Chapter 2290 - 96: An 'Invitation

"Owl?"

Sicape waited a long time before she dared step out of the crowd and approach the man sitting in seat number three.

The man was wrapped in a thick coat, making it hard to tell who he was from behind. Only when he heard Sicape's voice did he turn around. But the face revealed to her was one that seemed somewhat unfamiliar.

"Mr. Owl has been targeted by those people," it was a rather young face: pale skin, slightly curly hair, gray-green eyes—obvious Slavic features. "Miss Sicape, we've met once before, in Liege. Do you still remember?"

Sicape calmed down.

"You were the messenger back then?"

The young man nodded.

"The Captain wanted you all to avoid contacting each other as much as possible. I was the one delivering messages at the time."

"Yes, I recognize you," Sicape replied. "How is the Captain?"

"He's fine, but he's very busy lately. It may be a while before he gets in touch with us."

"I understand what he means."

Sicape turned away, looking out through the restaurant's transparent curtain-wall, where light and shadow from the advertisements overlapped. This was the Airport's busiest area; streams of arriving passengers were pouring in along several artificial piers. Especially since the start of this month, the arrival frequency of cargo and passenger ships had clearly increased.

She watched in silence for a while, then turned back and asked, "So Owl isn't coming?"

"No, Miss Sicape," the young man answered, a little stiffly. "In fact, we should keep our meeting as brief as possible." As he spoke, he glanced at the time displayed on his personal terminal.

Sicape gazed into his eyes, silent for quite some time, before asking, "Is the information Owl provided true?"

"That staff member who died in the Airport not long ago—that Snakehead—he really was involved with that matter...?"

...

When Fang Hong stepped out the door, he happened to see the teenage Magic Swordsman from his team coming up from the turn of the stairs, holding a wooden box in both hands, walking at an unhurried pace. Fang Hong quickly called him to a stop, pointed at the box, and asked, "What's that?"

Xiangzi lowered his head to look at his box and answered, "A sword."

"A sword?"

Xiangzi gave a look of "exactly" and nodded.

"You bought it?"

"No, someone gave it to me."

"Someone gave it to you?" Fang Hong was a bit surprised, but more than that, suspicious. He asked reflexively, "Who?"

Xiangzi halted, thought carefully for a moment, and only then managed to recall the name. "Istrael," he said, then carefully confirmed it once more. "Istrael."

Fang Hong slapped his forehead, realizing that asking like that was as good as not asking at all. "I mean, what's his identity?"

"Seems to be the owner of a bread shop."

"So a bread shop owner gave you a sword?"

"Yes."

"Then what did you do for him?"

Xiangzi thought about it again, felt he hadn't really done anything for the man, and so shook his head.

"..." Now Fang Hong was completely baffled. He'd assumed Xiangzi had completed a commission and received a reward—something at least understandable. But what was this supposed to be? They had just arrived, knew no one in this place; on what grounds would someone, out of nowhere, give Xiangzi a sword?

"So this bread shop just opened today, and this is some grand-opening promotion?"

Xiangzi shook his head. "No."

Fang Hong hadn't really expected that anyway. After all, who would be dumb enough to use swords as freebies for a bread shop's opening promotion?

"Then do you know this bread shop owner?"

Xiangzi shook his head again. "Don't know him either."

"All right," Fang Hong sighed and pointed at the box. "Let me see this sword."

Xiangzi didn't refuse. He opened the lid. The wooden box was lined with silver Elf Satin, upon which a rapier lay flat. The sword was about arm-length, sheathed, its whole body dark, and the hollow-work cage hilt was exquisite enough to be a piece of art.

Fang Hong was a little surprised. Leaving aside the sword itself, the Elf Satin lining the box was already extremely valuable. It was a unique ancient craft of the Elves, produced only in Avenquin and the southern Giant Tree Hill.

He wasn't about to make the mistake of buying the case and returning the pearl. When the padding used for the sword was already this pricey, how could the sword itself be anything ordinary? Of course, it was possible someone was deliberately creating that impression, but if that were the case, it felt a bit like overkill.

Because what reason would they have to go to such trouble?

He had more or less thought this was some clumsy scam, but now it seemed the cost of the scam was awfully high. A high cost didn't mean it wasn't a scam—it could also be that the other party was after something much bigger. Fang Hong didn't consider himself a conspiracy theorist, but after getting burned so many times, he at least needed some sense of caution.

He couldn't help walking to the stairwell and looking down, afraid that a squad of Guards might suddenly appear and accuse them of having stolen some Noble's ancestral heirloom or something.

But in the hall below, people were coming and going. Though the noise was loud, there didn't seem to be any commotion. A few Knights of the Crow's Claw Sanctuary were there questioning a Guest—but they had been stationed at that spot since early on, hardly anything out of the ordinary.

Only then did Fang Hong walk back and ask Xiangzi again, "Have you used this sword?"

He was starting to suspect it might be some kind of cursed item.

Xiangzi thought for a moment and answered, "I can't use it."

"What do you mean?"

"The sword's rusted. I can't draw it."

"Rusted?" Fang Hong seriously doubted that claim. No matter how he looked at it, this well-maintained sword didn't seem rusty at all. He picked up the sword and pulled hard, but sure enough, it didn't budge an inch, as if the blade were jammed solid inside the Sword Sheath.