Chapter 214: Announcement
The sun had risen in the central plaza district of Rujgard. It didn’t arrive with chirping birds or gentle morning bells; it broke through a stubborn blanket of yellow fog that smelled of stale ale, gutter brine, and unwashed wool.
The area was already swarming. Fugitives from both empires rubbed shoulders with exiled cutthroats from the southern valleys, disgraced alchemists haggled over jars of murky bile, and half-starved pickpockets drifted through the crowd like hungry gulls. There were ordinary merchants, too—bakers and cobblers whose eyes were just a little too hard and whose aprons concealed short daggers.
In this city, everyone was either running from a noose or tying one for someone else.
Gold Perched on a pair of weathered salt crates at the side of the road.
Baron squeezed onto an overturned packing crate beside her, he looked like an overripe plum about to burst.
"Of all the corners of the world..." Kiliyan whimpered under his breath as three tattooed mercenaries with jagged cleavers strode past. "How did we end up here? Why Rujgard?!"
"Ask that question to the rats who hired you, piggy," Gold murmured, not bothering to turn her head.
"I will have you know I am a noble! You will address me with the proper respect due to my station—"
"I will carve that title into your gravestone with the same courtesy I gave your two aides," she replied, completely flat. "Quiet down before I take your tongue to save on noise complaints."
Kiliyan clamped his mouth shut so fast his teeth clicked, shrinking back into the burlap like a frightened turtle.
"Breakfast is served, ladies and gentlemen," a cheerful voice broke in.
Eren strolled out of the crowd with his hands full, looking entirely cheerful amidst the chaos, carrying a half-dozen skewers.
He gave some to Gold and shoved another into Kiliyan’s trembling fingers.
"Take heart, piggy," Eren grinned, leaning his shoulder against the wooden awning post. "The locals actually accept our country’s coins. Truly, the free market at its finest."
Both Gold and Kiliyan stared down at the sizzling skewers with profound, unblinking suspicion.
Eren raised a brow, letting out a dry scoff. "Oh, come off it. If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t bother to spend money on food and poison."
Reluctantly, Gold reached beneath the chin of her mask, tilting the lower rim just enough to clear her lips, and took a cautious, tiny bite. Her eyes flickered. Kiliyan, driven by primal, stress-induced gluttony, practically inhaled his skewer in two frantic chews, burning the roof of his mouth with a muffled wheeze.
"Now that we’re properly fed," Kiliyan whispered frantically, wiping fat from his jowls, "how do we get out of this slaughterhouse? We need to leave! Today! Before the syndicate catches us!"
"We aren’t taking the main gates," Gold rasped, chewing slowly. "The perimeter has checkpoints. Every single soul entering or leaving requires a registered pass. None of us have that. And we aren’t breaking through like heroic knights."
She paused, watching a squad of heavy-armored enforcers patrol the far corner of the square.
"Rujgard is the only place on this continent where I refuse to gamble with force."
Eren took a bite of his skewer, listening to her breakdown with a quiet, knowing smirk.
Honestly, he had to give credit where it was due: the assassin had good instincts.
In the original game storyline, Rujgard was a notorious late-game nightmare zone. Even when the player reached the heights of progression and Alice forged a temporary pact with the Veldora kingdom after learning Rujgard helping demons, a direct siege on Rujgard was hardcoded suicide.
The nation simply collapsed the mountain choke points, flooded the lower tiers with toxin, and let the labyrinth of tunnels drown the invaders.
All Alice had been able to do in that route was slip in under the radar, secure the objective, and slip out through the same blind spot Eren was currently eyeing.
"Well, it’s a good thing I didn’t plan on knocking on the front door," Eren said, tossing his clean wooden stick into an empty barrel with casual precision. "We’re going by sea."
Gold froze mid-chew. Kiliyan blinked, utterly bewildered.
"The sea?" the woman echoed, tilting her head back toward him. "The eastern cliffs? Are you completely insane?"
"Think about it logically, shiny," Eren drawled, dusting spice from his fingertips. "The gates are heavily monitored by the city’s cartels, but the harbor? We give pirates a handful of coins and we’re riding the current straight past the continental border."
Gold pulled her mask back down, staring up at him through the slits as if she were looking at an escaped mental patient.
"Your grand, masterclass survival strategy..." she whispered in deadpan disbelief, "...is to hand a bag of gold to ruthless, cutthroat pirates and politely ask them not to slit our throats and dump our bodies to the sharks while we sleep?"
"Hey," Eren said, smiling, his dark blue eyes gleaming with unhinged, effortless confidence. "I’m extremely charming when I want to be. And if they try anything funny... well, you still have your knives, and I’ve always wanted to try my hand at maritime mutiny."
Before Gold could elaborate on her blistering critique of his nautical expertise, the morning crowd abruptly turned into a frantic tide, stampeding straight toward the massive stone pavilion rising at the plaza’s geometric center.
A burly dwarven smith barreled through, clipping Eren’s shoulder without an apology.
Baron Kiliyan lost his footing, letting out a frightened piglet squeal as his bulk tilted toward the muddy cobblestones.
Eren grabbed the nobleman by the burlap sack around his collar and yanked him back onto his feet with zero effort.
"Whoa there, piggy, watch out," Eren muttered, steadying the shuddering heap before glancing over the sea of bobbing heads. "What’s happening? Is it free public execution Wednesday?"
Gold hopped down from the salt crates, landing in a low, coiled crouch. Her eyes were glued to the raised stone platform looming over the square.
"An assembly," she murmured. "A sector-wide summons."
"An announcement?" Eren repeated, an amused brow twitching upward beneath his dark bangs. "In a lawless anarchist haven? What, does the local pirate syndicate hold regular municipal town halls to discuss municipal sewage upkeep?"
"Shut up and blend in," she hissed, yanking her frayed hood further down.
In less than two minutes, over two thousand people gathered.
Then, a figure bounded up the steps of the raised platform.
Eren’s blue eyes locked onto the man, and for a split second, his brain flatlined in sheer, bewildered dissonance.
That guy was wearing a tight, sleeveless black tank top that left his chiseled biceps completely exposed. Black-ink tattoos wrapped around both of his forearms, featuring stylized block lettering that looked suspiciously like contemporary street calligraphy.
And then there was the hair. Sharp spikes held rigid with what could only be industrial-strength wax—a style that belonged dead-center on a late-nineties Tokyo street corner rather than a fantasy world.
He moved with loose-limbed, bouncing swagger, rolling his neck. Reaching out, he snatched an amplified megaphone device from an underling, tapped the mouthpiece twice with a silver ring, and cleared his throat.
SKRRR-THUMP.