Chapter Thirteen: In This Era Demanding Change

Time passed quietly.

Bavaria, Germanic Europe.

Beneath the lush greenery of the municipal courtyard, sunlight filtered softly through pale green leaves.

Miss Sophia was seated in the grand governmental hall adorned in Baroque style, assisting with the recent influx of documents. She was currently reviewing a letter sent from England:

“Supernatural Entities Act, Westminster’s highest agenda. Mr. Franks, have incidents of a similar nature increased recently in Bavaria?”

“Miss, supernatural crimes have indeed become more frequent lately. The most notable case is the Provence Slumber Incident, where, after the six o’clock bell, all tourists inexplicably fell into a deep sleep.”

“What were the findings of the subsequent investigation?”

“It appears that during the follow-up review, some tourists with no prior artistic background produced exquisitely delicate lavender sketches. According to the Academy of Sciences, they experienced a phenomenon of consciousness resonance caused by mental contamination.”

Franks, the Reinhardt family’s butler, had served two generations of Bavarian dukes. Having watched Sophia grow up, the sixty-year-old gentleman spoke candidly.

“I’ve heard the All Souls College recently undertook in-depth research on this topic. Miss, do you plan to return from England after your studies?”

“I am currently enrolled at Christ Church and have yet to gain admission to All Souls College.”

Oxford’s All Souls College was founded to honor the spirits of those who perished in the Hundred Years’ War. Unlike other colleges at Oxford, it has no resident students. Each year, the college invites the university’s most outstanding students to partake in a rigorous examination, from which the top two are inducted as members.

Membership in All Souls College is regarded as the utmost honor in Britain. Over time, the college has expanded the number of annual inductees and introduced new criteria, including the acceptance of supernatural beings.

Despite her noble lineage, the young lady had no airs and smiled warmly at her grandfather’s aged butler.

“But Christ Church boasts a chapel dining hall like the one in Harry Potter—it’s quite charming.”

Oxford University’s academic year consists of only three terms, each lasting eight weeks, totaling merely six months annually.

Thus, even by spending just her holiday periods with her father, Sophia could gradually deepen her understanding of Bavarian lands and governance.

Yet, she harbored some concerns.

“Since the emergence of supernatural beings cannot be prevented, the social order in Europe will surely be disrupted.”

“Little Sophia, that is not a worry you should bear,” her father, Duke Joseph Reinhardt, said as he entered the room.

“In times of transformation, it is the duty and honor of the nobility to seek new orders.”

He looked at his daughter with concern but smiled kindly and reassured her:

“Before the Westminster conference, I will host a banquet. There, you will witness firsthand the perspectives of others.”

She nodded and then attentively opened the newly recorded dossier in the government hall.

“Father, regarding Zero-Sum Game—those antisocial supernatural beings in Regensburg kidnapped fifteen children for a cult ritual. Have all the perpetrators been apprehended?”

“Not all; two escaped. Both are old rats from outside districts who fled to the Celtic territories under English control. The Rangers and the Clock Tower will cooperate in their pursuit.”

Hearing this, Sophia felt somewhat relieved.

From her office window, she gazed toward the towering Zugspitze, Germany’s highest peak.

Even in the heat of summer, its snowy summit remained untouched by time.

The majestic Alpine peaks and the picturesque hills and lakes in front, reflecting the soft light, were the eternal beauty of Bavaria.

While admiring the view, the young woman pondered reality.

She was no longer the princess who fell asleep clutching fairy tales on her velvet bed.

Bavaria needed more than a noble heir who only enjoyed leisure.

“My teacher once told me that transformation always brings death and sacrifice.”

“Little Sophia, you do not yet understand. When you see that vast sky and boundless land beyond, how could you ever wish to stand still?”

Unlike the conservatives and academics of the Clock Tower, the Roman Curia, or the Great Library, Joseph Reinhardt was a resolute pioneer.

Much like the former Ludwig I.

At the pivotal dawn of the European Industrial Revolution, he chose to build Germany’s first railway.

From then on, the long journey from Nuremberg to Fürth roared into history with the sound of steam whistles.

Joseph donned his coat, his voice gentle.

“Little Sophia, tell me about your university experience at Oxford.”

And so time passed swiftly.

On the eve of the Westminster House of Lords’ supernatural entity restriction meeting, Duke Reinhardt held an exclusive aristocratic banquet at the Cairns Hotel.

Since the upcoming conference would impact all of Europe, he chose not to keep the proceedings secret.

Instead, he invited the editor-in-chief of the Times, England’s most authoritative political newspaper.

As the crystal chandeliers lit up the resplendent ballroom, European nobles, each clad in finest bespoke attire, arrived in turn.

Outside, the timeless chimes of Cambridge’s St. Mary’s Church, ringing uninterrupted since 1793, floated on the night breeze.

At that very moment, an elegant gentleman in a black trench coat appeared in a London alley near the Cairns Hotel.

He smoothly adjusted his bow tie.

Then, as he brushed past a waiter dressed in Cairns uniform, the muffled sound of a silenced gunshot broke the silence.

The waiter, a disguised assassin, collapsed unawares onto the cobblestones, uttering only a calm phrase:

“The first one.”

London’s night stirred quietly with a whispering breeze.

Like the delicate flutter of a butterfly’s wings that can summon a tornado on America’s West Coast.