Harrison Brown calmed down and looked around with an amused expression. Since today was the grand opening of the "Sorg" wax museum, there were many pedestrians crossing the stone bridge, and a cart laden with heavy steel was inching along. He chuckled self-deprecatingly: "So there just happens to be an unusual crowd today, plus a cart full of steel — that's what made this nearly hundred-year-old stone bridge sway. Heh, I really am too jumpy. Like a bird that's been shot at with arrows too many times — the moment I hear a bowstring twang, even if the arrow isn't aimed at me, I react as though it is."
Now that he understood the cause, his emotions fully recovered. At that moment, the adventurer to his right sidled closer, pretending to walk alongside him by chance, and whispered: "It was just an accident. Continue on to the Sorg wax museum."
"Got it. Heh heh, the city council really should send someone to reinforce this bridge." Brown didn't refuse, ambling toward the small island on the far side of the stone bridge — an art district home to an oil painting gallery, the wax museum, an opera house, a concert hall, and several upscale restaurants.
The Night Watch agent disguised as an adventurer glanced to the right, then addressed Brown on his left as if offhandedly: "But we can't let our guard down. I've already used Divine Arts to have the Church send someone over to investigate — whether the bridge truly deteriorated from age and exceeded its load limit, or whether someone used concealed Arcane Magic to sabotage it."
Although no magical fluctuations had been detected moments ago, this Night Watch agent remained cautious, worried that some extremely subtle concealment spell might have been at work.
In truth, the "Professor's Resonant Hand" only induced resonance; the damage to the stone bridge's internal structure was entirely caused by the violent vibrations themselves. A post-incident inspection would never uncover any traces of magic. The only way to discover the anomaly would be if the city council or the Church conducted a safety assessment of the bridge every year or two, then compared records to notice that the damage had occurred with unnatural suddenness and speed. But in this world of magic and Divine Arts, such systematic safety assessments did not yet exist — reinforcement was carried out based purely on visible damage and citizen complaints.
"Your vigilance is truly admirable." Brown was very pleased by the Night Watch agent's wariness and caution — it meant his own safety was that much more assured.
After crossing the stone bridge and walking for seven or eight minutes, Brown and his entourage arrived at the entrance of the Sorg wax museum. The building was a two-story structure of smooth black stone, built in a classical style — imposing and dignified.
"Good day, Viscount Lait. Good day, Baron Kepp..." In the museum's foyer, Viscount Lait and others had already arrived. Brown hurried forward to greet them respectfully. Even if he eventually moved to the holy city of Lance, he dreamed of maintaining good relations with these great nobles and wealthy magnates — they controlled trade routes across the eastern and western coasts, the northern and southern continents, and even the crumbs that fell from their fingers could fund a life of luxury.
Viscount Lait was a middle-aged man with a rare head of seaweed-green hair. He responded to Brown with a reserved nod: "Welcome, our heroic knight."
"You are the truly admirable Great Knight," Brown said humbly. Knights who relied on potions to awaken their bloodlines differed considerably from true knights in willpower and spirit, and Viscount Lait was a genuine fourth-tier Great Knight.
Viscount Lait said nothing more, turning instead to discuss business with his partner Granuyev. Brown, meanwhile, sought out several nobles and merchants he was familiar with for conversation.
Soon, the clock struck ten. Sorg — his mouth's hard lines as unyielding as stone — stood at the entrance alongside the nobles and announced the museum's grand opening to the guests outside.
This world had not yet invented the tradition of ribbon-cutting; only a band provided accompaniment.
But at that moment, a commotion erupted in the crowd. Something strange seemed to be happening in the distance. The Night Watch agents mingled among the guests exchanged glances, their expressions growing very solemn, then split off and rushed toward the disturbance.
Lucian — wearing a tall black top hat and a monocle over his left eye — had altered his appearance slightly and stood amid the crowd. He watched the pair of Night Watch agents pretending to be a couple depart, and observed the agent disguised as an opulent merchant slip away quietly. Only the agent dressed as an adventurer remained, along with the boatman patrolling the canal back and forth.
Since "the Ferrymen" had promised to help him draw away the Night Watch, Lucian was not fool enough to attempt it alone. At a lower tier of strength, working solo was far inferior to organized action — why should he exhaust himself and take enormous personal risks to create a diversion?
"They seem to have a fair understanding of the Night Watch..." Lucian didn't know what methods Sturnock's contacts had used to successfully lure away three Night Watch agents without showing themselves, but the word "successfully" alone indicated they had studied the Sturnock Night Watch's operational patterns and style in depth. This was precisely the way magicians operated!
The request to create a diversion had come after last night's loosening of the stone arch bridge, because Lucian understood that his probing could only produce a temporary effect. Once the Night Watch changed their disguises or rotated squad assignments, he would have to probe again to identify which agents were which. And repeated probing — even without any magical fluctuations — would inevitably arouse serious suspicion. Therefore, he had to seize the window between his probing and Brown's return home to make his move.
At this moment, Lucian's appearance had been only slightly altered with a hat, monocle, and cosmetics. Using a full disguise technique at this stage would easily be seen through by Great Knights; he merely needed to ensure that Brown wouldn't recognize him at a glance.
Brown, standing on the steps, felt a twinge of wariness at the distant commotion and quietly asked the Night Watch agent who had taken on the appearance of his subordinate adventurer: "Nothing wrong, I hope?"
"A few of our Night Watch have already headed over. But don't worry about your safety — there are three or four Great Knights and over a dozen knights here. Would the Magic Parliament dare to make a move?" the adventurer-agent answered calmly. The Sorg wax museum was packed with bloodline nobles inside and out; even if they had become tainted by the stench of money, it could not mask their true strength — which was precisely why the Night Watch had felt comfortable letting those agents leave.
Brown glanced at Viscount Lait and the others, and his expression relaxed.
Then, suddenly, a blue flash blazed from a distant clock tower. An arrow with a ghostly blue tip shot toward Brown at blistering speed.
The arrow's velocity, its imposing momentum, and the lethal intent it carried all indicated that the archer in the clock tower was at minimum a knight-tier marksman!
The arrow streaked through the canal and the crowd like a phantom, seeming to arrive before Brown's face in the blink of an eye — giving him no chance to react at all.