Krafft's Notes on Anomalies

A shower washed away the weak smell of blood on the deck, and the warm land breeze carrying the fragrance of vegetation propped up the sails, carrying subtle information such as the smell of roasted wheat noodles and the noisy hawking of the market, and delivered it to the portholes.

Different from the seaside, the ports along the river do not have the salty smell that is imprinted on the sense of smell. At the same time, the river, as a source of fresh water, attracts the center of gravity of the city to move closer to the waterside. Those people have overlapping pointed arches and are lined with small spires and walls. A building with flying buttresses erected in between.

The protruding terrace is supported by a high relief, with a green curtain formed by hanging climbing plants and decorated with seasonal light-colored flowers. The long shadow of the bell tower passes through the waves of new bright leaves that reflect the golden and red light, pointing diagonally at the port area below.

Kraft leaned against the porthole window and watched for a while, then consciously stepped away, leaving the scant sunset light to Martin who was sorting out the remaining problems. He tried to pull out the short arrow, but after several attempts he found that the barb of the arrow was stuck in the bone seam. He simply broke the hollow wooden shaft and hastily stuffed the body that had been lying on the ground for a day into a bag.

"How are you going to handle this."

"Someone will arrange it in a suitable place." Martin tightened the tie rope at the mouth of the bag, tied a slip knot, and tried dragging it on the ground for a few steps to make sure that the bulges on the bag would not allow people to see at a glance what was inside. Something bad, "We need to hurry up and get to the accommodation arranged for you before the next 'accident'."

"Sounds pretty well prepared?"

"At least you won't get caught up in this little thing." He kicked the bag, as if he didn't notice the slight negative meaning in his words.

The truth may be simpler. After a few pleasantries, the bag was dumped to the port security officer without credentials or password. The Sheriff called to the guards and took the bag away without asking any questions.

The group of people transferred to the carriage and left first. Martin opened the window curtain, and Kraft saw that the captain of the ship they were on was dealing with what seemed like routine inquiries, and the impatient crew was being put into the port.

There was a good time difference. The person who completed the inquiry looked this way with a wooden board and recording paper between them. Martin closed the window curtain and nodded slightly.

Very good, this is normal performance, and Kraft feels that the knight is quite satisfied with it.

"Welcome to Westminster. Rivers University is not far away. If we are fast enough, we can arrive before the dinner." Martin exhaled a long breath and leaned on the back of the carriage chair. The wooden wheel passed by on the uneven stone pavement, and everyone in the car swayed with the vibration. The red-hot sky was cut off by the canopy of trees along the road and the roof. The light and dark alternated, and the red light filtered by the curtain brushed the face.

"Also, considering that it may cause some unnecessary misunderstandings, can you please leave those things to me for safekeeping first?"

"Is there anything on me that I shouldn't bring in?"

"Perhaps I forgot to mention that the pot of tea was found at a certain banquet." Martin stretched out his index finger and thumb, making a gesture of picking up small berries. "I promise you that I will keep them properly and keep them at home." I will hand it over to you when necessary. If you also carry any similar... medicines with you, it is best to hand them over temporarily as well."

"Okay, where's my sword?" Craft handed over the small basket of belladonna.

"You can keep it, but it's best not to let your followers bring the hammer in. Believe me, a hammer is only as eye-catching as your report." He looked at the three of them up and down, his eyes on them. He walked back and forth with his light luggage and frowned, "I want to take back what I just said."

"We might be late for the dinner."

…

…

"Maybe we can not stick to these details. After all, this is an academic dinner, isn't it?" Kraft further improved his previous guess about Martin's identity. This guy definitely serves someone with a very high status and inheritance or family.

"Oh no, you have to see how this fits you, knowing it's not even tailor-made."

In an angle recognized by a certain contemporary mainstream aesthetic, Craft was thrown into a slim-fitting dress with puffy sleeves.

The inside should be filled with some soft content like a cotton-padded jacket, and then threads are used to sew stripes on it, just like plowing ditches on the field ridges, making the flat clothes reflect a certain three-dimensional shape. There are also symmetrical line patterns on the separated small pieces.

The waist is cinched and the sleeves rise from the elbows and are closed with metallic-patterned buttons, giving this men's dress a close fit.

From the perspective of an alien soul, this is... a piece of clothing similar in structure to a down jacket, but much thinner. It also comes with a belt with many accessories. Frankly speaking, the colors and patterns are a bit on the exaggerated side.

Coop, a knight's reserve squire, took off his hammer and put on a similar but less flashy garment. On the other hand, the skirt that Yvonne wore was the most normal. It was a multi-pleat multi-colored long skirt that was divided from the waist and spread out with a ribbon-decorated hem.

The little girl was a little confused and stood in front of the bronze mirror holding the hem of her skirt, letting the maid put on a headdress that seemed so silly to Kraft.

Since she seemed to like the look, Kraft shut up to silence the sharp, even caustic criticism that was flowing through the Otherworld Soul section about the era's sartorial aesthetic.

"If possible, I brought a medical school gown, that's pretty good." For himself, he still wanted to struggle.

"But on our list is a certain first heir to the title who has medical attainments. In addition to the academic status, most of the invitees are from similar backgrounds, or both." Martin explained patiently, returning to his original appearance when they first met. That kind of maddening inexplicable attention to detail.

"It can be regarded as a social banquet. It lasts for half a month starting from the academic gathering. You have to consider representing your family."

"When I came here, I thought I only represented my own views." Kraft surrendered. If everyone is a clown, then the only one who doesn't wear a clown suit is the real clown.

Guided by Martin, who also changed his clothes, they passed the buildings composed of complex vaults, wall stacks and reliefs, as well as the maze-like miniature gardens at their feet. At the end of the corridor flanked by rows of oak trees and guard formations, cheerful lute and recorder music came from the front.

In front of an exquisite arch with a concave design, they were stopped by full-body armor guards wearing blue-dyed feathered helmets. Martin asked Kraft for the invitation and handed it to the waiter on his behalf.

The long sound of heavy metal percussion and vibration sounded high above the head, blending into the ensemble of musical instruments that changed from brisk to soothing under the clear night light.

"We're definitely late."

The atmosphere in the hall was lively, as expected when arriving. Most of the guests in flashy clothes were not around the long table filled with food, but were talking to each other. No one noticed the group of people who quietly slipped through the door.

At least that's what Kraft thought. Hungry eyes passed over the unfamiliar faces and locked on the stacked bread plates, as well as the golden-brown roast chicken, mushroom cream soup, truffle ham, mushroom beef stew, and some things he had never seen before. Dip sliced ​​white tender mushrooms into sauce.

Completely unaware that the waiter behind him was carrying the invitation and completing the process of proofreading names, taking titles, and adjusting the volume according to his identity, he cleared his throat and announced in a voice that could be heard by everyone in the room:

"Professor Craft Wood!"

The hand that had been attached to the bread plate froze.