Chapter 101: Aphra

The sparse light snow had already stopped by the time the sun rose. The thin accumulation on the ground had frozen into grimy patches. The dry, cold air still stung people’s noses. So, even though the sun had risen high behind the gloomy clouds, there weren’t many people on the streets. Even the usually bustling gate of Hayton City only had a small squad of City Guards. They wore standard-issue cloaks and leaned lazily on their spears under the portcullis. They listlessly watched a few farmers coming and going.

But soon, they all became alert again. On the western road, a cluster of black dots gradually expanded into a column of riders galloping on horseback. The guards hurriedly gave orders, pushing carts and pedestrians out of the way. Experience told them a group like this usually meant only two things: the entourage of a noble lord, or a merchant caravan with important goods. Whichever it was, they needed to be on their toes and handle it carefully. Tips or a cut of the profits were important sources of extra income.

The group slowed its pace at the city gate.

This was a group of at least thirty riders, unusually all fully armored Knights. Their mismatched armor and clothing looked even more strange. Broad knightly swords were hidden under their cloaks, only the cloth-wrapped, heavy hilts visible. Some Knights carried heavy crossbows on their backs, with heavy quivers hanging from their saddles. In truth, the Knights’ armor could only be described as worn and shabby. They looked like a band of Mercenaries. But the City Guard, known for bullying the weak and fearing the strong, all stood at stiff attention and saluted at that moment. The banners snapping in the wind, adorned with the snarling, almost living Griffin, were enough to show them exactly what the ancient armor on these Knights signified.

…

“Safety isn’t a concern now… but won’t this provoke His Majesty the King?”

The youth shook his head, shifting his gaze from the Knights who had just filed through the gate to a piece of paper in his hand. He paced, trying to recite a few words of the Divine Script on it, but finally sighed and threw the character-filled sheet onto a nearby table. He spoke in his mind.

“I’m not very familiar with the methods among Nobles, so I can’t be of much help to you…” The deep green Gemstone Amulet glimmered faintly, its diamond-shaped black patterns shifting, as if expressing some discontent. “I only know that at your current pace, even with another six months, you might not memorize the incantation for the Flight Spell. Although achieving the equivalent of touching the third layer of the Weave of Magic in such a short time is a remarkable talent, I must remind you that if you can’t effectively develop and use it, talent is no different from dog crap.”

The almost-cursing mockery made Constantine frown. A magic that allows the Spellcaster to fly briefly in the air like a bird. This is one of Humankind’s oldest dreams. So, when choosing an available third-circle spell, Constantine had almost immediately chosen this one. But he hadn’t expected the incantation to be so long and tongue-twisting. Mastering it would undoubtedly require immense effort.

“If that bastard Deity had given me a memory that could instantly remember all spells, wouldn’t that be much better than this nerve-manipulating ability with huge backlash?” Constantine complained inwardly. Then he simply plopped down into a large wicker lounge chair and beckoned. Miss Nirwen, who had been sitting to the side, let out an unwilling huff. But in the end, she quietly stepped behind the chair and began combing his hair with a beautiful tortoiseshell comb, gently massaging his temples.

Enjoying the wonderful feeling of someone combing his hair and massaging his head, the youth mischievously leaned his head back. It rested, not too lightly or heavily, not painfully or ticklishly, against the Blood Elf’s chest. The trembling softness against the back of his head made him close his eyes in comfort. The Elf behind him trembled slightly but didn’t move away, merely acquiescing to his minor transgression. This made the youth feel even more pleased.

Of course, this wasn’t just a decadent indulgence. It was also because when he was thinking, this made him feel very comfortable, and that comfort made his thoughts sharper.

Enjoying that wicked comfort, Constantine’s mind raced.

What was taxing his mind now wasn’t just the newly available third-circle spell. What gave him a bigger headache was undoubtedly the series of events during the Orlier family hunt and their aftermath.

Regarding politics, Constantine had never studied it much, and he still didn’t understand the thinking of those old foxes at all. Even memories from his previous life weren’t much help on this level. In his memories, even an old fox like Wei Xiaobao panicked when threatened with accusations of rebellion… Yet after something nearly identical happened, Duke Connalyvis’s reaction was… remarkably mild.

In fact, mild was an understatement. When Constantine recounted everything to him, all he got in return was a cold, sneering smile. The Duke was engrossed in reading a document of unknown content, as if the youth was merely telling him the neighbor’s cats had knocked over a flowerpot. When Constantine subtly hinted at the problems within, the Duke waved impatiently and shooed the youth out of the room.

Apart from that one meeting to hear Constantine’s report, he hadn’t even seen the youth again. He remained busy with unknown banquets and such, as if the assassination attempt had nothing to do with him, or as if the entire event had never happened!

Was this the calm of an innocent man with nothing to fear, or the composure of someone with powerful backing? And precisely today, thirty Griffon Knights from the distant Western Frontier had arrived in Hayton… This strange coincidence was truly giving the youth a splitting headache.

“Nirwen, how much do you know about assassin organizations?” The fruitless thinking ended. The youth, comfortably gesturing to the sides of his head to feel the increased pressure of the massage, suddenly spoke.

“Assassins? They rarely have any proper organizations…” The sudden question made the Blood Elf pause, but she soon sneered. “Take money, do the job… that’s the first rule for assassins. It might sound exaggerated, but if you have enough money, even the Creator’s head can be brought to you… But this also means most assassins aren’t part of formal organizations. They usually operate alone, or at most in small groups of a few dozen… The truly skilled ones always work alone.”

“And then?” The youth nodded. Assassins, in any world, were among the oldest and most mysterious professions. Every year on the Western Continent, some Nobles died from daggers appearing from the Darkness. Even Kings high above were not spared. Although Empires issued strict warrants for assassins, these elusive figures rarely failed… because on this Plane, they had the protection of their own Deities, the God of Death and the Assassin God.

“And then… nothing.” The Blood Elf’s next answer was surprisingly curt, giving Constantine a feeling of being blindsided.

“Nothing? Don’t they usually have methods, ways to make contact, things like that?”

“Of course nothing. What do you think assassins are? They’re the most secretive bunch. If their methods and ways were known so clearly, how would they kill people?” In response to the youth’s somewhat dissatisfied questioning, the Blood Elf replied impatiently.

“Aren’t you part of a thieves’ organization? You should know some insider information about this, right?”

“I am not an assassin! Can’t you use your pig brain to think? How could a pure and lovely beauty like me be involved in that kind of killing business?” The joking remark made the Elf’s face flush red as she retorted angrily. “The Eagle Syndicate only steals things, occasionally swindling those noble pigs. Killing is not our trade!”

“Oh, so that Eagle Syndicate must be a thieves’ guild, right?” Constantine leisurely shifted his head. But the Elf just bit her lip and didn’t speak further.

In truth, since that hunt, Constantine had been trying to get the Elf to talk about her mysterious organization—things like its location or how to make contact. But the Blood Elf was clearly determined to keep the secret. Even when the youth used the effect of the soul pest, she stubbornly refused to reveal anything. Constantine had no immediate solutions. Of course, he had considered some extreme methods, but unfortunately, room soundproofing wasn’t very good in this era. If he reenacted the scene from the Prince’s mansion, the looks people gave him later would definitely include the word “pervert” in the Common Tongue.

But thankfully, he could still try gradual trickery.

“To be precise, we’re more of an information guild, meow. Usually, our biggest business is buying and selling information. But there’s one thing we have in common with those assassins.” A voice suddenly sounded beside him. Startled, Constantine turned his gaze and noticed a blue-gray furball—the blue-gray cat with a pretty Gemstone ornament. He had seen it once before… or rather, twice—the most recent time was in a grove at the Prince’s estate.

“From noble affairs to military secrets, as long as you have enough gold coins, even the color of the Creator’s underwear, we can find out for you!” The cat sat on the windowsill, leisurely grooming its whiskers with one paw.

Constantine’s eyes narrowed. Its appearance was indeed very convenient for information gathering. No one in the entire Duke’s Mansion had noticed it… In fact, in this noble residential area, who would pay attention to a seemingly ordinary, purebred cat? And the Gemstone ornament around its neck clearly had some means of preventing detection. Even with the youth’s vision, he could only see an ordinary gem.

“You’re quite bold, daring to come here… Aren’t you afraid I’ll stew you into a cat hotpot?” The youth suppressed his inner surprise. He snorted coldly, putting on an expression of being in complete control, as if he had known its whereabouts all along.

“Has the injury on your wrist stopped hurting, meow?” The catwoman responded with a sneering meow…

It’s hard to imagine what a human-like expression on a cat’s face looks like, but Constantine’s current feeling was simply wanting to laugh. He rubbed the tip of his nose and then spoke coldly. “Don’t make me talk to a cat. It looks perverted!”

“Do you think you aren’t? And if I changed into Human form, you’d look even more perverted, meow!” The cat, completely unbothered, jumped off the windowsill and came before the youth’s chair. It announced in a haughty voice, “But I’m not here to argue today, meow… I’m here to deliver a message. Sister Aphra wants to meet you, meow. So, Viscount Constantine, will you accept the invitation, meow?”

“She’s the leader of our syndicate…” The youth’s confused look made the Blood Elf whisper in addition. Constantine frowned, noticing the latter’s body gave a slight shudder.

“Mmm, that’s right. It’s the leader of the Eagle Syndicate, Sister Aphra, who wants to meet you in person, meow…” The blue-gray cat took over proudly, lazily swishing its tail. “Honored, kid. You know, even in all of Hayton, no, all of Phoenix… very few people have truly had Sister Aphra… Meow-eeow!?”

The proud tone suddenly turned into a screech. The cat abruptly noticed the youth had somehow appeared beside her and had reached out to grab her by the scruff of the neck! She had prepared to dodge immediately, but an invisible sluggish feeling made her movement a step too slow! Though she struggled desperately afterwards, the biological weakness wasn’t so easy to overcome. The little creature, caught by the scruff, lost about half her ability to resist, her flailing claws only attacking the air uselessly. She heard the youth’s icy voice sound by her ear.

“And the reason?” The other’s struggling movements gave him a wave of pleasure. Constantine sneered, viciously tightening his grip. “What reason do I have to go see some unknown so-called robber chief? Especially after she nearly got me killed a few days ago?”

“Meow meow meow! We didn’t harm you! Those attackers had nothing to do with us, meow!” The pressure on her neck made the cat screech. “To show good faith, here’s some information for you… You know what? The source of those heavy crossbows from the last attack… they were the Connallyvis Family’s heavy crossbows!”

“Oh? That is interesting news… though it doesn’t seem very useful.” The youth’s wrist tightened a bit more.

“Let me finish, you idiot pig of a moronic noble, meow!” The cat had given up struggling, using words to express her anger instead. “Meow… Generally, this type of crossbow rarely has a Magic Mark preserved. So, investigating through this channel makes it easy to find out the origins of the attackers!”

“That doesn’t seem to require your reminder, does it? Do you think we have no intelligence sources?” Constantine relaxed his grip a tiny bit, letting the cat, who was starting to roll her eyes, breathe a sigh of relief, but his voice remained just as cold.

“Investigating such matters is our specialty, especially in Hayton. Any spy, even the royal lapdogs or Mages, won’t be faster than us! We already know exactly who bought that batch of heavy crossbows, meow… Sister will tell you the rest herself. Her carriage is at the gate! It’s up to you whether to see her or not, meow!”

…

The carriage was just an ordinary four-wheeled one. Its brown exterior had no extra decoration, but traveling on North Street in the noble district wouldn’t make anyone feel it was shabby. The coachman was a clean-cut man with well-proportioned features. He looked just like his carriage—a bit above average, but still within the realm of ordinary.

But the passenger inside this carriage was absolutely not ordinary.

Constantine narrowed his eyes, observing the woman in noble dress who had just stepped down from the carriage.

This was a woman who was simply too womanly.

In truth, she wasn’t what you’d call a stunning beauty. But if you looked carefully, you’d find each flaw paired with an advantage. Looking closely, you’d see one of her eyes was blue, the other black. But this made the glances from her eyes fluid and full of allure. Her lips were a bit full, but their lines were very beautiful. And the two rows of tiny, shell-like teeth, set against those crimson lips, showed an unchanging, pure white brilliance, seeming almost capable of biting through stone. Her hair and eyebrows weren’t particularly delicate, but their ink-drawn darkness held a passionate warmth. Especially the skin on her face, so fine it seemed oiled, glowing with an indescribable, attention-grabbing red light!

Her slender figure was only full in certain, necessary places. Her clothing was clearly chosen with care. It didn’t seem revealing, but the slightly open collar and the perfectly tailored waistline made her seem filled with a kind of exposed temptation, displaying a beauty that was almost cruel yet also unrestrained…

It was hard to imagine how two utterly opposite traits could blend in one person… If forced to describe her, she was a panther, but one that could at will turn into an affectionate kitten.

In comparison, the Blood Elf, Miss Nirwen, though surpassing her in facial beauty by more than a step, fell short by at least two levels in terms of charm.

Stepping down from the carriage with a flawless motion no Noble could criticize, she offered a graceful smile, but her words were as wanton as a streetwalker’s. “Well, little Nightingale… have you found yourself a good man…”

“Just, be careful…” She giggled. “Men can never resist temptation, and there are too many temptations in this world. You can hope he loves you, but don’t expect him to love only you forever.”