Round 30: Infiltration

Bloodaxe’s camp was exactly as it had been when Si Forty-Seven and the others left, seemingly undisturbed by outsiders. In truth, no one believed the Warrior Guild could do much now, unless Bloodaxe returned.
Dressed in combat gear, Mary sat alone in the sturdy house that used to belong to Bloodaxe, feeling anxious.
Recent events had clearly gotten out of control. That female mage seemed to have new troubles, and by now, Lord Bloodaxe should have returned long ago. Yet there was no news, not even from other travelers returning from the swamp. Perhaps Lord Bloodaxe had been too reckless to follow rumors and search for some temple—though if he weren’t reckless, he wouldn’t be Bloodaxe.
“Miss Mary, are you ready to take over the Warrior Guild?” Moriel and Si Forty-Seven entered quietly, their faces covered by hoods. To be honest, the Warrior Guild’s defenses were rather chaotic; Moriel even doubted it would be necessary to use magic to infiltrate. Without Bloodaxe, the Warrior Guild was like a monster with its head cut off—still snarling, but no longer a threat.
“Reveal your faces, you unknown scumbags!” Mary jumped up from her chair, her whip lashing out like a venomous snake.
A few seconds later, the barbed whip wrapped around Si Forty-Seven’s arm, and a handleless dagger with a gleaming tip was firmly held just an inch from his eye. Meanwhile, Si Forty-Seven’s other hand tightly grasped Mary’s neck, pressing her down on the thick wooden table.
“Not bad skills. Luckily, my arms are made of iron.”
Mary didn’t struggle. The cold touch on her neck told her that he could break her neck like a dry branch with a single twist. She recognized this strange armored figure who had always coveted her beauty—she had always thought so, confident that her body was more attractive than a whip dagger. Though his face was almost unrecognizable, those two red dots still seemed to emit hellish coldness, piercing through her body.
“Moriel?” Mary glanced sideways at the thin man in black.
“A lady shouldn’t be so rude and impatient,” Moriel said, removing his hood. “If you can stay quiet, I think I can explain our situation in detail.”
Moriel spoke calmly, and Si Forty-Seven also made a shushing gesture.
“Bloodaxe is dead.”
These words made Mary tremble involuntarily as she lay on the table. The Warrior Guild’s world had collapsed—she felt dizzy.
Moriel calmly recounted the entire ordeal, most of which was true—except for the true intentions of Mishima and the others.
“Jason is actually a follower of Darkday Xeric? And that drunk old Billy… Mishima and Agus’s men have colluded and also want the Forging God Scroll that Lord Bloodaxe obtained?”
The series of shocks left Mary dizzy. She instinctively refused to believe it, but couldn’t think of any reason why Moriel would lie to her.
“That’s right. Now that scroll is being used on Si Forty-Seven. There, you can see it.”
“Then how dare you come back? Don’t you know that without Lord Bloodaxe, Rain City belongs to Mishima’s Merchant Guild?”

“Whose domain is Rain City? We’ll have to wait until he emerges from the swamp to find out…” Moriel smiled. “What about you, Miss Mary, and the Warriors’ Guild? What will happen without Bloodaxe? Perhaps you can continue to serve as an assistant to some simple-minded dwarf or orc, praying that he shares Bloodaxe’s lack of interest in women…”
Mary’s beautiful brown eyes fixed on Moriel, waiting for her to continue.
“Let’s make a deal,” Moriel said, clearing her throat. “I need to go to the Mishima Merchant Guild to retrieve what belongs to me… and maybe bring back a few small gifts. No one can walk away unscathed after plundering my home, but I really don’t want to waste time on those insignificant scumlings wandering the streets.”
Forty-Seven also turned his head to look at Moriel, realizing for the first time the deep-seated evil lurking within this female mage who often hit him on the head.
“…I hope you can incite those fools outside to clash with the people from the Mishima Merchant Guild—the more chaos, the better. I don’t think that’s too difficult, right?”
“That’s suicide! Without Bloodaxe’s leadership, the Warriors’ Guild is just a bunch of disorganized people. And you said Mishima might have the support of the Agus Empire! We’re doomed! Do you want us to die?!” Mary insisted.
“Die? Yes, exactly—death.” Moriel smiled. “But think about it: who will die? Those simple-minded dwarfs and crude, ignorant orcs—people you can’t subdue, right?”
“Even if the Mishima Merchant Guild seeks revenge later, you can shift the blame onto us. I’ll leave Rain City, taking with me the things that belonged to Mishima’s master. That way, Mishima won’t have time to focus on us anymore. Besides, Rain City is so far from Agus. Even if Mishima has Agus’s support, what can they do? They’ll be too busy flattering their master—will they have time to bother you? Do they even have the strength to conquer the Warriors’ Guild??”
Moriel suddenly bowed elegantly. “After tonight, the Warriors’ Guild will be reborn in blood, and you, Miss Mary, will become its queen!”
Or die. Forty-Seven silently conveyed that message to Mary with a slight emphasis.
“This place is finished.” As they left, Forty-Seven glanced back at Bloodaxe’s fortress. “Without Bloodaxe, they can no longer call themselves warriors—and now they’re about to destroy themselves in a pointless battle.”
“Hmph.” Moriel put on her hood, listening to the growing noise inside. “Power granted by others is still power, and arms that can’t be controlled aren’t really arms—that’s human nature. It’s not something you can understand by studying those stupid, ugly tricks.”
“Oh.” Forty-Seven followed Moriel deeper into the darkness, toward the Mishima Merchant Guild’s mansion.
I think I can understand it.

Soon, the unrest that started at Bloodaxe’s camp spread to most of Rain City. The enraged dwarves and orcs rushed out of the camp, shouting, and went after anyone with the Mishima Merchant Guild’s symbol. At first, the members of the Mishima Merchant Guild tried to ask questions or explain themselves, but soon they realized these guys wouldn’t listen or understand anything—
Yet Bloodaxe’s warriors were indeed the best in Rain City. Caught off guard, the Mishima Merchant Guild’s soldiers were beaten into disarray, many of their properties destroyed or burned. Even the thieves who had been loyal to Bloodaxe took the opportunity to profit from the chaos.
It wasn’t until the mad warriors began attacking the Mishima Merchant Guild’s headquarters that the situation turned.
The mages left behind were far inferior to those from Mishima, but they could easily cast spells of blindness, darkness, or illusion—spells specifically designed to deal with such simple-minded people.
Bloodshed filled the air, and the screams were deafening. Rain City hadn’t seen such a scene in ages.
Moriel and 47 climbed over the wall and slipped into Mishima’s mansion.
Mishima’s headquarters was far more elegant than Bloodaxe’s camp, though it might not be much more practical. 47 wore a long sword stolen from Bloodaxe’s house on his belt, while Moriel held her new staff—her old one had been left in the temple, so she had to make a new one. Fortunately, she still had a ruby stored with Kayro.
The two walked along the empty corridors, unguarded, as everyone else was busy dealing with the frenzied orcs outside.
Something seemed off—Moriel suddenly felt uneasy. Her instincts had always been accurate, both in the temple and even before that.
Perhaps she really should give up the spellbook and leave right away?
“Be quiet,” she snapped at 47 irritably, though he, being just a metal construct, already moved with surprising silence.
But fleeing silently in such a mess wasn’t my style. Moriel gripped her staff firmly, determined. They were almost at the entrance of the main house.
Suddenly, 47 pulled her aside, shielding her behind him, turned halfway, and raised his hand in front of him—sparks flew as a sword light like a meteor appeared out of thin air.
Moriel raised her hand and fired a magic missile.
The missile flew toward the courtyard with a long tail. Another burst of silver light erupted, seemingly blocked by something.
47 punched at the void ahead—
The sound of armor clashing came from midair, as if someone was leaping backward. Along with that sound, faint outlines of armor and cloaks appeared.
He landed on the ground, fully revealing his figure, along with three other silver-armored swordsmen who looked almost identical to him.
It was the darkest part of the night, so dark that even the silver armor didn’t reflect much light—clearly, someone had cast an invisibility spell on them, one even Moriel hadn’t noticed.

Forty-seven stood quietly, sensing the killing intent from the four silent silver-armored swordsmen in the courtyard—a solemn and intimidating killing intent. This was not something that could be achieved by killing a few goblins or even fighting against trolls; it required rigorous training, strict discipline, and the ability to advance without retreat even on a battlefield filled with countless soldiers.