Chapter 17: The Manor Feast

Chapter 17: The Manor Feast

Sylen knelt behind a fir tree, hands clasped before his chest, head bowed in prayer.

In the distance stood an exquisite mansion. Night had already fallen, the moonlight was clear, and the cold, starry sky silently watched over everything happening below.

After finishing his prayer, Sylen looked up at the sky with anticipation, hoping for that dark figure to appear.

Pfft!

A white thing popped into existence out of thin air.

It was a fluffy little creature, half cat, half rabbit, floating in mid-air with a large tail swishing back and forth.

What a weird thing! Sylen had never seen such an odd animal. Then again, he hadn't seen many land animals, anyway...

Wait! He had been praying to the Lord of the Abyss, so what in the world was this thing?!

He immediately drew the Dwarven Longsword he had seized from Anthony Gulehan, pointing it at the white creature, ready to chop it down if it made any sudden move!

"How dare you, Seleren Moon Tide?!" The strange creature glared at him with displeasure, its voice shrill. "You dare point a sword at the Divine Servant under the Lord's throne!"

Sylen shuddered at hearing his full name.

"...Divine Servant?!"

This thing... was a servant of the Lord of the Abyss?!

The merman youth immediately lowered his sword, feeling ashamed. "Forgive me, I didn't know your identity! I've never seen such a weird creature before, and I thought..."

"Hmph, that's better!" The strange creature flew up to him. "The Master is busy with his affairs, so He sent me to help you."

Sylen felt a twinge of disappointment. He had hoped the Lord of the Abyss would descend in person like last time...

But then he thought again—the Lord was busy with great matters, and His attention must be fixed on grand undertakings. He'd only been an Apostle for a day, with so little experience. How could he dare ask the great god to spare Him a thought?

The fact that the Lord of the Abyss was willing to send a servant was already something to be thankful for. As far as he knew, most of the gods worshipped by humans never responded to their followers' prayers at all.

He bowed his head humbly. "I sincerely welcome you, esteemed Divine Servant. May I ask your name?"

"Call me Xiaoqi."

This weird creature was more like a pet than a servant of the god. But Sylen didn't dare question the Lord of the Abyss's tastes.

Xiaoqi flew over to Sylen, its crimson eyes studying the youth, as if sizing him up. "Sylen, tell me what your plan is."

"I planned to sneak into the Gulehan estate, but it looks like the manor has guests today..."

Sylen hid behind the tree, pointing at the distant mansion. Though it was already late at night, the mansion's windows still blazed with light. The glow illuminated the courtyard, where two lavishly decorated carriages were parked.

Xiaoqi poked half its face out from behind the tree, sneaking a look. "Does Old Gulehan have guests over often?"

"Yes, sometimes his friends, sometimes business associates. Guests usually stay at the estate."

"Why don't you wait until tomorrow night?"

Sylen shook his head hard. "I don't want to delay a single moment! Every second I wait, my people suffer another second of torment. And I'm afraid that if too much time passes, people will notice Anthony Gulehan is missing and tell Old Gulehan. Once he's on alert, it'll be much harder for me to make a move."

"So the sooner you move, the better."

"Exactly, Xiaoqi, can you keep watch for me?"

Xiaoqi flew around Sylen once, as if testing the distance. "I can't go too far from you, but keeping watch should be no problem. But you'll have to handle the fighting yourself."

"Of course! I can fight on my own! For the Lord of the Abyss, I'll become a great warrior!"

A blush crept across the merman youth's pale cheeks. He was glad it was nighttime—Xiaoqi probably couldn't see.

"If it comes to worst, just kill all the witnesses." Xiaoqi wagged its big tail, speaking firmly. "As long as there are no witnesses, no one will know you snuck in!"

Sylen's mouth hung open, dumbfounded, words stuck in his throat. Was... was that okay? Truly worthy of a god's servant—having been through thick and thin, acting so boldly. Compared to Xiaoqi, he was still way too conservative...

Xiaoqi looked pleased with itself for a moment, then spoke seriously: "If you run into an enemy you can't beat, just run. Staying alive is what matters."

I'll never run. Sylen thought to himself. What kind of warrior runs away in disgrace? This is a test from my god, and I have to see it through!

The boy and the creature waited silently in the woods. When the new moon reached its peak, most of the mansion's windows had gone dark, with only the biggest banquet hall on the second floor still lit.

Sylen slipped through the night, creeping toward the estate.

***

Old Gulehan was in an especially good mood today.

His old friend, Baron Varick, and the Baroness had come to visit him. The Baron and Old Gulehan had once been comrades-in-arms, and now that old friends were reunited, the warmth came naturally. Old Gulehan had prepared a feast, bringing out his finest aged wine and specialty dishes to entertain his honored guests.

The banquet hall was brightly lit. The three hosts and guests were dressed in formal wear, with several well-groomed, well-mannered servants attending to them throughout the meal.

The hosts and guests clinked glasses, laughed and chatted, reminiscing about old times—utterly delighted.

"Gulehan, why is your young master not here?" The Baron had drunk a few too many cups, and his voice had grown louder accordingly.

Old Gulehan shook his head emphatically. "Don't even mention that boy! A friend came to visit him, and the two of them ran off hunting!"

The Baroness laughed, her whole body shaking. "Ah, the young are so full of energy. I wonder what kind of prey they'll bring back?"

"Alas, don't even bring it up!" Old Gulehan sighed heavily. "They're not hunting animals—they're hunting slaves. Utterly useless! I'll have to discipline him properly when he returns. How can he just kill slaves at will? They're valuable property, what a waste!"

The Baron and his wife exchanged a knowing glance. The word "slave" had struck a nerve.

Gulehan had navigated the business world for years and was skilled at reading people. The moment his two honored guests wore that expression, he understood exactly what was going on.

"My old friend, when I heard you were coming to visit, I had the finest delicacies prepared in advance. I guarantee your trip will not be in vain!"

He clapped his hands. The steward standing behind him bowed respectfully and withdrew. Before long, the banquet hall doors swung open, and two burly servants carried in a plank the size of a door, covered with a white cloth.

The other servants swiftly cleared away the leftover food and dishes, making room for the burly servants to set the plank on the table.

Then the steward returned, escorting a female slave. She had long hair draped over her shoulders, was barely clothed, and held a silver harp in her arms. Her eyes were bound with a black cloth—she was blind.

The steward kept only the two burly servants and dismissed the rest, ordering them not to enter no matter what sounds they heard. The servants understood. They had experienced similar "feasts" many times and were familiar with the routine. With no need to attend to their masters, they could drink, gamble, and slack off.

As if to mask the commotion to come, the steward ordered the female slave to begin playing music. As the pleasant, flowing sound of the harp filled the air, the steward solemnly closed the heavy doors, walked to the end of the table, bowed, and then—like a magician performing a trick—flung the white cloth off the plank.

A young male slave lay on the plank, his hands and feet bound tightly with shackles, unable to move. A leather strap was stuffed in his mouth, preventing even a sound. The only things he could move were his beautiful, glowing blue eyes.

The Baron and Baroness craned their necks. Far from being shocked by the bizarre sight, they instead wore expressions of longing and curiosity, as if they had guessed this all along.

After a long moment, the Baron spoke in admiration: "I had a feeling it might be this..."

The Baroness cut him off, asking urgently: "Mr. Gulehan, is the rumor true that mermaid blood can prolong one's life?"

Gurehan, nearly sixty, still had jet-black hair and a vigorous build, while the baron, his contemporary, was already wrinkled and gray. The stark contrast forced the distinguished guests to believe the folk tales.

Like many nobles, once they aged, they began to fear decay and death, willing to spend fortunes to extend their lives, as if trying to clutch the last rays of sunset. Hearing that their old friend Gurehan possessed a secret to longevity, they rushed over without delay.

Old Gurehan burst into laughter: "Isn't my living example proof enough? Mermaid blood is a treasure—it restores one's youth. My foolish son has wasted who knows how much of it. Tell me, isn't he a spendthrift!"

He then teased the baron: "Mermaid flesh also makes a man more virile, better in the bedroom..."

The baron and his wife were thrilled and shocked. They had long heard that Old Gurehan not only traded slaves but also kept many in his own estate. They had assumed he was merely lecherous, but now it was clear—so this was what the slaves were really for!

"I heard my old friends were coming, so I set aside this male slave for you to savor." Old Gurehan was somewhat self-satisfied, as if he were the best host you'll ever meet. "The female slave is prettier, but the male is tougher. It's best to consume the flesh and blood while the slave is still living."

Old Gurehan shot the steward a look.

The steward produced a glass. A servant unlocked the shackle on the male slave's left wrist, and the two of them held his arm tight so he couldn't resist.

The steward slit the male slave's wrist with a small knife. Blood dripped into the glass, quickly forming a shallow pool. The steward then poured a pot of tea infused with petals and leaves into the cup. The blood thinned to a pink hue, with petals spinning in the mix.

The male slave, gagged, could only emit muffled whimpers. The servants swiftly re-locked the shackles. The female slave's harp playing faltered for a moment; her skin was unnaturally pale, and her inner wrist was covered in scars, old and new—the old ones scabbed over, the fresh ones looked like they were from this morning.

Old Gurehan, with an air of condescension, presented the glass to the baroness. "This is 'Elixir of Youth,' my secret recipe. You won't taste any blood at all."

The baroness, skeptical, raised the glass and drank it down in one go. "Ah, it's even a bit sweet. So does drinking this keep you young forever?"

Old Gurehan laughed heartily: "You must drink it regularly. I drink a cup every morning and night, and I've kept it up for over a decade. But they say soaking in mermaid blood does even more for a woman's skin."

The baroness glared at her husband, pretending to be annoyed: "Why didn't you bring me to see Lord Gurehan sooner? If I'd known about this years ago, I'd be so beautiful by now!"

"Honey, you're beautiful just the way you are," the baron said with an awkward smile.

Gurehan gave the steward another look.

The steward flicked his wrist and jammed the knife into the male slave's eye socket!

The baroness cried out, instinctively covering her eyes.

The blade twisted skillfully, scooping out the eyeball in seconds. The steward had done this so often it was second nature.

He dropped the bloody eyeball into another glass and filled it with wine. The eyeball floated in the red wine, then dissolved completely.

The steward turned and did the same to the slave's other eye. Old Gurehan, meanwhile, offered the glass to the baron.

"Drink up, old friend—it's good for your eyes." Old Gurehan patted the baron's shoulder. "My vision is better now than in my youth; I can hit a target fifty paces off when I'm hunting. You should improve yours too, so you can appreciate your wife's beauty even more."

That line made both guests beam. Old Gurehan had long noticed that, though the baron was the husband, the wife held the purse strings. He wasn't just using up a slave to entertain—he was doing business. What he consumed today would be recouped many times over from the baron and his wife in the future.

"If you like, you can buy a few slaves to keep for yourselves. I'll give you the best price."

The baron licked his lips excitedly, then hesitated. "I'm tempted, truly, but I've recently converted to the God of Dawn. The doctrine forbids keeping slaves..."

"That's no problem!" Old Gurehan laughed. "You can pay a sum to 'redeem' the slave, making him a free man. The redemption fee becomes his debt to you. To repay it, he 'voluntarily' serves you; if he can't, he offers his body parts as collateral. That doesn't violate the doctrine."

"My old friend, you're the clever one!" The baron raised his glass. "To you, my wise comrade."

The baroness joined in the toast: "To Lord Gurehan, who brings us youth and vitality!"

The baron said, "No time like the present—I'll 'redeem' this slave today..."

Old Gurehan waved a hand, stopping him: "This slave is already ruined; I wouldn't sell you damaged goods. When I get new stock, I'll notify you first to pick the best at the finest price. As for this crippled one, he's today's treat for you both."

He gestured to the steward. The steward understood, reversing his grip on the knife and driving it straight into the male slave's chest!

A sound of tearing flesh followed. When the steward turned around, he held a still-beating heart in his hand.

"The mermaid's heart is the most delicious and nourishing organ—better than any tonic eaten raw."

Old Gurehan took the heart, raised it high above his head. Blood dripped from his fingertips. It was a bloody sacrifice, and he was the priest presiding over the ritual.

"My friends, I offer this to—"

—Crash!

The glass window of the banquet hall shattered under a tremendous force!

Countless shards reflected the moonlight, scattering like a billion beams of light.

A youth leaped from the night into the lamplight. His clothes were ragged, like a beggar's, yet he brandished a gleaming sword. Wild hair whipped around a pair of burning blue eyes. He seemed less a living man than a demon crawling from hell—a ghost consumed by vengeance!

"Gurehan!" he roared. "I've come to kill you!"