Having suppressed with all his might the thoughts that troubled his heart and threatened to lead him to a senseless death, Furen opened the last page of the diary.
Even an idiot would have understood, upon seeing the calendar drawn by Martin, the dates of the full moons and blood moons for the coming years. Perhaps it was precisely this calendar, condensed with paternal love, that had allowed Furen, often on the verge of losing control, to escape death in the face of omnipresent dangers.
As expected, Furen closed his eyes after reading: July 6, 1183, was the full moon of that month. That evening, Bethel Abraham's voice would pierce through space and inflict indescribable pain on the descendants of the Abraham family.
With a sigh, Furen regained his senses. Although he was deeply saddened by Furen and Martin's suffering, he knew that it was currently impossible for him to avenge anyone. Let alone plan, he didn't even dare to think about it.
Gathering his courage, Furen took the notebook into his room. Following the directions in the black-covered notebook, he took out the calendars for 1184 and 1185 that he kept at home and wrote down the dates of all the full moons and blood moons for the next three years.
Although he yearned to study the astrology described in the journal, it wasn't his priority at the moment. Since Reeve had warned him, his once-measured desire to progress through the sequences had been completely shattered. Furen now had to prepare to progress along the mystical path even if he were to lose all support from the Abraham family.
As for how to enter the wild occult world, Furen didn't know. But his father did: Martin had recorded in a journal the knowledge his own father had passed on to him.
Furen still remembered the title of that diary. He had found it in the lower right corner of the secret room. On the flyleaf, a striking name was written:
"The Rise of the Genie - The Divine Path of Martin of the Abraham Family."
Perhaps it was the Abrahams' long-held wish: from a young age, Martin, inspired by his father, dreamed of leading the family to glory. And it was in these time-yellowed pages that Furen revived the dream his father had long since abandoned.
Without dwelling too much on it, the newspaper recounted that Martin had entered the mystical world after digesting the Apprentice potion. He was fifteen years old at the time, that age when everything arouses curiosity. Martin's father had taken him to a tavern in the Winston district; the name of this tavern was: the Burning Axe Tavern.
This place became for Martin the symbol of his entry into the occult world and his favorite place for the rest of his life.
The Burning Axe Tavern hosted small gatherings of Beyonders, organized by a secret society. Martin didn't know who was behind this group, but he knew its founder was no ordinary individual. This circle was only one branch of a much larger gathering, and membership was only possible through the tavernkeeper's recommendation.
To join the main gathering, it was necessary to join this organization, which is why, in about ten years, its name had quickly spread among the Beyonders of Triers.
Although it was a small meeting, one could sometimes find Sequence 6 primary materials there, and once even Sequence 5 secondary material. In such an environment, Martin never feared being duped: for every large meeting organized by this group always included a "Notary."
The Notaries all wore iron masks, and it was said that there were several of them. Some had attended two different meetings and had noticed that they were not the same. It was therefore estimated that there were at least two Notaries.
These Notaries were Sequence 6 members of the Path of the Sun. Seeing two or more members of this Sequence appear outside the Church of the Burning Sun was enough to prove the power of this organization.
Guided by his father, Martin benefited greatly from these mystical gatherings. In addition to progressing in his Sequence, he overcame several crises thanks to his father's help. In this place, danger and opportunity coexisted, and the tavern became a landmark for him, a starting point in his life as a Beyonder.
Even after so many years, Furen could still feel the joy Martin had felt at that time.
Outside of this circle, Martin had also recorded in his journal the methods and details of joining other mystical meetings, although less important but still useful.
In this world, those most likely to come into contact with the supernatural were always the lesser nobles and wealthy merchants. The greater nobles had no need for it, while the lower classes simply had no access to it.
In these circles of minor nobles and wealthy merchants, once you had gained the trust of three or four friends, you could subtly make them understand your desire to enter the occult world. By asking enough questions and exploring every avenue, it was always possible to find one or more avenues of access.
This is how Martin attended other Beyonder gatherings. Granted, these circles were of a much lower level than the Burning Axe Tavern, but having multiple paths to enter was never a bad thing for a mystery seeker.
Written in the notebook was another option: to become a mercenary and search the taverns of working-class or impoverished neighborhoods for possible occult circles. This method required time, effort, and a large amount of luck—some could go their entire lives without ever meeting a Guide, those rare individuals who recruit new members for Beyonder gatherings.
After carefully rereading this indelible notebook in his memory, Furen made his decision: he would hesitate no longer. He would go to one of these gatherings immediately. Even if these meetings took place at night, it was better to warn the tavern owner of his intention in advance than to go unprepared.
After checking his things one last time, Furen left the house.
Waiting on the wide avenue, he turned back to the mailbox. He took out the key he should have used the day before and decided to see if any mail was waiting for him.
Surprisingly, inside lay a white envelope sealed with blue wax. Around the seal, a name was written: Quevedo Heimer.
Furen was surprised: he had only just met Quevedo the day before, after a long separation, and now he was already receiving a letter from him. Such warmth surprised him and gave him a glimpse of a new aspect of this new friend's character.
However, the sound of the carriage bells prevented him from opening it immediately. After a brief reflection, he slipped the letter into his large pocket, signaled to the coachman to stop the carriage, and indicated his destination.
Carrying a thousand suppositions about the contents of the letter, Furen drove off, the car gradually disappearing into the streets of Cothorne Street.
(End of chapter)