Yakrin continued to observe his targets from a half day away, mostly to avoid being detected by the spirit beasts. What he saw was intriguing. Too intriguing. While he couldn’t detect powers from this far, his visual ability revealed a treasure that should be worth millions, perhaps even billions of gold. Perhaps even beyond that, though he wasn’t confident on selling it to higher tier nobles without gaining suspicious stares; however, to the underworld, Yakrin should find some rich rogue magician willing to part with the gold or perhaps spirit coins to purchase it.
Normally, no one should be able to see such activities due to the deep east being mostly deserted. Days away awaited only a village, and more days was the small city of Wingston. The only reason they established a city this far out was likely to plan for some political plays without the many prying eyes of the capital.
He gazed at the red cube again, feeling its mystical powers even this far out. It assembled what appeared to be a storage house, a forge, and Wanda’s ass, for all the man knew, that entire property could’ve been spawned from the treasure. Just gazing at it made his mouth water, the greed in his eyes glowing. He had to have it! If not to sell it off for profit, then for himself. It’d go well in a collection.
Yakrin may be an assassin, choosing to live in solitude due to paranoia, but he was still a minor noble, though with forgettable features. Other nobles paid him gold to silence threats. Yet, no matter how much he tried, he just couldn’t understand why the town wasted his time with assassinating a commoner. They knew Yakrin’s rates were very high. So why? The man ran a farm for Wanda’s sake.
There were some possibilities, which began to boil the assassin’s blood. They hired Yakrin for entertainment. Kill off the new man and his family just to stave off the boredom of Kyushu. If the assassin found any evidence of this, he’d turn his fire on those nobles. The man did not take jobs easily these days. He had a reputation to maintain, and sullying it with peasant blood would make his peers see him as a joke.
Another possibility was that they somehow found out about that man’s treasure and wanted it for themselves. But… that didn’t make any sense. Why instruct Yakrin to burn down everything specifically after killing them? If he had one treasure, then he should have more, especially with something as valuable as that red cube. The more Yakrin thought about the situation, the more questions spawned.
Normally, the assassin didn’t give a damn about the reasons as long as the target had value. If he couldn’t stir any chaos, people wouldn’t fear him. He didn’t earn the title of Throat Eater for nothing.
His target had a small farm with a river not too far from it, running around it, and a waterwheel that would never get installed due to an untimely death. A waste, really. A potion maker was a highly valuable asset to any town. What could he have possibly done to make that count come to him in person, rather than sending a messenger? That meant he wasn’t the only minor noble that wanted the potion maker dead, but all of them, except the mayor.
Otherwise, the mayor would’ve sent the guard in full force to expel him fully, even if he didn’t live in town. Ten minutes away was still too close, after all. That only brought on another mystery. Their money-making scheme wasn’t particularly a secret, but Yakrin saw no reason to go this far just for one guy and his family. What else were they hiding? This ordeal just kept getting juicer and juicer and the assassin almost wanted in on it just for his own entertainment. Yet… a job was a job, at least for now. If they all needed him dead, perhaps the value of his target may not be so low after all. Or so Yakrin hoped. Because there was another oddity. He had no origin whatsoever. Only a name, but the nobles provided nothing else. This was a first for even the assassin. Every file had information to make sure the target was as dead as possible and his assets located, his family or friends for potential hostages if need be, so on. Yet, it was as if this man was only born a day ago. The nobles likely withheld information, which only made the assassin angry, but not deterred. Especially for a peasant.
Based on the information given to him, Yakrin’s best bet would be to attack at night. The potion maker employed both the mayor’s daughter and a Wingston youth.
Yakrin’s eyes widened.
“What in Wanda’s…?”
The puzzle began to click. The potion maker was most definitely not some nobody to have the daughters of the mayor and the Red Star working at his shop. He wasn’t sure about the redheaded boy, but when he read the profile, he gaped. Originally a resident from the village two days from Kyushu, the lad turned out to be a half-dwarf. Something quite rare.
“And even he’s under the potion maker’s control,” Yakrin said softly.
Hiring help wasn’t something uncommon, but as someone who lived near a pathetic F-ranked town, why bother? Nothing of this made any sense. The only thing Yakrin could do at this point was to proceed as usual. Kill the commoner, steal any treasure, and burn it down. Perhaps he’d add in something extra, as his reputation of being called crazy wasn’t for naught.
Then again, he didn’t bring any alchemic solutions with him on the peasant hunt. Why would he? Sure, sending a poison cloud to the town to make all of its resident sick for some days was one of his signatures, but adding anything expensive to this budget for a peasant felt more insulting than entertaining.
He considered outsourcing his job to some bandits, but in the end, he decided against it. What if they kept everything for themselves and disappeared off the face of the planet? His investment would go to waste.
Eyes full of disdain and hardness, the assassin-magician deactivated his rare spying spell and continued the journey.
“I hope you enjoy your last night alive, pretty kittens,” he said, chuckling. Killing the wife would be a waste as the council not only didn’t acknowledge her but provided no file for some reason. What a strange request.
The day seemed to go by slowly as a I ran the shop, read potion making and alchemy books checked out from the library, and helped Chenzu from time to time. As usual, the beastkin finished his morning work quickly, only slowing down to teach the teenagers or give tips. By now, they were starting to get the hang of things.
I also took the time to study Harmony’s wand, hoping I could find any hints at creating other things with the skeleton king’s bone dust. The potion of storms was great, but battle potions were unprofitable unless I wanted to risk selling them.
[Ancient Wand of the Skeleton King’s Chamber. Item rank: S. Item quality: Excellent. The skeleton king’s source of magical power. A wand with numerous mysteries.]
It reminded me just how insane it was to hold an S-ranked item. The rank of S, after all, meant Special or Super, and stood above the letters. I believed it originated from the Japanese grading system, but to see it casually used in another world ignited more questions. Clearly, this world had some connection to Earth since it plucked me from it like a ripe vegetable.
“I think tomorrow will be a good time for some dungeon running,” I told Milia.
She nodded. “Restocking ahead of time is always a good idea. The lighting potions are selling far better than I expected.”
“Have you seen the town at night?” I said, chuckling. “Torchlight isn’t reliable, and it seems no one can afford magical lamps… Ah shit.” I facepalmed. “Did I undervalue our lighting potions?”
“No, you didn’t,” Milia said. “You let me and Harmony decide the prices, remember? I added a ten percent profit over market price.”
“Sheesh, where are these people getting the money to pay for that?” I asked.
“Despite the town being F-ranked, they do have to make a living,” Milia said. “The sudden ban on unreasonable taxes has increased the mood considerably. You should go into town and look for yourself. There’s enough relief that I think the kingdom guards should be called to arrest the scheming nobles.”
“Good and all, but without a replacement for the town’s investors, Kyushu would be screwed,” I said. “Gwendolyn could put a Band-Aid on the problem, but eventually, the wound will bleed again. I can’t say I understand this Lord Ruler’s method of forcing self-sufficiency. He’s still taking taxes but provides no help. What does that mean?”
Milia shrugged. “Who knows? It’s likely there are a multitude of towns going through this, and it isn’t uncommon that a kingdom slashes funding for some city. It’s just, most kingdoms give advanced notice, maybe some reasons why, and a promise to award nobles that step up to the plate for the town’s management.”
“What we need are… different investors,” I said. “Just in case the nobles suddenly all disappear during the night. For now, we’ll have to see what Gwen and her husband think.”
Later that day, I went into town to contract someone to properly install the waterwheel for me. A gold deposit later, I started toward the general store. A large, bearded man dressed in fine robes that looked as if they were forced upon him gave me a… strange, hardened stare, which turned into a pitying gaze, before he continued on, shaking his head.
I assumed he was the noble missing from the meeting. I analyzed him out of curiosity, but what I saw was shocking. He appeared as an enemy.
[Enemy Analysis.]
Tackrum. Mortal. Shadow Council Member.
The general store could wait for later. There was no way I’d let this guy slip away without getting some answers. It took only about fifteen minutes of following him. I had the rest of my shadow potions on hand just in case they had a magician with them, but kept my hopes up that I wouldn’t have to waste any on this guy.
Tackrum entered what I assumed to be his somewhat guarded manor, leaving me no choice but to down one of my shadow potions. To put things into perspective, I only had four small vials left now, and no way to obtain materialized darkness. I could talk to the hero’s party about hallow hunting. Maybe they could sell it to me. They were the adventurers, after all.
I slipped into the shadows, keeping my senses expanded to make sure I didn’t end up where someone could spot me. The spot that I emerged from wasn’t too bad, just on the side of the manor with a few windows ahead.
Not detecting any nearby presences, I took a risky peek inside, only to catch a glimpse of Tackrum arguing with a woman I assumed to be his wife based on the fancy clothing, her middle-aged appearance, and how she appeared to be dominating the argument.
Slipping back into the shadows, I ended up beneath Tackrum’s feet.
“We’re not going anywhere,” his wife snapped. “Either pull in the profits or go find a corner to rot in for the rest of your life. Now isn’t the time to get soft. Besides, what’s one measly potion maker in the grand scheme of things? It was his fault for sticking his nose into places where it didn’t belong. And now you dare return here after Count Hubert went out of his way to hire the Throat Eater. How can you be so ungrateful after all that he’s done for us?”
“Where did the woman with a heart I married go?” Tackrum said. “It would’ve been so much easier if the Count simply explained how things were going to work to the potion maker. Should he not comply, he can be barred from entering our town. No one selling to him.”
“Do you think that’s going to work, idiot?” his wife said. “Get in reality. If you’re not in the profit-making mindset, you may as well hang your head up and go join the peasants in working the field. Perhaps being dirty, sweaty, and burning in the sun is meant for you. I signed that deal for our future. If you can’t see it, then that’s your problem.” She started stomping away. “Sleep in the bar tonight, for all I care. Do not bother me until you’re ready to apologize for being an idiot.”
“You’re a fool, Kammi,” Tackrum called after her. “One day, this entire scheme you signed us into will come back to bite us. Then what will you say when kingdom soldiers prepare to take your head off?”
I emerged from the shadows behind Tackrum and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Shout, scream, and you will die,” I said coldly, meaning every word. I locked the torrent of utter rage to the back of my mind, mostly because I saw this coming. A part of me hoped that things would calm down and they’d simply choose to leave if dissatisfied with the fair prices, but to think they went out of their way to hire a fucking assassin brought a new degree of fuckery to the equation. “Come, let’s talk, Shadow Council Member Tackrum. You sound like someone with a little reason. It’s time you confessed.”
“How… how did you get in here?” he asked, still pale and sweating.
“I’m asking the questions,” I said. “Now come, outside and to the side we go. If your men attack, you die. So warn them first.”
He quickly waved at his saber-wielding men to carry on with their duties.
“I’m only talking with a guest, no problems here,” Tackrum said.
We walked to the side of his manor where plenty of shadows awaited, just in case the assassin was nearby. Sure, he could probably use them himself, but after manually inspecting the area, I sensed no threat.
“Fess up,” I told him. “And don’t think you can overpower me.” I saw his fist ball up and he prepared to launch a sucker punch at some point. To show him I wasn’t fucking around, I lightly tapped a fist against his manor, which was made of painted stone. The hole I left almost drained the soul from his body.
“I… I wanted no part of it,” he quickly said, stumbling over his words. “I argued against Count Hubert, tried to get him to drop the matter entirely, move on, but he’s not the kind of man that enjoys losing to anyone younger than him. He believes himself to be cunning, despite being just a foolish man with gold. Perhaps I’m more foolish, allowing myself to get pulled into this. But when he said the assassin could be sitting invisibly among us, I froze, played like a lute. Wanda’s rear, I…”
“Slow it down,” I said, “and tell me what happened. What’s this shadow council? If you think I’m going to just buy your act of innocence without any context, you’d better spill the beans or your manor will not be the only thing with a gaping hole.”
The words poured from the man as he told me about the secret meeting, Count Hubert’s plan, and Yakrin the Throat Eater. It turned out the assassin was also a noble that lived in seclusion just a day further east.
“He’s a magician,” Tackrum said. “I think even a strong one. You’d be better off taking your family and rushing to Wingston within the hour. He may be here tonight.”
“Is that so?” I said softly. “Well, in that case, let’s not waste any further time. You will take me to the homes of every single member of the Shadow Council.” I patted his shoulder. “For the assassin’s sake, he’d better call his job idiotic and turn around.”
The rage only grew as I followed the hulking man to every single shadow council member’s home, rounding them up like cattle. The town began to shake as if an earthquake chose an awful time to hit, but when I realized it was because of my aura, I reeled it back in.
“What is the meaning of this?” a balding man in fine robes and wearing a monocle spat. “What’s he doing here? Tackrum, you… Did you—”
“I take it he’s Count Hubert?” I asked Tackrum. All of the minor nobles were lined up at his door, pale, having experienced the same thing as the large, bearded man.
“Yes, it’s him,” Tackrum replied. “And if you must know, Count, no. I said nothing. The potion maker simply outwitted you, appeared in my house, and left me no choice but to confess. You tricked me into the meeting, revealed to everyone you hired an assassin and—”
“Do not try to pretend you’re innocent,” Hubert snapped. “I was doing what it took to keep profits in this town. In our pockets. Profits will keep investors around, you know this. You didn’t make a single move to warn the man, so you’re not innocent either.”
“I agree,” I said. “He’s just as bad as the rest of you, as the moment you mentioned the possibility of an assassin, he grew quiet, letting the fight slip out of him. And fuck warning me, right? Apparently you’re able to sleep at night while a man, his wife, and his pets are killed in their sleep and burned alive.”
Tackrum’s eyes widened, but there wasn’t a single thing he could say to remove his upcoming fate.
“So after getting all of the story from you, the assassin should be here by nightfall,” I said, my voice still calm with its hidden rage.
Noticing two guards walking through the town, I motioned them over.
“I need you to contact the kingdom soldiers,” I said.
“And why should we listen to you?” the guard asked. “What’s going on? Are you okay, Count Hubert?”
I shook my head and with a swift finger, knocked both guards out, dashing the hope that blossomed in the count’s eyes. He was just seconds away from lying his ass off.
“You know what, I’m really trying to keep true to myself, not take the psychopath’s way out,” I said. “There will be one person I’ll be forced to kill tonight, bloodying my hands further. Well, it’s not coldblooded murder at least, like you assholes.”
They flinched.
“Some confidence, brat, believing you’ll be able to stand up to the Throat Eater,” Hubert laughed. “He’s going to—ack.”
I broke both his arms, then smacked him to the ground. It took just one punch each. As he howled in pain, I spotted actual allies.
“Hey Ramon, twerp, over here.”
When they rushed over, I explained everything. Ronica zapped them with her pink lightning, but fortunately didn’t kill them.
“Let’s take these fools to the jail to hold until the kingdom soldiers arrive,” Ramon said.
“I’ll go explain everything to the mayor,” Ronica said cheerily. “After that, we’re going to hunt the assassin. You’re leading the hunt, of course.”
“Gladly,” I said. “Tackrum, you will explain every detail I need to know about this guy or lightning will be your least pain.” I nodded at the unconscious Hubert. He nodded furiously, tears pouring from his eyes. “Your wife will be joining you in jail soon. Make sure your butlers get your children to their next of kin. Perhaps you should’ve thought carefully before you fucked with me and mine.”
