Chapter 117
Chapter 117
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 117
Chapter Title: Blood-Colored New Moon (1)
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Luata was one of the handful of great cities in the Southeast Archdiocese.
The surrounding land was fertile, making farming prosperous, and it sat at a key point for land transport. A bit further downriver led to Nijerte and out to the sea, so water transport was decent too.
Like any thriving city, even after sunset, the main streets of Luata were lit by oil lamps, keeping foot traffic brisk.
Of course, that only applied to the 'main streets.'
The farther out toward the city edges, the shabbier the living conditions, the worse the security, and the dimmer the lights.
Especially around the north gate slums, a person or two dropping dead in a dark alley barely raised an eyebrow. The residents had grown numb or resigned, carrying on indifferently.
Someone was walking those nighttime streets.
A baggy robe hid his build, a hood shadowed his face. A fairly long beard barely hinted at his gender.
He looked plenty suspicious, but around the north gate, it was standard fashion. The area crawled with criminals, after all.
Guided by moonlight, the man spotted a lit building and approached slowly. A faint whiff of alcohol carried on the air.
Among north side locals, it was known as the place for halfway decent booze at halfway decent prices.
The man entered.
Or rather, only as far as the courtyard wall.
"......"
Glancing around, he confirmed no eyes on him and headed straight for the back yard instead of the shop interior.
The yard was littered with firewood and trash, plus an outhouse and shed.
Knock knock knock—knock knock—knock—
The man rapped on the shed wall nine times.
Moments later, the shed door—supposedly locked tight—cracked open.
The waiting man slipped quietly inside. The door shut behind him.
The shed, without even windows, was crammed with boxes stacked haphazardly to the ceiling.
It was a decoy.
The boxes were only piled near the entrance. Circling behind revealed a separate space inside.
"Quite the nasty setup......"
The man muttered softly.
Not sure what to call it, but if he had to pick a term, maybe a visitation room for serious criminals.
The tiny, windowless room was lit by a faint lantern, barely illuminating anything.
The only furniture was a hard chair, blocked by iron bars. Another chair sat beyond, backed by a curtain hiding whatever lay behind.
"Comes with the territory of such dirty work."
A voice drifted from the shadowed figure in the far chair. Relaxed like an old man's, but nothing else could be gleaned.
"Better this way for you too, no? Wouldn't want to advertise your face."
"......Fair enough. As long as the job's done right."
The man clicked his tongue lightly, took a seat, let out a long sigh, and got straight to it.
"Looking for a man and a woman."
"Pay?"
"Minimum five hundred."
"Ho."
The old man's eyes glinted faintly in the dark.
With the premium for shady dealings inflating the price several times over the effort, five hundred gold coins was still a rare big fish. And that was the minimum.
"Details."
"Man's got black hair. Taller than average by half a head, handsome face, lean build."
"Vague as that? Hundreds in this city alone."
"Look at the woman with him."
"She stand out?"
"Long blonde hair, golden eyes. Carries a mace...... Always in white priest robes."
The golden eyes and mace already screamed a certain profession, but the old man's expression soured at the last detail.
"Target's a cleric?"
"Told you she's traveling with the man."
"Ah, a wandering priest on pilgrimage. That changes things."
The old man's tone softened.
No assassin, no matter how bold, messed lightly with clerics. Their diocese would erupt, launching investigations that were a huge pain.
But a cleric on pilgrimage? Different story.
They left their diocese for distant travels, so vanishing midway was hard to trace.
Indeed, overconfident criminals often gave them hell, which was why the church discouraged pilgrimages.
Of course, outright assassinations were rare...... but not unheard of.
"What do you want?"
"Man comes out unharmed, not a hair hurt."
"Civilian?"
"Not...... exactly."
"......If you know, spit it out precisely."
"......Warrior. Not Silver."
"Even Bronze near Silver's a tall order. We specialize in killing."
"As long as no traces linger?"
"Easy."
"Then bring him that way. Much obliged."
'Traces' here meant injuries healable by clerical miracles, not beatings that showed.
No chopping limbs or gutting organs—that was straightforward.
"Her level?"
"High priest, far as I know."
Made sense. Regular priests only healed, no buffs, so negligible combat power. With the man at Bronze...
Any grunt could grab her, no need for a five-hundred-gold hit.
"Kill the woman, fine. Bring her alive, another five hundred."
"Condition?"
"Breathing's enough."
High priest or not, Silver rank at best, and pure combat weaker than top Silver warriors. Assassination was trivial.
Subduing was a minor hassle, but five hundred extra for a bit more work? Obvious choice.
"All handled in strict secrecy, naturally?"
"Of course. Even on pilgrimage, kidnap rumors hurt us all."
Success or failure, they settled contact methods for results.
The man rose, pulled a coin pouch from his bosom, and set it on the chair. Advance payment.
"She's all yours."
"Leave it to us."
The man nodded heavily, turned to leave the cramped room.
Just before the door shut, he added curtly.
"Don't even think about tailing me. Hate having a shadow."
The old man didn't reply. The man didn't wait for one.
As the shed door clicked shut, the old man murmured.
"Tail him."
"Yes, sir."
The subordinate who'd opened the door earlier vanished outside.
The old man unlocked the bars, checked the pouch. Fifty gold coins. Ten percent of the fee.
Pocketing it, he returned behind the curtain, where a few more belongings waited.
In the prison-like space, he lay comfortably on the bed for rest.
Minutes later, the subordinate returned.
"Sorry."
"Spotted?"
"Yes. Said this is the last warning before next time he won't let it slide......"
"His skill?"
"Incredibly fast. Mid-to-upper Silver at least."
"A house dropping a thousand gold upfront won't send small fry."
Failed tail notwithstanding, the old man wasn't too put out. The greeters here weren't elite killers anyway—just a casual probe.
"Fine. We'll ID his contacts when we hand off later. Contact HQ."
"Yes."
Meanwhile, sensing the tail and shaking it, the man stayed vigilant en route.
No suspicious presences pinged his senses anymore. Warning landed.
Just before fully exiting north side after a long trek.
Snap!
He ripped off the fake beard in one go, flipped robe inside out—reversing colors—instantly. Hood off, he strolled casually. Unlike north, central streets still bustled; he blended seamlessly.
Descending nonstop to south side, he strode into an upscale inn's annex.
"Success?"
Elisa Oceanis asked, a touch anxious. The man—Terti—nodded.
"Commission placed safely. Shook the tail."
"Phew."
"Still, stay sharp next few days. Never thought I'd stoop to acting."
Terti flopped into the opposite chair with a groan.
"Sorry. Would've been better if I'd gone myself......"
"Better than raising flags. We planned this already. Don't sweat it."
Elisa's clue, unearthed through a year of grueling toil, was trivially small.
Which was why her foes dismissed it, leaving her be.
But exposing Jerbon's assassination backers? Miles short.
She only 'suspected' one of the siblings' aides met an assassin group here. Needed to raid them, confirm 'actual' contact.
Elisa knew jack about the group beyond contact method.
'New Moon'—proper name or code?—and undisputed deadliest in the southeast.
Base? No clue. If easy to find, victims would've crushed them ages ago.
Pondering how to track them...
Lilia proposed: Use the method, commission her own hit. Fake reason.
If New Moon was guilty, they might recognize Elisa, so Terti subbed.
"Safest would've been storming the meet spot. Just two of 'em."
Terti grumbled—not from hassle of disguise and evasion, but worry for Galen and Lilia.
His idea was already shot down by them.
Safe, sure, guaranteed catch maybe, but no assurance of HQ intel from grunts.
Valid. They might not know, or clam up. Hours later, group goes dark.
Had to strike head-on, decapitate in one go.
Terti knew. Just venting frustration at the impossibility.
"I tried talking her out too, reckless as it was...... But Bishop Lilia insisted so hard. Hard to argue when she said it's the only surefire way to meet an assassin......"
"Urgh."
"Still...... Galen approved, so it'll be fine, right?"
Elisa ventured cautiously.
"Neither you nor I know Bishop Lilia well."
"True. Her being bishop at that age is unbelievable alone."
"Galen traveled with her over a year, so he knows her strength best. Must figure she can handle it."
"Seemed pretty reluctant, though......"
"Overly enthusiastic would've been weirder. It is risky......"
"Ugh."
Terti sighed deeply.
"Enough worrying, Lady Elisa. Spilled milk now."
"Yeah. Just wait."
Elisa sighed back.
Their life paths diverged utterly.
Yet in this moment, identical thoughts.
"Please, let them be safe......"
Genuine worry brimmed for Galen and Lilia.
Yet oddly, a strange reassurance they would be fine.