Dorothy’s Forbidden Grimoire Novel - Chapter 406

**Chapter 406: Stay**
**Northern Coast of the Conqueror Sea, Nawah**

As the sun slipped beneath the horizon, dusk enveloped Nawah, casting the town in twilight. What was typically a quiet and uneventful day along this remote coastline had turned surprisingly eventful with the sudden arrival of a Church escort fleet.

Although Nawah wasn’t completely off the maritime grid, its inconvenient position and lackluster infrastructure made it less favorable compared to the many bustling port cities lining Castiglia’s southern coastline. As a result, it rarely saw significant traffic from beyond.

The harbor now teemed with warships, their decks bustling as passengers disembarked in waves, transforming the sleepy village into a hub of activity. Local vendors hurried to welcome the newcomers, while townspeople gathered in the streets and at dining tables to exchange theories about the unusual visit. Talk centered on the fleet’s unexpected appearance, its sheer size, and the surge of strangers it brought ashore.

Later that night, on one of the cruisers docked at the pier, Commander Jord sat behind his desk in full uniform. A slightly overweight man in a suit stood before him, trying his best to speak formal Ivigian, though his accent remained thick.

“Esteemed Sir Knight,” the man began respectfully, “the supplies you requested have been arranged. Delivery is set for tomorrow afternoon. I’ve also sent staff to secure shelter for passengers without lodging. No one will be left outside tonight.”

“You’ve done well, Mayor Your Honor,” Jord replied in a curt tone. “Securing provisions wasn’t your duty. Our sudden appearance must’ve thrown your town into disarray.”

The man, indeed Nawah’s mayor, had come immediately upon receiving word that a Church fleet had crowded into the harbor. He brought along a group of local officials, all eager to lend assistance—and perhaps gather information.

“Not a problem at all! It is a privilege to serve in any way I can, especially in support of your divine mission to spread the Holy Mother’s will. It’s truly an honor, not a burden.”

Jord allowed himself a small, amused exhale. “Ah, I see. So Mayor Your Honor is a man of faith. That’s uncommon. I’ll remember how helpful you’ve been today. You’ve had a long day—perhaps you should rest now.”

“Of course, of course… But before I go, may I ask—do you have any idea how long the fleet plans to remain docked?” the mayor inquired carefully.

Jord regarded him briefly, then replied, “You seem a bit uneasy about our presence. There’s really no need. I’ve reported our situation. Holy Mountain has informed the Castiglian authorities of our temporary mooring. Any compensation for damages or disruptions will be handled by our representatives. No need to trouble yourself over it.”

Assuming the mayor’s concern was simply the overwhelming presence of armed vessels in his harbor, Jord offered reassurance. But the mayor quickly clarified.

“No, no, Sir Knight, I have no complaints. I just wanted to know your timeline so we can plan for any civic scheduling conflicts.”

“I understand. We had intended only a quick stop—drop off passengers, restock supplies, and move on. But a few unexpected issues arose. We might be delayed a day or two. No more than that,” Jord explained.

The mayor leaned forward slightly. “Issues? If I may ask… This afternoon, I heard some commotion near the docks. When I arrived, the area looked damaged. Was there… some kind of incident?”

“That’s not a matter requiring your attention,” Jord responded with a calm but unmistakable edge. “Just know we won’t be staying more than a couple of days.”

The mayor shrank back slightly. “Yes, of course… Understood. I won’t press further. I’ll take my leave.”

With a final bow, he exited the room. Jord watched him go, then turned his focus back to the reports on his desk. Not long after, a knock interrupted his reading.

“Enter,” he called.

His adjutant stepped inside, offering a quick salute before delivering his update. “Sir, we’ve completed a full sweep of the coastal perimeter around Nawah. No irregular activity detected. Regrettably, the fugitive cultist remains at large.”

“No trace?” Jord mused. “Disappointing, but not surprising. Those who follow the Way of the Tide become near impossible to retrieve once they’ve entered the sea. I had hoped his injuries would hinder him, making escape difficult. Seems I misjudged his condition.

“Still, you needn’t be hard on yourself. Pursuit wasn’t our primary duty—it was supplementary.”

The adjutant inclined his head in appreciation. “Thank you, Sir… The attack caught everyone completely off guard. No one could’ve guessed those two were Abyssal Serpent cultists. That’s how one was killed and the other got away. If we’d known sooner, we could’ve contained the situation.”

Jord exhaled slowly and set down his pen.

“Yes… From all appearances, they seemed like any other ordinary travelers. No prior signs of spiritual resonance. The chaos this afternoon blindsided everyone—including the perpetrators. The timing of their exposure, just as passengers were disembarking, seems far too convenient.

“I’m starting to think the fugitive didn’t simply vanish. It’s possible… someone eliminated him.”

The adjutant’s eyes narrowed, catching the implication in Jord’s voice. “You believe, Sir… their identities were revealed on purpose? And the one who fled may already be dead?”

“Consider it—how likely is it that two covert cultists would suddenly and accidentally botch their concealment? Their control over Shadow energy didn’t simply slip. Someone engineered their downfall. Someone else, also part of the Hidden Religion, but working against the Abyssians. Most likely, they were aboard the *Glittering White Pearl*. Perhaps even linked to this mysterious ‘Thief K.’

“We were pawns in their scheme.”

Jord’s tone grew colder. With the unmasking of Costas and Massimo, it was now evident that the *Glittering White Pearl* had been a hotbed of religious intrigue. Competing factions had likely clashed in secret, with the ship’s theft and eventual destruction tied directly to those hidden conflicts. Jord chided himself for not realizing it sooner.

“You think there may still be rogue cult members among the Pearl’s survivors?” the adjutant asked, clearly uneasy. “Should we begin a search immediately?”

“It’s already too late. The passengers have scattered across Nawah. Many probably slipped away during the night. We don’t have the manpower to hunt them all down. And besides, it’s not our role to investigate.”

Jord stood and approached the window, peering out at the harbor’s dim lights.

“I’ve informed Central Command. A specialized team from Tivouan is on its way. Once they arrive, we’ll hand off all information and move on. Our purpose is to escort, not to investigate.

“Still, until they get here, we’re responsible for preserving the evidence that exists. And during this lull… we can afford to rest.”

Though Jord had no intention of diving deeper into the matter, he saw no harm in letting his men enjoy some downtime. A ‘White Ash’-level cultist case provided enough justification. Naval life was grueling, long stretches of tedium broken by brief storms of chaos. Few aboard would refuse a rare chance at solid ground. For many officers, stretching protocol for a bit of rest had become second nature.

Sensing his commander’s intent, the adjutant rubbed his jaw and allowed himself a sly grin before looking out the window as well.

“Indeed. Securing the basics for the investigators will help them later. Seems our stopover in Ivig will have to wait. Luckily, our pilgrimage schedule can handle the delay.”

……

Time slipped by. The night melted into dawn, and the town of Nawah gradually stirred under the calls of seabirds overhead.

Dorothy was up early. The screeching gulls perched on her windowsill had shattered her sleep. Rubbing her eyes in irritation, she tried to doze off again but failed. Her annoyance mounting, she reached for the Magic Box, summoned one of her raptor corpse puppets, and hurled it out the window. The creature promptly dove into the flock, scattering the birds in chaos.

Now fully awake and satisfied with her retaliation, Dorothy got out of bed.

She washed and dressed at a leisurely pace—donning modest attire: a gray-toned dress and sturdy black leather boots—then made her way to the inn’s main floor. Breakfast was brief: a couple of potato cakes devoured quickly. She then wandered into the streets of Nawah.

Her goal was simple: find a local outpost of the White Stonemason Guild to acquire some necessary tools. She dispatched various corpse puppets throughout the town to check banks and workshops for recognizable signs. Meanwhile, she and her paternal puppet casually explored the city like ordinary tourists, genuinely enjoying the unfamiliar sights.

As she walked, snacking on local treats and admiring the coastal charm, Dorothy noticed many other former passengers from the *Glittering White Pearl* doing the same. What was meant to be a layover had turned into an impromptu tourist visit. She even spotted Nevis roaming the streets with classmates and a professor. According to him, they planned to enjoy Nawah a bit before continuing on to Ivig.

“Since we’re stuck here anyway, might as well see the sights,” seemed to be the general attitude.

Dorothy shared the sentiment and continued her leisurely stroll. After more than two hours of roaming and occasional breaks, she realized she’d wandered to Nawah’s northern edge.

Standing atop a grassy hill, she looked down over the town. Nawah was even smaller than she’d imagined—tiny compared to Igwint. It felt doubtful that such a place would host a White Stonemason Guild branch.

‘Honestly, Igwint at least warranted a Security Bureau office. Nawah looks far too small for any official arcane organization,’ she thought, skeptical.

Turning back toward the center of town, she descended the hill. Her route passed by a walled complex nestled at the base of the slope. Its perimeter walls were oddly tall. As she neared the front gate, she noticed an arched iron frame bolted onto the closed iron doors. The frame was conspicuously empty, which caught her attention immediately.

‘This type of frame usually holds signage. So where’s the sign? Why leave just the frame? Did they never put it up?’ she wondered.

On silent command, a bird-shaped corpse puppet swooped down from the sky and perched delicately on the ironwork, inspecting it closely. Dorothy peered through the puppet’s eyes.

Multiple small screw holes dotted the frame—clearly intended for affixing a placard or lettering. The rest of the iron frame was coated in grime and rust. But the holes stood out: clean, barely touched by oxidation or dust.

That could only mean one thing—the screws had been in place recently, shielding the metal beneath. The sign had only been removed in the past few days, maybe hours.

‘So there was a sign… and it was taken down intentionally. But why? Replacing it? Or hiding something?’

Intrigued, she commanded the bird puppet to glide over the compound wall. It settled near one of the buildings, where faded painted letters on a pillar came into view:

**”North Ridge Mental Institution”**

Dorothy blinked, surprised.

‘Another asylum? This tiny town actually has two?’