Since the "Silver Coin Viper" Odell wasn't a pirate, the various rumors about him were a confusing mix of truth and lies. Klein averted his gaze from the stairway, walked to the bar, found a seat, and lightly tapped the table, saying:
"One Zarha."
It was a locally produced malt beer, much cheaper than the Southwell beer that had to be shipped from the Northern Continent.
"Three pence." The bartender, now recovered from his quiet state, picked up an upside-down glass.
The patrons in the bar also began whispering, under the light of the gas wall lamps, discussing the reason why the "Silver Coin Viper" Odell had bought ten tickets.
"He must be being tracked! Ten tickets for three ships—that way the trackers can't figure out which one they'll board!" a gang member with a tattoo on his arm, having rolled up his sleeve, offered his opinion based on his own two escape experiences.
An adventurer drinking Lilangui sneered:
"You don't know Odell. If his plan were that simple, he wouldn't have the nickname 'Silver Coin Viper.' I bet they won't board any of the passenger ships those ten tickets are for! The only thing for sure is that they're heading for Pritz Harbor."
Another adventurer shook his head and said:
"Maybe even the information about Pritz Harbor is fake."
The first gang member was stunned but unwilling to admit defeat:
"According to your description, Odell might have already thought of all that, so he actually does want to go to Pritz Harbor and will board one of those three ships!"
The two adventurers opened their mouths to refute, but after thinking it over, they found it quite possible and were speechless for a moment.
That made the gang member very happy, and he downed the rest of his liquor in one gulp.
Klein, holding a glass of Zarha, sipped his beer while listening boredly, waiting for his fake identification and tickets to come back.
"Still three quarters of an hour. Hope nothing happens and the bar doesn't get chaotic..." he silently prayed, drawing a crimson moon in his heart.
The pale yellow beer slowly dwindled. Klein glanced at the wall clock and then at the door, wishing the time would pass faster.
Over half an hour later, the bar door suddenly banged open, letting in the night wind.
"No way..." Klein's mouth twitched. Suppressing a bitter smile, he turned sideways to look at the source of the sound.
Five people appeared at the entrance. The leader had black hair and brown eyes, sharp features with hard lines, very Loen in appearance, probably in his early forties.
His expression was stern and authoritative, causing the bar patrons to unconsciously quiet down again.
Behind him, three men and a woman all wore trench coats and openly held revolvers, as if at the slightest anomaly they would instantly aim and fire.
"I don't recognize them. Not on any wanted list, no bounty..." Klein muttered, maintaining a spectator's posture.
The five intruders suddenly dispersed, each approaching a different patron. They bent slightly, looking at them, and asked in turn:
"Where is the 'Silver Coin Viper' Odell?"
The patrons hesitated to answer, then saw the dark muzzles aimed at them. The grips, made of white ivory or black ebony, showed an eerie beauty under the light.
"He... they went to the second floor!" the questioned patrons almost simultaneously pointed to the stairway.
So someone really is tracking Odell. Is this to target the "Mysterious Queen," or did Odell himself do something? Or is it because of the mysterious hooded figure eating fruit beside him? Klein took another sip of beer, watching as four of the intruders went to the second floor while the remaining one stayed behind to continue questioning.
Soon, the latter found out about Odell buying tickets from Denil. He immediately walked over to the skinny, darkish black-market merchant and asked in a deep voice:
"Tell me honestly, where did Odell buy tickets to?"
Denil didn't try to act tough, relying on his extensive connections. He forced a smile and said:
"He didn't say exactly. He requested ten tickets for three different ships, for tomorrow, destination Pritz Harbor."
"Really?" The questioner was a man in his twenties with an aggressive demeanor.
Denil replied quietly:
"You can ask anyone here. They all heard it."
"Bullshit!" The man angrily pushed Denil and turned to other patrons.
Denil lost his balance, staggering backward. He was about to fall, his head about to hit the edge of a small round table, when he felt a force on his shoulder and immediately regained his balance.
He instinctively turned his head and saw that it was the customer who had just been arranging fake identification and buying black-market tickets.
"Thanks. These damned military hyenas!" Denil first thanked, then ground his teeth and muttered.
The one who steadied him was Klein. He didn't want the "ticket scalper" to have an accident, since he had already paid 5 pounds in cash.
Of course, it was also his habit to help innocent people caught up in incidents.
Military hyenas? In Bayam, that kind of description often refers to people from Military Intelligence Nine... What did the "Silver Coin Viper" Odell do? Klein silently muttered, ruling out the possibility that someone was targeting the "Mysterious Queen."
Because to the Loen military, that was meaningless.
As he was thinking, the members of the Military Intelligence Nine who had gone to the second floor hurried downstairs, heading straight for the door while saying to their companion:
"They already jumped out the window and ran away!"