Duncan exchanged knowing looks.
“When did Mr. Brown return?” Duncan asked casually.
“About a month ago,” Garloni replied, her tone suggesting she viewed the question as casual conversation, “He came back suddenly, saying he was tired from his travels and needed rest… Oh yes, he did mention after his return that he wanted to invite Mr. Morris for a visit.”
“When I received his letter, I was quite surprised,” Morris continued, “I hadn’t heard from him in years. The last communication mentioned a sea voyage… Ah yes, he was to board a small steamship called the ‘Obsidian’?”
As he reminisced, Morris quietly observed Garloni’s reactions.
However, upon hearing the name “Obsidian,” Garloni merely shook her head after a moment’s thought, “I’m not aware of that. He didn’t give many details when he left…”
Her tone and demeanor remained consistent.
Yet, her response seemed off.
She didn’t know which ship her tutor had boarded!
In a typical teacher-student relationship, such an oversight might be excusable. But Garloni’s relationship with the folklorist appeared much deeper. Scott Brown trusted her enough to leave her the keys to his house, and she had been living there for six years, ready to care for him upon his “return.” Given their close and trusting relationship, it seemed unlikely Brown wouldn’t have informed Garloni of his plans when he left.
With a serene and indifferent air, Garloni faced her guests, her demeanor suggesting everything happening was perfectly normal.
Her mind has already received second hand pollution, but it doesn’t seem anything impossible to recover from.
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