Tracked

Heka calmly looked at the old man before him.

His short sword was sheathed now, but his fingers kept tapping lightly against its hilt.

The old man had probably already seen his arm, perhaps even part of his cheek.

The man had done it deliberately. The question now was whether he simply intended to murder and rob him, or whether he was one of the people searching for him.

Just as Heka considered whether he could hide the body if he killed the man here, several children ran in from around the street corner.

They wore patched but sturdy, clean clothes, and their young cheeks bore the rough texture left by the sea wind.

In the end, Heka released his short sword, took the copper coins from the crate, then pushed his cart away.

The old man swallowed. Once he saw Heka leave, he immediately turned and hid in the warehouse behind him. Only after the heavy bolt dropped into place did he finally let out a breath.

A moment later, the old man appeared in a small tavern filled with filth.

Among the passing crowd were women wearing almost nothing beneath oversized coats, as well as brokers who laughed and flitted among burly drinkers.

There were also drunks clutching the edge of tables and vomiting onto the floor.

The old man did not linger amid the chaos. He passed through the crowd and eventually reached a corner at the side of the tavern.

There was only one person there: a man in gray clothes, with a tower of playing cards standing before him.

"Boss Foucault, I saw the person you told me to watch for."

The man in gray raised his head but did not immediately respond. Silence spread between them.

At last, the man in gray gathered up the cards before him. His palm slid across the tabletop, leaving five copper coins standing where his sleeve had rested moments earlier.

"Tell me about it."

"It was a little brat. He came to my place to buy things not long ago. He bought the proof down in the sewers, then took fifty pounds of black bread and forty pounds of dried fish in one go."

"The moment I saw the cloth wrapped around his arm, I knew the kid was probably trying to disguise himself as a halfling. But the little brat's gait was completely different from those halfling thieves or stingy gnomes."

"My eyes are sharp. I spotted it at once, and I even tested the kid."

"I was originally planning to grab him directly, but he was too slippery. I didn't dare make a move there, afraid I'd ruin your business, Boss."

"And that little bastard even bit back at me..."

Foucault raised his head, his gaze pausing on the wound on the old man's hand. It had only broken the skin and looked like it had been cut by a sharp weapon, probably a dagger or short sword.

The man knew that this display meant the old man wanted more money. Still, someone from the sewers, a child, and a bulk purchase of food all matched his target.

Ten copper coins were pressed onto the table. But when the old man reached for those shining, delightful little objects, a dagger slammed down between his slightly spread fingers.

The cold gleam of the blade pointed at the webbing between his fingers, stretched taut like a fallen leaf as his joints opened. The old man's arm trembled uncontrollably. The blade had nearly chopped straight into his palm.

"Even when beating a dog, you have to consider its owner. But I know where your house is. Rust Street, right?"

"Tell me. How many came? Which direction did they go? What were they wearing? How tall were they? Did they have shoes on? What did the weapon that injured you look like?"

After the old man finished stammering out his answers, he received his reward. But when Foucault summoned two little brats from nearby, he still did not leave.

Foucault frowned. A few days ago, one of their major clients had passed them some information.

They said that thirty Huika Gold Coins in stolen money had fallen into the hands of a little brat named Heka somewhere around Seapeak Port. Whoever got the money could keep it, and there would be a big job afterward.

The captain took the matter very seriously, so Foucault, the roguish scout most skilled at gathering information in the shadows, naturally took on the responsibility of investigating it.

These past few days, the only thing he had been able to confirm was that the client's information was probably true. Not long ago, he had discovered that the constables were also searching for the little brat called Heka.

Someone had even followed the people he sent out back to him to investigate his identity. That meant the constables definitely knew about this as well.

What irritated him was that the gangs and local thugs seemed to think he was an idiot. Previously, someone had even tried to pass off the corpse of a beaten-to-death kid as a clue.

Did they really think he was a fool? That corpse looked fifteen or sixteen at least, with fuzz already growing over its mouth.

That brat Heka was only seven or eight, twelve at the absolute most. They really dared shove any old thing at him.

The funds allocated by the group had been thrown around like water these past few days, yet there had been no progress. It made him feel miserable.

"Boss, there's one more thing. I saw his face."

The old man lowered his head, but his eyes were fixed greedily on the bulging money pouch at Foucault's waist.

Foucault narrowed his eyes and pressed down with one hand, signaling the two nearby child gang leaders to wait.

He leaned forward instead, staring hard at every wrinkle on the old man's face. Then another ten copper coins were pressed onto the table.

"A few days ago, the officials also gave orders to people like us who go out to buy rations. They told us to watch all unfamiliar faces buying large amounts of food at once, and they even gave us a portrait."

"I saw that portrait too. It seemed to be the same person you're looking for."

"Shut your mouth, or I'll chop you up and feed you to the dogs."

Foucault slapped the table and rose to his feet, leaving behind a full thirty copper coins.

After ordering one little brat to notify his teammates at their hideout, Foucault immediately summoned every kid he could mobilize.

Around the small tavern, more than ten people suddenly poured out of shacks, roadside food stalls, and alley entrances.

Foucault walked at the very back, keeping himself hidden in the shadows.

The other party was probably heading for the sewers. He had been keeping watch over the sewer entrances these past few days. These children would guard the surrounding entrances in groups of three.

The rest would head to every intersection and watch for short people carrying large crates.

Foucault judged that the other party had little fighting ability. Though he had injured an old man, that old man was nothing more than a street thug. Foucault could probably kick him apart with one blow.

The most important thing now was catching the target. Once they caught him, it would be over. Then they just needed to keep him secured until the boss arrived.

His boss was a level-three adventurer. And because Seapeak Port was governed by the Lineages themselves, Walin had no personnel stationed here. Instead, several Lineages jointly supported a level-six adventurer.

He had heard that the Wealth Church had recently sent someone close to the extraordinary to be stationed here.

But without exception, none of those people would make a move over thirty Huika Gold Coins.

That left only some level-four and level-five adventurers serving the five Lineages. Their team still could not beat them, but they could at least run to the Adventurers' Guild and request mediation.

Foucault licked his gums. It had been a long time since he had felt the thrill of the hunt.

Heka threw the crate of miscellaneous goods from his backpack into the crate holding the food, then stored both of them in his backpack together. Fortunately, the backpack did not require the lid to be closed. As long as the two objects were connected, it worked.

Heka had even tried tying two objects together with rope and storing them in the backpack at the same time.

The only risk was that they would come out in the same state, making it impossible to use either one immediately.

After storing the goods in his backpack, Heka finally let out a breath and leaned against the wall to catch his breath briefly.

Next came the escape. He still wanted to see whether he could buy a crossbow, but he did not know when that old bastard guarding the warehouse would report him. Getting back to the sewers quickly was more important now.

It had been a full six hours since Heka left the shelter. Moving through the sewers consumed a great deal of stamina. Even with Heka's excellent sense of direction and familiarity with certain shortcuts in the area, he still felt exhausted.

Heka took two pieces of cheese from his backpack, tipped back his head, and swallowed them. They were a bit cloying without any staple food, but any strength he could replenish was worth replenishing.

After a short rest, Heka immediately abandoned the cart in his hands and returned to the main road. The alleys were hidden, but there was too little room for error. Once he was caught, he would be dead.