Chapter 75: Convoy
"It's been a long time, Mr. Holmes," Franco said, bowing with practiced respect.
"It has," Raven replied, giving a small nod and dismissing his status screen. "Sit."
Franco lowered himself onto the sofa opposite him and produced several documents from his spatial ring, placing them on the table.
"These are the findings collected so far. We've been tracking Inspector Bennett's movements for six years. Every two weeks, he travels to a small village called Humming Villa, near the Azmar ruins. To meet someone."
Raven raised an eyebrow. "And did you find out who?"
"We sent informants," Franco said grimly. "None returned. Either captured or killed. When we reported to the police, they brushed it aside."
"Because of Bennett?" Raven asked.
"Yes. When we dug deeper, we found something disturbing." Franco leaned forward. "Inspector Bennett's entire identity—fabricated. Birthplace, family, past—fake. He simply appeared in Giaris ten years ago. And within a short time, became Inspector of RA-02 Station."
Raven smiled faintly.
"Forget digging into Bennett. Look into the Duskbane Family of the Viser Kingdom. That's where his real history lies."
Franco stiffened slightly, then nodded.
Raven waved lazily. "Now—what about Crest Merchandise? Why are they acting so boldly?"
Franco retrieved another folder. "Because Crest Merchandise is a branch of the Sparrow Merchant Guild."
Jacob inhaled sharply. "Sparrow? They're one of the top five merchant guilds in the Empire."
"Why target the Holmes House?" Quincy asked.
"We don't know yet," Franco replied. "But we sent scouts to Azmar's outskirts. Over fifty people are stationed there. They've been guarding the area for years."
"They've held Azmar for over a decade?" Quincy muttered. "For what?"
"We'll know soon," Franco said with a thin smile.
Raven noted that Selene had told no one about the Stone Tablet or Bennett's true connection. Good.
"You're joining us, then?" Raven asked.
Franco shrugged. "Originally, I planned to step back after handing you the intel. But after sensing the strength of the Sepoy Mercenaries… I changed my mind."
"Oh? You can sense their power?" Raven asked, checking Franco's status again.
Peak Radiant Rank. But the man's affinities were unusually high.
Elizabeth said mainlanders had low affinities… so why is he so strong?
Franco continued, "Seven years ago, I could clearly sense Jacob and Marcellus. Now… nothing. It's like they've become ordinary mortals."
His eyes flicked toward Selene.
"And Lady Selene… I can't sense her at all. She's both there and not there."
Raven didn't respond.
Selene had been comprehending Spectral Body, a spell that blurred existence itself. She existed half in the world, half out of it.
No wonder Franco couldn't sense her.
He's joining not out of loyalty… but curiosity, Raven thought.
[Good. Bring him. Let him witness your rise—and spread the news. Yesterday's banquet stirred the nobles. They'll watch everything you do.] Zera murmured.
Raven sighed inwardly.
The reporters will probably follow too…
And as if summoned by his thoughts, Florence Collins approached with her notebook.
"Mr. Holmes," she said confidently, "can we join the convoy as well? We won't hinder your mission."
"You can join," Raven replied, "but your safety isn't guaranteed."
Some reporters exchanged uneasy looks.
Florence didn't flinch. "It's worth the risk."
Brave girl, Raven thought. Or reckless.
He turned to Franco. "Anything else about Holmes Family? Why so many groups targeted us?"
Franco shook his head. "Nothing concrete."
"Then let's show these documents to the reporters," Raven said.
He handed the compiled evidence to the journalists, allowing photocopies to be taken.
"The originals go to the local magistrate," Raven ordered. "I expect you all to report the truth—and seek justice for the Holmes House."
He glanced around. "Where is Stephanie?"
"Here, my lord!" Stephanie hurried in from the corridor and bowed.
"We'll be away for a few days. Handle the mansion while we're gone."
"Yes, my lord."
Raven then handed Selene a dozen spellbooks. "These are for you. Stay here and accompany Lady Anastasia and Young Master Daley. A chance encounter may help your growth."
Selene blinked—surprised—but bowed. "Understood, my lord."
Raven moved toward the entrance, Jacob and the others following.
Outside, twenty young men and women had assembled. Horses snorted, wagons creaked, and the cold morning air buzzed with energy.
A Clarence carriage stood ready, along with two stagecoaches and five supply wagons.
Raven noticed unfamiliar faces in one stagecoach.
"They're from the Lucas Company, my lord," Jacob explained. "Architect, engineers, surveyor, carpenter, foreman, and site manager."
"Good."
He activated his monocle, examining his elite team.
Thirteen Radiant Walkers… and several at intermediate level.
Franco stared, stunned. "So many…?"
His breath hitched when a blonde girl with amber eyes glanced his way.
Dangerous.
Her presence felt like a spear touching his throat.
Jacob mounted his horse and shouted, "Mount!"
Thirteen riders leaped into motion, sprinting toward the stables and returning with horses in seconds. Seven remained motionless.
"Why aren't they mounting?" Raven asked.
Selene sighed. "Wizards don't ride horses, my lord. It's an unspoken rule. They prefer carriages."
Raven's expression darkened.
"Ridiculous. On a battlefield, will they bring a carriage and a coachman? I want War Wizards, not pampered peacekeepers."
He pointed at the carriage.
"They can ride for now. But once Azmar matters are settled, they'll learn horseback combat and spellcasting."
"Yes, my lord," Selene replied immediately.
Raven turned to Jacob. "Can we acquire Mutant War Horses?"
"Not easily, my lord," Jacob replied. "Outside the military, only the Twelve Ancient Families breed them. Their strength and stamina are unmatched—so each one costs ten to twenty thousand gold coins."
"Money isn't a concern." Raven's gaze swept over the convoy. "Normal horses are fine for scouting. But if we ever face a battlefield, we'll need Mutant War Horses. Try to buy twenty."
"Yes, my lord."
Raven faced his young mounted knights. "Ready to depart?"
"Yes, my lord!" their voices boomed across the yard.
Then he looked at the seven robed figures—black cloaks, hoods low, like something pulled straight out of an old wizarding tale.
"Next time," Raven said, "disguise yourselves as knights. Robes draw attention—and arrows."
Images of Runeth bleeding out on a battlefield flickered through his mind.
Jacob stepped forward. "You don't need to worry, my lord. These seven are peak Acolytes, and Rebecca is already Radiant Rank. With real combat experience, they'll become our sharpest weapons."
"Except Rebecca," Raven muttered, "the others barely meet the academy standards of Crow's Misery."
He entered the black Clarence carriage. "Mr. Franco, Marcellus, Rebecca—come with me."
"Yes, my lord," they replied and climbed in behind him.
The Sepoy Mercenaries headed toward the carriage house. The Acolyte Wizards entered the second stagecoach.
Soon, only Selene, Stephanie, the reporters, and a handful of servants remained to watch the convoy depart.
Hooves struck stone. Carriages groaned into motion.
Three carriages, five wagons, twenty armored riders—rolling out of Bristol Street beneath the rising sun.
The golden morning bled across Salford's rooftops before giving way to open dirt roads and sweeping countryside.
…
Old Willow Village – Morning
The convoy halted in a small village framed by wheat fields and apple orchards. Barely three hundred residents lived here, overshadowed by an ancient willow tree with branches like grey-green waterfalls.
While the knights ate breakfast near a tavern, Raven's eyes were drawn to an old man sitting alone by a well.
The man cradled a headless stuffed doll, whispering to it like a lover.
"Olivia… my dear Olivia… I'm sorry I ran. I was scared… You must understand…"
Raven approached, hands folded behind his back.
"Who are you talking to, old man?"
The man shot him an irritated look. "Who else? My wife." Then he turned back to the doll, stroking its ragged cloth hair.
"What's your name?"
"Mason," he said flatly. "Yours?"
"Thomas Holmes."
Mason snorted. "Don't joke, boy. That family died long ago."
Raven let out a small, amused breath.
Patiently, he continued questioning him.
Most answers made no sense—nonsense about coming from "death," about demons stealing his children.
But when Raven brought up Azmar Town, Mason's jittery muttering shifted to fear.
"You—listen, boy." His hands trembled against the doll. "Don't go there. Humming Villa belongs to that demon now. My sons… gone. People vanish. The dead… they walk."
When he finished rambling, he wandered off, laughing into his doll's fabric ear.
Madness… or trauma?
Raven didn't comment.
The convoy moved on.
…
Their next destination was Brighthorn Hamlet.
It was Noon when the convoy reached the village.
Brighthorn was livelier—stalls selling dried meat, honey jars, and handwoven goods. While the others rested, Raven slipped into the small village archive.
Dusty shelves. Old maps. Forgotten notes.
He found one useful detail:
Humming Villa — cemetery at the eastern outskirts.
Avoid due to unexplained deaths.
"Strange deaths… near a cemetery," Raven murmured. Worth checking after capturing Azmar.
…
Their next destination was the Hollow Brook – Afternoon
A riverside village known for its fisheries. Hooves drank from the river's edge, and the knights refilled waterskins.
Then the convoy continued toward the silent edges and soon arrived at Humming Villa around evening.
As the sun set, the convoy entered Humming Villa.
The village looked… hollow.
Houses intact, but lifeless.
Windows shuttered. Curtains trembling. Pale faces watching from behind glass—vanishing the moment Raven glanced their way.
They stopped at Blackwood Inn, a weathered two-story building.
The innkeeper, a sharp-eyed old woman, greeted them carefully. "We don't see travelers these days," she said while leading them upstairs.
"Why so deserted?" Raven asked.
"This is the eastern edge of the Empire," she sighed. "After Azmar fell, fear spread. Most villagers fled."
"And those who stayed?" Raven studied her expression.
She hesitated. "A convoy full of knights isn't a normal sight. You look like a noble lad. And I've seen your kind before."
"My kind?"
"Those searching for something in the ruins," she said bitterly. "Like the hooded men. Our chief confronted them once… and paid with everything."
"What did he lose?" Raven asked quietly.
Her jaw tightened. "His entire family. Murdered before his eyes. After that, he went mad and ran into the woods. Then people started disappearing. Others fled out of fear."
Village chief… missing. Another connection.
"Tell me more about these hooded men," Raven pressed.
Her eyes sharpened. "I still wish to live. Stay a day or two, boy. Then leave. You're poking the wrong nest."
Raven took the keys from her hand. "It's the other way around. They poked mine."
He took a small upper chamber. The others gathered in the common rooms.
…
Night – Gathering Whispers
Villagers were reluctant, but alcohol loosened at least one tongue.
A drunk man clutched a rum bottle, eyes unfocused.
"You wanna know why we stay inside at night, kid?" he slurred.
Raven remained patient.
"There was this man… handlebar mustache… saw him with my own eyes…"
His voice shook.
"Snapped… her neck…"
"Whose?" Raven asked.
"Mason's wife. Olivia. And the children. Then…" His breath hitched. "Then he made them stand back up. No life. Just… dolls. They walked behind him like puppets."
Raven's brows lowered. "Necromancy?"
The man downed the rest of the rum and hurled the bottle. "Demon! No living man can do that!"
Raven questioned him further but got nothing else.
Morning light crept across the horizon by the time the convoy departed again.