Cyrus didn't know what was going on, but the moment he heard that voice, he could feel every muscle, every tendon, and every nerve in his body going taut all at once.
It was almost as if a beast—much more terrifying than the giant yellow bird from the Amethyst Forest, and much stronger than the guards of the Red Arena—had suddenly turned its sights on him.
And indeed, when he looked up, he realized that Sylvie was no different.
The red-haired girl just stood there like a statue, her bright emerald eyes quivering in dread. Cyrus could even see her hands trembling as she stared at the person behind him.
Gritting his teeth, Cyrus had to muster every ounce of strength and will his body still had just to turn around. And when he did, he found himself face to face with the pristine white-robed old man.
The old man just stood there, looking at them with an expression that could only be described as gentle, yet also... excited?
Even then, Cyrus had to fight the raw instinct screaming at him to run. To get as far away from this person as possible.
Thankfully, as if realizing his mistake, the old man's smile quickly shifted into something that seemed almost apologetic. He raised both arms slightly to show he meant no harm and slowly took a deep breath, before he finally spoke
"Ah, I apologize. It seems like I was too excited. I have no ill intentions, though, you can rest assured."
Then his gaze moved past Cyrus, as if he didn't even exist, and firmly settled on Sylvie.
"Young lady, mind if I ask you a few questions?" Cyrus could tell that the man had tried to make his voice sound as gentle as possible, his expectant gaze fully focused on the red-haired girl.
Still, Sylvie didn't answer. She just looked up at him, her bright emerald eyes filled with wariness and confusion. Cyrus could even see her gaze shifting on him for a moment, as if she wanted to ask for help.
Well, no wonder, really. Up close, the white-robed elder looked even stranger than he'd originally thought. Cyrus didn't know much about clothes, but even someone like him could tell that there was something about those spotless white robes and the fine embroidery on their hems that set this person apart from any merchant or traveler.
At the very least, this wasn't something a frequent patron of an isolated street stall would wear.
But still, the old man's clothes were just that—clothes. Cyrus knew they weren't the reason he'd frozen the moment he heard the man's voice.
No, it was this person's aura, the very presence he exuded that was clearly unique. It was unlike anything Cyrus had ever felt before.
And yet, before Sylvie even had a chance to respond to his question, the old man had already stepped forward and taken a seat at their table. He settled himself right across Sylvie, folding his hands neatly in front of him, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Then, he smiled lightly and continued
"Pardon my intrusion. I only have a few questions, so please forgive me for imposing like this."
Cyrus looked around him, but it seemed that neither the old woman who owned the stall nor the two middle-aged women were paying any more attention to their table. No. It was more like they didn't dare to. The moment the white-robed elder approached them, the entire atmosphere of the shop seemed to have changed.
But he didn't seem to care about any of that. He just looked at Sylvie with those calm, pale eyes and continued calmly
"I see that my presence isn't welcome. Let me get straight to the point, then. Young lady, are you perhaps a child of Vormund?"
Sylvie's reaction was immediate. Her eyes widened in fear, and she lurched up from her chair so quickly that it caused it to scrape against the stone pavement of the street. The red-haired girl took an uneasy step back and then another, with her hand pressed flat against her chest as she stared at the man in disbelief.
"A child of Vormund?" Cyrus had no idea what that phrase even meant, but judging from Sylvie's reaction, she at least seemed to know what it was.
For a heartbeat, no one moved.
Then the old man's eyes lit up with clear delight, before he let out a loud, triumphant laugh.
"Ah, so I was right! How fortunate! This is indeed a blessing."
Seeing how Sylvie was taking another step back, as if to open up the distance between them, the old man laughed and shook his head. Then, he raised his right hand and pointed at his robes, right at the symbol of a coiling snake that his silver stripes seemed to form, and continued, this time in an almost soothing tone
"I know what you are worried about, child, but there's no need. Formally, the Kingdom of Astrea only worships the God of the Skies and the Goddess of Wisdom, yes, so it's only natural you would react with some caution. However, our Lord's blessing isn't something you should ignore."
What followed next left both Cyrus and the red-haired girl completely stunned.
With a single step, the white-robed old man had already closed the distance between them and appeared in front of Sylvie, grabbing her shoulders with both hands. He'd moved so fast that Cyrus could only see a white blur before everything was over.
Then, he lifted her up and said seriously, in a voice that reverberated throughout the empty street
"I'll take you to the temple."