Apparently quite elated to be back in a human town after five millennia, the baron’s eyes gleamed as he said, “Hmm, things don’t seem to have changed much while I slumbered. Well, the human race reached completion at a fairly low level. Perhaps they don’t really want to change. Oh, that woman over there is simply stunning, isn’t she? My, just look at the size of her breasts! That hourglass shape! Mmmmm, and a derrière that sticks out like nobody’s business! That’s what I call progress. I retract my earlier statement.” This Nobleman didn’t seem like he had anything to do with either the Sacred Ancestor or “progress.” D first headed for the stables. His cyborg horse would need maintenance. “Stick with me,” he ordered the baron. “As if a Noble would enter some shack that reeks of horses! I’ll wait here,” Macula replied, steering clear of the entrance to the maintenance area. And yet, when D came back, the hoarse voice said in disbelief, “He’s not here!”
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