"Every member of the Fool's Troupe has been exiled by the Order."
Brant and Roccia walked ahead of Ray, explaining the story behind the troupe.
"Some were dissatisfied with the Order's rule, seen as thorns in their side, and ultimately exiled," Roccia added softly.
"And others... even the Order itself probably couldn't clearly state the exact reason for exiling them." Brant shook his head, a wry smile touching his lips as if remembering something.
"For example, Battier was just fishing out a fish that had been ritually released by the Order. He ended up on trial and was eventually expelled from his homeland."
Hearing this, Ray couldn't help but twitch the corner of his mouth. "With such an absurd reason, they could exile someone?"
Brant shrugged, a note of helplessness in his voice. "Well, not entirely. Let's just say his luck was terrible, the first time he caught that fish, he released it immediately. But not long after, he caught it again... then a third time, a fourth time."
"The news quickly reached the Order's ears. No matter how he explained, it was useless." Roccia continued, a complex look in her eyes. "In the end, he was still exiled."
Ray was momentarily speechless.
This was probably the unluckiest fisherman he'd ever heard of.
Though, from another perspective, as a fisherman, he was at least competent, never returned empty-handed.
"Isn't it a reason that leaves you speechless?"
Ray nodded. "Honestly, yes. But... the Order exiles so many people every year. Does the troupe accept all of them?"
Roccia shook her head, explaining softly. "Not everyone chooses to stay with the troupe. Some still hold onto hope for the Order, trying every means to return to Ragunna. A few do succeed, but the price is losing their freedom forever, living day and night under the Order's surveillance."
"Others choose to start new lives in other city-states of Rinascita, some go into seclusion on the Riccioli Islands, away from worldly affairs; others go to Septimont, becoming gladiators, fighting in the arena, hoping glory will buy their way back home someday."
"And some even..."
"roam the seas as pirates."
"So, the number of people the troupe actually takes in each year is very limited."
"I see." Ray seemed thoughtful, suddenly noticing what looked like Green Branch and Laurel Salad in the troupe's dining area. "Isn't that the Order's sacred meal? Why is it here? Shouldn't the exiled harbor resentment toward everything associated with the Order?"
"The Order is the Order; the Sentinel is the Sentinel." Brant picked up a tray, calmly accepting a steaming bowl of seafood stewed noodles from a troupe member serving food. "It was the Order that exiled us, not the Sentinel. Most people in the troupe still hold devout faith in the Sentinel."
"Besides, there's a Revelry laureate in the troupe who personally heard the Sentinel's voice. The Sentinel told him: 'The body is the temple of the spirit; one should consume less of what harms it' and recommended Green Branch and Laurel Salad."
"So that tradition continued within the troupe." Brant glanced at the salad plate. "But honestly... that stuff really doesn't taste good. Want to try some?"
Ray quickly shook his head.
That stuff... a long time ago, when visiting the cathedral, he'd tried it once at a Sister's recommendation.
Let's just say...
it was hard to swallow.
He had no idea how Phoebe managed to eat it.
But Phrolova would probably like that kind of sour, astringent food, right?
...
...
After lunch, it was time to get down to business.
Ray hadn't come to the Fool's Troupe for a vacation. He needed to get the equipment quickly and return to Ragunna.
Brant led him to a storage room and pointed to a corner. "There, that's the one."
It was a black briefcase, plain-looking, even somewhat inconspicuous, showing no sign of being special at all.
Ray walked over, lightly touching the surface of the case. "This is it?"
"Yep." Brant confirmed. "According to Miss Carlotta, the case's password is your employee ID."
Ray nodded, picked up the briefcase, and entered his employee ID.
With a soft click, the lid popped open. The interior was very simple: just one device that could be fixed to the forearm and another device resembling a USB drive.
Ray picked up the arm-worn device, carefully securing it to his left arm, curiosity in his eyes. "What exactly does this thing do?"
Brant frowned slightly, trying hard to recall. "I'm not entirely clear on the specifics... but Miss Carlotta mentioned it seems to be equipment that can mask one's own frequency, able to conceal the user's presence to some extent from Echoes and Phantoms."
"...I see." Ray nodded thoughtfully.
He then picked up the USB drive-like device, examining it carefully.
This must be the so-called virus.
His mission was clear, infiltrate Giacomo's office and use it to copy all the data from his computer.
Good. Now that he had the tools,
All that remained was to wait for the concert to begin.
He wondered how things were going between the Second Young Miss and Phrolova. It probably... wouldn't get too tense, right?
Thinking back to the atmosphere when the two met earlier gave Ray a headache.
One was his boss and girlfriend, albeit fake.
The other was a melancholic landmine woman, who saw him as a substitute.
Two women in the same scene, what kind of good drama could possibly come of that?
They couldn't have... already had a falling out, could they?
Also, I still don't know what exactly it is that Phrolova mentioned, that promise I'm supposed to make...
"Hm? What are you spacing out for?" Brant's hand suddenly waved in front of his eyes.
Ray snapped back to reality, offering a slightly awkward smile. "Sorry, I was just lost in thought for a moment."
"Really?" Brant's gaze fell on the device attached to Ray's arm, his tone eager. "This is a rare opportunity. Want to test its effects first? I've never heard of a device that can mask one's own frequency, making someone invisible to Phantoms and Echoes."
Nearby, Roccia nodded repeatedly, eyes brimming with curiosity. "I'd really like to see it with my own eyes too, whether it's truly that amazing."
Hearing their suggestion, Ray's own interest was piqued. "Alright, to make sure the mission goes off without a hitch, we might as well run a test."
As he spoke, he followed the manual's instructions and activated the device's power supply.
"Next, I just need to pull this down, and it should start up..."
Ray murmured the steps to himself, then set the manual aside. His eyes fixed on the device on his left arm. He took a deep breath and flipped the switch.
Instantly, the device expanded slightly, emitting a peculiar, faint frequency.
Yet the moment the device activated, both Brant and Roccia winced in pain at the same time, their hands flying up to cover their ears in unison.
"What's wrong?" Ray quickly asked, noticing their distress.
"I don't know what happened," Brant explained, fighting through the discomfort. "As soon as the device started, I heard an incredibly grating static noise drilling into my ears. It's really unpleasant."
Roccia kept her hands pressed over her ears. "Me too... that sound is making me dizzy."
Hearing this, Ray was puzzled. "Is that so? Did I maybe operate it wrong?"
He picked up the manual again to skim through it carefully. Suddenly, his eyes caught a line of small print in the notes on the last page:
Note: As the device is still in the development phase, activation may cause significant noise interference for nearby Resonators. This is a normal phenomenon. Ordinary humans and Phantoms cannot perceive this frequency.
This device is intended solely for evading Echoes and Phantoms. Please avoid using it near Resonators to prevent alerting them.
Ray fell silent.
'So what you're saying is, this thing's real function is to announce to the enemy that I'm infiltrating and they should get ready?'
.
.
.
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Bonus Chapter Alert!
If we cross 100 powerstones, there will be a bonus chapter.
Read advance chapters on [email protected]/lost_moon