The Troupe of Fools members very skillfully tied Brant up five ways, handing him over to the Fisalia Family—one hand money, one hand goods—along with the wanted poster.
On the flower ship Echo, Noah watched the crowd drag box after box of Shell Credits aboard while casually asking the blueberry little cake beside him:
"What are your plans next? Need any help?"
"We need to rescue Captain Brant tonight. We've done this many times—we should be able to jailbreak on our own. Thanks for the offer. Then..."
Roccia counted on her fingers, seriously planning:
"Then we'll tour a few less wealthy islands for a few days, distributing the bounty from Fisalia to those who truly need it."
Hearing this, Noah nodded thoughtfully, then asked again:
"There's something I'm very curious about. The Troupe of Fools clearly isn't wealthy—why do you always distribute all the wealth you get?"
"I'm not sure either."
Roccia shook her head lightly, her soft voice ringing out:
"But every time we throw money, everyone laughs especially loud—it's particularly lively. Captain Brant loves seeing that scene."
"Rather than hoarding wealth like nobles, he prefers letting it accompany laughter, gifting it to those who need it more."
"Pero says—when someone challenges 'selfishness,' all accustomed to its existence feel surprised."
Saying this, Roccia looked up at Noah:
"Doctor Noah, in plays, noble and radiant characters often end happily, but reality is usually the opposite."
"This confuses me a lot."
"Should a person be upright like in plays, or multifaceted like in reality? What way is correct?"
Quite the philosophical question.
Noah chuckled lightly, pinching the blueberry little cake's cheek:
"Kid, don't overthink."
"We never truly know what 'correct' means—or rather, the concept of 'correct' constantly changes."
"Just be yourself, act without guilt in your heart—that's enough."
===
Order of the Deep.
"Phoebe, Gale, Donoz... Vadonna, young acolytes, I give each of you one flower seed."
Fenrico distributed pots and seeds, his face as calm as ever:
"I don't know what variety each of you received—everyone's seed might bloom different flowers."
"During this time, I want each of you to carry your seed. After Carnevale, I'll check everyone's results."
"The best result earns qualification for a higher position. Life has many choices, but few affect a lifetime—treat this seriously."
In the room, the young acolytes straightened, responding in unison:
"Yes, Your Excellency the Bishop!"
"Dismissed."
The acolytes left with varied thoughts.
Some planned to transplant a thriving flower into their pot; some guessed the seeds were roasted fakes; some intended to sabotage others' seeds...
Fenrico quietly awaited the final results.
He truly didn't know the seed varieties—but no issue. He'd installed trackers and bugs inside the pot walls.
Each "seed" appeared fine externally, but their true inner state—he'd monitor constantly and gradually learn.
Only the highest quality "seed" qualified to be cultivated as the next Bishop.
Shaking his head slightly, Fenrico looked down at the handwritten intelligence on his desk:
"That Righteous One went to the Montelli Family, then the Fagaceae Peninsula, quelled the storm and the Order-controlled Sighing Ancient Dragon, and finally entered Fool's Elysium."
"Killing the Black Tide-corrupted Sighing Ancient Dragon—he proved his strength again. Aligning with Montelli Family and Troupe of Fools likely means interest in the Laureate."
Strange—since the Sentinel is dead, why seek the Laureate?
For fame? Profit? Or something else?
Fenrico pondered indecisively, setting aside speculation to observe a few more days—
Day and night alternated, time flew.
First day: the Righteous One left early, introduced a kind but poor girl as helper to the Margherita Family restaurant, then farmed Tacet Discords at Penitent's End.
Second day: left the inn, headed straight to Polyphemos Windmills, muttering about chronicle quests, slaughtered a batch of Fractsidus artisans, incidentally helped an elder.
Third day: happily went to Thorncrown Rises, muttering about chronicle, perilous, daily—three wishes fulfilled at once—then casually slaughtered another crop of Fractsidus artisans.
Fourth day: returned to Penitent's End. Per acolyte reports, Tacet Discords there seemed near extinction.
...
Fenrico set down the intelligence, rubbing his brow:
"Actions utterly unpredictable, yet always benefiting someone—as if he can foresee and act at perfect timing..."
"Such a strange person—is he really of our world?"
Whatever—at least, aside from special hostility toward Fractsidus, the Righteous One harbored no ill intent.
But speaking of which—it's been so long, why no sign of those Fractsidus Overseers?
Thoughts swirling, Fenrico picked up his Terminal, dialing a call:
"Playwright, let's set a time—I'd like to invite you to the Order for a talk!"
False top-tier scheming: insidious plots. True top-tier scheming: invite for a meeting.
===
[Daily Quest: "Fierce Tacet Discords" (Challenge) completed.]
[Currently possess Radiant Tide *20, Lustrous Tide *80, Astrite *28840, Shell Credits *730w.]
[Character "Encore" ban lifted—normal use available.]
"Tasks really rake in money fast."
Noah sat on a chair in the Troupe of Fools, happily counting his backpack balance.
Hoarding Astrite is like hoarding money—the more, the more you love hoarding, unwilling to spend—eventually becoming a hoarder rat.
"Four-fate Carlotta's strength is temporarily sufficient. Hoard more Astrite now—for six-fate Cartethyia later."
Closing the panel, Noah pulled a pile of letters from his backpack, reading them one by one.
Jinhsi's letter: starting with girlish reserve and restraint, like an unbloomed bud; midway growing shy and confessional; ending full of reluctant parting and anticipation.
Yangyang's letter: full of elegant diction and refined rhetoric, overall reserved yet conveying blessings and welcome for next meeting.
Changli's letter: seems copied?
The above three were lengthy; others' letters straightforward and simple—light and quick to read. Special praise to Chixia for sending a bottle of champion hot sauce.
Awesome!
"Cough cough!"
A light cough interrupted Noah's engrossed reading. He looked up—a strand of pure white hair draped to his nose wing, carrying heart-refreshing fragrance.
"What are you reading, Tall Chestnut?"
"Ah! Potato!"
Noah called out in delight, stowing the letters:
"Long time no see—where've you been these days?"
"Thanks for your concern. Family matters delayed me, but today—with two weeks until Carnevale—it's time to prepare the program."
Carlotta brushed hair by her cheek, pulled a chair beside Noah, sharing recent anecdotes:
"By the way, did you know? The Order recently announced abolishing pilgrimage ship punishments. Fisalia also stopped Brant's wanted bounty."
"Eh? Why did Fisalia suddenly drop Brant's bounty?"
"Because Fisalia got raided again by the Troupe of Fools for a huge bounty."
Saying this, Carlotta couldn't hide her smile:
"When discovering Brant's successful jailbreak again—their responsible person~ mental breakdown~ crying and fussing~ woo woo woo~ so pitiful hahahahahaha!"