Witch Taming System

Lancel quickly subdued the men rushing for him, meeting each of them head-on and putting them down before they could properly follow through.

The moment three of them were already on the ground at once, the rest froze in their tracks.

Breathing heavily, Lancel looked up, sweat beginning to bead along his brow as his gaze swept across everyone present.

"As I said," he spoke. "I’m looking for a group of bastards masquerading as clowns. They took two people close to me."

"Clowns?" someone from the crowd spoke up. "The performers from yesterday in the central district?"

Lancel’s eyes turned toward the voice. "Do you know anything, Mister?"

Without another word, he removed his foot from the man he had been stepping on and slowly approached the one who spoke.

"I might know a thing or two."

The man’s voice lowered as he looked around.

"But it’s best we don’t talk about it here."

Lancel took a moment to process his words before giving a nod.

They quickly moved away from the docks and into a quieter corner, where the noise faded just enough to speak without drawing attention. The man leaned against the wall, crossing his arms as he finally began.

"To give you a brief insight," he said, "those people aren’t performers. They’re mercenaries, just dressed up as entertainment."

"Mercenaries?"

"Aye." The man nodded. "Large-scale organization. They operate all across the continent, doing all kinds of shady work. Heard a thing or two about them. Sometimes they show up as troupes, sometimes theater performers, sometimes even vendors. It all depends on how they want to draw in their targets."

Lancel took in the information quietly.

If that was the case, then this wasn’t something recent. This kind of setup meant they had likely been operating here for a while, blending in and waiting for the right moment to make their move.

"What could they possibly be after?"

"If you’re saying they took your buddies, then it’s probably a kidnapping job," the man replied. "And those bastards don’t just take anyone, you know?"

"...."

If that was true, then this wasn’t random. They had been targeting Faust and Fiore from the very beginning.

But that only led to another question.

Why?

Who in their right mind would go after witches?

But from his experience in similar lines of work, Lancel knew better than to trust information blindly.

No matter how convincing it sounded, it was always best to take it with a grain of salt until something was confirmed.

"And how should I know you’re not one of them in disguise?"

In the next instant, Lancel’s dagger was already in his hand, pressing its edge right against the man’s throat before the latter could even react.

The man froze immediately, both hands raising in panic.

"Woah, woah... Put that down..." he quickly said. "I’m an informant. An informant! Ah—ah, here!"

Fumbling slightly, he pulled something from his pocket and held it out. It was a guild-issued insignia.

"Oh."

Lancel’s grip loosened before putting the blade away.

"A-Anyway..." the man swallowed, steadying himself. "Information doesn’t come for free... so I’ll have to charge ya..."

That much was expected.

In this kind of work, informants were everywhere. People who dealt in nothing but information, selling whatever they could gather, no matter how small or insignificant it seemed, as long as it held value to someone.

Lancel didn’t argue and handed over the payment. The man checked it quickly before giving a small nod.

"Alright... I kind of simplified things earlier," he admitted, glancing at Lancel. "I probably know where you can find them."

"Where?!"

Lancel stepped forward immediately, grabbing the man by the shoulders before he could even finish.

"In three days," the man said, "cargo shipment is coming in. If this is a kidnapping job, then it’s highly likely they’ll be smuggled through that. Considering this is Port Town, it’s the easiest way out. Though... they might take the long route as well."

He paused, eyeing Lancel carefully.

"What kind of people did they kidnap? Nobility? Maybe a scholar?"

"Witches."

"...Witches."

The man’s brows rose.

"Yikes... then this is definitely organized," he muttered. "Someone must’ve had a grudge big enough to hire those bastards. In any case, cargo’s your best bet. No one’s lucky enough to walk out of Riviere alive through the main gates after kidnapping witches."

"A cargo ship, then," Lancel said, processing it quickly. "If it’s in three days, that means they’re still hiding somewhere nearby. Any thoughts?"

The man hummed before a faint grin formed on his face.

"I suppose I could keep an eye out," he said. "What’s your name? You seem like the kind of guy with money I’d like dealing with."

"Lancel. I’m also affiliated with the guild."

"An adventurer, then." The man nodded, clearly pleased. "Perfect. Glad to be working with ya. The name’s Christoph, by the way."

A handshake was exchanged.

* * *

There were many cells within the organization, each operating in its own corner of shady work.

They had no official name, ensuring anonymity at all times. Each group had its own gimmick, its own identity, making it difficult to classify them as a single entity.

Unlike the infamous Leviathan Group, known strictly for contract killings, this organization was far more flexible.

As long as you had the money, they could be hired for almost anything.

Of course, that kind of reliability didn’t come cheap.

"Don’t touch them, Alan."

"Tsk."

Lemuel, the troupe member acting as the current squadron’s de facto leader, narrowed his eyes at Alan, who had already begun reaching toward the two unconscious witches.

"I get that Faust chick since she’s the target," Alan muttered, his tone laced with irritation. "But what about the blue-haired one? We can’t even have a little fun?"

Lemuel reached out, catching Alan’s wrist mid-air before it could go any further, firm enough to make a point.

"I said don’t touch them."

Alan clicked his tongue, trying to pull back, but Lemuel didn’t let go immediately.

"You want to get paid or not?" Lemuel continued. "We weren’t hired for that. We deliver them as is."

"...Tch. It’s not like the other one’s a target."

"You’re getting way too cocky."

"...Fine."

Only then did Lemuel release him.

Alan rolled his wrist, irritation clear on his face as he stepped back, throwing a glance at the two witches lying unconscious.

"What a waste."