This imitation work, titled The True Chronicle of Charlot Mecklenburg, was written by an author with the pen name "Snake, Snake, It’s Me!" Currently, this novel is still being serialized, and the story has only reached the part where Charlot turns a young maid into a centaur. The "exciting" developments that follow have yet to unfold.
Sabastine was actually quite entertained while reading it. After all, novels like this had never existed on the Old Continent.
Nor did they exist on the New Continent.
Was Charlot wrongfully attacked?
Well, whether he was or not hardly mattered.
Suddenly, Charlot found himself with three Saint-rank allies and a magic alchemical warship. Although two of the Saint-rank allies weren’t his subordinates—they were merely on loan from Menielman—and the magic alchemical warship didn’t belong to him either, he still felt a surge of power.
“With this strength, if an opportunity arises, it should be enough to ambush the Lizardman Black Dragon or the Silverback Gorilla Choudrou,” Charlot mused.
“Though, afterward, it would be impossible to withstand the wrath of the Lionman Amisfida.”
“This is tricky... I’ll just have to adapt as the situation demands.”
Sabastine commanded the fleet to sail into Dubrovnik. Charlot immediately handed over control of all the local ships to her, doubling the size of her pirate fleet to over a hundred vessels.
Charlot also arranged the finest residence in Dubrovnik for Sabastine, where she could overlook the Red Dragon Strait’s estuary from her room, enjoying the stunning scenery.
Without the orc threat, Dubrovnik’s beauty would rival Cynes. Moreover, its proximity to the Ingrima Empire’s three islands could even attract tourists from the empire.
Charlot regretted not being able to hold Dubrovnik for the long term. After settling Sabastine in, he turned his attention to the city’s affairs.
Although Charlot didn’t need Sabastine’s fleet to enhance Dubrovnik’s labyrinthification, integrating the fleet into the city’s system still held significant value.
Just after resolving a few collapsed areas and instructing the labyrinth guardians to repair them, Charlot heard someone shout, “Enemy alert!”
He hurriedly climbed up to the city wall and saw a small black dot zigzagging below, pursued by another small black dot. Switching to Eagle Eye, he recognized the fleeing figures. His heart nearly stopped.
It wasn’t just one person but two. He knew both of them. They were both women—Grandma Saint Karen and Annie Bretagne!
Charlot let out a furious shout, “Herolf! Tumisan! Sabastine! Hurry and rescue them!”
Without hesitation, Charlot leapt off the wall and activated the Swiftstep Technique, sprinting like mad.
Though he knew he wasn’t a match for any Saint-rank foe, how could he stand by while Annie was in danger? A single thought consumed him: “If anything happens to Annie, I’ll sacrifice my life to summon two Evil Gods and annihilate the orc encampment.”
The Leopardman’s speed shone at this moment, and he quickly reached the battlefield. Rather than attacking, he intercepted the Saint-rank pursuer, cutting off their chase of Grandma Saint Karen and Annie.
Moments later, Herolf the Golden Ram and Sabastine arrived on the scene.
With three Saint-rank combatants present, Grandma Saint Karen stopped fleeing and descended to the ground, blocking Charlot’s path.
Annie jumped down, threw herself into Charlot’s arms, and cried, “You’re alive! That’s wonderful!”
“My dear Charlot Mecklenburg, you’re unharmed—that’s truly wonderful…”
Overwhelmed by emotion, Annie began babbling incoherently before bursting into tears. She clung tightly to Charlot, refusing to let go.
Grandma Saint Karen shrugged slightly and said softly, “When Annie learned that the other four armies had been recalled, she insisted I bring her to save you. Unexpectedly, we encountered an orc Saint-rank enemy. To protect Annie, I couldn’t engage in combat.”
“And such battles aren’t a Dreamwalker’s specialty.”
Charlot was deeply moved. The girl he cherished had risked her life to save him upon hearing he was in danger. How could he not be touched by such love?
Love, like a moth to a flame, often burns with the brilliance of a fleeting life.
Grandma Saint Karen looked curiously at the sky and asked, “Since when do you have three Saint-rank allies helping you?”
Charlot hastily explained, “Herolf the Golden Ram accidentally signed a quasi-master-servant contract with me. I’ve mentioned it to Annie before.”
Annie, familiar with Charlot’s new "butler," had no idea the old ram was so powerful.
Charlot also briefly explained the origins of the other two Saint-rank allies, deliberately being vague. But Annie still figured it out—they were Menielman’s subordinates.
In her heart, Annie was deeply grateful to Menielman, believing that without Tumisan and Sabastine, Charlot would have been doomed.
There was, however, a slight misunderstanding here. If Charlot had chosen to flee, it wouldn’t have been easy for anyone to kill him.
Annie soaked Charlot’s shirt with her tears. Exhausted from the journey, she soon fell into a deep sleep in his arms, softly snoring.
Charlot, holding Annie, glanced briefly at the ongoing aerial battle and said to Grandma Saint Karen, “I’ll take Annie back to Dubrovnik. Please ensure that orc Saint-rank doesn’t escape, or we’ll have big trouble.”
Dubrovnik had the Leopardman and twenty thousand orcs, but no plausible explanation could justify the presence of three human Saint-rank combatants.
The only reasonable conclusion was that Tumisan had betrayed the orcs and defected to the humans.
That couldn’t be allowed to happen.
Charlot carried Annie back to his residence. Though anxious to know the outcome of the Saint-rank battle, he stayed by Annie’s side, silently practicing Blood Glory to calm his restless emotions.
His thoughts turned to Argon. “If I could subdue him, five Saint-rank allies would ensure that orc Saint-rank wouldn’t stand a chance.”
“Judging by his strength, he’s certainly not Amisfida. But is he the Lizardman Black Dragon or the Silverback Gorilla Choudrou?”
“If only we could kill this Saint-rank enemy. Capturing him alive would be even better!”
“I still have a magic contract parchment.”
“Though using it on a Saint-rank feels wasteful, does that even matter at a time like this? Strength must come first.”
“But if he escapes…”
“That would be a real headache!”
Charlot was caught between hope and worry.