Chapter 102: Out at Night
He sheathed the blade slowly, and it became a plain cane again, resting in his right hand. His left hand swept casually behind him. "I hate people who think too highly of themselves — who assume they can slip past everyone's notice."
He hadn't even finished speaking before an ice lance materialized out of nothing behind him. In the same instant, another figure stumbled, his foot slipping at exactly the wrong moment, throat meeting the ice lance dead-on. There was a wet sound. The man's eyes went wide with disbelief. His mouth opened as if to say something, but only a meaningless noise came out before he collapsed, the dagger falling from his hand, its blade glowing a faint gray-blue — clearly poisoned.
The sudden, impossible fall startled everyone. Only three people showed no surprise at all — though of those three, the two remaining thieves who'd just revealed themselves were plainly stunned despite themselves. Only Evan looked as though this was exactly how things were meant to happen.
Everyone's eyes dropped to the ground beneath where the last thief had fallen. A thin film of grease had formed there at some point.
"Grease," the man in the shadow by the door said, his voice bitter. "You already knew he was there. You'd laid Grease under his feet without him even noticing — so why finish him off with an ice lance?"
"If you set out to kill people, you should expect to be killed yourself," Evan said, a faint mocking smile rising at the corner of his mouth. "That's an odd question, coming from you. Didn't you come here to kill us?"
"You're not wrong. We did come to kill you," the thief in the doorway shadow said. "I didn't expect Hollingburton to send someone this strong. You're a real talent. We've failed here — we'll meet again." A burst of smoke exploded outward with a boom.
"Think you're leaving?" Evan gave a cold laugh. Black mist rose, and two gargoyles shot out of it, hurtling straight toward the two men. Evan himself didn't move.
A muffled grunt came from within the smoke. The gargoyles shattered into rubble, but a stark splash of red stood out sharply against the grey. Both men had been hurt — one left a pool of blood behind, the other had a chunk of flesh and clothing torn away where a gargoyle's claw had caught his shoulder — but both managed to escape all the same.
"Who were they?" Evan asked, not bothering to give chase. He turned instead to James.
"I don't know. Local adventurers, probably, acting on someone's orders to ambush us here," James said.
Evan crouched down and pulled two vials from his coat, collecting samples of the blood and torn flesh from the ground before tucking them away inside his jacket. James's eyes flickered at the sight — it seemed Evan had further plans in mind. The rubble from the gargoyles was already crumbling away, and soon it had vanished entirely, along with the grease and the ice lance.
Evan used his cane to flip back the dead man's mask and asked James, "Do you recognize him?"
James studied the face. "Looks like Pika, one of Holred's thieves. Could this have something to do with Holred?" he said, sounding uncertain.
Evan gave a small hum and flipped over the mask on the second body. "And this one?"
James blinked, then quickly composed himself. "Don't know him. Probably a mercenary." He had no idea Evan had already caught the look on his face — Evan's brow twitched faintly at it.
"A thief with the ability to threaten a senior mage's life, yet only a low-tier knight himself. Thieves really are a mage's natural enemy," Evan said, scanning the surroundings. The others, aside from James, were also carefully checking their surroundings.
"They're gone," Evan continued. "It seems the gathering team's chances aren't good."
Everyone understood what he meant, and a quiet anger settled over the group — that a remote little town would dare raise a hand against Hollingburton's people. Evan found it strange, too. Before entering the cabin, he'd already marked several of the watchers with a spell, but the killers who'd shown up weren't among those he'd marked. He kept that detail to himself. The ones he'd tagged had already withdrawn. Something about this didn't sit right, and looking down at the two bodies, he found himself wondering — was Pika really one of Holred's men at all?
"Let's head back. James, you've lived in this town a long time. Walk us through the details properly," Jessica said. Evan, still lost in thought, nodded at her words.
On the walk back, James gave the four of them a thorough rundown of the town's factions, and by the time they returned, they had a fair grasp of how power was distributed across it. Evening had nearly fallen by then.
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After dinner, Evan had made up his mind. "I'm going out tonight."
"What? You want to go out? Better to report this and request reinforcements from the school. It's dangerous at night," James said, startled.
"There are four of us. Jessica's a mind mage, not built for combat, and Jaymes and Peter are both still fairly low-level, with no knight-class protection to speak of. I'm the only one suited for this. Don't worry, I'll be careful," Evan said, unconcerned — though he wasn't telling the whole truth.
"Then I'll come with you," James offered.
"No need. I'm just going to walk around and gather information. I won't take any unnecessary risks," Evan said flatly, sounding stubbornly set on the idea.
"Be careful, then," James said.
Evan nodded, glancing briefly at each of them, then reached out to Jessica through a minor telepathic link. I'm going out. Keep an eye on James while I'm gone.
Jessica's eyes flickered. You suspect James?
I do. This whole thing is too strange for me not to be careful — everyone's a suspect right now. We haven't had contact with a single outsider since we arrived, and yet we were ambushed by afternoon. You should be ready for anything. Going out myself isn't something I want to do, but if I want to change the situation, I need to stir something up. A trace of cold amusement showed in Evan's eyes.
Understood. Take care of yourself, Jessica replied, her face giving nothing away — though inside, her thoughts churned.
Evan hadn't gone far before he noticed more than one group tailing him. A faint, mocking smile crossed his face. He hadn't shared all of this with Jessica — he'd always made a habit of assuming the worst of people, even while conducting himself with the best of intentions. James had settled into this unfamiliar town like a fish in water, and yet he'd turned up not a single scrap of information about the missing gathering team. That alone was strange enough.
Then there was his sudden fondness for drink, which struck Evan as equally out of place. James had clearly picked up the habit gradually, here in this town. A mage's self-discipline tended to run deep — if he'd always enjoyed wine, that would be understandable enough, but developing the taste only after giving up hope of advancing further was a different matter. And yet James showed no sign of the kind of despondency that usually came with such resignation. Evan himself was fond of good drink, but in the ordinary course of things he never touched a drop — James clearly wasn't operating under the same restraint. The very first thing he'd asked them, upon meeting, was whether they wanted wine or coffee. That alone was enough to raise Evan's suspicions.
Of course, whether a mage chose to drink was his own business, and no one would think twice about it under normal circumstances. What struck Evan as far stranger was the scene back at the cabin — when the thieves appeared, everyone else had tensed visibly, but James had shown not the faintest flicker of alarm. And afterward, while everyone else had thrown up a protective spell, James alone had done nothing.
These details were enough to make Evan suspicious, though he had no proof to act on — which was exactly why he'd only warned Jessica through the telepathic link rather than saying anything outright. Going out alone tonight was his way of creating an opening, a chance to rattle whatever was working against them.
The people trailing him now didn't hold much of his interest — clearly just hired hands from the local gangs. He walked into a tavern. Inside, the place was rowdy, the lighting dim, women in heavy makeup laughing here and there — some with genuine amusement, others with practiced, coquettish smiles — while burly, drunken men threw money around without a care. Most of them were adventurers, by the look of it, trading boasts with one another, arms wrapped around the women in their laps, hands wandering freely.
A place like this wasn't the sort Evan would normally frequent, but he walked in without hesitation, which caught his tail off guard for a moment. The instant he stepped inside and came to a stop, a woman with a flirtatious air sauntered up to him. "Handsome, buy me a drink?"
Evan smiled faintly and tossed down a gold coin without a second thought. Two glasses appeared in front of them almost at once. He raised his glass, clinked it against hers, something flickering briefly in his eyes, and drank.
"Handsome, you're awfully charming — not like most of the men around here. Why are you carrying a stick around?" the woman said, her face flushed slightly from the drink, eyes soft and inviting, letting the swell of her chest brush against his arm — deliberately, it seemed.
Evan smiled. "And what's your name, sweetheart?" He looked, on the surface, like a man led entirely by lust — but anyone who caught his eyes would have seen nothing there but perfect calm.
"They call me Feimaji," she murmured, leaning close to his ear, her tongue flicking out to give it the lightest touch, her eyes half-lidded and inviting.
Evan let himself seem overwhelmed by the display, pulling her into his arms and downing the rest of his drink in one go. A brief glint flashed in Feimaji's eyes, gone in an instant, replaced by a string of playful giggles.
"Handsome, what's your name?" Feimaji asked, nestled against him, still laughing softly.
"Evan Wang," he said, making no effort to hide it, though a trace of mockery flickered behind his eyes.
Evan wrapped an arm around Feimaji and steered them toward the door, leaving the men tailing him utterly bewildered by the whole display. His left arm stayed around her while his right hand kept its grip on the cane. Feimaji swayed against him, pouting playfully. "Why are you still carrying that stick around?"
"This is no ordinary stick. It's a sword-cane — a real weapon, if it comes to that," Evan said, giving the cane a showy little flourish, as though rather proud of it.
"You men are all the same — fighting and killing, day and night. I'm not talking to you anymore," Feimaji said with a huff, and Evan laughed heartily.
"Don't be upset, sweetheart. Where should we go? Find an inn?" Evan said, playing the part of a man completely lost to his own appetite.
"Come to my place. I'm no working girl — I have my own home," Feimaji said, giving him a playful, sidelong glare.
"I know you're not," Evan said with a laugh, the words denying it while his tone made it plain he believed otherwise entirely.
A cold little smile touched the corner of Feimaji's mouth for just a moment, before she slipped back into an expression far harder to resist. "I won't have it, handsome!"