Chapter 220 The past is like hatred, it cannot be forgotten
Aiwass looked carefully at the old ritualist in front of him who was usually very low-key.
Queen Sofia ascended the throne sixty years ago when she was less than twenty years old.
Since Old Ibn knew Sophia at that time, can we say that... when he met Jacob Alexander, he was actually only in his early twenties?
He had a white beard and naturally curly hair that had turned gray, but even in his Avalonian attire, his features still had a hint of the foreigner's aura.
His oily green pupils were also covered with a layer of gray due to his age. If he were young, he might have been a handsome young man with deep eyebrows, black curly hair and a beard.
What did Jacob look like at that time that would make Ibn, who had not seen him for decades, feel familiar when he saw Aiwas?
Thinking of this, Aiwass was in a trance for a moment.
"Jacob Alexander..."
He immediately focused his mind and replied softly, "He is my grandfather."
Iben was a little confused: "But I remember that you are not from the Moriarty family..."
"James Moriarty is my adopted father."
Aiwass explained: "When I was a few years old, my parents and relatives were all killed. My adoptive father raised me."
“…To think that’s the case.”
Upon hearing this, the old man slightly widened his already cloudy eyes and muttered to himself: "This kind of thing can also happen in Avalon..."
He was silent for a moment and seemed to have aged several years.
"They were all cursed to death."
Aiwass continued calmly, "According to my research over the years, my grandfather died of typhoid fever fourteen years ago."
"Oh. Typhoid..."
Hearing this, Ibn scoffed. "It should be the typhoid curse. That's the curse Jacob invented... His philosophy at the time was to keep a low profile—it was best not to let people know it was a curse.
"It seems that the person who killed him must have learned the art of curse from him."
It was like an experienced old doctor who suddenly laughed when hearing students discussing a complicated disease, and interrupted the conversation to give a definite answer.
The feeling that one "had to take action" after all, along with the nostalgia for the past, gave people a sense of calmness, reliability and composure.
Aiwass was originally wondering why the court ritualist of Avalon was so weak... After hearing Ibn's story, he thought that Queen Sophia was only impressed by his character and morals.
But the strong self-confidence in the old man at this moment made Aiwass really feel his confidence.
Even though the energy level is low, it does not mean being weak.
"At that time, all we, the Scaleless Hand, wanted was to help people deal with those evil individuals, seek justice for them, or teach them a lesson. But the Scaleless Hand didn't want to become too famous, to the point of becoming trusted and relied upon by others."
Iben sighed and said, "This is the experience I shared with Jacob."
"……experience?"
"Yes, experience."
Ibn's pupils were deep, and there was a hint of lingering sadness in them: "If you are too famous, then people will always come to you for help when they have problems. But we are not gods, and not even gods are omnipotent.
"However, people don't dare to blame the gods, but they do blame us. They'll attribute our failures to not giving our best—while that's true, with so many commissions on hand, we're bound to have our priorities. And if someone comes to us and we refuse, we'll also be blamed. Not only that, we'll even be criticized and rebuked by our fellows...
"Is it the fault of the petitioners? Of course not. But it's not our fault either, nor is it the fault of the critics. Everyone came together with good intentions, but why can't such good intentions lead to equally good outcomes?"
Ibn seemed to be telling something, or whispering something to himself.
"These are the lessons I learned from my hometown. I shared these things with Jacob and made it clear to him in advance - from the very beginning, we are not everyone's savior. We will never be able to save everyone, so from the beginning, we should not raise people's expectations too high; we cannot complete all tasks, so we should not let people trust us too much.
"Under Jacob's leadership, the Scaleless Hand has always kept a low profile, operating as a secret society. Only those few who know of our existence can ask us to perform certain tasks. These tasks come with a heavy price... It's not that we seek profit from them, but we want to prevent people from placing all their hopes on us. In my experience, that would only lead to our downfall.
"Only those who are willing to pay any price for revenge can usually get a response from us. Otherwise, we are usually the ones who take the initiative - actively looking for what we should do. Then we are free, like the legendary thieves."
The old ritualist sighed, "To be honest, those days were very happy when I think about them now..."
He looked at Aiwass and chuckled, as if testing but also mocking himself. "But don't you think we're too heartless? We're an association formed to help others, yet we refuse to accept commissions from others."
"...No, you are correct."
Aiwass's fingers tapped unconsciously on the wheelchair armrests as he spoke softly, "No one is omnipotent... Therefore, not all requests can be granted. If you're dragged into an unfamiliar professional field out of sympathy, your efficiency and success rate will actually be much lower."
Of course, Aiwass didn't blame them. He just felt like he had been punched in the face by the words.
Isn't he such a person himself?
It's just that Aiwass is lucky and has not encountered any bad things that would dampen his enthusiasm; or maybe he is strong enough to always fulfill other people's requests.
——As long as the game is going our way, we are all good brothers.
It wasn't that Aiwass didn't know this truth. It was just that, having never failed before, he had become a little inflated by his luck.
but……
So my grandfather did the same thing back then?
No wonder my father chose the path of devotion and became a pastor...
"So, what about the manuscript Jacob left behind... do you have any clues?"
It was a rare opportunity to meet someone who knew my grandfather, so Aiwass pressed the issue: “Some say he might have been killed because of the manuscript that was about to be published.”
"Manuscript? This..."
Old Iben showed a look of guilt, the regret of being unable to help despite wanting to. "I'm sorry. The Scaleless Hand was formed during the era of the Hanged King. He died two years after I joined. And when I was arrested, the Queen had just ascended the throne. After that, I was taken away by His Majesty.
"I went back a year later... because I discovered that Her Majesty Sophia and the 'Hanging King' were not of the same kind. Perhaps we could make Avalon a better place and heal the people's misfortunes without rebelling against the royal family. I planned to form a team of ritualists for Her Majesty, and use this opportunity to give the Scaleless Hand's ritualists a legitimate identity.
"But when I went back to look for Jacob and the others, I discovered that our previous base had been abandoned. All means of communication had been cut off, and I received no response to my letters. I guess..."
The old man seemed to be choking on memories when he said this. His stagnant words turned into a long, grainy sigh like a bellows.
——I guess they thought I had betrayed them.
Although Ibn didn't say it out loud, Aiwass had already guessed what he was thinking.
Rationally speaking, this makes perfect sense. He couldn't naively leave the survival of his companions to Ibn's conscience simply out of affection and trust.
But that being said, it still hurts.
…But that was probably sixty years ago.
It was almost fifty years ago that the Scaleless Hand gradually disappeared, replaced by the Noble Red. In other words, Ibn seemed to have no idea what would happen ten years later...
What a pity, the clue was cut off again.
Aiwass felt a little regretful.
But he held onto a glimmer of hope and continued, "It seems my parents were also killed because of that manuscript. According to my research, they were probably killed by the Iron Hook Demon."
"...Iron Hook Demon?"
Ibn frowned. "Then there should be a professional curse caster, right? Could it be..."
"No. Probably not from the Scaleless Hand."
Aiwass explained, "The curser's name is Aziz. Aziz bin Abdul. What do you have in mind?"
When he heard the name, Iben's expression suddenly changed.
It was like an old lion suddenly opening its eyes and unsteadily standing up. Or like a dying wolf opening its eyes under the moonlight, its desolate and resolute killing intent chilling one's heart.
"—where is he?"
"...He left long ago. It is said that he crossed the desert and went to a country in the east... Maybe it was Parthia, or maybe it was Horus."
Aiwass first answered the question, then paused and asked, "Do you know him?"
This was a development he had never expected.
He originally thought that he could ask Ibn about his grandfather...but he didn't expect that Ibn knew very little about his grandfather, but actually knew the curser who cursed Alexander and his wife.
"A fat black man, huh?"
Ibn asked back.
"Yes. He has a dark brown face and a slight stoop."
Aiwass nodded in response, recounting the appearance of the man he had seen during the advancement ceremony. "He wore large jeweled rings on all ten fingers... a dozen years ago, he looked to be a middle-aged man in his fifties. He should be in his sixties or seventies now."
“…That’s him.”
Ibn was silent for a long time before he said softly, “I was betrayed by him when I was in Anxi.
"He is my junior apprentice and my nephew. He is also a slave I rescued after the city was destroyed.
"He betrayed us, who were wanted, and used our information to exchange for freedmen, a large house, eight slave girls, and became a curser serving a good master...
"...He's also come to Avalon."
Around 2 o'clock Chapter 2 Meow~
(End of this chapter)
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