"Boss, are we just letting them go?" asked a tall, thin young man behind Cyril, a Black Flame tattoo on his left cheek, his voice indignant.
Before Cyril could speak, another man beside him snapped:
"Ben, shut up!
"I know two of your brothers died in that fight, but you're not the only one who lost people. I lost several brothers too.
"Sergeant Ward came in person to vouch for them. If we don't let Calvin and his men leave, are you planning to go toe-to-toe with those black-and-white dogs?"
"So what if I am? You think I'm a coward?" the young man called Ben snorted. "Just say the word, boss, and I'll be the first to charge!"
"Enough. Both of you, quiet!"
Without turning around, Cyril cut short the argument between his two trusted men.
His cold gaze moved between the two groups still nearby on Neeson Street. Only when they had vanished completely did he slowly look away.
"Ben, unless we decide one day that we're leaving Backlund for good, never provoke Sivellaus Yard lightly.
"Sergeant Ward has someone backing him. I have to give him that much respect.
"But..."
Cyril changed tack and turned to Ben.
"This isn't over!
"Have someone write to that gentleman and ask him to summon me as soon as possible. Also... keep a close eye on Calvin and his men. I'm sure you'll be more than happy to do that."
"Don't worry, boss. Leave it to me." Ben brightened and answered without hesitation.
Then Cyril turned to the other man who had been arguing.
"Ban, you and your brothers handle the aftermath. If you're short on money, go to the bar and have the accountant divert some of the takings."
"Understood."
Ban nodded lightly and accepted his assignment.
Cyril let out a long breath and told them, "All right, I'll leave this to you. Now that we've confirmed Calvin is behind this..."
"I'm heading back to Cherwood Borough today."
They're splitting up? Hidden in an alley, Lorry watched the men outside the apartment divide into three groups and head in different directions. His spirits lifted.
He breathed out silently and slipped after Cyril and his bodyguards.
Cyril has different bodyguards now. Did the previous two die in that clash...? My intuition tells me none of these men are Beyonders...
That makes sense. Beyonders aren't weeds growing by the roadside. You don't find them everywhere... Having Beyonders guard a gang boss would be far too extravagant...
With their abilities, they could easily work for wealthy merchants or nobles...
Lorry followed the three men effortlessly, with enough attention to spare for idle thoughts.
With his targets in the open and himself in the shadows, his skills, honed over years of pickpocketing and enhanced by his Potion, left him with no fear of discovery.
And so the four of them walked to Cherwood Borough, three ahead and one behind.
The surroundings in Cherwood Borough were noticeably better than those in East Borough.
The roads were broad and clean. At regular intervals, stone pillars stood beside them, topped with gas lamps to light the way for pedestrians at night.
This undoubtedly made Lorry's task more difficult.
He could only put a little more distance between them.
The four continued onward. After another ten minutes or so, Lorry saw Cyril and his two men suddenly double back and turn into a detached house with a garden that they had just passed.
Good thing I was cautious enough not to follow too closely... Badly startled, he hid behind a wall and silently breathed a sigh of relief. A feeling rose within him.
This time, he might finally have found Cyril's real hideout!
The lights in the house came on, then went out, leaving it dark.
But Lorry did not move. He waited patiently in the shadows behind the wall, only stepping forward once he was certain this was not another test.
By the light of the gas lamps, he made out the house number.
39 Kingster Street!
Though eager for revenge, Lorry did not rush to act. After silently repeating the address several times, he found a small inn nearby that did not require identification.
He planned to observe the house's interior the next day, especially its layout and whether anyone else lived there.
That would spare him unnecessary trouble.
After a quick wash, Lorry lay down on the reasonably clean single bed and soon fell fast asleep beneath the crimson moonlight.
By the time Lorry woke, it was already noon the next day.
Ravenous, he found the nearest restaurant and picked up a complimentary copy of the Backlund Morning Post while waiting for his food.
"There's a gathering tonight?"
Spotting the coded message on page five, Lorry felt a sudden stir of interest.
That Fat Apothecary missed the last gathering. I wonder if he'll come this time... He took my research funding and still hasn't given me the sleeping agent...
As these thoughts surfaced, he calmly turned the page and decided to try his luck at the gathering hosted by the old gentleman from the Eye of Wisdom that night.
An anesthetic would be a tremendous help with his next move.
After lunch, Lorry put on False Face and went to the café diagonally opposite 39 Kingster Street, watching carefully from across the road.
Evening soon arrived.
Through the window, he saw Cyril and his two bodyguards come out, hail a carriage, and leave in the direction of East Borough. Three women stood on the steps, one in front and two behind, watching them go.
Inside the café, Lorry murmured thoughtfully to himself:
"The two maids are easy to identify. The other young woman was quite intimate with Cyril. Could she be his wife or mistress?
"I wonder if they have children. Hopefully not... In other words, if I strike here, I'll have at least six people to deal with."
He lifted his coffee and took a sip, a grave look flickering in his eyes.
Cherwood Borough was not East Borough. Police patrols were frequent, and although public safety was not on par with Empress Borough or West Borough, it was still quite good.
And Holy Wind Cathedral was located here.
Any major disturbance might bring the police running.
Or even the Church of Storms' Mandated Punishers!
Phew... It looks like I really can't miss tonight's Beyonder gathering... Otherwise, I'll have to buy something similar from a hospital... That would be quite troublesome, and it certainly wouldn't work as well as the Fat Apothecary's products... Lorry slowly exhaled, finished the last of his coffee, and rose to head toward the Brave
Hearts Bar.
Eight that evening.
The gathering hosted by the old gentleman from the Eye of Wisdom began on time.
Much to his relief, Lorry spotted that plump figure among the crowd. He waited patiently for the free discussion period, then went over and paid the outstanding balance from last time.
In return, he received four doses of anesthetic.
Two liquid, two gas.
After the gathering, Lorry returned to the café, ordered snacks and juice, and leisurely enjoyed them while patiently waiting for his target to appear.
At nearly midnight, a waitress approached the few remaining customers in turn and quietly reminded them, "Sir, we'll be closing in a few minutes."
Why hasn't Cyril returned yet...? Was my guess wrong? Is this just one of his secret residences...? It looks like I'll have to keep watching...
Well, I could also focus on this place and wait for him to show up again...
Several thoughts surfaced in Lorry's mind at once. With an apologetic expression, he gave a slight nod and reached for his parcel, preparing to return to the inn.
Just then, Lorry instinctively glanced outside again.
He saw three familiar figures appear around the street corner beneath the yellow glow of the lamps, heading straight toward number 39.
Watching today gave me a rough idea of the house's layout... No time like the present... Otherwise, who knows how long I'll have to wait for another chance... And I've just obtained the anesthetic... After a moment's consideration, Lorry decided to make his move that night.
The corners of his mouth lifted in a silent smile.
Two minutes later.
Lorry left under the guise of an ordinary passerby. An hour later, he returned, approached number 39 without a sound, and took a metal tube from his pocket.
He inserted one end of the tube into the gap around the front door and connected the other to the gaseous anesthetic.
His hand squeezed gently. With a soft hiss, the leather container rapidly deflated until its sides lay flat against each other.
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