Dorothy’s Forbidden Grimoire Novel - Chapter 461
Chapter 461**North Shore of the Conqueror Sea, Adriana**
In a lavish hotel suite near Church Square, Dorothy sat still on a plush sofa, the atmosphere heavy around her. Balanced on her knees was the “Sea of Texts Navigation,” and her eyes were locked on the hastily scrawled message from Nevis. Her gaze sharpened, a faint crease forming on her brow.
> “Nuno—Davis’s longtime servant and loyal butler of the Boyle household—vanished last night. The Boyle residence itself was thoroughly turned over. What occurred there? Was it the work of raiders? Or is something far deeper at play?
> “Nuno, above all others, held Davis Boyle’s confidence. He had served the family for decades. When Davis chose to keep his heirs removed from the shadowy world, he passed guardianship of his arcane inheritance to Nuno. The old man may only be apprentice-level, but his disappearance almost certainly ties back to extraordinary affairs.
> “Nuno possesses the last of Davis’s writings—and more crucially, he knows where the golden scepter is hidden. That relic is vital to the protection of the Boyle family. His loss isn’t trivial, and this must be handled with utmost urgency.”
Dorothy read through the words once more, then gently set the book aside and reached for her pen. With swift, precise strokes, she responded:
> “Understood. Your message is clear. This is no minor issue. I will alert our contacts in Tivian to begin immediate inquiry. Stay calm and do not worry unnecessarily.”
Moments later, Nevis saw Dorothy’s handwriting appear on her own copy of the “Sea of Texts Navigation.” Her shoulders slumped slightly in relief. Sitting on the edge of her bed, tension still tight in her chest, she watched the ink settle.
> “So Lady Dorothy’s mobilizing the Rose Cross members in Tivian… They’ll help find Grandfather Nuno?” The thought gave her hope. With the Rose Cross involved, there would be results—there had to be.
She reflected on Dorothy’s message. As a recent initiate into the secretive and formidable society, Nevis trusted their abilities far beyond that of the city’s police. Knowing they were now involved let her breathe a bit easier, even if only slightly.
Nuno had always been there—he wasn’t just a servant. He’d been a guardian, a figure of warmth and protection since her childhood. His sudden disappearance had shaken her deeply. But now, with the strength of the Rose Cross behind the search, her dread was at least bearable.
> “Thank you, Lady Dorothy. I’m currently in Ivig and can’t assist in Pritter. I’ll be relying on you.”
She wrote this reply, and shortly after, Dorothy’s response flowed back onto the page:
> “Don’t trouble yourself. We’ll handle Tivian. I’m making the calls now. I’ll keep you informed of any findings. Keep this book with you.”
Reading those words, Nevis carefully tucked her copy away. She made an effort to take Dorothy’s advice and compose herself, but it was hard. She glanced across the room at her still-sleeping roommate—mouth slightly open, a small puddle of drool forming on her pillow, completely oblivious to the hidden conflicts unraveling behind the world’s curtain.
> “Maybe ignorance really is a kind of protection,” she thought with a weary sigh. “I think I’m starting to understand why Grandfather tried to keep us clear of it all.
> “But for us… for the Boyles… maybe that kind of peace was never an option.
> “Not with that blood-bound curse still pulsing in our veins…”
—
Back in her suite, Dorothy finished her exchange with Nevis and closed the page. With practiced fingers, she flipped to another contact within her “Sea of Texts Navigation”—this one bearing Grey’s name. She hesitated, chewing lightly on her pen cap in thought, before putting the tip to paper:
> “This is the Detective. Mr. Meisshaw, we’re requesting your support for an urgent matter. Are you currently available?”
As soon as the message was complete, she closed her eyes and offered a silent invocation, aligning her mental focus with Grey’s attuned page.
She quickly double-checked her internal schedule. It was the weekend. The chaos following the attempt on the Duke of Tivian’s life had finally ebbed. That meant Grey should be unoccupied—for now.
> “If he’s free… he’ll assist.”
—
**Prith Island, Tivian**
Mid-morning sun bathed the lively streets of North Tivian. People bustled to and fro, and the anxious edge that once gripped the city in early spring had all but lifted. The Duke’s assassination plot was yesterday’s news, and now, police patrols were sporadic at best. Daily life had resumed its usual rhythm.
Inside a small tackle shop near the riverfront, Grey stood surrounded by neat rows of fishing gear. Dressed casually, he thumbed through a fishing magazine while occasionally glancing over the racks of rods and lures. The shop owner, ever eager, threw out enthusiastic suggestions, and Grey nodded along as if absorbing each one.
Since the citywide dragnet had concluded, and the Eight-Pointed Nest retreated into silence, the power of Tivian’s hidden factions had either been crushed or muted. Those that remained did so with fearful caution. Extraordinary occurrences had become rare, and the Bureau of Secrecy’s usual flood of work had shrunk to a trickle. For the first time in months, Grey found himself enjoying something like time off.
With no immediate crises, his thoughts had turned to simpler pleasures. His upbringing in the remote provinces hadn’t been all combat and chase—there were memories of fishing too. The satisfaction of catching a fish, roasting it over a fire by the stream, sharing the bounty with others… Those memories stood out in his otherwise hard youth.
So, fishing it would be. Not wading into rivers anymore—he was too old for that. But buying proper gear? That seemed right. Despite the pollution plaguing most of Tivian’s waterways, the northern edge of Crown University offered several surprisingly clean spots. Grey had already picked out the locations. With anticipation building, he’d come here, wallet in hand.
He was no expert, of course. The magazine in hand helped, but he mostly relied on the shopkeeper’s input. He nodded at every suggestion, unfamiliar terms flying over his head. Eventually, after purchasing the “beginner’s set,” he stepped up to the register to finalize the sale. But something shifted in that moment—his body stiffened, face hardening into professional stillness.
The shopkeeper noticed the change instantly. His cheerful chatter died in his throat. Had the customer caught onto a pricing trick?
> “Uh… sir? If the cost seems off, I assure you, we never compromise on—”
Grey cut in, his voice cool and measured.
> “I’ve paid already. I’ll step out for a moment. If I don’t come back soon, assume I’ll return later to retrieve it. Please store it safely until then.”
He laid the money flat on the counter, then turned and exited without another word. The merchant stood frozen, unable to even call after him.
Once outside, Grey moved swiftly through the crowd. At the mouth of a narrow alley, he slipped between the buildings and walked until the street noise faded. After confirming he was alone, he pulled a small notebook from inside his coat. Upon opening it, he immediately saw the message Dorothy had penned.
Without hesitation, he drew out his fountain pen and wrote:
> “I’m free. What’s going on? Is the situation dire?”
The response came rapidly:
> “It may involve deaths and links to dangerous covert forces. The full scope is unclear from here. A crisis has broken out in Tivian. Our people are all tied up elsewhere, and you’re the only one available. Please investigate and assess. Compensation will be fair based on risk.”
> “Ah, so much for my peaceful weekend,” Grey mused. Still, even as he frowned, he knew how these things worked. Ignoring it might mean facing an even larger mess down the road—something that would definitely land on his desk again. Better to deal with it early.
He replied:
> “Understood. I’ll look into it. Where am I going?”
> “Head to the Eastern District. This can’t wait. A cab is en route. Inside, you’ll find a dossier with the essentials.”
Grey closed the notebook and emerged from the alley. Back on the main street, he waved down a carriage and gave the driver his destination.
During the ride, a new page unfolded within the book, slowly revealing background on the assignment. The origin appeared to be a prominent family estate—one hiding a line of skin-changers who had tried to live ordinary lives. Now, something had disrupted that fragile peace. Old grievances may have resurfaced. And given the Rose Cross’s long-standing ties to the family’s founder, Grey had been selected to monitor the fallout.
> “A regular household thrown into chaos by dormant powers might retaliate in unpredictable ways. If we don’t address this early, the Bureau of Secrecy might have to launch a full operation—unprepared.”
> “That’s why you must act now. Prevent it from spiraling. Keep it quiet, if you can.”
Grey sighed as he read. So much for a quiet Saturday. Still, allowing the situation to fester would only bring Bureau headaches later—and likely overtime. Tackling it now was the smarter play.
An hour later, the cab rolled into a refined neighborhood in East Tivian. Grey stepped out at the appointed location and made his way down the street. At the end stood a wide, pristine estate—its ivory façade gleaming in the sunlight. Police wagons formed a perimeter out front. A crowd had gathered just behind the line, murmuring as they stared at the house.
Grey pushed through the cluster of onlookers and approached the barricade, which was guarded by two uniformed officers in steel-capped helmets. Within the property, others in law enforcement moved purposefully, documenting the scene.
The guards barked out as Grey neared:
> “This is a restricted zone! Civilians must clear off!”
Grey didn’t respond. Instead, he reached inside his coat and produced a gray-bound passbook. The emblem of the wind, the sword, and the crown was plainly visible on the front.
> “Gentlemen. Justice Enforcer rank. Requesting access.”
The officers frowned at the unfamiliar symbol. One asked pointedly:
> “Which district are you with? Never seen you around.”
> “That’s to be expected. I answer to higher channels. You can confirm with your superior—now.”
The guards exchanged wary glances. Eventually, one of them nodded and turned to fetch their commanding officer.
After several minutes, a senior inspector appeared, his coat buttoned tight and his expression skeptical. He eyed Grey with clear disapproval.
> “And who exactly are you claiming to be?”
The tension in the air rose. Other officers shifted position, some ready to pounce.
Without saying a word, Grey flipped open the passbook and carefully peeled back its outer layer. Beneath the gray was a black field—the same crest as before, but this one edged in silver and centered with a distinct lunar emblem.
> “Meisshaw,” he said plainly. “Surely you haven’t forgotten the name, Officer Holman?”
The moment Holman saw the insignia, his expression dropped. The condescension vanished in a heartbeat. The color drained from his face as recognition clicked into place.
> “Ah… yes, of course. I—must have misremembered. My apologies, Officer Meisshaw. Mistaken identity, clearly.”
Comments for chapter "Chapter 461"
MANGA DISCUSSION
Madara Info
Madara stands as a beacon for those desiring to craft a captivating online comic and manga reading platform on WordPress
For custom work request, please send email to wpstylish(at)gmail(dot)com