Sahro nodded with an interested gaze, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
“I never thought such a silly game would be so entertaining. Do they hold those often?” He asked, turning toward Darek. The man grumbled, his eyes mourning the silver he lost by betting on the wrong person.
“And the winner is…Rosso, the Smiling Imp!” The drunk referee yelled, followed by a roar of excitement or disappointment from the crowd that came to watch and bet on the “fight”.
The child-sized man with yellow teeth and a burn scar covering his bald head managed to win after enduring every slap and joke that came upon him, only reacting with a mocking smile at each of these. His opponent, Stonehead, found himself helplessly destroyed and was now lying on the ground with reddened cheeks, both of them imprinted with the mark of a hand.
‘...Hahaha, even your existence isn’t as funny as that dwarf’s jokes!’ Diamanes couldn’t stop laughing in Glenn’s mind, struggling to contain his laughter. He wiped the tears off his eyes and turned toward Darek.
“Too bad you didn’t listen to my advice, Darek,” Glenn sneered and grabbed the man’s shoulder, trying to comfort him. Darek pushed the hand off with a grunt and spat on the ground beside them.
“I’m sure it was staged…yeah, it was probably staged…damn it!” He shook his head, before looking at Glenn with suddenly gleaming eyes. The young man stepped back, shivering from an unknown feeling.
“...Which makes me think…Glenn, aren’t you a Dark-Gold rank now? You should have a few coins left to spare for your ol’ Uncle Darek, right?” The man smiled with a smile missing a few teeth, putting his hands in a cusp in front of him.
Glenn slapped the hand away, before putting his hand in his dimensional pouch, and taking out a single gold coin.
“You’re not getting anything for free from me, so piss off,” The man made a sad expression, turning away, before Glenn sighed and threw the coin in the air. Like a professional dancer, the man turned swiftly, grabbing the coin and making it disappear in his clothes. He smiled widely, rubbing his hands together.
“Well, well, maybe there is something this ol’Darek can do for you?” He said, his eyes stuck on Glenn’s dimensional pouch.
The young man gestured at a slightly less… populated area of the hallway and pulled the veteran away. Sahro followed, his hand resting on the hilt of his curved sword.
Glenn looked left and right, before placing his right hand on the lock of a random room. He infused Mana in it, moving the mechanism of the lock carefully. After a few seconds, a soft click resounded, and Glenn opened the door he just unlocked.
Darek frowned and opened his mouth to express his disapproval but Sahro shoved him in the room, following him in it. Glenn entered and closed the door behind him, locking the door behind him.
The "random" room was the victim's bedroom, as evidenced by the destroyed furniture, walls, and window. Sahro quickly checked the room out, while Glenn raised his left hand and summoned the Curse of Silence, surrounding the room and isolating it completely. They should still be able to talk, but no one would hear them.
Darek stepped back while swinging a sharp knife out of his belt.
“Damn bastard, I knew you were weird! Are you not satisfied with monsters, must you go for humans too, now?!?” Despite his bravado, his dagger trembled slightly, and a pearl of sweat went down his forehead.
Glenn stared at Darek, hiding half of his face with his hand. He sighed loudly before sitting on what was previously a chair.
“No, Darek, I’m not going to kill you. I’m just there to ask you some questions,” The man opened his mouth to protest but was cut off by Glenn, “...And of course, I should pay you for your services.” The glint of gold in his right hand caught the man’s eyes, and he sheathed back his knife while gulping loudly.
“...Alright, how can I help you, then?” Darek relaxed considerably, but his eyes kept going either for the door or the window, showing his distrust in Glenn’s words. The latter clapped his hands together, before showing the room to the veteran.
“I want to know everything about the man who used to live here. Name, the day he came here, his friends, family if he has one, and teammates. I want every detail,” Glenn quickly made his request, clenching and unclenching his purple, left hand.
Darek froze for a few seconds after hearing the request, before breathing out in relief and leaning against the crackled wall.
“God, so that’s only for that… Phew, you scared me there for a second,” The man chuckled nervously.
“Well, there’s not much to say about him. He just…popped out of nowhere like you did, Glenn, and took on Rift requests of Silver rank. Oh, and Silver was his initial rank, just like you again,” Darek began, tapping his chin while looking at the ceiling, recalling any information he had about the victim.
“I think he called himself the Prince or something…I talked with a friend of one of his teammates, who explained that he refused to be named anything else, so they just figured it was his name,”
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Glenn’s eyebrows rose, and he looked at Sahro with a pleasantly surprised gaze. The Black Heir stared back with a similar expression, nodding slightly. Darek continued, unaware of the silent exchange.
“Uhm…I think…Yes, one of his teammates is from the Sewers, a rat from the Pale District. I think he was named…Toubir, Toubar…?” The man struggled, his eyebrows creasing and his eyes closing in intense concentration. At the same time, he extended an open palm toward Glenn. The young man sighed and placed a silver coin in it, which Darek quickly pocketed.
“Yes, Josh!” Darek suddenly exclaimed, smiling widely. The corner of Glenn’s lips twitched.
‘...There’s quite the distance between Toubir and Josh…’
Darek continued shamelessly, opening his hand and counting his fingers up to four.
“Yes, there was Josh, Valer, Toumu Toula, and that last famous one, huh, Gentle Knight, I think he calls himself?”
Glenn’s eyes widened, the name of Gentle Knight ringing a bell. Where the hell did he hear about it…? Sahro slapped his fist in his open palm, surprised.
“Isn’t Gentle Knight that guy who managed to beat up a Cleaner yesterday?” The Black Heir asked with an impressed tone. Darek nodded without hesitation.
“Yeah, that’s him. He has been making quite a few waves in the Workshop these days… Everyone wonders how high he will climb!” He exploded in laughter, before stopping slowly, his eyes falling in some sort of sad melancholy.
Glenn rubbed his eyes tiredly, trying to connect the dots. Was it just a coincidence that one of the victim’s, no, Prince’s teammates was so famous, or was there some kind of underlying connection? He couldn’t tell for now.
“What else do you know about him?” Glenn pushed, startling Darek.
“Hum… He was an Aura practitioner, a Squire at most, like me…” The man trailed off at the end, before continuing, “...But I’ve heard some strange tales from the friend of the cousin of Prince’s teammate.” He leaned forward, closing his arms together, whispering as if it was the most precious secret.
“One of the Rifts snapped out and produced a Dark-Gold rank creature, something hardly seen these days. The team should have died, but a rose bloomed out of nowhere and gobbled the creature up!” Darek explained excitedly, gasping for air. Sahro and Glenn looked at him doubtfully without saying anything. Darek gasped for a few seconds, before giving up his act.
“Hah, damn it. I almost thought it was true, but seeing your reaction, it wasn’t… I’m gonna have to beat that guy’s ass… How am I supposed to run an intel shop if the intel I receive isn’t true?” The man sighed, rubbing the nape of his neck tiredly.
Glenn clapped his hands together and stood up from his chair. He nodded toward Sahro, before approaching Darek and clenching his shoulder. The man closed his eyes, readying himself for the pain that was probably coming.
“Thanks for your help, Darek. Here’s your payment,” The coins made a clinking sound as they fell in Darek’s hand, who didn’t dare open his eyes because of how scared he was of Glenn. As the head of the most developed information trading group in the Northern Town, he couldn’t help but listen to the rumors surrounding the strange young man. And it chilled him to the bone. The Black Heir accompanying him wasn’t much better either, but at least he wasn’t considered a madman.
The sound of the door closing pulled him out of his thoughts, and he opened his eyes with suspicion. There was no one but him left in Prince’s room, Glenn and Sahro having disappeared from it.
Darek breathed out, wiping off the sweat on his eyebrows.
"I'll be damned...Why did I even start dealing with this insane bastard...?" He looked down at his hand, scowling when he noticed a dozen silver coins lying there, the exact number he lost to gambling.
He gritted his teeth, before sighing loudly.
"What was his advice already? 'Stop gambling?'" He muttered, staring at the coins, his thoughts hidden in his eyes.
----------------------------------------
"So, we just need to check with the teammates, is that right?" Sahro asked aloud, following Glenn in his footsteps as they traversed the Dormitory, heading for the lower floor and ultimately the Main Hall of the Workshop.
Glenn nodded, fiddling with a gold coin in his left hand.
"We already found a name or at least a surname, but I'm sure the Workshop already knows it. Who the hell name themselves Prince, though?" He muttered the last part, shaking his head slightly.
Sahro shrugged and kept walking silently beside his friend.
A few minutes later, they were both staring at the contract board, which seemed much fuller than it should be.
"'Protection services required outside King's Rise- Silver or above', 'Looking for Mages that can help with reconstruction outside King's Rise' - Specialized Mages or Architects and masons' ... what the hell is going on outside King's Rise?" Sahro muttered, his hands on his waist as he looked at the contracts.
Many of them recruited people to go outside King's Rise, which was unusual since the Cleaner Workshop usually only operated within the city walls.
A Fixer seemed to hear him talking, as he turned and explained with a dark expression.
"They're re-building that village that got destroyed during the Blood Moon some time ago. There weren't many survivors left, and what the Moon Rift released was too dangerous for anyone to go near it," The man, wearing a traditional silk pair of blue pants and vest looked back at the board, wincing at its sight.
"...But I'm telling you, whatever destroyed the village is probably still there, or they wouldn't be recruiting so many people with fighting capabilities!" The man spat on the side and left the Workshop. Glenn kept on staring at the contracts, puzzled. There was one thing he couldn't understand, and that was how a village could put out such contracts.
He checked the rewards, and couldn't help but have his eyes widen. Every single one of them offered at least three gold coins, or ten coins at most. It was many more times than what contracts usually offered, way too much for the quantity of work presented. Even clearing Rifts never paid that much, even if it was paid by the upper echelons of the Workshop.
'Snif, snif, I can sense the scent of something fishy!' Diamanes exclaimed with a devious tone in Glenn's mind. The latter shrugged, and headed for the counter, asking the pretty receptionist a few questions. He wasn't bothered by the waiting time anymore, thanks to his status as a Dark-Gold Fixer.
Another sweet, sweet benefit he would never get tired of.
"Excuse me, did you see these four individuals? They're named Josh, Valer, Toumu Toula, and Gentle Knight," Glenn gently asked, summoning his Black-Gold dagger. The lady sighed and pointed at the door with a crestfallen expression.
"They took on a job outside King's Rise just an hour before you came here, to help with the reconstruction of Palancar," She explained, raising her hands helplessly.
Glenn looked at Sahro, and both of them sighed at the same time. The young man went back to the board and picked the one paying the most, an escort and guarding mission for a resource convoy that headed to Palancar, the ruined village. He went back to the counter, slapping the contract on it.
"I'd like to take on a mission."