Chapter 134: Mysterious Investigator

Craig was entirely unsurprised by the lack of covert subtlety displayed by the Naval Inspectors.

There was no professional paranoia or frustration in his reaction; rather, he viewed their blatant surveillance through a lens of cold, practical understanding.

This sprawling deep-sea port was their absolute domain, a high-security military-commercial hub operating under the direct jurisdiction of Governor Aslan Maverick.

Why on earth should they bother moving in shadowy secrecy when they were merely investigating a small group of ordinary, independent foreign merchants passing through their gates?

To the inspectors, Craig and his party were just transient data points on a manifest.

Only a few minutes ticked by before Ser Damian reappeared from the hotel entrance, walking briskly back toward the group to deliver his report.

"The arrangements are set, My Lord," Damian stated, keeping his voice steady and low.

"I have secured a private second-floor room for us to utilize over the next hour. Furthermore, I reserved a secluded table in the hotel’s main dining hall so we can sit down and enjoy a proper meal before boarding."

Craig nodded approvingly. "Good work, Damian. Lead the way."

The four travelers urged their war stallions forward, navigating the congested, bustling maritime streets until they reined in their mounts directly before the entrance of the lodging house.

The establishment was a sturdy, two-story structure constructed entirely from solid grey stones, built to withstand both coastal sea gales and the humid, salty air of the harbor.

As they swung their legs out of the stirrups and dismounted onto the cobblestones, the commotion instantly drew the attention of the hotel staff.

A pair of young stable boys, tasked with tending to the mounts of visiting clients, came rushing eagerly across the courtyard, their faces lit with anticipation.

Craig reached smoothly into his travel pouch, pulling out a handful of small copper coins.

Without a word, he flipped a generous tip of twenty bronze coins to each of the boys.

Their eyes widened in disbelief, and they bowed profusely, rushing forward to take the reins of the massive, high-grade war stallions and leading them away toward the stables with beaming, excited grins.

With their mounts cared for, Craig and his party made their way past the heavy double doors and stepped into the main building.

The interior was warm, smelling faintly of roasted mutton, sea salt, and polished oak.

It was neither completely empty nor overwhelmingly overcrowded; a comfortable, healthy balance of patrons filled the space.

The majority of the occupants were fellow travelers, sailors, and merchants who, like Craig’s delegation, were simply killing time while waiting for their respective vessels to finish loading and prepare for departure.

Craig caught Ser Damian’s eye and gave a subtle nod.

Damian immediately crossed the room toward the front desk, where a young female receptionist was organizing guest ledgers.

Damian reminded her of his prior reservation, and the receptionist’s face lit up with a welcoming smile.

She reached beneath the wooden counter and retrieved a sleek, polished black iron key, handing it over.

Damian accepted the key and turned back to the group, gesturing with a hand toward the winding wooden staircase leading to the upper floor.

"This way, everyone."

As they began making their way across the ground floor toward the stairs, Craig felt an inexplicable prickle of intuition at the back of his neck.

For some subtle reason, he slightly tilted his head, his emerald-green eyes drifting toward the corner of the common room near the front windows.

Seated quietly at a small, isolated table was a black-skinned man.

He wore a simple, unadorned black linen shirt paired with matching dark trousers, and resting casually on the empty chair beside him was a wide-brimmed brown straw hat.

What caught Craig’s attention wasn’t his clothing, but his expression—the man was staring directly at Craig, a knowing, theatrical smile spread across his face.

Craig’s eyebrows instantly furrowed.

The gaze wasn’t the accidental look of a curious bystander; it was heavy, deliberate, and tinged with an eerie familiarity.

Noticing Craig’s sudden physical halt, Ser Hughway instantly snapped his head around, following his master’s line of sight.

The veteran knight’s eyes locked onto the black-skinned man sitting by the window.

Hughway’s brow knitted darkly, and he cast a quick, questioning glance back at Craig.

"My Lord," Hughway murmured quietly, his hand instinctively hovering near the hilt of his broadsword.

"Do you know that man?"

Craig shook his head slowly, keeping his eyes locked on the stranger for a fraction of a second longer. "No. I have never laid eyes on him before in my life."

"Then why is he staring at you with such intense interest?" Hughway asked, a dangerous edge creeping into his tone.

"That," Craig replied softly, turning back toward the stairs as he resumed walking, "is precisely what makes me curious."

Without breaking their stride, the party continued heading upstairs, choosing to completely ignore the mysterious observer for the time being.

However, as they reached the landing, Ser Hughway leaned in closer. "Shall I slip back downstairs, My Lord? I can easily capture him, drag him into a private alley, and interrogate him to find out if he’s an assassin or an informant."

Craig shook his head, offering a calm, dismissive gesture. "No, Hughway. Look around us. The Naval Inspectors and Governor Maverick’s security enforcers already have their eyes locked on our every move.

Creating a public commotion or kidnapping a random civilian inside a crowded hotel right under their noses would only invite unnecessary, compounding complications."

Craig flashed a cold, calculated smile.

"Besides... did you not check the passenger manifests at the dock? That stranger is scheduled to travel on the exact same ship we are boarding.

We will be sharing the open sea with him for days. There will be plenty of time to deal with him when the proper opportunity arises."

Downstairs, the moment Craig and his party vanished up the wooden staircase, the mysterious black-skinned man let out a soft, low exhale.

He picked up his brown straw hat, rose smoothly from his chair, and stepped out of the hotel into the glaring afternoon sun.

He walked at a steady, unhurried pace through the congested, heated market streets of the port district.

The air was thick and oppressive, but the man didn’t break a sweat.

He navigated past clusters of laughing families, haggling merchants, and heavily armed patrol guards without drawing a single suspicious glance.

After turning down a narrow, sun-bleached avenue, he abruptly veered off the main thoroughfare and slipped directly into a secluded, shadowy back alley nestled between two towering stone warehouses.

The moment he stepped past the threshold, the harsh sunlight disappeared, swallowed entirely by the deep, unnatural gloom of the alleyway.

His silhouette seemed to stretch and distort against the damp brick wall.

Flick.

The man’s eyes flickered with a strange, luminescent energy in the dark.

He tilted his head slightly, watching with clinical detachment as his own shadow on the brick wall began to warp, bubble, and fluctuate violently, detaching from natural physics.

"Any news? Intelligence Angel Code: Seraphim" a cold, heavily distorted voice echoed outward directly from the shifting shadows, sounding as though it were being transmitted from miles away through forbidden arcane resonance.

The black-skinned man raised his hand, slowly removing his brown straw hat as he addressed the void.

"Yes," he replied calmly.

"And what is it?" the distorted voice interrogated sharply, pressing for immediate confirmation.

The man stared into the pulsing dark wall, a faint, mocking smile touching his lips. "It appears our target has made his move. The seventh successor is currently heading toward the Kotyr Sea... and based on his current maritime route and permit filings, his ultimate destination is unmistakable."

He paused for dramatic effect before delivering the conclusion.

"He is heading straight for the lawless city of Oman."