Chapter 44: The Black Hand’s Territory

Bloen stirred from the bed with a languid stretch, a woman’s naked form still slumbering beside him. Her ears were slender, longer than a human’s, yet nowhere near the length of his own.

He carefully slid off the bed, pulling on his trousers with deliberate slowness, intent on not disturbing her.

Bloen harbored a deep dislike for humans, especially human women. It was they who had razed his homeland to ashes years ago. For this reason, he had sought out an elf-hybrid, a pursuit that had cost him a considerable sum.

Even so, the faint trace of human blood within her still evoked a profound sense of revulsion.

Bloen drew back the curtains, allowing the soft, pale yellow sunlight to stream into the room. The warmth replenished his energy, and he stretched comfortably, his small eyes surveying the scene below.

Guards patrolled nearly every street, their objective clear: Bloen and Bloa.

Linber, a border town once hailed as the Jewel of Avros, was now steeped in an unsettling atmosphere of panic and chaos.

Linber was not the shortest route back to Saint Fros from Eledis, yet Bloen had specifically chosen it. The Ugurs had recently resumed their marauding activities in the Taelan Grasslands, preying on travelers and settlements.

Bloen had no desire to lose his head.

To his surprise, shortly after he and his brother entered Linber, Mayor Lynch declared a city-wide lockdown, vowing to apprehend the Saint Fros spies.

Heaven knew where Lynch had obtained such intelligence. Perhaps Bloa had inadvertently let something slip? Regardless, returning home anytime soon was out of the question.

Entry and exit from the city now required a pass, and leaving meant certain death.

It mattered little to Bloen. Linber thrived on trade, and such an ironclad blockade would undoubtedly exert immense pressure on the town’s income. It was merely a matter of who could outlast whom.

Bloen climbed back onto the bed, gently kneading the hybrid woman’s cheek, intending to bestow a light kiss upon her.

Suddenly, the door burst open. A handsome, blonde-haired elf rushed in, his face etched with terror.

“I recall teaching you to knock before entering someone’s room, Bloa.”

Bloen froze, his irritation evident as he glared at Bloa.

“Brother, they’re downstairs!”

Bloa stammered, beads of sweat glistening on his face. He was clearly terrified.

“Why the panic?”

Bloen remained entirely unperturbed. He donned his ornate formal attire, a child’s outfit bestowed by Cliff, adorned with a priceless sapphire on its chest. Thanks to this lavish garment, despite his stature as a dwarf, no one dared mock him wherever he went.

“They… they’ll kill us!”

Tears welled in Bloa’s eyes, his towering physique a stark contrast to his palpable fear.

“They won’t. This is Cen Volunta, the ‘Black Hand’s’ territory. He’s Lynch’s benefactor,” Bloen shrugged. “Even if Lynch had a thousand guts, he wouldn’t dare disrupt the Black Hand’s business.”

The clang of armor mingled with the creak of wooden floorboards, the sounds drawing ever closer to Bloen’s ears.

“They’re coming up!” Bloa leaped onto the bed, clutching Bloen’s head tightly.

“Tsk, Lynch, that fool who fears nothing.” Bloen cast a sinister glance at the doorway, already envisioning the faint glint of the guards’ longswords.

“Quick, jump! I’ll cover you.”

Bloen struggled free from Bloa’s embrace, pointing towards the window sill, urging Bloa to make his escape.

They both rushed to the window, but the guards had already burst into the room, their gleaming armor shimmering in the sunlight.

“Brother, you come too.”

Bloa’s bright eyes shone with determination.

“Idiot, only one of us can escape, otherwise they’ll pursue us relentlessly,” Bloen said gravely. “They’ll torture whoever is left behind, and I don’t believe you can endure it.”

The guards behind them began to charge. Bloen quickly turned, and in that instant, Bloa hoisted Bloen up and flung him out the window.

“Damn it! This is the third floor!”

Bloen plummeted headfirst. A fall like this would surely be fatal.

Perhaps death would be a release, freeing him from the burden of revenge.

*Thud.*

Bloen felt a throbbing pain in his head, yet he was conscious. He was still alive!

He opened his eyes to see two beautiful young women before him. The black-haired girl frantically scooped Bloen up—then set him aside.

“Uncle Coachman, are you alright?”

The black-haired girl helped a middle-aged man with a beard to his feet. His face was pale and drawn.

“I’m fine, cough, cough. Just my old bones, you know.”

The middle-aged man massaged his back, as if he might fall apart at any moment. Bloen had landed on him, which explained his survival.

“Who throws things from high up? How uncivilized.”

The silver-haired girl glanced at Bloen, a flicker of confusion crossing her beautiful face.

“Wait, Xina, is that… a person?”

Bloen stared into the silver-haired girl’s crimson eyes, suddenly realizing who he had encountered.

Chloe Raina. This was Cliff’s most favored person, the one Cliff called ‘the King,’ stating that without her, the game of chess would be meaningless.

For Bloen, however, she held an even more significant identity: the Count of Avros.

And the other girl was named Xina, wasn’t she? Dorota had mentioned she was Norria’s former Lady.

Within mere seconds, Bloen analyzed the information about these individuals, quickly pinpointing his objective.

“Good sisters, help me up. I’d like a drink.”

Bloen pointed to a nearby tavern. A few guards had just emerged from it, suggesting it wouldn’t be searched anytime soon.

“Can children drink alcohol?” Xina asked, tilting her head.

“Based on my experience, no,” Chloe refuted. “Children can only have juice or soda.”

Bloen had no idea what ‘soda’ was, but since they clearly didn’t intend to take him to the tavern, he quickly waved his hands. “Anything will do! I’m dying of thirst, sisters!”

“Oh, my aching back,” the coachman groaned, rubbing his spine. “A drink would do me good.”

“Alright,” Chloe nodded. “The tavern should have plain water, and I’d like to check it out myself.”

The tavern was deserted, most of the seats empty save for two staff members sweeping the floor. There was hardly anyone else, a clear consequence of the lockdown.

The bartender eagerly hurried over to serve the rare customers. She had beautiful blue hair and wore a conservative long dress, her deep blue eyes keenly observing everyone.

“Welcome! What can I get for you?”

“Plain water.”

“Apple juice.”

The bartender was momentarily stunned by their requests, but she forced a smile. “Esteemed guests, this is a tavern, not a roadside juice stand.”

“A glass of wine for me, please,” Bloen said, standing on his tiptoes, trying to make himself appear taller.

“You… can drink wine too?”

The bartender eyed Bloen, who was the height of an eight-year-old, with suspicion.

“Never mind, just plain water for me.”

“I’ll have a Bloody Rose,” the coachman straightened up, stroking his beard as he spoke slowly.

Bloen glanced at the coachman. Bloody Rose was a wine often found at noble banquets, a drink Bloen himself had enjoyed many times. He was surprised a mere coachman knew of it.

“Certainly, certainly!”

Upon hearing the name Bloody Rose, the bartender’s smile returned. It seemed she had finally found someone who appreciated fine wine.

The bartender retrieved four glasses, opened a barrel, and filled them with astonishing speed. With a swift turn, she placed the glasses on the table.

“That will be two Shillings and one Faraute. Thank you for your patronage.”

*So expensive?* Bloen’s palms grew sweaty. Two Shillings was a commoner’s monthly income. It seemed he would have to cut down on Bloody Rose.

Xina and the coachman stepped back, leaving Chloe alone at the counter.

“Hey, you two aren’t going to make me pay, are you?”

Chloe’s face fell. Xina rummaged through a crumpled coin purse for a long time, only finding eight Faraute. One Shilling was equivalent to ten Faraute.

“Hmm, it seems we don’t have enough money…”

*The esteemed Lady of Avros is truly impoverished,* Bloen thought. *And they’re so naive, spending so much on wine for a coachman.*

Bloen shook his head helplessly. He pulled three gold coins from his trousers pocket and casually tossed them to the bartender.

“Here’s three Shillings. Keep the change.”

The bartender snatched the three gold coins, frantically kissing the image of Caesar embossed upon them.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you so much, my lord!”

“So rich?!”

Xina’s eyes widened, her mouth forming a perfect ‘O’. Chloe, too, looked at Bloen with surprise.

It was time to unveil the carefully crafted lie.

“Sisters, I am actually the child of a wealthy merchant family from Saint Fros. I originally intended to conduct business in Eledis, but I was mistaken for a Saint Fros spy. My brother was arrested because of it.”

Bloen tried hard to squeeze out a few tears, but none came. His tears had all been shed when his homeland burned to ashes.

“Is it because of the lockdown?”

The bartender looked at Bloen with sympathy, though it was likely more due to his gold.

“Poor child. Lynch has gone mad, imposing a lockdown. I haven’t seen any Saint Fros spies, only my daily customers dwindling!”

“It’s alright, child. We are…”

Xina seemed about to say something, but Chloe quickly clapped a hand over her mouth. Xina shook her head, swallowing the word back down.

“We also wish to meet with Lynch. You can come with us,” Chloe offered.

“That would be wonderful, thank you, sisters.”

*Bloa, hold on. Your brother is coming to rescue you.*

The coachman beside them raised his glass, boldly downing the Bloody Rose. The crimson liquid trickled down his beard, staining it blood-red.

His pale gray eyes glanced at the Caesar’s head on the Shilling, a faint smile playing on his lips.