Meanwhile, Cale had to deal with Raon’s questions as he flew back into Terrace 4.
‹Human, why did you pretend not to notice that he used a magic device to disguise himself? That kind of magic device is hard to acquire! It’s valuable!›
Cale merely grinned, peeling off his mask.
“Welcome back,” Bilose said, smiling as he closed the curtains. “Did you resolve things to your satisfaction?”
“That I did,” Cale replied, nodding.
‹I’m curious, human! Why’d you act like you didn’t know? And even though the bishop pretended to be scared, his eyes didn’t waver at all, just like you said!›
Disregarding Raon’s ramblings, Cale thought back to what Saint Jack had told him. Jack had described the bishop’s appearance—not the look of the old bishop but of the one who’d taken his place.
“Karo’s bishop is a skinny woman in her thirties with a sharp stare. That’s what she really looks like.”
Cale chuckled. “This really is scary.” Absorbing this reminder that a fantasy world was truly fearsome, Cale suddenly got chills. Hmm?
“Here, young master.” It was Ron, handing him some lemonade. Cale looked into Ron’s eyes, a few more shivers prickling his spine.
At the same time, Raon chimed in, ‹By the way, human, are you done with the busy errands?›
Just about.
When Cale nodded, the dragon continued, ‹I’ve been ignoring the crown prince’s calls ever since you told me to.›
Cale felt a sense of foreboding. Hmm? He really ignored them? He’d never expected that Raon would actually reject Albert’s calls. He’d had no idea Raon took everything he said so seriously.
While Cale felt as if the room’s temperature was plunging into the single digits, Raon chattered away in blissful ignorance. ‹He’s been trying to reach you ever since you started talking with the bishop! This is his tenth call.›
Wait, what? Crown Prince Albert had called ten times? That busy man?
‹He left you a voicemail. I’ll let you hear it.›
Cale clenched the cup of lemonade as the crown prince’s voice resonated in his mind. ‹The northern alliance is starting to move.›
What? Why? He thought he might’ve misheard. Faern was taking action? It was only February—the waters hadn’t even thawed yet.
“Son of a bitch.”
He chugged the lemonade in a single gulp. The sour taste brought a frown to his face.
Bilose gaped at him in surprise. “Wh-what’s wrong, my lord?”
Cale chucked the bishop’s coin pouch at Bilose. When the confused merchant caught it, Cale gave him an order. “Buy the Wolf King’s remains.”
“Sorry…?”
“There’s ten billion in there, so make it happen.”
“Excuse me? T-ten billion?!”
Having sent Bilose into a state of shock, Cale continued, “Ron and I are leaving now. Ron, lead the way.”
The elderly assassin took the lead as asked, despite the fact that he was attending the auction as Bilose’s servant. Cale then winked out of sight, preparing to set out for the inn.
‹You’ve got another voicemail, human,› Raon said as Cale speedwalked toward the inn. ‹Why don’t you pick up his calls? Seems like he’s got something to discuss with you.›
Cale’s brow furrowed again. Why does the crown prince need to talk to a degenerate noble like me? Annoyance surged within him. His back was clammy, a sour taste plagued his tongue, and unexpected events were taking place.
I’m going to lose my mind.