A large envelope, like an invitation carrying great hopes, was presented properly before Nolan.
By the time morning came the next day, the Carian Knights had already begun their work, leading the other knights into motion.
They settled this group of special guests and then packed them off all the way to the mysterious Shadow Keep.
In truth, the matter was simple.
Until now, only one thing had truly been troubling Messmer.
All signs indicated that Nolan had appeared out of thin air from the Sacred Tower.
The Sacred Tower and the Tower Settlement had indeed been destroyed, and every Hornsent inside had indeed died, but that alone was not enough to put him completely at ease.
Messmer knew well that at the top of the Sacred Tower high in the heavens stood an ancient Gate of Divinity, the place where the Hornsent performed their summoning ritual.
And at its core, the summoning ritual was meant to receive the power of the Crucible. The most important sacrifice required was neither Numen nor Flying Dragon, but the Hornsent themselves.
The horns of the Hornsent were the medium used in the ritual to receive the power of the Crucible of Life.
One had to understand that the Hornsent had always been known for their madness and extremism.
To escape their present desperation, they might very well gamble everything and sacrifice their entire race to create a godlike being.
To Messmer, that possibility absolutely could not be ignored.
After all, those people were madmen through and through. As long as it was for the "god" they believed in, any lunacy seemed perfectly natural to them.
Either Nolan had truly come bearing the sacred mission bestowed upon him by his sister and mother, like a messenger carrying the light of the goddess's mercy.
Or he was the avenger of the Hornsent, someone who had learned of Melina by chance and arranged for an impostor to take her place.
It was even possible that the man had simply deceived the innocent Melina.
Breaking through those layers of doubt was not difficult. A single bloody massacre would be enough to reveal the truth, just as Moonrithyll had personally witnessed Nolan destroy all of Bonny Village.
So decisive, so cold, so merciless that even a warrior like Moonrithyll, accustomed to killing, could not help admiring him in secret.
Everything followed naturally from there. Messmer sent Nolan an invitation. Though that man dared to arrogantly call himself a Lord, as long as he was a Lord of Mother's, that was enough.
Moonrithyll noticed Nolan staring fixedly in a certain direction, so she asked curiously, "What are you looking at?"
Nolan lifted his chin slightly toward the huge Wicker Man blazing ahead of them. "That Golem."
Following Nolan's gaze, Moonrithyll saw the giant, more than ten meters tall.
Set into the giant's chest was a stone mask formed from curving, winding lines, glimmering strangely in the firelight.
"Oh, that. It's a war weapon made by the Forge Smiths! I've fought those big fellows before, and I have to say, they're pretty powerful. They're excellent for killing Hornsent!"
As Moonrithyll spoke, she raised a token in her hand and held it before the city guard.
The front of the token was carved with exquisite flame patterns, as if it might burst into fire at any moment.
"What, are you interested in that big thing?" Moonrithyll raised an eyebrow.
"Mm. I am. Don't forget, I'm a Lord too. My territory is Limgrave. Well, one-third of Limgrave, actually," Nolan said.
"Haha, I see. Looking for war weapons that might be useful on the battlefield? In that case, you'd be better off kidnapping a few Sorcerers from the Haima Conspectus."
"Trust me, Sorcerers are far more useful than these clumsy wooden-headed things."
Moonrithyll instantly grew animated, looking exactly like a street vendor hawking her wares, except what she was selling was half a living person.
"But speaking of Sorcerers, the legendary ones are the truly impressive ones."
"For example, the noble Queen of our nation. Her mastery of magic is practically unmatched."
"Of course, the two princesses aren't bad either."
The dagger was finally revealed.
"I get what you're trying to say." Nolan could not help sighing, a trace of helplessness showing on his face.
"You really do? Good. You're far better than that boy Messmer." Moonrithyll smiled in satisfaction, then strode toward the city gate.
Trina and Nolan followed close behind her, the little goddess filled with curiosity and confusion.
After entering the city gate, the three found the city strangely quiet. Aside from the soldiers guarding it, the streets were empty.
Trina could not help asking, "Why can't I see any Numen? Shouldn't there be many Numen here?"
Moonrithyll glanced back at Trina and explained,
"Pain drives people mad very easily. The Numen of the Land of Shadow have been tortured for hundreds, even thousands of years. Anyone would go mad, and madness usually comes with danger."
"So to keep them from harming others, and also to protect them, Messmer gathered them all in one place."
"Thousands of years!?" That length of time was beyond what Trina had expected. Living for thousands of years in the form of a Pot-Person, that agony was hard to even imagine.
The gentle goddess grew angry.
Trina lifted her head, her gaze falling on a grand statue of the goddess in the city's central square.
She stared at the statue, beginning to imagine what kind of person this mysterious elder brother truly was.
After a while, she suddenly turned to Moonrithyll and said, "Come to think of it, I still don't know how old this brother is, or who his father is."
Moonrithyll said, "That, actually, I don't know either."
"He just appeared out of nowhere, carrying the title 'Son of Marika.'"
"But one thing is certain. He has existed for a very long time, far longer than Prince Radahn and Prince Rykard."
Moonrithyll shook her head lightly, a little emotional when she mentioned the Queen's two sons.
When she and Rellana left, one of those princes had been a little brat in open-crotch pants, while the other was still swaddled in blankets.
So much time had passed. Those two princes had probably long since forgotten them.
"I wonder if the two princes are doing well now?" Moonrithyll tilted her head slightly and murmured.
No one could answer that question.
She had already learned from the others that Rykard and Radahn had become lords ruling their own separate territories.
But holding power did not mean life would go as one wished.
Whether they were living well was something only they themselves could know, and only they could judge.
"How did the world become like this?" Moonrithyll did not know who she was asking.
"Who knows," Nolan answered casually.