“Where was this rubbing taken from?” Elias asked, feigning casual interest as he suppressed the shock in his eyes.
He did not pull out his elemental revolver to compare them.
Aside from the fact that the gun was still hidden in the trickster pocket dimension of 【Trickster's Fingertips】, revealing a supernatural item to a client he had only just met would be the height of foolishness—practically giving away his secrets wholesale.
“A nameless ruin on the west side of the Moonshadow Woodland,” Moreau said, his voice dropping slightly as he looked at the owl-head pattern on the rubbing. “My mentor believed it predates the history of the Republic of Arnova.”
“The expedition team couldn't venture deep into the ruins; they only made simple records of the outer perimeter.”
“Before the notebook was stolen, who else saw this drawing?”
Moreau hesitated for a moment.
“An engraver responsible for copying it. I needed to remake the printing plates for a few aging rubbings, so I handed a portion of them over to him. Horne followed his trail all the way to 19 Red Post Street.”
At this point, Moreau's expression became somewhat strained.
“And then, he ran into that vampire.”
“There's also this.”
The night-shift scribe pulled a folded briefing sheet from the recently canceled commission file and handed it to Elias.
When investigators of the Society of Freemen withdrew midway through a commission, they were required to leave behind any valid clues they had already gathered. Otherwise, successors would not only easily repeat the same futile steps but might also fall into the very same trap.
Elias unfolded the briefing.
The handwriting on it was rushed and heavy, with several inkblots nearly piercing through the paper.
The one who had initially stolen the notebook was indeed that engraver.
By the time Horne followed the transaction trail left behind to Red Post Street, the engraver was already gone.
A member of the Kindred had just snatched the complete notebook from his hands and was temporarily staying in the abandoned print shop.
As for the note “waiting for a pickup,” it was Horne's deduction based on two blood bags prepared at the scene, unopened luggage, and a half-burned train ticket.
In other words, the vampire might not be acting alone.
Elias's brow twitched.
Damn it. This money is really hard to earn!
Originally, he only had to face a single vampire of at least Scale Three.
Now, how wonderful.
The one thousand eight hundred gold crowns had thoughtfully come with a bonus backup opponent, the exact number and strength of which would only be revealed upon arrival like a lottery.
No wonder Horne had only mentioned running into a vampire earlier, without mentioning that the other party was still waiting for someone.
That professional probably hadn't forgotten. He had simply been beaten so badly that he temporarily didn't want to recall the details of his work.
Nevertheless, the chain of clues was finally straightened out.
The Kindred was not the original thief, but they were currently the most likely to hold the notebook.
Elias folded the briefing, placed it back on the table, and flipped the rubbing over in his hand.
There was another line of fragmented writing on the back of the paper.
“When the beasts do not return to their places, the earth will not answer.”
His gaze paused for a brief moment.
He had already heard the second half of this riddle yesterday.
Twelve tolls complete, the homeless shall see the path.
Back then, it was precisely this phrase that had pulled him back to the secondhand bookstore and brought him into contact with Moreau.
Now, the corresponding first half had appeared on the rubbing of a ruin bearing the owl-head pattern.
The Twelve Beasts.
The Twelve Earth Veins.
The Owl-Head Ruins.
And the elemental revolver.
Several originally scattered clues seemed to collide before him, yet they remained separated by an impenetrable mist.
Elias did not show that he knew the latter half of the phrase. He merely tapped the line of text gently with his fingertip.
“What does this line mean?”
“I don't know,” Moreau shook his head. “My mentor left no explanation.”
Elias looked at him.
【Gauging Expressions】 did not capture any obvious signs of lying.
At least Moreau truly did not know what this phrase pointed to.
As for whether he was still hiding other rubbings, that was a different matter entirely.
“Alright.” Elias pushed the rubbing back to him. “Now we have a target and an address. The remaining question is how to keep myself from becoming a vampire's midnight snack.”
He did not rush to Red Post Street immediately.
Horne was also a Scale Three and carried more than one spell scroll. Yet, in less than half an hour, he had fled back to the Society of Freemen covered in blood.
If Elias walked through that door empty-handed, it wouldn't be brave. It would be actively delivering a self-knocking midnight snack to the esteemed vampire.
The supply counter of the Society of Freemen was still open.
Elias first bought three slender pure silver nails, a roll of pure silver wire, and two sharpened hardwood stakes.
The silver nails could seal narrow exits, while the pure silver wire could be used to set up alarms or restrict the Kindred's movements in close combat.
As for the hardwood stakes, whether they would actually be useful or not, holding them at least fit the traditional aesthetic of fighting vampires.
Then, he bought some blood-stopping powder.
Naturally, it wasn't to stop his own bleeding. It was to stop the vampire's bleeding.
“What about pure silver bullets?” the clerk behind the counter asked.
“I have them,” Elias said, patting the inside of his trench coat.
He still had some enchanted pure silver bullets left.
Besides, the radiance bullets in his elemental revolver would be far more unreasonable against shadow creatures than mere pure silver.
After making his purchases, he didn't leave immediately. Instead, he returned to the night-shift scribe.
“I'd like to rent a delayed-dispatch letterbox.”
“Three gold crowns.”
“Is this box made of pure silver?”
“No,” the scribe replied without looking up. “But it will continue to function after you die.”
Elias paid the money through gritted teeth and wrote three identical letters.
19 Red Post Street. Commission 793. A member of the Kindred of at least Scale Three, possibly with backup waiting.
He dropped two of the letters into the delivery slots for the Dawn Church and the Seventh Agency, respectively, leaving the third as a backup record with the Society of Freemen.
He turned the brass pointer of the letterbox to 2:00 AM.
As long as he returned before the time limit, he could cancel the dispatch using his commission badge. If he didn't make it back, all three letters would leave this place simultaneously.
“You think you might not make it back?” the night-shift scribe finally looked up.
“Not really,” Elias snapped the letterbox shut. “It's just a strategic deterrent. When I see that vampire, I'll let it know in advance. I just want it to understand that if I don't go back, it's going to be very busy next.”
The night-shift scribe opened his mouth.
By the time he figured out how to evaluate this Mr. Constantine, only three gold crowns and a ticking letterbox remained at the counter.
...
Later that night, 19 Red Post Street.
This place was far from the harbor that still operated through the night. Most of the gas lamps along the road were broken, and the remaining ones only cast a faint circle of yellow mist.
The abandoned print shop was sandwiched between two old buildings, with only half the characters remaining on its sign.
Elias did not approach the front door directly.
He first activated 【Moon Vision】 and walked a circle around the entire building.
There were no figures behind the broken windows, and a thin layer of dust covered the floor.
But as his vision extended further downward, a deliberately suppressed, dark-red spirituality was slowly flowing in the basement, contracting from time to time like a heartbeat of blood.
The target was still there.
At least, judging by the spiritual reaction, it was still in the basement.
Near the door lay the bloodstains Horne had left behind, and the walls bore scorch marks from spells that had grazed them.
Elias also checked the back door and the underground drainage outlet.
There were no fresh traces of departure nearby, and the dark red spirituality remained uninterrupted.
This member of the Kindred had not fled.
However, there were no signs of long-term habitation inside; the opponent clearly didn't treat this abandoned print shop as a home. It was more like the pickup time was drawing near, and they were unwilling to abandon the agreed-upon location at the final hour.
Elias retreated into the shadows across the street, calculating where he should enter.
The front door was too obvious. Breaking a window would make noise. The underground drainage outlet was indeed concealed, but its size was somewhat disrespectful to an adult's dignity.
Just as he was about to check the roof, the footsteps of two people suddenly echoed from behind him.
“Hey!”
“Sir!”
Elias froze.
Two patrolling officers were walking over from the street corner, one of them already gripping the truncheon at his waist.
“What are you doing here?”
Dammit.
The old officers from Old Palace Yard chose the worst possible time to demonstrate their work ethic, showing up right when he was preparing to slip into a vampire's den.
Elias could certainly just leave. The problem was that if he dared to run, these two dutiful officers would blow their whistles the very next second, calling in colleagues from half the street to give chase.
By then, even if the vampire in the basement were dead, it would be woken up by the racket.
He could only turn around slowly, forcing a bright, almost innocent smile, and deliberately lowered his voice.
“Oh! Officers! Don't be alarmed! I'm leaving right away! I didn't realize this shop had already closed! What a shame! I used to come here when I was young!”
Rate on N.U.
