Chapter 222

  Unmistakable Enemy

  A few hours ago, at a tavern in the suburbs of Grottenstadt.

  After parting with Connie and Illumca at the Temple, the rest of the party led the ten men that went with them to look for a place where they could rest.

  Thankfully, it was not the season for pilgrimage and they were able to rent the rooms needed without trouble. To their bad luck, the cook of the inn had fallen sick, rendering them unable to have their meal.

  The innkeeper too was of no help. He said that he was a Cairulan man who had only just taken over the inn to help his father-in-law who had also fallen ill.

  Deciding that it’s easier to split up and have lunch in whatever tavern they find, Nick ordered the Grey Ghosts to disperse.

  After a brief walk, Nick spotted a tavern with a large entryway. The scent of meat stew and grilled meat inviting them in.

  Inside the tavern, there were some men gorging on bread and stew and two Beastfolks who mostly kept to themselves. Martell spotted Zeke, Locke, and another member of the Grey Ghost, who immediately stood up and saluted. Nick waved them down. “Don’t mind us. It’s free time,” Only then did they return to their seats.

  The owner, a bulky man wearing heavily stained apron and a combed-over hair, welcomed them. Although he did take a few sideways glances at Akula and Lihua.

  “Bread, stew, and ale for five,” Nick said as he took his seat.

  “But there are only three of you.”

  “Oh, we are hearty eaters. Here are your coins, and something extra for your troubles.”

  After feeling the heft of the coins in his hands. “Finest stew in Grottenstadt coming up! I’ll put some extra drippings on the bread.”

  Without a chair capable of holding her weight in the tavern, Akula had to use a thick cloth as a barrier between her lower body and whatever ancient food and bodily fluid had been left on the floor.

  While they were tucking into their meal, a group of seven men in expensive clothes came in. Its leader, a large man with a puffed-out chest. His gait was uneven and his cheeks were already red. A sign of him having already availed himself of some alcohol beforehand.

  “Captain Morris, welcome, welcome!” The tavern owner scurried to serve the man.

  “The usual,” the man belched loudly. “Get me and my men some ale! My treat!”

  “How uncouth,” Lihua said with a disapproving click of the tongue. “Martell, if you ever belched like that in public, this one will strangle you to death with this one’s own hands.”

  “U-understood, Madame.”

  Nick, raised his gaze to take a look at the newcomer curiously when he quickly ducked out of sight. “Urgh, Morris.”

  “Who’s that?” Akula asked.

  “Someone I knew back when I was at the border. A shithead with his head far up his own ass. He’s a Church Knight now, by the looks of his robe. Must be the doing of his uncle. He always boasted that he had one with a high position in the Church.”

  “Blood cannot account for manners, this one supposes,” Lihua commented.

  “Huh?” the boastful man suddenly threw their table a look. “Nick!! Is that you?!”

  “Look away, look away!” Nick quickly said under his breath, while trying futilely to cover his face with his mug.

  “Haha!! I couldn’t mistake that foul old face anywhere!” the man named Morris slapped Nick’s back with enough force to make the latter almost spill his drink.

  “Hello…Morris,” Nick said half-heartedly. Silently cursing his luck.

  “You know, this bastard got himself kicked out from the army because he defied order one too many times. Punched his own superior and made him loose three of his teeth,” he said to the men who came in with him.

  “Haven’t seen you since the border! What are you up to these days? I’ve been doing great myself. Got me a cushy job as a Captain of the Church Knights. Directly under my uncle, an Archdeacon of the Faith. Beats getting our heads kicked in at the border, eh?”

  “Good for you, Morris. Though, I didn’t peg you as a religious man.”

  “Well, long as it got me enough coin for ale and wench, I’ll worship anything!” The man slapped his back again while laughing boisterously, causing Nick to flinch and spill his ale all over the table.

  The scruffy middle-aged man flicked away the ale that had spilled onto his hands and said. “Look, Morris. It’s good to see you and all, but it has been a long ride from Cairula and me and my friends here, we are tired. Can you leave us alone for now?”

  “Friends?” Morris looked at Akula and her veiled face, then at Martell with his blank, but increasingly annoyed face, and finally at Lihua, who was thinking of ways to kill the rude man.

  “I didn’t think you can be friends with these…animals. You’ve fallen so low, Nick.”

  Martell heard a noise came from where the three Grey Ghost were sitting. They had stood up when Martell signalled for them to stay where they were.

  “They’re not animals. They are my friends,” Nick said with a growl. “Go away Morris. You’re drunk.”

  “Let me have a look at you - “ Morris reached out to touch Lihua’s face when the female Centaur slammed her hand onto the table, almost cracking it, and spoke with a chilly tone. “If you dare touch her with that filthy hand of yours, I’ll cut it off and make you eat it.”

  “How dare you speak that way to me you lowly whore!!”

  Before he even managed to make a move, Nick had caught his wrist and launched a punch that sent the boastful man onto the ground.

  “Augh!!” the man touched his bloodied nose, saw the color red stuck on his fingers and shouted. “You’ll pay for this!!”

  “You think you’ll go away unscathed trying this on our turf?!” one of the men ran in to fight Nick. But Zeke had yanked him back by the collar, turned him around so that they were face to face, and slammed his forehead onto the man’s face, instantly incapacitating him.

  “You can curse the Captain all you want, but no one’s making fun of the Instructor! That ain’t gonna fly, brother,” Zeke said. Locke had grabbed a nearby chair and flung it towards another man before throwing a punch to his gut and landed another to his jaw, downing him.

  While all these were happening, the tavern owner had hidden himself behind the table. Despite being a man ignorant to the matters of battles, he had enough experience with these types of men to know that he could not stop them in any way or form.

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  Enraged by the man’s insult, Akula was eager to defend her honor when Martell stopped her.

  “Hang back, please. Zalkhin Altanghazar! This is between the Grey Ghosts and them!” Martell shouted.

  “Why? That bastard insulted me!”

  “Because,” the small boy glanced at Nick, who had just said hello to the other side with a furious kick to the stomach. “This keeps things between the Grey Ghosts and the Church Knights. Makes it easier to handle the aftermath.”

  “The boy is correct. The first punch had already landed,” Lihua smoothly glided one step to the left as a Church Knight slammed into the wall behind the spot where she was standing before. “Just don’t kill them!” the Madame said, as Nick dodged a punch, grabbed the attacker’s arm and kneed his stomach, making him spew his guts.

  “Not promising anything!”

  “…and that was the story.”

  Nick finished with a grin as he sat behind bars along with the three unfortunate Grey Ghosts that was in the tavern. Once they received the news, Connie and Illumca, accompanied by Lieutnant Millicent and Matilda went to the place where her people were kept.

  “That’s it, is it? Anything to add?” Connie asked the rest of her companions, legs tapping the cold stone floor and arms folded tightly. “No? Alright. Fine. So why are only the four of you are in jail?”

  “We didn’t take part in the fight,” Martell said proudly. “And I stopped Zalkhin Altanghazar from joining in.”

  “I’d have made short work of those men,” Akula grumbled.

  “No doubt, but then there’ll not be anything left of them,” Illumca sighed.

  “Indeed,” Connie sighed. “So, good work keeping your head cool, Akula. And Martell? Your quick thinking saved us a lot of trouble. Lihua had done a fantastic job teaching you.”

  “Of course!”

  “And now…where’s the man named Morris? The one who started this whole thing?”

  “He’s already out,” Akula said with a snort.

  “Oh?” Connie turned to the lone jailer who had the misfortune to be there with them. “Tell me, how did that happen?”

  “H-he’s been bailed. You might not know this, Duchess. But that man’s the nephew of Archdeacon Lowen. I - I’m just following orders.”

  He was just a man working a job for an honest day’s work. But he had no power. Not when the other side was someone with status.

  “Oh? You heard what he said, Lieutenant Millicent. My companions had been insulted, my people had been hurt, and yet the perpetrator and his cronies are free to go,” Connie commented, as she slowly clapped her hands, the sarcastic undertone not missed by the Lieutenant. “Such a wonderful show of the power of the Church.”

  Millicent could not refute her words, shaking her head in disappointment. “My apologies. We will make it up to you.”

  “Apology is worth nothing if it did not come from the perpetrator,” Connie sat back, leaning onto the back of the chair he was sitting on. “I demand a public apology from the bastard who besmirched my companions’ honor. And compensate for my men’s wounds.”

  “We are not – “ Locke was about to say, before Zeke groaned in pain. “Wounds! Ach…! The pain…!”

  "See?" Connie said.

  “I’ll…see what I can do,” the prim young Lieutenant excused herself with a silent anger towards Morris.

  “And as for you lot,” Connie directed her gaze at the men behind the bars. “You all did splendidly. If you did not make short work of them, I’d have punished you myself. For now, spend the night here. I’ll send some dinner over and some blankets.”

  “Er, Duchess, that’s against protocol...”

  “Lihua,” Connie snapped her fingers and Lihua placed a two gold coins onto the man’s hand. “Come, there is nothing wrong about turning your head another way for just a night. For the night is cold and these men are hungry. Are you married?”

  “Y-yes.”

  “Any plans for babies?”

  “I’ve got one coming in two months.”

  “There are two gold Coins here. Imagine what you can buy with them. New clothes, warm food, and perhaps, some nice gifts for yourself.”

  The hypnotic, sultry voice of the raven-haired woman lulled the man into receiving the coins.

  “R-right. Thank you, Duchess.”

  Morning came as usual in Grottenstadt. The clerics woke up early for their morning prayers before having their breakfast.

  a man in Archdeacon robe was walking down the hallway. His looks were sullen, with a liver marked face. A white beard tied to a braid adorned his chin. His thin, aging body caused him to hunch slightly. Walking behind him was a short, chubby man with a proportion that was almost comical. And his eyes looked as if they were about to pop out of their sockets.

  A number of children were running on the hallway stopped upon seeing the two of them and bowed in respect. The Archdeacon and his adjutant spared them not a glance. But then, the grey-haired man cringed his nose and paused his steps upon noticing a pair of furry ears on one of the children. The trademark sign of a Beastfolk.

  “What is your name, child?”

  “Me, Archdeacon Lowen, sir?”

  “Yes, you.”

  “I – It’s Owen, Archdeacon Lowen.”

  “Turn around and show me your back.”

  When he did so, the man’s brows narrowed. “Is that a hole I see on your robe, child?”

  “Y-yes, Archdeacon. I – I made it because my tail’d chafe if it isn’t covered by the robe. I asked Deacon Brandt and he said that it was fine.”

  “Is Deacon Brandt the one writing the rulebook?! Go to the Punishment Room and pray there until study time tomorrow morning. And you are to clean the dorm toilet for a month. By yourself.”

  The child, suddenly barraged by such heavy punishment could only whimper and look down. “B-but – “

  “Are you questioning me, child?” the elderly man said with a hateful glare. “And fix that robe.”

  With a scornful frown, the Archdeacon continued his walk. Behind him, the other children comforted the Beastfolk boy.

  “Filthy beasts,” the man said. “The Maiden of Water must be mad to allow such filth to run around this sacred Temple.”

  “I agree, Your Venerable,” the adjutant, walking just two steps behind him, nodded vigorously.

  “Indeed. Tell me. What has become of our persuasion to the other two Archdeacons?”

  “We have received a confirmation from Archdeacon Solas, but Archdeacon Rickard have not given us an answer yet.”

  “If only that fool Babblebrook was not an the Maiden’s side…” the man grumbled. “What else needs to come to my attention?”

  “There is one…regarding the case of your nephew last night.”

  “I’ve heard. That boy got into another trouble, did he? Didn’t you take care of it as usual? I said only to tell me things that matter, Orlo.”

  “Well, um this time…Morris involved Duchess Steelheart’s people, Your Venerable.”

  “What?! Repeat that again!”

  “The men that they fought last evening turned out to be the Duchess’s men. She, um…demanded an apology from Morris and everyone involved. Lieutenant Millicent had said that the Maiden wanted us to treat this carefully. She also intended to investigate the misuse of power that led to the men’s early release.”

  “That stupid little shit. Already that old and still needs me to clean up his messes,” Lowen sighed with disappointment. “Take care of the compensation, add some extra. As for the apology, forget about it. I will not have anyone under the Goddess’s grace apologize to mere…beasts.”

  “So…” Connie glanced at the thick envelope with the Church’s seal placed on the table before eyeing the unpleasant looking man in front of him. “What’s this?”

  “We…find that this compensation should be enough,” Orlo said, dabbing his sweat with a handkerchief.

  “Is this the Church’s answer? Or your Master’s answer?” Connie replied. With the info gathered by the Silence, she knew that the one behind Morris was Archdeacon Lowen. The one who advocated for the discrimination of Beastfolks. And Orlo was his underling.

  “It’s…er…”

  “Your hesitance is answer enough,” Connie stood up and walked to the window, admiring the streets outside. “I wanted to keep this civil because I considered my relationship with the Maiden of Water. But seeing that the Church did not consider my sincerity, I am going to formally complain to the Maiden of Water regarding this matter, in my position as the Duchess of Arlaine.”

  “Duchess! Surely, we can talk this over. Do you need more gold? We can offer more!”

  “You think I lack gold, Deacon Orlo? Your men have disrespected my companions, and respect, that’s something that cannot be bought with gold.”

  “When someone does something wrong, that someone should apologize, don’t you agree?” Connie spoke, her tone playful, yet Orlo felt the edge hidden within. “And it should come from the heart. Like proper human. Isn’t that what your Master taught you?”

  Connie raised her hand and suddenly the chair that he was on floated onto the air. Orlo screamed in fear as he grabbed onto the chair for dear life.

  The Church Knights that were with him were halfway from drawing their swords, but a voice came from behind them, stopping them from doing so.

  “The moment you draw those swords; those hands will come off.”

  Connie put down his hand and the chair feel, with Orlo bouncing once, flabbergasted by what she just did. His face was white with fear.

  “I apologize, sometimes when I see people like you I just can’t control myself. Now, run along and tell your Master. I’ll see him soon.”

  “I – I…will excuse myself.”

  Just as the chubby man reached the door, something went past his cheek and stabbed the wall next to him. In the process, cutting a few strands of hair from his head. It was the envelope with money.

  Once he realized what just happened, the man fell backward onto his butt, a pathetic whimper escaped from his mouth.

  “You forgot your money."

  After the unpleasant meeting, Connie went out of the room where she saw Elfriede enjoying a glass of wine with her companions.

  “Saw the Church’s men running away just now. Seems the meeting went awry?”

  “Just a bit of diplomacy. You don’t have to worry.”

  Currently, Connie and her party members were staying in Elfriede’s house. Or, to be exact, her grandmother’s. A kindly old woman with a penchant for cooking.

  After sending her demands last evening, Connie felt it would be inappropriate to stay at the place provided by the Church and was about to look around, when she chanced upon the Archmage. After listening to her story, the Archmage quickly offered for them to stay at her house.

  “You know, Connie. Is this really worth it? I don’t want to trouble you. I can handle it myself,” Akula said.

  “Forgive me for saying tihs, Akula. But you have not an ounce of diplomacy in you,” Illumca said. “Better let Connie handle it.”

  “That’s right. Any insult against you all is an insult against me," Connie took the glass of wine in Akula's hand and drank it in one go. "And I intend to make that bastard know who the hell he is dealing with.”