Lord of Mysteries: The Traveler

With the rhythmic clatter of horse hooves, Florent turned his thoughts to the simple yet elegant envelope in his hand.

He channeled his spiritual energy into his right hand, causing a faint, mysterious blue glow to emanate within the carriage. Though not dazzling, the light carried an air of mystique.

He reached into his coat, where he kept a dagger, and retrieved the blade.

The ability, 'Door Opening', was useless against obstacles that had no actual door, but Florent had devised a clever use for his two mystical items.

He pressed the paper against his skin, right above where the dagger was hidden... a method he believed to be the most effective. As for using the paper in combat, Florent decided he would only bring it out when the time came.

With a swift motion, he used the razor-sharp dagger to slice open the wax seal of the letter. The ease with which the blade cut through the seal impressed him, and he nodded in satisfaction. This was far more efficient than the last time he had opened a letter.

After returning the dagger to its hidden place using his abilities, Florent pulled the letter from the envelope and placed the envelope on the seat beside him. He began to read the letter carefully.

As expected, the letter wasn't as crucial as the one from the elder, Levi Abraham, but it still contained important information.

<...First, I must apologize for my impulsiveness and recklessness. After such a long separation, I find myself deeply missing the friends I made under Mr. Roman's guidance...

...You, Florent Freeman, are one of the most valuable friends I made during that time. Though you were always quiet, those who had the chance to converse with you knew just how knowledgeable you were. After all these years, I am delighted to reconnect with you...

...I sincerely hope we can reunite in the halls of knowledge once more. This time, we are no longer naive youths, but scholars dedicated to the pursuit of wisdom. Though I am not fully aware of what you've been through, I understand that you endured unbearable tragedies during that time...>

<...Now, I wish to reintroduce you, as a friend, to the final piece of knowledge you left behind under Mr. Roman's tutelage, the joy of engaging in intellectual discussions with peers, in salons...

...Of course, thanks to the efforts of our beloved Consul, Roselle, salons have expanded to coffeehouses as well. As you know, I am an admirer of the 'Son of Steam', so I find the idea of sharing knowledge in a coffeehouse particularly delightful...

...Coincidentally, I will soon be attending a philosophy salon at the Crimson Gold Coffeehouse on Trenk Street in the Starfield District, along with Mr. Erich Sabach, whom we met at the library. I would be honored if you could join me at 3:00 PM on July 15th at the corner of Trenk Street. I would like to invite you to this philosophy salon...>

After quickly reading the letter, Florent couldn't help but lightly tap his forehead...

The letter itself wasn't confusing, but his frustration stemmed from his complete lack of familiarity with the world's philosophy.

As for attending, Florent was determined to go. For someone who sought to explore the mystical world firsthand rather than simply following his father's path, this philosophy salon was an excellent opportunity.

He was surprised by how thoughtful Quevedo was, going out of his way to help a friend he hadn't seen in years...

However, the mention of philosophy forced Florent to adjust his study plans. He would have to spend the next few days brushing up on philosophical theories.

The thought of being completely clueless at the salon filled him with dread. Such a scenario would not only be embarrassing, but also a significant blow to his efforts to build a new social network.

Rubbing his temples, Florent placed the letter back into the envelope and tucked it into his coat pocket. Unsure of what to do next, he turned his gaze to the window.

The city of Trier was bathed in sunlight. The golden decorations on the buildings, which gleamed even at night, now reflected the sunlight in a way that was dazzling yet not harsh.

This unique experience filled Florent with a sense of wonder and deepened his admiration for the craftsmanship behind Intis' golden pigments.

Intis was undoubtedly the nation that had mastered the use of gold to the highest degree...

As the carriage sped past, Florent found himself captivated by the fleeting glimpses of art outside the window. Before he knew it, they had passed the Trier National Library, which he had visited just the day before.

Finally, he arrived at the 'Flame Axe Tavern'...

After paying the coachman, he took a moment to observe the establishment that had left such a positive impression on his father.

As soon as he stepped out of the carriage, Florent was hit by the pungent smell of urine, a stark reminder of the poverty that plagued this era.

Even for those who had risen above the status of paupers, proper sanitation and drainage systems were luxuries beyond reach. The cost of urban development was an astronomical sum that no nation of this time could afford.

The common folk lacked the means to improve their living conditions. Even those who no longer worried about their next meal couldn't be certain they wouldn't fall back into poverty. A minor illness or accident could easily reduce them to destitution, with little hope of recovery.

As for the government, in a world where extraordinary powers existed, few among the ruling class cared about the plight of the poor.

Returning to the topic at hand, the 'Flame Axe Tavern' was nothing extraordinary...

It wasn't a luxurious establishment... In fact, it was indistinguishable from the surrounding buildings, if not slightly more run-down. It was a typical tavern in a working-class neighborhood.

The only notable feature was that the tavern was made of stone, while some of the nearby houses were still constructed of wood...

For Florent, who had never ventured into the poorer districts since his arrival, this was shocking. After all, this was the capital of Intis.

The tavern's sign hung slightly askew above the entrance, with the words 'Flame Axe' written in bold, unrestrained strokes that reflected the writer's free-spirited nature.

The door wasn't the refined type found in modern bars, but rather a rustic wooden one, reminiscent of those seen in pirate-themed comics. It didn't fully conceal the interior, and its creak wasn't overly loud.

With a mix of curiosity and caution, Florent took a moment to consider what he should say upon entering...

Then, he pushed open the wooden door and stepped into the tavern, a place that, to his modern sensibilities, seemed both mysterious and brutal, a relic of a bygone era...