Tasa entered a tavern, where the stifling heat and dampness mingled with the aroma of wine.
In the dimly lit room, the men stripped off their shirts, their backs drenched in sweat, and sat around the central table, gulping down cheap beer while chatting loudly with their companions. Maids in revealing outfits moved between the tables, refilling the guests' glasses.
He glanced around briefly and spotted his target—a short man sitting inconspicuously in the corner, with a withered wild rose on his desk.
Tasa made his way to the bar and ordered a beer. He savored the bitter taste slowly, scanning the room for any potential surveillance of the short man. The observation proved satisfying—while occasional glances did drift toward the corner, most were accidental. Only the person seated at the central table, using the glass as a cover, kept a watchful eye on the shadows.
The Black Street rats 'routine of one person handling the connection while another keeps watch matches Tasa's understanding.
"Another drink," he called to the waiter, "with ice." "Sir, iced beer costs twice as much," the waiter reminded him.
Tasa tossed a silver wolf, "The colder, the better." Holding the glass that steamed with white mist, he approached the short man and poured the beer onto the wild rose by the table. The icy liquid trickled down the curled petals. The man looked up, his face showing impatience. "Why are you pouring good beer on the table instead of drinking it? What's wrong with you?" "To the rose," Tasa smiled and sat down across from him. "I've been looking for you for a long time." "That only proves you're looking in the wrong place," he said irritably. "Since you're a customer... tell me, what's the point of looking for me? Seeking leads, stealing, buying back lost items, or selling stolen goods?" "None of that. I just want you to help spread a rumor." "That's not within the rose's business," he shook his head.
"No, no, no! Anything the Golden Dragon can pay for will interest you," Tasa waved his finger. "I'm no layman, young man. Sometimes, to lure prey, you need to create bait artificially. Rumors are the best bait—no evidence, no way to catch them. It's safer than stealing." "Sounds reasonable," the man sat up straight with a faint smile. "You've commissioned roses before?" "From your peers, in small towns. Their names aren't as refined as yours, and they don't do much." "If your scope is too narrow, it's hard to find suitable business. Silverlight City's competition is fierce." He picked up the wild rose, shook it, and slipped it into his pocket. "Tell me, what kind of rumor do you need to spread?" "News about the Witch," Tasa smiled. "An organization called the Guild of Mutual Aid found the Holy Mountain in the West, freed from demonic torment, and gained eternal peace." "Brother, this news is... well..." The short man smacked his lips. "Quite old-fashioned. Though I rarely teach customers how to deceive, your rumor should at least be slightly believable. Let me guess—if you're not kidnapping the Witch, you're trying to kill the Church. The latter? You'd only wait for a bunch of Inquisition Army to hang you. So I think it's the former..." He gave a lewd smile. "Unfortunately, as far as I know, most who tried to capture the Witch for sale are dead." "Even though they all wear the Stone of God's Punishment, those women aren't fools." "Why wouldn't they be?" Tasa asked curiously.
"A witch's organization is like the moon in the night sky. If it's real, the Church would surely swarm there. If I were a witch, I wouldn't go near such a place. If it's fake, then I have no reason to go. As for escaping the demon's devouring, man, are you serious? Witches are the embodiment of the Devil, you know? Such a grand lie would make even the witches themselves scoff." "Then let it spread this way," Tasa said nonchalantly.
"Customers are the ones who decide," the short man shrugged. "I already warned you. The fee is twenty Golden Dragons." "A lump sum?" "Exactly. Rose doesn't take deposits or final payments," he said, spreading his hands. "All transactions are voluntary." Tasa sighed, pulled a leather pouch from his pocket, and dumped nineteen Golden Dragons on the table. Then he grabbed a handful of silver wolves the size of fingernails from his waistband, counted a hundred, and pushed them toward the short man. The latter merely checked the authenticity of the Golden Dragons before stuffing them all into a cloth bag.
The short man's expression lightened when he received the money. "Rosa's promises are seldom broken. Didn't we warn you before? The Silverlight City market is cutthroat. Any customer deception would tarnish our reputation. If you're not in a rush to return to the Westlands to wait for the bait, stay here a few more days. Before long, word will spread far and wide." "Will it reach the witches 'ears too?" "Of course, but whether they'll take it is another matter. Good luck—you'll recoup your investment by selling to the Church, and Noble will pay even more. If you can't find a buyer and fear the Church's discovery, come to us. We only charge a ten percent referral fee." The short man snapped his fingers and left with his cloth bag. Soon after, the attendant man stood up and departed. After about fifteen minutes, Tasa drained the remaining wine from his cup, let out a burp, and walked out of the tavern.
This way, he thought, the mission RolandYour Highness had assigned would be accomplished. He had already visited every corner of Dragonfall, Crimsonwater, and Silverlight, gathering information from the local underworld rats and spreading the word—every city harbors groups lurking in the shadows, even forming an organized and covert network with the Lord's tacit approval, including the Graycastle King. Their capabilities far exceeded what was openly stated, and the extent of their influence largely depended on the number of patrons, the Golden Dragons.
The only real challenge was establishing rapport with the rat. As an outsider, he had to admit it was tough to win the other's trust—just the initial secret handshake cost him no fewer than five Golden Dragons. Tasa mused to himself,' If I hadn't had similar experiences in the capital, I probably wouldn't have made it out of Dragon Fall Ridge by now.'
On the way back to the hotel, he sensed a sense of unease.
I am being tracked.
Despite the opponent's stealthy movements, Tasa, a professional Guard, still detected their presence. He drew his dagger from his waistband and slipped into a nearby alley.
Was it a rose? He deliberately turned the purse inside out before handing over the nineteen gold dragons, to prevent others from coveting them. Normally, hundreds of silver wolves wouldn't dare to rob customers.
He leaned against the wall, counting the approaching footsteps. As the intruder neared the alley entrance, he lunged forward with a sudden burst, his dagger instantly pressed against the victim's throat.
"Don't move!" Tasa barked.
To my surprise, the other party suddenly turned into a cloud of mist and vanished without a trace.
It was Witch! He realized he had just been hit hard on the back of the neck just as he was about to shout. A wave of dizziness hit him, and he collapsed weakly to the ground.