"You got the Holy Spirit pill?" Black Hammer suddenly had a sudden realization.
"Holy Spirit Medicine?" Tasa's smile vanished as he sneered. "The Church's drugs aren't even necessary to cure plague-infected patients." He pulled two small leather pouches from his waist and placed them on the table. "Blaming witches is just their usual trick—dead people can't argue." Black Hammer picked up one pouch, shook it near his ear, untied the rope, and sniffed. "No smell?" "Give it to Silver Ring and Pottery Jar to drink. That'll tell you if it's real medicine," Tasa said. "They're probably still in the tavern." "Ever since we detected the infection, I've kept them hidden in the basement. Now, with plague patients vulnerable to city attacks, even the Skull Finger's lair won't let them in." Black Hammer grabbed the cloth bag. "Sir, I'll try it myself." After he left, Hill remained silent, staring at the table. Tasa shook his head in silent agreement.
An ordinary person living under the ravages of a plague should not exhibit such composure upon hearing of a potential cure. Even if they do not become so agitated as to rush to examine it, they would at least inquire further. As an intelligence operative, such behavior is far from satisfactory.
"Can this really cure the plague?" the little finger exclaimed. "Sir, where did you get it?" Even the young girl was more perceptive. Tasa took a sip of wine. "Of course it was given to me by the royal official. Who else would dare oppose the Church?" Soon Black Hammer returned with the silver ring and pottery jar. "Good heavens, this potion is miraculous! The black spots on their bodies vanished almost immediately after drinking it." "Thank you for the potion, sir," the two knelt down, their pottery jars still bleeding. "You saved our lives!" "Bandage the wounds first," Tasa waved. Though the purification water could cure the plague, it couldn't heal wounds. Severe injuries required at least a week to recover. "Thank my employer instead of me. If this mission succeeds, you might even shed your rat identity." "Your... Your employer actually wants us to sell the potion?" Black Hammer asked excitedly. He clearly understood the lucrative potential of selling the special potion in such times.
"Indeed, the Church's deception of the townsfolk with this scheme has infuriated him. If these God-worshippers continue unchecked, the entire Royal Capital could turn into a cathedral rather than the Wimbledons' domain," Tasa declared sternly. "Moreover, he cannot bear to see the vast city nearly deserted. The potion must be affordable for most citizens." He tossed two leather bags onto the table. "A single bag like this would fetch no more than ten Silver Wolves." "Ten... ten Silver Wolves?!" Black Hammer's eyes widened in shock.
"Exactly," he declared, spreading his hands, "six go to my employer, the rest to you. The potion supplies enough for five or six thousand people, so you'll get at least a few hundred Golden Dragons. Even if split equally, that's a hefty sum—enough to last you a lifetime." The other man stood there, his eyes fixed on the leather bag on the table, his face twisted with hesitation, as if weighing how to extract the greatest benefit from it.
Tasa knew exactly what these rats were thinking.
The potion itself is cost-free, making it perfectly acceptable even as a free gift. However, distributing such a large quantity would be inefficient and overly conspicuous if handled by a single person. Entrusting the sale to rats would reduce risks, and ten silver dragons represent a price most citizens can afford. Of course, these individuals wouldn't sell at the low price honestly—whether by hiding a portion for sale in the inner city or reselling it on the black market, they could still reap substantial profits.
In the end, perhaps fewer than half of these potions could be sold to commoners at low prices, but this wasn't Tasa's primary concern. RolandYour Highness 'mission was to thwart the Church's plot as much as possible. By making it clear that the Holy Spirit Potion wasn't the only cure against the plague and wasn't some rare or expensive item, the priests 'claims would be met with public skepticism. This doubt would be especially strong among believers who had paid a heavy price to obtain the holy potion, making them question whether God's chosen envoy was deceiving them.
"I know what you're thinking," Tasa said. "Hide some for yourself to sell, or sell to the highest bidder first. I can pretend not to see... but remember," his tone turned cold, "my employer isn't a kind man. If you don't want to be sunk in the moat, you'd better keep your cool. After all, you only get to enjoy it if you survive." "But what if others resell it?" the silver ring asked.
"It's simple—each person can only buy one bag and use it immediately," he said, turning to Black Hammer. "So, are you interested in this deal?" "Underground dealers alone might not be able to handle such a large quantity of potions," Tassa cut him off. "Deciding who sells them and where is your responsibility. I'll just keep an eye on you for the master." Black Hammer clenched his teeth, scanned the room, and when no objections were raised, slammed a fist on the table. "I'll take this job!" "Good," he nodded. "The day after tomorrow, when the sun sets, the wagon carrying the potions will arrive at the tavern entrance. Arrange the manpower and spread the news of the new medicine. Do your best—my employer doesn't want to see failure." The day after tomorrow would also be the last day the First Army stayed. Whatever the city became afterward, it wouldn't pose any threat to Your Highness, Tassa thought.
...
Hill came up from behind shortly after leaving the tavern.
"Wouldn't you like to meet my allies? They all yearn for vengeance against Tefiko." "I trust you temporarily because you've passed the test, but that doesn't mean I trust them either," Tasa shook his head. "What would you do if you weren't captured today?" "I intended to return and share this news with everyone, to hear their opinions—whether to continue observing for a while longer or to side with RolandYour Highness directly," he replied.
"Ah?" Tasa asked with evident curiosity. "What's your personal opinion?" Hil hesitated before replying, "Your Highness stands apart from most Nobles. Few would dedicate themselves to rescuing refugees as he does. Moreover... he treats witches with equal respect. Had Tefiko acted similarly, my wife would have..." He paused briefly. "That's why I'd rather serve Your Highness directly." "Then return now without a word—act as if you never set foot at the docks." "Why..." He looked up in surprise.
An exceptional intelligence officer should keep secrets to themselves, not share them with others—especially in critical moments, "Tasa emphasized." If you wish to serve Your Highness, there is still much to learn."