Chapter 24: No Ill Intent (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 24: No Ill Intent (3)
Kairisis was vast.
Given the sheer size of the royal palace, it was only natural that the capital itself was sprawling. Finding Kyrie in such a massive city was like looking for a needle on a sandy beach. Fortunately, Calian knew what Kyrie was doing during this time, but pinpointing his exact location was the real challenge.
On top of that, there was another problem.
He couldn't think of a single place that would sell the item he needed.
That was why he had resorted to this madness: obtaining information and goods about Kairis from Secritian spies.
These people weren't mere information brokers. They were genuine killers, dispatched after years of meticulous preparation to spy on a foreign nation. That made this place incredibly dangerous.
Furthermore, Calian’s appearance was so striking that a single glance was all it would take for someone to recognize him. If they caught even a fleeting glimpse of his red eyes, things would spiral out of control. This was, without a doubt, sheer madness.
"I shall guide you to where the feed is kept," said the White Eagle, the guardian of the spies' safehouse. Once he confirmed Calian was not an enemy, his hostility and killing intent vanished completely.
I guess it's not my time to die just yet, Calian thought.
Even so, he did not let his guard down. Keeping himself carefully out of the White Eagle's striking range, Calian followed him toward the back of the shop.
Spies did not know each other's identities.
Even their home country never disclosed when, how many, or who was being dispatched. It was a safeguard to prevent a domino effect of exposure if one spy was caught. For the same reason, they never showed their faces to one another.
Moreover, Secritian spies of this era were trained without regard to age or gender. Thus, it wouldn't be unusual for a spy of Calian's age to exist.
Relying entirely on this circumstance, Calian had successfully led the White Eagle to believe he was a newly dispatched young spy from Secritia.
"Wait here a moment."
The space Calian was led into was cluttered with all kinds of junk: empty birdcages, feed troughs, perches of various shapes, cleaning tools, and more. Amidst the swirling dust, the White Eagle navigated the clutter with practiced ease. He grabbed a wooden rod that had been leaning against the wall as if it were just another piece of junk and pushed it in the opposite direction.
Clack, rattle!
The sound of winding chains echoed, and the entire room they stood in began to rotate slowly.
After a low rumble and a screech of friction, the space Calian occupied connected to the storehouse of another house. The White Eagle opened the storehouse door, revealing a narrow courtyard. The two quickly crossed the yard and entered the building.
Calian followed the White Eagle past the living room and up to the second floor. After passing through yet another hidden passage, they arrived at a room resembling a large study. A massive table sat in the center, surrounded on all sides by bookshelves and shelves packed to the brim.
"Have a seat."
The White Eagle poured a cup of water and handed it to Calian. Having recently suffered immensely from being poisoned, Calian accepted the cup but set it down without taking a sip.
Seeing this, the White Eagle grumbled, "Right. I used to serve tea, you know. But absolutely no one would drink it. Seemed like a waste to throw away expensive tea leaves, so I switched to water. Now people won't even touch that. I'm thinking of not serving anything at all."
It seemed Calian wasn't the only one to refuse a drink, and having his hospitality constantly rejected had clearly annoyed him. Calian replied with a faint smile.
"Someone told me not to consume just anything."
"Well, that's true enough. You must be a rookie. Since we'll likely cross paths often, you might as well know my name. I am the White Eagle."
Calian already knew his name but simply nodded without showing it. He spoke, revealing an alias he had prepared—one that no one in Secritia had ever used.
"Red Swan."
Calian had felt like a swan when he first met Lemain. Since his outward appearance differed so vastly from his inner self, there could be no alias more fitting.
"I see. Pleasure to meet you. So, what kind of feed are you looking for?"
The role of this establishment was to sell spies the basic information and equipment necessary for their work. That was the "feed."
Calian glanced at the bookshelves and shelves. "One piece of information, and one item."
The White Eagle held out his palm. "Information is five florins, the item is three. Payment upfront."
It was strange that he quoted a price without even asking what Calian wanted. The operation of this place was entirely at the White Eagle's discretion and not reported back to Secritia, so even Calian hadn't known about this. Sensing Calian's thoughts, the White Eagle added an explanation.
"Fixed pricing."
Calian wondered if he could buy a gold bar for three florins. Of course, he didn't say it aloud, not wanting to make a fool of himself.
Calian pulled eight gold coins from his breast pocket and handed them over. It was pricier than he had expected, but he had no choice. Accepting the payment, the White Eagle pulled up a chair and sat down.
"Alright. Speak."
Calian explained what he needed. Without a word, the White Eagle stood up and busied himself around the room. Soon, he returned with a map and a small object wrapped in paper, sitting back down in front of Calian.
Sliding the small object toward Calian first, the White Eagle said, "First, the item."
Then, he pushed the map forward. "And the information."
Calian unfurled the map. It was a detailed map of Kairisis, with a single point marked near the center. Puzzled, Calian asked, "Is this the only such place in Kairisis?"
The White Eagle nodded. He made a punching gesture as he replied, "If you're looking for a facility on the scale you described, that's the only one."
This meant the probability of Kyrie being anywhere other than Kairisis was extremely low. Calian's suspicion that the child he had encountered on his way to the performance hall was indeed Kyrie turned into near certainty.
"That's a relief."
Still, five florins for a single marked map felt like a rip-off. As Calian tucked the two items into his pocket, feeling slightly cheated, the White Eagle held out another slip of paper. It was covered in dense handwriting. When Calian hesitated, the White Eagle grinned, showing his white teeth.
"Instruction manual."
I guess it wasn't a complete rip-off after all.
Calian let out a soft chuckle and took the paper. Instead of returning to the shop through the storehouse, he exited directly through the front door of the house.
Looking around, he realized he was behind the bird shop. Rather than walking back to the front, Calian spoke in a low voice.
"Raven."
Before long, the sound of clopping hooves echoed, and Raven trotted out of the darkness, a white stripe moving through the shadows. Calian quickly mounted him and rode away from the area. A short while later, he pulled up in front of a moderately lit, secluded cafe and opened the map and the instructions.
Take care of yourself. It's a rough place.
The White Eagle's parting words came back to him. Calian scoffed softly and muttered, "As if it could be any more dangerous than you."
To reach the location marked on the map, he had to retrace his steps. After carefully reading and memorizing the instructions, Calian burned both the map and the paper using a candle flickering at the cafe's entrance.
* * *
Deep worry clouded Calian's eyes.
It wasn't because he had lost his way after burning the map. The map had been precise, and there was only one open establishment nearby. What troubled him was the name of the tavern written above the entrance of the two-story building.
—Sispanian's Deep Alcohol Smell
Why, of all places?
"Sigh..."
It was the exact same tavern he had looked at with disgust on his way to the bird shop. Staring down at the entrance once more, Calian felt incredibly conflicted.
"Seriously, who names a tavern like that? Sispanian is technically royalty. Doesn't the royal family prosecute for lèse-majesté?"
As if on cue, a memory from the original Calian surfaced, providing an answer.
After Hatsuara's death, Sispanian did not act as queen, so she was hardly considered proper royalty.
With a look of profound exasperation, Calian handed Raven's reins to a stable boy and entered the tavern.
The interior wasn't much different from taverns in Secritia. It was filled with the musty scent of aged oak barrels and the bitter, sour aroma of hops.
"Meeting someone?" a man who appeared to be a waiter asked as he approached. His steps were slightly stiff, likely because a hooded customer had just walked in so late at night.
"I'm alone."
It hadn't mattered at the bird shop, but here, his youthful voice clearly puzzled the waiter.
Instead of explaining, Calian pulled out a silver coin and pressed it into the man's hand. Understanding the gesture perfectly, the waiter's suspicion vanished instantly.
"Let me guide you to an empty table."
Calian shook his head and spoke exactly as the instruction manual had directed.
"I'm going to the fourth floor."
To anyone's eyes, this was clearly a two-story building. Yet, instead of pointing this out, the waiter replied, "Yes. Follow me."
Calian tensed up again as he followed the waiter. Since it was late and most of the patrons were heavily intoxicated, he was able to move without drawing much attention.
After passing five or six tables and turning a corner, they reached a thick wooden door. The waiter pulled a key from his pocket, unlocked it, and gestured for Calian to enter.
"Please, step inside."
Calian nodded and stepped into the room. The waiter turned on the light and closed the door from the outside without another word. Shortly after, the sound of his footsteps faded away.
Calian silently surveyed his surroundings.
The room was furnished as a private space where four or five people could gather quietly to drink, containing a square table and a cabinet. Aside from that, there was only a cord with a handle to ring for service, a framed painting of incomprehensible design, and a built-in coat rack.
At a glance, it looked like an ordinary private room designed for confidential conversations. Of course, Calian knew better.
The butterfly shape, the third one.
The instructions had been thorough. Calian walked to the opposite wall, his eyes fixed on the butterfly-shaped pewter coat hangers.
He grabbed the third of the six hangers and twisted it. The hanger began to rotate. Just as it turned nearly ninety degrees—
Click.
It stopped with a soft click. Calian released his grip, moved to the cabinet in the corner of the room, and slid it aside.
Without requiring much effort, the unlocked cabinet moved smoothly, revealing a staircase leading down.
Taking a deep breath, Calian prepared himself to draw his knife at a moment's notice and stepped onto the stairs.
The descent wasn't too difficult, as there was just enough light to see his footing. After walking down for a while, he paused.
"The third floor."
The number '3' was written at the entrance to an adjacent area.
"Must be a card gambling den."
The entrance was shrouded by a dark curtain, but through the gaps, he could see the silhouettes of several men gathered around round tables. Calian paid no heed and continued down the stairs.
As he descended a flight nearly twice as long as the last, the roar of a crowd began to drift up to him.
Before long, the stairs ended, revealing an entrance marked with the number '4'.
"This is it."
The shouting was now loud enough to ring in his ears.
Calian took another deep breath. Then, without any further hesitation, he stepped inside.
The place he had just entered was an underground fighting ring.
It was also where he would find Kyrie, the swordsman who had abandoned his sword.