In an undisclosed location
Hilma Cygnaeus was smoking her pipe, watching as her compatriots in Eight Fingers argued with one another. An emergency meeting had been convened between all the prominent department heads of their shadowy organization. Time was of the essence, especially given that they were nearly on the brink of collapse.
And here we are, squabbling like children.
She didn't have a high opinion of any of her peers. And the feeling was mutual. If anything, the only reason any of them worked together was because of their shared greed, their desire to dominate the underworld by any means necessary.
Her eyes scanned the round table they all sat at. The room was dark, with only a few wax candles giving them enough light to see each other's faces. It was drab, but it did set the appropriate atmosphere. The candlelight shook with the collective rage of the department heads.
There was Ampetif Cocco Doll, the head of the Slave Department, and to his right was Zero, the head of the Security Department. They were engaged in deep conversation, the former crying dramatically.
Further down was Noah Zweden, the head of the gambling department, who glared daggers at Olin Dramsden, the banking department head. Oscas Verin, head of Larceny, was similarly engaged with Prian Polson, head of assassinations. They whispered furiously and slipped documents to each other. And near the head seat next to their organization's "esteemed" leader was Endio Zersky, the head of the smuggling division.
Hilma puffed her pipe, trying to read the lips of Eight Finger's leader. A hood obscured most of his face. Even in the dim light, she could see that his skin was clammy. His mouth trembled with a mixture of emotions: anger mostly, but a healthy dosage of fear.
For an odd reason, he kept glancing over his shoulder. Were they expecting someone else to come? As far as she knew, every department head had been summoned for this emergency meeting. It seemed a whim of fate that they all happened to be in the vicinity, otherwise it would have taken far longer to arrange things.
Not that it mattered. She could hardly focus with Cocco Doll's wailing in her ear.
"I can't believe my favorite messenger has gone missing!" wailed Ampetif Cocco Doll, head of their slave trade department. "Zero, surely Davernoch must be mistaken! He can't be dead!"
"We don't know if he's dead, just that he's missing," Zero replied calmly. He was one of the few voices of reason amongst the heated threats of the other department heads.
"But that magic tracker was 'top-notch' you said! Should've never trusted that stupid undead to handle anything delicate. Those bony fingers would be too harsh handling my delicate merchandise."
"I... look, I can't promise anything for certain anyhow. With Blue Roses up our ass and the loss of a majority of our income, there's too much uncertainty. We should've been out of this damned city ages ago."
"Like we could move! Have you not heard about our storehouses getting raided? All our products are disappearing, and our money with it! Who are we gonna sell to if there's no product left? First, that little girl bans slavery and now our drugs have gone missing."
Noah Zweden, head of the gambling department, rolled his eyes. "And yet we're still getting money somehow from the idiot nobility. Our departments take in some profits and you, Cocco Doll, can quit whining. Just because this one was your personal toy-"
"You don't understand! He was more than just a messenger to me! He was my best! We shared everything, and he kept things running smoothly. Without him, my other errand boys will run off!" Cocco Doll sniffed.
"Then just hire more. Re-Estize is bleeding dry, and that we haven't broken apart is a miracle in itself. I'd just as sooner take my share of the pie and scram."
Olin Dramsden sneered vehemently. "No honor among thieves, eh Noah? Should've expected you would have fled. I take it to you like our odds if you're still here."
The gambling head threw up his arms. "Hell no I don't! Chances are we get gutted and left with nothing in the best-case scenario. Our worst case is we get ousted like Blumrush and strung up by the neck by our customer base! I figured our illustrious leader would have thought of something by now."
Said leader visibly flinched. Hilma focused on him, gently smoking her pipe. "Do you have something in mind? You've been distracted this entire meeting."
A bead of sweat traced down the corner of his mouth. He wet his lips before speaking. "I... have it on good authority that we may have a solution. It will cost us dearly, but it is possible."
That got everyone's attention, even Hilma. "As if we're not paying the price already. Don't we still have reserves to pay off anyway? Just another point to add to our list of debts.
The smuggling head crossed his arms. "Easy for you to say. All you have to do is lie down and take it."
"Certainly. I pride myself on my skills, just the same as my girls. A pity the rest of you don't have the looks to pull it off like I can."
A flush of red erupted across her peer's face. He looked ready to yell but thought better of it, cursing to himself. The other department heads looked less than amused.
"That is... not exactly what I meant. There is someone I've been talking to. He claims that every issue of ours shares a common source, something that we can do to fix it all. But he hasn't- he hasn't shown up yet to pitch the idea."
Hilma raised an eyebrow. "So you are waiting for somebody else. Well, out with it. Where is this mysterious benefactor of ours with their miraculous "solution"?
"Why, right here of course."
A bony hand rested on her shoulder. Hilma nearly jumped out of her skin, the pipe falling out of her mouth at the new voice. The other department heads leaped out of their seats, Zero's tattoos glowing with power.
The high-end woman, who usually prided herself on her cool demeanor and ability to take control in a social situation, felt an unusual pressure rest upon her. It was subtle but noticeable, restraining her to the chair. The hand rubbed her shoulder, and then patted it.
"Thank you for having me here, William. I am Raksus Obek Forone of the Forone Estate. Some of you may be familiar with me, but most are not. I'd prefer to keep my identity among you select few until the time is right," the man said smoothly, his voice sweet like honey.
Noah Zweden whirled on Zero, who still glowered at the newcomer. "What the hell, Zero?! What are we paying you for if the security isn't premium? How'd he sneak in here and we didn't notice?"
Zero said nothing, but the question was evident on his face. Hilma realized he didn't know either. Whoever this was, they had an uncanny ability to remain undetected for as long as they pleased. This was the one their leader was waiting for, alright.
"Now, without tarrying on too long, I should explain why I am here." Raksus continued without a care in the world. "Your organization is under attack. I know the attackers and have a plan to get rid of them. I only ask that you cooperate with me and then we can continue on our merry way. Sound fair, lady and gentlemen?"
The department heads looked to their leader, now named William. He gulped but gestured for everyone to return to their seats. They did so, Zero the last. He shot Raksus another glare before he sunk heavily down into his chair.
Raksus hummed in amusement. "Excellent. Now a bit of mead before the honey. All of you are going to be under new management. Not me, thankfully, but relatively soon according to my source. You will need to be absorbed without issue. This cannot be stopped."
Discord erupted from the more vocal heads but quickly quieted down when they noticed the way Raksus remained calm. Hilma couldn't see the man's voice, but he must've exuded a similar pressure on them as he did her.
"In a few days, roughly, another man and his compatriot will arrive to press you into service. He will offer you a good deal that I suggest you take. This is two-fold. One, all of you can promptly fill your pockets with the compensation this man offers, and two, I require a distraction while I work on my solution."
"What sort of distraction?" Asked Olin, now curious. "This is a bit more vague than I'd prefer. What connection do you have with us?"
Raksus lifted his hand long enough to jab a finger at their organization's leader. "William here owes me a favor. All those funds to build this little operation had to come from somewhere, not to mention I leave behind tips on where to find the best slaves. It's about time I am paid in full for my contributions to this cause."
"Boss, what in the hell is he talking about?" Asked one of the department heads. All eyes turned to William, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
"I... in the beginning, we had backers to get some of the money used to pay off the nobility. We also needed some connection to the more remote villages, places where we could grow our product and take labor as needed. Raksus here helped us with some of it."
Raksus tutted. "Downplaying me, William? That's rather rude. Regardless, you asked what sort of distraction I needed. It's quite simple really. I need all of you... to put on a show."
"A... show?" Prian dared to ask.
Raksus slapped the table, startling Hilma. "Put on a show! Keep the nobility and people distracted with your presence! The city is overloaded with refugees, people riot in the streets, and the guilds are on the verge of mutiny! Be more open with your business, draw eyes away from me while I work on weeding out the threats to our joint efforts."
That same bony hand swept across the room. "Utilize Six Arms to strong-arm in broad daylight. Send assassins after those I tell you. Beat down on those who owe you debts so that our enemies do not see my work. So that I may gather enough power to unlock this..."
Then the shadow man slipped past Hilda's shoulder something wicked. It stabbed into the table, the abused furniture groaning from the weight of a sword pitch as night. It radiated pure hatred, a heat that made the classy former prostitute want to shrivel up and die. It almost felt like a pair of eyes bored into her soul, tearing out her secrets.
Zero choked at the sight of the weapon. "Holy fuck, where did you get that? Davernoch would have a field day with that."
"This," Raksus stepped closer to the table, part of his face alight from the candlelight, "is a weapon fit to kill gods. Your attackers are named Ainz Ooal Gown. They wish to subsume everything in their path in a misguided attempt to protect themselves. All your past problems up to now are their fault. I can slay them with this, but only if I can tap into its full potential."
Nobody said anything, too intent on listening to this mysterious benefactor of theirs. His voice possessed a commanding quality that made them want to listen, possibly magic in nature. Hilma couldn't say for sure since most of her magical knowledge came from getting her viper tattoo.
Another facet of her ability, as a result of the drug trade, was that she could usually tell a person's thoughts just by listening to the fluctuations in a person's voice. This allowed her to blackmail them more easily. Or build ties better in a way that was beneficial to her. It was how she managed to obtain the favor of so many nobles' sons.
Which disturbed her as to why she couldn't get at what the man ultimately wanted. He claimed that he wished to fix their problems, but it was a mask for what he was after. She got the impression it was so he could "unlock" the sword, but his voice betrayed nothing.
His intentional vagueness would keep them in the dark. Whatever the end goal, Eight Fingers as a whole would not understand until the "right time". Perhaps when their future "management" came along to take over would the answer reveal itself.
Not to mention that the trademark greed of her peers appeared in their eyes. They could sense an opportunity when they heard it. Even if it was likely rigged as a trap, the fact their leader was willing to work with Raksus meant he had some credibility.
Oscas took the leap. "So... this magic sword of yours could take out this Ainz Ooal Gown for us. You're willing to solve that problem for... free?"
"Not free, but your coffers will appreciate not losing any more coin to me. I ask only for your time and some bodies when applicable. I understand here that Miss Hilma has connections that I can use."
Hilma sensed a chance and took it. "I own many fine brothels and have ties with the less important sons of the noble houses. My drug trade is in shambles but still salvageable. Whatever you need, ask. Though I can't promise anything."
"All I require are some names. Weed pulling works best when you have poison to kill the roots, but only if you know what sort of weeds you're dealing with."
Raksus pulled the blade from the table. "I thank you all for listening. I must depart now to collect someone else vital to my plans. I'll find you later this evening to get that list, Miss Hilma. Remember, you must cause as much mayhem as possible. If I am discovered before it's time, then this will have been for nothing. My associates and I will keep in touch."
The pressure on Hilma ceased immediately. Hilma almost collapsed onto the table but managed to remain upright in her chair. She turned to see if there was any trace of Raksus, but he vanished.
Every other department head breathed a collective sigh of relief. Zero was still angry. "A pair of balls on him to come and demand that kind of service from us. Fine, whatever. Six Arms has been getting antsy, might feel good to let loose a little. Malmvist will appreciate it."
"I-I'll see if I can't send a couple of debt collectors after the gamblers who owe me," answered Noah Zweden.
"I'll start putting some trade holds in the merchants guild, rile them into action," answered the smuggling department head.
"Adventurer's Guild coffers could use some looking into. Their financial records seem a tad light."
"The last of my slaves can be let loose to whip the people into a frenzy. Those of E-Rantel must be boiling with resentment."
Hilma sighed, hearing her fellows make their declarations. "I'd better prepare that list. I suppose my girls can start looking into some of the rumors regarding the lost storehouses..."
For the first time in several months, Eight Fingers clamored for new business.
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Back at Valencia Palace
First Prince Barbro Andreas Leld Ryle Vaiself paced his private quarters angrily, his hands trembling with his rage what he wouldn't give to simply strangle the magician that silenced him!
Even now he clawed at his throat as if he could somehow dig out the voice that stubbornly remained silent. His body was his own to command, not some foreign magic user! He would never forgive such an insult upon his person. He was the crown prince and future king of Re-Estize. He would not be kicked aside like some low-born commoner.
His rage boiled over. He flipped over one of the tables in his quarters, spilling useless books all over the floor. He left the chairs be. It was the best he could do since he couldn't vent his frustration by yelling.
Honestly, what was his father thinking? That he could be so easily manhandled by those foreigners into such a vague and open-ended treaty, was one of the reasons Babro was more fit to rule than his decrepit father.
He bit his knuckle in thought. His backers in the Noble faction had assured him that with the rising chaos of the kingdom, the time was nigh for him to assume control and usurp his father. With the arrival of Ainz Ooal Gown, he had no doubt those plans would be put on hold. Marquie Boullope promised him that they would claw their way to the throne one way or another, and now it was ruined!
No, not ruined. I still have connections to Eight Fingers. They can help me. They have some of the best assassins in the country. Perhaps if I pay enough money to hire some...
He'd been in league with the criminal organization for some time now. Their services were instrumental in paving the way to the crown, and he was far from the only one with ties to their shadowy syndicate. He vaguely recalled an older man who'd approached him a few days before and offered to speak on his behalf for him. At the time, he claimed that something would disrupt the flow of power in the kingdom and potentially hamper his progression.
At first, he laughed. Who would dare to stand in his way? His father would never dare, and his younger brother Zanac and that moronic Marquis Pespea lacked the ball bearings to take the throne by force. Who was that backward noble, Raksus Obek Forone, to assume that he could speak to the future king as his equal?!
Now that he thought about it... Where had Raksus come from? Anything that didn't affect him personally tended to be tossed to the wayside. He lacked patience for whatever didn't immediately help him, and Raksus was a used-up nobleman who happened to own one of the largest crop farms in the kingdom. He was nothing. He would never be anyone of note, doomed to die in obscurity.
He slammed his fist into the wall. What could he do? He couldn't speak for the time being. Marquis Boullope had fled like a coward once the meeting was dismissed, likely fearing for his life at the sight of the silver knight, Sir Sebastian Tou-Chi. His father's and that foreign mage's entourages were outside the castle now, meandering the upper districts. He briefly debated swallowing his pride to send a letter to one of his messengers to carry to his Eight Finger's contacts.
"Are you alright, my prince? You seem worse for wear. Might I ease your mind for the moment?" Asked a new voice, painfully familiar.
Babro whirled to the source, wide-eyed to see that same old nobleman in his private quarters. He held up a mirror to himself, checking his beard and dutifully combing it.
Raksus wore one of the suits he'd seen many in the nobility faction found in fashion, made of an inky fabric that hugged his form. It was hemmed in gold, the breast buttons open to reveal a gold chain that wrapped across his shoulder like a satchel. Settled on his shoulders was a red mantle so smooth it reminded Babro of spilled blood, tassel cords danged loosely from the mantle's edge.
His face was weathered, pale with sunken, light-brown eyes. His comb-over hair and beard were white as frost. Everything on his face was so contrasted and sharp that his skin seemed stretched over his skull, any trace of muscle removed. It surprisingly helped to smooth out the wrinkles a man of his age should have.
"Cat got your tongue, my prince?" The man teased, his voice rich and smooth. "Or have I startled you that badly? No, don't answer that. You're unsettled by something else. Your hands haven't stopped shaking."
True to his word, Barbro's hands hadn't calmed down. His rage had been replaced by an emotion entirely foreign to him: absolute fear.
Raksus stuffed the mirror back in his coat pocket along with his comb. "Do not fret, I am not here to hurt you. Quite the opposite. But first, I think we should restore your voice to you, shall we?"
The old man snapped his fingers. His eyes blazed emerald green for a moment, innate magic if Babro guessed. Something untangled in Barbro's throat. With a gasp, he heard his voice return within an instant.
"You again?!" He rubbed his Adam's apple. "I've just about had enough of you magicians for one day. Did Marquis Boullope send you, or one of the others backing me? I figured they scurried off with their tails between their legs."
"Not any of them, I'm afraid. We do share common friends, though I am hardly here on their behalf. Would you like to sit down? You look overstimulated."
"Damn you! Will you talk me to death then? Either explain yourself or get out. I haven't the time to deal with your kind, not like this. What I need-"
"Is a solution to your problem. If you would listen to me, I might have something to offer you. I assure you that it's well worth your time."
Barbro glanced past the wizened man towards his door. He wondered if he might shove past the man and call for security. He was far younger and stronger than Raksus was, he had no doubt he could easily overpower him if push came to shove.
Yet, his instincts screamed at him to sit and listen. This... nobleman somehow managed to sneak into the castle uninvited and into his quarters. He got the impression that if he was supposed to be dead, his throat would already be gaping open with blood.
Apprehensively, he sat down in the chair of the flipped table. Raksus's eyes gleamed with amusement, taking the other undamaged seat across from him.
Raksus smoothed the front of his jacket. "I'll get straight to the point. Your kingdom is doomed to fall under the control of Ainz Ooal Gown. There is no stopping it."
Babro grit his teeth. "That's your wisdom? The 'treaty' has already been signed by my father. We surrender control of E-Rantel for the vague promise of 'aid' from their kingdom of Elysium, wherever that is if it even exists. You're far too late, old man."
"Am I? I would beg to differ. You see, crown prince, not all is lost. Based on your reaction earlier, you remember me from a few days ago. I am impressed by your illustrious memory to recall my aged features."
"Only because you invade my sanctity. You... you mentioned something about being my spokesperson. A spokesperson for what?" Babro drummed his fingers.
Raksus folded his hands in his lap, crossing one leg over another. "For Eight Fingers, of course. I just came back from a meeting with them. Suffice to say, I have rallied them to arms to take this city by the throat, much like you were by that mage in the red and green mask."
"A sense of humor huh," Babro scowled, "Again I'm going to ask you: what could you possibly want from me?"
"Simple, young prince. I need you to do absolutely nothing."
"...What?"
The old man smiled, his teeth unnaturally white. "You heard me. I want you and the other nobles to stay out of my way. I have a plan to potentially get rid of Ainz Ooal Gown, but I cannot afford you and the other idiots who run this country to be impeding my progress. I need you to look the other way, as you always have, but force the Royal faction to abide too. I don't care how you do it so long as it does not impact me in any way."
"Ha! You expect me to force the dreaming fools who follow my father to listen to me?! I am the heir apparent to the throne! I don't have to force them to do anything because I already have that power! What right have you-"
"Expect the next few days to become chaotic. The guilds will cause a ruckus first. This will ripple out into the local populace and stir them into another riot. I'd take a nice vacation somewhere peaceful when that happens. I'd hate to see your royal garb bespeckled by gore."
Babro stared at the nobleman, not fully comprehending what he was being asked. Instead, he felt the familiar boiling of his blood when it came to these situations. This man, an obscure high-born, was telling him, the crown prince, what to do? Was he frothing mad?
He clenched his fists, balling up the fabric of his pants in his grip. He wanted to shout out some obscenity at Raksus. In his mind, he envisioned holding the older nobleman at sword point and forcing him to beg for forgiveness. The first prince would not tolerate such brazen forwardness!
Again, his instincts reacted violently. Every alarm conceivable was going off in his head as if he were about to touch a cursed artifact. An unpleasant shiver ran up his spine when his eyes met with Raksus's, whose gaze regarded him coolly.
Raksus pursed his lips. "I assure you, Your Highness, that it will only be temporary. You're not my target either way. Just keep yourself and the other nobles out of my way and we're fine."
"So you say... Fine. I'll come up with an excuse to remain quartered. But when the annual war comes up, when I must prove myself before the others-"
"Really? I thought you vainglorious, but not foolhardy. Such as it is, I anticipate the annual war will take a drastic turn after I'm done."
"In what way?"
"Let's just say that I happen to have connections beyond just this rotted carcass of a kingdom. There's no use in really elaborating since you're not involved in the plan besides this little chat of ours. Subjugate some peasants, retreat to your private estate, I don't care what you do. Just remember what I told you."
That green light from before flared in the old man's eyes. He stood up and went towards the corner of the room where the chandelier light didn't quite reach. That sinister smile of too-white teeth bared itself at Babro.
"If you'll excuse me, I must be off. I have one last errand to run today. Hurry along now, young prince. I'd hate to see my words go in one ear and fall out the other."
And then Raksus stepped into the corner completely. His body disappeared, melting into shadow and swallowing him whole. There was a wispy sigh like the room itself was exhaling its last breath. The presence of the old man faded away completely.
Barbro counted to nine and then stood up. With deliberate steps, he approached the corner and lightly tapped where the darkness started with the tip of his shoe. He half-expected some beast or whatever took Raksus to bite off his foot, leather and all. Instead, the tip passed harmlessly into the shadow.
He jerked his foot back and repeated the motion. Nothing else happened. He breathed a sigh of relief and brushed back his hair. His hand came back damp. With a start, he realized that he'd been sweating profusely. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed his forehead.
What am I doing? Why the hell does that old man make me nervous? He should be the one quaking in his boots, not I!
Babro grit his teeth. "'Stay out of my way' you say? Like hell I'll just roll over and submit! You're not the only one with connections, Raksus, and you will rue the day you tried to make a fool out of First Prince Barbro Andreas Leld Ryle Vaiself!"
There was a process to all of this. He needed to convene his meeting with his allies in the Royalty Faction. Heads would roll for this slight.
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Magician's Guild, Re-Estize that same day
Ninya laid her head on the table with a groan. "How much longer are they going to keep us out here like this? This isn't how I imagined I'd get to spend the day here."
Lukrut Volve joined her with an incredibly dramatic groan of his own. "You're telling me! How many beautiful women are we leaving out there to the mercy of those dragons that flew in?!"
"I'm pretty sure they're fine, Lukrut. That the dragons from the sky haven't torched the entire capital to the ground makes me think they'll live," Peter Mauk said, crossing his arms.
"I'm shocked they haven't done anything yet either. Ninya, you're sure they were just accompanying a 'golden carriage'? They're not here for anything else?" Dyne Woodwonder stroked his beard nervously.
"Maybe. I don't know, I just happened to be outside when I saw it!" Ninya bumped her head on the table's edge. "But with the eclipse, it's kinda hard to miss. I'm just lucky I used magic to protect my eyes."
Her teammates nodded in agreement. Currently, they were seated at a table that had been hastily set up for them in the Magician's Guild. Pluton Ainzach, the head of the former Adventurer's Guild of E-Rantel, was involved in his meeting with the other guild leaders of Re-Estize.
They'd been stuck there for about half an hour now. They were explicitly told not to leave, in case one of the other guild leaders wished to question Ninya on what she saw. Given the last few months, it wasn't any surprise that she and her friends became a source of interest.
Swords of Darkness was the last adventuring party to have any contact with the Argonauts, who'd mysteriously disappeared shortly after the fall of E-Rantel. Nobody had heard any word of them since. Many eyes were keeping an eye out for them, but no luck so far.
Ninya wondered if the Argonauts returned to their homeland. It seemed an odd choice since they'd been given an emergency field promotion to Adamantine rank on their first day. Likewise, The Swords of Darkness enjoyed a hefty promotion to Platinum.
Not that they could make use of it anyway. All surviving adventurers had been mostly confined to Re-Estize to help with E-Rantel's refugees. Those who did get to do their jobs were mostly Orichulchum rank and higher. The other cities in the kingdom cared little for the capital's plight, which was proven right time and time again with the riots and lack of action from the nobility that ruled.
From what Ninya understood, the Adventurer's Guild tended not to get involved with political affairs. Unlike the Baharuth Empire's "workers" system, it was encouraged that adventurers remain as neutral as possible to not draw unwanted attention. This did not stop some adventurers from selling out their services once they retired from adventuring, though.
Such as it was, Ninya and her friends had drifted aimlessly into the capital. They'd enjoyed nicer accommodations on account of their service to the King when they first arrived but had little other duties beyond that.
It didn't help that some of them were getting antsy.
"Have I ever told you guys how much I hate that Sandor guy? The one with the hand cannon?" Lukrut bemoaned.
"Yes, quite often," Peter deadpanned. "You made sure to tell everyone in the tavern the other night when you got nearly black-out drunk."
"How is it my fault that people like that stupid hunk of metal over a beautifully hand-crafted bow? He thinks he's so cool wielding that stupid fire-breathing club of his. I thought women didn't like marksmen!"
Ninya frowned slightly. "It does sound kinda neat when you describe a hand cannon as a 'fire-breathing club'."
"You're supposed to be on my side, Ninya! You're like our loveable little bro. It won't do if we have someone like Sandor waving that thing around and attracting all the ladies from us, especially me!"
Lukrut held back a sob. Dyne quickly chopped the back of his head with his hand to get him to stop. "Lukrut, there will be plenty of time for those things later. Right now we have bigger issues to worry about. Besides, I heard hand cannons are a specialty where Sandor comes from."
Peter snapped his fingers. "That place called Kuiv, right? On the other side of the continent? He probably saw some very impressive sights coming from over here."
Ninya recalled asking Sandor T. Aphla where he'd gotten his hand-cannon rifle from. They'd never interacted much before the fall of E-Rantel, but present circumstances forced many of the surviving adventurers to band together and work more closely than before.
He'd said it was a common trade back in his home country. When Peter had pulled out a map and asked him to point it out to them, Sandor had simply shook his head and said "The maps over on this side of the continent are incomplete. I'd be pointing at space if I used your map."
Afterward, he'd shown them his version of the continental map, revealing the world was a far larger place than they realized. When they tried to press further on how something as expensive as a hand cannon could be considered "common" in his home country, his expression became guarded.
"You seem like good folk, so I'll just tell you this once," he'd said with an unusual intensity. "While we deal in firearms, being a fusilier came with extreme cost. You shouldn't question where I got my rifle. I'd have to answer some truths that remain better buried."
By that point, Lukrut had already made Sandor his one-sided rival. The mystery made the "fusilier" an irritating person in the bowman's mind. Ninya and the others simply dealt with his drunken rants as best they could.
"Swords of Darkness? Are the Swords of Darkness still present?" Called an attendant. Ninya and her friends snapped to attention.
Peter waved to the attendant. "Over here! Do they need us?"
"Yes. The guildmasters are ready for you. Please, right this way."
Within a couple of minutes, Ninya, Peter, Lukrut, and Dyne were all seated before three of the most important people they'd dealt with in the last week. Individuals who could single-handedly decide the fate of their team.
The first was, obviously, Pluton Ainzach. The grizzled veteran and head of E-Rantel's Adventurer's Guild seemed disgruntled. A vein popped on his forehead, but that was the only real sign of displeasure he displayed. The moment the Swords of Darkness walked in, he calmed down and gave them a polite head nod.
The second was a wizened, cloaked man with long hair and a thin mustache. He was unnaturally thin, to the point of being emaciated, though a particular gleam in his eye betrayed that he was still in good health. His name was Theo Rakheshir, the head of the Magician's Guild and a former teammate of Pluton back in their adventurer's day.
The third man was morbidly overweight. Rolls of fat made him appear as a bloated mass of oily skin constrained by the fine clothing that he wore. His face was unremarkable save for his gray goatee and mustache, barely concealing the stairway of chins jutting from his jaw. His name was Panasolei Gruze Day Rettenmair, the former mayor of E-Rantel and fierce advocate for his remaining people.
Ninya was intimately familiar with all three. Pluton because he was the former guild master of the Adventurer's Guild in E-Rantel, and Theo since all new magic casters had to be registered to apply their craft while working. The mayor had been a welcome surprise, due to many believing he had initially perished in the sacking of the city. He hadn't been found until his own home was excavated and they found his unconscious body beneath the rubble.
Theo himself had escaped the desolation due to being called out for urgent business at the time. He'd remained cooped up in the capital until E-Rantel's survivors made it, and both guildmasters and the mayor himself conspired together ever since.
"Oh, this must be the young man who first spotted the dragons," the mayor greeted jovially. He breathed heavily, reminding Ninya of the way a pig would. "We have just finished discussing that matter of business. I hear you are one of our first-rate dragon slayers."
Ninya blushed slightly, waving off the compliment. "Not quite that way, my lord. I just happened to fight an Amalgam Skeletal Dragon with the New Wise King. Couldn't have done it without him."
"You are too modest with yourself, Ninya," Pluton commented. "Though I take your point about the New Wise King. Still, we wish to hear about what you saw during that flash eclipse."
"Make sure not to spare a single detail. Share with us everything about those beasts you saw: their scale color, the shape of their heads, how many limbs they had, and especially about that flying magic carriage! The one with the flaming horses!" Theo said with barely restrained glee.
Ninya recounted as best she could based on what she saw. Peter and the others tried to jump in and share any details she might've missed when the odd formation of creatures landed at the Royal palace itself. The guild masters and mayor listened with rapt attention, only pausing to ask the occasional question or two.
An attendant brought them refreshments. Just a plate of sliced fruit and goblets of cider. Ninya drank greedily when her throat parched from all the talking.
By the time she finished, Theo curled a strand of his hair in thought. "If what you report is accurate, then whoever arrived is extremely well-versed in magic. Exquisite! A solid gold carriage drawn by flaming horses... I can only guess at what tier of magic it could be. Fifth tier? Sixth tier? Oooh, the possibilities could be endless!"
"Even if the carriage was enchanted, the cost of gold required alone to make it is astronomical. Certainly seems more than the kingdom...could..." the mayor started to say but shook his head. Ninya wondered where he was going with that statement, but Pluton barreled on.
"I highly doubt it, but a small part of me hopes it might be the Argonauts. They probably didn't know about our rule about not engaging in the viper's nest which is politics. But if they've been gone this long with no real clues to their whereabouts, then it might be time to say that they're gone for good."
The young magic caster noticed the veteran's hands clenched with frustration. "Who knows? I wish they could've stayed behind. We could have used their help, especially now. I just hope Aria, Roger, Momon, and Cerise are okay, wherever they are."
They grunted in agreement, and Pluton's hands unclenched. Ninya had no doubt the Adventurer's Guild Master was angry. It was not directed at the Argonauts, per se, even if it was in part. Adventurers went on long missions all the time without reaching out to the guild for help. The Argonauts would be no exception, even if they had been only bronze plates on their first day in E-Rantel.
Her intuition told her that wasn't their first time adventuring either. Maybe in E-Rantel, but they had to come from somewhere. Whatever their origin, they likely had years more experience than they let on. Aria in particular had to have a spectacular teacher to learn the magic that she did.
The memory of her own magic master brought a soft smile to her face. It had been a few years since she saw her teacher. Many nights in the library by candlelight as she scoured his tomes, before her journey on the road and meeting with the Swords of Darkness, were cherished moments. So long as she lived, she'd never forget him.
What was he up to now?
"Thank you for your time, Swords of Darkness. My associates and I will finish up things here before I depart for the palace. Surely His Highness could use some advice on the situation ahead," Panasolei smiled politely to them.
"And given the palace has not exploded with magical power, things must be progressing swimmingly" Theo added, excitedly standing up. "I will be accompanying you to the palace as well. What wonders I shall find there!"
"Which I suppose leaves me to do the paperwork," Pluton sighed tiredly. "That is alright. I'll find Brita and we can do it together. I hope she hasn't left the city with Steffens yet. She's too green to keep that OwlBear."
With a simple hand wave, they were dismissed. Ninya and her friends left the meeting room and found themselves right back where they started. It might've been frustrating, but adventurers like them understood the procedure. With the circumstances happening of late, there was no telling what tomorrow might bring.
"Welp, there goes another day of our lives," Lukrut casually stated. "I want to head back to the tavern now. Maybe this time someone will back me up on Sandor's total cheating with his hand cannon!"
Dyne smiled sheepishly. "I'll join you as well. I have enough on my mind worrying about my folks back home. The Forest of Tob is hardly a safe space anymore. Peter, Ninya, what about you two?"
"If it's alright with you, I'd prefer to walk around the city a bit. It's tiring being cooped up in the tavern or our rooms in the palace all the time," Peter admitted. "What about you Ninya? Want to walk around with me? I think I recall you saying you wanted to visit some of the shops?"
"Oh, yeah. Sure! I could do with some supplies. Never know when the king might need us to interpret [Message] spells again," Ninya remarked with a soft grin.
Having said that, they parted ways, and Ninya and Peter began walking around the Noble's district. It would take a bit before they reached the open-air market, so they simply enjoyed the sight of expensive mansions while on the way.
Ninya wondered just what rank of adventurer she'd have to be to afford such accommodation without outside help. As a personal guest of the King who provided personal services, she could probably ask at this point. That didn't seem fair since it was mere happenstance. Perhaps she'd need to be adamantine rank to pay the cost or have a rich nobleman as her sponsor.
Which reminded her of another adventuring group that was currently in town. Blue Roses were their name. An all-female adventuring group that was legendary for their exploits. To someone like Ninya, they were an inspiration to behold. Had she been able to reveal herself as a woman, she wondered if she could one day join them.
Bah. There was no point in considering that possibility. She was more than content with the Swords of Darkness. They formed out of the belief that they could one day unite all the Demon Blades, like the one that Lakyus Alvein Dale Aindra had. To abandon them simply because she felt more comfortable in her skin was unthinkable.
Her teacher encouraged her to stay true to herself. When she first came to him, her very first test was to prove the extent of her willingness to remain pure in her self-image. He understood her secrecy, but not her methods. He would be disappointed if he saw her now.
For that reason alone did she trust her friends among the Swords of Darkness. If she came out as a woman instead of the young boy they all knew her as she had no doubt they'd accept her as is. Still, that conversation she had with the New Wise King echoed in her mind, playing on repeat over and over again.
It's not their fight. This is my battle alone to save my sister. They shouldn't have to deal with my nonsense when they have their problems to deal with.
But it'd been months since that encounter with the Wise King. She couldn't hide forever. Eventually, the truth would come to light and she would no longer be able to hide amidst her disguise. It would be better to simply come out and say it instead of them figuring out the truth on their own.
Because they could help her find her sister that way.
"Hey, Peter, could we stop for a moment?" She finally asked right as they walked down a busy street in the nobles' neighborhood, close to an alleyway. They were still a long way off from the merchants' district, but Peter gave her his undivided attention.
"Something up?" He asked. "Not feeling well? We can head back if you want."
"No. Well, sorta. I think I need to come clean about myself, something I should have told you and the others months ago."
"Sure! I'm all ears!"
Peter smiled so kindly at her. He rested his hands on his hips with a casual air, his attention completely focused on her. A bit of heat infused her cheeks. It flustered her to suddenly be the center of attention, even if it was just Peter Mauk.
That was likely specifically the reason. Peter was so good to her, the way an older brother would treat their younger sibling. Lukrut had mentioned it earlier in passing, but she was the Swords of Darkness's "little bro". They'd never judged her for her age, or lack of experience when she first joined. They always made sure to include her in, well, everything.
Dyne Woodwonder, who taught her some of the first spells she learned after leaving her Master's side. Who encouraged her to follow her dream of one day finding all four "Swords of Darkness", after which their group was named.
Lukrut Volve, who explained all the intricacies of a bow and how to be an efficient marksman to her. Hardly was there a time the archer didn't try to sit Ninya down and engage in "guy talk". The number of times he tried to teach Ninya how to make the ladies swoon...
And, of course, Peter Mauk, who accepted her without question and never pried into her past. He was their pillar, their foundation. If anyone could handle the truth of who she truly was, then it could only be him.
Taking all of that into account, Ninya drew a deep breath. "I'm-I'm not who I've said I am. Ever since I first joined up with the Swords of Darkness, I kept myself hidden away because I wasn't sure who to trust at first."
"Okay. Do you feel like that's changed now since we're having this conversation?"
"...It has. You see, there's another reason I became an adventurer beyond just finding the Black Knight's swords. I'm looking for my sister, and I'm actually a-"
A loud BANG from the alleyway drew their attention. Peter held up a hand to stop her and turned to see what was going on. Ninya was on guard as well, which felt silly since they were in a wealthier part of the capital. Security would be much tighter there, but the riots of late hadn't instilled much confidence in her.
Looking down the alleyway, she saw someone bundled in rags with his head lowered. He was cursing steadily, trying to fix a barrel that'd been left in the alleyway next to him. He must've knocked it over. Was he a drunkard at this time of the day?
Ninya moved to check up on the man but Peter held out an arm. She looked up at him and saw him slowly shake his head. From where they stood, the adventuring leader called out. "Hello there, are you okay?"
The man was so startled by Peter's voice that he knocked over the barrel again. Once he fixed it properly, the man in rags turned, revealing his face. Ninya reflexively gasped in horror, covering her mouth at the sight.
Before them was a man around Gazef Stronoff's age, maybe slightly younger. Once he'd had blue hair, but the dye was quickly fading away. He might have been roguishly handsome once, the sort of dastardly face that made women swoon at the tavern.
His eyes ruined the effect. They were swollen and beet red. Pulsating tracks of crimson-like bloody tears carved their way down his face. They ended right at his jawline, and black cracks made it look infected. From the way the man winced, he was used to reactions like hers.
"...Just leave me be. I don't want to be seen like this," the man hoarsely whispered. "I won't deal with any more monsters, no more monsters. Go away!"
Ninya's eyes darted to Peter. He maintained a calmer composure than she did, but she'd known him long enough to see a glint of horror reflected in his gaze. He held up his hand peacefully.
"Woah. There are no monsters here. Are you one of the adventurers from E-Rantel too? Those wounds you have look vicious. Maybe we could get you to the Magician's Guild and get you checked?"
At the word "magician", the man stumbled like he'd been stabbed. "Mages! The mages tried to heal my eyes! Magic just made it worse! Nobody can help me! Nothing can touch me! Every city failed me, I can't-I won't-"
"Easy, easy! Nobody will hurt you. You've been cursed? Cursed by who? Who did this to you?" Peter asked in a low tone like he was comforting a wild animal. "Work with us here. Take a deep breath and speak clearly."
The blue-haired man collapsed, hyperventilating. He held his face and whimpered. Sympathy rang in Ninya's heart, seeing this man who seemed so broken. Based on how disheveled he looked, he must have been on the move for a long time.
Against her better judgment, she slipped past Peter's arm and approached the man. She copied her leader's movement and held up both arms in surrender. Peter gawked at her, gesturing furiously for her to come back. When she refused, he hovered close behind her.
"What is your name?" Ninya asked, kneeling next to the man in the alleyway. The man did not say anything, simply shivering and muttering incoherently to herself. She waited patiently for the man to recollect his wits.
Finally, he said. "Brain. My name is Brain. To the other guy, the Weeping King did this to me. Damned undead! Never should've taken that job!"
Then he went back to mumbling. Ninya and Peter shared an understanding glance. So he had been an adventurer in E-Rantel. Maybe one of the ones left behind to defend the citizens. They weren't sure who this "Weeping King" was, but she assumed it was likely a powerful undead of some kind.
A part of her wished to extend a handout and help him. There was an entire story to be told by Brain. How he arrived in E-Rantel, how he held out against the undead force that ravaged him. Surely there was something she could do to help this man.
"Well, I do believe my eyes deceive me. I had thought better of you than to be skulking about in dirty alleyways like some ruffian, Young Ninya."
A familiar voice at the beginning of the alleyway caught her attention. Her head snapped up so fast from Brain that she almost thought she had broken her neck. Upon seeing the source of the voice, a huge smile erupted from her.
She hesitated to get up since she did not wish to leave Brain alone. Inevitably her legs ignored this wish and soon she was running into the arms of one of the most important men of her life. He hugged her with a familiar warmth, not caring that his expensive clothing was getting wrinkled.
He was exactly as she remembered. Somewhat tall and lanky. His white beard and mustache were neatly trimmed and his thick head of hair tamed into a comb-over. His light-brown eyes crinkled at the edges with crow's feet, displaying a mirth worthy of a man half his age. His clothes were prim, not a speck of dirt to be found anywhere.
"Ninya, would you stop running towards strangers?!" Peter said in exasperation. Brain stopped shivering long enough to also see who the newcomer was. His eyes widened.
"This isn't some stranger, Peter! This is my magic teacher! He's the one who taught me everything I know," she said, tightly embracing the elderly magician. He chuckled and ruffled her hair.
"I'd certainly hope not. It's been a few years now, hasn't it? It almost feels like a lifetime ago."
"Yeah, it does feel like it. I'm sorry I hadn't gone back to visit, but with my mission and joining up with the Swords of Darkness, I got too caught up in my world."
Peter's eyes bounced back and forth between the two of them. "I never considered where you learned to use magic properly from before. This man is the one who taught you before you joined up with us?"
Ninya looked back at him with a sparkle in his eye! "Of course! He's probably one of the sole reasons I found the confidence to embark on my journey. I just never thought to see him here of all places. I thought you hated the city, Master?"
"Oh, I wouldn't say I hate it. I just dislike how cramped it can be. But that's beside the point. I don't believe I've properly introduced myself to your friend."
Ninya reluctantly let go of her teacher, who strangely smelled of ginger and lilies. The older man placed a hand over his heart and bowed at the waist.
"Peter, was it? It is a pleasure to meet the one who has been taking care of my student in my absence. My full name is Raksus Obek Forone, but you may call me Raksus."