Chapter Thirty-Six: The Telescope’s Blueprint (Part Two)

Having bid farewell to my comrades-in-arms, I immediately sought out Colonel Pekra, the commanding officer of the garrison at Valen Fortress, to report all that had transpired in the forested mausoleum and to expose the true identity of Marquis Menevar.

The words spoken by the evil vampire lord in his final moments left me deeply unsettled. I could not shake a dreadful premonition, an indefinable sense that the world was on the verge of some cataclysmic upheaval, that a great calamity was about to descend. And all of this, I felt, was intimately connected to the ordeal we had just survived.

Colonel Pekra appeared as listless and weary as ever, speaking to me in a soft, languid tone. Yet the content of his words was at odds with the impression of senility and frailty he gave: "…I have always found Menevar’s identity suspicious. At first, I was struck by how he bore an uncanny resemblance to every one of his ancestors’ portraits, which aroused my doubts. Furthermore, no one has ever seen him as a child, nor has there been any rumor about women in his family. That is… most unusual..."

"…Thank you for rescuing my aide. Before this, I had already lost thirteen of my best agents; now I am certain it was the cunning vampire who destroyed them. You have brought vital news, sir. I have written a letter to His Majesty the King, outlining the crisis here. Reinforcements will be dispatched soon. May Darymos grant us his protection—let us hope all is not yet lost…" At this, the colonel rose, turned to the wall, and took down the sword hanging there.

He stroked the scabbard gently, as a father might caress his sleeping child.

"…This will be a hard war, the greatest crisis the continent of Falvey has ever faced. For an old soldier, it comes somewhat late…" As he spoke, he fastened the sword carefully to his belt, then stood silently by the window, gazing at the ink-dark outline of distant mountains.

His bearing remained weary, his figure stooped, his scholarly features at odds with the trim cut of his uniform. Yet in his eyes simmered a fervor that set my own heart alight as I followed his gaze. Between his slightly furrowed brows was a hidden air of magnanimity, a sense that, no matter how heavy the burden, this middle-aged officer would shoulder it bravely and without hesitation.

In that moment, he was nothing like the Colonel Pekra I had imagined. Where I had seen only a decrepit, apathetic bureaucrat, I now glimpsed the keen, lucid eyes that shone beneath his graying temples, and the courageous soul of a soldier burning within his frail body.

Crisis is a crucible of the spirit; perhaps only in its presence can we truly see a person’s courage and integrity.

How foolish I was to misjudge such a worthy man by appearances alone, to trust instead a conspirator with sinister motives, and nearly lose my life for it.

As a reward for my efforts, Colonel Pekra presented me with a lightweight steel shield known as the “Observation Bastion.” It was precisely the defensive tool I needed most at that moment. Compared to the ordinary small shield I had lost in the mausoleum, this steel shield offered far greater protection and—

—the “Observation” attribute enhanced my powers of perception and discernment in battle, greatly increasing my chances of blocking attacks and allowing me to fully defend against enemy blows without suffering any harm.

For the first time, I felt that to receive a reward could be a cause for shame, especially such a precious one. I did not feel worthy of Colonel Pekra’s gift; indeed, I felt I should be punished for my actions.

The moment I accepted the shield from his hands, my face flushed hot and I could not meet his gaze. When I left his office, he had already returned to his desk, lost in silent thought.

The westering sunlight poured through the window, cloaking him in a subtle, profound radiance—a silhouette of wisdom and resolve etched in golden light.

After taking my leave of the colonel, I visited my various employers to collect the rewards due to me. Inspector Mr. Faselli and Sir Montara, captain of the city watch, paid in full for the “Missing Son” and “Fang of the Bloodkin” assignments. When I called at Mr. Faselli’s home, the rescued young Phili was diligently practicing his swordsmanship and declared that, when he grew up, he wished to become “as brave as Geoffrey Kidd.” Later, I learned that when Chang Sanjiao visited, the boy claimed he wanted to be “as graceful a rogue as Chang Sanjiao,” and to Longbow Sun, he aspired to be “as pure a priest as Longbow Sun.” I thought to myself that this child shows great promise for becoming an outstanding politician.

Yet, at that moment, his crystalline, innocent affection was more precious to me than the pouch of gold his father handed over.

I returned the five lost pages of the sacred scripture to the temple within the fortress. Sadly, due to the influence of dark magic, the divine power once imbued in those pages had completely faded, leaving them as nothing more than ordinary paper. The damaged scripture could never be restored to its former might. But for the temple’s priests, the religious significance of the pages far outweighed any material loss.

In addition to five gold coins, they presented me with a belt blessed with holy power, which increased my strength by eighteen points and improved my chances of evading attacks.

I also reported to the fortress’s warrior trainer about my victory over the “Cursed Battle Spirit.” He praised me in somber tones and taught me a skill called “Blade Storm,” which allowed me to deal heavy damage to up to three nearby enemies for fifteen seconds—a most useful technique when outnumbered.

In truth, I suspected this brawny trainer to be rather simple-minded and overly trusting. He did not ask for any token of proof that I had defeated the “Cursed Battle Spirit”; he simply believed my account without question. I fancied that, had I done nothing but wander outside the fortress and claim success upon my return, this foolish trainer might have taught me the skill all the same.

With these affairs settled, I returned once more to the city of Campnavia, stepping again into the laboratory of my alchemy master, Mr. Edgewell. My heart pounded with anticipation as I retrieved from my pack the blueprints for the “Telescope”…