Chapter 76: Chapter 75: Stealthy Odyssey
In the southwestern part of the Realm, amidst pristine, polished structures, lies the city of St. Mecca, the center of the domains of the Quavadis group of devout holy people.
The white-stoned streets, slow carriages, and leisurely strides of pedestrians give the city an air of tranquility.
At the entrance to the city, paladins in white armor and robes stand guard.
Then.
Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding.
A carriage drawn by three horses pulls up to the checkpoint.
The paladins screening entry into the city halted the carriage.
"There will be a brief checkpoint."
The traders from the cart then presented the paladins with their passes and ID cards.
The paladins took them and examined them.
"You must be Mr. Joseph Josta of the Oil Dealers, 108 Dortmund Road, first floor. What is in your cart?"
"Oil, as it says on the import license ... ... ."
The trader stroked his mustache and recalled.
Sure enough, the cart's interior was filled with large tin barrels.
The paladins peered inside.
"Would you mind if we actually inspect the interior?"
"Of course."
The trader nodded, and the paladins drew their swords and moved onto the cart.
The cart wobbled slightly as the three or four heavily armed knights stepped in.
The paladins carefully examined the barrels inside the cart.
They were heavy, each with a tightly sealed lid.
The paladins tapped the barrels together.
...Boom!
They could tell they were filled to the brim with oil. All the barrels were like that.
"Shall I not take this one?"
"Of course not. There's more than oil in these barrels."
The paladins nodded at the trader's words.
"Pass!"
And with that, the cart passed through the gates and into the city.
A short while later, the carriage pulled into the outskirts of a deserted alley, into an abandoned back entrance.
The trader glanced around his surroundings a few times before lifting the lid of the oil barrel.
...Poof! Poof!
He took a massive crowbar and pried the lid, and with a loud bang, the barrel opened up.
The iron lid, which had been tightly sealed, bent and opened, revealing the oil inside.
The trader called out in an anxious voice.
"... ... , come out now."
He did. And then something astonishing happened.
Pow!
The outer layer of the dark oil cracked, revealing a figure inside.
It was a man wearing a black hat like a pirate captain, a stork's beak gas mask like a doctor specializing in infectious diseases, and a thick overcoat.
He emerged from the barrel, covered in dark oil, and stood on the floor of the cart.
The trader began to tremble at the bizarre sight.
Then, the stork gas mask man reached into his pocket and handed the trader something.
It was a bundle of oiled teeth, the teeth of the prized oxbear.
"Go, thank you."
The payment he'd agreed to accept in exchange for hiding in the cart and passing through the gates.
The trader bowed and accepted the oxbear's tooth and placed it in his pocket.
Then, dripping with oil, the man began to walk down the back alley.
At his heels, the trader stammered, "Who are you?
" ... ... , but who are you?"
The man flicked his stork's nose and replied in a brief, sharp voice.
"The Dog of the Evening."
With that, he melted into the darkness of the alley and disappeared.
The trader, left alone, stared at the bubbling oil in the tin and muttered despondently.
" ... ... How does a man stay submerged in oil for north of two hours?"
* * *
The Night Dog returned to the back of the dark alley and removed his mask.
"Pooh!"
Vikir exhaled. He shook the oil off his body and breathed deeply.
He hadn't been submerged like this since he'd endured seven minutes in the Styx River when he was barely a year old.
Today, he'd infiltrated the home of the Quavadis family, a tribe of revered holy men.
"... ... the dog of the evening."
It's a reference to the Balak clan leader Aquila's star sign, "Fox of the Evening," but it doesn't sound quite right.
Still, it was certainly better than being known as the Dog of Baskerville before the regression, Vikir thought.
"...."
Vikir paused for a moment to reflect.
It had taken them exactly four days to get here.
Two days to escape the depths, a day to scout the Baskerville family domain, and another day to infiltrate the territory of the Devoted Quavadis.
The depths of the Red and Dark Mountains were vast, but the floods helped them escape.
The rapids that sprang up everywhere, and the bodies and logs that floated above them, made traveling significantly faster.
Most of the streams were covered with dense vegetation and branches, so even rivers and lakes that had no outlet could easily be traversed by moving over the forest canopy.
Of course, there were hungry creatures along the way, but they were no match for the fully restored Vikir.
Giant catfish, ancient reptiles, ferocious bears, marauding packs of wild dogs, and venomous bats... ... were mere rites of passage for Vikir, who had seamlessly adapted to the depth environment over the past two years.
"... ... No, it was dangerous once."
'Let's face it, the bone-sucking mosquitoes, they were really dangerous.
Unfazed by the torrential rain, they pursued Vikir in swarms, and he spent nearly half a day trying to keep them at bay.
The ailing Pomeranian caught a bug and struggled for a while.
The first thing Vikir did when he emerged from the water was to take Pomeranian to the city of Dark Horse.
Mr. Chihuahua, who was gazing at the full moon in the night sky, fainted three times in a row when he saw Vikir burst through the window of his tiny apartment.
Vikir had come to City Hall because he was a specimen of the rare breed of person in Baskerville who could be entrusted with an identity that belied his slender appearance.
"... ... , Deputy, are you a ghost? No, I mean, how did you get here?
"'Why don't I know the layout of the place I used to go to work every day?
By now, the Chihuahua had woken up, and when Vikir told him what had happened, he let out a cry of love.
'You are indeed a great man, Deputy. Only you lead a different kind of life. What kind of beast clans do you live with for two years... ... '
"I'll be back in full power soon enough, so be prepared. And keep quiet about everything that happened today.
'I see, but who is this child, who looks so much like you,
Chief Deputy... ... ? Is this the offspring of Chief Deputy, who has been having an affair with a savage of some kind... ... .'
'By blood, yes, but not in the way you imagine, so spare me the rubbish.'
Vikir entrusted the Chihuahua with Pomeranian.
'He is a well-known individual, so don't ask him anything until I return, and then take great care of him and provide him with basic education.
The story flows quickly, as the Chihuahua still hasn't forgotten Vikir, the former chief deputy, and his eyes are still red from an occasional glass of wine.
Chihuahua quickly summoned an expert from the city hall, who examined Pomerian and brought him medicine and food.
"I will take care of her, with my life, until the deputy returns.
The Chihuahua said earnestly.
Two years later, he still looked skinny, but Vikir knew he was an upright man.
Considering the Chihuahua's low salary, Vikir handed over Oxbear's pelt and horns to Pomerian in exchange for child support.
"Hee! What are you giving me for this?
"To be sold at your discretion."
"Oh, that's a lot of pelts and horns for a big guy, and if I can sell them properly, they'll be worth more than a decade of my salary.
"Make sure Pomerian is well taken care of."
"You're very protective of your daughter. You're a good father. I have three daughters of my own, so I know how you feel."
The Chihuahua gave Vikir a paternal smile and a knowing nod.
There was a hint of misunderstanding, but Vikir didn't bother to clarify.
Then.
'ah! Deputy, this is... ... !'
As if on cue, Chihuahua quickly opened a cabinet in the corner of the office and took out a stack of old papers.
Vikir's eyes lit up when he saw it.
It was a file of news clippings from the past two years, detailing Baskerville and Morg's interactions, recent developments, and ongoing issues.
"I was prepared in case the deputy deputy could return.' !"
Chihuahua rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment.
Vikir was grateful that Chihuahua hadn't forgotten him, even in this situation.
So Vikir agreed to help solve some of the problems in the city of Dark Horse, which is currently experiencing a resurgence of crime due to the absence of a sheriff.
"If it interferes with your work, you can find Sindhiwendi in Messinadnaro. She owes me."
Vikir told Chihuahua in a subdued tone.
Chihuahua's eyes widened.
Messinadnaro Sindiwendi was a criminal whom Vikir had freed in a plea deal two years earlier.
"How do I find her?"
"Do you remember the girl I gave 10 billion to when I was chief deputy?"
"Sure. Her name was Judy, too."
"I'd probably go looking for her, since it's hard to make 10 billion, but keeping it is much harder. She has nowhere to go and no backup, so she's easy to get to."
Chihuahua nodded quietly at Vikir's words.
Just out of jail and poverty-stricken, finding an investor would be her top priority.
She had once approached Gambino, a destitute neighborhood noble, and become his investment advisor.
"But if I find her, will she continue to help me? She must have something against the local government."
"Tell her you'll get her some good business."
"And by good business, you mean... ... ?
Vikir was kind enough to answer Chihuahua's questions.
"'I will give you a monopoly on trade with the savage clans."
The savage clans of the Sioux River have not traded with the Realm since the conflict with the merchants of Common Street long ago.
If Vikir, the recent hero of Balak, were to step forward, that trade could be revived, and the trader who did so would likely find great wealth.
Add to that the fact that the Dark Horse city's crime rate has been on the rise again since Vikir's departure, and her advice would be invaluable in resolving the many issues and ills of the city.
At that, Chihuahua nodded.
Indeed, within a few hours of Bikir's return, the problems of the past two years were already showing signs of resolution.
Chihuahua was in awe once again.
...Whoo!
Vikir launches himself back over the windowsill.
The night dog escapes the Dark Horse city.
'Deputy Chief! Where are you going?
With Chihuahua's distressed cry behind him, Vikir heads to the Quavadis territory to fulfill his promise to Aiyen.
Where the 'red death' of Ahul could be swiftly cured.
'... ... That can easily be accomplished with a single drop of your family's sacred water.'
The Quarvadis, one of the Seven Places of the Realm, a clan of devout saints.
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