Within two hours, the local imperial knights and the local branch of the Adventurer's Association investigators swarmed the ruined estate.
They dug through the collapsed masonry. They removed debris and found the hidden stone basement. They found the heavy iron restraining chairs, the crates of illegal alchemical stimulants, and the ledgers detailing the sale of human beings to foreign countries across the sea.
The lead investigator, a seasoned knight in silver armor, stood in the center of the underground lab. He held a cursed, blackened brass ring in his gloved hand. His face was pale with absolute disgust.
"It wasn't a charity," the knight whispered as he handed the ledger to an Adventurer's Association official. "It was a massive trafficking hub for the Obsidian Vipers. But who hit them? There are no bodies. The syndicate just completely abandoned the facility in sheer terror."
A knight subordinate scribe jogged down the stone steps. "Sir! We interviewed the children who escaped first. They saw the attacker."
"Who was it?" the knight demanded. "A rival syndicate? A mercenary company?"
"No, sir," the scribe said as he checked his notes. "They said it was a single girl with pink hair. She came out of a black carriage."
The knight frowned. "A black carriage? Did it have any identifying marks?"
"The children can't read," the scribe explained. "But one of them described a shiny picture painted on the wooden carriage. He said it looked like a broken sword, wrapped very tightly in a thorny vine."
The lead knight completely froze. The cursed ring slipped from his fingers and clattered loudly against the stone floor.
The Adventurer's Association official standing next to him dropped the heavy ledger.
They both stared at each other. The absolute, undeniable truth clicked into place. The local branches had all heard the rumors from the Capital. They all knew the legend of the man who slaughtered the Ancient Black Dragon and walked away without reporting the kill.
"He did it again," the Association official breathed out, his voice shaking with profound reverence.
"Thousand Strings," the knight confirmed as he looked around the ruined laboratory. "He figured out the Obsidian Vipers' most heavily guarded secret operation. He infiltrated the territory, rescued over a thousand dying children, completely dismantled the syndicate's infrastructure... and he didn't even bother to stay and claim the glory."
The news spread like wildfire. By nightfall, the entire regional intelligence network was singing the praises of the dark knight who fought for the weak from the shadows.
Meanwhile, Kian's carriage rolled slowly over a narrow wooden bridge.
My back is killing me.
Mirelle drove the horses off the bridge. Because she had been weaving blindly through the western trees for days to keep them hidden, the natural drift of the forest paths had pulled them steadily to the right, steering them completely off the main road.
She did not notice the weathered stone marker buried in the tall grass beside the path. It bore the faded, intricate coat of arms of Earl Sterling.
By aggressively avoiding the main roads, Kian had accidentally bypassed all the warning checkpoints.
He had just successfully smuggled himself directly into the epicenter of the dark Mage warzone.
The midday sun beat down mercilessly on the dirt road. The black carriage sat parked beneath the sparse shade of a dying elm tree.
On the reinforced alloy roof, Gareth lay completely flat. The thick leather straps binding his wrists and ankles had been untied an hour ago. He was a former Level 7 Adventurer.
He had the physical strength to rip a carriage door off its hinges. Yet, he had not moved a single inch. He barely allowed his chest to expand when he breathed.
Mirelle sat on the driver's bench and wiped sweat from her forehead. She looked up at the big, heavily scarred Swordsman.
He is terrified, Mirelle realized, her blue eyes narrowing. He is a giant and he carries a sword as tall as I am. But he is literally shaking.
She turned her head to look at Kian. Her master was sitting in his portable canvas chair in the grass. He was currently fanning himself with a comic book, looking deeply annoyed by the heat of the sun.
He hasn't threatened the Swordsman once, Mirelle thought. He hasn't even looked at him. But that giant man is absolutely paralyzed by the mere concept of his presence.
A bead of sweat rolled down Kian's forehead.
Before Kian could even blink, Mirelle was out of her seat. Her body moved entirely on instinct. She stepped down, pulled a clean, damp white towel from the wooden basin she had prepared earlier, and handed it directly to him.
Kian took it without a word and wiped his face.
Mirelle stepped back, her hands neatly folded in front of her scratchy brown peasant dress. A second later, her brain caught up with her actions.
What am I doing?! Mirelle mentally screamed, her face flushing completely red. I am the Imperial Princess! I just handed a man a cold towel like a highly trained palace maid! My reflexes are completely broken! I am adapting to this humiliation way too fast!
A soft rustle of leaves interrupted her internal crisis. Lexi dropped from the high branches of the elm tree and landed perfectly silent on the ground.
"Kian," Lexi reported, her voice completely flat. "I scouted the road. Ten miles ahead, it leads directly to the front gates of Earl Sterling's primary mansion. There are heavy patrols."
Kian completely froze. The damp towel slipped from his fingers.
Earl Sterling! Kian's mind erupted into pure panic. The client! The warzone! The Association said a hundred illegal dark Mages are invading that exact territory! If I drive up to his front gates, the Earl will force me to fight them! I will be turned into a pile of rotting ash!
Mirelle recognized the name immediately. She just remembered she heard the name at the intersection.
Her father, the Emperor, frequently praised Earl Sterling in the imperial court. The Earl was a famously good man, deeply loyal to the crown, and completely untainted by the corruption of the capital.
Why does he look so tense? Mirelle wondered. Earl Sterling is a righteous noble. Is the underworld boss afraid of the law now?
"We are not going to the mansion," Kian ordered quickly as he abandoned his canvas chair and climbed straight into the carriage. "Take the overgrown logging path to the right. We will bypass the estate completely."
Mirelle quickly grabbed the reins. She steered the horses off the smooth dirt road and onto a steep, heavily wooded decline. The carriage rattled violently over exposed roots and loose rocks.
Kian lay on the padded floor and held his breath. Just a little further. We sneak around the territory, we avoid the dark Mages, we avoid the Earl, and I can finally take a nap.
Deep at the bottom of the Whispering Ravine, a hundred men in heavy crimson robes chanted in unison.
The dry, forgotten riverbed was entirely hidden from the main roads, flanked by big walls of jagged stone.
In the center of the dust, a massive summoning circle glowed with a sickly, glaring red light. It was drawn with crushed bone and heavy enchanted chalk.
A young, low-ranking Mage named Kel knelt near the outer edge of the circle. He was sweating profusely.
The chanting was taking a big toll on his Mana. Sweat rolled down his nose. It dropped.
It landed directly on the thick chalk line of the Anchor of Permanence.
Kel gasped quietly. The moisture instantly broke the solid line of chalk and created a tiny gap in the seal.
Panic seized his chest. If the Lead Mage saw this, Kel would be punished severely. His hands are shaking.
Kel quickly pressed his thumb over the wet chalk and smeared it and desperately tried to reconnect the line. It looked messy and weak. But a second later, the red light flared up and washed over the smeared section.
It still glows, Kel thought as he let out a shaky breath. It is still working. It is fine. That was close.
He felt a sigh of relief and went back to chanting.
Ten heavy wooden posts stood near the edge of the ritual.
Ten armored knights bearing the silver crest of Earl Sterling were chained to the wood. They were bruised, bleeding, and stripped of their swords.
Standing in front of them was Lord Elric, the eldest son of Earl Sterling. He wore an expensive silk coat, completely untouched by the dirt of the ravine.
"You are insane, Lord Elric!" the lead knight spat as he pulled uselessly against his heavy iron chains. "You sold out your own father to these cultists! Do you know what they are trying to summon? It will wipe the entire territory off the map!"
Elric laughed. It was a high, arrogant sound. "My father is weak. He refuses to expand our borders. When the Calamity-class Phantom rises, it will crush his pathetic army. The Mages promised me control over the ashes. I will build a new, stronger domain."
The Lead Mage stepped forward, his hands raised toward the glowing red sky. "The barrier is working! The anti-mana ward is flawless! Nothing can enter the ravine! Rejoice, Lord Elric! The Phantom comes!"
A mile above them, the black carriage with a silver crest began its descent.