The city of Tingen was undergoing rapid reconstruction, a scene of post-war revival.
Of course, there were no smooth asphalt roads, no bright gas lamps, no underground sewage systems—none of the modern conveniences from Don's memories. Without the necessary technological advancements, Tingen's development remained limited, its progress stunted in an era before the great Emperor Roselle would illuminate the world's tech tree.
The carriage trundled along a stone path cleared by city officials. A morning downpour had left the roads muddy and puddled, with few pedestrians or other carriages in sight.
In this era, carriages were virtually exclusive to the nobility. Horses were precious commodities, and carriages themselves were rare luxuries for long-distance travel. Only those with ample land and wealth could afford to keep horses. Even some barons had to borrow carriages from allied nobles to maintain appearances.
Frankly, Don thought the world depicted in books leaned more toward the post-Industrial Revolution period. That era, while not as convenient as modern times, at least had toilets and toilet paper—unimaginable luxuries compared to the current primitive outhouses...
Okay, he might actually cry a little.
Experiencing it firsthand made it clear: the Fourth Epoch was far more primitive, rigid, and brutal than the Fifth, before Roselle's industrial revolution reshaped society.
Along the roadside lay corpses—vagrants, slaves dead from disease or overwork, abandoned children whose families could no longer afford to feed them.
They had died in the night, perished from starvation or madness, only to be cleared away by morning. Their bodies were sent to churches for free cremation, the ashes scattered into the Tussock River. This wasn't Roselle's influence; in this world, the Seven Churches, aware of the occult, hadn't yet developed the capacity to handle entire cities' dead. Cremation was simply the cheapest, most efficient method.
After all, undead like ghouls rising from corpses weren't unheard of, and heretics often used mass graves for rituals with catastrophic consequences.
'The bodies along the road will be cleared soon.' Don lowered the carriage curtain with a silent sigh.
This era was truly a society that devoured its own.
Most of the dead were slaves.
As the carriage entered a better-maintained district, the number of vagrants and corpses dwindled. This was Tingen's aristocratic enclave—home to government officials and their families—where the environment was markedly cleaner.
Don escorted his mother to Viscount Becker's estate. The viscountess, Jenny Becker, was Lady Boianca's closest friend. Paying a visit was a matter of courtesy.
Baron Lamud hadn't joined them, which neither Don nor his mother found surprising.
After a quick divination to confirm his mother's safety, Don set out to explore.
A Sequence 6: Demon from the Blood Sanctify wouldn't vanish without the cult's notice. As a mid-to-high-ranking member, their disappearance would prompt a search.
"I almost hope they come looking. Unless it's a Sequence 4 Demigod, in which case Father will have to handle it."
Anyone else would likely end up as another marionette in his collection.
Though, a Sequence 6's danger premonition might deter the cult's higher-ups from approaching Lamud Town altogether.
'Tch. That demon really was unlucky.'
Meanwhile, Don reflected on his Marionettist acting guidelines:
"From what I understand, the core principle lies in the marionettes. A proper puppeteer should remain hidden behind the curtain, ensuring the audience's focus stays on the puppets, not the one pulling their strings."
"In a puppet show, each marionette has its own rules—identity, status, abilities, habits. They must stand out, distinct from the puppeteer, leaving a vivid impression."
"The most crucial part? Making the audience believe they're watching real people, entirely separate from the puppeteer."
[Marionettist Acting Guidelines Updated:]
"As a behind-the-scenes puppeteer, appearing onstage is a grave faux pas. Avoid it at all costs."
"Each marionette is an independent performer. Arrange their entrances and script their roles meticulously."
The current control range was 100 meters—not bad, but still limiting for true behind-the-scenes work.
Lost in thought, Don's carriage passed a large tent with red-and-yellow peaked tops, its heavy curtains billowing slightly.
"A circus?"
The crowd was sparse. Only those with disposable income could afford tickets, while the truly wealthy nobles had more refined entertainments and wouldn't deign to watch cheap performances alongside commoners.
(If interested, they'd just hire the entire circus for a private show.)
Don paid a few copper pennies for entry and found the acts dominated by clowns, with few large beasts like lions or bears.
Not unlike his own days as a Sequence 8: Clown.
Kind of bleak.
He glanced around. The audience barely numbered twenty.
A typical show lasted an hour, with at least eight performances daily. Yet given the turnout, this was likely a money-losing venture.
When the show ended, Don had to admit he'd enjoyed it.
'Entertainment options are slim in this era. Killing time—er, relaxing—basically means circus acts or playing cards.'
As for books? Unless one had a taste for archaic literature, they made excellent sleep aids.
(End of Chapter)