Chapter 293 – Encounter (1)
A gray stone passage stretched out in a straight line.
At fixed intervals, magic stone lamps embedded in the ceiling illuminated the interior. The atmosphere, a mixture of shadow and yellow light, was both gloomy and antique.
Judging from the dust-laden torch brackets on the walls and other traces, the underground of Wells Town had been built a very long time ago.
At least well over a hundred years.
The escort carriage came to a halt, and the sound of footsteps drew near.
At the same time, he withdrew the magic power he had spread while restoring the function of the magic circle.
Creak.
"We've arrived..."
Without a word, he stepped outside.
The carriage vanished as if its role had ended.
Happen cast a brief glance at Verden, then opened the iron door beside him.
A silent gesture to enter. Verden moved forward without a word. The door closed behind him, and soon a rather spacious area unfolded before his eyes.
A dark, oppressive atmosphere.
Straight ahead, a long dining table lay horizontally. Upon it sat a candelabrum with flickering candles, and a meal portioned for one.
Lifting his head slightly, his gaze shifted.
At the far end of the table, slouched in a large chair, sat a man.
Leaning against the armrest beside him was a massive mace the size of a man, and bowls that once likely held fruit were scattered across the floor.
A large build. A scar across his neck. The distinctive features.
"So that man is Kendras."
An enemy force of the Bohemirn Magic Tower.
One of the leaders said to command them.
"You must be that Asher, the one who threatened Jerik to come here. Your face is more peculiar than I expected. Well, whatever. Was the trip here troublesome?"
"The procedures were quite tedious."
Verden replied curtly.
Kendras smirked, unconcerned with tone.
"Well, if you're suddenly locked up in a stifling escort carriage, you wouldn't exactly be in a good mood. If they just dumped you into the water, you'd be drowned alive. If they threw you into fire, you'd become roasted meat. Still, don't take it too personally. Not just you—everyone operating outside, whether members of our forces or outsiders, travels this way. It's the only method to avoid prying eyes."
He shrugged his shoulders, layered with muscle and fat.
"Inconvenient, yes. But highly effective. Not once have we been discovered. Even the residents of Wells Town have no idea what lies beneath their feet. Hah. What would a bunch of worthless peasants know, anyway? Still, only this level of precaution ensures true concealment, don't you think?"
Kendras gestured casually.
Meaning to sit wherever. Verden lowered himself into the chair at the front of the table.
The two now faced each other, one looking down, the other looking up.
"I don't like this."
But he showed no sign of it.
Conversation took precedence over magic or violence. The purpose of coming here was to assess the opponent and make judgments accordingly.
Then Kendras spoke.
"Well, introductions are out of the way. Let's get to the point. What brings you to me?"
"I came..."
"Oh, don't say it's for a Faver supply. Though the amount of Faver you managed to gather is certainly surprising and intriguing, I know you didn't come all this way just to trade."
Kendras leaned forward.
"Isn't that right, Ruler of Roafra?"
***
Meanwhile, near Wells Town.
Three figures emerged, clad in cloaks that absorbed light.
As they revealed their faces under a magic stone lamp fixed to a withered tree, a dark-colored escort carriage quietly approached after a short wait.
The same type that had carried Verden.
Rixon, who oversaw the security of the underground entrance to Wells Town, approached.
"As far as I know, today isn't a scheduled report day. What's the matter, Hemil?"
Hemil was Kendras's messenger.
His main duty was to relay communications between the lord of the Midros autonomous territory and Kendras.
He gave a small bow.
"My apologies, Sir Rixon. I came because there is something urgent to convey to Lord Kendras."
"Something urgent?"
"The mages of the Magic Tower have been assassinated."
Rixon's eyes widened.
"...What?"
"Ezra and Molly, dispatched from the Magic Tower on the Volcanic Island and from the Larrian Magic Tower, along with each tower's branch managers and aides, were all killed. Moreover, a great fire broke out in the city's slums. Here is a letter from the autonomous lord."
The letter was snatched away.
The words filled more than half the page. The handwriting unmistakably belonged to the autonomous lord, with the coded mark they had agreed upon written at the end.
There was no doubt—it was authentic.
"The Magic Tower was suddenly attacked... Could it be the Bohemirn Magic Tower?"
No one else would so openly slaughter members of the Magic Tower. They had both the motive and the audacity.
It was, after all, the other towers that had first moved to eliminate Bohemirn's influence.
And yet, wasn't the war with the Black Hour still raging?
Did they truly have the luxury to spare attention for the far-off Midros territory? Or had they already recovered enough strength?
"This is no trivial matter."
The hand of retaliation could reach here as well.
He had to immediately report to Kendras, Sedwordy, and Palin, the leaders of the force, and formulate a proper countermeasure.
If he wanted to live.
"This will ruin the ongoing banquet.... Quickly, get on the carriage."
He boarded Hemil and the other two.
Once seated, Rixon cracked the reins. The horses made not even the faintest sound as they crossed the empty streets.
The tranquil night of Wells Town.
When the peasant-majority residents retired to bed not long after supper, the ones hiding underground emerged silently to rule the streets.
The escort carriages to the underground entrance only moved at that time. For the sake of strict security.
Even Kendras's messenger could not be exempt from such procedures.
Because of this, none of those who operated outside knew the location of the entrance underground.
In time, they reached their destination.
Inside a nondescript building, Hemil's group disembarked.
Rixon opened the underground entrance.
"Lord Sedwordy and Lord Palin are in the banquet hall. Go to them and report immediately."
"Understood. And Lord Kendras...?"
"He is at his quarters with a guest. I'll report to him personally. You wait."
At this, Hemil stroked his chin.
"So, two of them in one place, and one elsewhere.... In other words, all three are down here, aren't they?"
"Well, of course..."
Rixon flinched and cut himself off.
The voice and tone—completely different from the Hemil he knew. Turning, he saw the three figures grinning bizarrely.
"You... who are you?"
"I am Aldamia, leader of Aldamia's Clowns. A pleasure to meet you."
And then.
"Farewell."
Boom!
The ceiling collapsed, and shadows surged down.
A vertical beam of light pierced straight through Rixon's crown. Crack! His body split in half, spilling entrails and blood.
Immediately after, a storm of blades swept through the air.
The delayed sound of muscle and bone being severed brushed past his ears. The escort unit Rixon commanded, along with the guards at the underground entrance, fell with their necks half-severed.
"Grrrk... kkhh..."
The sound of phlegm-rattling throats, faint groans, and the moment of death.
Amid the pile of corpses, the swordsman Adrian flicked his arm. The grease and blood on his rusty blade fell away cleanly.
Aldamia and the two other Clowns scratched their necks.
The false skins covering their faces caught on their fingertips. They tore off the face-skins they had been wearing—those of Hemil and his men—and tossed them aside.
"Hm. The makeup's smudged a little, but it doesn't look too bad."
Aldamia pulled out a hand mirror and examined his skin.
"Well now, even if they were fooled by my acting, this is absurd. In such a short time, you not only killed every watcher but cut them down before anyone could react! Tsk, tsk... makes me more and more curious what kind of face lies behind that mask. Don't you all feel the same?"
"C-couldn't we maybe peel it off, just a little?"
"I'm curious too."
Their desperate stares drew no reaction from Adrian.
Instead, he gazed coldly down the darkened underground passage and asked:
"Kendras, Sedwordy, Palin. They're below, aren't they?"
"So I heard. Two are enjoying a banquet underground, and the other is headed there shortly. It seems almost the entirety of their force is attending the feast."
The command inscribed into the coercion magic circle—Coercion.
The autonomous lord had died at Aldamia's hands.
The leadership of the Larrian Magic Tower and the Magic Tower of the Volcanic Island had been massacred.
Now, only the conclusion remained.
"With this, our job for the Bohemirn Magic Tower is done! Time to collect the rest of our payment! If you'd show me that face, maybe I'd even knock off a little from the price───"
Just then, a single line carved a crescent arc.
For a moment, silence. Then, beyond their skin, a blood-line appeared, oozing crimson.
"...Uh."
Shhhhhhkk!
The air turned red as three wide-eyed heads were sent flying. Aldamia's gaze, suspended midair, slowly tilted.
In his dimming eyes lingered the question, "Why?"
So Adrian answered.
"Aldamia's Clowns. No further use."
The Clowns had merely been a tool to track the Bohemirn Magic Tower's enemies. He had never intended to let them live. That was the judgment Adrian rendered, based on the command echoing within him.
Step. Step.
He shut the entrance behind him and walked deeper into Wells Town's underground.
There was no need to find out where the banquet hall was.
Everyone down here was going to die anyway.
He stretched his heightened senses to their maximum.
A perception unlike mana detection—different in nature and far sharper—gradually picked up the raw reactions of living beings.
The underground banquet hall.
Adrian sprinted down the passage toward it.
***
Verden fixed his gaze on Kendras's face.
Being unmasked had been among his expected outcomes.
He hadn't bothered to hide his looks or name, and he had openly admitted coming from Roafra. Given those clues, anyone with sufficient information could have pieced it together.
"And yet, he agreed to meet alone."
That, too, was only natural.
Men backed by a Magic Tower would hardly be cowed by a mere name like Roafra.
And once the matter of an incredibly rare Faver supply was raised, it couldn't simply be dismissed.
This situation—this meeting—was exactly what Verden had intended.
"So. A group allied with a Magic Tower has made its base in quite the barren place."
He openly mentioned the Magic Tower.
At that, Kendras let out a low chuckle.
"The underground of Wells Town was built centuries ago. A vast granary, and a refuge for people in times of crisis. But as time passed, it faded from memory. We took it over and made it our own."
Though not suited for living, they had fashioned it into a decent haven through magic and magic items. With aid from the Magic Tower of the Volcanic Island and the Larrian Magic Tower.
"Even a lower-ranked tower still has the skill to impress. But since you're mentioning Magic Towers... just how much do you know?"
"Bohemirn Magic Tower. Does that answer?"
"My, you know quite a lot. It can't be that there was a leak from our side or the other towers... perhaps that fool of an autonomous lord blundered? Well, whatever."
Clap! Kendras clapped his hands, changing the mood.
"If the king of the underworld himself has come here, then it's clear you're no pawn of the Bohemirn Magic Tower. Otherwise, you'd have long abandoned Midros and made Roafra your power base. So tell me—what is your real purpose?"
The first question returned once more.
"From what I've found, you and the Bohemirn Magic Tower go back a long way, Kendras."
The Followers of the Three Eyes, who once operated in the Central Continent.
They'd made their name notorious—but the Bohemirn Magic Tower crushed them.
The leader was slain, the remnants exterminated. Kendras, the personal guard captain of the group, barely escaped with a handful of men to the Eastern Continent.
And now, he had allied with other Magic Towers to oppose Bohemirn.
Exploiting the war with the Black Hour, he spearheaded the purge of Bohemirn's influence in the territory.
Kendras may not lead the entire faction, but he was undeniably one of its heads.
Which meant—
"So. Is this about revenge on the Bohemirn Magic Tower?"
It was a probing yet essential question.
Depending on the answer, Verden's judgment and stance would shift.
"Revenge...?"
For a moment, silence.
In that quiet, Kendras's mouth slowly opened.
Pfft. A breath of laughter slipped out.
A sound that pressed against the ears—half incredulity, half derision.
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