1 Crown Street

38 Widow Street, one o'clock in the morning.

His timing was perfect. Renato put away his pocket watch. He was not someone who liked arriving too early.

He knocked on the door, and a stocky man opened it. Renato recognized Petro, who wore the same metal mask.

Petro glanced both ways and only stepped aside to usher the two inside once he was certain no one had followed them.

The crowd they had expected was nowhere to be seen. There was only an empty room. In its center, a rough rug had been carelessly pulled aside, exposing a pitch-black opening beneath it, with stone steps leading down.

They followed Petro into the tunnel, dust dancing in the lantern's glow.

A few minutes later, the narrow passage opened up, and Renato arrived at a secret chamber.

Seven "cleaners" sat around a table. They all turned toward the three entering through the door and began shouting:

"A knight in plate armor? Petro, you can even recruit people like this? What does the guild have on him?"

"A knight and a witch. That's a bad omen."

They muttered among themselves for a while, only gradually quieting under Petro's stare.

The most conspicuous of them was a bald man with a brutish face. He alone wore no mask. His belted fur coat was decorated with bones, and vivid blue tattoos covered his scalp, extending all the way down to his chin.

His "armor" consisted of corroded bronze plates crudely riveted to leather. It offered little protection while being extremely heavy.

It looked like an instrument of torture. Renato could hardly consider it armor.

A typical Northman barbarian. Yet this barbarian's eyes were empty, lacking the usual Northmen fervor. Renato felt as though his gaze could pierce the mask.

"Gorlag."

His Common carried a heavy accent. Presumably, the barbarian was introducing himself.

"Grisel. Swordsman."

Gorlag approached, stared into Renato's eyes, and said:

"Southerner, you should take off your mask. That way, the gods can see your face in battle."

That was all the more reason to keep his mask firmly on. Renato did not want another deity taking an "interest" in him. Dakoul alone was enough of a headache.

As an imperial, the original owner of his body had known something of the Great Glacier's culture. Among Northmen, anyone who gave no surname was either a child or an exile abandoned by his tribe.

The man before him was undoubtedly the latter.

The other six all wore masks and said nothing. Apparently, they had no intention of getting acquainted with Renato.

"Everyone, the third group is now complete. Follow me. Don't fall behind or wander off. Some of the side passages lead to traps."

The tunnel was longer and more complicated than he had imagined. Petro's lantern was their only light, and everyone followed closely behind him. Apart from their footsteps and the occasional muffled noise overhead, the passage was deathly silent.

Renato could sense the restlessness and impatience radiating from the "cleaners" around him. Gorlag's heavy breathing was especially conspicuous in the tunnel.

Perly stayed close beside Renato, her tightly clenched, white-knuckled fingers betraying her nerves.

Renato discreetly adjusted the position of his sword hilt, ensuring he could respond to any sudden threat from either direction.

After roughly twenty minutes, they reached a wooden trapdoor overhead. Petro stopped and signaled for silence, then tapped lightly on it in a rhythmic pattern.

A faint answering sound came from above. The trapdoor opened, revealing a face wearing the same mask, its owner warily surveying those below.

Petro climbed up first, and Renato and the others quickly followed him out of the tunnel.

The exit was hidden in the dining room of an ordinary house in the Inner District. Three fully armed members of the Assassins' Guild guarded it, all wearing black studded leather armor, with crossbows set up.

One exchanged a few quiet words with Petro, then silently retreated into a corner.

"Everyone, keep track of the time." Petro took out his pocket watch to check it and addressed the nine members of the third group. "It is now one twenty-five in the morning. You have ten minutes to reach the gates of 1 Crown Street."

"The first and second groups will begin at precisely one thirty-five. Once they do, you may kill as you please. Arson and robbery are fine too. Just make certain that no living thing enters the mansion before one fifty!"

"If you flee early or abandon your post, Master Echo will personally skin you, even if you run to the ends of the earth."

"If you carry out your assignment properly, you will not only collect glittering gold coins, but also earn the guild's friendship. We will give you priority for all kinds of future commissions..."

Carrot and stick. Nothing original.

Finishing his brief speech, Petro pointed at an inconspicuous little door. "Leave through there. Go straight for two intersections, then turn right. You all have the map memorized, yes?"

"I will wait here. Make sure you return before two. I will take you out of the Inner City then."

Without further words, the nine slipped silently out of the room, one after another, and melted into the Inner District's night.

Unlike the Outer District, which had no curfew, Crown Avenue was free of drunks and noisy revelry. Renato hurried along the level flagstones.

At a corner, the group unexpectedly ran into two patrolling guards. The cleaner in front struck swiftly, dealing with the trouble before the guards could make a sound.

No one spared a thought for the still-warm bodies on the ground. The mansion stood at the heart of the Inner District, and the closer they came, the grander the surrounding buildings grew. The lofty spires of two mage towers rose into the night sky, unconsciously quickening everyone's steps.

Everything seemed to be going according to plan. The Reisingen family's imposing gilded perimeter wall was already in sight. Renato could even see the neatly tended flowers and shrubs through the wrought-iron gates.

Boom!

A deafening explosion suddenly erupted from the mansion's main building!

Blazing fire instantly tore through the night, lighting Crown Street as brightly as day! Even Renato and the others, still some distance away, felt the blast wave and a faint tremor beneath their feet!

"What happened?!" Gorlag growled, so startled that he blurted it out in the Northmen's language.

"Wasn't it supposed to be one thirty-five?! It's not time yet!" another masked cleaner cried.

Had the guild acted early? Or had something gone wrong?

Renato did not know what had just happened, but he knew what was about to happen. That enormous fireball would draw the entire city's attention. Battle was imminent!

Without needing a word, Perly began chanting, perfectly in sync with him. Flames rose from the Silent Lady.

A large hole had been blasted in the mansion's perimeter wall. Several suits of animated armor poured through the breach, following their orders to guard the grounds and searching for the enemies who had damaged the courtyard.

These were nothing like the bargain-basement animated armor Renato had seen before. They were made from ornately decorated suits of full plate armor, with eerie blue magical light burning in their eyes.

They wielded fine weapons-greatswords, halberds, and polehammers-and indiscriminately attacked every living thing nearby, naturally including Renato and the others.

Battle erupted in an instant!

Renato faced a suit of animated armor wielding a halberd. Its sweeping reach was immense. He tried to sidestep and close in, only to be driven back by the halberd's side blade.

Retreating two steps, Renato drew a javelin from his Bag of Holding. The sluggish construct made no attempt to dodge the ranged attack. The point punched through its visor and lodged inside its helmet.

The animated armor did not fall. Its core was not in its head. But the javelin sticking from its helmet severely hampered its movements.

These constructs were skilled fighters with sturdy armor, but they could not adapt. The Flame Longsword swept down, felling his opponent as its attacks grew badly distorted.

Nearby, Perly chanted a spell. A Ray of Frost shot from her fingertip, striking a suit of animated armor trying to flank Renato from behind.

Frost rapidly spread over the metal. Though it failed to freeze the armor solid, it greatly slowed its movements.

The barbarian's battle cry was deafening. His crude, bone-decorated battle-axe slammed into a greatsword raised to block it, the collision throwing off dazzling sparks.

The other cleaners displayed their own skills. One darted in and out with a light scimitar, while another blocked with a shield and swung a flail.

The explosion and sounds of fighting alerted the surrounding streets.

The first to arrive was a squad of drunken City Guard soldiers. Shocked, they were swept into the melee and soon caught between the animated armor and the cleaners.

One guard ordered Renato to surrender in a trembling voice, waving his longsword wildly as though trying to bolster his own courage.

What sort of opening stance was that? He actually dared leave his centerline unguarded!

Renato stepped forward and instantly closed the distance. The Flame Longsword gave the guard no chance to regret his mistake. Avoiding the Ring Mail protecting his chest, it sheared straight through his sword-bearing right arm.

The blade swept back, cutting off the howl in the guard's throat. Blood gushing from the headless corpse stained Renato's black cloak red.

Whoosh!

At the sound of something cutting through the air, Renato instinctively turned sideways toward the enemy, reducing the target he presented.

Clang!

A crossbow bolt ricocheted off his pauldrons and flew toward another guard trying to circle around him.

The broken shaft stabbed into the guard's face. Screaming, he dropped his weapon and clutched his bleeding face, loudly cursing his fellow soldier.

A cone of flame swept over him, turning his curses into screams.

Several guards' wool coats caught fire under Burning Hands. They threw down their weapons and rolled on the ground, wailing desperately.

"There's a mage! Where are the crossbowmen?!" the guard captain roared furiously from the rear, pointing at Perly nearby. "Aim at her! Kill that witch first! Hurry-"

A lead-tipped dart drove precisely into his eye socket, churning his brain to pulp.

Watching the guards scatter and flee as their morale collapsed, Renato put away his remaining darts in satisfaction.

Apparently, he had not lost his touch. His aim was as good as ever.

The animated armor was troublesome, but under the combined assault of experienced cleaners and the City Guard soldiers who kept arriving to complicate matters, it was soon reduced to smoking fragments scattered across the ground.

The Northman barbarian smashed the last suit of animated armor with an absurdly large two-handed axe. Suddenly, he froze, stared into the distance, and murmured:

"Suðr-Lið..."

Renato had never specifically studied the Northmen's language and did not know what the prefix meant, but he knew what the latter word referred to in their culture.

A barbarian warband, usually called a Norse Warband in imperial texts.

Measured footsteps sounded from the far end of the street. More than fifty soldiers wore matching Emblem surcoats and carried heater shields, arming swords, billhooks, cranequin crossbows...

A standard-bearer raised a Noble War Banner and sounded a horn.

Their column instantly shifted into ranks spanning the street. The first rank carried swords and shields, while the second and third bore assorted polearms and crossbows. A squad of greatsword-wielding soldiers stood on the flank, fine plate-and-mail armor faintly visible beneath their surcoats.

A dismounted knight with relics decorating his helmet and a halberd in hand anchored the rear. His heavy three-layer armor was covered in gleaming runes.

The knight raised a holy symbol bearing the image of a burning, flame-bladed longsword. From beneath his visor, he cried out the divine name of Tempus, Lord of Battles.

Blazing divine power descended. Every soldier around him had their weapon imbued with crimson power, radiating a magical glow.

They were the Atwood family's noble mercenaries!

A heavy crossbow bolt shot toward them and struck with a thud, dropping an unfamiliar "companion" beside Renato.

"Fuck! The guild didn't pay me for this!" one cleaner cursed, turning to flee.

"Renato, what do we do now? There's still time left-"

"Forget the time!" Ignoring Perly's slip of the tongue, Renato hoisted her onto his shoulder and ran.

No one intended to keep fulfilling the Assassins' Guild's commission. Armed robbery and killing guards were one thing. Facing a noble's army head-on was another.

Just thirty gold coins-why risk their lives for that!

Crossbow bolts flew past him. Renato did not panic, instead following his planned escape route.

Over the previous two days, he had made a point of familiarizing himself with the streets around Crown Street. He decided to circle around and shake off any pursuers before heading to the guild's meeting point.

The noble's troops did not pursue them, instead forming up before the mansion gates.

Wielding his sword one-handed, Renato used its flames to frighten off a patrolling guard who tried to block him, while thinking:

Where had the Assassins' Guild's people gone? Surely they couldn't all have been blown up? Why wasn't there even a single corpse...

At this hour of the morning, how could such a well-ordered noble army have assembled and reached the scene less than ten minutes after the explosion?

Even with Perly's help, it normally took him five minutes to put on a full suit of plate armor, never mind mustering and forming ranks...

And why were these the Atwood family's troops? Where was the Three Swords' Pact?

Everything reeked of conspiracy. Renato tightened his grip on the little mage over his shoulder and accelerated again.

Renato pushed the door open with his sword tip and cautiously surveyed the room.

Petro was gone, as were the Assassins' Guild's assassins. The once-crowded room now looked utterly empty.

Frowning, Renato moved aside the wooden trapdoor concealed beneath the furniture. There was no one inside, either.

Footprints crisscrossed the ground, and a few bloodstains remained on the tunnel wall. Someone had probably injured their fingers.

They had promised to wait until two, yet the guild's people had left early?

The tunnel was trapped and full of branching passages. How were they supposed to leave without a guide?

Would they have to hide in the Inner City overnight and leave tomorrow?

As he racked his brains, the little mage braced herself against the wall and spoke:

"Renato, I remember the way we came." Perly had been jostled so badly during the run that she had nearly thrown up. "And don't carry me over your shoulder next time. I told you I could run myself..."

"You really remember? Don't push yourself. If the guild dared leave without concealing anything, that means the tunnel really is trapped. They weren't bluffing."

"If necessary, we can hide on Oak Street nearby for the night. There are a few empty houses there..."

"If I say I remember, then I remember!" Perly glared at Renato and descended into the tunnel. "I'm a mage! Don't question a mage's memory! And don't treat me like a child!"