novelraw Chapter 8
Chapter 8
Chapter 8. Commission
Zack had been woken early in the morning by the caretaker cleaning the orphanage. Without stopping for a moment, he rushed toward the port. After decades of an adventurer’s life, he still had quite a few connections.
Even before seeking out the intelligence merchant, he had already planned to set sail and salvage a shipwreck. So preparing the necessary equipment and a ship in a short time was not difficult.
Clutching his last three magic crystals and the team’s property deed, he went straight to an old friend—Old Owen. This long voyage would rely on Owen’s ship and navigation skills.
“Zack! Are you really going bankrupt for this?”
Old Owen stared at the magic crystals and deed Zack handed over. His rough fingers gripped the yellowed parchment tightly as he rasped, “You’ve even put up the headquarters of the Rock Adventurer Team? Do your brothers know about this?”
“Hahaha!” Zack threw an arm around Old Owen without a care, grinning proudly.
“Relax! I’ve got a hundred percent confidence I’ll get our capital back this time!” After all, he had two big shots backing him now. He was, at most, just the errand runner.
“So confident?” Old Owen narrowed his wrinkled face suspiciously at Zack.
“You latched onto some big thigh, didn’t you?”
Seeing Zack only grin foolishly with a smug expression, Old Owen understood immediately.
He kicked Zack squarely in the backside. “Spit it out! Something this big and you’re hiding it from me?!”
“Hehehe!”
Zack was in extremely good spirits. “What’s the rush? Help me get the equipment ready first. I’ll invite the big shot tonight! If all goes well, you’ll see him tomorrow!”
“Hey! Playing mysterious now?”
“Enough nonsense. Come on, come on—go check the gear with me. I don’t understand this stuff!”
Without further explanation, Zack dragged the cursing Old Owen straight into the noisy trade district of the port.
————
After spending half the night maintaining the longsword damaged in his battle with Kyle, O’Brien did not rest. Instead, he went straight outside the city for his daily training. It was one of the few ways he could quiet his mind.
Since becoming a Paladin, he had not expected that the easiest thing would be to swing his sword again and again.
On the vast lawn, each of O’Brien’s strikes was plain and unadorned. There were no whistling sword winds, no dazzling light. His movements were textbook perfect.
Only those at a sufficiently high realm could sense that with every swing, the blade condensed tremendous will and spiritual force.
Paladins often fought undead dark creatures and knew well how troublesome these monsters were.
No matter how severe the bodily injuries, as long as they had sufficient time and food, they would recover quickly. Worse still, beings like wraiths had no physical bodies at all.
Thus, to truly harm and completely kill them, the best method was to shatter their mind and extinguish their soul.
And sacred power, fused with faith and light, was precisely the greatest bane of such monsters!
······
About two kilometers from O’Brien, a luxurious carriage slowly came to a stop along the trade road.
“He’s in the clearing ahead in the forest, about three kilometers in. I’ll wait for your good news!” Kyle pointed toward a direction deep within the woods.
“Rest assured, leave the rest to me!”
Mills patted his chest in assurance. Then, with agility utterly inconsistent with his body size, he leapt down from the carriage and mounted a beast of burden built for forest travel—shaped like a gigantic pangolin. With several capable guards in tow, he advanced into the forest.
While Mills and his party were still trekking through the woods, O’Brien—swinging his sword on the grass with eyes closed—slightly furrowed his brow.
He did not open his eyes, but his powerful perception clearly captured the vibrations from the forest, the faint clinks of metal, and several unfamiliar presences.
Opening his gray-blue eyes, he glanced toward the direction from which Mills would soon appear, then refocused his spirit upon his sword.
About half a quarter of an hour later, Mills finally reached the clearing.
From afar, he saw the Paladin practicing his swordsmanship on the grass. He quickly dismounted from the beast of burden, gestured for his guards to remain where they were, and jogged forward in small steps toward O’Brien.
O’Brien slowly withdrew his stance. The longsword slid precisely into its scabbard. With faint confusion, he looked at this fat man who appeared to possess only the strength of a Formal knight.
Stopping five steps away, Mills performed a noble’s salute of the Crescent Empire.
“Respected Paladin, I apologize deeply for disturbing your cultivation. I am Mills·Horne, President of the Coral Thorn City branch of the Silver Moon Chamber of Commerce. I have come today at another’s request to discuss with you a matter concerning the inheritance of Paladins.”
“At another’s request?”
The familiar recipe, the familiar taste!
O’Brien reacted instantly, his gaze turning sharp. “Don’t tell me that vampire sent you to find me?”
The piercing look made Mills’ heart skip, yet he maintained a respectful and composed smile. The intelligence merchant had long told him of the conflicts and entanglements between himself and this Paladin over the past few months—he had devoured quite the gossip from it.
Instead of directly answering, Mills asked:
“Paladin, forgive my boldness, but in your view… what kind of city is Coral Thorn City today?”
O’Brien was taken aback. What did he mean?
His gray-blue eyes narrowed slightly as he examined the fat man before him.
“What exactly are you trying to say?”
Mills bowed slightly, his plump hand firmly pointing toward the highest tower of the city, clearly visible even dozens of kilometers away.
“My lord, surely you know that this city was established amid the entanglement of countless complex forces. It houses all kinds of people—and non-human beings. Yet despite such chaos, it has formed a stable environment and remains extraordinarily prosperous.”
“In truth, Coral Thorn City is a microcosm of our world. It lays bare all splendor and filth, order and chaos, greed and struggle, allowing us to clearly see right and wrong, good and evil.”
He paused, his voice taking on a merchant’s shrewd insight. “So, in your opinion, what does the intelligence merchant count as in this city? A destroyer of order, or a guardian in another form?”
“A guardian?!” O’Brien had not expected to hear such a title from a human. His expression darkened further.
“Yes—a guardian!” Mills affirmed without being intimidated.
“My lord, perhaps as a recent arrival you have not yet grasped it fully. All dark creatures here are under the control of the intelligence merchant. Precisely because of his presence, this city—teeming with mixed dragons and serpents, overflowing with desire—has no incidents of dark creatures harming people. Even at night, it remains prosperous.”
O’Brien fell silent. This had been one of his greatest confusions over the past months.
In a place with such dense population and rampant wicked thoughts, dark creatures should easily breed and be drawn here in large numbers. Yet since his arrival, aside from that vampire, he had not seen another dark creature. It seemed they had all fled early on.
“That vampire has such control?”
O’Brien still found it hard to believe. Dark creatures were hardly known for rationality.
Aside from vampires and a few beings like liches capable of thought, most dark creatures acted on instinct. How could they obey a vampire’s command? If dark creatures were organized and disciplined, would they still be dark creatures?
“The intelligence merchant keeps only those who obey his command. The rest have long been expelled or eliminated.” Mills spread his hands slightly.
O’Brien closed his eyes, silently digesting the information, weighing its truth and consequences.
After a long moment, he slowly opened them.
“Would a vampire really be so kind? What does he want?”