Flashgold Town, in the afternoon.
A middle-aged man clad in a black waistcoat, of exceedingly ordinary appearance, stepped into the noisy tavern belonging to the family with thick eyebrows.
At this time, the tavern was gradually filling with people—many mercenaries, artisans of various trades, idlers, and even off-duty law enforcement officers would come for a drink to relax after a day’s hard work.
The man in black quietly ordered the most common rye beer and began sipping it in small mouthfuls.
What went unnoticed was that his ears twitched slightly, as if he was carefully discerning whether there was any information he needed in the patrons’ boasts and conversations.
He was known as “Poison Blade,” an assassin nurtured by the Brotherhood of the Wilderness, tasked mainly with dealing with people and matters that couldn’t withstand the light of day.
This time, he had received orders from above; apparently, a big shot had commanded him to kill a young man and suggested that it would be best if the death looked accidental.
Upon receiving the mission, ‘Poison Blade’ immediately conducted a detailed analysis of the target based on the information given.
‘Rein, aged between 14-16, the son of a farmer from Flashgold Town, currently undergoing servant training at the Habsburg manor, combat strength rating: Militia+.’
When ‘Poison Blade’ first saw the information before him, he didn’t show any signs of surprise.
Because the whims of important figures are always a bit peculiar.
In the past, he had done dirtier jobs involving even stranger targets such as a viscount’s personal maid, a baroness’s accompanying guard, and even a newborn baby from a noble family.
Soon, ‘Poison Blade,’ who was all ears, picked up the information he needed amidst the clamor of the tavern.
“What a tragedy! The only son of the Aiwen family died during servant training at the Habsburg manor, eaten alive by a Gnoll,” said a man with a horse-like face dressed as a mercenary.
“Really? I thought the Habsburg manor always had guards. If even that place isn’t safe, doesn’t that make Flashgold Town even less so?” The burly man across from him looked skeptical as he drank.
“Ha! Don’t be so quick to doubt! The son of the owner of this very Oak Tavern, where we are now, was training with the Aiwen boy. When that kid came back yesterday, he was scared out of his wits!”
“However… I’ve heard he was the first one to cry for help at that time!”
“Look! That’s the young man sitting over there,” the horse-faced mercenary lifted his head, gesturing.
The burly man immediately looked over and nodded, no longer doubting. The young man sitting there was indeed the son of the owner of the Oak Tavern, apparently named Richard, whom he had met a few times.
“So it looks like the story must be true.”
“So is the servant training suspended now?”
“Of course, the training’s been put on hold ever since the incident,” the horse-faced mercenary gulped down half a glass of rye beer and belched contentedly!
‘Poison Blade’ quickly learned that the servant training the target was attending had been suspended.
“In that case, there’s no need to carry out my original plan of sneaking into the Habsburg manor.”
“The most difficult part of the mission was unexpectedly avoided.”
This brought a slight smile to ‘Poison Blade’s’ face.
The reduction in mission difficulty was certainly good news.
Now, all he had to do was lie in wait on the target’s journey home and kill him.
Strength slightly better than that of a militia, heh.
…
Meanwhile.
Inside Lord Hamilton’s office at the Flashgold Town government hall,
Weilun and Rein sat in front of Hamilton’s desk, reporting on the situation of their trip.
“So, the number of fishmen greatly exceeded expectations this time?” Hamilton’s brows furrowed slightly, but the next second they relaxed.
“The scout report was flawed, but you still completed the mission very well. Good job, really excellent work!” Hamilton looked at Weilun and Rein appreciatively.
Pairing the two of them together seemed to be quite a good idea after all.
Rein grew strong very quickly, capable of taking on ‘hard bones’, but he lacked experience.
Weilun, on the other hand, was seasoned and slick, but his strength was average. When facing enemies with stronger capabilities, he was at a complete loss.
The two complemented each other perfectly.
At that moment, Weilun gave Rein a glance and continued his report to Hamilton with a solemn face:
“My lord, after we eradicated that small evil fin fishmen tribe, we also discovered ogre footprints nearby.”
“What? You’ve found traces of an ogre? How many?” Hamilton asked in surprise, his hands propping up the mahogany desk as he immediately stood up.
“Yes, Lord Hamilton. Near the fishmen camp, we found huge footprints left by an ogre. After an initial survey, they appear to belong to the same ogre.”
“That means we can confirm the presence of at least one ogre.”
“But as for whether there are any other ogres, we are not sure.”
Perhaps worried about misleading his superior’s judgment, Captain Weilun spoke very cautiously about this matter.
“Good, it’s right to be cautious. Ogres are not something you can handle,” Hamilton replied, regaining his composure and slowly sitting down again.
“It seems that we need to report this matter to the County Town.”
“I’m still recovering from my injuries; if an ogre attack like the one in Albero Town occurs, that would be terrible.”
After pondering for a moment, Hamilton picked up a quill pen and began writing swiftly on a piece of paper. Once he finished, he sealed it in an envelope.
Hamilton then took out a red granule the size of a fingernail from a drawer, placed it on the seal of the envelope, and pressed down hard with his left fist!
After Hamilton lifted his hand, the red granule had been flattened, revealing the embossed image of a mounted Night Watchman holding a torch on the wax seal.
It was then that Rein noticed Hamilton’s ring on his left middle finger was a seal ring, with an indented surface bearing a special pattern or text representing its owner.
After completing these actions, Hamilton rang a delicate copper bell on the desk.
“Ding-a-ling-a-ling!”
A young man dressed as a guard walked in and bowed slightly, “Lord Hamilton, what are your commands?”
“Hudson, you must go to the County Town immediately and deliver this letter to Viscount Hamadi, the sheriff there. Do not delay on this matter, go now!” Hamilton commanded sternly.
“By your command, Lord Hamilton,” Hudson, the guard, saluted and quickly left the office.
“Weilun, tell the Night Watchmen to increase the frequency of patrols at night for the next few days… I will have the guards participate as well,” Hamilton ordered.
“As you command, Lord Hamilton,” Weilun also stood up to leave and make the arrangements.
Now in the office, it was just Rein and Hamilton.
On the way, Captain Weilun had not been very clear when talking about ogres, and now Rein wanted to ask for more details: “My lord, are you also concerned about ogres, with your strength?”
Hamilton nodded solemnly:
“These evil and brutal humanoid creatures grow to an average height of three meters and weigh seven to eight hundred pounds as adults. They are adept at using weapons like giant wooden clubs and mallets. Even full-fledged Knights find it difficult to withstand their blows in direct combat.”
‘Three meters’ ‘Seven to eight hundred pounds’?
Upon hearing these figures, Rein felt a chill of shock. He knew all too well what those numbers signified.