73 – Home Invasion

Facing the suspected spy that was one twitch of his dagger away from slipping through my fingers, my brain went into overdrive.

Stealth time is over, I need to get him under control now! Also, stop him from taking his secrets to the grave… Ah, that could work.

“Where are the valuables?! If you give me your money, you don’t need to die!” I whisper-yelled in my best attempt at a fake voice. Good enough to not sound like myself, so I would take it.

That hasty deception actually appeared to work. He didn’t let down his guard, but the steely look in his eyes disappeared and he got into more of an obvious combat stance.

If the intruder was a mere thief-turned-robber, then there was no need for my target to kill himself to protect his secrets. He might see through my ruse soon enough, but I only needed to stop him for a short moment, anyway.

The next problem was the door. It was stuck somehow, preventing me from entering the room and subduing its occupant. I could already see him inching towards the window while keeping an eye on me. Probably planning to call out to alert the guards to the break-in.

Since he’s the totally legitimate victim of an attempted robbery, it won’t be suspicious to call for aid. In fact, it’d be weird for him not to do so.

I couldn’t allow that escalation.

Gathering my strength, I took one step back. Then, before the spy had time to react, I charged forward and shoulder-checked the door with all my might. The crack of splintering wood rang out alongside my pained hiss.

To my slight surprise, the door had actually survived the collision. However, whatever had blocked it took the brunt of my force and gave in, allowing me entry into the room.

Facing off against my opponent, I rubbed my shoulder. It didn’t feel dislocated or broken, as far as I could tell, but it hurt nonetheless. Already, my blood was rushing to the location to heal me. I didn’t stop it, I needed to be at my best for the confrontation. I’d get a refund on the blood soon enough. It was good my mouth was covered, since I nearly bared my fangs at the man. My blood was pumping with vicious excitement, full of adrenaline.

For his part, the spy had realized it was too late to call for help. The window was barred like the others, so opening it to be properly audible outside would take far too long. Instead, he lunged toward me with his dagger before I could recover from my forced entry.

Decisive, I praised him mentally. Too bad your enemy is me. My lips twisted into a grin.

Even though I was unarmed against a dagger, this man wasn’t Lars. And I wasn’t holding back to ‘reasonable’ behavior, like in training.

With speed beyond a normal human, I twisted to the side. In response, the spy changed his stab into a slash at my mid-section. He was clearly skilled in using his weapon, more than would be expected from a normal citizen. More skilled than me too, I had to admit. I didn’t see a way to avoid the hit without giving ground.

In the end though, for all his skill, he was a mere man. I was more.

Time for a move that would count as a fail in training.

Instead of retreating out of range, as my opponent probably expected and was preparing for, I grabbed the dagger’s blade with one hand, where it bit deep but eventually stopped. The glove didn’t offer any resistance, leather parting easily before the blade. With the momentum halted, I grabbed his wrist with my other hand.

Ignoring the searing line cut into my palm was surprisingly easy. The feeling of metal scraping bone a bit less so, but I managed. My hand was a bit unresponsive.

Capitalizing on his moment of shock at my actions, I took a step into the man’s guard and slammed my elbow into his sternum. Before he could even double over in pain, I shifted my grip on his arm, made another half-step to turn back toward the door and flipped him over my shoulder.

Impact with the ground drove the air from his lungs as he shrank in on himself in pain. He’d lost his grip on the dagger, which I tossed aside, out of reach. With my enemy on the ground and momentarily helpless, I didn’t have any issue pinning him.

“W-who are you?” he wheezed as soon as he managed a breath. There was a certain resigned but resolute look in his eyes that I didn’t appreciate.

“Where’s the money?” My question took him by surprise, dissipating the deadly resolve for just a moment. He looked almost relieved. A weakness I could exploit.

As he opened his mouth again to answer, we had finally held eye contact long enough. He was clearly somewhat trained, but the momentary lapse in his will helped me along.

“There’s a hidden comp–” he began, before his eyes lost focus and he trailed off.

Influence’s hold on the man was a bit tenuous, so I made sure to maintain my gaze. I did let up on my grapple, since he wouldn’t fight back in this state. First of all, I opened his mouth and let the blood from the already mostly healed cut on my hand drip into it. Not too long later, I felt the new bond form. Based on his serene mental state, he was actually influenced and not faking somehow. I had to hold back the intense desire to bite the defenseless prey in my control, at least not yet. Soon. My fangs were already extended. His blood smelled good, though the hint of bitter herb wasn’t pleasant.

What followed was a simple but extensive interrogation that confirmed Mel’s intel. This man was a spy placed here to keep an eye on my activities. Relieving to know for sure. I don’t feel like attacking a random person, if I can help it. In addition to things I already suspected, I learned the details of his operation.

Similar to Margret, this spy also didn’t know the identity of his master. He simply sent coded letters to another contact in a distant city, using traveling merchants as messengers.

As for what kinds of information he could gather from outside the manor, it was surprisingly varied, to my dismay.

First of all, this house was positioned such that the first floor had an unobstructed view over the town’s palisade wall, looking out on the road leading to and from the manor. In this way, all comings and goings could be noted. This was as I’d suspected before.

As for internal manor information, the spy employed a trick so simple I hadn’t even considered it – he was drinking buddies with a group of my guards. He paid for drinks at the town tavern and then listened to drunk people spilling secrets.

No one suspected a thing, and he got his inside information. Best of all, it made him more popular in the community. The way I understood it, the outward-facing persona he adopted was extremely friendly and charitable, taking care of his neighbors and making friends everywhere.

I was equally impressed with his skill and success at acting as I was annoyed at my blabbermouth subordinates. In addition to all that, I was also vindicated in my assumption that this man was well-connected in town. If I had sent out men to arrest him, it was quite possible they would have ‘accidentally’ failed at their job. This needed correcting.

Under my influence, I also learned the locations of the three hidden compartments in various parts of his house. One of these contained a bit of money – the ‘savings’ he had wanted to sacrifice to get a presumed robber off his back. Due to its nature as a smokescreen to hide the real secrets, this one wasn’t hidden all too well.

Another held nothing but various documents and writing implements. Nothing overly important, really. Most interesting was the last stash, hidden under one of the stone slabs making up the workshop floor. It was well-hidden enough that I probably wouldn’t have found it on my own. Quite a lot of skill must have gone into the construction.

This was the mother-lode. More money, enough that I was actually shocked he’d gathered this much. There’s nearly two dozen gold coins here! That was slightly more than the yearly salaries of all my staff, combined. Accompanied by half-finished spy reports and a letter of instructions sent by his superiors that he hadn’t burned yet, for some reason. It was coded as well, so the risk wouldn’t normally be too high. Apparently, he was supposed to find out more about the rumored demon incident and keep an eye on my guests.

He’d been quite successful at that, too. The drafted letter contained a nearly complete chain of events from before the ritual all the way up to when the demon hunters arrived. It even included mention of Anaster’s appearance, though thankfully not our conversation.

All that info must have come from inside sources, redoubling my annoyance at how leaky security was in my manor. Just a bit of cheap liquor and secrets spilled out like water from a faucet.

More disconcertingly, the spy revealed instructions he’d received to aid further agents that would be arriving soon. He didn’t know them, nor had they shown up yet, but this worried me nonetheless.

Opening the stashes and reading the contents was a bit awkward with my need to maintain eye contact, but over time the man’s resistance to influence decreased. According to my previous tests, this was most likely a result of the bond, plus some effect from prolonged exposure.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

All in all, this excursion of mine was successful. Unfortunately, unless I planned to travel over a week away to a city I’d never been to and search for someone who was in all likelihood just another middleman, I wouldn’t be finding any other spies in the near future.

I’d have to keep an eye out – and instruct Lars and Mia – for those other agents. It was likely they had something to do with the presence of my guests. I just didn’t know what their purpose was supposed to be. Mere additional spies? Assassination or sabotage attempts? Something worse I couldn’t think of?

For a moment, I considered trying to convert this spy to my side and using him to catch these agents. After thinking it through, I discarded the idea. He admitted under my interrogation that he had been ready to kill himself to avoid capture earlier, so I doubted it would be easy to get him to switch sides.

Heavy-handed use of the blood bond and influence might help, but the necessary effort and risk just couldn’t be justified. The juice wasn’t worth the squeeze, so to say.

That just left one question. What do I do with this guy?

I’d already instructed him to forget all about my break-in. Even so, leaving him here wouldn’t work. Aside from the fact that I didn’t want to leave an actual spy intact – unlike Margret, who was a double agent now, and more useful alive – there would be traces of my being here even if he didn’t remember. For one, the plank of wood wedged behind the door that broke when I forced my way in, but also the soot stains downstairs.

No, I decided, I’ll have to remove this guy. But how?