novelraw Chapter 10
Chapter 10
Chapter 10. Artisans’ Association
“Sis, us coming out like this… is it really okay?”
Dean wore an exquisite formal outfit that made him extremely uncomfortable. He walked stiffly behind Caitlin, occasionally tugging at the straight collar.
“Relax, little Dean.”
Caitlin gracefully adjusted her wide-brimmed hat inlaid with moonstones. Although she wore the magic bracelet her brother had given her, she still was not used to sunlight shining directly on her face.
“Compared to those nights when demons and monsters are active, Coral Thorn City during the day is actually safer for us.”
“You still have much to learn. I don’t want you, after becoming a Paladin, to behave exactly like one. Upholding justice isn’t achieved through blind asceticism and stubborn persistence alone!”
She and Kyle were considered, among the new generation of their family… perhaps even among several previous generations, the most rebellious pair.
One was obsessed with a rural town, wanting only to live her own life. The other had run off to a chaotic metropolis filled with powerful figures, constantly plotting to found a nation and proclaim himself king. The elders were so furious their fangs trembled.
Their family upheld a principle of seclusion to avoid unnecessary trouble. Though not weak, they could not withstand the sheer number of enemies drawn by the vampire identity.
As for her own mediocre talent, it was not worth mentioning. Kyle’s departure, however, had truly made the elders’ corpses warm with anger.
Fortunately, Kyle had only gone out to make his own way rather than truly defecting. With sufficient strength to protect himself, he had reassured the family.
Caitlin led Dean into a streamlined alchemical puppet carriage. It slowly departed the villa and traveled along a clean, level road toward the wealthy commercial district, attracting quite a few glances from passersby.
“Remember the basic etiquette I just taught you. Don’t be stiff. Right now, your status is that of an honored guest of the Silver Moon Chamber of Commerce. If you can’t even control your mindset, you’ll only become a puppet for others to manipulate…”
Dean listened patiently to each of Caitlin’s instructions, striving to adjust his posture and expression.
“Newspapers! Newspapers! Major news today! Renowned master craftsman Adrian was assassinated at home last night! The Artisans’ Association has announced a citywide strike starting today, demanding the Duke’s Mansion investigate the truth!”
“Papers for sale! Official release from the Silver Moon Chamber of Commerce! The Pandaren caravan enters the city today! Rare treasures preview!…”
Children and youths wearing vests emblazoned with the Silver Moon Chamber of Commerce emblem darted through the bustling streets, shouting their headlines.
“Tch, it’s just a craftsman dying. Making such a fuss, even going on strike?”
By the roadside, a young nobleman dressed in a silk coat trimmed with gold patterns shook the newspaper he had just bought and sneered disdainfully at his companion.
“Just a bunch of lowly commoners who don’t know their place! Do they really think that by banding together they can stand on equal footing with us true lords? Wishful thinking!” He deliberately raised his voice, as if wanting everyone around to hear.
“If you ask me, those big figures are too kind, giving these mud-legged peasants unrealistic fantasies…”
A plumper companion beside him blanched and hurriedly covered his mouth. “Are you crazy? Are the attitudes of those big figures something you can casually comment on?” He glanced around nervously.
“Mmph—mmph—”
Yanking away his friend’s chubby hand, the young man flushed red but stubbornly insisted, “Hmph! What’s there to panic about? Was I wrong? Th-they…” Yet he stammered and did not dare mention those big figures again.
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Dean and Caitlin each bought a newspaper as well. He had only ever seen a monthly gazette before, which only the town mayor could afford to subscribe to. Each month it would be delivered from a major city and nailed to the square for literate townsfolk to read aloud.
Looking at the densely packed information on this single sheet, Dean could hardly believe it cost only three copper coins.
“It’s truly lively here…” Caitlin browsed the headlines, shipping updates, curiosities, even department store discount ads and announcements of new performances. Even this ‘alternative’ found herself developing an interest in shopping.
Dean, meanwhile, quickly had his attention captured by the short stories and comics in the paper—novelties he had never seen before.
————
At the same time, in the northern part of the city, inside the heavy, austere stone hall of the Artisans’ Association headquarters, more than a dozen long tables were filled with people.
Most were plainly dressed craftsmen with calloused hands. A few were masters with steady auras, wearing professional emblems. At the head seat, President Mario, his hair graying and eye sockets sunken, seemed to have aged ten years overnight.
“How should Adrian’s death be handled? He cannot die so unclearly!” A white-bearded old blacksmith pounded the table angrily.
“Even if we call for a strike among members, can that really solve anything? Those greedy, disgusting parasites have always looked down on us!” Another middle-aged carpenter looked anxiously toward the president.
“Sigh, we’re just too weak. The strongest in our association is only a mid-stage Master-tier vice president. If we had a Grandmaster sitting in charge, we wouldn’t be bullied like this!” someone added bitterly, despair filling his voice.
“A Grandmaster? How difficult is that? That level means someone who has already carved out their own path. Why would such a figure join a small faction mainly composed of ordinary people? Not only lacking sufficient transcendent resources, but also having to toil tirelessly—who would take on such thankless work?”
Everyone fell silent.
The vice president had only agreed to join because he was a close friend of President Mario. Even then, he mostly interacted with masters within the Silver Moon Chamber of Commerce and rarely participated in association affairs.
In a corner, a gray-haired old woman trembled as she repeatedly caressed a small, exquisite amulet in her hand. Adrian had personally given it to her son when he completed his apprenticeship, and her son had passed it to her.
Now both her son and her son’s teacher had been murdered. Murky tears fell soundlessly onto the smooth surface of the amulet.
“Is there… truly no way at all, President?” she asked through choked sobs.
Mario felt immense pain as well. Adrian had been like a brother to him. Not yet fifty, already a high-stage Elite runic master, he had been on the verge of breaking into the Master tier. Yet he had been inexplicably killed.
Mario abruptly stood, pressing both hands heavily onto the table. “I will go to that intelligence merchant of the underground world. No matter the cost, I will drag out the mastermind behind Adrian’s murder! A blood debt must be repaid in blood!”
The hall fell into instant silence. Everyone stared at him in shock.
“President! You mustn’t!” someone immediately objected.
“That one’s intelligence fees are astronomical! Can we truly afford it? And that’s just the cost of information! And… what if the investigation reveals some great figure we simply cannot afford to offend… then wouldn’t it be…”
He dared not continue, but the implication was clear—utter catastrophe.
Their association was mainly composed of ordinary people responsible for maintaining the city’s essential goods production and waste processing—doing the hardest, dirtiest work for the lowest pay.
If they could avenge Master Adrian, that would be one thing. But if they failed and had to pay an enormous price, it would be disastrous for these laborers.
A cloud of despair once again enveloped the hall. Sobs could no longer be suppressed, rising from every corner—for the fallen hero, and for their own insignificance and helplessness.
Master Adrian had often supported struggling families within the association, offering help and encouragement, teaching ordinary members to read and learn. In the eyes of countless children, he had been a ‘great hero’!
Yet after such a respected elder was tragically killed, they did not even possess the ability to avenge him. The entire hall seemed plunged into lifeless silence.
“All expenses—I, Mario, will bear them alone!” Mario scanned the room, having made his decision.
“Even if it costs me this old life!”
The association he had founded with dozens of friends now had few left—some dead, some gone. Adrian, the one most likely to succeed him, was now murdered. If he did not make a choice now, then perhaps the association might as well disband!