The two exchanged a slight glance before Firrol joked again, "You strike me more as a Willford. I've always felt like it was a good name. Willford. It sounds sprite, but also mighty. The Will part is fun, and then the Ford part is serious."
Hearing him philosophize about a hypothetical name, Melvin intently listened, feeling like it was indeed making some sense. After a while, the cat asked for a smoke, but that offer was instantly rejected as they were inside someone's home.
With that, the duo continued pouring tea and talking about nonsensical stuff.
...
In an opulent office adorned with various shades of brown wood, trophies of fantastical monsters adorned the multicolored walls. Among them, a one-meter-tall head of a small dragon-like creature stood out. Despite being severed from its body, its silver eyes retained a lifelike quality.
To the side, a mighty black door stood, and suddenly, its handle was gently pulled down by an invisible force before it slowly creaked open, revealing the face of a bald gentleman with a solemn look on his face.
He was clad in a simple attire that if he were to be seen walking in the streets, he would seamlessly blend into any crowd. His eyes locked into the center of the room, where a man sat in a sizeable chair behind an exquisite wooden desk.
"Chief Dulan," The bald man said with a nod from the door.
"Captains, come in." The chief said, gesturing for him to come inside.
Hearing the order, he obliged as his steps advanced into the heart of the room, standing upright, and gazing ahead. Soon, the same process repeated itself, one man after the other all with different simple clothes stood beside him.
Before long five men lined up shoulder to shoulder, their gaze fixed ahead with determination. Their postures were upright and rigid, and they had a disciplined air about them.
Out of respect, but more so a dislike for these formalities, Chief Dulan gestured for the five to sit down on the sofas in front of his desk.
Once all of them were comfortable, he finally began, "I am sure all of you are aware of that new criminal, the altar butcher as they called him in the news." When he said that, he couldn't help but snort softly, shaking his head in disapproval, "Did you read the article?" He asked looking at them.
The bald gentleman was the first to speak and said, "Ah, yes chief." Then he chuckled and said, "It's quite something."
Chief Dulan thought of something, and a smile tugged at the corner of his lips, "Probably that guy is out there touching himself reading that article."
Hearing that all of them laughed, knowing how the chief detested the news because they made things difficult for them.
After a bit of back and forth with each and every one of them, he began addressing the reason he called all of them there.
"Let's keep this short," Chief Dulan suddenly said, "The reason I called you all here today is simple."
Pulling his big chair, he moved closer to the desk. Above it, was a small vial with a red liquid inside. He easily carried it using both his thumb and index finger and moved it to his eye level as he began deeply studying it as if trying to find something important inside. "This is his blood," He said, gaze still unwavering from the vial.
"Dutuk," He suddenly said, and his head moved to the right. At the corner of the room, was a long upright wooden pole with a slight edge where a pitch-black small hawk was perched, its body bending as if trying to warm itself up, but its gaze was very sharp as it stared at the men. Hearing the voice, it quietly flew and landed on the caller's right shoulder.
Affectionately rubbing the hawk's neck, which it seemed to enjoy immensely, evident from its satisfied body language and closed eyelids. "And Dutuk will accompany you," He finally said to the five.
Naturally, this wasn't the first time the five of them worked with this bird of prey, and so their expressions all had understanding written all over them.
"Alright," He said as he stood up, "Off you go." Stretched his hand toward the bald captain, the hawk understood his intentions and followed.
With a slight wave, he threw the small vial into that captain's hand and sat down once again. As he watched them all leave, he had a complicated expression on his face.
He was filled with self-recriminations over his part in letting this murderous lowlife back into the city. He had recognized him from inside the city but had not remembered any additional details about him at that moment.
Staring at the closed door, lost in thought, he was startled when the door swung open again because he wasn't expecting anyone. However, when he saw who came in, he couldn't help but stand up, his expression reflecting an awkwardness as well as dejectedness.
Clenching lips and nodding awkwardly, his movements betrayed a sense of discomfort, he said, "John, is everything good?"
Johnathan Parker closed the door behind himself but didn't speak until he sat down on the sofa. His stared blankly at the wall in front of him as he uttered, "I just met him, you know?"
Chief Dulan's eyes widened in shock, and as for who he was talking about, he knew exactly who, all too well. The same person his friend had been thinking about in the last twenty-four hours or so. In fact, John was exactly the reason why he had specially sent a special team after him.
Dulan quickly composed himself, and with a deep sigh, he asked, "Is he dead?"
"No," John said, his voice seemed both distant and impersonal.
Surprised, Dulan, continued to ask, "What? He ran away from even you?"
Shaking his head, John clarified, "It wasn't him."
"Are you sure?" He stressed.
"Yes,"
Hearing that, Dulan was slightly annoyed. Even if Jacob wasn't the one responsible for the killing of Amelia Parker, John could have apprehended and handed him to the guards to deal with.
John, although seemed out of it, and in the midst of dealing with something, was still able to perceive such a simple point before the discussion even began. So, he finally turned to glance at the Chief and said, "And he wasn't the one who killed all of those people either."
"Why are you sure?" Dulan abruptly asked, doubting the latter's excessive certainty without any evidence.
"I just talked with him a little and I knew," John said, unwilling to explain too much.
Hearing the answer, Dulan felt a bit stumped. On one hand, his friend was always reliable, and on the other, he was going through a lot of internal turmoil right now that made his judgment questionable.
However, he knew that either way, it didn't change things much. With a sigh, he said, "Even if that's true, someone powerful seems to be after him. And you know how things end up in that situation. There isn't much that can be done."
A long silence stretched out before a helpless sigh finally escaped John's lips, although this wasn't the only reason that he came here, he was hoping for Dulan to do something. However, learning that someone else was involved, he knew that the situation was more complicated, and he wasn't willing to intervene either, especially in this sensitive time period.
Once that matter was put to rest, he broached the main subject that he came here to discuss. "What would be the motive behind it? I don't understand..." He said, voice dripping with both grievance and unwillingness.
Dulan instantly understood what he was talking about, after all in the last couple of days they had discussed it plenty of times. Still, even after all of those discussions, they weren't able to come up with why would one of the three great powers in the city aim for his daughter.
The Adventurer's Association was funded by the royal family, to begin with, so they had enough deterrence. Most importantly, they weren't involved in anything that would cause the other three great powers to have a conflict of interest with them.
As for the fact that it might have been as the news stated? Killed by a random encounter, it was far too improbable for that to be so. Amelia Parker was at the Novice Tier, Rank 2 at the young age of twenty-three. If someone went for her life, it would have been driven by plenty of motives to justify the effort taken. Motives that her father failed to grasp.
The duo discussed for a while, and in the end, John bade his farewell and left.
Gazing at his friend's departing back, The Chief's facial expressions were hard to discern, and deep down he was really afraid that his friend might do something rash. Against the people John was now suspecting, the fact that he was a vice-president of the Adventurer's Association wouldn't matter at all.
Letting out another helpless sigh, he grabbed a pink quill from a small bottle and got to work.
...
Melvin and Firrol were engrossed in talking about the port when suddenly they heard a gentle subtle creak before the door parted.
'Finally!' Melvin thought, excitement swelling up within his heart.
A thudding sound echoed, signifying that the door had closed shut before steady steps approached them. Soon, Karl stood before the two, and in his hand was a dark brown circular stone that flashed with magical lights.
"Is this it?" Melvin asked, his breath quickening. Karl only nodded and gave the stone to him.
Holding the Class Stone in his hands, Melvin could feel a reaction occur within him. It wasn't anything remarkable, just the feeling that he now grew accustomed to that signified his mana was free to operate. Knowing that a whole class with its own set of skills and stats was awaiting him, his excitement grew even more.
However, knowing that the situation was still sensitive right now, he just put the stone in his right pocket and sat down once again. "Thanks," He said, looking at the man in front of him, "I appreciate it!"
Sitting down, Karl merely waved his hands saying, "It's nothing." Noticing how empty the pot of tea was, he offered, "Do you want something else to eat? I can make it."
Unwilling to impose even further, Melvin just shook his head and said, "Don't worry, we ate before coming here." He then coughed and got into the question he was most curious about, "I'm planning to escape the city, what can you tell me about that?"
Karl's eyebrows elevated in surprise, "Do you mean forcefully leave out of the gates?" He asked.
Seeing the guest's solemn nod, he was even more shocked. "Melvin," He said, his voice serious, "I don't think you got what it takes to escape..." His voice trailed here and continued, "Even if you do escape, you'll have to put quite a distance between you and the city." As if suddenly remembering something, he asked a seemingly random question, "Do you know what is the first requirement that merchants and other caravans need to have to reach other cities?"
Melvin understanding the reason for such a question immediately voiced his lack of knowledge, "No, what?"
"They need to have a team that has the potential to fight Peak Novice Tier monsters," He said.
"That much?!" Melvin asked, shaking his head in disbelief.
The two exchanged a slight glance before Firrol joked again, "You strike me more as a Willford. I've always felt like it was a good name. Willford. It sounds sprite, but also mighty. The Will part is fun, and then the Ford part is serious."
Hearing him philosophize about a hypothetical name, Melvin intently listened, feeling like it was indeed making some sense. After a while, the cat asked for a smoke, but that offer was instantly rejected as they were inside someone's home.
With that, the duo continued pouring tea and talking about nonsensical stuff.
...
In an opulent office adorned with various shades of brown wood, trophies of fantastical monsters adorned the multicolored walls. Among them, a one-meter-tall head of a small dragon-like creature stood out. Despite being severed from its body, its silver eyes retained a lifelike quality.
To the side, a mighty black door stood, and suddenly, its handle was gently pulled down by an invisible force before it slowly creaked open, revealing the face of a bald gentleman with a solemn look on his face.
He was clad in a simple attire that if he were to be seen walking in the streets, he would seamlessly blend into any crowd. His eyes locked into the center of the room, where a man sat in a sizeable chair behind an exquisite wooden desk.
"Chief Dulan," The bald man said with a nod from the door.
"Captains, come in." The chief said, gesturing for him to come inside.
Hearing the order, he obliged as his steps advanced into the heart of the room, standing upright, and gazing ahead. Soon, the same process repeated itself, one man after the other all with different simple clothes stood beside him.
Before long five men lined up shoulder to shoulder, their gaze fixed ahead with determination. Their postures were upright and rigid, and they had a disciplined air about them.
Out of respect, but more so a dislike for these formalities, Chief Dulan gestured for the five to sit down on the sofas in front of his desk.
Once all of them were comfortable, he finally began, "I am sure all of you are aware of that new criminal, the altar butcher as they called him in the news." When he said that, he couldn't help but snort softly, shaking his head in disapproval, "Did you read the article?" He asked looking at them.
The bald gentleman was the first to speak and said, "Ah, yes chief." Then he chuckled and said, "It's quite something."
Chief Dulan thought of something, and a smile tugged at the corner of his lips, "Probably that guy is out there touching himself reading that article."
Hearing that all of them laughed, knowing how the chief detested the news because they made things difficult for them.
After a bit of back and forth with each and every one of them, he began addressing the reason he called all of them there.
"Let's keep this short," Chief Dulan suddenly said, "The reason I called you all here today is simple."
Pulling his big chair, he moved closer to the desk. Above it, was a small vial with a red liquid inside. He easily carried it using both his thumb and index finger and moved it to his eye level as he began deeply studying it as if trying to find something important inside. "This is his blood," He said, gaze still unwavering from the vial.
"Dutuk," He suddenly said, and his head moved to the right. At the corner of the room, was a long upright wooden pole with a slight edge where a pitch-black small hawk was perched, its body bending as if trying to warm itself up, but its gaze was very sharp as it stared at the men. Hearing the voice, it quietly flew and landed on the caller's right shoulder.
Affectionately rubbing the hawk's neck, which it seemed to enjoy immensely, evident from its satisfied body language and closed eyelids. "And Dutuk will accompany you," He finally said to the five.
Naturally, this wasn't the first time the five of them worked with this bird of prey, and so their expressions all had understanding written all over them.
"Alright," He said as he stood up, "Off you go." Stretched his hand toward the bald captain, the hawk understood his intentions and followed.
With a slight wave, he threw the small vial into that captain's hand and sat down once again. As he watched them all leave, he had a complicated expression on his face.
He was filled with self-recriminations over his part in letting this murderous lowlife back into the city. He had recognized him from inside the city but had not remembered any additional details about him at that moment.
Staring at the closed door, lost in thought, he was startled when the door swung open again because he wasn't expecting anyone. However, when he saw who came in, he couldn't help but stand up, his expression reflecting an awkwardness as well as dejectedness.
Clenching lips and nodding awkwardly, his movements betrayed a sense of discomfort, he said, "John, is everything good?"
Johnathan Parker closed the door behind himself but didn't speak until he sat down on the sofa. His stared blankly at the wall in front of him as he uttered, "I just met him, you know?"
Chief Dulan's eyes widened in shock, and as for who he was talking about, he knew exactly who, all too well. The same person his friend had been thinking about in the last twenty-four hours or so. In fact, John was exactly the reason why he had specially sent a special team after him.
Dulan quickly composed himself, and with a deep sigh, he asked, "Is he dead?"
"No," John said, his voice seemed both distant and impersonal.
Surprised, Dulan, continued to ask, "What? He ran away from even you?"
Shaking his head, John clarified, "It wasn't him."
"Are you sure?" He stressed.
"Yes,"
Hearing that, Dulan was slightly annoyed. Even if Jacob wasn't the one responsible for the killing of Amelia Parker, John could have apprehended and handed him to the guards to deal with.
John, although seemed out of it, and in the midst of dealing with something, was still able to perceive such a simple point before the discussion even began. So, he finally turned to glance at the Chief and said, "And he wasn't the one who killed all of those people either."
"Why are you sure?" Dulan abruptly asked, doubting the latter's excessive certainty without any evidence.
"I just talked with him a little and I knew," John said, unwilling to explain too much.
Hearing the answer, Dulan felt a bit stumped. On one hand, his friend was always reliable, and on the other, he was going through a lot of internal turmoil right now that made his judgment questionable.
However, he knew that either way, it didn't change things much. With a sigh, he said, "Even if that's true, someone powerful seems to be after him. And you know how things end up in that situation. There isn't much that can be done."
A long silence stretched out before a helpless sigh finally escaped John's lips, although this wasn't the only reason that he came here, he was hoping for Dulan to do something. However, learning that someone else was involved, he knew that the situation was more complicated, and he wasn't willing to intervene either, especially in this sensitive time period.
Once that matter was put to rest, he broached the main subject that he came here to discuss. "What would be the motive behind it? I don't understand..." He said, voice dripping with both grievance and unwillingness.
Dulan instantly understood what he was talking about, after all in the last couple of days they had discussed it plenty of times. Still, even after all of those discussions, they weren't able to come up with why would one of the three great powers in the city aim for his daughter.
The Adventurer's Association was funded by the royal family, to begin with, so they had enough deterrence. Most importantly, they weren't involved in anything that would cause the other three great powers to have a conflict of interest with them.
As for the fact that it might have been as the news stated? Killed by a random encounter, it was far too improbable for that to be so. Amelia Parker was at the Novice Tier, Rank 2 at the young age of twenty-three. If someone went for her life, it would have been driven by plenty of motives to justify the effort taken. Motives that her father failed to grasp.
The duo discussed for a while, and in the end, John bade his farewell and left.
Gazing at his friend's departing back, The Chief's facial expressions were hard to discern, and deep down he was really afraid that his friend might do something rash. Against the people John was now suspecting, the fact that he was a vice-president of the Adventurer's Association wouldn't matter at all.
Letting out another helpless sigh, he grabbed a pink quill from a small bottle and got to work.
...
Melvin and Firrol were engrossed in talking about the port when suddenly they heard a gentle subtle creak before the door parted.
'Finally!' Melvin thought, excitement swelling up within his heart.
A thudding sound echoed, signifying that the door had closed shut before steady steps approached them. Soon, Karl stood before the two, and in his hand was a dark brown circular stone that flashed with magical lights.
"Is this it?" Melvin asked, his breath quickening. Karl only nodded and gave the stone to him.
Holding the Class Stone in his hands, Melvin could feel a reaction occur within him. It wasn't anything remarkable, just the feeling that he now grew accustomed to that signified his mana was free to operate. Knowing that a whole class with its own set of skills and stats was awaiting him, his excitement grew even more.
However, knowing that the situation was still sensitive right now, he just put the stone in his right pocket and sat down once again. "Thanks," He said, looking at the man in front of him, "I appreciate it!"
Sitting down, Karl merely waved his hands saying, "It's nothing." Noticing how empty the pot of tea was, he offered, "Do you want something else to eat? I can make it."
Unwilling to impose even further, Melvin just shook his head and said, "Don't worry, we ate before coming here." He then coughed and got into the question he was most curious about, "I'm planning to escape the city, what can you tell me about that?"
Karl's eyebrows elevated in surprise, "Do you mean forcefully leave out of the gates?" He asked.
Seeing the guest's solemn nod, he was even more shocked. "Melvin," He said, his voice serious, "I don't think you got what it takes to escape..." His voice trailed here and continued, "Even if you do escape, you'll have to put quite a distance between you and the city." As if suddenly remembering something, he asked a seemingly random question, "Do you know what is the first requirement that merchants and other caravans need to have to reach other cities?"
Melvin understanding the reason for such a question immediately voiced his lack of knowledge, "No, what?"
"They need to have a team that has the potential to fight Peak Novice Tier monsters," He said.
"That much?!" Melvin asked, shaking his head in disbelief.
