It had been a long day seeing all the sights of Academy city, and the class had settled down in the school dining room to enjoy a late dinner. As they sat there finishing off each of their respective meals, they noticed a young-looking boy in chainmail approach them.

Sharing a look, the class exchanged a nod as Tasha turned to face the boy. Since the tournament, they had a sudden fresh influx of people asking for help getting into Alex’s lessons. Upon hearing of this, Alex created a way for students who weren’t part of the initial batch. One with many convoluted steps that had yet to even be met.

This was also why they had Tasha as their first line of defence against such people—considering anyone willing to overcome the terror she had instilled in the student body as sufficient to pass at least the first step. The boy stopped at the end of the table and cleared his throat; in that way, that was clear there wasn’t something stuck in it.

“Ahem!”

“No,” Tasha replied before turning back to her desert.

“Ahem!!” the boy persisted.

“Listen, we don’t choose who can join. Professor Alex is the one who does. You want to join; you will need to complete the prerequisite challenges,” Daisy explained, seeing Tasha’s predatory glare wasn’t getting the boy to go away.

“If you insist, the first step of many is to go to the school admin office and fill out an application in triplicate. Then sacrifice the first form to the god Professor Alex was blessed under. I have been told if you pick the wrong god, you must start from the beginning,” Kline began.

“Should you pick the right one, and before you ask, no, we won’t tell you which one it is. You will then need to fold the second application using origami in such a way the relevant details are perfectly legible,” Bea added as she sipped at her tea.

“Buh…” The boy tried to say before Gunter cut him off.

“You will then need to convince the chief to accept your third form and-”

“Will you let me actually speak?! I am not here to join that man's lessons. I am here at the behest of my master.”

“Master?” Daisy repeated.

“Yes, he requested I retrieve you post haste,” the boy replied.

“Who is your master?” Maxwell asked.

“He has specifically ordered me not to reveal it, only that I must retrieve you,” the boy explained.

“Oh? But we are in the middle of enjoying our meal,” Maxwell replied, gesturing to a stack of empty plates.

“Yes, I can see that, especially the bones. Very fitting… regardless, it is imperative you must follow.”

“To see this mysterious master?” Daisy asked.

“Please do; I would hate for anything unfortunate to happen,” he replied with a glance down. His implication was loud and clear; it wasn’t unheard of for the youngest members of a servant staff to be beaten for even minor failings. The class exchanged telling glances that conveyed an entire conversation that, while devoid of words, spoke more of how close they had become.

“Should we go?” Maxwell’s eyebrows conveyed by arching in a curious manner.

“Can we trust him?” Bea’s tilt of her head in the boy's direction asked.

“It would spoil the meal if he got beaten because we refused,” Daisy’s hand motions said.

“I WANT YOUR CAKE!!!!” Tasha’s eyes screamed. Relenting to her hungering gaze, Maxwell slid his desert plate across to her.

“So we are all agreed?” Maxwell asked by jutting his chin, to which the rest of the class replied with a more clear nod. Tasha was the only exception to this nod as her face was currently displaying clear joy at the cake.

“So are you coming?” the boy asked with words confused by the awkward silence that had lasted a couple of minutes, having watched them all look at each other with weird expressions.

“Yes, we will come. Just let Tasha finish her sweets fix,” Maxwell replied.

Much to the boy's annoyance, Tasha had a very high bar for her sweets fix to be met, and it was a good half an hour before they left the dining room. Following the boy through the school grounds, they came to the plaza they were in earlier that morning.

Surrounding the plaza were covered walkways that had pillars and arches along their length. Leaning against one of these pillars was a being in a black cloak with what was clearly chainmail painted black so it wouldn’t reflect light.

Maxwell recognised this clothing well, as it was part of his childhood education. The man was wearing the standard uniform of a member of the assassins guild. A guild that made death such a commodity that the funeral industry felt its monopoly slip.

“Master, I have collected those things you requested,” the boy said imperiously as he knelt in front of the man.

“You are Alexander’s class, yes?” the cloaked figure asked.

“I, as you can see, am an assassin. I want your assistance to help me get close to Johan Pleidies. Help me, and you will each get an equal cut of the ‘Deck of Fifty-two bounty.”

“Lord Johan, why are you dressed that way?” Maxwell asked. While for most of the class, it was a poorly lit and dark area. Maxwell was a werebeast and thus had very good night vision. Especially as he was born with a predator beasts blood, he was better suited to seeing in dark places than Kline was.

“Awh, what gave it away?” Johan asked.

“Well, you didn’t change your voice. It was clearly you,” Daisy replied.

“Dang. Aldrich, is it true? I was trying my best to sound different.”

“Sir, I regret to inform you these things are correct,” the boy who was named Aldrich replied.

“Well, crap…” Johan muttered as he lowered his head, looking rather downcast.

“May I ask why you called us, sir?” Daisy asked.

“Yes, I need an escort to see the golem fights… well, more hear, but you get my meaning.”

“And your bodyguards, chief?” Gunter asked, noticing a lack of armoured personnel around him.

“Oh, that… don’t tell anyone, but I snuck out of my room. Dang, babysitters may as well lock the door.”

“My Lord, I believe they did,” Aldrich pointed out.

“Yes, but a few bedsheets, and whoosh, here I am,” Johan said with a smirk.

“So you are here without bodyguards?” Bea pressed.

“Yes, and no. I have you kids with me. I understand the Bloody Maiden garners much fear and respect,” Johan explained, gesturing to Tasha.

“I don’t think we can, sir,” Maxwell replied, unwilling to help a visiting dignitary sneak out without guards.

“Come on… my guards won’t know anything. I left a talisman with a stutter cast recording of me repeating prayers on a loop. It will convince them I am still in there… No risk to you kids.”

“Still no sir… not without military escort from your people,” Daisy declared, taking on a more adult role than the seventy-year-old in front of her.

“Ok, Aldrich, come with us. The boy is a squire and thus military.”

“You know that isn’t what we mean, sir,” Daisy replied.

“ARGHHHHHH!!!!! HELP-HELP-HELP!!!!! I’M BEING ATTACKED!!” Johan began to shout out loud stunning the class and Aldrich.

“What are you doing, my lord?” Aldrich asked.

“I am being attacked by those troublesome students… At least that's what I will claim,” Johan replied before returning to his cries for help.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“FINE!!! If you keep quiet, we will take you,” Maxwell declared, seeing no clean way out of this.

“Whoop… thank you,” Johan replied as he lowered his head in thanks. Despite their reservations, the class began to lead Johan with Aldrich in tow towards the biting remark.

“Come on, don’t look so grumpy,” Johan teased.

“Sir, if you proceeded with your scheme to blame us for an attack, we would’ve been executed,” Daisy replied in a huff.

“I would’ve stopped it before that ever happened…” Johan let out a deep sigh. “Kids, I’m sorry I forced your hands with this. I promise anything goes wrong; I’ll take full responsibility. But it can sometimes feel like I’m a bird in a gilded cage,” Johan explained.

“Tell you what everything is on me. Order the most expensive stuff, and I will pay for it to help make up for what I did.”

While this offer did soothe some issues, the class were still uncomfortable with what he had done. Regardless they made their way through a few alleyways and came to the Biting Remark. Making their way inside, the class settled down into Kline’s personal owner's booth, putting Johan in the back middle to stop anyone from getting too close.

“What can I get for yah?” one of the barmaids asked.

“A bottle of your best and most expensive stuff, please,” Johan asked.

“I can do one or the other; dey ain’t synonymous,” the barmaid gruffly replied.

“Best then,” Johan conceded.

“Ok, a batch of Medley Crusade comin’ right up,” the barmaid said as she turned and headed off for the bar.

“Shame it seems we missed the first fight,” Johan muttered, looking sad.

“Yeah, they start early on Saturday nights as more of the public are available,” Kline explained.

“Makes sense, so who is up next?”

“Gadder-Axe versus Humunga-Fist,” Kline replied, pointing to the two golems.

“Sadly, spirits move around golems, so tell me, what do they look like?”

“Gadder-Axe is a copper clockwork golem with a big Axe for a right hand. Humunga-Fist is a clay golem with a humungous left hand.”

“Ah, so the clay golem enjoys a lot of alone time, then?” Johan asked with a childish smirk.

“‘Ere your drinks enjoy,” the barmaid said, returning with an ice bucket containing a bottle with several glasses.

“Thank you, my dear have this as a tip,” Johan said, handing the barmaid a large silver.

The evening progressed as normal, with the two golems slogging it out. Humunga-fist avoiding the slices of Gadder-Axes hand while delivering heavy blows in return.

“Give him the chair!!!” Johan shouted, getting swept up in the mood of the crowd.

“Command understood,” Gadder-Axe replied as the fight paused for Gadder-Axe to retrieve a chair and hand it kindly to Humunga-Fist.

“Tank You!” Humunga-Fist said as he gratefully took the chair, only to smash it over Gadder-Axe’s head. Some of the splinters made their way into Gadder-Axe’s clockworks, causing Humunga-Fist to be declared the winner.

“WHOOOP!!!!! GO HUMUNGA-FIST!!!” Johan cheered, slamming their table a few times.

“Something has occurred to me, sir,” Tasha began. The class collectively held their breaths. Nothing good came about when Tasha began wondering.

“You said something about a bounty with the ‘Deck of Fifty-two’ earlier. I was just wondering what that is?”

“You mean you don’t know?” Johan asked, genuinely surprised as he swept his bandaged gaze over the class as they all shook their heads.

“Typical, to be expected of these people,” Aldrich muttered.

“Let me explain then,” Johan said with a warm, grandfatherly smile as he took a deck of playing cards out of his pocket. Taking cards out of their packet, he swept them across their table. Looking at them, the class could see the numbers were all raised for Johan to know what card was which.

“I’m a professional card player. Can’t read my face when even I don’t know what I have,” Johan joked as he gestured to the cards.

“This is something both our nations do. During wartime, people on each side are assessed and assigned a card. Me, for instance, I am the Ace of Hearts,” Johan began as he brushed his fingers over the cards stopping at the one that represented him.

“Each card has a bounty on it, and a goal during any war is to clear the table of any cards. My bounty, for instance, is one hundred platinum pieces.” The class let out amazed whistles at the staggering sum of money this old man's life was worth.

“The decks are arranged, so the lowest numbers have the lowest bounties but are also the easiest to take down. While correspondingly, the higher the value of the card, the higher the value of the target.”

“What about jokers?” Tasha asked.

“Good question. While separate for the fifty-two cards. They are, in fact, still included, but there is the accepted idea no one will ever claim it.”

“Why’s that?” Daisy asked.

“Simple, they represent the head of state. The Dark Continents' current Joker card is Crozonia. Her bounty at its last update was one hundred and fifty mithril coins.”

The moment this sum was stated, a few of the class experienced what it was like to be a fish and breath fluid. As they coughed and sputtered their drinks back out, they couldn’t help but think over how absurd that amount was. It took one hundred platinum pieces to make a single mithril coin. What Johan had just told them Crozonia was worth fifteen thousand platinum pieces.

“Seriously?!!! That is like the GDP of the entire continent?!!” Maxwell exclaimed in shock.

“Exactly. Nothing less would be worth paying for the head of state. However, it is absurdly high, especially due to her power, influence and so on. No one actually expects a bounty hunter or assassin to claim it.”

“The real ones I worry about are those around the face cards… It's part of why I asked for you kids to be my chaperones,” Johan explained as he ran his fingers over the cards.

“Why’s that?” Daisy asked.

“Because of this,” Johan replied as he picked out the queen of spades.

“Your teacher has a considerable bounty of his own. He is also not strong enough to truly deter anyone seeking it. I worry you children may one day be hurt just by standing near him. Whether from a stray attack or someone trying to get at him.”

“We will be ok. We are tough,” Tasha replied, flexing her arm.

“Will you, though? You have already experienced an assault by one such band of bounty hunters… am I wrong? To experience such things as children is truly terrible. Worse still, he is making you lot into living weapons.”

“Only for our defence,” Bea replied weakly, trying to rebuke what he was saying.

“Defence can quickly become offence, young lady. It becomes all too easy to see an enemy and strike when there is no need to. It is why my job is so difficult. The Theocracy worries, prepares and then has to do something with their preparations.”

“Why do you think Alexander has only made friends with powerful people?”

“Because he went to school with them?” Kline replied unsurely.

“He went to school with many other people. Why not befriend them? Because they don’t serve his purposes. They aren’t strong enough to survive next to him.”

“Why not get rid of the bounties, then? Problem solved,” Daisy replied.

“Believe me; I have tried,” Johan said, releasing an exhausted sigh.

“The problem is many on my side of the fence are scared of your side of the fence. Your side also has bounties on us, and any time I suggest we cancel them, they always cry and stomp, asking why they should do it first. Me helpfully pointing out we started this whole bounty idiocy often falls on deaf ears.” The class looked at Johan, who looked truly exhausted.

The evening drew to a close with little else being said. Johan had given the class a lot to think about, and when the time came, they all made their way back towards the Academy. As they made their way back towards the main road, however, a group of hooded men stepped out, blocking their path.

“You know the drill,” the hooded man who stepped forwards said.

“‘Ey boss, I heard ‘im talking in the Bite, and ‘ee said ‘ee ‘as a bounty of a hundred plats,” one of the hooded figure's friends said, pointing at Johan.

“Oh deary me, you believed that? I was just trying to impress my grandson's friends,” Johan said, putting more of an old man rasp to his voice.

“Normally, I’d believe you, but I wasn’t born yesterday. If I was, I might not remember seeing your face up on stage, and I know the Cardinals have bounties… big ones as well… Well, boys, looks like we will be able to retire after tonight,” the leader of the hooded gang declared as all the men drew shortswords. Stepping between the class and the robbers, Johan spread his arms wide.

“Let them go; you can have me. Just don’t hurt the kids.”

“You think we will let a buncha race traitors go? They have been acting all friendly to the enemy. They will be lucky if we only cut their fingers off.” The hooded leader gave a gesture, and his men all started to approach the class, who were preparing spells ready to fight back.

Before anything could happen, several figures all dressed in black cloaks jumped from the roof above and landed on the hooded men, plunging their blades through, killing them instantly.

“Why did you not prevent these men from approaching us, Mika?” Johan asked, addressing one of the cloaked figures.

“You have caused undue worry to my young companions. Look at them. They have the fear of death in their eyes,” Johan shouted, criticising the people in black.

“Forgive us, my lord, they bypassed our sentry, and before we could divert them away, they sprung their attack,” the cloaked figure named Mika explained, kneeling before Johan.

“Apologise to them, not me,” Johan said, gesturing to the class.

“Forgive our ineptitude,” Mika asked, turning to face the class. At that moment, the clouds parted, allowing the moonlight to trickle down, revealing more cloaked figures than the class realised.

“Sir, who are these people?” Maxwell asked.

“They are my shadows. My real bodyguards.”

“What about the knights?” Daisy asked.

“Mostly for show. Put a bunch of men in heavy armour with fancy titles like ‘Grandmaster Crusader Knight’, and all the assassins and ne’er do wells focus on them, not realising they already have a blade behind their heart.”

“Also, Mika, why did you kill them? I specifically ordered in my defence to use non-lethal attacks where possible.”

“Forgive us, my lord, but the thieves were of a high skill grade, and if we were lax, we would’ve suffered injuries ourselves.”

“Very well, I forgive you,” Johan replied, sighing.

“Well, this certainly has become a real fracas. My little sojourn has caused trouble. As promised to you children, I will take full responsibility. Now, are you children ok?”

“Yessir,” Kline replied as the rest of the class nodded.

“Thank you, children… my women here will deal with the cleanup and aftermath. Let's get back to the Academy before they close the gates.”