Later that night, Hong sat in Cale’s arms, peering down at the rooftop below. Cale petted Hong’s fur, which was soft after receiving Cale’s—well, mostly Hans’s—thorough care.
“My, Sinten’s guildmaster does seem to be in a rush, doesn’t he, Bilose?”
“Y-yes, sir,” Bilose blurted out, then shuddered. He followed Cale’s gaze to the roof beneath them.
Bilose was sitting down while hanging from a rope; Cale, on the other hand, stood at ease atop the roof with the Sound of the Wind gathered at his feet.
Lord Cale has been hiding his strength.
The shield wasn’t the only Ancient Power this young lordling possessed. A normal person would find it challenging, even scary, to stand at the roof’s peak; Bilose himself had needed Hans to carry him up here.
I didn’t know enough about him.
Cale Henituse, the lout of the count’s family. Bilose reflected on the man’s past. He already knew Cale had only pretended to be a degenerate, but at this moment, the truth of the matter overwhelmed him.
That’s right… How would he know so much about the Western Continent if he was really just a lout?
Cale commanded a wealth of knowledge about the Western Continent’s various countries, its famous locales, and its notable people. For someone from a remote corner of Rowoon, learning all of this information would have required extensive study.
He must’ve studied in secret.
Bilose assumed Cale had gathered these powers during that time as well. In fact, he thought Cale a better man, considering Bilose himself had gathered his strength while living as a bastard son.
What is he looking down at?
Putting the potential profits aside, Bilose tried to get a sense of Cale as a fellow human being. Cale’s actions over the past two years had told him something. He found himself thinking that the moment a man who’d hidden his abilities began to reveal his true power, the world was bound to change.
Bilose clenched the rope he was hanging on to and turned toward Cale’s target: the residence where Plavin Sinten was staying. An eerie mist surrounded the building.
And it wasn’t just his own strength he was hiding.
While it was a known fact Cale traveled with cats, Bilose had never imagined they could control mist.
I didn’t realize he had so many experts around him either, not to mention such a stealthy information guild.
The masked members of the information guild were flitting about on Cale’s orders at that very moment. As a merchant, Bilose had his own sources, but he’d never encountered such discreet informants before.
They approached Sinten’s guildmaster without attracting attention. That means they have someone on par with top-tier assassins.
Not that Bilose had a clue who that person could be. Had he known that the assassin in question was Ron—the same man who’d served him honey lemon tea only yesterday—Bilose would have been blown away.
Yet there was someone who would’ve been even more astounded by that than Bilose: Plavin Sinten, the owner of the residence Cale had his eye on, the same man responsible for elevating the Sinten Merchant Guild to its present glory. He dreamed of running the top merchant guild in the Mogor Empire, then on the entire Western Continent.
At present, he was tapping his wooden chalice of wine against the table, his features arranged in a frown. “How did they know?”
Even the persistent noise of the chalice clacking on the table couldn’t disturb his thoughts. That damn Fire Crystal!
Some time ago, he had given the Fire Crystal to the pope. Unable to decide whether to forge a connection with the Mogor Empire’s leadership or with the pope, he’d opted to tie himself to both sides.
The pope pretended to be a virtuous man, but in truth, he was utterly materialistic. By presenting the Fire Crystal to the pope as an offering, Plavin had established a close relationship with the Church of the God of Sun—without the Empire’s knowledge, of course.
I didn’t expect it to put me in such a rut!
Plavin Sinten’s gaze drifted toward a corner of the table, settling on an unfurled invitation.
The Fire Crystal will appear at the next auction. If you wish to see it first, please come to this location at the designated time.
“Crazy bastard. Just wait until I get my hands on you.”
Plavin ground his teeth in fury. This invitation had forced him to come to the auction in Karo despite his packed schedule. Furthermore, to prevent the Empire from getting wind of this information, he couldn’t bring many people with him—not even the personal assassins’ guild he’d been cultivating.
The imperial prince has eyes everywhere. I can’t risk my guild showing up here.
Imperial Prince Adin had been keeping all clandestine organizations under a close watch ever since the attempted murder of Vice-Master Metelona and the damaging attack on the Sun Palace. Under the circumstances, Plavin hadn’t dared to attempt something as dangerous as crossing the border with his entire assassins’ guild in tow. He couldn’t reveal his full arsenal just yet.
But there’s no reason I should be in any danger, right?
For his guards, he’d brought along the assassins’ guild’s second-in-command and two highly skilled swordsmen. Provided no aura-wielding swordmaster came to call, his safety was all but assured.
The rhythmic tapping of the chalice continued.
First, I need to capture the crazy bastard who sent the invitation and take the Fire Crystal from them, if they really do have it.
He couldn’t leave such a weakness out in the open.
Tap, tap, tap.
Clang!
“Hmm?”
Hearing an unexpected noise, Plavin set down his chalice.
Clang!
It happened again. Something had collided with his window. Plavin turned around to face the window, where the curtains were half drawn. Only then did he notice the unusual phenomenon.
“Mist…?”
The thick mist caught Plavin’s attention. Karo had an arid climate, and it wasn’t raining. His palms began to sweat. The mist was red—that couldn’t be normal.
Creak. The door opened.
“Boss?”
It was the assassins’ guild’s second-in-command.
“Go check it out.”
At Plavin’s order, the assassin made a beeline for the window. As the swordsmen rushed to surround Plavin, he grabbed an antidote and an item enchanted with shielding magic.
Clang!
The pounding on the window reached his ears once more. His swordsmen gripped their blades while the assassin, dagger in hand, yanked open the curtains in one swift motion.
Shhhkt.
The curtain opened, but there was nothing there. Plavin loosed a groan.
Just then, the assassin discovered an item on the empty terrace: a small invitation. It wasn’t the cause of the sound they’d heard, so the source of that was still a mystery. The assassin promptly handed the invitation to Plavin, who opened it, only to find a short message: R-3. It was a seat number for the VIP auction.
Seething, Plavin glared at the assassin and the swordsmen. “What were you useless wastes of space doing?”
He was seconds from flying into a rage. When the mist had encroached on the house, and someone had infiltrated the grounds, his guards had done nothing.
“I apologize, sir,” one swordsman said. “I was out on patrol, as we discussed. I ran over as soon as I saw the mist, but I didn’t sense anyone’s presence.”
His response made Plavin stiffen. They had gone over how to guard him prior to leaving for Karo, and Plavin had verified the plan himself—hence his anger at what he perceived as their slacking off. But laziness had nothing to do with it.
The assassin quietly gave his own report. “Sir…I didn’t detect any intruders whatsoever. The only things I noticed were the mist and that sound against the window.”
Plavin finally grasped the severity of the situation. The person responsible must have been a master infiltrator if the assassins’ second-in-command and two highly skilled swordsmen failed to perceive them. That same person had left this invitation just for him.
He swallowed nervously. Goosebumps prickled all over his body as he stared at the seat number listed on the invitation. Now he had another reason to attend the first day of the VIP auction: fear.
✦ ✦ ✦
“I’ve returned, young master,” Ron reported, his voice muffled by the mask he wore.
Cale peeled his gaze away from the residence. “Then let’s be off.”
When the red mist receded, the grounds went quiet once more. Cale hoped that the Sinten guildmaster sitting in that silence thoroughly understood his situation.
He set out for the Golden Tree the next morning, carrying a newly purchased magic bag. Naturally, the bag was empty—ready to be filled with thirty billion counds.