"I swear, this will not go unheard! I know a few commanding Watchers, so you better prepare yourself! This is unacceptable, even more to a loyal patron of the Order!"
Glenn picked his ear, leaning against the guard's post wall as he waited for Maron to come back. The merchant's outraged exclamations reached him outside, making him sigh loudly. The convoy had safely arrived at the Western Gate, but due to the nature of the wares they transported as well as the size of their group, 'special authorizations' were required from the Watchers, the guards protecting the Rampart.
Maron had been trying to break a deal with the guard's post officer for the past hour, but from Glenn gathered of their heated exchanges, there was no room for negotiation. Shutting himself from the perpetual, raging merchant's voice, Glenn observed the Twilight's Gate surroundings. It wasn't much different from the Frozen Gate, with a Magic Identification Bureau, an Inn, and a guard post, with the only difference being the size of the Thorn's Church present here, slightly larger and in better condition. Without the Black Heirs' influence to stop them, it was a given that these whackos cultists would have more influence here.
The young man frowned, his fists clenched. Each time his gaze passed over the church, he couldn't help but desire its destruction. Their presence couldn't be helped, as the Northern-Western part of the Sewers was their territory, the Repentir.
'I mean, what's stopping you? The guards will probably not intervene, since they're supposed to only protect the Gate, and there shouldn't be many people able to stand up to you with your current strength,' Diamanes enticed him, his suave voice echoing in his host's head. Glenn bit down on his lower lips, before shaking his head. He had spent most of his time waiting observing the movements of the people entering and exiting the church, and had found out that there was a considerably bigger following in this district.
'...I can't just break in and blast everyone. I bet my hand that most of the people in there are starving inhabitants of the Sewers. I can't just kill them because they did their best to survive,' Glenn replied, his arms crossed. He kicked a pebble away, bored out of his mind, when Maron suddenly stormed out of the guard's post, his face red with anger.
"These sons of...!" Maron's exorbitated eyes trembled, the merchant's fists tightly closed in frustration. He cursed at the sky before sighing loudly, his shoulders drooping slightly.
"So, I guess no good news?" Glenn asked, glancing at the guards staring from inside the post, their expressions amused and haughty. Maron shook his head, smacking his lips.
"...Indeed. There is a lockdown on the Northern and Western Gates due to an increase in tension between the two factions residing in the Sewers," The merchant explained before throwing one last annoyed glance at the guard's post.
"The Black Heirs and the Thorn's Church..." Glenn muttered, the corners of his mouth rising slightly. Increase in tension? That could only mean one thing: the Black Heirs had begun the war against the cultist bastards.
'Hopefully, the Black Heirs will crush the Church soon. It would be great to get rid of this ever-present problem in the back of my mind,' Glenn thought sarcastically, his eyelids twitching as he glanced at the Church on the other side of the road. With some luck, he would maybe get the chance to contribute further to these crazy bastards' fall...
"...Anyway, we're forced to spend the night in the inn over there and wait for the authorizations to come. Sigh, I can't afford to lose my time like this, though..." The merchant's scowled as he grabbed the side of his head, his teeth clenched. He headed back to the convoy waiting nearby, Glenn following in his footsteps. Lefeivre stood up from his seat, opening his arms in puzzlement. Maron replied by shaking his head negatively, the foreman cursing silently.
Glenn observed the silent exchange before leaving to find Sahro and Javier back. The Black Heir and the Pale Son were standing guard around the convoy, scaring off any curious onlookers. The Maron's Company couldn't help but garner attention due to its size as well as the adorned look of Maron's carriage. Sahro raised an eyebrow when he saw Glenn, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword.
"So? When are we heading in?" He asked as he scratched the back of his head. Glenn made a wry smile and leaned against a nearby cart, his arms crossed.
"Tomorrow the soonest. Due to the war between the Black Heirs and the Thorn's Church, they made the entry requirements stricter for large groups and the like," Glenn rubbed the bridge of his nose, pensive. Sahro spat to the side, Javier not reacting whatsoever, his expression as bland and emotionless as ever.
"Shit, I thought the war would already be over. Tsk, it shouldn't be too long until we crush these cockroaches," Sahro blurted out as he passed his tongue over his teeth. Glenn nodded slightly, before pointing at the nearby Thorn's Church with his chin. The Black Heir looked at the Church, pondering, before shaking his head.
"Too many innocent bystanders would get hurt, we can't take care of it now..." He trailed off as he noticed a strange light shining in Glenn's eyes.
"I was thinking the same. So, what do you think about visiting them once there is no one left in it...?" The young man smiled wickedly, showing his peerlessly white teeth. Sahro rubbed his chin, grinning.
"...I'm not against it, that's for sure. Weakening their hold so far from the main fight is bound to do some damage to their logistics, right?" The Black Heir theorized, making his friend chuckle.
"Haha, I just want to get rid of them. Whether this will hurt their operations or not is above me," Glenn snorted, making Sahro shake his head dejectedly.
"Heh, at least you are honest about it. So, what do you propose—?"
Sahro's question was cut off by a loud cry of happiness from the mercenaries and the workers. Glenn frowned and caught an excited worker.
"What's going on?"
The worker smiled and nodded toward the nearby inn while rubbing his hands together.
"...' Sieur Maron declared free quarter until tomorrow, and he's paying his round for tonight!"
Glenn let go of him, his lips curved upward with a surprised expression.
"They do deserve it, after all..." He mumbled, before following the worker toward the inn. A sign freshly painted was hanging above the door, "The Twilight's Inn".
'They didn't bother with the name, huh?' Diamanes snorted, but Glenn ignored him. The name of the tavern didn't matter much; what did was what they served. As long as there were choices and quantities, it was a good inn in his books. Oh, and of course, it'd be best if they weren't affiliated with the Thorn's Church, but with how close they were with the Repentir, it was kind of a given.
Well, in the worst scenario he'll just have to kill a few cultists, so whatever right?
The sound of the bustling tavern reached Glenn's ears, a mix of laughter, glasses clinking, and chairs rattling against the ground. Surprisingly, there also seemed to be some music, a sound he hadn't met often ever since he came into this world. He pushed the saloon doors open, Sahro following close behind. A glance informed him that Javier had chosen to remain with the carts and carriages, holding his bow calmly.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Glenn shrugged and entered the inn. He certainly wasn't going to force the silent hunter to follow them.
"Hahaha, three of a kind!"
"...Bastard! Show me your sleeves!"
"Hahaha!!"
The young man smiled and chose to head directly to the counter, Sahro instead walking off to try and find an empty table. The inn was surprisingly big, even more so for one that remains outside the walls, with three floors, a scene for musicians to perform, and lots of people to fill it.
It was almost comparable to the Auberge, without the disgusting Boss.
'...Of course, they're also around,' Glenn squinted, noticing three robed persons sitting silently at a table a few meters away, silently sipping on beer without trying to mix without the customers. The young man sighed and shook his head, before leaning against the counter, waiting for a barman.
"🎵...So let us sing of the brave and bold, who faced the darkness, fierce and cold, for in their tales, we find our might, to stand against the darkest night!🎵" The bard standing on the scene bowed under the applause and exclamations of the public. He held out his hat, generous hands filling it with coins. Glenn smiled and made himself more comfortable, waiting for the next song.
"What can I serve you?" A female voice took Glenn out of his contemplation, bringing with her an air of spiced alcohol and a hint of...mint? The young man glanced back, freezing in shock when he recognized the barmaid.
"...Milena?"
The lady dropped the glass mug she was carrying out of surprise, Glenn barely catching it reflexively. She took a step back, Mana twirling around her hands, but the young man in front of her shook his head dejectedly. He couldn't help but remark that her...style had changed a lot since the last time he'd seen her. The dark robe covering her from head to toe was nowhere to be seen, replaced by cheap linen pants and tunics, letting everyone appreciate her long flowing black hair and plump lips.
"Don't worry, I already know your secret, and honestly, I don't care." He blurted out, before grinning widely.
"I'd like two pints of brown ale, please."
Taken aback, Milena didn't peep a word and silently prepared two pints, her movements precise and trained. It seemed like she had spent much time here, at least a month. Could she have hidden herself here back when she fled his questions? Glenn shrugged, discarding these thoughts. It didn't matter anymore, he now knew Prince's identity and couldn't care less about Milena's Test or whatever that was. The only thing that annoyed him was how she destroyed that book he found in the Library...
Milena slammed the two pints in front of Glenn, holding her hand out.
"S—Six coppers..." She struggled to say, her eyes trembling and shooting to the sides uncontrollably. Glenn fished a few coins from his dimensional pouch, handing them over before picking up the drinks. He then headed for the table Sahro found. Luckily, it was quite close to the scene, so he'd be able to enjoy more of the bard's show.
"Thanks. Hey, wasn't that lady the one you talked to me about?" Sahro accepted the beer gratefully, before nodding his chin at the counter, where Milena was still standing frozen, a blank expression on her pretty face. Glenn smacked his lips, shrugging.
"Yep, but now that we know who Prince was, we don't need her anymore. I thought she'd have answers to some of my questions, but since the last time I tried asking her she fled like a scared rabbit, I decided the struggle was simply not worth the effort," Glenn explained, sipping on his beer. His tensed-up shoulders from the harsh travel relaxed down and he leaned comfortably in his chair, going as far as to put his feet on the table.
'Wow, your manners from Earth are completely gone now, you're just doing whatever you want now, huh?' Diamanes mocked, making his host reply with a snort.
'When in Rome, live like the Romans, right?' retorted Glenn, silencing Diamanes. The bard was talking to some members of the audience about the all-important question of what he was going to sing next.
"Let's do Noir's the Iron Fist!"
"Nah, get the fuck out with your sweaty man, tell us about Countess Yora's Shield!"
The audience had a hard time agreeing, some were even ready to exchange blows to get the songs they wanted.
"Alright, alright, I'll tell a new story, then, a story no one heard until now!" The bard calmed things down with a warm smile, a strange guitar with nine strings resting on his lap. The audience grumbled but accepted nonetheless. After all, the bard was the only one who could sing, so he had the final say on what he chose to play. The musician, a man with a slender body and a mysterious smile barely revealed under a wide-brimmed fedora pressed his hat further over his nose, before starting the music, his fingers dancing on the nine-stringed guitar.
Sahro drank from his mug with a moan of appreciation, wiping off the foam over his mouth with his sleeve.
"Ahh, man, I missed that! It feels great to finally rest after all of this mess..." The Black Heir grinned, watching the bard alongside Glenn. The young man was silently frowning, rubbing his temples confusedly. For some reason, he could have sworn that the bard had glanced at his left arm before beginning his song, but he wasn't exactly sure.
"Dear friends, this ballad is one I wrote under the cold moonlight, inspired by a dark horse rising from the shadows..." The bard began, his fingers quickening on his guitar, suggesting heroic music. The public cheered, trading drinks and laughter. The musician smiled silently, the hue from the nearby torches and light Shards illuminating his lips.
"🎵In lands of yore where shadows dwell, There lived a hero few could quell...🎵" The bard sang, captivating the audience instantly. Glenn quickly stopped listening to the lyrics, staring back at Milena at the counter despite his best reason. The lady was thoughtlessly cleaning a glass mug, a complicated and worried expression on her face. She looked up and crossed his gaze, clenching her teeth in reaction.
Milena put the glass away, before going around the counter and joining Glenn's table. Sahro glanced at her with creased eyebrows, but didn't say anything. The woman pulled a chair out and sat in front of Glenn, her lips pinched and her fists tightly clenched. Glenn raised his pint toward her, grinning, before emptying it. The cold beer quenched his thirst and relaxed him further until the memory of getting his stuff stolen and having to fight a grotesque amalgam of an entire kitchen staff popped back into his mind.
He slowly put the glass down, before nodding toward Milena.
"It seems like you reconverted yourself. How is it going?" Glenn asked innocently, peering into her silver eyes. He had never noticed they were of such a pronounced color before, but again, he had never cared that much for that haughty bitch. Milena smacked her lips, grumbling with irritation as she pushed away a stumbling drunkard.
"...As you can see, it's going well. But you know I'm not here to talk about that. What do you know about me, you bastard?!?" She whispered angrily, throwing worried glances around herself. Glenn shrugged, making the glass mug spin on the table.
"Well, not much. Hey, you know, I'm glad your reconversion is going well. From a Court's Noble to a Fixer, then to a waitress, that's quite the career change—" The young man was forced to lean his head to the side, narrowly avoiding a sharp gust of Mana. He squinted, Milena's surprising him.
For some reason, he could find... fear in her eyes.
But what did an undercover noble playing around with low-borns could be scared of? Even more when knowing that she was a powerful mage controlling the strangest spells Glenn had encountered in his life. She slammed her fist against the table, shooting daggers with her eyes.
"You—How did you know I was from...There?" She hissed, leaning above the table, making Sahro's glass wobble dangerously. The Black Heir hurriedly caught it, before glancing haughtily at the pesky woman that dared to disturb his peaceful resting time.
"Oh, I didn't, but now I'm sure of it. Do you mind getting another beer for me and my friend? I don't doubt he will finish it soon," Glenn stated matter-of-factly, uncaring. Sahro nodded and emptied his mug swiftly, slamming it on the table loudly. The noise was drowned under the perpetual conversations and the laughter of the tavern, as well as the pleasant song the bard was singing. Milena puffed her cheeks and grabbed the two mugs, leaving the table with angry steps.
Glenn and Sahro exchanged a gaze before chuckling and fist-bumping. The two glanced at the bard, listening to the lyrics when they both froze in shock.
"...🎵His left arm, purple with the demon's grin,
Held powers dark, yet pure within,
A pact he made in whispers deep,
To claim the souls that monsters keep,🎵"
The Black Heir frowned and pointed at the bard with confusion.
"Wait, isn't he talking about...?"
Glenn shook his head with awe, unable to believe his ears.
"No, we must be wrong, right?"
"🎵Oh, sing of him, the mad hero bold,
Whose tales of valor shall be told,
With astral magic and axe aflame,
He carved his path, immortal name!🎵"
The bard's song reached its climax, his fingers' movements blurred from how fast they were playing the nine-stringed guitar. He pushed his hat down, before giving one last guitar solo. The tavern became silent, hypnotized by the music as they waited for it to end. Finally, the bard let go of the guitar, the notes still playing in the audience's ears.
"...The Demon's Grin..." He whispered, his words heard by everybody. Silence took place in the inn, until applauses and impressed roars echoed out, showering the bard with praises. The bard saluted politely, his hand against his chest, before giving one last amused and mysterious to Glenn. He then jumped into the crowd, disappearing inside it, the sound of coins clinking inside his hat echoing from every spot of the tavern.
Glenn and Sahro looked at each other, shocked.
"What the hell was that?"