Nobles

Deep inside Presto Fortress.

A certain elegant and quiet room.

The withered old man lay on his bed, his eyes half-open and half-closed, his lips slowly parting and closing as he made a weak and intermittent sound, "What does the Holy See say..."

"There are still many Cardinals opposing the new marriage and inheritance bill; we may need to wait longer." The one speaking was an old man wearing an ochre linen robe.

He was unkempt and sparse of hair, with a tuft of completely unstyled beard on his chin, and his clothes were both dirty and ragged, looking precisely like a beggar who was completely out of place with the elegant decorations of the room.

"Yet I no longer have time." The old man on the bed let out a sigh, though it sounded more like a groan, "Perhaps I really am cursed."

The beggar old man took out a few vials of glowing white potions from somewhere and placed them aside, "These vials of Elder Elixir will allow you to hold on for a while longer."

"I have already drunk eight vials of Elder Elixir; it is of almost no use to me anymore." The old man on the sickbed was silent for a moment, his weak voice revealing hesitation, "Perhaps, you can help me get rid of Yuris, and then..."

"Impossible." The beggar old man flatly refused, frowning, "It is impossible for me to go kill a Mosa Follower."

The air fell silent for a moment.

Perhaps feeling that his tone had been a bit too harsh just now, he added, "Besides, even if I were willing to do so, who could guarantee that the truth would not be found out by the College of Cardinals? There is no need for an investigation, even; at least three Cardinals would anxiously accuse me of being the 'most suspicious murderer' at the very first moment after the incident."

"You should understand the operating style of these people who consider themselves 'pure'. Isn't your title of 'Conspirator' a gift from them?" he added.

After another period of silence, the old man on the bed asked, "I want to know, will the Holy See come to my funeral?"

"He is busy, but he has already appointed me as an envoy. At that time, I will attend your funeral through the Papal Envoy Scroll, in the personal image of the Holy See."

"Fine..."

"Knock, knock." At this moment, a knock sounded, "Lord Earl, it is time to eat."

"I am leaving first." The beggar old man uttered those words and immediately walked toward the door, his figure simultaneously growing faint, turning completely transparent after a few steps.

When the door opened, the two servants delivering the food did not notice at all as a transparent figure brushed past them and quietly left the room.

At the entrance of the town, the Gray Eagle Mercenaries received an enthusiastic welcome.

Lena, the daughter of Earl Presto, came personally. She wore a gorgeous golden long dress matching her hair color, and looking up at the towering Cassandra, she could not help but let out a sincere exclamation, "Goodness, you are so tall!"

"Thank you." Cassandra responded politely.

Lena wanted to say a bit more, but it was evidently difficult for a pampered noble and a fierce, battle-hardened mercenary to have any common ground.

After exchanging harmless pleasantries for quite a while, she finally realized that gender might be a good topic entry point, and began chatting about women's secrets.

This trick worked well.

Before long, the three women—along with Sister Deran—let out sisterly laughter together.

Gagnor, watching from not far away, felt this scene was quite interesting, after all, the smiles of the three women were so different.

Lena's smile was extremely standard, able to precisely reveal eight teeth almost every time, displaying good aristocratic upbringing.

Sister Deran was like the opposite extreme; she always could not help herself, laughing until she swayed back and forth, and even laughing out some Tears of Holy Light in the end, which fit the childlike innocence given to her by her large eyes very well.

Cassandra's smile fell roughly between the two, neither as naive and innocent as Sister Deran nor as unchanging as Lena.

Meanwhile, Commander Lucius also appeared in everyone's line of sight, directing a crowd of mercenaries toward the camp, redistributing the teams, and arranging defensive positions in advance.

As Ryan had said before, almost all the captains of the combat squads were warriors.

The squad Gagnor was in also had a captain who could be considered an acquaintance—it was the warrior who had led the team to the Tidal Lands a year ago.

As for this squad's defensive position, it was a section of the city wall near the fortress.

Of course, Gagnor, acting as an apothecary, did not belong to combat personnel after all, so his status in this squad should be considered "unofficial personnel"; whether he assisted in defense was entirely up to his own volition.

His official task remained brewing potions.

However, he had purchased a large number of various potions in advance in South Sea Town, which was not only more than enough for his own use, but also more than sufficient to complete the alchemy task, allowing him to remain in a state of complete leisure and freedom.

According to Gagnor's estimate, even if the subsequent warfare turned out to be relatively severe, he would probably still not finish using the potions he had bought.

So it was best to sell a portion of them.

The materials provided by the mercenary group were also all sold off; anyway, he was too lazy to bother grinding out potions like Healing Stone, which yielded neither economic profit nor any benefit to the advancement of level-four Herbalism.

Considering the soaring market prices, after selling these items, he should be able to make quite a bit of money.

Of course, this kind of profiteering and speculation during wartime inevitably carried risks, and normal sales channels definitely would not work.

It still had to be the Black Market.

Gagnor was no longer the rookie who had first left Driftwood Town. After a year of black market dealings, he had roughly figured out the various routines of the black market.

The black market on the Falaro Continent basically relied on the Thieves' Guild.

It could almost be said that the Thieves' Guild was a franchise chain store of the black market opened all over Falaro.

Thus, after making some inquiries and learning the location of the Presto Fortress Thieves' Guild, Gagnor decided to go explore the local black market.

On a certain deep and quiet night.

Gagnor put on a loose, dark robe, then took out human blood from the Storage Ring, dipped his fingers in it, and drew a few symbols on his face.

After the Blood Disguise spell casting completed, Gagnor's image transformed accordingly.

He took out a mirror and looked, feeling that this face was neither handsome nor ugly, without any unique features, and ordinary to the extreme.

The reason was not hard to understand.

He used blood mixed from multiple people, and the appearance after disguise naturally was also a mixture of multiple people, creating such an ultimate generic face.

Most of the time, mediocrity surpassed any mask.

Following that, wearing this generic face, Gagnor arrived at the Presto Fortress Thieves' Guild.

Just like in South Sea Town, the Thieves' Guild here was superficially a rundown inn as well, and the smell permeating the air was somewhat similar too—a mixture of body odor and cheap ale.

Entering the inn, Gagnor scanned the surroundings and quickly locked his eyes on a thin youth sitting in the corner drinking. He walked over and said, "One silver coin, take me to see the underground, how about it?"

The thin youth did not speak either, holding out two fingers.

Gagnor tossed out two silver coins.

The thin youth accepted the silver coins, stood up, and said, "Follow me."