Chapter 337

Chapter 337: Guest

The Old Caretaker did not like days when the snow kept falling. It was not only because the cold made his already overworked joints ache, but also because this kind of snowy day always reminded him of things from long ago.

Things that were not very good.

Like the rebellion fifty years ago. Like the great freeze thirty years ago. Like the huge collapse in the southern district seventeen years ago. When it snowed this hard, it was never a good sign.

The old man rubbed his hands together and looked back at the cemetery, which was also buried under snow.

Snow blurred the edges of the cemetery paths. On the white ground, only footprints traced the route to the morgue and the Warden’s hut. The gas lamps had gone out. The dark lamp posts stood in the snow like dead tree trunks, looking very lonely.

Several steam cars were parked on the open ground in the cemetery, already buried in snow. The black-clad Guardians were struggling to clear the snow off the cars and trying to open a path through the drifts wide enough for the vehicles to pass. They looked quite bedraggled.

They had to finish before the snow froze hard and the road became even harder to clear.

A gust of howling wind swept past. Gray smoke rushed in with it, and Agatha’s figure stepped out of the wind and smoke. The young Gatekeeper came to stand beside the Old Caretaker and said: “Half the people will withdraw today. Only two squads will stay behind to help you ward the cemetery.”

“They could all leave, for all I care. Then I could have some peace.” The Old Caretaker lifted his eyelids and glanced at the Gatekeeper. “Keeping so many people here is a waste.”

“It is not a waste of manpower. And you do not need to worry that I am short on people.”

“I am not that free that I would worry about you,” the Old Caretaker grumbled. Then, as if casually, he added: “You sent an elite squad out in the second half of the night. Did something happen in the city?”

Agatha looked at the old man: “You still care about things outside the cemetery?”

“I’m just asking. Say it or not, as you like.” The Old Caretaker shrugged.

“…There was trouble on Hearth Street. A battle broke out between high-level supernatural individuals, and the disturbance was not small. The patrolling Guardians hurried there but arrived too late,” Agatha said slowly. “Right now we can only be sure that one side in the fight were Annihilators. They died very miserably, and one of them died in a bizarre way that does not fit any supernatural power we know of.”

The Old Caretaker’s eyebrows clearly twitched, and his tone grew more serious: “Hearth Street?”

“…Don’t worry. No innocent citizens were hurt,” Agatha said. She seemed to know what he was worried about. “But from the squad’s report, there is more than one strange clue there. I may have to go there myself to see what is happening.”

The Old Caretaker said nothing, only nodded lightly, but his eyes had already become serious.

Agatha was a young Gatekeeper, but even so, her title as Gatekeeper had been earned through strict training and harsh trials. As the Church’s highest representative in the city-state, her actions alone showed how serious and urgent a situation was.

The situation on Hearth Street was probably not as calm and simple as her current tone made it sound. It was definitely more than a single supernatural fight. An elite Guardian squad had gone to investigate, and in the end the Gatekeeper herself had to go handle it. It was no small matter.

But that was something outside the cemetery, not something a retired Gravekeeper like him should pay attention to.

Let the young Gatekeeper and Guardians deal with it.

After quite a bit of effort, the Guardians finally cleared away the snow and started the steam cores of the cars. Two dark gray steam cars drove out of the cemetery and soon disappeared down the path toward the city blocks.

The Old Caretaker watched the two cars leave, shook his head, and got ready to go back into the cemetery.

But just as he was about to turn around, he caught sight of a small, familiar figure at the end of the path out of the corner of his eye.

A little girl in a thick coat was walking toward the cemetery with some effort.

The Old Caretaker stopped at once. He watched the little figure walk closer, his face looking a bit angry. The little figure also saw the old man standing at the cemetery gate. She stopped by the roadside, lifted her face, and waved her arms happily, then kept trudging toward him, sinking deep with every step.

At last, she reached the tire tracks left by the two steam cars that had just departed, and her steps finally became a little easier. She bent down to pat the snow off the hem of her coat and the legs of her pants, then came to the cemetery gate and grinned up at the old man, whose face was stern and even a bit angry.

“Grandpa Caretaker, I’m here again!” Annie greeted the Old Caretaker happily.

Today she wore a thick white coat and matching white boots, with a white knit hat on her head. She almost seemed about to melt into the snow-covered city around her.

“You came out in this weather, and to a place like this!” The Old Caretaker glared, his tone very stern. “You’ll make your family worry.”

“I told my mother I’d be back soon today,” Annie said with a smile, her face red from the cold. “School is on break. I wanted to go play with my friends, but none of them wanted to go out, so I came to see you!”

“…Staying at home like your friends would still be better than running to the cemetery when the roads are buried in snow.” The old man’s tone was cold and hard. “The cemetery is closed today. There is too much snow inside. Go home.”

But the girl acted as if she had not heard. She only craned her neck to look past the old man, then lifted her face with hope: “My dad…”

“He didn’t come,” the old man said bluntly. “In weather this bad, even if there really were a burial planned, it would be postponed.”

Annie froze for a moment, but she did not look very disappointed. She pressed her lips together: “Then… I’ll come ask again when the weather is better… He will come someday, right?”

The Old Caretaker quietly gazed into the child’s eyes. For a brief second or two, he even felt a touch of regret, regret that six years ago he had made that promise to this child, that “your father will come back here”. In the end, his heart back then had still been a little too soft.

After a silence that felt very long, the old man finally spoke: “…Maybe, someday in the future, you will hear news of him.”

That was already as gentle as he could make it.

A twelve-year-old child should have understood those words by now.

Annie blinked and let a small smile appear on her face. Then she reached into the little bag she carried with her and took out a small package, which she handed to the old man.

“More biscuits?” The Old Caretaker raised his eyebrows.

“It’s ginger tea powder. I helped my mother make it, and we added herbs to drive out the cold and warm your stomach!” Annie said proudly. She stuffed the packet into his hand before he could refuse. “You are always guarding the cemetery all by yourself, and now it’s snowing again. It must be very cold at night, right?”

The old man looked at the thing in his hand.

He did not need it. The potion supplies that the Church gave the cemetery Warden were ten times more effective than this. His Warden’s hut, which looked so flimsy, was actually filled with protective runes and special materials. It could block far more than a bit of cold wind. Even if a runaway state really broke out in the cemetery, that little house could stand like a steel fortress and hold back the shock from outside.

“Thank you.” He accepted Annie’s gift. Maybe he had not smiled for too long, because the curve at the corner of his mouth looked a bit stiff. “This will be very useful to me.”

Then, right after that, his expression turned cold again.

“I’ve taken your gift. Now hurry home, and try not to go out these next few days.”

“Why?”

“…The city hasn’t been safe lately,” the Old Caretaker said seriously. He thought of what Agatha had just told him and of the supernatural incident on Hearth Street last night. “Go back and tell your mother to go out less in the near future. If anything feels wrong, ask the nearest Cathedral or Constable for help. Annie, this is very serious. Do you remember it?”

Annie seemed startled by the old man’s suddenly stern tone. She froze for a moment, then hurriedly nodded: “I… I remember.”

“Good. Then go home,” the old man said with a sigh, clearly dismissing her. “While it’s still…”

He lifted his head, and the second half of his sentence cut off.

Some time, a very tall, broad-shouldered figure had appeared near the cemetery gate and was now looking this way. The figure wore a long black coat and a wide-brimmed hat. Bandages wrapped the face, hiding every detail of the body under cloth and hat.

Beside that towering figure stood another person, a petite lady in a rich dark purple long dress. Her golden hair fell like a waterfall. She wore a soft hat, and a veil covered her face so her features could not be seen, yet she gave off an air of elegance and mystery.

But almost all of the Old Caretaker’s attention was on the tall, broad-shouldered figure. He stared in that direction, his eyes feeling as if some invisible force had pinned them in place. A faint noise began to thrum in his mind, and tiny shakes and distortions appeared at the edges of his vision. These were clear signs that his mind was being lightly corrupted and disturbed.

The experienced Old Caretaker realized at once what was happening. It was that “Visitor”.

Because he had met this unspeakable guest many times, and had once fallen into madness under the influence of incense, he had formed a certain link with the other party.

But this was only a shallow and almost harmless link, so the Old Caretaker did not lose the ability to act as badly as before.

He could still move. So he reached out and pulled Annie behind him.

“Child, don’t look over there.”