Chapter 208: The Female Saint in a Black Robe

Charlot Mecklenburg was certain now that Emperor Alfred Guillaume was far from being a “guileless youth who couldn’t keep a secret.” His first impression of the Red Dragon Emperor had been utterly wrong.

Though young, His Majesty was a deep and calculating individual, full of strategic insight. Every action he took seemed to have profound meaning, far removed from the image of a shallow man seeking amusement.

A Saint rank could completely conceal their aura from ordinary people, making it impossible for them to detect. Yet Emperor Alfred Guillaume had twice revealed his strength—once at the Bridge of Britain, when he patted Charlot on the shoulder, and again just now, when he escorted him out of the palace with an arm around his shoulders.

Such acts were undoubtedly intentional...

Seated in the carriage, Charlot glanced back at the Red Dragon Palace. A sudden chill ran down his spine, akin to the terror he had felt when facing two evil gods for the second time.

Charlot took a deep breath to calm himself, deciding not to overthink it. As the palace’s carriage brought him back to Embassy Street, he bypassed the Fars Embassy and left, switching to Dark Luxury.

Before departing, he wanted to take a look at the residence bestowed upon him by the Emperor.

The estate was located at 698 Seventais South Riverside Street!

On either side of the Seventais River ran streets that cut through the heart of Britain. The one near the Red Dragon Palace was Seventais South Riverside Street, while the one closer to the Obsidian Spring Palace was Seventais North Riverside Street. The southern side was far more bustling, featuring many renowned landmarks of the Ingrima Empire, upscale shops, restaurants, taverns, and cafés. There was even a tea house—nearly unheard of in Fars—offering a selection of teas from various nations for tasting and purchase.

The journey to 698 Seventais South Riverside Street was brief. Pulled by eight magical steeds, Dark Luxury arrived in just over ten minutes.

As Charlot dismounted and transformed Dark Luxury into a ring, he glanced at the residence. It was even stranger than he had imagined.

Strange, indeed, but not luxurious.

Situated on a solitary hill about seventy or eighty meters high, the estate could only be reached on foot, as carriages were unable to ascend. At the foot of the hill was a dedicated parking area, currently empty, which further suggested that the residence was uninhabited.

Having received the property deed and keys in advance, Charlot approached the grand gate of the estate. The imposing gate opened to reveal two paths—one descending a few steps toward the parking area, and the other ascending steeply up the hill.

Charlot wasn’t in the mood to bother with the gate. Using the Swiftstep Technique, he effortlessly leapt over it and climbed the stone steps. After seventy or eighty paces, he reached a small platform, where the path split again. One branch led to a residence at the mid-hill, labeled 699, while the other continued to the hilltop, marked 698.

Intrigued by his neighbor, Charlot guessed the mid-hill residence was likely unoccupied and decided to check it out before heading further up.

However, after climbing just twenty or thirty meters, a faint voice drifted down from above:

“This is private property. Trespassers, halt.”

Startled to find the residence occupied, Charlot quickly retrieved the property deed and apologized.

“Pardon me, I have the property deed.”

Before he could finish speaking, the deed vanished from his hand.

The shock was immense. Charlot instinctively drew his Vampiric Rapier and assumed a defensive stance.

For someone to take the document from him without leaving a trace—that person had to be terrifyingly skilled.

Moments later, a graceful figure draped in a black robe appeared mid-air and spoke:

“You’ve mistaken the address. Your destination is the hilltop—698.”

The figure casually tossed the deed back to Charlot before vanishing from sight in the blink of an eye. Charlot leapt into the air to catch the fluttering deed, sweat pouring down his back.

“A Saint rank!”

“How could there be a Saint rank here?”

Chastising himself for his recklessness, Charlot couldn’t help but wonder why such a powerful individual was his neighbor. The unkempt state of the pathway and the lack of carriages in the parking area had led him to assume the place was deserted. Evidently, he was wrong.

The black-robed female Saint seemed to live alone. There wasn’t even a servant in sight—unless, of course, she had Saint-rank servants, which seemed unlikely.

“Why is a Saint rank residing here?”

“What was Emperor Alfred Guillaume thinking, gifting me a residence next to such an enigmatic figure? Was this a trap?”

Lost in thought, Charlot changed course and climbed toward the hilltop.

At the summit, the terrain leveled out into a small square, spanning over ten acres. On one side stood a towering structure in the Sherlock architectural style. Though only five stories high, each floor was more than six meters tall, making it a high-rise by Earth standards.

Using the key, Charlot entered the estate. The first floor resembled his home on 58 Elysée Avenue, featuring three studies, two reception rooms, a main hall, and two dining rooms.

Thick layers of dust coated every surface, suggesting the place had been unoccupied for a long time.

After a quick inspection, Charlot decided not to explore further. Since he planned to return to Fars soon, he’d deal with cleaning the place another time.

Locking up behind him, Charlot descended the hill, casting one last glance at the mid-hill residence. The mysterious female Saint lingered in his thoughts.

According to Earthly customs, one ought to greet their neighbors. But Charlot dismissed the idea—it seemed far too risky. That enigmatic Saint rank clearly had a volatile temperament. If she were to kill him on a whim and toss his body into the Seventais River, even the Emperor of Fars might not seek justice.

Taking a deep breath, Charlot summoned Dark Luxury and returned to the Fars Embassy.

Charlot didn’t have much time left in Britain. In the following days, he bought a few gifts to take back to Strasbourg, bid farewell to Julian Arsilo, and made final preparations for his departure.

Julian was indifferent about his departure, merely wishing him a safe journey. Charlot knew that if he returned to the battlefield, they would likely meet again—not as friends, but as enemies.

Such matters, dictated by national conflicts, left little to be said. Charlot could only bid Julian a polite farewell. This time, he would not include Julian in the envoy delegation.

Finally, Charlot received word that the warship Titanic Whale was ready to set sail for Fars. Gathering his belongings, along with Dolores, Anastasia, Belisa, and his eighteen Redback Bear warriors, he headed for the port.

To his surprise, he encountered an unexpected acquaintance there.

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