It reminded him of how much he needed to pee. He never liked the festivals and all the hustle and bustle. He would have preferred to stay in his room, taking turns drinking wine until the bottle was half-empty, he recalled.
All he wanted was to forget his disappointment about the criminal who stole an ancient antique book. In fact, he would have gladly wagered on taking a nap until he returned to the Iron Plateau instead of going out into this noisy hubbub.
If it weren't for Grimbold, the little wolf who yawned and toyed with him until he was forced to leave his room-the room that was located in Stolp Tower, the place where every adventurer under contract with Azurea Academy gathered.
Arthur found himself parked at a small stall in the center of the square that was crowded with other stalls. Dolls were flying in the black sky under the crimson moonlight, but he didn't care. Perhaps because his culture, as one of the "iron and steel worshippers," made his mindset immune to such things. Not all cultists had the same approach, but he sometimes thought he was the only one with such an aberrant mindset
"I want the strongest drink you have.
" Arthur said, proudly addressing the student who played the juice vendor, as he tossed him a copper coin.
Arthur wasn't exactly sure what he was expecting. This was just an ordinary stall selling drinks to visitors as part of the festival atmosphere. Still, he expected a cup of heavy liquor to match his mood... What he got instead was a glass of fresh mint orange juice.
He didn't argue. It was his fault from the start, so he drank the juice in silence, enjoying the strong mint flavor that surprised him with its freshness. He ignored Grimbold annoying whining at his feet - the little wolf that seemed to be getting bigger at a strange speed.
"Damn... Growing so fast." Arthur muttered to himself as he eyed him uneasily. He couldn't remember when this change started, a week? Two weeks? He wasn't good at remembering small details. A day or two went by without him being fed properly.
He felt a twinge of annoyance; he had just promised himself that he would take care of him soon-before Grimbold starved to death.
He was lost in his thoughts when a few other adventurers joined the stall, exchanging laughter as they ordered juice, albeit with a different flavor. They seemed to be enjoying the festival atmosphere, unlike him
He didn't know why, but he decided to stay. Perhaps because their spontaneous way of interacting intrigued him... Or maybe because, in his own way, he was more sociable than he liked to admit.
Even though he had only been with them for a short time, Arthur was able to get caught up in their heated conversation-whether it was an exchange of harsh words or heavy, meaningless banter.
He recognized Kelder, whose mouth was split open by Gaul's attack, and who looked younger than he was despite Arthur's nose, as Kelder was the oldest of the group.
Then there was Ternog, who couldn't stop laughing at Kildare's or even Arthur's jokes, no matter how silly or cheap they were.
It didn't bother Arthur as much as he thought it would. He knows his potential, even when it comes to getting to know people, even if it's just for a day.
The two of them admired his little dog. The drunken Arthur, pretending that the juice had made him talkative, told them that his name was Grimbold - a name that was not meant for a wolf pup.
The name belonged to a man... an old dwarf who had taught him how to smelt and press iron to make money for himself and his sister. Arthur didn't love him, and he wasn't even asked to, but he respected him... the old man treated him with a kindness he had never experienced from anyone before. He looked at him in a way no one had ever looked at him before.
If he could have taken another day... the old man might still be here."Uh... I named this puppy after someone dear to me... Grimbold," Arthur told them, feigning drunkenness after ordering another glass of juice.
He found no shame in naming a female wolf after a dwarf, no, a man.
Arthur shrugged as he watched the children and villagers head toward the center of the square. His intuition didn't fail him, for soon afterward, Ternog shouted late, banging the table again and again, chanting excitedly, "The flame of destiny has ignited!
"The flame of destiny has ignited!"
What really bothered him wasn't the shouting, but the rude way he hit the table that wasn't even meant for that. But he didn't care. He didn't care at all.
A blue flame of fire was rising from the pillar in the center of the square. They say it brings luck to those who see it burning... but he didn't believe in those silly superstitions. If he had the opportunity to insult the Lunauans who worshipped this ritual, he would do it without hesitation, and probably spit in their faces as well.
He watched in fascination as Kelder and Ternog withdrew from the booth and made their way toward the crowd gathered around the torch. He didn't even care that they left him alone. He had to finish his last cup and do something more important - like pee.
He paid another three coins for four cups, explaining to the vendor in a sarcastic tone that he had become a regular customer. The clerk didn't argue with him, but secretly cursed him under his breath.
Arthur had always loved money... coins, in his own way. He was willing to make crazy deals if he wanted to, but he was also sensible enough to avoid trouble when necessary.
He left the festival without taking another look at the torch or the enthusiastic crowd. All the hustle and bustle sickened him. He preferred to head to another, quieter area within the academy.
As usual, Grimbold didn't leave him alone. The little wolf followed him as he always did.
At the nearest tree, Arthur urinated next to it, where a tall guard tower rose, fortifying the watchtower's two sentry shifts that surrounded the sides of the academy that ran along Strager's Hall of Mechanics and Inventions from the Iron Plateau City.
Arthur recalled that he had previously applied for the Strager Hall guard course, but had been turned down. He wasn't interested in such work; his constant laziness and aversion to routine made him hate to even think about it.
All he wanted now was to fall asleep... fall asleep and disappear. Still, he was curious enough to take a look inside the corridor, which looked suspicious enough to arouse suspicion.
Sneaking through a window without permission, he entered Strager Hall. Outside, Grimbold was nearby. He didn't want to go any deeper, but something inside him compelled him to continue. The hall was dark and completely devoid of guards... Nothing but the body of a guard lying on the floor. Small patches of blood leaked from his head and stomach, but he wasn't as dead as Arthur thought.
In a broken voice, the injured guard warned him.
Arthur cursed him in a low voice, ordering him to stay still if he wanted to survive another day.
He questioned him quickly:
- "Is the intruder still here?"
The guard nodded emphatically. Arthur didn't know what kept him going after all, but he always liked the thrill of the chase... and catching scoundrels as long as there was a reward waiting for him.
He stepped further into the hall, smelling the smell of the charcoal that powered the engines, mixed with pungent chemical odors that made his nostrils flare. He grumbled under his breath as he continued on his way.
The next room was... empty. He didn't like that. He cautiously pulled out his gun. He wasn't the type to rely on chance-he knew that an intruder's breath always gave him away. As usual, he trusted his instincts
He fired two shots. The sound of the explosion reverberated around the room, revealing ghostly figures moving in the shadows.
A shadowy figure emerged - a dark, camouflaged outfit, like an assassin's costume designed for disguise. In a heavy voice devoid of hesitation, Arthur said:
- "Drop the machine... Now."
But the intruder didn't answer. He just stood there provocatively, as if deliberately provoking him with indifference.
Arthur had no time to wait. In such situations, silence meant death. He pulled the trigger, and the spark went off as a heavy steel bullet pierced the unknown man's hand... But the other blocked it with his hand as if it were weightless.
Arthur took a few steps back, contemplating the hand that seemed naturally harder and tougher than the assassin's slender hand
"Metal?" Arthur thought to himself as he pulled the trigger again.
Shot after shot, but the assassin dodged them with surprising agility. The noise grew louder, and the hall turned into chaos. In a flash, the assassin tossed a long rope made of thin iron that wrapped tightly around Arthur's body, restricting his movement.
Arthur thought to himself that this fool would not be able to escape so easily. He didn't realize there was another assassin until he felt a hard blow to his head, knocking off his leather cap.
Blood flowed like a broken wine bottle, writhing in his black hair until it reached his eyes.
His blurred vision caught the assassins snatching the metal device they had come for, before they jumped through a nearby window and disappeared over the roof of the academy. They left him lying on the ground, bleeding to death... Or so he wanted it to look.
On the roof of the academy, the two assassins stood in the glow of exploding fireworks in the sky. One was the hulking figure who had struck Arthur earlier, while the other was a slender figure, fiddling with the light metal device in his hands.
The big one nodded, saying in a raspy voice that they had no time.
The other reluctantly agreed, trying to hide his discomfort at the pain that was starting to penetrate his prosthetic hands under the cloth.
They thought Arthur was dead. What they didn't realize was that he was better at acting than he was at killing.
He appeared to them again - standing in the center of the roof - blood dripping from his head, running down his black hair and piercing the corner of his eye. He couldn't see clearly except for the flashes of fireworks that reflected off the edge of the building.
With deadly calm and swaggering confidence, he raised his gun and fired madly.
The shots rang out, and he quickly reloaded. He hit one of the assassins with several shots, but realized they had enough strength to run and escape. His body began to fail him; the loss of blood made him heavier, and he still tried to follow them, but his legs felt like they were bound with cold iron.
He stopped at the edge of the high roof. There was only one round left in his gun. He raised his shaking hand and tried to hit the last of them before they disappeared over the horizon, but his vision was blurry and his hands lost their grip.
The cold that seeped into his feet like a sharp dagger was slowly freezing his concentration.
Suddenly, the sound of a spell pierced the silence, and the entire surface froze. Even his feet stuck to the ground as if they were part of it. He slowly turned around, only to find a student flying through the air, her hair blowing in the wind and her eyes blazing with anger as if she saw an intruder.
For the first time, Arthur saw a young girl with such a talent for flying. He stared at her for a moment, before remembering that assassins flee away, their trail slowly disappearing.
At the festival on the horizon