The nearest town to Bayek was calledDuder, a relatively bustling settlement where nearly every essential facility could be found—schools, a governing hall, a constabulary, factories, and more.
Carriages clattered past over the cobblestones, and men and women in garments that betrayed their social station at a glance navigated the thoroughfares. The rows of ornate, almost doll-like edifices lining the streets lent the town a dreamlike quality that left Glenn momentarily dazed.
Compared to the sepulchral quiet of Bayek, this felt like an entirely different dimension.
Although the original owner’s memories contained such images, experiencing the vibrancy in person stirred something altogether different within him.
Why does it seem more congested than usual today? Has something occurred?
Glenn quickly adjusted, noting the anomaly without excessive surprise; those same inherited memories informed him that such crowds often gathered when a traveling circus arrived or a festival was underway.
Such frivolities, however, held little appeal to him.
He purchased a meager selection of vegetables from several stalls. When the transaction was concluded, a mere two copper coins remained in his pocket.
I will need to devise a way to earn coin…
Arms laden with parcels, Glenn retraced his steps with a light tread.
Suddenly, he reached out instinctively, steadying a young boy who had nearly stumbled headlong into the dirt.
“Thank you, sir,” the boy said earnestly, righting himself.
Glenn inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment.
At that moment, another voice called out from nearby.
“Meyer, you need not be in such a rush. Berin is right there—you will see him soon enough.”
Glenn turned his head to see five youths approaching with bright smiles—three boys and two girls. The speaker was a tall boy among them.
“But that is the Great Knight who once defeated a third-rank vampire! I have only ever heard our teacher speak of him. Do you not want to see him as quickly as possible?”
Meyer glanced shyly toward one of the girls in the group—a golden-haired beauty—as he tried to justify his haste.
“Even so, you should be careful. It will not do to get yourself injured…”
The six of them soon passed out of sight, their excited chatter fading into the din of the crowd.
Glenn recognized them—or rather, Dylan had known them. They, however, had never truly known Dylan, though they occasionally crossed paths in this town.
The reason Dylan had paid them any heed was simple: the two girls among them were strikingly beautiful, leaving an indelible impression on him.
Had his father still been alive, had the family fortune not evaporated, he might once have boldly courted them.
But the boy Dylan had been was long dead; only a heavy, gnawing sense of inferiority remained in the memories he left behind.
A Great Knight, Berin? Is that why the town is so lively today?
He searched the remnants of Dylan’s memory but found no trace of the name.Well… none of this concerns me.Hugging his bundles tighter, Glenn continued on his way.
Clad in armor of burnished silver, a crimson cloak embroidered with golden patterns flowing from his shoulders, his visage stern and immutable as stone—
This was Meyer’s first impression of Berin. Though not precisely as he had fantasized, it was close enough to inspire awe.
Berin rode alone upon a white steed armored in silver plate, flanked on both sides by two impeccable rows of knights.
At the vanguard, two soldiers bore tall standards aloft, the symbols of the kingdom’s will streaming proudly in the wind.
Amidst the townspeople’s fervent cheers and the adoring cries of young women, Berin’s company marched in unison toward the lodgings arranged by the town’s mayor.
“Deamela, look! That must be the Riel Greatsword our teacher spoke of—it’s magnificent! And there, at his side, surely theWhite Lion Pistols, blessed with exorcising power!”
Excited beyond measure, Meyer tugged at the sleeve of the taller youth beside him, pointing eagerly to Berin’s sword and the twin firearms at his waist.
“You need not tell us. Of course we know,” Deamela replied, his own voice tinged with exhilaration. “Our teacher didn’t speak of Berin only to you. We grew up on these tales. And now, at last, we see him with our own eyes. He looks incredibly powerful!”
For youths of their age, such heroic figures held an irresistible allure.
“One day, I shall become a man like Berin too!” declared a red-haired, somewhat portly boy.
“You had best think about how to pass the teacher’s exam in a few days,Bork,” teased the golden-haired, blue-eyed girl in the wide-brimmed hat, her beauty dazzling even in the shade.
The others burst into laughter.
“Pernaas, don’t mention that now! You’ve ruined my good mood,” Bork muttered, scratching his head in mock complaint.
The laughter grew louder.
“Enough, stop teasing Bork. He has been working very hard.”
The gentle rebuke came from another girl—this one with soft brown hair and a charming, gentle face. Seeing Bork’s flushed cheeks, she quickly intervened.
The boys relented, and Bork looked at her with gratitude.
“Thank you,Layla.”
She pressed her lips into a smile. “Prepare well, and you will surely pass the exam.”
At Duder’s knightly inn, Berin’s retinue took their rest, while constables kept the enthusiastic townsfolk at bay to preserve the knights’ peace.
The mayor, an elderly man with a white beard and dignified attire, approached with a deferential smile as Berin dismounted.
“Honored Sir Berin, we have prepared your chambers. Please, this way.”
Berin inclined his head curtly.
“No need for overmuch formality. We shall stay only a few days. Our greater task is to seek signs of thetwo werewolvesstill at large. Beyond that, there are weightier matters awaiting us.”
The mayor’s expression faltered, fear flickering across his features.
“My lord… those werewolves—might they appear here? I beg you, ensure the townsfolk’s safety.”
“You need not be overly concerned,” Berin replied, his voice firm and reassuring. “Those creatures are but lowborn werewolves, their blood thin and their power slight. Even without our hand, a few officers with firearms would suffice should they appear.”
The mayor’s face eased at those words.
On the lonely road back toward Bayek, Glenn walked slowly, his mind drifting to the evening meal while his eyes instinctively scanned the surroundings.
The farther he went, the more desolate the path became, until at last, a solitary figure appeared in the distance.
His steps slowed, his gaze fixing upon the stranger.
Not another monster, surely?
Maintaining his composure, he advanced cautiously.
As the figure drew nearer, Glenn caught a faintly familiar scent.
It was a man in coarse gray-black robes, his head wrapped in a strange turban. His complexion was dark, heavy shadows hanging beneath his eyes, his face expressionless—a man who seemed born without the capacity for mirth.
The familiarity, Glenn realized, came from the scent of Bayek itself. This man must be a resident, though one the former Dylan had never encountered.
The stranger stood half-turned, a bundle hanging from his left hand. At his feet lay another shape sprawled in the grass.
Only when Glenn drew closer did he see it clearly.
“Sir, are you also from Bayek?” he asked, testing the waters.
The man turned his head, gave Glenn a cursory glance, and nodded wordlessly.
A taciturn sort…Glenn thought, falling into silence. His eyes shifted to the motionless figure on the ground. He lowered his voice.
“Did you kill him?”
The man shook his head.
Then what on earth is going on?Glenn wondered.