The Laws of Werewolf Hunting

Chapter 590 The Nostalgic One

The White Curtain Cathedral in Sasha is a magnificent building that the city is proud of. For a period of time after the return of the Dark Moon, the sight of a large number of birds circling above the cathedral was regarded as a miracle by believers.

Now Caroline Cures also has a miracle.

Birds of different colors and species, including white, gray, brown, yellow, and black, gathered in flocks and soared directly above Sir Courles. Among them were even birds that were predators and prey to each other, yet they were all at peace.

Their wings almost touched each other, together blocking the sun, and the shadows they cast stretched out, enveloping Cures and his entourage.

Countless bird droppings rained down on them like a torrential downpour, leaving sticky, dirty streaks on their clothes. The extra spots on their uniform black clothes made the fabric look like rotten tree bark soaked in water, and they themselves like plump white maggots poking their heads out of rotting wood.

Nobles and commoners, masters and servants—these labels meant nothing at this moment. They rode their horses and fled frantically, like a group of defeated cavalrymen desperately searching for a way to survive in the bombing zone of military airships, while flocks of birds circled overhead.

The witch who caused all this was not very happy either; she had something on her mind.

"It's really hard to be a good person," she said to her friends with concern.

The tears had been wiped away, but Julius's accusations still lingered in her heart. She was sad not because of his harsh words, but because the mistakes he pointed out were indeed true.

She was greedy and disregarded morality.

“It’s hard to be a good person. Ordinary people just need to live, but to be a good person you have to do good deeds,” Alice said. They were not in a quiet environment; the people around them were talking and making noise, so they had to raise their voices to avoid their words being drowned out by the vast sound.

“But it’s worth it to be a good person,” Lant said. “It’s good for our souls.”

"It can also save other people's souls," Donna sighed.

"What are you doing? Today is a holiday, we should be happy!" Alice couldn't stand their seriousness, so she stood in the middle, linking arms with one of her friends and walking forward.

Among the crowd surging toward the racetrack, the girls going against the flow of traffic stood out. Donna's horse, Cherry, followed leisurely beside them, its saddlebags containing the food and tools they needed for their spring outing.

"By the way, Donna, what did you and Uncle Bellow do at my house yesterday? Mom seemed very unhappy and locked me in my room for three whole hours. I asked her what happened, but she wouldn't tell me. Dad was the same way, but he said he invited you over himself and said you did a good job."

Donna answered truthfully: "We beheaded a notorious bandit named Charlie right here on your lawn. Don't worry, it's legal."

“No wonder that patch of grass was cleared away,” Alice exclaimed. “I saw Mom turn pale and almost faint when she went out to face it this morning. I thought she was sad because she lost it.”

Lant's cold hands were sweating slightly as he tried to keep pace with his two friends: "Um... I think criminals should be dealt with by law enforcement. It's not appropriate for ordinary people to personally cut off someone's head."

"This is not an ordinary citizen incident; it's a serious diplomatic event," Alice said. The fact that the king of this country came to Dorne to enforce the law across borders may sound unreasonable, but offending a king deserves this kind of consequence.

Miss Lant was quite confused about what was going on, but she figured that if she pressed for an answer, the answer would probably still leave her bewildered, so she wisely kept quiet.

“If you’re capable of doing it yourself, it’s best not to bother others,” Donna said. “Unfortunately, I made a mistake in this matter and almost let this robber go. He was quite interesting to talk to, and it was easy to develop an inappropriate liking for him. He also offered me tempting benefits, and I was completely bewitched at the time. Luckily, Kerry didn’t hesitate.”

“It’s good to have compassion. A person who loses compassion is no different from a beast,” Lant comforted her. For some reason, her expression was also somewhat melancholy, making Alice seem like an oddity between her and Donna. “Donna, you pity him because you are kind-hearted. He pretends to be pitiable because he is bad. It’s not your fault.”

“But I want to be a good person, and I can’t limit myself to this level.” Donna sighed again: “It’s really hard to be a good person.”

They spent some time choosing an unoccupied high ground as their picnic spot. They spread out a tablecloth, Alice took care of taking out the food and arranging it, Donna fed the horses down the slope, and Lant brought her sketchbook this time to record this wonderful moment.

The stand unfolds from its folded state, its four legs inserting into the soil. The delicate paper is slowly smoothed out on the canvas by Lant, and then clamped in place.

Her usual method is to first determine the most difficult environment and terrain to remember, then mark the positions of the characters, quickly jot down the characteristics of the characters with a pencil, and then fill in the details from memory before coloring the whole thing.

The hillside wasn't high, but it greatly broadened her view, including the racetrack embedded in the woodland.

The whistle signaling the start of the race had already sounded on their way. Lant could see the riders' small, tin-soldier-like figures darting swiftly through the greenery of spring, sometimes appearing and sometimes disappearing, both riders and horses brimming with extraordinary vitality.

As for the spectators waving flags and shouting along the track, she couldn't see their faces, but she knew deeply that her father was standing among them. The thought of the misfortune caused by his simple and honest personality made Lant's heart clench.

Mr. Bello and Mr. Melcher were both kind but firm men who knew when to refuse, unlike her father.

"They will come again."

Lant couldn't help but express his concerns.

"Lant?"

A hand suddenly landed on her shoulder, causing her to tremble involuntarily.

"Who?" It was Donna who had returned. She curiously looked in the direction Lant was pointing, but saw nothing. The witch's black hair was naturally curly, but her personality was straightforward. Her yellow eyes never concealed her emotions, always displaying cunning and confidence, making people unable to help but trust her.

Lant's body trembled slightly:
"People of the Earth Mother Cult."

Donna turned her head, her concerned gaze falling on her friend's face, waiting for her to continue.

“They got another sum of money from Dad.” Lant paused for a moment. “They convinced him it was a worthwhile investment, the reward being the so-called Oracle Cave’s prophecy about the horse race results.”

How much did he bet on horse racing?

"All."

Lant's gaze flickered to Alice, who was searching for jam in her saddlebag, before snapping back as if electrocuted.

"Donna, I might not be able to come next semester." After revealing the truth she had been keeping hidden, she could no longer maintain her composure, and her voice broke into a rare sob.

Regret also swept over Lant's heart at that moment.

Why did she have to say that? Now she's ruining everyone's mood for the spring outing.

No, you won't.

Donna reached out with concern and pulled Lant into her arms, gently patting her back.

"Have you forgotten? I am a witch. I can foresee that you will not drop out of school, but will graduate normally, and that you will have a happy and fulfilling life afterward. Don't worry about the Earth Mother Cult; they will be dealt with." The witch spoke with such certainty that one could believe she truly had the ability to see the future.

"Thank you," Lant said softly.

"What happened?" Alice walked over curiously, holding two jars of jam of different flavors.

Lant quickly broke free from Donna's embrace, feeling embarrassed to be seen like this.

"fine."

“She cried,” Donna said honestly. “I cried this morning too.”

Alice didn't ask why, but looked at them with some difficulty: "So, it's my turn tonight."

“That’s right, you can’t cry less than us.” Donna took out her favorite raspberry jam from her hand, shook it, and walked to the picnic table to sit down first, with the others following closely behind.

The picnic went as well as expected.

They don't go out often, and even if they're not interested in horse racing, such a grand event is a rare sight.

However, Donna was indeed somewhat influenced by Lant.

Amidst the laughter, she secretly pondered how to resolve the issue of the Earth Mother Cult. This was not Lant's fault, because even without these problems, Donna would still be distracted—by Clara.

Donna gave Clara three days off, letting her go wherever she liked, as long as she didn't cause trouble.

Where does Clara want to go when she's alone?

Instead of going to those popular, bustling places, she returned to the abandoned Grail War base known as "Notre Dame".

The white house, exuding an old and worn atmosphere, was just as it had been the last time I visited. Broken flowerpots still lay on the windowsill, the mottled walls were covered in bird droppings, and the nearby garbage dump reeked of stench. Overall, it resembled a corpse abandoned in the wilderness.

When Clara returned last year, she found it far removed from the beauty she remembered and developed a dislike for it. However, when Donna told her that she could move around freely for three days, she couldn't resist wanting to return.

I'll just stay here for a while and do nothing.

Clara is now educated, and she knows that this feeling is called nostalgia—she's reached an age where she can reminisce.

She wasn't the only one who would miss this place.

Father Petty, dressed in his solemn black robes, sat on the stairs, holding a string of rose beads in his hand, looking down at the little devils who walked like birds. His young face, which did not match his real age, was filled with pure joy.

"Clara, how are you doing in your new home?"

Sorry for the lateness, I've been working on my thesis lately and haven't had much energy. I even rewrote this chapter twice.