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Chapter 45

Numisley and Cultrost were both thrown into the dungeon within the castle. The Count of the Commerros looked down upon them. He stared at them with derision and disappointment.

“What do you mean we committed a crime?” Numisley demanded answers.

“Like I said.” Torresso sneered. “You are charged for committing a massacre in the village of Dousso and the attempted theft of government funds.”

“Bullshit!” Cultrost spoke in his mother tongue.

“The Duc was right. I should not play with my food. I should thank him for giving me this opportunity.” The Count uttered. “Now, where is the book? The Book of Secrets your traitorous father collected.” Torresso interrogated.

“We’re not telling you.” Numisley defied.

“I really thought that you two would be helpful to me, you know. Even if you tried to conspire against me. So I will give you this last chance. Tell me where it is, and you shall be spared from the Duc’s wrath.”

“Numisley…” Cultrost whispered.

“Nothing short of giving me the right to claim my heritage would convince me.” Numisley spat out, much to his surprise. “W-what?”

The Count sniggered. He seemed to have done something with Numisley with an unseen Feat.

“Do not underestimate me. I need not torture you like a [Barbarian] to get what I want. But I shall deal with you two later. I got more pertinent business.”

The Count left them in the dungeon, assigning three [Guards] to watch their cell.

-

The Count emerged from the hidden stairs that led to the dungeon. He headed towards his spouse’s chambers and knocked.

“Strraina.”

His spouse opened the door. Torresso was greeted with the sight of her wearing a pale green dress, his eyes drifting towards the frills of her collar.

"I arranged a wagon for your trip."

"Thank you, my lord."

"I hope you will enjoy yourself. I'm afraid I still have to work. There is a lot to do, my lady."

"I understand."

In the first place, he had pulled some favors so that his wife would be invited to the gathering held by one of the extended families of the Gaviolos House. It had helped that her wife was acquainted with some of the [Ladies] there. She would stay about a week there for her safety.

His wife was escorted by the [Guards] of the castle. The Count watched as she entered the wagon and disappeared down the castle's ramp. He was relieved when he saw the tiny moving green dot emerge from the gatehouse that led inland. Now, she will be safe from the chaos that will come soon.

He was already moving towards the audience hall to receive his guests. He walked into the furnished audience room and sat on his wooden throne. With a wave of his hand, he activated the room's anti-eavesdropping magic.

Three figures had been escorted by the castle's guards. Out of the four, there are two non-Humans, their incongruous features covered up as the law demanded. They all knelt to the Count of Ovespuerte, even if most were foreigners. These were the available people with mighty Feats and Roles that were suited for the job, with some of them being previous associates. Torresso promised these three individuals different rewards, making sure that they were appeased by his promises while avoiding giving them too much.

“Stand up.”

They stood up in imperfect unison at the command of the Count as if a great weight had disappeared in the audience hall.

“I had called upon your talents for a critical mission. The fate of House Commerro hangs on the precipice. You have read my missives. And I confirm that, yes, I will reward each of you and your people personally and handsomely.”

“Who are we fighting, exactly?” The man with braided green hair is the first to boldly ask the Count, treating him as more of an equal than the rest of the people here. He gripped a halberd with an azure-tinged blade, its shaft wrapped in scrolls bound with magic.

“The [Captain] named Johoon, the ‘Silver Leg’.” The Count acknowledged him. “If any one of you kills him, you will all be rewarded. I shall petition your claim to your rightful lands of Haelsli and reinstate your noble title, Thel.”

“It will be done,” Thel said.

“My monastery will gladly smite him with our sacred lead.” The hulking figure spoke. He wore a battered metal mask that covered his slimy, horrendous face, yet those beside him felt his anger when the Count mentioned the target. The rest of his body was hidden within the worn robes that he wore to cover the rest of his body from the sun and the gaze of the Count.

Torresso’s eyes turned to the hooded, petite figure beside the hulking, robed non-Human wearing a metal mask. It was not the Guildmaster of [Assassins] that he was expecting since he could see that she was a young girl and not the elusive Beastkin that even his eyes could not perceive fully.

“Who are you? Where is your…First Claw?” Torresso asked the young girl with a note of uncertainty.

Her piercing feline eyes behind her brown veil stared at the Count.

“He is currently assembling the rest of our [Assassins]. I was ordered to relay his words to you.”

“I see,” Torresso stroked his chin. “Tell me his words, errand girl, and you will be dismissed.”

The girl unfurled a scroll from her robe.

“He said: Count Torresso. You are paying my Assassin’s Guild a fortune to kill a [Captain] of Diamond Shore, a lord of the sea. Know this: if your plan fails, we will not fall with it. Consider your partnership forfeit at the end of this assassination, success or not.”

The girl had read it verbatim. Her fingers started to sweat. Torresso gripped the armrest of his throne tightly. The thought of beheading this [Assassin] for the Guildmaster’s slight had simmered his mind, but he knew he was no [Barbarian].

“Send him my regards,” Torresso said after a minute of deliberation. “You are dismissed.”

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The girl performed a curt bow before disappearing from his sight. Immediately after she left, someone kicked the door, which startled the [Guards] guarding the door. It was a hulking Dragonkin of sharp green scales with a long snout that made him resemble a crocodile.

Although he did not wear armor, only a flowing green toga with square snaking patterns of his faraway homeland, the [Guards] aren’t sure that their mere enchanted polearms could scratch his scales. Even without using the blue, crossed-bladed spear at his side, his eyes still pierced the Count's silent gaze on his throne.

“You are late, Seklrex of Vanderas.” The Count scolded the brash foreign [Spearmaster].

“Well, sorry.” Seklrex shrugged, unbothered by the Count’s intense stare. “I was in Iquelica with my employer until he sent me here. The Scalelord wants–”

“–The trade deal, yes. Twice the price for Vanderan goods if you slay the Silver Leg.”

“And a chest of gold for me.” Seklrex continued. “I heard that the Silver-Legged Captain of Diamond Shore is strong. This shall be a worthy fight.”

-

Aryyad welcomed the troop of [Mercenaries] in the warehouse that he rented for the duration of his stay in Torregorn. The building is thrice as wide as Gildin Trading's headquarters. Milling about were Aryyads [Laborers], some of them Rhino Beastkin, carrying the crates from one of his three ships in the harbor.

"Graten, was it?" Aryyad turned to the [Mercenaries]. "I will pay you thirty silver coins a week while Numisley and Cultrost are gone."

"Are you going to free those boys?" Palden interrupted.

"I will certainly try. I will try to make an audience with the [Count]." Aryyad reassured. "I'm willing to pay you, in particular, two gold a week."

"Two gold?" The [Mercenaries] murmured.

"Palden here is the most valuable asset of your company. He has more Rare and Epic Feats than you all combined." Aryyad held Palden's shoulder. "If you all wish to stay here with me after I free Numisley and Cultrost, I will allow it. Of course, you can leave now if you wish. "

No one, not even Palden, wanted to leave. They have to earn money somehow.

"You will start tomorrow, then. You can rest within your inn in the meantime. I will pay for that, too."

"Please, sir. You don't need to do that." Palden said, making the other [Mercenaries] glare at him.

"I insist. You can go now."

"Thank you, sir."

The men of Gildin Trading left the warehouse. Aryyad gestured to his [Load Supervisor]. The heavy-set anthropomorphic rhino wearing a sleeveless cotton vest lumbered towards his boss.

"Treat them well tomorrow, Sahif."

"Yes, boss."

Aryyad headed to his quarters within one of his dhows moored in Ovespuerte. His personal ship was larger and more adorned than the other two ships that he owned. The majestic prow of the blue boat was adorned with a golden horn.

After climbing the gangplank and the deck, he arrived at his personal quarters, his captain's quarters. Compared to many [Captains], his quarters were humble. A single window lit the room, the sinking sunlight shining on the wooden dividers that lined his bathroom, his velvet couch padded with many pillows sewn from his homeland, and his desk bolted on the ship.

Bolted, too, are the two shrines in a secluded portion of his quarters. He pulled out the tiny sack of thin, needle-like fish bones. He ceremonially poured them into the stone bowl within the coral shrine of the second Prophet of the Goddess of Lemuria, reciting a litany of gratitude to the sea's bounty as he listened to its mysterious chimes that sang with the rhythm of the idle waves. He simply placed a golden coin on the other shrine and laced his digits around the quartz fingers of the Invisible Hand, a god of trade worshipped by a few wandering [Traders].

"May the next deal be successful. Fortune be mine by your guiding hand."

Aryyad recited an informal prayer in his native tongue, taught to him by another [Merchant] of the Golden Triangle, whom he learned that he had died at sea a day after he moored at Torregorn. He grabbed a book from his bookshelves and read to pass the time.

An hour later, when the bell tower rang for the setting of the sun behind the Black Border and the rise of the white line that illuminated the Six Lands' tallest peaks, one of his crewmen knocked on his door. He remembered that he was supposed to speak to two people tonight.

"Barqai of the Sebriz Tribe wishes to speak to you."

"Give me a wick..."

He pulled himself out of his sleepy stupor and dusted his clothes. He covered his curly ginger hair with his usual headdress and bound it with one of his agals hanging on the coat rack beside him.

"Enter."

A feathered figure entered the room, almost naked except for a scabbard on his side and the glint of hidden blades tucked within the red and yellow feathers of his wing-arms, naked in the sense that most Beastkin do not need clothes. Yet he is not a Beastkin from Lemuria but another foreign species, calling themselves the Garuda.

"Peace be."

"Be blessed."

Although they spoke in different Nabraqi languages, they still understood the spirit of the most famous Lemurian greeting. The Garuda sat on the prepared bench, delicately resting his wing-arms on his avian legs. With a word of command, he activated the Amulet of Tongues that he wore, enabling him to properly speak his pertinent message.

"It will be another moon before my [Chieftain] calls the rest of the flock back to the roosting lands."

"Would you like a cup of chai? "

"I would love to have some dates instead."

Aryyad stood up and grabbed a jar of dates stored in a chest. Barqai received the brass jar and proceeded to grab a date and swallow it whole.

"What is your news?"

"I have found the Spymaster's sons."

"Sons?"

"Numisley and Cultrost Gildin, Naveirei rather, except for the Satyr. The older Satyr is his adopted older brother."

"And what of the brown book of Feats and Roles?"

"I do not know. It is impossible to contact them right now since they are jailed in the Count's dungeon."

"I'm sure the [Shiekh] will be disappointed."

"I will find a way. With the influence I built over the Trials, I'm sure I could convince the Count."

"Would I relay that back to Zelewurves?"

"Not yet. Within the moon, I shall free him. I'll inform you as always."

Barqai left the quarters after that meeting, and soon enough, he let the other person in his quarters. It was one of the local [Informants], with an identity concealment Feat that makes Aryyad misremember his face. He initially wanted to hire the best in Ovespuerte, a Dwarf named “Thewardn,” but he later learned that he disappeared after the sudden scouring of [Informants] within the port city. Few of his profession were brave enough to stay after that.

“The Count had invited the ‘Silver Leg’ to his castle for a trade deal. The Cabal of Claws was hired within Ovespuerte. A traveling group of armed [Monks] was spotted around the castle. The Parting Tide of Vanderas was also spotted barging into the castle this morning, and the former [Lord] of the Haelsli lands, Thel Kaminor of the Promised Writ.”

Unlike the Garuda from earlier, the Human went straight to business.

“There is a link, isn’t there?”

Aryyad asked after hearing about these mysterious people that had suddenly arrived in Ovespuerte. He knew that the hired adventurer [Spearmaster] of the Vanderan delegation was in neighboring Iquelica. He heard of Ulron, the [Court Mage] of the previous [King] of Torregorn. The “Cabal of Claws” was an Assassin Guild from Lemuria that he was intimately acquainted with.

The anonymous [Informant] stayed silent as if expecting something.

“Right.” Aryyad flicked a gold coin towards the [Informant], which he caught with his left hand.

“A Rare or Epic Feat or several favor-type Feats were used to call upon those groups. It is likely that the Count is going to assassinate the [Captain] of Diamond Shore.”

“That’s crazy. Preposterous, even! Killing one of the [Captains] of the Diamond’s Shore would surely elicit a response! Goddess sake, it’s like murdering a Sheikh!” Aryyad ranted. “When is that [Captain] going to the castle?”

Aryyad flicked another gold coin towards the [Informant], who didn’t catch it perfectly. It tumbled on the ground before the [Informant] picked it up.

“Most likely, tomorrow.”

Aryyad rubbed his temples.

“Thank you,” Aryyad said. “I’ll head straight to his ship. I got a deal to make.”

Before Aryyad left his ship, he fervently prayed to the shrine of the Invisible Hand. He felt a subtle grip on his shoulder in an instant when he stood up.

[Miracle - Blessing of the Silver Tongue, obtained.]