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The Duke waved for all the maids and butlers to leave, then drew a deep breath.
"Over the years, I have also conducted investigations and research into Soul Hall. This organization hides itself extremely well, leaving almost no public record. But one can always find faint traces of it in history."
A gleam of interest flashed in Ian's eyes. He asked in a low voice, "What traces did you discover?"
This was exactly the opportunity Ian wanted to peer deeper into Soul Hall and, by extension, himself. Not only Ian, but Riddle as well had pricked up his ears. Clearly, the young Dark Lord was also curious about the past of the terrifying being he had encountered and the storms he intended to stir.
"For example, the decline of the great temples and the ever-dwindling number of miracles. Behind these, one finds the shadow of Soul Hall. Throughout history, the same holds true in many events involving great figures."
The Duke's expression became secretive; his eyes carried traces of wariness and hesitation. From time to time, he glanced at Riddle, Ian's wizard servant.
The vision of a great noble allowed him to instantly see the contrast between Riddle's righteous facade and his inner darkness. As for why Ian had taken on such a follower, of course, the Duke knew better than to pry.
Therefore, when discussing his investigations, the Duke did not provide excessive detail. Instead, after briefly mentioning some of his findings, he gave a broad summary of his conclusions.
"I dare not speak of too many specifics, but I can tell you this: Soul Hall is not a benevolent organization. Its existence is always accompanied by conspiracy, slaughter, and darkness."
"For someone like me, dealing with Soul Hall is of little consequence; after all, I'm no saint. But my daughter... she is still too young. I don't want her too deeply entangled with Soul Hall."
It was clear that the duke truly cared about Morgan's situation.
Hearing this, Ian's brows furrowed slightly, and a flicker of thought appeared in his eyes. He asked in a low voice, "Your Grace, do you mean that Soul Hall is harboring some sort of scheme concerning Miss Morgan?"
At that moment, Ian's mind raced. 'What connection did his teacher have with Soul Hall? Could the key figures of Arthurian legend themselves be considered fairy-tale characters?'
Were adult fairy tales still fairy tales?
But his teacher had never mentioned Soul Hall to him in the Twilight Zone. Did she have little involvement with Soul Hall in the future? Or was she deliberately concealing it?
Given that woman's personality, either possibility could be true.
Still, Ian leaned more toward the former. If his teacher were one of Soul Hall's wizards, she would be cloaked in shadow and able to move about the mortal world like the great gray wolf. Instead, she remained holed up in her lonely castle.
Of course, it wasn't impossible that a wicked woman might enjoy being a shut-in.
With such limited information, Ian could not make a definitive judgment.
He fixed his gaze on the Duke, hoping for more information. In the face of Ian's inquiry, the Duke recalled his memories and spoke in a tone laced with helplessness.
"Soul Hall seems to have a particular interest in my daughter. This unsettles and frightens me greatly. I do not wish for her to be drawn into such a dangerous group or power. That is why I am being so frank with you. I hope to borrow your strength to help my daughter escape Soul Hall's grasp."
The duke's voice was filled with sincerity and earnestness.
"Your Grace, I understand your concerns. Soul Hall is indeed no simple matter. I will do my utmost to aid Miss Morgan." Ian inclined his head slightly; his words were flawless and reassuring.
Relief softened the Duke's expression, and his tense shoulders relaxed slightly. He took a deep breath and continued, finally revealing what he had previously withheld.
"Thank you for your generosity, Mr. Prince. The truth is, I know how dark Soul Hall is because I once conducted a deep investigation into the group, particularly one of its wizards named Medivh."
At this, the Duke's brow furrowed tighter, and indignation sharpened his tone.
"Medivh?"
For no clear reason, Ian felt a pang of guilt in his heart, though he remained composed outwardly. After all, he had heard from the great gray wolf that one of his identities was Soul Hall's High Guardian.
The Duke didn't notice Ian's subtle reaction and continued angrily.
"Yes, Medivh. He is completely different from the other Soul Hall wizards. He acts openly and recklessly. He's committed many heinous acts, showing no regard for morality or humanity's restraints."
"I found records of him killing a wise king just because of a rumor. For reasons no one has ever uncovered, he also kidnapped many beautiful, kind noblewomen."
"He even… once forced an entire city's populace to be immersed in some unspeakable filth. No one knows why. And behind every one of these deeds, Soul Hall was there, backing him. That's why I believe this Medivh fellow must embody the ideology of Soul Hall." The duke's voice grew heavy.
His judgment came from a lifetime of experience.
Perhaps some might find it convincing.
But Ian was certain that some misunderstanding or prejudice must be at play.
"Are you sure about this?" Ian's lips twitched slightly, but he quickly regained his composure. His gaze remained steady as if he were listening seriously to every word.
"Of course I am sure. Compared to the other low-profile Soul Hall wizards, Medivh's traces are not so hard to find. There are even records of him molesting God."
The duke's tone was resolute.
"Uh... Are you sure it says molesting and not blaspheming?" Ian felt his whole body go numb. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Riddle bowing his head, his shoulders trembling as if he were desperately trying to suppress laughter.
Seeing the duke nod firmly again, Ian could no longer keep a straight face; his lips and eyelids twitched.
"Forgive me. I suddenly feel a little unwell. I may need to step outside for some fresh air."
The duke paused, then nodded. "By all means."
He found Ian's reaction strange, though he couldn't figure out why.
"I'll be back shortly."
Ian rose and made his way out of the hall and into the manor's garden. The night breeze brushed his cheeks with a cooling touch. After shaking his head and muttering under his breath for a while, he reached the fountain and washed his face.
"These must just be rumors twisted away from the truth!" Ian bent down and scooped up cool water in both hands, splashing it gently on his face. Droplets slid down his cheeks and fell into the pool, sending ripples across its surface.
"Yes, that has to be it. It's just like how the origins of King Arthur became distorted throughout history until those dubious pulp versions of Merlin and Arthur sprang up."
He gave himself a mental pep talk.
A moment later, he drew in a deep breath, straightened his robes, and turned back toward the hall. But when he stepped inside again, he found the atmosphere disturbingly strange.
The duke and duchess sat there with pale faces.
And it was as if they had just suffered a fright.
The moment he stepped back inside, they both shivered in unison. Young Morgan kept her head bowed and her hands gripped tightly onto her skirt; clearly, she had just been scolded.
"What's going on?"
Ian's gaze swept across the duke's family.
Perplexed, he turned to Riddle.
"Well, here's the thing." Riddle suddenly seemed invigorated. With a smile, he took the initiative to explain, even clearing his throat on purpose.
"When the duchess was helping Miss Morgan change clothes, she accidentally came across a book...a work about Medivh. Miss Morgan insisted that it was yours, that it was her teacher's writing, not some indecent book." Riddle gestured toward a book sitting on the dining table.
The Dark Bible, written by the Supreme Magus God-Eater Medivh.
The golden words gleamed vividly across its cover.
Ian immediately understood everything.
Yet, before he could speak, the duke said, "Mr. Prince, I believe you may have misunderstood some of my earlier remarks." The duke forced a smile, but it looked more painful than tearful.
Decades of noble upbringing seemed to crumble in that instant. His carefully trained composure collapsed entirely; no doubt his mind was replaying all the "bad things" he had just said about Medivh over and over.
(End of chapter.)