Chapter 72 - Struggles and Consequences (2)

While the assassins were planning on how to kill their targets, I spent the morning and afternoon strolling around the streets of Avea. Even if I had a month's time, it would not have been enough time to browse through all the sections of this expansive, major city.

I observed the humans on the streets, most of them walking with purpose toward some destination, others haggling and bartering with merchants, and a few milling around aimlessly like lost lambs.

Nearby, a young black-haired male was striking up a conversation with the woman vendor. His face looked expressive and full of confidence. He was richly dressed and looked to have too much free time in his hands.

“Ah little kitten, you are a rose among roses. What is your name?”

The pretty woman vendor replied back with an annoyed face. “It is Jasmine.”

Their conversation soon became distant voices, mixing with the din of friendly greetings and merchants haggling with each other.

A weapon shop caught my eye. A few steps forward and just as I was about to enter the weapon shop, I was stopped by a small tap on my shoulder. I turned around to see a young male of perhaps eighteen or so. It was the black-haired male who had been flirting with the woman vendor. His advances had most likely been rebuffed.

“Hey!,” he said cheerfully. “You look like a pretty interesting character. How would you like to be my coxswain?”

“Coxswain?”

“Yes, that's right. Coxswain. A wingman, to be precise,” the young man said, emphasizing the word .

His words did not make any sense to me. What in the world was a wingman? Even with my dragon's gift to understand all languages, I could not figure out the meaning of that word. Did he mean for me to become a coxswain, a man who steers boats?

“So do you accept or not, eh?”

“Yes,” I said, wanting to know more about the word. I felt a little curious, my counterpart's influence, no doubt. It was also best to make sure why my dragon's gift for language comprehension was not working.

To my annoyance, I found out after accompanying the man in his many conversations with women, all of them somewhat beautiful or at least good looking.

After his advances had been rebuffed by three women, I had learned that a wingman was someone to support his flirting, an interesting character to further increase his chances. He had chosen me from the many crowds in the streets because of my white hair and other physical traits.

The human soon died after we separated, burned by a huge pillar of flame that had sprouted out of nowhere from the ground. There were two other casualties, an unlucky woman and a man who had been nearby coincidentally. All three ran around like chicken that had their heads cut off, before falling to the cobbled ground, the flames crackling atop their lifeless bodies.

This had caused a street-wide panic and a few guards had shown up instantly, their patrols and vigilance increased due to last night's fire. Other than the three dead, there were no more casualties.

A shame—not really.

I suppose the result was somewhat informative though. I had learned that my gift for language comprehension had limits; it could not comprehend made up words, or strange, uncommon words.

I had also learned something about myself.

My appearance felt off to the human women who had been closely staring at me during our conversations. They had commented that my eyes—disregarding the scarlet hue—were unfeeling. They were like cold, red specks of light. Emotionless and indifferent, with just the barest hint of something alive. Almost dead looking, really. And the way I had moved. It was a ruthless and graceful efficiency. A predator.

Of course, the human women had put it in better, kinder words, but in blunter and simpler terms, this was what they meant. Strange though that my counterpart had never faced that kind of problem. Perhaps he just had more emotions than me. More human than me.

After I got back on track and distanced myself away from the gathering onlookers, I stood at the front of a weapons shop—far away from the scene of trouble and corpses, obviously.

With the thought that I had made the assassins' nightly task more troublesome, I entered the shop. The first thing that hit my sight was rows upon rows of racks, each of them filled with various arrays of weapons. Shortswords, longswords, falcatas, spears, axes, flails, maces, and a variety of other weapons which I did not recognize.

All of the weapons had small price tags attached to them, each one starting from twenty silver coins. The weapons shop was a mess, an unorganized sprawl of weapon racks. Apart from the clutter of common weapons, there were the more expensive weapons. They were expensive looking and the shop owner, along with his two bodyguards, informed me that the weapons were all enchanted by an expert magic enchanter.

There was this one weapon that stood out from the rest, hung on top of the wall behind the counter. It was an enchanted longsword of dark sable color. The weapon was simple, yet elegant, giving out a cold glint.

The weapon, the shop-owner had told me, did not have a price-tag as it was not for sale. The longsword was a memento of all his forefathers and all the shop-owners that had come before him. Its history was priceless, a gift from the dwarves themselves, a race who had suddenly disappeared centuries ago, no longer mixing with the humans.

Most humans, the shop-owner continued lecturing me, did not know or either care about the dwarven race, as they had been too long gone to stay in the memories of humans. We only treated them as legends, the dwarven crafters who had mixed and walked hand-in-hand with us in our lands. It was at the age when the human lands were mostly in the southern region of Valian continent, barely still starting out in what was now known as the central region of the human lands.

I spent the morning and most of the afternoon browsing through the city, while improving my plans on what to do next. Day turned into night quickly as time passed, and I was back in the inn's room. An hour or two later, the three assassin turned up inside my room after a soft knock against the door. All three of them, Gwen, Ilana, and Kal, were breathless as if they had ran for miles and miles.

Dressed in black garments with a baldric, small belts and straps, and many pockets, they presented to me with proof of their deeds. I had not made this a requirement, but they still took it to heart.

Gwen presented me with the bloodied ears of one of the human in the Council of Merchants. Kal presented me with a gouged eyeball, and Ilana presented me with a finger. I told them all to dispose of those parts, as I had no interest in the body parts of humans.

In just one night, three of the seat members in the Council of Merchants had been killed, the fourth seat member being burned to death the previous night by me. The city of Avea was in an uproar by now, no doubt. Its governing body, disregarding the puppet noble, had been mostly eradicated.

Only one out of five seat members remained. It didn't really matter who remained as long as it wasn't Merchant Zafer though. It suited my plans to create chaos and dishevel in Shail Kingdom so that the organization Malice, the Dark Brotherhood, would not see me coming.

It was a good start too, because the Council of Merchants had a far-reaching influence in the kingdom, as it was the organization for almost every merchant in Shail Kingdom. Father and I had been part of it too.

My next plan—creating even more chaos and to carry out my vengeance—involved another assassination.

Shail Kingdom's Guardian of the East, who was known as Baron Gerald Trelmont.

He was the likely suspect after Merchant Zafer in perpetrating my death and father's death. Not that I really cared about my father's death, unlike my counterpart. I only cared because I had suffered death from him, most likely.

After I had killed that baron, my personal vengeance would be completed.

There were only five days remaining until my counterpart's struggling would break free of the chains I had bound him with.

Plenty of time to kill.