I loaded the Mysticism panel.

Chapter 145 The Lamb and the Cross

When the family arrived at the train station, there were already several people standing on the platform.

There are still forty-five minutes left.

Richard took the train ticket out of his pocket and checked it. The train was heading north at 8:00 AM sharp, and he would have to transfer once along the way.

His mother held his hand tightly.

She was even holding him too tightly; Richard could feel his mother's entire palm exerting force.

But she didn't say anything.

"Did you bring enough?" the father asked.

"That's enough, Dad."

"Don't read on the train, it will damage your eyes."

"it is good."

"Don't stay up late when you get there."

"it is good."

The father stepped aside to help Richard confirm the station number.

The mother finally spoke: "Be careful on the road."

"Um."

"Call us when you get there."

"it is good."

The mother slowly released her grip.

Her gaze shifted from Richard's face to the far end of the station.

Evelyn suddenly chimed in from the side, "Brother, don't forget what I told you."

"What is it?"

"Bring me a present!"

I will try my best.

"Not just as much as possible, it's a must!"

"Okay, absolutely."

The sound of a train whistle came from afar.

The front of the train emerged from the tunnel, the body gradually slowed down, and finally came to a steady stop next to the station.

The carriage door opened, and several staff members got off the train and began organizing the luggage compartments.

Richard handed his suitcase to the porter and then got into the car with his backpack.

The seats in the second-class carriages are upholstered, which is much more comfortable than the hard wooden boards in the third-class carriages.

He chose a seat by the window and placed his backpack on his lap.

Outside the window, his father waved to him.

The mother stood in the mist.

Evelyn stood beside her mother, wearing the new dress and the coat Richard had bought over it.

"beep!"

The whistle sounded a second time.

The car body began to vibrate, and it slowly started moving.

He pressed his face close to the car window.

The little girl ran a few steps along the station following the car.

Unfortunately, the shoes and clothes she wore today were not suitable for running.

The train quickly overtook her, and Evelyn stopped at the station, stamping her foot in frustration.

The car drove out of the station and into the tunnel.

Richard took the tin box his sister had given him out of his bag.

He opened the lid, picked out the puppy-shaped gingerbread, and took a bite.

The gingerbread had some moisture on the surface, and inside it was full of ginger powder flavor, mixed with the aroma of molasses and butter.

………………

The train traveled north, with rows of factory chimneys and textile workshops visible outside the window.

Richard leaned against the window for a while, then took out his notebook and began to review the materials Mr. Hutton had given him.

We set off at eight o'clock and arrived at the transfer station at ten o'clock.

Because the place he was going to was too remote, he waited here for a transfer, and waited for a full three hours.

After the branch line train started moving, the scenery outside the window changed noticeably.

The industrial zone was left behind.

Outside the window stretched an endless gray-brown wasteland, dotted with a few abandoned stone house ruins, and the distant mountain ridges were covered with a thin layer of snow.

In the wilderness at the end of December, the vegetation had shrunk to a gray mass.

Occasionally, you can see one or two wild rabbits darting through the grass, startled by the sound of the train and scurrying into the crevices of the rocks.

Richard took out the sandwich his mother had prepared from his backpack and ate it slowly.

At 2:40, the train stopped at a very small station.

"Whitcomm Station, we've arrived."

The broadcast came from the direction of the front of the car.

Richard checked his ticket, picked up his suitcase, and got off the train.

The station was completely empty.

This place, called Whitcomb, has only two benches at the station.

It's a tiny ticket booth, so small that you can't even see the staff behind it.

The wind blew down from the highlands, carrying the smells of peat, lime, and sheep dung.

Richard walked out of the station exit carrying his suitcase.

Mr. Hutton was standing on the other side of the exit.

The old man was wearing a heavy coat, and his white hair was somewhat disheveled by the wind.

It seems he has been waiting for a long time.

"Was the journey smooth?"

"smoothly."

"Everyone else has arrived."

Mr. Hutton didn't exchange many pleasantries.

"Let's go straight to the hostel."

A horse-drawn carriage was parked outside the station exit, and the driver was a silent old man.

There was no heating in the carriage, of course; it was freezing cold.

Richard shrank his neck.

Outside the car window, it was still an endless expanse of gray-brown wasteland.

He watched for a while, then started making conversation:

"Sir, how long has this area been inhabited?"

"More than six thousand years ago."

Mr. Hutton said, "It's much older than the history of ancient Rome."

"That long?"

"Archaeological remains of the earliest settlers have been discovered here."

The old man's gaze fell out the window.

"The ethnicity of the people at that time is no longer verifiable, but the stone tools and early tombs they left behind can be traced back to the Neolithic Age."

Later came the ancient Celts of the Bronze Age, then the Romans, Saxons, Normans… wave after wave of peoples lived and died on this land.

"The older the land, the more likely it is to have problems."

Mr. Hutton stroked his beard.

"Every wave of civilization leaves its mark."

Religion, inscriptions, tombs, seals... Over thousands of years, traces from different eras have accumulated, occasionally producing strange reactions.

"Whitcomm is that kind of place."

He looked at his students.

"Now you should understand why I said this mission is not simple."

Richard turned his gaze back to the carriage.

"Have you worked with the other senior colleagues before?"

"I've done several missions with Mrs. McNeil."

The team leader this time was Mrs. McNeil. When Richard first heard the news from the old gentleman, he wondered if it was too much of a coincidence.

But then I thought about it again, and there are only so many skilled mediums in the northern region.

It's not surprising that Mrs. McNeil, whose expertise is relevant, is the team leader.

Mr. Hutton continued:

"There is a Ms. Sarah, and this is our first time working together."

She is an independent hunter and a seasoned professional in this area, specializing in regular patrols of the wilderness.

She doesn't usually participate in official missions, but Mrs. McNeil recommended her to us.

Why?

"Her shotgun can hit some of the more troublesome things."

Mr. Hutton did not intend to elaborate.

"You'll see for yourself when the time comes."

"And how many new hires are there?"

"Plus, you're a secretive figure, making it three academic directions."

Richard nodded.

Allowing newcomers in the same field to participate in tasks together allows them to observe and learn from each other.

"There's no need to be overly modest once you arrive."

Mr. Hutton reminded me.

"Although you are the youngest, in our line of work we not only hate those who pretend to know what they don't, but also those who pretend not to know what they do."

"it is good."

Whitcomb is situated in a low-lying area.

The carriage wound its way down the high, desolate slope, and Richard could see the entire village through the window.

There are about forty households, all of which are built with local limestone and have roofs covered with dark slate.

A church stands in the center of the village. The bell tower is not tall, but the cross at the top is particularly eye-catching.

There is a guesthouse at the entrance to the village, and further in there are a general store and several small workshops.

"arrive."

Mr. Hutton gestured with his chin toward the hostel.

"That one."

The hostel is called "Lamb and Cross".

The sign depicts a kneeling lamb with a cross under its neck.

The carriage stopped in front of the inn.

The driver jumped off the cart and helped the two carry their suitcases to the steps at the inn's entrance.

Mr. Hutton paid the fare, and the driver drove back the way he came.

Richard, carrying his suitcase, followed Mr. Hutton into the hostel.

The fireplace inside was burning brightly, with flames dancing on the firewood.

Behind the bar, various bottles of liquor were hanging, and a middle-aged man who looked like the owner was wiping the glasses with a rag.

The moment Richard stepped inside, he felt several gazes fall upon him simultaneously.

The people sitting in the hostel all turned to look at him.

Mrs. McNeil was the first to stand up.

She was a little younger than Richard had imagined.

She looked to be under forty years old, with a slender figure, wearing a dark wool skirt and a gray hooded coat.

"Little Richard."

Mrs. McNeil stepped forward and extended her hand.

"I told Bigelow I wouldn't see you until spring, I didn't expect to see you so soon."

Her handshake was very firm.

Richard could feel the etheric flow emanating from the other's palm.

The Sun Constellation trembled slightly, but no discomfort was felt.

"I've heard a lot about you from old Biggs, Mrs. McNeill."

Mrs. McNeil sighed, "That big mouth of a Biggle."

"When he talks about his sect with others, he always starts with 'My really, really amazing teacher,' and the second sentence is always 'My really amazing senior sister.'"

"Actually, he has a lot of respect for his sect," Richard said, trying to say something nice.

"Respect is respect, and boasting is boasting; the two can be done separately," Mrs. McNeil said noncommittally.

Next up are two hunters.

Captain Field was in his thirties, and although he was also thin, he had a large frame.

There is a shallow scar on my left eyebrow, which extends from above my eyebrow to my cheekbone.

"Hello, Captain Field."

The man didn't get up; he simply nodded.

There was a woman sitting in the high-backed chair in the corner.

She was wearing a hunting coat, riding breeches, and leather boots.

A double-barreled shotgun was leaning against him; Richard could tell at a glance that it was a modified weapon.

"Never mind those two, have a seat."

Mrs. McNeil pointed to the chair next to the fireplace.

"Hasn't the others arrived yet?"

Richard sat down and placed his suitcase at his feet.

"They've all arrived today."

Mrs. McNeil said.

"They're all upstairs in their rooms organizing their things; you'll see them around dinnertime."

She turned her head and shouted towards the bar:

"Boss, please get this young gentleman a room."

The boss behind the bar looked up and took a brass key from a hook on the wall.

"Room 4, second floor, east side."

The boss handed over the keys: "The window faces east, making it the most convenient place to watch the sunrise."

Mr. Hutton rubbed his hands together beside him.

"All eight rooms were booked, plus the two rooms used by the owner's family, so we booked the entire hostel."

Richard put the key in his pocket.

"I'll take my luggage upstairs first."