Round 18: Invitation

The group walked through the long alleyways of Port Street. At the front were Forty-Seven and Freys, with Morriel and Chloé following behind. At the back were two strong bodyguards, with Simon trapped in between, looking dejected.
That fat guy actually knew the Iron Plague God, and seemed quite familiar with him—this was bad. Simon didn’t dare risk getting beaten up by Forty-Seven and try to run away.
The further they went from the docks, the more guards equipped with leather armor and clubs or short swords appeared. By the time they reached the spacious gates at the southwest high walls of Deepflow City, rude sailors and adventurers wielding swords were rare.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Freys,” said the guard captain patrolling at the gate, raising his hand in a friendly greeting. “What brings you to the docks today? Are these your friends?”
His gaze stopped when it fell on Morriel’s face.
“Are you a Red Robe Mage?” he asked uncertainly.
“A former Red Robe Mage,” Morriel replied. He had long sensed that the people of Deepflow City seemed wary of his identity. That wasn’t good, especially in a city with such vibrant trade. Though Red Robe Mages were known for being cold and terrifying everywhere, they were usually trustworthy magic merchants—provided you had money and something they wanted. At least in public, Red Robe Mages dealt fairly.
“Hmm…” The guard captain hesitated. By experience, he could tell that the people following Freys were definitely not easy to deal with, especially that tall warrior. Deepflow City was always full of surprises, and its residents believed nothing existed in the world they hadn’t seen. But this warrior could surely challenge that belief. Look at those demonic red eyes, and his face… Was he made entirely of steel?
“Hey, don’t be so tense, my friend. What does it matter if I’m a Red Robe Mage? My friends aren’t criminals!” Freys quickly provided the guard captain with an out. “Isn’t Deepflow City a neutral, free city?”
After entering the city gates, they were greeted by streets and buildings far more grand than those in the port area. The rows of shops and pavilions were a stark contrast to the crude style of the port district. They stood on a gently sloping rocky hill, rising from north to south, forming a vast complex of buildings. Further north, there were numerous tall spires and castles and palaces built atop Deepflow City’s peaks. The urban area hidden behind those tall structures was likely even larger.
Forty-Seven watched the people walking by and the shops doing all sorts of trades along the streets. He suddenly felt a pleasant sense of joy. It was even stronger than when he first entered Rain City. It was like being an observer from outside, calm and composed, just like in cartoons. If cold, emotionless destruction was Forty-Seven’s job, then strolling around and watching the action was also one of his unique “flaws.”

“My house is right ahead. Turn down this street and go a little further, and you’ll be there,” said Freys, who seemed to have considerable influence in the area—people kept greeting him, including the guards patrolling the street. As he walked, he kept talking nonstop: “Later on, the two beautiful ladies can go out and browse. To put it mildly, in Deepflow City’s commercial district, there’s nothing you can’t find—just about everything. Look, over there are all sorts of adventurer shops: weapons, armor, potions—everything you need. Many adventurers bring their loot here to sell it. Don’t believe the nonsense from those street vendors in the dock area; it’s all junk meant to trick inexperienced newcomers. Here, all the shops are legitimate and honest. For truly rare items, the Merchant Alliance even has specialized appraisers to evaluate them…”
Given his enthusiasm, it seemed like he owned every shop in the entire commercial district.
Moriel had originally wanted to ask what special things had happened in Deepflow City regarding the Red Robe Mage, but honestly, it was hard for anyone to interrupt Freys’ endless chatter—even just thinking differently from him was difficult.
Never mind. I have nothing to do with the Red Robe Mage anymore, Moriel told herself.
She didn’t want to dwell on her dark past and let resentment consume her. Though memories might stay with her forever, just like the tattoos on her face, as a mage skilled in prophecy, Moriel had come to realize that some things in life might never change. Facing the wheels of fate, choosing to confront it or avoid it often made no difference—the outcome was usually something one had to accept.
Yes, accept it.
Just like how she now had to accept the situation where that idiot, 47, had broken a long sword on display in a weapons shop with a single finger, only to get stuck dealing with the shop owner.
Freys paid before Moriel could, so as to prevent her from getting hurt because of 47, who had just walked away without caring.
This little incident made Freys more cautious as well. He remembered that his “steel friend” was always a very dangerous and unpredictable factor—almost like having an entire squad of Frost Giants walking down the street. It was better to go eat first.
Freys’ house was located near the center of the commercial district, actually a magnificent three-story building that rivaled several guild headquarters in the area. There was even a small square in front with a fountain—such an environment would make most merchants envious.
“This is it. Please—” Freys greeted 47, Moriel, and Chloe, then glared sharply at Simon behind them: “You damned liar! If it weren’t for your despicable actions back then, I would already own property in the Coastal District! Do you know how much land prices have risen in these years?”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Freys,” a cold voice came from not far away, devoid of any hint of greeting.

Behind the statue by the pool, a female warrior emerged—she must have been sitting there earlier. Her silver-white half-plate armor shone brightly in the sunlight, and her golden hair seemed to glow as if light flowed through it. With her back to the sun, her face was not clearly visible, but the decorations on the hilts of the swords at her back gleamed sharply. At first glance, it seemed as though she were bathed in dazzling light, exuding pride and nobility.

Chloe gave a soft whistle.

“Wow, she’s like someone carved from the same mold,” Fourty-Seven muttered absentmindedly.

Fres turned serious as he watched the female warrior approach them and gave her a slight bow. “Hello, Knight Fiona.”

The fact that Fres would address her with such respect suggested that this knight named Fiona, who appeared to be in her early twenties, must be quite significant.

“Mr. Fres, as a merchant with a good reputation in Deepstream City, I assume you’re aware of your responsibilities.” Fiona’s gem-like blue eyes swept over everyone’s faces before stopping on Moriel’s. “So, I was truly surprised to learn that you went to the docks to meet an evil Red Robe Mage.”

“Didn’t your mother teach you to make eye contact when talking to others?” Moriel retorted coldly. Since Fiona showed no hesitation in her hostile gaze, she wasn’t willing to back down either.

“Oh, I think you’ve misunderstood, Knight Fiona,” Fres interjected to defuse the situation. “They’re old friends I happened to meet at the docks. Oh, the one with the mustache is a despicable scoundrel who cheated me out of a lot of money. I’ve caught him now… See, they just arrived in Deepstream City—how could they possibly be related to a Red Robe Mage?”

Fiona seemed unfazed by Fres’s excuses. “Tell me your name, Red Robe Mage. Your actions must be exposed in the light of day, just like the tattoos on your face, so that good people can sleep in peace!”

“Hey, girl. I don’t know what grudge you have with some Red Robe Mage, but…” Chloe tried to say something, but Fourty-Seven suddenly interrupted her with words that made Fiona’s face turn pale.

“If fools and obsessives also have a god, it must be a Holy Warrior.”

Fiona immediately turned her gaze to Fourty-Seven, her beautiful face turning icy. “What did you say?”

“What did I say? I didn’t say anything.” Fourty-Seven’s reaction surprised everyone. He even stepped back in the face of Fiona’s aggression. “What are you doing? Would a Holy Warrior openly attack an unarmed person?”

Unarmed? Moriel couldn’t believe her ears.

“Alright, alright,” Fres stepped between Fourty-Seven and Fiona. He had no idea how long Fourty-Seven’s rare good mood—rarer even than an oasis in the desert—would last. “Miss Fiona, my friends have just disembarked. Let’s talk about this another time!”

People nearby had noticed the argument and began to gather.

Faced with Fres’s attempt to send her away, Fiona finally chose to leave.

“I remember you, Red Robe Mage. Be careful with your words and actions—this is the City of Glory. The Lord of Glory will not tolerate evil.”
The lunch was sumptuous, with delicious fish, shellfish, and other tender seafood that made one’s mouth water at just the sight.
“Ugh, such stubbornness!” Freys swallowed a large piece of clams. “Those Holy Warriors keep repeating ‘uphold justice, fight evil’ over and over—how do they know what others are going through?”
Chloe gently swirled her wine glass, a faint smile on her face. “What’s the matter, Mr. Merchant? Although relations between Holy Warriors and Red Robe Mages are tense everywhere, it doesn’t have to be this extreme, right?”
“Summoning demons for bloody experiments, hiring bandits to attack uncooperative caravans…” Moriel, who had seemed indifferent, suddenly spoke up. “It’s nothing more than that. I’m not surprised.”
Freys chuckled dryly. “Heh… it’s not that serious. But the Dawnlight Knights of the Temple of Glory believe that Red Robe Mages are selling large quantities of magically made drugs in Deepstream City. So they’re taking action to cut off the underground drug network controlled by the Red Robe Mages, causing quite a stir in the city—several small-scale conflicts have already broken out, it seems.”
“Drugs?” Moriel raised her eyebrows. “Mr. Merchant, drugs aren’t something ‘not that serious’… Now I somewhat understand that Holy Warrior girl’s attitude.”
“Exactly,” Freys complained. “But what can we do? Deepstream City is never short of people seeking thrills. For so-called pleasure, they’d even risk putting their heads in pools full of shark-men!”
“As long as there are buyers, drugs will never disappear from Deepstream City. A dockworker will spend his entire day’s earnings just to get a little devil’s grass to smoke. But even if he can’t get drugs, he’ll still spend that money on cheap liquor and vulgar prostitutes instead of supporting his family.” Freys cut a piece of ham hard, placed it between two slices of bread, and spread butter on it. When everyone else was almost full, he began eating his main meal. “Miss Moriel, I hate drugs and would never get involved in such a filthy business. But I must admit that drugs can spread in Deepstream City precisely because of the city itself, because its residents have a demand for them—not because of the Red Robe Mages. Even if the Holy Warriors really manage to drive the Red Robe Mages away, another organization will surely take over and continue the drug trade. I’m convinced of that. Besides, the Red Robe Mages are also businessmen… If those madmen from the Shirek Church took over, who knows what kind of trouble might arise?”
Freys took a fierce bite as if he had a deep grudge against sandwiches, and even 47, who had been playing with his knife, looked up upon hearing him mention the Shirek Church.
“Do the Dark Sun worshippers also want to get involved in the drug trade?” Moriel asked.

“Yes, between us, I suspect it was these guys who messed things up and gave the Dawn Knight Order an opportunity to strike.” Freys snorted. “I’d rather deal with demons in hell than deal with the Hyrick believers. But they have great influence in Deepflow City’s underground society, and it’s said that some nobles and rich people are also quite addicted to their corrupt deeds… I think that’s probably what the Red Robe Mage is after.”
Morril fell into thought. The reason she chose to land in Deepflow City was that during her last attempt to use magic for prediction on the ship, thick mist had blocked all her attempts at detection, leaving no clues other than this northern port city—now it seemed there might indeed be something to find here… though it might get complicated.
“However, Miss Morril…” Freys said cautiously, “the Dawn Knight Order is after all one of the largest armed organizations in Deepflow City. As sacred knights of the Glorious Church, they are stronger than the regular troops defending the city and enjoy great prestige among the ordinary citizens… So it’s best to avoid conflict with them, especially those fanatical female paladins… Ah, right, Miss Milia should also be in Deepflow City now. Though we hardly ever see each other, if we could get her to intercede, things will surely be fine—Mr. Forty-Seven, you must also be looking forward to meeting Miss Milia, right? She mentioned you to me!”
“Miss Milia?” Morril glanced at Forty-Seven. “It seems like you haven’t told me many things.”
Forty-Seven shrugged. “There’s nothing much to say… Just trivial matters.”
Mann appeared at the door, seemingly with something to report.
Freys nodded at him, and the young servant quickly stepped in. “Someone has delivered a letter… for Miss Morril.”
Morril stood on the balcony on the third floor, watching Deepflow City, bathed in the golden light of the afternoon sun. Rows of houses stretched as far as the eye could see, with hundreds of thousands of residents living there, plus even more due to the constant flow of people. Their activities and strength together created the incredible prosperity of the Glorious City, yet they seemed insignificant like a drop in the ocean. Here, even the strongest outsider would feel isolated and powerless…
But Forty-Seven was definitely an exception. He stood beside Morril, looking at the letter. “Someone invited me at noon, and someone else at night—big cities really are different.”
The Red Robe Mage of Deepflow City would actually invite me, a deserter? Morril sneered silently. But she decided to go—this was for Kayro, she told herself.
The Red Robe Mage’s business establishment wasn’t hard to find. In any city with one, it wouldn’t be difficult to locate—a sturdy, enclosed building with narrow windows high up, fully armed tattooed guards. The Red Robe Mage’s store always resembled a fortress, out of place among its surroundings.

Yet the Red Robe Mage’s stronghold in Deep Current City was truly astonishing. It was practically a city within a city, occupying a large area in the commercial district, surrounded by stone walls. The sturdy main gate, though not closed, was guarded by two well-equipped sentinels who watched the incoming and outgoing guests with vigilant eyes. There were also guards on the rooftops of the tall buildings inside the walls, monitoring the streets outside the stronghold. In the distance, it was clear that others were watching them as well.

Perhaps due to this tense atmosphere, there seemed to be far fewer people passing by here than elsewhere.

Moriel and Forty-Seven headed straight for the main gate without any attempt to hide.

Although Moriel wasn’t wearing a red mage robe, the guards immediately grew respectful upon seeing the tattoo on her face, not even daring to look her in the eyes—within the Red Robe Mage’s stronghold, that was a symbol of status and rank.

There were many shops inside the stronghold, all with a similar architectural style—cold and oppressive, even in their decorations. Patrol teams of warriors moved about frequently, shuttling between the tall buildings, seemingly outnumbering the guests. Moriel headed straight for the main building without stopping, not because she was familiar with the place, but because that’s how Red Robe Mage strongholds were.

A Red Robe Mage was standing at the foot of the stairs, waiting for Moriel and Forty-Seven. His patterned bald head gleamed in the shadows.

He smiled and said, “Welcome home, Miss Moriel.”