Lucian hadn't expected that Stuerk would be plagued by so much turmoil these past two months, throwing yet another wrench into his plans for reaching the Holm Kingdom. But ever since he'd arrived in this world, his life's path had been riddled with obstacles — it was only through sheer, unyielding refusal to back down that he'd clawed his way to where he was today, with nothing but a strait separating him from the Magic Parliament. Compared to the dangers he'd faced before, this was nothing.
And so, with perfect composure, he asked, "Is he truly a traitor? What's his name?"
Certain things needed to be clarified. He had no intention of being used as a pawn by Stuerk's contact, nor of ending up as a discarded piece.
The "Ferryman's" tone turned grim and lethal. "His name is Harrison… Brown. A formal knight. The Stuerk Daily ran a report on him receiving a medal two weeks ago. The citation read: 'Defended the Lord's glory in darkness, purifying nearly fifty lost lambs.' If you doubt my word, you can check that issue at the city library. There's even a transcript of the speech he gave at the city council upon receiving the honor — not a shred of remorse for the thirty-odd magic apprentices who died because of him. Most of those apprentices were only twelve or thirteen. They'd received basic training in arcane theory but hadn't even entered a state of Meditation."
"I'll verify it." Lucian nodded. "But I have one more question."
The Ferryman studied Lucian's somewhat stiff expression. "What?"
"Based on my travels and past experience, whenever the Church has traitors like this, they always reward them in secret to ensure their safety and shield them from retaliation — or they have them join a Night Watch squad directly. I've never heard of anyone publicly receiving a knight's medal in broad daylight. Could this be a trap?" Lucian wasn't about to joke with his own life.
The Ferryman wasn't surprised that Lucian had noticed. Magicians who'd grown up under the Church's suppression and pursuit might have significant gaps in their arcane theory, but in terms of sharpness and adaptability, they were absolutely superior to those educated in the Magic Parliament's safe environment. "Yes, we think this might be a Night Watch trap as well. But we have to kill him — to make an example of anyone inside who's harboring restless ideas."
"Without you, we'd have attempted the assassination anyway. Offering you this task is so you can pass the test and head to Allinsley as quickly as possible. If you decline, that's fine too — just leave me a contact method. When something else comes up that can verify your identity, I'll inform you." He paused. "If you accept, you may make requests when necessary, and we'll help draw the Night Watch's attention away. But we won't tell you how we plan to do that — after all, you haven't proven your identity yet."
"If you succeed, we'll welcome our new companion with the greatest enthusiasm."
He silently added a thought: And if you fail, it won't implicate us.
"What is Harrison… Brown's bloodline power? Does he possess any extraordinary weapons or artifacts? What's his routine like? I imagine you've already gathered that intelligence." Lucian asked with a smile. As a formal magician, even in face-to-face combat he'd have considerable confidence killing a knight of equal rank, let alone a covert assassination. The real issues lay elsewhere. "With that information, I can determine whether I have what it takes to kill Harrison… Brown under Night Watch protection and shake off pursuit."
The Ferryman was well satisfied conversing with such a sharp magician. He spoke without beating around the bush. "Brown's bloodline power is 'Regeneration' — a decent bloodline derived from trolls. It grants great strength and speed, and as long as the head isn't severed, he'll regenerate indefinitely until his body's energy is depleted. Of course, since it's a troll bloodline, acid and fire can disrupt the regeneration and kill him for good."
"He originally carried a first-grade extraordinary weapon from the Parliament — the Withered Spear, which inflicts additional toxin damage. The Church then rewarded him with a second-grade extraordinary artifact: the Demon Hunter's Shield. Beyond its defensive capabilities equivalent to a Second-level Knight, it can absorb a certain degree of elemental damage. Whether he has any other extraordinary artifacts, we don't know."
"His routine is…"
The Ferryman relayed all the intelligence they'd gathered on Brown to Lucian, who listened quietly and analyzed the possible opportunities.
Outside of Stuerk's clergy, nobles, and prominent members of high society, Brown refused visits from anyone. He rarely went out. He enjoyed oil painting and wax-figure art. Rumor had it he would relocate to the holy city of Lans in five months' time… Piece by piece, the intelligence echoed through Lucian's mind. Only when the Ferryman had finished did Lucian ask, as if confirming: "The day after tomorrow morning, Brown will attend the opening ceremony of the Sorg Wax Museum?"
"Yes. The wax artist Sorg promised Brown that before he left for Lans, he'd craft a lifelike wax figure of him and display it in the museum — to honor his contributions against the darkness. So he'll definitely attend the ceremony. Of course, it's also possible the Night Watch arranged for him to get out and about more." The Ferryman finished his answer, then repeated, "When the time comes, if you need us to draw the Night Watch away, let us know in advance."
"All right. I'll give it a try." Lucian accepted the task with his characteristically stolid expression.
After arranging the meeting point and signal with the Ferryman, Lucian boarded a small boat and slipped into the darkness, using both Arcane Magic and his knightly abilities to shake off any pursuit.
…………
Late the following night, Lucian appeared beside a stone arch bridge, clad in a black hooded robe. It was one of two bridges leading to the small island where the "Sorg Wax Museum" stood, and from Brown's villa to the island, it was the best route. Taking the other bridge would mean a massive detour.
Moreover, as far as Lucian knew, the wax artist Sorg was quite popular in Stuerk. Tomorrow, a number of nobles and wealthy merchants would be attending the ceremony, and their private needleboats would clog every bit of waterside near the museum. So even if Sorg arrived by needleboat through the canal, he would disembark on this side and cross over via the stone arch bridge.
It was the deep hours of the night. Stars dotted the sky, and shimmering light played across the water's surface. Everything was silent.
Lucian stood at the edge of the bridge, both hands pressed flat against the stone, and opened his mouth in a soundless scream.
Ripple after ripple spread from his hands into the stone bridge and bounced back, over and over, each time adjusted and sent again. Gradually, the stone bridge began to visibly shake — and the shaking grew more violent, its amplitude widening with every pulse.
"Professor's Resonant Hand"!
Just as the bridge's oscillation was about to reach its critical point — on the verge of collapsing at any second — Lucian suddenly stopped, and watched it gradually settle back to stillness, indistinguishable from before.