Lord Of The Mysteries Book 2: Circle Of Inevitability

Chapter 8☆ Owl

The idea hit Lumian like a bolt of lightning, but he didn’t particularly fancy going through with it.
Ignoring the fact that years had flown by since the Warlock’s demise and that the lifespan of owls was measly compared to humans, the sheer number of birds in the mountain was enough to make Lumian reconsider.
There were too many of the damn things!
That owl doesn’t have any distinct markings… No, in the legends, there was no mention of anything specific about the owl. Naroka didn’t disclose everything… We didn’t inquire deeply enough... He snapped out of his thoughts and flashed a reassuring smile at Reimund.
“An owl tied to a Warlock could live for a hundred years.”
As Reimund trembled with fear, he reassured him in a calm voice, “Don’t fret, mon ami. This is my last resort. I do not wish to encounter a monster.”
“Perhaps we should consult another old sage. Naroka may have overlooked a vital clue.”
The man’s tone turned seductive as he continued, “If I were a Warlock, I would not keep all my treasures with me or in my home. I would stash some away in case the Inquisition attacked me. I would not have the luxury of time to collect my belongings. When I must flee, I would be left destitute.”
The Inquisition of the Church of the Eternal Blazing Sun was notorious for hunting down Warlocks and Witches. Their “heroic deeds” were celebrated throughout the countryside.
Reimund’s face lit up with excitement as he exclaimed, “You are right!”
He said with a yearning expression, “It’s a shame. Too many years have elapsed. The Church’s discovered riches must have been spent ages ago.”
“Mon ami, that’s a dangerous thought,” Lumian teased.
Undeterred, they continued their visits to Pierre-père, Naferia, and other elders of the Maury family.
Although their responses mirrored Naroka’s, Lumian and Reimund, with their newfound experience, managed to extract more details.
For instance, the owl was of medium size and resembled its kind. It had a pointed beak, a feline face, brown feathers with scattered spots, brownish-yellow eyes, and black pupils…
However, it was larger than the average owl, and its eyes appeared to spin. It was not as rigid or dim-witted as its kind.
All these peculiarities made the owl seem even more sinister in their descriptions.
“Seems like we’ve hit a dead end,” Lumian stated to Reimund as they traveled to the townsquare. “We must focus on other legends.”
Reimund was not as discouraged as he had been earlier. “Agreed. But which one should we pursue?”
This fellow is so proactive and hardworking…?Lumian silently praised Reimund’s enthusiasm and diligence and readied a reward for him.
He nodded and said, “Take your time and reflect on it. We shall discuss tomorrow. I shall impart combat techniques to you this afternoon.”
“Marvelous!” Reimund exclaimed, overjoyed by the unforeseen instruction.
Aurore was a skilled fighter. After all, how else could she handle the savage and rough men in the village? Her younger brother was likely to be just as proficient.
After bidding farewell to Reimund Greg, Lumian veered onto the trail leading to his home.
As he walked, he spotted a group of men approaching him.
The leader was in his prime, not towering above 1.7 meters in height. He wore a white robe and had light black hair.
With a regal demeanor and decent facial features, the tip of his nose curled slightly in undisguised disgust and malice as he glared at Lumian with his blue eyes.
None other than the padre of the Eternal Blazing Sun Church in Cordu, Guillaume Bénet.
“I have been awaiting your arrival for quite some time,” Guillaume Bénet bellowed in a baritone voice. “Did you deliberately bring those foreigners to the cathedral?”
Lumian attempted to explain himself as he furtively took a step back. “I thought you were sleeping inside.”
He had noticed Pons Bénet—the padre’s younger sibling—standing beside Guillaume Bénet. Pons was in his early thirties, muscular, domineering, and a bully.
The other individuals with them were the padre’s henchmen.
Guillaume Bénet signaled Pons with a glance as Lumian retreated.
Pons Bénet’s grin turned sinister as he lunged forward, bellowing,