Chapter 233 – Sneaky Ant.

“…”

“What do you mean they are all dead? What about Kalar?”

“It seems Kalar has escaped.”

“That mutt would not dare. There has to be another reason.”

In a stylish office sat Varkas, leader of the Hounds. His fingertips were pressed together as he leaned back in his chair. News of his men’s betrayal had just reached him, yet he was not convinced that one of his sub-leaders would simply take some money and run.

“What should we do?”

“What else? Find him.”

Varkas slammed his fist onto the desk, and the group in the room flinched. Without another word, they nodded and filed out of the mercenary leader’s office. The door shut with a muted click, leaving Varkas alone. Lavish hardly began to describe the space.

The building stood far from the slums where his men had died and close to the noble district. It was built of polished stone, reinforced with steel not out of necessity but for display. Inside, thick colorful carpets stretched from wall to wall, their deep crimson threads embroidered with golden patterns of hunting hounds tearing into stags.

His desk was carved from darkheart oak, a rare timber imported at absurd cost by a merchant who had presented it to him for free. Off to the side sat a red armchair, with a small table beside it holding a glass of red wine. He lowered himself into the chair and studied the liquid, slowly swirling it as if imitating highborn nobility. Yet when he caught his reflection in the glass, his fingers began to tremble. His grip tightened, and the delicate stem snapped, shattering the round glass.

“Those bastards will not take this opportunity from me. I have worked too long to get here.”

He strode to the large window and tossed the shattered glass from his gloved hand. From there, he had a clear view of the city. On one side lay the slums. On the other stood the noble district. His gaze lingered on the finer buildings and the wall that kept him from entering them. A strange longing crossed his face, but the expression faltered as an uneasy sensation crept over him.

“Was it my imagination just now?”

Varkas leaned slightly out of the window and looked toward a smaller nearby building, fixing his gaze on the chimney. For a moment, he felt a presence there, but that was impossible. No one stood there, and there was not enough space for anyone to hide behind it.

As he continued to stare, the strange feeling lingered. The street below bustled as usual. Merchants pushed carts. Two children ran past laughing. A carriage rolled by, escorted by hired guards. Nothing unusual. No hostile mana signatures brushed against his senses. No archers perched on the rooftops. No assassins lurked in the alley since it was far too bright outside.

“Am I getting paranoid?”

He shook his head and stepped back into his office. He closed the window behind him and drew the expensive drapes, concealing the room’s interior from view. Unbeknownst to him, a small monster emerged from behind the chimney. It was a silvery ant.

“(ᵕ—ᴗ—)”

Gleam wiggled her antennae in relief before crouching and springing upward. Her wings unfolded, and she shot into the air. She made no sound, and though the streets below were filled with people, no one noticed the small monster moving.

The small ant landed on the roof of the Black Hound mercenary and waited. Inside, Varkas muttered to himself as he read through a stack of papers. After about twenty minutes, the door opened, and the man stepped out. Only then did the small monster move.

While the window was closed and protected with some magic, it posed no threat to this smart ant. After wiggling her antennae for a few minutes, the spell took shape, and the window pushed open as if an invisible hand was guiding it.

“( •̀ ᴗ •́ )”

Gleam slipped inside and skittered along the wall, making sure the owner would not return. Once she was certain no one was coming back, she set to work at once. She leapt onto the desk where a stack of papers lay.

“…That I, the great demon lord Aburdo,n would be used in such a way…”

A wisp of dark light floated forward, absorbing the knowledge contained in the papers while Gleam shifted them so he could scan their contents. She possessed considerable intelligence and could already read the humanoid language, but it was more efficient for Aburdon, who needed only a single glance to understand everything. Once the task was complete, she quickly scurried away as distant footsteps echoed through the corridor.

Fortunately, they were not headed for this room. Another door opened somewhere down the hall. Gleam used the distraction to slip out and hide behind a large crystal chandelier that hung there for some reason. Once outside, she closed the window and restored the protective magic that had sealed it, a task she had become quite adept at. Then she took off once more.

The flying ant traveled through the air, looking down at the settlement during the day. Everyone seemed too preoccupied with their life to notice it flying around through the air. Soon it headed to the edges of the slums, where smoke puffed from one of the chimneys and clinking of hammers was heard.

*****

“Gleam, is that you?”

Rusty called out as he stood in front of the shop. His friend landed on his shoulder and folded her wings as she prepared to give her report.

“( •̀ ᴗ •́ )و”

“Oh, you think he is starting to notice you? Maybe we should stop for now.”

“( •̀ – •́ )”

“I see. Then what did you find out about Varkas? Did he suspect it was me?”

“(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)”

With Gleam perched on his shoulder, Rusty stepped into the shop. Rolo was already behind the counter. Thanks to the health potions of this world, most of his wounds had healed. One injury remained. His arm had been broken by one of the mercenaries, and even with the potions, it would take another day to recover fully.

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The other children were gathered inside, tense as though they expected an attack at any moment. They had heard about the recent nightly deaths. Guard activity had increased, and even now, people were patrolling outside. Still, no one seemed any the wiser. For the moment, he had not been discovered.

The sound of clinking metal echoed from the smithy below. He used his blacksmith puppet to create the noise, keeping up the illusion that work was being done. It served as a cover while he stood watch and paced the shop. As he did, Gleam briefed him on the situation in the city.

Gleam had been keeping an eye on the mercenary leader. He was not handling the situation well, and word had already reached his superiors among the nobles. The paperwork Gleam had examined revealed several new locations they could target, much like the unfinished gambling den. Luckily, Varkas did not seem overly cautious yet, which allowed them to gather this information, but Rusty was not sure how long that would last.

“For now, Gleam, keep your distance.”

“( ╹ -╹)?”

“I know you’ve been doing well, but sooner or later, they will realize how we’re getting this information.”

“( •̀ ᴗ •́ )و”

Gleam nodded, and they retreated deeper into the shop to think things through. One of the sub leaders was gone, but three remained. Thanks to the information they had gathered, there were several ways to approach the situation. One option might allow them to avoid fighting all of them and instead turn them against each other.