Our Family Has Fallen-Chapter 368 - 258: News_1
"Romani like us are free as the wind, blowing wherever we wish," Tamara said. Her expression turned somewhat strange. Some things, however, are destined not to be said, so she feigned nonchalance.
"Really? I don’t believe it~," Lance chuckled, teasing. "I thought you couldn’t forget me and came looking for me specifically."
Lance’s comment was both a tease and a probe; he remembered that the Romani were skilled at divination and prophecy.
The road north has been swallowed by the wilderness, so Hamlet is the only destination at the end of this old road. Could it be that this woman is still obsessing over my ring and has come looking for me?
"Of course, I haven’t forgotten you. I’ve become like this because you tricked me back then." As Tamara spoke, her head began to throb again, her tone tinged with gritted-teeth resentment. It’s mostly his fault I’m like this now.
He was clearly so strong, yet he pretended to be a novice to toy with me. It caused a backlash that exposed my aura, and that’s how I was caught.
Lance observed her reaction and suddenly asked, "What are you running from?"
Tamara’s pain-racked mind suddenly calmed, her expression becoming somewhat unnatural.
But Lance continued, "Geralt and the Nun are pursuing a Wizard, but they also rest at night. It’s highly improbable for you to have appeared there and encountered the Wizard first.
Most of the Extraordinary ornaments on you have dimmed, clearly having been used, yet you only used one in the battle Geralt described.
Moreover, the supplies inside the carriage are very different from when I was last here. Surely, one as ’free’ as you can’t be unable to replenish the simplest of supplies?"
Listening to Lance’s analysis, Tamara’s already pale face grew even more unsightly.
She hadn’t mentioned her troubles because she feared that Lance, as the Lord, would learn of them, worry about getting entangled, and drive her out. She was acutely aware of her severe injuries, which wouldn’t heal for at least ten days to a fortnight, not to mention that many of her items had been depleted. If she were driven out now, her very survival would be in question...
"What kind of trouble have you gotten into? Who is hunting you?" Lance was also curious, but Tamara was unwilling to say, looking as if there was quite a story behind it.
Such a reaction only deepens one’s curiosity—the desire to uncover the truth lurks within everyone, commonly called nosiness.
However, compared to that vague story, Lance was more concerned about the Wizard’s situation. He had to suppress his curiosity and said, "Hamlet is peaceful and serene. Its residents abide by the law. No one is permitted to cause trouble in Hamlet."
He didn’t offer a direct promise, as he didn’t know what enemies she had provoked, but he still designated a safe zone for her.
The intense pain had almost robbed her of the ability to think, but Tamara still discerned the hidden meaning in Lance’s words. For a moment, she was surprised and a little bewildered.
"You..."
"Focus on healing. In the meantime, tell me what you know," Lance said, directly changing the subject. He needed the vast knowledge Tamara possessed.
"That Wizard... I’ve seen him before. He ran an antique shop on an inner street of Totnes Rat Street, but everyone knew it was just a front.
From his appearance, he’s likely Levantine. His school should be Aberrant Wizard, gaining power by forging contracts with nonhuman monsters. Of course, they are also slaves to these monsters in the physical world, required to make offerings, or they face a backlash.
As for why he’s wanted, I’m not sure; it must have happened after I left. I was just unlucky enough to stumble into their conflict.
However, judging by the village-slaughtering ritual he conducted, his old contract must have had problems. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have needed to perform a ritual to contract a new monster."
Tamara didn’t hesitate, as this information wasn’t much of a secret and mostly discernible.
This information is too general, hardly enough to connect the dots, Lance mused. He could only take out the few items he had found on the battlefield: a triangular pendant, a Bone Furnace, and a wooden box.
"Can you identify these items?"
"Quick, quick, take them away!" Tamara reacted as if she’d received an electric shock, throwing her hand up before her eyes in vehement refusal.
"Is that really necessary?" Lance could only put the items away.
"Didn’t I tell you not to recklessly touch unknown Extraordinary items! You have no idea what Curses that Wizard might have left on them, or if the items themselves are inherently problematic," Tamara warned. She felt so weak now that she didn’t dare touch them, not even look at them, for fear of being affected.
"Alright, tell me about those two," Lance said.
"The man named Geralt is a renowned Master Witcher on the continent. His white hair and golden, vertical pupils are the result of an internal Witcher ritual. His strength is also formidable, and he’s said to be ageless and undying, possessing powerful regenerative abilities."
Ageless and undying? Lance’s interest was piqued. For someone from his cultural background, the pursuit of eternal life was an aspiration etched into the very soul.
"Legend says he died once but was resurrected. I don’t know if it’s true. However, I’ve indeed never seen him age, as his legend was already known throughout the continent decades ago. But it seems a side effect of the ritual is the loss of fertility."
