Chapter 552

The noise faded as adventurers turned their heads, their eyes dropping to the beasts’ dark, scaled bone plating before rising to the young man at the counter.

The poor clerk stared at the carcasses for a long moment before regaining his professional demeanor. He pulled a silver-rimmed monocle from his vest pocket and stepped around the counter, crouching beside the boars and running a hand over the decapitated stumps.

“These are some smooth cuts," he murmured, tracing the severed vertebrae. “From a very high-level spell to shear through the bone plates like this. They’re thick enough to have been level sixty, at a minimum." He stood and wiped his hands on a rag. "I can offer you two gold pieces for the pair, my Lord, minus the standard Guild appraisal and processing fee.”

Nick rested his forearms on the counter, making sure the golden swords embroidered on his coat and the star-metal medal on his chest were clearly visible. “Three gold. And the Tower does not pay appraisal fees to local guilds.”

The clerk’s eyes darted to the Mage Errant sigil, then swallowed, doing the mental arithmetic, weighing the cost against the risk of offending an emissary of Alluria’s Tower.

“Two gold, ninety-five silver, the five taken for processing,” he agreed smoothly, stepping back behind the counter. He pulled a leather pouch from a lockbox and began counting the coins. "Name for the ledger, my Lord?”

"Nicholas Crowley," Nick said, his voice pitched to carry across the silent room. "Mage Errant of Alluria.”

A fresh wave of murmurs rippled through the gathered adventurers. A few of the older veterans seemed all too aware of what it meant, while others asked about the title.

And just like that, his alibi was planted, recorded, and witnessed by a room full of people. If anyone traced the last movements of every mage of importance in that general area as they looked into the logging camp, they would find official records proving he was hunting in the opposite direction.

Nick took the pouch, nodded at its weight, and dropped it into his ring. He then turned and walked out of the Guild, stepping back into the streets of Trelan without a backward glance.

Normally, he would have liked to take some time to get a feel for the local monsters, talk with the adventurers, and learn about the best hunting grounds, but he was supposed to have been hunting in the area for some time, so that’d just weaken his alibi.

He spent the next two hours wandering through the market district. Although the city lacked Alluria's elite establishments, it still had some interesting shops.

Stone storefronts displayed tools, alchemical reagents, and weapons. Carts rumbled past, laden with raw materials, while people hawked wares from as far as the eastern sea.

Nick’s first stop was a sprawling open-air stall, shielded by a canvas awning. The tables were covered with spell tomes, scrolls, and a smaller selection of ingredient jars.

Hmm, nothing amazing, but it’s good quality. I might as well buy some.

A pretty young woman stood behind the counter, her dark curls tied back with a leather strip. Her eyes were an alluring green, and her sharp gaze swept over Nick’s attire in a fraction of a second. She zeroed in on the Crowley sigil and the star-metal medal, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Interestingly, a skill washed over Nick. It was extremely subtle and didn’t affect him at all, but from the feel of it, he got the sense she’d divined something about him.

"Looking to hunt a specific monster, my Lord?" she asked, her tone light, lacking the rote deference the guards had shown. "Or just hoping to impress someone with your prowess?”

Ah, it’s always fascinating to see other Classes at work, especially when they reach a decent level. She cannot be older than twenty, yet she has already passed level fifty.

With just a glance, she’d gotten a sense of what kind of customer he was. His clothes and sigil should have made her subservient, almost afraid to speak, but he could tell she knew he wouldn’t like it.

Nick smiled back, making sure she knew he appreciated her approach. "I was hoping to find something a little more practical. The Tower has plenty of grand magics, but the subtler stuff tends to get lost in the cracks.”

That wasn’t necessarily true. Alluria’s Tower had a magnificent collection of spellbooks, and he was sure he could find everything he ever wanted to know about mortal spells, but he’d been more concerned with other things in the past.

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She let out a short, bright laugh. "Practicality is rare among your kind. Most powerful mages seem to want only battle magic." She reached under the counter and pulled out a slim volume wrapped in blue velvet. “But if that’s what you want, I have just the thing for you. Water purification, campfire temperature regulation, mending charms for torn fabric—this has it all. The forms are basic, but I’m told the mana efficiency is excellent.”

Nick picked up the book and flipped through the pages. The structure was indeed basic, and none of these spells were necessary for him, but he could tell someone with talent had taken the time to develop it.

If I want war magic, I’m more than capable of developing it myself, but taking these apart and remaking them might make for a good exercise in more leisurely times.

With his training schedule so packed, fitting that in wouldn’t be easy, but he’d make the time. His grandfather always said the basics shouldn't be forgotten, after all.

"It’s interesting," Nick admitted, looking up to meet her hazel eyes. "I’ll take it, and a pouch of your finest chalk.”

"That will be two silver and four coppers," she said, leaning slightly over the counter to give him a good view of her cleavage. "For the goods. The conversation is free.”

She’s actually genuinely interested, and not just putting on a front to sell me up. Pity I can’t stay for too long.

Nick counted three silver coins and gently placed them in her palm, his fingers brushing hers lightly. "Keep the change. Think of it as an investment in our future conversations.”

Her smile widened, genuine and bright. She wrapped the book and the chalk in brown paper. "Safe travels, my Lord. I hope to see you again soon to collect your dividends.”

Chuckling under his breath, Nick vanished the goods into his ring and left. He was talented, wealthy, titled, and memorable, so it wasn’t surprising that some enterprising girl would take a fancy to him, but unfortunately, he was still a bit too young for comfort.

In a few years, I’ll be able to have fun. For now, flirting is enough.

As he continued through the market, he let his senses spread over the city once more, taking it all in at once.

He felt a merchant caravan pulling out of a courtyard half a mile south of him. The wagons were heavily loaded, groaning under the weight of iron ingots, bundles of hardened leather, and tightly sealed barrels of grain.

As he scanned the neighboring stalls, he sensed the blacksmiths weren't forging weapons for adventurers or utility goods, but rather hundreds of ingots and standardized swords. The provisioners packed salted meats and hardtack rather than fresh produce that could have sold for better coin.

Nothing stood out on its own. This wasn't high-end equipment for elite knights, but taken as a whole, it became clear the city was filling a quartermaster’s order with the essentials for a large infantry force.

Again, he was tempted to dismiss it. The war in the north had just ended, so replenishing resources made sense. But it made no sense.

If this had happened in Toneburg, he wouldn’t have batted an eye. Even in Alluria, he could have understood such orders being issued. But in Trelan? He couldn’t see how a noble rich enough to issue such an order, and involved enough in the war, would do so here, when they would get much faster results closer to their land.

While he remembered seeing warriors and lords from all over the Kingdom among the Royal Army, the vast majority had come from the North, while the others mostly sent people to serve as standard bearers.

And if he put that together with Ogden’s warnings about the King’s ambitions, a new picture came into focus.

The Crown was hoarding resources, quietly in the central provinces, away from prying eyes, to fuel a war machine that hadn't officially declared its targets yet.

Well, I’m making some assumptions. It’s technically possible this is just an isolated incident, but my gut tells me I’m right.

Following a trail of stronger emotions, Nick walked into a two-story tavern near the center of the market square, its common room packed with off-duty guards and traveling merchants. He ordered a plate of roasted fowl, some fresh bread, and a cup of watered wine. He took a table near the back wall, watching the room, trying to find what had drawn him here.

His eyes fell on four men standing near a closed door leading to a private room. They wore gray surcoats trimmed in gold and stood with the posture of highly paid enforcers, seemingly relaxed yet ready for violence at any moment.

Their mana wasn’t anything to write home about, but given the average here, being level seventy was quite an accomplishment and gave them the right to feel powerful.

More importantly, he recognized the livery. Gray and gold. The symbols of the Valerius Consortium.

If those people were operating in Trelan, negotiating in private rooms guarded by elite muscle, there was no doubt they were involved in the strange dealings he’d been observing.

Nick made sure to finish his meal and drain his cup at an unhurried pace, and only after he paid and went to leave did he activate the Stillness, folding his mana inward until he became imperceptible.

He slipped between two of the Valerius enforcers, the men completely unaware of his passage, and tuned out the tavern’s noise with a quick wind manipulation.

"...a thirty percent increase in production by the end of the month is a steep climb, Master Coala," said an older, dignified voice.

“The directives are clear, Viscount Aris," a second voice replied, smooth, calculating, and utterly devoid of sympathy. "The Junior Minister expects Trelan to meet the new logistical benchmarks. The Consortium is merely facilitating the Crown's will.”

Nick peered through the crack near the hinges. The room was sparsely furnished. An older man with silvering hair and a tailored, though slightly worn, doublet sat stiffly in a wooden chair. That would be Viscount Aris. Across from him sat two men in elegant robes.

"We had an agreement," Aris countered tightly, maintaining his dignity despite the pressure. "The current quotas for enchanted weapons, raw materials, and provisions are met. My artificers need to support the local economy as well, and the local farms cannot yield a second harvest this season.”

"Agreements evolve, Viscount," Coala said, steepling his fingers. "The Consortium is willing to offer lines of credit to expand your forges if necessary, and we can import raw materials at a fixed rate, allowing you to meet the Junior Minister's expectations without exhausting your current workforce. They will be fulfilled.”

Unsurprisingly, they were setting up a similar trap to the one they’d attempted in Floria. By taking over imports, they could expand further into local business, bring in their own people to supplant them where needed, and eventually have the city in a stranglehold.

At the same time, they seemed genuinely concerned about meeting the quotas, and he could even sense a hint of fear at the thought of failure, which meant something big was really going on and they were just taking advantage to further their aims.

"I will not sell out my family's legacy to cover a sudden deficit," Aris stated firmly, standing. "I will push the forges to increase output by ten percent. That is my final offer. Good day, Master Coala."