Fenn rubbed his chin. "Well, that goes back to today-oh, the early hours of yesterday morning. Tsk, if that guy hadn't given me his name, I wouldn't even know what to call him."
Yesterday, in the early hours of the morning.
Fenn was walking through an alley with two sacks over his shoulders. They contained the things he had just taken from the bank: one held a pile of boxes of all sizes, while the other contained a stack of books.
Even with both sacks on his shoulders, Fenn walked at a brisk pace.
The operation had gone more smoothly than expected. Once he handed the books to his contact and sent the rest back in batches according to plan, he should be able to report the job done... So Fenn thought, until he suddenly stopped near the alley's exit.
Someone was standing at the exit.
Fenn narrowed his eyes warily and studied the figure. He was a young man who looked to be in his early twenties, wearing a trench coat. Under the streetlight, his hair was a rare grayish white, and he was weighing a cane in his hand.
"Hey, brother, could you step aside?" Fenn lowered his voice and set the sacks on the ground, ready to fight at a moment's notice.
"I'm afraid I can't grant that request." There was a smile in the young man's voice. "After all, I'm here waiting for you."
Fenn's pupils contracted. Has the plan been exposed?
"Relax. I'm not with the authorities, and I won't be inviting you in for tea." The young man held the cane in one hand and tapped it against his other palm.
"...Who are you?"
"Normally, I wouldn't just give my name, but..." The young man paused. "Carlo Schuster. You should remember it well. It might come in handy later."
Carlo Schuster. Fenn searched his memory for the name, but it didn't ring any particular bells.
He let out a breath and forced a smile. "Well then, Mr. Schuster, it looks like you came here specifically to lie in wait for me. Could you do me a favor and let me pass? After all, I'm..."
"James Fenn, a freelance mercenary on the surface, but actually working for some big shot." Carlo nodded. "Do you need me to name that person too?"
Fenn's expression changed. "Since you know..."
"Yes, I know. And?" Carlo tilted his head. "Then you should understand that if I know and I'm still lying in wait for you, it means I don't care about the 'big shot' backing you, doesn't it?"
"...What do you want?"
"Nothing much. I've just taken a fancy to that sack of books. Could you do me a favor and part with it?"
Are you kidding me? Fenn thought. If the guy had wanted all the jewelry in the other sack, he could have had it. It wasn't Fenn's loss anyway. But he just had to want the books.
"Looks like you and my boss have your eyes on the same thing." Fenn reached for his waist with his right hand and gripped the hilt of his shortsword. His left hand went to the gun holster under his arm.
Carlo showed no sign of wariness as Fenn reached for his weapons. Instead, he casually brought up something else. "See this thing in my hand?"
"Hm?" Fenn was a little surprised by the change of subject, but remained on guard.
"An ebony cane, inlaid with silver and custom-made by a local master craftsman in Palmer." Carlo smiled. "Gentlemen in the Western Territory may be in the habit of carrying these things whenever they go out, but I'm not used to having a stick in my hand all the time. Still, I went out of my way to buy one yesterday. Do you know why?"
Fenn didn't answer, so Carlo continued on his own. "Because I needed it to smash someone's head. Using my fist would be rather undignified, but a cane makes me look quite the gentleman, don't you think?"
Faced with such an openly hostile statement, Fenn hesitated no longer. He drew his shortsword with his right hand and his revolver with his left.
A sword and a gun were the usual way mercenaries fought. In the wilderness, guns alone couldn't guarantee absolute safety against dangerous aberrant species. Some could charge right up to a person through a hail of bullets, so a melee weapon capable of cleaving them apart was indispensable.
But before Fenn could do anything else, Carlo's figure vanished from the alley entrance.
"What-" Fenn's entire body tensed. He hadn't seen Carlo move at all before he disappeared.
Then Carlo's voice rang out, seeming to echo through the alley and yet also to sound right beside Fenn's ear.
"Take a guess. What are the chances of my cane making intimate contact with your head?"
Fenn immediately spun around to guard his back, but there was no one behind him.
"What the..." Fenn's heart raced. From that trick, he was almost certain the man was a transcendent.
Then he heard another sound, like a pebble falling to the ground, coming from right beside his foot.
Fenn immediately looked down. Something rolled along the ground and gradually came to a stop in the light of a streetlamp.
It was a black twenty-sided die, each face marked with a white number.
...A die?
Fenn's mind went blank for a moment. He had only ever seen these things in taverns and casinos. Why was one here now... Could it be a medium for some kind of transcendent power?
"Oh my, what luck. A critical success. Looks like you really will need a good rest. Sleep like a baby."
Carlo's voice rang out again. Before Fenn could react, he felt something smash into his head, and then-
When he regained consciousness, he didn't know how much time had passed. It was still dark, but one of the two sacks beside him was gone.
Fenn forced himself to his feet and rubbed his head. It still seemed to ache from the heavy blow he had taken from something-probably the cane.
What the hell was that guy...
Confusion, anger, and fear mingled in Fenn's heart, but tracking down that suspicious fellow was obviously impossible now. Fenn had no choice but to pick up the remaining sack and head toward Amorton Manor.
The mission had failed, but more important than the failure was the question: just who was Carlo Schuster?
"So, when you heard me mention Carlo Schuster, you guessed that I was investigating him too," Isaac said.
Fenn nodded. "Of course. Anyone investigating that guy is most likely connected to this matter, I'd say."
Well, can I tell him that Carlo was actually the one who sent me to Amorton Manor? Isaac suppressed the urge to twitch his lips.
He had never expected this. He had thought he could find that mysterious "private detective" at Amorton Manor, but instead of finding him, he had drawn the attention of someone Carlo had screwed over. And, well, hadn't Carlo screwed him over too...?
More importantly, though, if what Fenn said was true, then...
So my books really are in Carlo's hands now?!