15 Ostria’s Brewing Calamity (1/2)
Terror-stricken, as they stared at the three words engraved on their bleeding hands, the eleven all were terror-stricken. But so tight was Kilian's control over them that the sweat that should have now drenched their livid faces didn't dare appear—suppressed underneath their pores.
Faster than her peers - Lena regained her composure - and in a flash, processed the situation. First, Lukas or not, the man standing before them meant no harm; otherwise, none of them could live to unsheathe their weapons. Second, he was a magus. Third, in his eyes, they held no worth. From beginning to end, he never once glanced at them, trusting in his superior magical powers to direct their fates.
The thought set her heart ablaze with rage. However, she could only suppress it. Meanwhile, unaware of the building tension, Bjorn listened to Kilian's ”explanations.”
”You've probably long realized that I lead a double life. For the past five years, I've secretly worked for an assassin cult specialized in the murder of nobles, but ended up failing a task and getting framed by my superiors.
Having no other choice, I could only escape for a while to - on the one hand, avoid retaliation - and on the other hand, lead them away from my relatives whom they know well.
Never did I expect that by the time I returned…” As Kilian reached this point, his half-smile vanished, his face grew pale, his heart rate quickened, and he closed his eyes in such a show of sorrow that Lena now wondered if all her assumptions weren't false.
”...Tamara was gone, mother breathed no longer, and the clatter of silver coins shook my old man's purse. In a rage, I killed him and set the house on fire. I initially planned to leave Ostria to seek Tamara's trails, and came to say goodbye.” Kilian's voice died down while his arms trembled in ”surging anguish.”
Seeing this, the concealed Jezebel had to admit that her Lothario was quite the actor. Klaus firmly believed that a man aiming to change the world should first learn to wear 1,000 masks. Therefore, he imparted on Kilian the art of trickery. The student soon outpaced the master.
Now, Lena no longer had many doubts—realizing why ”Lukas' persona” had experienced such a drastic change. Now more than ever, there was indeed no reason for him to pay her attention. Biting her lower lip, Lena clenched her fits, turned heels, and left alongside her men.
Meanwhile, Bjorn exploded.
”I should have killed the son of a bitch when I had the chance!” He slapped his thigh in outrage. A year before, believing Oskar a thorn that ought to be removed, Bjorn attempted to murder Lukas' father but was cut short by his mother's appearance and pleas. Ultimately, he could only drop the matter. A day after Lukas' disappearance, Bjorn paid Oskar a visit, giving him a ferocious beating as a warning.
But subsequently, the start of uncanny events within the slums prevented him from taking better care of his friend's family. Now, he wouldn't have enough years for regret.
”Blame this damnable disease. People have been falling like fleas, spreading fears of a new epidemic!” Bjorn spat, but as those words left his lips, Kilian's face contorted into a frown.
”An epidemic? In Arcadia?”
…
Meanwhile, in the viscount of Ostria's castle - within the comfort of his study - Viscount Olaf met with a mysterious man whose features remained concealed beneath a cloak. Oskar could have recognized the cloaked man as the slaver to whom he sold Tamara. And indeed, the girl stood right beside him.
Alas, her previously vibrant hazel eyes now stood dazed and void of luster, as if a foreign force kept her mind on a tight lock. Kilian could have never expected that the slaver he thought long gone now lay in Viscount Olaf's study, staring at a cup of tea. Of course - perhaps not knowing was best - for a slaver, the man was not.
”How is the thing's spread going?” The man asked in a hoarse voice that made Olaf ill at ease. Still, he didn't dare show the tiniest bit of discomfort.
”Sir, have no fear - in less than a week - the entirety of the slums will be infected. I also dispatched my men to ensure the process will follow the trend you requested. Even if by some absurd miracle those monkeys realized the ploy, they can't escape.” Monkeys. In the eyes of the aristocracy, be they managers or iniquitous, the commoners were no different from monkeys.
Hearing those words, the cloaked man made no remark, reached into his cloak to pull out a bundle of banknotes, and tossed it onto the table. Dark-blue light shone in Olaf's eyes as he activated Arcane Sight for a prompt count of the banknotes.