Do ratmen dream of the sacred tree of spirits?

Chapter 64 Future

Fafnir stood in the audience, reached into his pocket, and gently touched the greeting card.

The kraft paper envelope had smooth edges, and inside was a small, pressed-dry blue flower petal.

— He picked it in the backyard of the grammar school last month, and kept it in a book for two weeks. He wrote the words on the greeting card many times before finalizing it. He used the Elf Flower font, with smooth strokes and even ink.

"That Hobri is a second-class cardinal."

Mr. Hans whispered to Fafnir and Gregory beside him, "explaining" the facts:

"It is said that this little old man used to work at the First University of the Holy Kingdom, and he has only been in the Eastern Region for a few years."

"Damn, I've only seen a few live second-class cardinals and regional bishops in all my years of life."

"If I hadn't won a spot at the banquet through the lottery, I wouldn't have had this opportunity."

Gregory intended to reply to Hans softly, but his voice was not quiet enough to draw the attention of several guests nearby.

"Hey, keep your voice down," Mr. Hans said, feeling a little uncomfortable being watched, but he continued chatting as usual.

"When will you be able to advance to the rank of third-level priest?"

"Yes, yes, keep your voice down, but we're so far away in this secluded corner, no one will notice us."

Gregory shook his head and muttered under his breath:

"It will probably take at least three years. There are no special circumstances right now, so we can only wait patiently step by step."

"And you? Aren't you the captain of the inspection team? When are you going to be promoted to second-level priest?"

"Sigh, becoming a Level 2 clergyman requires approval from the regional church, and who knows when that will take..."

Fafnir listened to their conversation without participating.

In the distance, Bishop Hobri was rambling on about the glorious history of the Church of the God of Death and some documents resembling the Commandments.

Then they performed some church rituals that Fafnir couldn't understand.

Is this a prayer or a blessing? I don't understand...

Ah, and there's also a performance by the choir from the Holy City Cathedral in the Eastern Region. Fafner was pleasantly surprised; he had never seen such a performance in his life.

This time, Hans and Gregory stopped chatting and listened intently to the beautiful melody with Fafner.

This was also the most focused moment for all attendees; some senior priests from the Church of the God of Death would even sing along.

Fafnir, of course, didn't sing along. He had never heard this song before. From the Elvish lyrics, he figured it was probably an expression of blessing and joy.

Mr. Hans and Gregory, of course, wouldn't sing along. Although they were considered senior priests, they had completely forgotten their Elvish...

"Clap clap clap!" Thunderous applause erupted. The choir's performance had ended, and Hobbury's hosting was also drawing to a close.

"Viktor Zaitsev, Third-Rank Bishop, Member of the First Knights Order of the Holy Kingdom, Assistant to the Bishop of Lorraine, Vice-President of the Lorraine Council, Chief Justice of the Lorraine Joint Inquisition"

You have met all the requirements for promotion to First-Class Bishop.

From this moment forward, on behalf of the Temple of Eternal Slumber of the God of Death and the Eastern Region of the Holy Kingdom of Elves, I hereby confer upon you the rank of First-Class Bishop.

The applause rang out and lasted for a long time; most of those present were sincerely congratulating them from their hearts.

Or you could sincerely praise the buffet here for its delicious taste...

Fafnir clapped earnestly, watching Mr. Victor bow to those around him from the stage.

"Alright, everyone, please make yourselves at home." After saying this, Speaker Hoble walked down from the side of the platform, and several people immediately surrounded him to chat.

The atmosphere in the venue relaxed noticeably, and the rest of the banquet was free time. People gathered in twos and threes, with waiters carrying trays moving among them.

Fafnir had originally planned to follow Mr. Hans and Mr. Gregory aside for another chat.

However, someone called out to him.

"Fafner!"

Fafnir turned his head, and Joelle stood a few steps away, wearing a black evening dress, her golden braids coiled behind her head, revealing pointed ears. As always, Lady Cecilia, wearing leather armor, followed behind her.

"Miss Joël, hello!" Fafnir bowed slightly.

Seeing this, Hans and Gregory gave Fafner a look, indicating that they would leave first.

"Fafner, good evening!" Joël returned the greeting to Fafner.

"I saw you before the banquet even started. Did you see me too?"

Fafnir certainly saw Joël; he arrived earlier and watched Joël enter. The two probably even exchanged glances.

But Viscount Lorraine led her in, and Fafnir had no intention of greeting his daughter in front of the Viscount; he had no desire to deal with the Viscount.

"What were you doing just now?" Joelle asked.

"I was just eating," Fafnir replied truthfully.

Which one do you think tastes the best?

Fafner thought for a moment: "The roasted ribs, the sauce is pretty good, and the meat is tender."

Joelle nodded and glanced towards the long table: "The grilled ribs have been removed."

“I know,” Fafner said.

"There were only a few pieces left when I ate it."

"Have you tried anything else?"

"I tried a little bit of everything. The plate couldn't hold too much, so I took a small piece of each."

Joelle glanced at him, then turned and walked towards the long table. Fafnir, assuming she was going to get the food herself, stood still.

After taking two steps, Joël turned back and said, "Fafner, what are you standing there for? Come here."

Fafnir hesitated for a moment, then followed.

A few dishes remained at the other end of the long table. Joël took a clean plate from the waiter, placed a few pieces of roast goose on it, scooped up a spoonful of stewed venison, and handed it to Fafnir.

"They're out of grilled ribs, but this is good too," Joelle said.

"Ah, thank you, Miss Joël." Fafnir felt a little flattered.

Fafnir glanced down at the roast goose and stewed venison on the plate. The roast goose looked juicy, and the stewed venison had a thick, glossy broth.

He could indeed eat a little more, but he was a little embarrassed to get any more.

"Take your time eating." Joël stood beside him, asked the waiter for a glass of juice, and glanced at the people in the hall:

"My dad is talking to Speaker Hobury over there; it'll probably be a long talk."

Fafnir followed her gaze and saw Viscount Lorraine standing on the other side of the hall, surrounded by Speaker Hobri and several men in dark suits, talking about something.

Knight Armand stood half a step behind the Viscount, his expression serious.

"Your dad seems to be in a good mood tonight," Fafnir said casually.

"It's alright," Joelle said, taking a sip of her juice.

"Before he left today, he told me not to wander around the banquet and not to cause trouble for others."

"So, are you just wandering around now?" Fafnir was in a relaxed mood and made a rare teasing remark about Miss Joelle.

"How could that be? I was talking to the teaching assistant, so it certainly doesn't count as wandering around," Joelle replied seriously.

Fafnir smiled but didn't reply. He finished the roast goose on his plate and wiped his mouth with a napkin.

The two were silent for a while.

"Fafner," Joël suddenly said, "will you be teaching those children again next semester?"

"Of course I'll teach you."

"Can I help out? Every Wednesday afternoon, I can teach them to read or do something else."

Fafnir looked up at her: "Are you serious?"

"When did I stop being serious?"

Fafner thought for a moment: "This is not something I can answer for you. You need to obtain Viscount Lorraine's consent. I need to ask Mr. Victor."

But I think it should be fine.

Joelle's lips curved slightly, but he quickly looked away: "Then tell me when you're done asking."

"it is good."

After finishing what was on his plate, Fafnir placed the empty plate on the tray.

"By the way," Fafnir said, "what brings you here today?"

"My father said that the Church of the God of Death has played a significant role in ensuring the stability of Lorraine in recent years."

"Bishop Victor is about to be promoted, so it's only right that I come along."

She glanced at Fafnir:

"As for helping out... I spent over a year in grammar school and learned a lot from books, but those things were close to me but far removed from others."

I want to see what it's like in places further away.

Fafner nodded and didn't ask any more questions.

……

The people in the hall gradually dispersed. Fafnir said goodbye to Hans and Gregory, hesitated for a moment, and then walked towards the corridor on the side of the hall.

The waiter said that the lounge over there was reserved for senior clergy.

The door to the lounge was ajar.

Victor sat in the armchair, unbuttoned the top two buttons of his priest's robe, leaned back, and closed his eyes.

Fafnir knocked lightly on the doorframe twice.

Mr. Victor opened his eyes, saw it was him, and smiled: "Please come in, my little Fafnir."

Fafnir went in and sat down to the side.

Fafnir pulled the envelope out of his pocket and handed it over.

"Hello Mr. Victor, congratulations on your promotion. This is what I wrote."

Victor took it, opened the envelope, and took out the greeting card inside.

On a light-colored cardstock, Fafnir neatly wrote two lines in Elvish cursive script—

"Congratulations to Mr. Victor on his promotion to First Class Bishop."

May your journey be smooth.

The handwriting is neat and the ink is even. A small, dried blue petal is pressed in the lower left corner. Although the color has faded, its original beauty is still evident.

A raven feather was drawn next to it. Although the texture of the feather was not very delicate, it was clear that the artist had put a lot of effort into it.

Mr. Victor looked down for a long time, the candlelight reflecting on his face, his expression slowly softening from weariness.

"Did you press these flowers?" he asked.

"Yes, I picked them from the backyard of the grammar school and kept them for two weeks."

"The feathers are drawn better than last time," Mr. Victor said.

Fafnir paused, then asked, "How did you know about last time?"

"You think I didn't see it?" Victor chuckled.

"You've been drawing on your dorm desk for days. I saw it as soon as I passed by the door."

Fafnir's face flushed slightly, and he didn't reply.

Mr. Victor closed the greeting card, put it in his breast pocket, and patted it.

"Thank you, Fafnir, I like it very much."

"I'm glad you like it." Fafnir was very happy.

Victor leaned back in his chair and remained silent for a few seconds.

"Little Fafnir, I have something to tell you. I'm going to the Holy City Cathedral in the Eastern Region after the next semester ends. Professor Zero might stay a little longer, as the investigation into the Featherfall Period hasn't been completed yet."

Fafnir nodded.

"I want to ask you," Mr. Victor looked at him, his tone calm, "would you like to come with me?"

Fafnir was stunned.

"To the Holy City?"

"Yes,

"There are better resources and more opportunities for learning magic over there. If you stay for a few years, you'll advance to the Enlightened Realm much faster, and I can continue to guide you."

Fafnir opened his mouth, but no words came out.

"It's alright, little Fafnir, you don't need to answer me now," Mr. Victor said. "You have six months to think about it."

Fafnir looked down at his hands, which were resting on his knees.

"Mr. Victor," Fafnir shook his head, "I'm sorry... I... I'm not going."

Victor didn't speak immediately, and there was a moment of silence between them.

Why?

"The school in the East District is just starting to improve, and Anna is too busy to handle everything by herself. Martha and Allen are also just getting started, and they will be recruiting even more children next semester."

I'm leaving; I'm not taking responsibility for them.

And then there are my parents. They still have several years left on their contract at Lorraine Manor. If I go to the Holy City, I won't see them more than a few times a year.

Mr. Victor smiled:

"My little Fafnir, you're always thinking of others' best interests at heart."

"It's alright," Mr. Victor said. "It's fine if you don't want to go, it's good that you have your own ideas... but you have to promise me one thing."

"Okay, what is it?"

"When you are promoted to Enlightened One, or if you encounter any problems in your daily life, remember to write to me often. Don't worry about bothering me."

Fafnir nodded. "Thank you."

Victor stood up from his chair, walked to the door, and then turned back.

"Little Fafnir, I really like that greeting card; the flower petals are pressed so well."

See you later!

Goodbye, Mr. Victor.

Mr. Victor pushed open the door and went out.

Fafnir sat in his chair, listening to the footsteps fade into the distance down the corridor.

He suddenly realized that refusing Victor's invitation was the hardest decision he had ever made in his life.

But perhaps that's right; he didn't want to keep troubling Mr. Victor, he would feel guilty.

As they walked out of the hall, Joël was standing at the door, with Cecilia following behind.

"You haven't left yet?" Fafnir asked.

"Wait for you."

"What are you waiting for me for?"

Joël did not answer, turned and walked toward the carriage, with Fafnir following.

Inside the carriage, Joël leaned back in his seat.

"Where did you go just now?" she asked.

"Go and say a few words to Mr. Victor."

"What did you say?"

Fafnir thought for a moment: "He asked me if I wanted to go to the Holy City with him."

Joelle looked at him: "You agreed?"

"no."

After a moment of silence, Joël lowered her head and ran her finger along the hem of her skirt.

"Fafner, why aren't you going?"

"I have things to do here, and my parents are at school, so I can't leave."

If Eller didn't ask any more questions

She turned her head to look out the window.

The carriage stopped in the square in front of the Lorraine Manor. Tomorrow was a holiday, and Joël could give him a ride home.

Fafnir jumped out of the car.

"Fafner," Joël called out to him through the car window.

"Um?"

See you next semester.

See you next semester.

The carriage drove forward, its wheels rolling over the stone-paved road, gradually disappearing into the distance.