Steampunk: Sixth Era Epic

The man in the worn robe had been staying at this shabby inn for several days, intending to have lunch as usual. But as he went downstairs, he unexpectedly saw a very familiar figure by the wall.

"Long time no see, Mr. Watson."

Shard, looking down at the news, heard someone greeting him in the oddly accented Casenric language. As soon as he looked up, he saw that person pulling over a wooden chair from the opposite side of the table and sitting down in the light of the kerosene lamp on the wall.

His eyelashes were extremely short, his black eyes were unusually bright, and his brown desert robe was old. The stubble on his chin was probably longer than his hair.

"Mr. Sean Asmon?"

Shard was taken aback, not expecting to meet him again.

"Yes, Mr. Watson, I'm glad to meet you again in this unfamiliar city."

The demonologist put down his notebook and flashed Shard his signature, strange smile.

Although the expression was peculiar, it wasn't the first time Shard had seen it. Besides, he was quite pleased to run into an old friend in Casenlic:

"Mr. Asmon, how did you end up here? First Coldwater Port, then southeast to Midshire Fort, and now you've returned westward to this place."

"Of course, to continue searching for demon legends."

He maintained that insincere smile, his scalp nearly glowing under the dim kerosene lamp:

"Besides, Mr. Watson, haven't you also appeared here?"

"Yes, yes, to celebrate this unusual reunion, let me buy you a drink."

Saying this, he called over a seemingly distracted, chubby waiter, whose size was twice that of Shard. Mr. Sean Asmon didn't exchange many formalities with Shard either; he ordered a barley wine for himself, propped his left hand on his knee, leaned over, and started chatting with Shard again.

"Are there demons in Huntington City? Oh, Mr. Asmon, I've heard lots of urban legends about vampire kinds here."

Shard said with a smile, while the demonologist's voice, like in summer and fall, had a slippery quality, reminiscent of a snake slithering:

"Yes, demons. But not in Huntington, in the Great Swamp. I've heard many legends here, like interconnected tunnels and snake-like man-eating vines."

As Shard instinctively glanced westward, Mr. Asmon's black eyes remained fixed on him:

"There are some intriguing legends, and there are quite a number of demonic ruins within the Great Swamp. I believe I can find something valuable, which will make this journey interesting."

In fact, if he went to Tobesk a while back, he'd have a much higher chance of finding demons.

"But in my opinion, venturing deep into the swamp at this time of year isn't a good idea."

The two raised their glasses for a drink, and the candle on the side of the table made their shadows flicker slightly. This shabby inn didn't have gas pipelines, nor steam pipes, so even heating relied on burning wood. The only fireplace looked quite old and was the brightest light source in the room.

But this actually gave the shabby little inn a surprisingly ancient and weathered feel.

Shard knew that there would be big events happening inside the Pantanal Swamp soon, which was why he advised against it. The demonologist let out a strange laugh, but his eyes showed no trace of humor:

"I just plan to circle around the perimeter; I won't venture into the swamp. Those series of lakes are my investigation targets."

But by doing so, his chance of finding the angel was much greater than finding demons. After all, there really was an angel residing in one of the lakes here.

"However, it truly is interesting."

Shard placed his glass on the stained wooden table with a ~thunk, which had light chopping marks and soaked in decades of alcohol:

"Mr. Asmon, it seems every time we meet, it's at a place with 'rose' in the name. The Pink Rose Tavern in Coldwater Port, the Blue Rose Inn on the Windy Path of Sicarl Mountain, and now the Blood Rose Inn in Huntington City."

"No, no, no, Mr. Watson. I don't deliberately choose these kinds of places to stay. It's just that my pocket isn't very deep."

He leaned his head forward slightly, but there was no hint of embarrassment in his expression.

Shard nodded with a smile:

"Do you need me to sponsor your research? Maybe when we're in another unfamiliar city, we can meet again at some corner of the city, and you can tell me about the stories you've encountered locally."

He was about to reach for his wallet. Although he had only met this demonologist twice, Shard had quite a good impression of him.

[Probably because the first time you met, he gave you an ancient "Demon: Soul Stealer Bishop."]

"She" softly reminded Shard by his ear, but Mr. Asmon pursed his lips, making a smacking sound while shaking his head:

"I can't do that. I research demonology, and my field tells me that accepting others' kindness or making wishes casually is not a good habit. But, I do have something good here."

He opened his dog-eared notebook and displayed a half-obscured card.

The problem with the card is not only that it is only half, the remaining half is discolored and badly damaged, but it can still be seen that it is the upper part of a Roder Card.

Shard took the card to inspect it but couldn't recognize what card it was from the remaining half. Thus, the demonologist explained to Shard:

"Some time ago, I explored a group of ownerless tombs in the wild with a group of people."

In other words, a group of people conspired to rob graves, and this demonologist in front of him did seem like someone who could do such a thing.

"The place was very dangerous, but there weren't too many valuable burial goods. This was something I brought out from the tombs. It lay in the dirt of the tomb pathway. It's unknown whether it's burial goods or something left by the previous visitor. It's a pity that the great power of time destroyed so many things.

I once investigated this card. If I'm not mistaken, it should be the Star 8's [Natural Disaster: Blizzard] (Note). The rules recorded by the Prophet's Society are: when drawing this card, if the opponent hasn't stopped and the number of cards in hand is even, you can remove the smallest numbered upcard from the opponent's hand. The special effect of the removed card still takes effect."

Mr. Asmon explained with a strange smile, and Shard was somewhat surprised:

"The Natural Disaster series is very famous and has been reprinted many times. Judging by the appearance and printing technology of this card, it's probably the first edition. It's a real pity it's damaged in this manner; otherwise, it would be quite valuable."

"Yes, but as far as I know, the Prophet's Society provides a card replacement service for the owners of Roder Cards."

The demonologist continued, and Shard nodded.

After all, apart from the thirteen Genesis Series cards, the other cards are just ordinary items and will get damaged sooner or later (Note). And the Prophet's Society thoughtfully offers a replacement service for the holders of Roder Cards. By carrying an old card with a certain degree of completeness and related documents, one can pay to exchange the old card for a new one.

There are complete regulations for the completeness of the old card and the necessary documents. However, if one has a significant enough presence in the Prophet's Society or can provide a suitable reason to persuade the Society, even if the necessary conditions are lacking, they can pay extra for a replacement.

"Very interesting."

Shard commented, taking out his notebook and clipping the old card inside:

"Mr. Asmon, since you are unwilling to accept my goodwill for nothing, why not sell this old card to me?"

He rummaged through his wallet and handed over a 3 Krone banknote:

"This is my payment."

This money was actually more than necessary, considering it took 11 to 12 Gold Pounds to exchange for one Krone. Shard purely wanted to sponsor the man in front of him, at least so that he wouldn't have to live in such a shabby place.

"In that case."

Mr. Asmon accepted the three green banknotes:

"Why don't we continue the story we didn't finish last time?"

"A demon story? Of course."

The demonologist squinted slightly, and Shard felt that the light from the kerosene lamp and the candle on the table dripping wax had dimmed a little.

"Mr. Watson, do you remember the content of the stories we told in the last two sessions?"

"Yes, yes."

Shard replied, holding the handle of the wine glass:

"A marvelous being that, due to people's perception, truly possesses the rumored powers of a demon. He traveled many places, bringing countless disasters, but only until he met a wishless man did he fail once.

The demon hid in the soul of the wishless person, traveling with him, bringing disasters, causing the desireless person to be cast out by friends, companions, and everyone. But on his deathbed, that human laughed and said he had sealed the demon with his life, while the demon laughed, saying the man ultimately had a wish. It thus devoured the man's soul and walked towards the place they came from."

Shard shook his head:

"In other words, the man's hometown."

"Yes, and obviously this story is still continuing."

The long-faced man raised his wine glass. Discussing such topics in a rundown tavern under dim lights and with occasional familiar faces gave it quite an atmospheric feel.

"I have a premonition this won't be a story with a good ending."

Shard said softly, then laughed at himself:

"A story related to a demon, how could it possibly have a good ending?"

And the demonologist's slick voice had already started:

"The wishless man spent all his life traveling with the demon in his soul, just hoping it could stay away from his family and friends. But the demon returned to the man's hometown, back to the travel's starting point, within just one night. This story happens there."

"Tsk tsk."

Shard whispered in amazement, but the sound of a glass being rudely placed on the table around him drowned out his exclamation.