Chapter 21: Tracking
Perhaps the God of Knowledge and Wisdom truly had blessed Enber, because his very first charm-making ritual was a success. Using the remaining Manhas Monkey brain slices, he even managed to produce two more brass charms.
At seven in the evening, carrying all five charms, Enber accompanied his mentor to the gathering held in the apartment behind the Braveheart Bar. This time, he didn't need a passphrase. He simply found a comfortable seat and waited for the other attendees.
By half past seven, people began to arrive. Among them was the lady who had purchased the "Seer" formula from him—code-named Poisoned Rose. His mentor had said she held some influence and had deep pockets. Another familiar face was the woman who specialized in selling Beyonder weapons, known as "Artisan's Agent."
There were others too—names like "Black Snake" and "Spider"—all dangerous individuals Isengard had warned him about. Any one of them could lose control at any moment.
At exactly eight, Detective Isengard, now disguised as the "Eye of Wisdom," scanned the masked faces gathered around. Chuckling, he said,
"Quite the full house tonight, with a few new faces as well. Welcome, everyone. Let's begin."
The "Artisan's Agent" started off the introductions. "I have two Beyonder weapons for sale, both easy to carry.
"One is the Frost Claw. It grants the wielder enhanced healing, a minor boost to strength and reflexes, and a significant increase in agility. On hit, there's a fifty percent chance of inflicting a mysterious poison, and a fifteen percent chance of freezing the opponent."
"These effects have been verified with extensive testing."
"It will remain effective for another year. Price: four hundred and fifty pounds, or exchange for a Barbarian formula."
That Frost Claw sounds impressive… likely crafted from Mutant Pathway materials. If not for its short lifespan, it would be worth far more.
Someone asked, "Any side effects?"
"Yes. Under a full moon, the wielder loses some rationality—though their strength increases significantly," the woman replied smoothly, before continuing,
"The second weapon is a Cane Sword. It looks like a regular ironwood cane with gold inlay, but with the Ancient Hermes word for 'Draw,' it transforms into a ninety-five-centimeter Loen officer's sword.
"As a cane, it has no powers, but it's heavy, sturdy, and hard to break. As a sword, it enhances strength and agility and slightly mitigates certain supernatural effects."
"This weapon has almost no side effects apart from its weight. But it will revert permanently to cane form within six months. Asking price: one hundred and eighty pounds."
The room was far more interested in the Frost Claw. Several people bid on it, and in the end, Poisoned Rose bought it for five hundred and fifty pounds.
Meanwhile, Enber found himself drawn to the Cane Sword. Not because he couldn't afford the Frost Claw, but because the sword was simply more practical. Revolvers were useful only if you hit your target, but a weapon that enhanced strength and agility paired perfectly with his growing combat skills.
"Cane Sword, one-ninety!" someone called before Enber could act.
Startled, he quickly followed, "Two hundred pounds!"
The previous bidder shrugged after a pause. "All right, it's yours."
Enber suspected he had just been tricked by a planted bidder, but he went through with the purchase anyway. His mentor later confirmed the sword's effects were legitimate.
Handing over two hundred pounds hurt—his savings dropped to only two hundred and thirty-three. Most of that had been preserved thanks to his mentor covering daily expenses and ritual costs.
Looks like I'll need to sell a few charms to recover some funds, he thought.
With that in mind, Enber retrieved three of his brass charms and announced, "Confusion Charms. When activated, they induce a one-to-two-second mental disruption in the target. Even mid-Sequences will feel disoriented. Duration: six months. Price: thirty pounds each. I have three."
He had chosen the name "Confusion Charm" deliberately. It sounded more impressive than "Overload," and clearer for those who might struggle to grasp mystical jargon.
Just as his mentor predicted, they were popular. Poisoned Rose bought one for fifty pounds, Black Snake took another for forty-five, and a newcomer—introduced by Kaspars, much like Enber had been—purchased the last for fifty-five.
After pocketing one hundred and fifty pounds, Enber felt financially secure again—at least until the subsequent trades of Sequence 7 main ingredients reminded him how meager his means really were.
When the gathering ended, Enber didn't return home with his mentor. Instead, he detoured back to the Braveheart Bar. Having encountered what he suspected to be Miss Sharon's wraith earlier that day, he wanted to ask Kaspars for clarification.
Kaspars, as usual, was engrossed in his drink and seemed to have anticipated his arrival. Without waiting for Enber to speak, he said, "She has no ill intent toward you. In fact, she even erased traces you left behind. If you have more questions, Maric is in the second card room. He and his friends are in there playing cards."
Enber froze mid-step, realizing Kaspars had just answered his unspoken question. Clearing his throat, he whispered, "Since when do you associate with people that dangerous?"
Kaspars paused, cue hovering over the billiard table. "My competition recently gained powerful backing. I needed someone to counter them." There was a trace of helplessness in his voice. Enber sighed inwardly. Nothing is easy for anyone in this city. And here I am, still too weak to protect myself, let alone anyone else.
'As for asking Maric…' Enber didn't even consider it. What could he possibly achieve against a Sequence 5? Even Klein had only won the Temperance Faction's respect after defeating a Sequence 5 expert.
After a brief game of billiards, Enber left the bar and made his way to Grant's clothing shop in Cherwood Borough.
He lingered near the corner by the shop for five or six minutes before spotting a figure sneaking out. The man glanced about nervously before heading southeast.
"That figure… it really does look like Mr. Grant." Enber trailed him at a reasonable distance. He keeps looking around, clearly afraid of being caught. Yet he has no idea how to shake a tail. He hasn't even noticed me following so closely…
But then, at a dark four-way intersection, Enber abruptly lost him. The thick Backlund fog smothered what little moonlight there was, leaving visibility almost nonexistent.
'I might not know how to shake a tail, but clearly my tracking skills are terrible…' Feeling embarrassed, Enber picked a random direction. After several streets without catching sight of Mr. Grant, he had to admit defeat.
"Well, that's embarrassing. Good thing Jane and Xio don't know," he muttered, before sighing and heading to Detective Isengard's home in Hillston.
"So, no clues? Were you caught?" the detective asked, amused by his student's dejected face.
"Neither… it was just too dark. I lost him," Enber admitted awkwardly.
"Looks like you'll need a crash course in investigative skills, on top of mysticism training," Isengard said with a puff of his pipe. With skills like these, how can he call himself my student?
Enber had no rebuttal. But a new thought came to him. Even if he started detective training now, he wouldn't have results in time to report back to Jane. He needed another plan.
The next morning, at their usual East Borough café, Enber met with Xio and spoke seriously. "Xio, could you help me with something?"
"What is it?" she asked without hesitation.
"I need you to track someone for me tonight around eleven. I need to know where he goes and what he's doing."
(End of Chapter)