Chapter 140: Whispers and Wings
After Luke left the mansion, Raven had lunch with Rebecca and Jacob.
The dining room was initially quiet, filled only with the soft clinking of cutlery and the savory scent of rosemary stew.
Rebecca kept glancing at Raven, sensing something different in his expression.
"You look like you're preparing for something, my lord," she finally said, setting down her fork.
"Is there trouble?"
Raven shook his head gently. "Not trouble—just something I need to handle in person."
Jacob leaned forward, concern etched on his face. "Are you going somewhere, my lord?"
"I'll be gone for a while," Raven said calmly. "A month or two at most. There are matters in Bloodstone City that require my attention."
"Please be careful, My Lord," Jacob murmured, recalling the ambush during their last trip to Bloodstone City.
Raven smiled faintly. "I'll be careful. And I'm not the same as before."
Jacob didn't press further. He understood—Raven had grown a lot over the past few years. That was reassuring enough.
They soon finished their meal, washed their hands, and moved to the main hall.
As they walked, Raven remembered something.
"Once the road construction is complete, tell Luke to begin building the town walls immediately," he instructed, handing Jacob half the money he had withdrawn from the bank.
Then, turning to Rebecca, he said,
"Send a letter to the local mining inspector and ask them to check for gold deposits in the nearby mountains. I've seen old documents mentioning a quartz-rich mountain deep in the Azmar Forest. There were also traces of gold found in riverbeds, but the previous attempt at mining was abandoned due to monsters."
He paused, then added,
"But with our current strength, we should be able to clear the monsters and secure the area for mining."
"Yes, my lord," Rebecca nodded.
"By royal prerogative, gold, silver, and platinum belong to the Crown, regardless of whose land they're found on. But if we obtain a license and formally agree with a Royal-appointed commissioner, we can earn a fixed percentage of the extracted gold."
"I heard a Count partnered with the Royal Chartered Clever Gold Company to mine a few gold veins and earn up to 25% of the refined value. We should try that," Jacob suggested.
"The Royal Chartered companies—like Clever Gold—won't even consider helping us unless we build proper roads and assist with logistics," Raven said with a shake of his head.
"We could instead pay an annual fee to retain mining rights and handle the operations ourselves. Of course, they'll send an inspector to oversee everything. But we could earn up to 30% of the total profit."
The only downside was that if the mine collapsed or there was an accident, the blame would fall entirely on the mine owner.
"First, we should confirm the size of the deposit. We can talk mining methods later," Raven concluded.
Suddenly, he remembered something else.
"Visit the Administrative Department when you have time and ask about the process of reopening the Wine Factory. I also need someone trustworthy to manage everything."
He also knew that Holmes Apothecary, Thomas Book Emporium, The Velvet Millinery, and Dorthey's Confectionery weren't being managed properly—they remained closed most of the time.
"Why not sell those properties?" Jacob asked.
Rebecca shook her head.
"That would be a foolish decision, Sir Jacob. We should buy more shops and factories to generate stable income."
'True. I also need to create an information network. Although I can access valuable intel through the Velvet Eclipse, I can't rely on it forever.'
Raven pondered deeply and came up with an idea.
"Let's create a guild."
"Guild?" Jacob asked, confused.
"Yes. A guild similar to the one Franco works for. Many guilds use inns, hotels, and shops as information gathering points. Why not use a similar method?"
"An information guild? That's a good idea," Rebecca nodded in understanding.
"But we can't let just anyone join, my lord. They'd need years of training. Have you heard of the Cloaks Organization?" Jacob asked.
"Isn't that Archduke Jose's network?" Raven replied. "I heard members of the Cloaks would even commit suicide if caught."
"Yes, my lord. Archduke Jose sent children to special training centers and raised them into loyal informants—some even became assassins. The Cloaks are rumored to operate across the entire Ivory Continent. Creating a similar group would require massive resources, especially human resources."
Raven nodded, understanding the challenge.
'I'll need to gather talent. If I plan to build the Magic Tower I saw in Runeth's memories, I must start laying the groundwork now. Maybe I should establish orphanages in various towns. That would make it easier to recruit and nurture talent.'
He thought for a moment and then said,
"Reopen the factory and start hiring employees to run it. Also, hire educated people to manage the shops. Let Stephanie oversee everything. Once you're done, return to Azmar quickly."
"Yes, my lord," both replied in unison.
Waving his hand, Raven walked toward the split staircase.
He returned to his room briefly and changed into his travel attire: a high-collared black coat with silver trim, tailored for mobility and protection.
After dressing, he touched his face.
His features twisted—his face became rounder, his black hair grew longer, and his eyes shifted to a deep blue. A thin vertical line appeared on his forehead, almost like a scar.
"I should go now," he said, putting on a bowler hat.
The next moment, his figure dissolved into a streak of shadow and vanished.
He reappeared outside the mansion a second later and began walking along Bristol Road.
He made his way through the main road, heading toward the southern borough where the nearest railway station was.
Raven arrived just before the 2 p.m. departure.
The platform was busy—travelers carried bags, crates, and the occasional caged animal. After confirming the schedule, Raven purchased a first-class ticket to Bloodstone City—a journey that would take nearly three days by rail.
As the iron train groaned and steam hissed from the pistons, Raven boarded his carriage and settled by the window. The seat was upholstered in deep green velvet, with a small fold-out desk in front.
…
Bloodstone City, Thornevale Territory.
September 30th, Year 1428.
Raven stepped out of the railway station and spotted a hansom carriage pulling up beside him.
"Need a ride, sir?" asked a young man in his twenties, tipping his hat.
"Glory Wine Inn, Aurora Street," Raven said, hopping in.
The carriage rolled through busy streets, turning corners before arriving at its destination.
The Glory Wine Inn stood tall on the corner of Aurora Street, its faded crimson bricks glowing in the amber hue of the setting sun.
Raven stepped out casually, but his eyes were sharp beneath the brim of his bowler hat.
He paid the driver without a word and entered the inn.
The moment he crossed the threshold, the noise of the city vanished.
Warm candlelight flickered across the walls. Oak beams arched overhead. Long wooden tables were filled with weary travelers, merchants, and a few off-duty police officers.
He moved to the counter and tapped twice.
"One single on the second floor. No disturbances," he said.
The innkeeper, a balding man with a mole under his left eye, gave a respectful nod.
"Room 204. Stairs to your right. Dinner's served until midnight," the man replied, handing him a silver key.
Without delay, Raven climbed the creaking wooden stairs and entered his room.
It was modest—just a bed, a washbasin, a small table, and a window overlooking a narrow alley behind the building.
Raven removed his shoes and lay on the bed, picking up the folded newspaper on the table.
'No major news…'
He flipped through the pages and paused on page six.
"Oh? Here it is."
The headline detailed Lucus Thornevale's large expedition into the Great Hillcrow Woodlands.
'One week left for the expedition, huh?' Raven furrowed his brows.
With his current strength, joining a large-scale expedition led by a legendary powerhouse like Lucus Thornevale would be suicide.
'But the expedition's headed to where the Agith Rune is located. They also encountered Mind Worms there last time... If I'm lucky, I might retrieve another artifact.'
He pulled out a compass from his inventory.
'Still pointing east.'
Nodding, he put it away and decided to rest.
…
Evening came. Lights flickered on throughout the inn.
By 7 p.m., the common room below buzzed with conversation, laughter, and the occasional shout.
Raven descended the stairs slowly, blending in with the crowd.
He found a corner seat with a clear view of the entrance and the stairs and ordered roasted duck with honey-glazed carrots and a pint of dark ale.
As he ate, he observed.
The waiters moved efficiently, weaving between tables. Most were young men and women in white shirts and brown vests. At a glance, they looked ordinary.
But Raven didn't rely on appearances.
One waiter caught his eye—a slim man with sharp features and short brown hair. On his right wrist, just beneath his sleeve, was a small tattoo of a sparrow in mid-flight.
Raven narrowed his eyes.
'The same sparrow symbol I saw in the dungeon…'
As the waiter passed by again, Raven raised his mug slightly.
"Excuse me," he began casually. "You wouldn't happen to know where I could find fire-baked rye here in Bloodstone, would you? Haven't had any since my last visit."
The waiter paused, puzzled but polite.
"Fire-baked rye, sir? Can't say I've heard of it."
"Oh? Shame. Last time I came through, there was a bakery down in Greymarket that sold it. A man with a crooked nose and a missing finger ran the place. I assumed it'd still be around."
The waiter forced a smile. "Sorry, sir. Maybe try the bakeries near Southwatch? I can check with the cook if you'd like."
Raven touched the monocle and checked his status.
'An Elite Member of Sparrow?'
He waved a hand. "No need. Just testing memory. You look like someone from the northeast. Are you a foreigner? Viser?"
That earned a small, almost imperceptible reaction—a slight left eye twitch. His hand gripped the glass tightly before loosening it.
But the waiter recovered quickly.
"I'll bring your dessert in a moment, sir," he said with a polite nod, then turned to leave.
Raven spoke softly, just loud enough for the waiter to hear.
"Do you know anything about a golden jar with a sparrow symbol engraved on it?"
The waiter froze for a moment, then hurriedly walked away.
Raven leaned back, his mind already spinning.
'This guy knows something.'
He watched the waiter disappear through a door marked Staff Only. A minute later, a different waiter brought dessert.
Raven took a bite—a soft custard tart layered with syrup and powdered sugar. The sweetness lingered on his tongue briefly, then a strange lightness spread across his skull. It wasn't dizziness in the usual sense. No nausea. No vertigo. Just… a loosening. Like his mind had stepped half out of his body.
His pupils narrowed.
'This feeling… I know it.'
Not poison.
'Miraclo.'
The moment the name surfaced in his memory, everything clicked. It was the same drug Scott had forced him to consume in the dungeon.
'It brings back the old memories. So, Sparrow is linked to Vipers?'
It was known to dull critical thinking, amplify suggestion, and trigger hallucinations in weaker minds. Fortunately, Raven had long since adapted to most poisons and mental toxins thanks to his poison immunity.
Still, he played along.
He blinked slowly, letting his eyes drift out of focus. His breathing quickened. A faint stagger followed as he placed a silver tip on the table.
Without a word, he rose from the chair and walked unsteadily toward the stairs—but at the last second, turned and headed out the front door.
The evening air hit him like a soft slap. The street outside was already swallowed by dusk, the flicker of lanterns bobbing in the gloom as carriages rolled past. The warm yellow glow didn't reach far into the alleys, leaving most of the street cloaked in darkness.
Raven weaved along the cobbled road like a drunkard. A few pedestrians gave him a passing glance before moving along. Then, as if on cue, he doubled over and vomited into a roadside drain.
A faint, acidic stench rose in the air.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and staggered into a nearby alley. It was narrow and steeped in silence, brick walls towering on either side.
Raven let himself fall near a stack of broken crates. His breathing grew louder. He clutched his chest, shivering like a man caught in a nightmare.
Then came footsteps from the direction Raven had come.
It was soft, hesitant, and deliberate.
From the alley entrance, a glow approached—orange and flickering.
It was a lantern.
Raven didn't move. His head lolled against the wall, eyes half-lidded, breath raspy.
A familiar figure emerged before him.
It was the same slim waiter. The lantern in his left hand cast long shadows behind him, and he held a kitchen knife in his right.
The man's expression was unreadable.
He crouched near Raven and tilted his head.
"You should've gone to your room, friend," he said softly. "Would've been easier."
Raven exhaled, still feigning weakness.
"I just asked… about the golden jar," he whispered hoarsely. "Didn't think that was a… death sentence."
The waiter chuckled, his voice like silk drawn across glass. "You asked the wrong question in the wrong place. Now—where did you see the golden jar?"
He raised the knife and stabbed it directly into Raven's thigh.
…