Chapter 45. The Lightkeeper (1)
“I saw this coming,” the maid retorted icily.
“Well, I expected something. But a Wallachia human hunter? Didn’t see that one coming,” Isaac admitted.
He was banking on a paladin from the Golden Idol guild to show up, but a Wallachia hunter? That threw a wrench into his plans.
The Golden Idol had the knack of hiring paladins from various faiths, even turning them against each other if need be. It was a skill other guilds couldn’t boast of. Plus, their hired guns got blessings from the Golden Idol itself.
In a flash, the maid hurled her spear. Isaac felt that near-miss vibe, realizing she was no run-of-the-mill hunter; her skills outshone others he’d faced.
“Almost as good as Heinckel, maybe even better? Impressive,” he thought.
Isaac braced himself for a tough brawl, knowing fairness wasn’t in his opponent’s playbook.
“What’s the deal with Heinkel Gullmar?” he prodded.
The maid didn’t answer but her trembling spear spilled the beans. It was clear she was linked to Gullmar’s ducal house. Isaac hit the nail on the head, suspecting she was none other than Hesabel Gullmar, the heir.
The maid was so done. She couldn’t hide her feelings at all. The sudden whirlwind of emotions on her face was too obvious to even get mad about getting caught. She looked totally embarrassed and anxious.
“Wait, why is the heir to the Gullmar ducal house here, dressed as a maid, and working as a mercenary?”
“Hey!” The maid finally snapped, swinging her spear like crazy.
The walls and pillars shattered with incredible force, leaving a huge mess behind.
Isaac, watching all this, couldn’t help but be bewildered.
“Seriously?” Hesabel seemed to lose her steam, lowering her spear. Finding an opening, Isaac lunged forward with Isaac Swordsmanship: Eight Branches. In no time, the room’s walls, floor, and ceiling were torn apart with eight strikes aimed at Hesabel.
Caught off guard by Isaac’s sudden shift in strategy, Hesabel was caught off balance, expecting a chat instead of a fight. A spear needed some prep work before it could be used effectively, showing its big movements.
Among the eight strikes Isaac unleashed, two hit Hesabel, but the rest were deflected. In that brief moment, Hesabel showed off some fancy spear moves, leaving smooth marks on the walls where she struck.
If Isaac hadn’t dodged or blocked, those hits would have gone straight through him.
Hesabel’s wounds seemed to heal rapidly, almost like they were never there.
Realizing he couldn’t take her out without using his tendrils, Isaac decided to talk it out.
“Can we have a chat?”
“This guy…” She muttered a curse but quickly stopped herself. Isaac just shrugged.
“I have no clue what you bloodsuckers are up to here in the White Empire. Working for a shady boss in a border town? Planning some sneaky scheme?”
Isaac couldn’t help but wonder if the Wallachia hunters were stirring up trouble here like they did at the Ariet Monastery. But then again, it was more likely the Immortal Order’s doing, not the Red Grail.
Hesabel gnashed her teeth, then pointed her spear at Isaac.
“It’s all because of you!”
“Me?”
“My uncle had the Rite of Division, and you took it! I’m here to get it back!”
The Rite of Division, a prized possession of the Red Chalice Club, was worth chasing after even risking your life. She must have come here alone or with a few elites since she couldn’t bring an army. But there were still so many unanswered questions.
“But why the maid getup?”
“Shut it!” Hesabel swung her spear once more. Isaac thought about pulling off the Prophet of the Red Flesh move like he did with Heinckel, but there was no time for that now.
Loud footsteps were closing in from outside.
“Who goes there!”
Startled by Hesabel’s chaos, the guards and security forces of the inn were rushing towards them. This place was well-guarded, with a strong security presence. Hesabel glared at Isaac, but she had already missed her chance.
She vanished into a mist that engulfed Seor, turning into a red mist herself.
Isaac kept his eyes on the red mist, not letting it slip away.
***
The heart of Seor’s logistics revolved around the riverside, so the waterways were well-maintained, with sewers leading into the rivers throughout the city.
Isaac picked one of these underground sewers to sneak into. Well, he wasn’t about to sit around twiddling his thumbs waiting for Yukhar to hand over the Shepherd’s Figurine. With Yukhar sending an assassin dressed as a maid instead of owning up and passing over the figurine, it was clear he was gearing up to either bolt or put up a fight. And Isaac had kinda seen this coming.
He had pretty much written off the chances of Yukhar willingly giving up the relic. Instead, he figured if he poked at his weak spot a bit, Yukhar would come barreling towards the relic in desperation. And lo and behold, things were unfolding just as he had envisioned.
“Here’s where it is,” Zihilrat’s message mentally reached Isaac. Being smarter than your average rat had its perks, even if the communication was a bit awkward, the words were fancy. Born from a rat, Zihilrat was handy for sneaky jobs like assassinations, infiltrations, and tracking.
“To think I’d be led right to the relic like this,” Isaac thought, a bitter smirk curling on his lips. Yukhar seemed to be hanging all his hopes on the relic alone. The big shots at the Golden Idol guild had a punishment in store for him, and the influential folks in Seor wouldn’t be thrilled to find out they had been played, especially after that suspicious potion incident.
What else did Yukhar have up his sleeve besides the relic?
And then, things took a turn.
[The Nameless Chaos is watching you.]
[The Nameless Chaos wants to ‘purify’ this messed-up sanctuary.]
[A reward from Chaos awaits you.]
Isaac’s stride faltered.
“The Shepherd’s Crook is stashed in a sanctuary?” he pondered. While he knew Seor had sanctuaries, significant spots often had one. This particular one likely belonged to the Golden Idol guild, and Isaac had no interest in stirring that pot.
But the fact that Yukhar had sought refuge here for some supernatural boost was puzzling.
“The Golden Idol’s a bit… lacking in defense,” Isaac mused. Yet, it made sense why Yukhar was holed up here, seemingly cornered. And why the Shepherd’s Figurine was flexing such potent power.
He was tapping into the sanctuary’s mojo.
And it seemed there was a guardian entity shielding Yukhar.
“Hey there, heir to the Gullmar ducal house.”
Hesabel stood before Isaac, looking weary. Gone was the maid disguise, replaced by the sleek, top-notch threads of a Wallachia hunter.
“I’d appreciate it if you’d drop the title. Feels like a bit of an insult, you know?”
“I go by Isaac. You knew that already, right?”
Hesabel nodded, gripping her spear, but there was no immediate aggression in her stance, just resting the tip of her weapon on the ground.
“Just give back the Rite of Division. Then, I’ll bug off and leave you be.”
Isaac eyed her curiously. He had no plans of giving it up, but he was intrigued why the heir to the Gullmar ducal house was running shadows under Yukhar’s command in Seor’s underbelly.
“Why were you sticking by Yukhar?”
“It’s because of you.”
“Could’ve just jumped me elsewhere for the Rite of Division,” Isaac pointed out. Hesabel tried to stay mute, but Isaac nonchalantly produced the Rite of Division from his belt. Her gaze wavered.
“Speak true, and maybe I’ll hand it over.”
“You, you!”
“I swear on the Codex of Light.”
So, like, Isaac didn’t really care much about it being a deity, but Hesabel was totally shocked by his oath, man. She never expected a paladin to swear on their faith over something like that. But the idea of getting back the Rite of Division with just a few words was too tempting for Hesabel to resist finally speaking up.
“Uh, yeah, so I kinda ran out of cash while trying to track you down.”
Hesabel had been tailing Isaac all the way from the Ariet Valley, thinking it would be a quick trip to grab the Rite of Division and bounce.
The thing is, this was Hesabel’s first solo adventure in months. She didn’t realize the journey would take so long or cost so much cheddar.
Sure, she could manage with blood for food and crashing outside, but roughing it through a harsh winter was a bit much for a duchess used to the luxe life.
On top of that, dodging the sun and hiring help on the down-low was pricey.
By the time she hit Seor, her wallet was as empty as my inbox on a Monday morning.
“So, you heard about the loracus craze, huh?”
“Yep.”
Hesabel thought she could make some cash off it, but she was flat broke.
“So, you took out a loan.”
“A loan? From Yukhar?”
“Yup. And he wanted collateral…”
With her vague status, only someone like Yukhar, a big cheese in the shadows, would front her some dough, and yup, he needed collateral. Maybe the collateral was the real prize.
As the heir to the Gullmar ducal house, Hesabel had plenty of bling she could put up as collateral.
Isaac just stared at her like she grew a second head.
“Did you seriously pawn off another relic as collateral?”
“Uh, yeah. And with that cash, I bought loracus coins.”
Hesabel was biting her lip like it was her new favorite snack.
“That’s just nuts.”
“Trading in stinky old loracus seemed less smart than loracus coins, right? Plus, cash was so yesterday. Loracus coins were supposed to be the future. At first, they even paid dividends! But then…”
The mess started when the coin dividends got delayed. Yukhar said as loracus prices went up, so did the coin values. He suggested she cash out to make a buck. Hesabel believed him and dove in for more coins.
By the time she saw the light, she was down to a third of what she got for the relic.
Greed wasn’t just messing with the gullible farmers and traders but even with the duchess-to-be of the Walaika Kingdom.
‘How could you be so gullible? Did you drink the loracus wine too?’
Isaac almost blurted it out but held back.
“Why not just off Yukhar and take the cash?”
“I can’t. Then I’m toast for getting back the relic.”
Hesabel grumbled, stabbing the ground with her spear.
“And, if you blab your trap, the loracus price will tank. I’m stuck with my coins at 4.2 gold each. If the loracus goes up, I can clear my tab and snag the relic back. I’ll stop you, come hell or high water!”
The cry of a trapped high-rise resident on the 42nd floor echoed valiantly through the sewers.
