The Way of the Thief

Half the potato field had been dug up, and the farmland guards slept soundly in the windbreak shelter, the only clue to their ordeal being the lumps on the backs of their heads that hadn't fully gone down.

They had been knocked out, not fallen asleep from exhaustion.

Inside the windbreak shelter, there was an equivalent amount of money and a certain quantity of smoked meat.

A thief with honor, Medivh hadn't slaughtered this group of drifters who sought only a peaceful corner to govern themselves, nor had he completely stolen the potatoes they relied on to survive.

These drifters had never provoked him; there was no reason to kill people just to steal some potatoes.

He left behind money to pay for the potatoes and gifted the Drifter Stronghold a batch of smoked meat to improve their meals.

Anyway, Medivh had agreed to this transaction—whether the drifters were willing or not didn't matter.

The potato field had been dug up, and the Drifter Stronghold's leader could figure it out. After all, the Odyssey Region was currently in a famine, with starving thugs and alien races coming to steal and rob from time to time.

What he couldn't understand was, what kind of decent person comes to steal potatoes, only takes half, doesn't kill anyone, and leaves behind money and some smoked meat?

That was very un-Odyssey!

Medivh wasn't a native of the Odyssey Region; he had his own code of conduct. It was normal for the Drifter Stronghold's leader to be baffled.

When the farmland guards who had been knocked out were woken up, they had no idea who had hit them and couldn't provide any information.

The mysterious thief left no clues behind.

This incident caused no loss to the Drifter Stronghold, but having someone break into your home was certainly nothing to celebrate.

The Drifter Stronghold's leader immediately assigned more guards to watch over the remaining potato fields.

That noon, the Drifter Stronghold used the smoked meat Medivh had gifted to make several large pots of potato and meat stew.

The aroma of meat filled the air, and the drifters, who hadn't tasted meat in a long time, drooled with craving.

The Drifter Stronghold's meals had improved.

Similarly, meals had improved in Kurd City. Audrey was devouring the mashed potatoes, pan-fried baby potatoes, and potato-braised Magic Beast meat that Medivh had personally cooked.

Over at the Drifter Stronghold, there was too little meat; here in Kurd City, they were tired of meat and needed a change of pace.

"Fish is still better!"

Suixiang and the other cat-girls tried the mashed potatoes, but due to their clan's dietary habits, they preferred meat, especially fish.

Their favorite dish was potato-braised fish—the rich fish broth and the potatoes soaked in it were a perfect match.

It was rare for Medivh to cook himself, so Audrey and the Alien Maids feasted on the delicacies, savoring this honor.

The skeletons didn't need to eat; some were patrolling, some were building the city wall, and others were moving potatoes to dark, damp places to sprout.

Once the potatoes sprouted, they could be cut into pieces and planted in the tilled farmland. Kurd City's agriculture was beginning to develop.

Agriculture relied heavily on water management. Every year from mid-to-late June to mid-July was the rainy season in the Odyssey Region, with frequent heavy downpours.

The Farmland District's drainage facilities had to be complete to ensure the potato fields weren't flooded.

Drainage and irrigation facilities went hand in hand; during seasons with little rain, water could be diverted from the nearby Reservoir District for irrigation.

"Medivh, you really didn't disappoint me!"

At the Hobarton Family estate in Loran City, Wester received the message from the intermediary, his eyes dark and cold.

Back then, Medivh had been far too calm in the face of a series of events like sudden exile and broken engagement. Wester felt this kid wasn't simple and had specially spent money to prepare a "surprise" for him.

Medivh had proven him right, cleverly dodging his cleanup plan and not going to the Pioneer Territory.

"Lord Wester, that group of thugs says the previous mission wasn't completed and wants you to pay to add another one."

The purpose of the Blood Crow Mercenary Group's message was to get Wester to pay for an additional mission.

Without money, they wouldn't go scouring the wilderness for Medivh.

Wester's steward was furious at these thugs who didn't faithfully fulfill their contracts.

But the Blood Crow Mercenary Group was in the Odyssey Region, beyond their reach; they couldn't settle scores with them.

"Add it. As his uncle, I have to take good care of my nephew!"

Wester clenched his fist until his knuckles cracked, his words devoid of any warmth of kinship.

As long as Medivh wasn't dead, there was a chance he could turn things around. Wester didn't want the family position he'd worked so hard to obtain to be snatched away again.

As long as the Blood Crow Mercenary Group could kill Medivh, he was willing to pay.

If it weren't for people watching and the need to maintain appearances, Wester wouldn't have even let Medivh pass through Winter Fortress.

But Medivh still held the title of Pioneer, and assassinating him within the Gewalt Federation would have very bad repercussions.

If the assassination were exposed, the Hobarton Family's political enemies would surely make a big deal of it, and Wester's competitors would seize the chance to drag him down from his position as high-ranking heir.

However, the thing he worried about didn't exist at all. Medivh had no interest whatsoever in the title of Earl Hobarton.

He had long wanted to break free from the cage and build his own foundation.

Wester's scheming to exile him to the Odyssey Region had, to some extent, helped Medivh achieve his goal.

Of course, Medivh wouldn't thank him. Medivh knew Wester wanted him dead.

This grudge, Medivh would remember. When the time was right, he would make Wester pay in blood.

"Well, well—looks like Wester really looks out for his nephew!"

The Blood Crow Mercenary Group's price wasn't low, so receiving Wester's additional mission payment so quickly surprised the Blood Crow leader.

He was even a bit curious about the story between Wester and Medivh—what drove Wester to relentlessly pursue a nephew already exiled to Odyssey?

Of course, that thought only flickered past; the Blood Crow leader had no interest in the messy affairs of noble families.

"White Crow, take some men and find that Necromancer—kill him. Don't keep our client waiting."

This time, the Blood Crow leader didn't play tricks. He still counted on the noble families of the Gewalt Federation to make his fortune, so maintaining a bit of reputation was necessary.

He sent his right-hand man, the Blood Crow Mercenary Group's deputy leader White Crow, to scour the wilderness for the Necromancer.

As for whether that Necromancer was Medivh—it didn't matter at all.

If he said it was, it was. Whoever that Necromancer was, they'd be killed as Medivh to close the case.

Just like how they'd tacitly accepted Medivh's death before—if a Necromancer suspected to be Medivh died, then Medivh was dead.

Kill that Necromancer, and Wester's additional mission would be over.

If someone else suspected to be Medivh popped up later, that would be a separate matter.

"No wonder Wester's so eager to kill his nephew!"

The spot where the Skeleton Assassin was discovered wasn't far from Kurd.

The Kurd Nine-Grid had already taken shape. Covering ten square kilometers, Kurd stood out starkly on the wasteland, and it didn't take long for the Blood Crow Mercenary Group to find it.

After discovering Kurd, White Crow and the other mercenaries understood why Wester wanted Medir dead at all costs.

This Necromancer apprentice sure knew how to stir things up—in just one year, he'd built a fortress of no small scale.

Give him a few more years to develop, and he might actually become a force to reckon with.

But that was impossible now. Medivh would die beneath his greatsword, and this fortress—the Blood Crow Mercenary Group would gladly take it off his hands.

White Crow was thrilled—he hadn't expected such a pleasant surprise.