Chapter 284 - Clue (3)
The "Lower-class" faction, led by Rat and Retz, was composed of vagrants and paupers.
A group of the weak, disadvantaged by disability, status, or poverty.
Driven out of daily life, they were forced to settle in a harsh and barren environment, like the underground sewers of the autonomous territory.
As a result, many of them perished, yet some succeeded in adapting.
They developed strong resistance that no ordinary disease could invade, and their survival-oriented way of thinking manifested as cruelty and desperation.
That was why no one dared to make them enemies.
To fight against those with nothing to lose, who wielded poison as weapons, would mean unimaginable losses.
Even if one struggled against them, there was nothing to be gained.
Among the nine back-alley organizations, the Lower-class faction was the most persistent and dangerous community.
...
But that faction had been annihilated.
Not just anywhere, but in the very underground sewers they had made their home, the deep place they themselves considered too dangerous to approach.
This was not something to be easily overlooked.
Whether the corpses had been moved here, or whether they had been massacred here, one thing was clear — the culprit was not an abnormal species, but a human.
A sudden chill ran down their spines.
Frankie and Baldar looked at each other.
"…Let's run."
Their thoughts aligned.
The two immediately turned their backs and retraced the way they had come.
They had no time to care whether filth splattered on their skin. If they lingered even for a moment, they might become one with that pile of corpses.
Escaping the underground sewer was the most urgent priority.
And they had to report the information they had just obtained to their superior.
Money or whatever else — safety came first.
***
The restless streets bustled with crowds.
A man trudging home after work, a woman carrying a basket while shopping at the market, an adventurer returning from a demi-human subjugation, mercenaries preparing to head out as hired guards, and even a mysterious figure cloaked head to toe in a green robe.
No matter where one looked, the streets were full of all sorts of people.
Compared to when he had first arrived in the autonomous territory, the atmosphere was a little livelier.
Well, when hundreds of people stirred up the entire city, such change was inevitable.
Verdin rode in a carriage along such a street.
He wandered aimlessly through back alleys, taverns, eateries, blacksmiths, magic item shops — leisurely, with no clear destination, deliberately complicating his trail.
Soon, the sun began to set, and twilight painted the sky.
Verdin's blue eyes, which had been staring into the air, shifted to the window outside.
'So far, I've counted five tails.'
Three on the ground, two in the sky.
Judging by their somewhat clumsy yet uniform movements, the former seemed to be knights, while the latter, using magical concealment, were identified as mages belonging to two different magic towers.
They had thoroughly hidden themselves, keeping proper distance as they followed, yet not enough to escape Verden's senses.
'I thought they might come to assassinate me, but perhaps I was overthinking it.'
That seemed to be the case.
He had even passed through deserted, damp areas to expose openings, yet there had been no ambush.
A disappointingly dull outcome.
'Still, it's clear now that the magic tower has joined hands with the lord of the autonomous territory.'
The attempt by the Magic Tower of the Volcanic Island and the Larrian Magic Tower to exclude the Bohemirn Magic Tower alongside the territory lord — what had been suspicion until now had become certainty today.
Now, if he could identify the third force that, under orders from the magic towers and the territory lord, was practically hostile to the Bohemirn Magic Tower, he could achieve his original goal.
The method was not difficult at all.
At the meeting with the territory lord in about three days, he only had to instill a sense of crisis.
For instance, by dropping the name of the Mamentus Merchant Guild, and casually mentioning rumors about the Bohemirn Magic Tower, irritating the other party.
'That will make them try to kill me.'
Just as they had killed the head of the Mamentus Merchant Guild.
Especially since the territory lord would fear retaliation from the Bohemirn Magic Tower, he would try to eliminate potential threats in advance.
Then, Verden could use that opportunity to make contact with the third force.
The subsequent persuasion and negotiations would be the real issue, but those could be judged according to circumstances.
Verdin concluded his thoughts and spoke.
"Let's return now."
"Yes, understood."
The coachman turned the carriage around.
As soon as Verden showed signs of returning, the five pursuers gradually vanished, until none remained.
He thought they would watch until the end, but apparently, with evening came "quitting time". They lacked persistence more than expected.
After a short while, they arrived at the mansion.
As if already informed, Padreld was waiting.
"Welcome back, Sir Asher. Dinner is just ready."
Verdin nodded and walked forward.
Just as he opened the iron-barred gate and stepped into the garden, noisy footsteps sounded nearby.
He turned his gaze and recognized the faces.
Frankie and Baldar.
The two, running past the figure in the green robe, were filthy, as though they had just crawled out of the sewers.
Even from a distance, the foul stench pricked his nose.
Their expressions and ragged breaths made it clear they were in a rush.
It was obvious they had no time even to wash, meaning the matter was urgent.
"Dinner will have to wait."
Verdin knew instinctively.
***
The underground sewer of the autonomous territory.
The light of mana lamps brightly illuminated the space where the corpses had been piled. Four shadows were cast there.
"H-here it is, Sir Asher."
Baldar, panting for breath, pointed ahead.
From the sewers to the mansion and back almost nonstop, his exhaustion was plain. Add to that the fact he had neither eaten nor drunk properly all day.
Frankie, who had accompanied him the whole way, could barely speak coherently.
"This is…"
Padreld, who had come along, furrowed his brow.
He drew a cheap dagger and lightly turned over one of the corpses floating in the shallow water.
Rotten lumps of flesh swarming with white maggots reflected in his eyes. Fleshless bones were being gnawed at by grotesque insects.
Among them was a severed arm, as if torn off, still wearing a blue bracelet.
"There is no doubt this was the Lower-class faction. Only their leader, Retz, wore such a shabby bracelet. And judging by their clothes, most of these are vagrants."
The exact time of death could not be determined.
It was, after all, the damp, filthy, and hazardous underground sewers. The decay of bodies was accelerated here, and the gnawing by various vermin had made the damage even worse.
Had a few more days passed, there would have been hardly a trace left.
"..."
Verdin floated in the air with
As he surveyed the surroundings, he activated his mana circuits.
Magic power sank across the entire space.
In an instant, Verden grasped all the information, and he pointed toward some remains in the corner.
"There's a corpse wearing a steel breastplate, is that also part of the Lower-class faction?"
"Eh? No, as far as I know they don't use that kind of armor… Let me check. Frankie, Baldar, give me a hand."
The three examined the corpse with blades.
After struggling under the mana lamp's light to somehow confirm the identity, they discovered an empty, half-rotten red leather wallet lodged between the ribs.
Seeing it, Frankie's eyes widened.
"W-wait. This guy, isn't he Dalton?"
"Dalton… you mean the guard of the Rainbow-hued Inn? Are you sure?"
"Look carefully. Remember? That bastard imported this wallet directly from the Republic and bragged about it at the tavern. A bunch of guys tried to steal it, and about four of them ended up dead."
"Ah, now that you mention it, I recall hearing that. Thieves tried to rob the guard, and had their heads cut off in a single stroke."
The three muttered among themselves while staring at the corpse.
From behind, Verden crossed his arms and furrowed his brow.
'Before the fire broke out at the Rainbow-hued Inn, I heard it happened while the guard was away… so was it these bastards who did it?'
Without a doubt, they must have been commissioned by someone.
And after finishing the job, they came here to receive their reward, only to be disposed of in this sewer. That would explain why the inn's guard had died alongside the Lower-class faction.
The details might differ, but the general flow fit. Circumstances left little room for another explanation.
The magic towers or the territory lord likely didn't involve themselves directly.
Which meant, most likely, the third force carrying out their orders had done this with their own hands.
'And the clue is here.'
With Telekinesis, Verden lifted something from the filthy floor.
It was a half-burnt scrap of paper, in other words, part of a tobacco leaf.
Judging by the faintly dark green cross-section, it was clearly the common tobacco banned by the Church of Luas.
'No one among these corpses could have been the one smoking this.'
It was too difficult to obtain, and the price too high.
For the Lower-class faction or an inn guard to have used it made no sense. If they had been the consumers, the smugglers would have mentioned it long ago.
Verden asked Padreld.
"Is producing tobacco easy?"
"Eh? Ah, yes. If you have the ingredients, anyone can make something similar. In fact, if you look around, the materials can be found not only on the Central Continent, but also in the East or West Continents. Distribution is difficult, but if someone wants to, they can make it anywhere."
"Then who are the main consumers of tobacco?"
"Mm, that would be…"
Padreld scratched the bridge of his nose.
After thinking a moment, he spoke.
"Most likely, those from the Central Continent. They would use it legally there, but once they went to another continent, being unable to touch it would make them frustrated and restless. It really does have that level of addictiveness. In fact, in the smuggling world, the rate of repeat purchases by existing customers is far higher than that of new customers."
"From the Central Continent, then."
Verden pieced together the information he had gathered so far.
The strong hostility toward the Bohemirn Magic Tower.
Their willingness to ally with other towers, suggesting a personal grudge against the Bohemirn Magic Tower.
And now, the connection to the Central Continent.
'The outline is becoming clearer.'
At this moment, the existence of a third force was confirmed.
And even its identity was beginning to take vague shape.
***
"Well done. Go and rest."
Verden tossed them a sack full of money.
Frankie instinctively caught it, feeling the heavy weight press through his arms. Peeking inside, the smell of money poured out.
The scent of cash seemed to instantly blow away the stench of sewage.
"Holy… how much is this—ah, no. Thank you! I'll use it well!"
"Thank you for your generosity. May you have a good night."
With a light wave of his hand, Frankie and Baldar left immediately.
The way they took turns estimating the amount of money showed not just joy, but deep relief.
They likely thought that by braving the sewers, they had made up for their tavern mistake and secured their lives.
'Not that I had any intention of killing them in the first place.'
Verden boarded the carriage.
Padreld, having discarded the robe, gloves, and boots used earlier, took the reins.
He slowly urged the carriage forward, sniffing the air.
"It doesn't seem like the smell stuck, but it feels unbearably filthy. And the sensation of stepping in that muck… ugh, I really must wash properly before eating. Are you all right, Sir Asher?"
"No problem. It never touched me in the first place."
Magic is convenient in many ways.
Especially for someone like Verden, who had awakened to the way of magic and wielded spells beyond the framework of tiers.
Of aura, magic power, and divine power, the one with the greatest versatility was magic power.
"Magic, huh… I envy it. I often think so, but after today's trip into the sewers, even more so."
Padreld muttered, sounding envious.
He flicked the reins harder, and the carriage sped up. Cutting through the alleys of the autonomous territory under the night sky, they headed for the mansion.
At that moment, someone in a green robe passed by.
The carriage rolled on, while that figure slowly disappeared into the darkness, retracing the way Verden's carriage had come.
Judging by appearance alone, it was just an ordinary passerby.
Normally, Verden would have thought nothing more of it. But not now.
'That makes three times.'
Once in the day, once in the evening outside the mansion, and now. He had encountered that green robe three times in a single day.
Of course, it could have been mere coincidence.
But Verden did not think so. His life so far had taught him otherwise.
"…So there weren't five pursuers, but six."
"Sir?"
"Something has come up. Don't wait for me, go on ahead."
As soon as he finished speaking, Verden vanished.
The carriage door opened, and even the faintest trace of his presence disappeared. The door, left open, closed on its own.
In the blink of an eye, Verden was gone.
Peeking inside through the gap, Padreld blinked vacantly.
"Sir Asher?"
There was no answer.
Silence filled the carriage.
You can read more chapters in organised way on my website:- https://revengernovel.com