What Is the Price

The Price... What Is It

A gust of cold wind swept across the desk, causing the flame in the lamp holder to flicker violently.

Only then did Sandella shift her gaze away from the case files and look toward a corner of the room—surely enough, a wooden window had been pushed open by the strong evening wind at some unknown point, revealing a corner of the night sky.

As a Master-level warrior, she no longer needed to sleep six to eight hours a day like ordinary people; resting for two hours a day was quite enough for her. Usually she would spend this time on strength and sword technique training, but over the last few days, she had uncharacteristically devoted all her energy to investigating the incident.

Yet after a flurry of busyness, Sandella still had nothing to show for it.

That fortune teller seemed to have vanished into thin air. Whether they were gang kids or local residents, everyone claimed they had never seen this person, and even those who knew of the Fortune Telling House could be counted on one hand. She had also entrusted the North City Police Station to participate and had personally visited the surrounding neighborhoods multiple times, hoping to track down a shred of clue—after all, she did not expect to capture the target in one go, but at least she needed to touch the target's tail. The result remained disappointing.

She even doubted whether such a person truly existed in Glorious Fortress.

Sandella stood up and walked to the window blown open by the wind. The city's night view was unremarkable, and the sky was always shrouded in clouds and mist, making her suddenly feel a bit nostalgic for the nights of the Old Continent.

Just as she was preparing to reinsert the window bolt, a cluster of leaping firelight caught the corner of her eye.

Sandella paused slightly. Overlooking the city from the height of Farview Tower, theoretically one could only see street lamps as faint as fireflies, and even then, they had to be the alleys close to the tall tower.

It was the first time she had seen night firelight not appear in point-like form.

However, Sandella quickly reacted: that was not some normal lamplight, but rather a building on fire somewhere.

This was hardly a major issue. Glorious Fortress was a seaport city, and the drainage canals were built quite properly; putting out a fire was nothing difficult. Besides, firefighting was also one of the responsibilities of the City Guard, which she had always valued quite a lot, keeping their training unrelaxed. No doubt before long, the fire brigade would rush to the scene.

Yet out of curiosity, Sandella still picked up her telescope and aimed it at the direction of the fire.

This closer look made her heart skip a beat!

What caught fire was not some residential house, but the grand theater on Golden Street! Through the telescope, she could clearly see the theater's unique silhouette and the rooftop cross decoration burning fiercely in the flames. Yet just a week ago, the Sinclair Theater had even hosted the Second Prince and his entourage, and she never expected it to plunge into a sea of fire tonight.

At the same time, Sandella also noticed that there were completely no signs of burning around the edges of the theater, with only this single building emitting billowing thick smoke. This sight roused strong suspicion in her, because the grand theater also kept people on duty at night, making it unlikely to burn to this extent without anyone handling it. Since it was not implicated by surrounding fires, the answer was practically ready to emerge.

It was ten to one intentionally set on fire!

Yet why would anyone want to burn down such a harmless, famous landmark building?

For some reason, Sandella suddenly thought of that vanished fortune teller.

Could this matter be related to Cultists?

Pondering to this, she no longer had the heart to stay within the tower. Casually throwing on a trench coat, she walked briskly to the base of the tower, incidentally waking up her adjutant who was sleeping on the first floor.

"Milord... Are you heading to the fire scene?" The latter looked bewildered. "This sort of thing isn't worth you personally..."

"We aren't going to put out the fire," Sandella interrupted.

"Then what do you plan to do?"

"Gather the men from the City Guard's first squad, and have them bring their weapons," she replied in a deep voice. "We're going to catch the arsonist."

"Drink this, you'll feel a bit better."

Judy brought over a bowl of hot herbal soup and delivered it to Dane, who was bedridden.

After the latter finished drinking, he let out a long breath, and his complexion seemed to have grown much ruddier.

"I didn't even know you had a hiding spot like this." Judy looked around the circle, unable to help uttering an exclamation of admiration. Although this house was located deep in an alley, the interior space was not small at all; the three-bedroom, one-living-room design was fully sufficient to be used as a formal residence.

"In our line of work, one always has to be a bit careful," Dane gave two bitter smiles. "I just didn't expect that this time I'd actually get caught normal on the road. How's the situation outside?"

"There's been the sound of carriages and horses running on the street all along, and the fire alarms are intermittently striking the bell. I didn't dare go out to ask around, but probably no one has noticed this place."

"Mm... The horses and vehicles are probably the City Guard in action. After all, such a huge fire broke out, and what burned was even the Sinclair Theater..." Dane put down the bowl and leaned back against the head of the bed once more. "As long as no one comes looking for us tonight, we probably count as having slipped past."

"What are your plans next?" Judy's gaze returned to the other person, her tone filled with gentleness.

This sentence made Dane fall silent for a moment. After a short while, he finally spoke, "Ghost was right; the Jedi Brothers Newspaper doesn't dare publish this news. Once the storm blows over a bit, I might return to the Old Continent... The North City Police Station will definitely search for my whereabouts in secret, and I don't want to implicate you."

Gazing at Judy's worried expression, he forced another smile. "It's fine. If I can't expose them over here, do you think I can't do anything to them back there? No one can cover up the truth forever, and this ledger will ultimately be tallied on the true culprit's head. As for you..."

Speaking up to here, he suddenly lowered his voice, as if terribly afraid of being heard by others. "You said you found a private Detective... Those people who charged into the theater, are they also the Detective's subordinates?"

"I... actually don't quite know." Judy rubbed her head. "Mr. Chao never tells me the details of his investigations. This time he also visited suddenly, having me prepare a carriage to wait near the theater until he said it was time, and then he led me to charge in from the theater's main entrance. When we passed through the ticket lobby, we even bumped into fleeing police officers, and the gun was snatched from one of them."

"Then what on earth did you promise him?" Dane asked with unusual stiffness. "I mean... payment. It's impossible for him to help you for no reason..."

"Five hundred Ceriel."

"Just that?"

"What do you mean by just that!" Judy said with dissatisfaction. "That's the salary I can only earn in five years!"

"To ordinary people it's quite considerable, but you simply don't know what kind of figure you've brought in..." Dane closed his eyes, and in his mind he could not help recalling scene after scene inside the grand theater. Those people were merely the Detective's assistants? Even calling them suicide troops wouldn't be an overstatement! Facing blades, spears, and seas of fire without the slightest fear, willing to complete the mission even at the cost of their lives—such people were not something a few bags of coins could measure. The North City Police Station indeed suffered heavy losses, but weren't those people the same? Out of six people, only two ultimately survived. To want to cultivate four more such suicide troops again, how much energy and wealth would that take?

Such a cost was definitely not something a newspaper reporter could shoulder.

"Judy... Are you sure there wasn't anything else? Tell me the truth!"

Judy hesitated for a moment before speaking in a low voice, "The other party also wants some... Wish Force."