"After ringing the bell, you must return to your territory, announce the closure of the Slaughter Theater, and blame all its sins on Beryl," Jiang You instructed, outlining the next steps in the script. "Thank Beryl for leaving us a sample of the Mors Curse. When you announce the theater's closure, I'll inject this curse into some unlucky elf, and then it'll be your time to perform."
"You pretend to be all lawful good, but you're just another ruthless villain," Fairy Tristan chuckled. She found Jiang You increasingly appealing; his methods were exactly to her taste. "Good. Only someone like this deserves to stand by my side."
"Don't get too excited yet," Jiang You warned, glancing at his status panel. Chaos Good, just as he expected—players were destined to never truly belong to the lawful alignment.
"From now on, to properly carry the title of Savior, you won't have many opportunities to indulge in your beloved screams and bloodshed."
Fairy Tristan deflated at his cold water, replying weakly, "Fine, fine. For Mother's sake, I'll endure it."
"Still, we can indulge in a few small pleasures," Jiang You conceded.
Jiang You clapped his hands, and over a dozen shoeboxes, each uniquely decorated, landed in the center of the room.
"Take a look. If you don't like these, I have others."
"High heels? No offense, but my shoe collection features some of the rarest and most exquisite pieces in Britain..."
Fairy Tristan was quickly captivated by the shoes. While the fairies' craftsmanship was impressive, their creativity and refinement couldn't compare to those of modern industrialized society, especially since her interest in such things stemmed from Beryl's stories about Pan-Human History.
"Where did you find these? The craftsmanship... the materials... they're incredible! And so many of them, even enchanted?!"
It was clear Fairy Tristan was genuinely pleased with the high heels. But her fascination seemed to extend beyond the shoes themselves.
"What kind of feet could possibly be worthy of these shoes? I can hardly wait to find out..."
There she goes again, losing it.
"And another thing—no chopping off people's ankles!"
Jiang You vowed to correct Fairy Tristan's twisted fetish. Being a foot fetishist was one thing, but cutting off people's ankles? What kind of sick nonsense was that? A sudden turn to R-18?
"Ehh, why not—"
Fairy Tristan, seeing the generous supply of exquisite high-heeled shoes Jiang You had brought, decided to let bygones be bygones for now.
"Well then, it's getting late. You should get some rest tonight."
Jiang You glanced at the time. It was almost time to log off anyway. Chaldea's Master was still conserving energy, preparing to tackle 1.7, and he could use the next few days to accompany Fairy Tristan and handle some matters. "We'll set off for Oxford tomorrow. Woodworth is one of your mother's most loyal lords and will acknowledge your identity. Ringing the Pilgrimage Bell at his domain would be most fitting."
"Woodworth? To be honest, I don't particularly like him."
If she had liked him, Fairy Tristan wouldn't have launched an attack on Woodworth just because Beryl had whispered a few words in her ear.
"But Morgan adores him, and his strength is remarkable. From every perspective, you have ample reason to cherish him."
Jiang You patted Fairy Tristan's head.
Come to think of it, if Morgan hadn't declared that the legion unable to fulfill its orders and Woodworth were both worthless, things wouldn't have spiraled into this disaster. If Woodworth had been properly appeased, he would never have turned against Morgan. Even more absurd was Morgan's complete lack of self-awareness; did she genuinely not realize there was something wrong with her communication skills?
Jiang You finally understood why Morgan's profession was Berserker. Resolving to serve as her simultaneous translator, he hoped to prevent Morgan from inadvertently turning her own people against her.
Sensing Jiang You's intention to teach her something, Fairy Tristan didn't strongly resist his actions, merely swatting his hand aside.
"I've already said, I'll endure it if it's for Mother."
"Then thank you, Great Savior of the Fairies."
As long as Morgan was mentioned, Fairy Tristan remained remarkably cooperative. Jiang You had finally found a way to get along with her.
"I'll go rest now."
After watching Jiang You vanish before her eyes again, Fairy Tristan realized she didn't even know where he came from or where he lived.
-
Restaurant Town, Oxford.
This territory belonged to Woodworth. The elves of the Fang Clan, following Woodworth's laws, dressed impeccably and behaved with refined elegance, though their inherent nature made their actions seem somewhat unnatural.
"Chief, a letter has arrived from New Darlington. Princess Tristan is coming to visit and will inspect the Fang Clan's etiquette on behalf of Her Majesty the Queen."
Woodworth had barely finished putting on his suit after waking up when his subordinate rushed in with the urgent report.
"Would Her Majesty even have the time to concern herself with such matters?"
Though thrilled that Morgan had noticed him, Woodworth still found the situation rather strange.
"Chief, I've heard that the Queen recently imprisoned her 'husband,' Beryl Gut, and the Princess was very close to him. Do you think there might be a connection?" Woodworth's subordinate, well-informed as usual, offered this pointed suggestion.
"Forget about it. No need to overthink things. Since it's Her Majesty's command, we'll greet them with the highest possible courtesy. We can't afford to lose face in front of the princess."
With a dismissive wave, Woodworth ordered his staff to prepare the banquet. As the owner of a renowned restaurant, he was confident that even a vegetarian feast could satisfy the guests.
"And remember, emphasize this again: the fork goes on the left, the knife on the right! Details determine success!"
By the time Jiang You arrived, Woodworth had already completed all the preparations for the reception. Every procedure was meticulously executed, following protocol to the letter.
"May I ask who you are?" Woodworth's beast eyes narrowed with suspicion as he sized up the unfamiliar human.
"I am the newly appointed Court Scribe of Her Majesty Morgan. I'm accompanying Princess Tristan on her visit. Here is my token of authority."
"I see."
Woodworth confirmed the token and gestured for Jiang You to enter. Even with his feral nature restrained, the three-meter-tall dog-man exuded an overwhelming sense of primal power.
"But where is Her Highness the Princess? Did she not accompany you?"
"Princess Tristan said she wanted to explore Oxford on her own and just ran off. You know how capricious she can be."
Jiang You feigned a troubled expression. In truth, Fairy Tristan had already rushed to the Pilgrimage Bell. The fewer people who witnessed her ringing it, the better—that way, no one would know if the sound truly came from the Pilgrimage Bell.
"It's been a while now. I imagine she'll arrive for our appointment shortly."
Capricious? Woodworth thought to himself. That's putting it mildly. There aren't many in Britain who haven't heard of Fairy Tristan's infamous reputation.
Just then, a melodious bell chime reverberated across Oxford's skies, drawing everyone's gaze skyward.
"That's... the Pilgrimage Bell?!"
Woodworth's pupils constricted. His mood for hospitality vanished instantly.