Chapter 25: Hands of the Artisan VI
----------------------------------------
[THE SILVER SEAT - South Side]
Left. Right. Center. Right. Right.
And the trail went cold again.
The Manslayer touched his hand on the cold street. Nothing more he could find in this direction. No, he’d have to backtrack.
This particular silver trail went out into the open and encountered one of his client’s goons a few days ago. He would’ve been noticed and discovered quickly, and the Manslayer’s contract would have been terminated. So it was not the child after all.
Once more, one more time. He’d get the right one, sooner or later. He was already starting to narrow it down. The silver trails he could see in the air were starting to tease out the truth just by how many he had already followed.
His client hadn’t been truthful with him, or she had no clue. If the boy had been what she had described, he would’ve found him by now. No, the boy had far, far more stamina than at first assumed. All the trails that simply led close to the Night Market had turned up dead ends. He had searched them all.
He would have to search further.
The Manslayer looked at the bridge in the distance, the one that allowed for passage between the north and south sides of the city. Could the child have gone all the way...?
No, he would have been seen.
Darkness. In darkness he would find the child.
If not above, then perhaps...
No, he was getting ahead of himself. First, return to the Night Market and continue to suss out the trails. He would find the right one, sooner or later.
One sure step at a time.
The trail that led under the bridge could wait until some of the more likely ones could be ruled out first. He would deal with it in time.
----------------------------------------
[THE SILVER SEAT - White Hand Precinct No. 7]
The three of them were in the armoury again. Webby had not followed them, instead opting to stay back in Alonzo’s office and perfect his origami. He had gotten past paper airplanes, and was now attempting to make a flower.
Muse nodded at Cain, who had gotten out another large warhammer. He had it raised above his head, looking at Muse nervously.
“As hard as I can?” asked Cain.
“As hard as you can,” grinned Muse.
Cain breathed in, raised the monstrous object above his head, and slammed it down as hard as he could, the force of which was not inconsequential in any sense of the word.
WHAM!
The wooden sword shuddered under the weight. This time they had situated the weapon against a solid surface - a rock, and there was no need to worry about breaking the object underneath until they were through.
That said, it was a good thing they were on the ground floor. Both Alonzo and Muse could practically feel the shockwaves rocking through their feet. Muse caught Alonzo’s shocked expression and grinned.
WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!
Cain continued to swing the warhammer without pause. Thankfully, his Strength was at a high enough level to wield the object easily. Without his gain in levels, he doubted that he would’ve been able to even raise it to his shoulder with both arms, but now he was capable of so much more.
His form was perfect, transferring as much power as possible from the top of the swing to the bottom, letting gravity do its job while adding on as much power from his muscles as he could. The result was less like a blow, and felt more like a bomb.
But the wooden sword was every bit his equal.
The flat end of the iron hammer smashed into the wood time and time again, leaving no nicks or scratches. It was an unreal sight, to be honest. Both Alonzo and Muse were captivated by it.
“...It’s still not showin’ any damage,” said Alonzo. “That’s bonkers. I knew it, but...”
“It’s not like you guys seriously tried to destroy it before,” said Muse. “Seems like testing its durability wasn’t one of those things you guys should’ve been worried about after all.”
It took around ten minutes worth of continuous swings before something finally happened. Alonzo had been just about ready to call the entire thing to a stop, reasoning that the sword was clearly unbreakable by something of this level.
With one final good smash of the hammer, the wooden sword finally gave.
Well, to be honest, gave might’ve been an understatement.
The wooden sword exploded. Alonzo and Muse threw up their hands to cover themselves from the debris, but Cain didn’t have the time nor the reactions to do so. By the time everybody had recovered from the wooden explosion, pieces and fragments of the object formerly known as a wooden sword covered the ground.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Alonzo looked at the mess.
“Well, I hope you learned somethin’ from this,” he said, growling.
Muse smiled. She had her hands clasped in glee - this had been exactly the outcome that she had been hoping for!
“Oh, we sure did. Taking all that damage but showing no signs of wear and tear, then once past the threshold the entire thing blowing up?” grinned Muse. “Doesn’t that sound kind of familiar, Cain?”
It was, but Cain was distracted by something only he could see.
“Cain?”
[Crafted Novice’s Training Sword: Durability 0/100]
This wasn’t something that had shown up, even when he had broken Bron’s bow when protecting Muse against McDougal’s attack. That meant the weapon had been truly special.
Muse had been right.
----------------------------------------
[THE SILVER SEAT - White Hand Precinct No. 7 Rooftop]
The wind was blowing today. Not enough to be a danger or a bother, but enough to be noticeable. The spring warmth was beaten back by the slight chill that the gust brought, Muse noticed. It was a shame that she hadn’t brought another layer.
“Crafted, you say?”
“That’s right. The window described it as a Crafted Novice’s Training Sword,” said Cain, his hand up to his ear.
Muse also had her hand up to her ear as well. They were standing on the roof of the seventh precinct. Alonzo had unlocked the door for them - it was a private location, and there was nothing in the way to block the signal of the Corpse Candles.
“A similar constitution to Players.”
Neither of them could quite make out what his tone meant. It was flat, and unexpressive. An image that the man seemed to like to present, although Cain often noticed a sort of dark humour in his expressions and behaviour.
“Yes,” agreed Muse. “The same phenomenon as what the Grandmaster described to us. It took hit after hit despite looking in perfect condition, then once Cain landed the last blow it blew apart. Even though it hadn’t looked worse for wear at all!”
Cain wondered how he should word his next point.
“...In the world I come from,” said Cain. “There are these things called ‘video games’. A lot of the System Mechanics that Players have seem similar to abilities given in these games. Ronove, I think... I think there’s a Player running around with something like a crafting System.”
A pause.
“...Ronove?” asked Muse.
“Incredible,” said the incredulous voice on the other end. “Years of searching with no result, and then two Players in the span of a month. The Grandmaster was right. Players truly attract other Players.”
Cain’s brow furrowed. That wasn’t something that he had heard the Grandmaster say before. Not something that the Grandmaster had brought up during all his talk of Players and their abilities. What did he mean by that?
Was it just a figure of speech, or something more?
“The Laughing Kings are our best lead,” said Muse. “We’re not sure whether or not the Player is working with them willingly. The weapon’s name is Crafted Novice’s Training Sword; despite its quality, Cain suspects that the Player is hiding their abilities and making the weakest possible weapon they can.”
“Ah, the slavers.”
A silence, as something shuffled on the other end. Cain had assumed that the man was still at the Lamplight Abbey. Now that he thought about it, he didn’t really know where the man usually was. Every time he had met him in the Silver Seat, it had been in the Grandmaster’s office.
Ronove’s voice echoed through the gloves once more.
“That’s not a problem. I’ll look into it for you - won’t take more than half a day. Fill Knight Investigator Sierra in on our mission and inform him that the Black Lamps will be making this a joint investigation.”
“Fill him in?”
“Yes,” said Ronove, chuckling. “He’s in far too deep now.”
Downstairs, Alonzo felt a shudder go down his back, as if somebody had just now walked over his grave.
----------------------------------------
[THE SILVER SEAT - The Grand Bay Trading Company]
There soon would be nothing left of Lesalia Romera’s fingernails at this rate. The other Laughing King captains were asking for their weapons and getting more and more impatient, as were some of the smaller gangs that she had approached. The deadlines were looming, but she had nothing to give them.
She continued to roam desperately in her plush office. The furniture and drapery were of all the highest quality, things that she needed to impress guests and clients when they entered. Whether it was for legitimate business or something shadier, Lesalia believed that image mattered.
But now that she was not in front of other people, she was letting her frustrations out in full force.
It was all that infernal brat’s fault! She was going to lose her hair at this rate.
The Manslayer had yet to get back to her either, although apparently that was simply his modus operandi. It was not uncommon for many of his employers to not hear from him for days or weeks, before he showed up at their door with the head of their enemies or whatever else they had sent him to fetch.
Calm, she needed to calm herself down. She sat back against her chair, rubbing her forehead.
She looked at the time and growled. It was far past her teatime! No wonder she hadn’t been able to calm down - she was a creature of habit, and required everything on her schedule to be timely in order to be in control of herself.
“Mason! Mason? Bring me something to relax my nerves! Chamomile tea, perhaps!”
Where the hell was he?
Soft footsteps she could hear outside on the carpet.
There he was. Oh, she was going to have a field day yelling at him. It would feel good too, some of the best stress relief in the business. Nothing quite like it.
Lesalia got up and threw the door open, snarling. But the sight that she saw was not the one that she had been expecting.
“Who are--”
A hand slapped against her mouth, driving her back until she hit the wall with a slam. The man in front of her wore nothing but black, and had a mask that only revealed his eyes. A strand of silver hair poked out of his headgear, revealing its colour.
“Let me inform you of some facts,” said Ronove. “First, giving good weapons to those who don’t know how to use them does not make you safe.”
She noticed suddenly, even in her terror, that there was blood on his clothing and hands. Now that she had thought about it, it wasn’t just Mason. She hadn’t heard footsteps outside her door in quite a while, despite the constant patrols that should’ve been taking place.
Where had everybody been?
“Secondly, your activities have not been as secretive as you thought. The Laughing Kings started activities just one week after your Grand Bay Trading Company moved into the capital. You didn’t seriously think all the orders were unaware?”
A chuckle. Oh no, Lesalia realized that the man was enjoying this.
“Now that I’ve shared some knowledge with you,” said the man, taking his other hand out from behind his back. “Perhaps you would like to share some with me.”
A blade, dripping with blood.
Lesalia quivered in fright.