Charles's manor was no more cluttered or untidy than most single men's homes; everything was neatly arranged, and the windowsills were free from dust. As a "craftsman," he was financially secure, though he found it necessary to keep many of his activities confidential, which made it impractical to hire a large, permanent staff—so he instead engaged help on an hourly basis. Upon a quick glance, Algier noticed little had changed since his last visit—the furnishings were simple, with no fine decorative pieces, paintings, or sculptures, resembling that of a typical middle-class household. Of course, Algier knew Charles was quite wealthy, merely indifferent to the notion of refinement. He might spend several hundred pounds on a limited-edition wine, or offer a whole house to support a mistress, yet he would never waste a single penny on fine rugs, bone china, gilded tableware, or works of art by renowned painters. "A glass of Sunia's blood wine," Algier said, his expression unchanged, yet his words and gestures clearly conveyed that his purpose was simply to enjoy the wine. Charles shrugged. "You should be grateful that I don't have the habit of preserving Lérand's memories." He walked to the small bar in the living room, retrieved a beautifully crafted Sunya blood wine, and opened two cups. While Alger sat down on a sofa, he reached up to gently press behind his neck, as if easing some discomfort in his cervical region. With this gesture shielding his movements, he naturally glanced around, quickly surveying the areas he had previously been unable to see. Since Charles had been careless about arranging decorative items, Alger completed his inspection swiftly, pausing only briefly on the glass window of the distant cabinet. Through the glass, he spotted some dried grasses and flowers—some with red edges, others with blood moon blossoms and monkey-faced leaves—all belonging to plant types common in the southern continent but virtually absent in the northern one. Alger then turned his gaze back, calmly watching as Charles approached with the wine bottle and glasses. He reached out to catch the conversation, chatting with the other about various maritime matters until the half bottle of Sunia blood wine was finished. Seeing this, Aljere smiled and excused himself, leaving. Five minutes after he departed, Charles, who had been quietly sitting, savoring the light buzz, suddenly stood up and went to the staircase, opening the wooden door leading down to the basement. "Does he have any suspicions?" "None." "In any case, you no longer belong here—move to our place as soon as possible." "I still have some commissions to complete." "You don't need to. After all, you won't be in touch with them anymore—you've already been reborn." "Understood." ... At a distance of two houses, Aljere sat on a bench in a resident's garden, holding his earlobe with his right hand, listening to the voices carried on the wind. ... Sibarang, Bérens Harbor, outside a rather ordinary house. "Really, because of your strained relationship with the Church of Knowledge, is that why you've been encouraging me to seek the 'Divine Linguistic Proficiency' incantation?" Daniz wiped a strand of sweat from his forehead and looked at Anderson with growing concern. Anderson smiled half-self-deprecatingly, half-unconcerned. "It can't be described as merely strained." "Then it's outright hostility?" Daniz interrupted promptly. Anderson glanced at him. "The negative effects of your armor might not be as bearable as you think." He paused, then added with a chuckle, "More accurately, neither I nor anyone from the Church of Knowledge particularly enjoys interacting with the other side." Daniz held the armor in his other hand, a bit at a loss. "But how exactly do I request this incantation?" "Simply approaching a cleric of the Divine Church with matters of mysticism would result in being sent to the sealed realm!" At present, Daniz was merely bold—he hadn't yet reached the level of foolishness. Anderson spread his hands and said, "It's simple—just mention my name, state that you have an urgent matter to attend in Xibayang, and that you don't have time to learn the Duta language. You're too afraid to hire a local translator, so you'll have to ask for their help and request a few 'Language Proficiency' talismans. During this process, show off your knowledge of multiple languages from the North Continent, so the missionaries understand that you're not incapable of learning Duta—just short on time. Then they'll give you questions to answer. As long as you score reasonably well, you'll earn the talismans." "Examination," Daniz murmured, the word familiar, and his temple involuntarily twitched. He forced a smile. "Are you afraid of exams, which is why you haven't gone yourself?" He had only meant to casually fill in some words to mask his discomfort, but he noticed Anderson's expression had stiffened for a moment. So you do have something to be afraid of after all… Daniz chuckled softly to himself, suddenly feeling confident. He strode into the ordinary house and found it more like a collection of classrooms than the missionary center of the Church of Knowledge in Xibian. Then he spotted an elderly man with white hair. Though the man wore no official attire of the Church of Knowledge, his distinct scholarly air convinced Daniz that he was at least a bishop—something he had felt before on the ship's captain. "Good day," Daniz smiled warmly, his shadow cloak unfastened and dressed in plain garments, as he approached. The elder watched him come close and spoke slowly, "Daniz." "...," Daniz froze, his body stiff, his mind racing with questions: "Does he know me?" "How does he know me?" "Could it be my warrant of arrest has spread beyond the sea?" The elder glanced at him and asked without further pause, "Are you here to claim the 'Knowledge of Languages' seal?" “Yes…,” Daniz nodded slowly, suddenly feeling as though he had no secrets in front of the scholar-like elder. The elder gently nodded. “Are you preparing to go to the realm ruled by Katami and Mesanyes?” “Yes,” Daniz remained somewhat dazed. The scholar-like elder reached into his coat pocket and produced four bronze talismans. “These will last for two months—should be sufficient.” “…,” Daniz茫然 accepted them, pausing several seconds before saying, “That’s it?” That’s it? Didn’t they still need an examination? “Don’t you want them?” the scholar-like elder smiled gently. “No, not at all!” Daniz shook his head vigorously, already speaking as his mind caught up, “How do you know me? How do you know I want the ‘Language of Understanding’ talisman?” The scholar-like elder’s eyes softened with a touch of compassion, and he spoke slowly. “Your captain contacted me.” "When you were about to disembark, you kept calling out nonstop, rushing straight into the dock—she had already prepared the 'Language Comprehension' incantation for you." As he spoke, the elder man shook his head, his gaze complex, as if observing one of his very careless students. "…I should have anticipated this. A so meticulous captain wouldn't have overlooked the language barrier." Daniz longed to raise his hand and slap himself. Upon seeing Daniz's expression shift, the older man shook his head again and then asked, "You didn't actually come here on your own, did you? I was just about to seek you through divination." "Ah, yes—it was Anderson Hude who suggested it." Daniz replied immediately. The scholar-like elder paused, his expression suddenly darkening. At that moment, Anderson was sitting in the shaded area outside the house, bending a twig and drawing patterns freely on the exposed grass, calmly waiting for Daniz to appear. He had no doubts about whether the subpar "Hunter" would succeed in obtaining the "Master of Language" sigil—once Daniz mentioned "Admiral Edwena of the Ice Mountain," everything would fall into place, the only difference being how many rounds of the examination would be required. Just as he had finished sketching the head of "King of the North" Yurisun, familiar footsteps approached from within, growing louder and closer. Anderson's hand, holding the twig, paused for a moment, lifted his head, and turned toward the door, where Daniz was now walking toward him, carrying a thick stack of papers, his expression complex. "You... failed the exam?" Anderson smiled warmly, showing no concern whatsoever about what would happen if he didn't secure the "Master of Language" sigil. Daniz shook his head blankly. "No exam at all." “...” Anderson was momentarily taken aback, then asked with a growing sense of clarity, "Did your captain offer any assistance?" Danzis nodded, handing Anderson the stack of papers as he spoke: "The bishop asked me to convey to you that true hunters don't rely solely on instinct or on information about their prey—they must also understand the prey's psychology, and master a wide range of additional knowledge." "This is the material he provided for you." Anderson's expression briefly grew complex before settling into normalcy, and he chuckled lightly: "Well, that's not too overwhelming." Danzis hesitated, then managed to suppress the sudden burst of laughter, speaking with serious intent: "This is merely a directory. The bishop said you should aim to read through all the books listed within two years." Anderson's smile finally froze in place. ... Dix Bay, Escon Port. Klein, much like a regular passenger heading to the Southern Continent, booked a ticket for the eastern Baryan and boarded the passenger ship—a vessel combining steam and sail, equipped with numerous cannons. As the ship's whistle sounded, it departed the dock and soon entered the turbulent sea. Along the way, Klein noticed the Dese fleet of the Ruin Kingdom patrolling the safe channels, as if on guard for something. "The unusual changes in the turbulent sea must have drawn the attention of the Ruin military as well... In that case, the Spiritual Order will likely be unable to conduct unimpeded investigations in this region. Of course, a fleet cannot monitor every channel here." Standing in his cabin and gazing out the window, Klein felt a mix of sudden realization and quiet reflection. At that moment, he heard a layered, ethereal sound of prayers, and hurried to the gray mist above to investigate. This time, the prayer is for "The Hangings," who asks "The Fool" to convey the message to "The Hermit"—it appears that "The Craftsman" may have been taken over by a sect or a secret organization, and some assistance is hoped for.