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Steampunk: Sixth Era Epic-Chapter 676 - Time of Death
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Chapter 676: Chapter 676: Time of Death
Chapter 676 -676: Time of Death
Although the Raven Club had few members, it was true that many crows were kept inside, and even the oil paintings hanging on the corridor walls depicted images of crows. When Shard and Sister Delphine, led by a man, met the rumored boy in the study deep within the house, the first thing Shard noticed was the crow in the birdcage hanging by the door.
With its pitch-black feathers and red eyes, the crow flapped its wings restlessly inside the cage as the trio entered, seemingly very uneasy.
The man leading the way didn’t linger long in the room, and after introducing the guests to the room’s master, he left.
The door closed behind Shard, and the study was somewhat dim. It was clearly daytime, but the curtains were tightly shut, and only the gas lamps on either side of the wall provided illumination. The lampshades of the gas lamps appeared as if they hadn’t been cleaned in quite some time, which made the light exceptionally dim.
Coupled with the occasional sound of crows flapping their wings and the strange scent of burning spices in the study, it indeed resembled the room of a professional diviner.
The study was large, divided into the eastern bookshelves and desks and the western sofa set. Only the two gas lamps in the western part were lit, and the so-called “boy” was sitting on the sofa, waiting for the two guests.
Shard pushed the wheelchair, letting the metal wheels roll over the red carpet. He took a seat on the sofa opposite the boy, not in the center but on one side, because the wheelchair stopped on the outside of the sofa.
Between him and the boy, on the coffee table, were two cups of steaming tea; it seemed that someone had calculated the exact time the appointed guests would arrive and knew there would be two people coming.
But the “boy” didn’t look much like a boy. Although seated, one could estimate he was about 5 feet (around 1.52m) tall. His limbs were abnormally thick, but his body looked frail. Not only that, but his head was disproportionately large compared to his body, and although he wore a turban, Shard could still tell the boy had no hair.
He wore a pair of glasses, and his two thick hands were folded and laid on his lap. As Shard examined him, the boy also scrutinized Shard. This made Shard doubt whether the person before him was a boy or an underdeveloped adult.
[First Ring or Two Rings.]
“Hello, I am John Watson, and this is my sister, Mary Watson.”
As Shard spoke, Sister Delphine, wearing a veil, nodded slightly. Because the room was so dim, the nun sitting there really looked like a life-sized, exquisite doll. After all, her hands, exposed outside, looked too perfect under the dim yellow gaslight.
“I’m sorry, Mary has had some minor issues with her legs since childhood, so she’s a bit introverted and doesn’t like talking to strangers. I’ll be communicating with you on her behalf.”
Shard deployed his excellent acting skills and believed he truly had talent.
“I understand.”
“The boy” said, his voice quite youthful, which did resemble that of a real boy.
“How may I address you?”
Shard asked politely.
“Joey Barton, they usually call me Little Joey, or Mr. Barton.”
The boy spoke again, and because this sentence was longer, one could discern that his accent was a very authentic Milestone local accent. In contrast, Shard’s accent was more Tobesk, while Sister Delphine’s was always standard Draleon.
“I’m delighted to see you on this gloomy Sunday morning, Mr. Barton.”
Shard glanced again at Sister Delphine sitting in the wheelchair beside him:
“The main reason for our visit is my sister. I’ve heard about your extraordinary abilities and wanted to know about Mary’s future… I’m truly concerned about her. She spends her days reading at home, occasionally tending to flowers or playing with my orange cat, but she rarely allows the servants to push her around the manor… uh, I mean to take a stroll in the streets, so we’ve come to you to find out what her future holds.”
Using “an aristocrat unwilling to reveal his identity” as an identity explained his somewhat strange behavior thus far, adding mystery and aiding in concealing his identity.
“Mr. Watson, do you wish to change the future?”
Joey Barton inquired, his black eyes fixed on Shard, who wondered why the other side seemed so tired so early.
Shard immediately shook his head:
“No, no, I just want to be aware of the future, or at least be psychologically prepared before that day comes.”
As he spoke, he took out an envelope with money prepared in advance from his pocket and placed it beside the teacup on the coffee table.
Joey Barton’s eyes swept over the envelope:
“Alright, I can divine for you the fate of your future deaths.”
“That’s great, is there anything we need to prepare in advance? I’ve heard that the diviners of the Prophet’s Society even need the exact time of birth to perform divination.”
“No, there’s no need for that trouble, my eyes can tell me the answer directly.”
“Well, that’s wonderful, what’s the answer?”
Shard asked curiously, Mr. Barton paused for a moment, pursed his very thick lips:
“It’s not something you can discern with just a glance; it requires the accompaniment of a simple ritual. However, before that, I can use other methods of divination to calculate your fates. Understanding you better can increase the success rate of divining death,” he said.
Bending down, he retrieved a set of Divination Cards from under the coffee table. Then he spread them out across the table in a row of nine cards.
With his right hand, he gestured for Shard to pick any card. After considering for a moment, Shard picked the one in the top right corner, which, when turned over, surprisingly revealed “Death.”
“Hmm?”
This genuinely startled him, for after Priest Augustus had turned over this very card a month before, he had indeed died:
“What does this mean? Am I going to die?”
“I’ll choose the one next to it,” came the slightly icy voice of Sister Delphine, snapping Shard back to reality. He flipped over the adjacent card, and under the dim yellow light, it was “Flames.”
Placing both cards face up, Shard set them beside the envelope filled with money:
“Mr. Barton, what does this mean? I simply intended to divine for Mary, but… could it be that I… I’m doomed to misfortune?”
“No, divination is just divination, please don’t overthink it. Consider this a part of the preparation. Now, I shall divine death for you.”
Mr. Barton didn’t put away the Divination Cards on the table; instead, he took another new card from his pocket and held it in front of his right eye. Shard narrowed his eyes, for the card in Joey Barton’s hand wasn’t a Divination Card, it was a Roder Card.
“The boy” first looked towards Sister Delphine in the wheelchair and held the card for quite some time before setting it down. He didn’t show the face of the card the entire time, preventing Shard from seeing what it was.
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“Miss Mary Watson can live for another twelve years,” he said.
“Twelve years, but she will only be in her thirties after twelve years… May I ask, what is the cause of death you see?”
“It is difficult to describe. Miss Mary Watson seems to die turned to a pile of ashes,” he said.
Shard frowned:
“This isn’t the outcome I had anticipated. Are you suggesting she will encounter a fire?”
The boy shook his head, without speaking.
Shard then looked towards Sister Delphine, who sat in the wheelchair, still maintaining her posture with hands folded neatly on her lap. She too shook her head slightly, indicating there was no need to probe further into the question.
“Then please continue with the divination, divine my death,” said Shard, sitting upright.
The boy continued to hold up the card in front of his eyes.
But this time, he didn’t give an answer quickly. Instead, he suddenly put the card down and looked directly at Shard, then covered his eyes with the Roder Card again, furrowing his brow, apparently seeing something unbelievable.
After setting the card down, he even leaned forward slightly to look at Shard:
“How could this be?”
“What is it, may I ask?”
Although unsure of the man’s divination skills, Shard found his mannerism decidedly intimidating.
“It’s odd, I see that you die from a collapsing great tower.”
This manner of death at least seemed more normal than Sister Delphine’s death to ashes.
“And the time of death?”
He asked curiously.
“The boy,” Joey Barton, with a taut face, tapped his thick fingers rapidly on the couch to convey his disquiet. He didn’t speak immediately, and even the crows at the door maintained their silence.
A moment’s stillness seemed to make the dim room even more obscure; whether it was “the boy” sitting across the coffee table or the veiled nun beside him, it all made Shard feel increasingly uneasy.
It was a sign of inspiration, him capturing fragments of the future. Shard understood that he was about to hear an incredible answer.
“Ten months ago, at the turn of the year 1853 of the Common Era Calendar.”
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