Item: The Coin of Misfortune.
Micah rubbed the charred black coin between his right hand's fingers. The coin's two faces were unrecognizable; it mattered not which side the coin landed on when tossed.
This thing is far too powerful for its own good. It's fortuitous to have fallen into my possession.
The handwritten note attached to the coin explained the artifact's effects and repercussions.
Description: This charred black coin, seemingly forged in the depths of ill fate, is an artifact of dread. The Coin of Misfortune radiates an aura of ominous energy and, upon a toss, nullifies the influence of luck-bestowing artifacts. It is an excellent item when playing cards against suspiciously lucky opponents who are cheating their way to victory. A single toss of the coin is all that's needed to nullify the artifact of choice for a total of two hours. Note that the effects are limited to a singular item, and a maximum of three tosses are allowed daily.
Warning: Extended usage of this coin will result in an increasing accumulation of misfortune. The more powerful the luck-emitting artifact being nullified, the higher the repercussions. Users are advised to monitor their surroundings and interactions closely, as the dark energy emitted can attract calamities, ultimately resulting in one's death.
Note: Please return within five days.
Micah paid little heed to this final warning. After all, his demise was something he fully expected to expedite in this Round—that was the price of his actions.
His cold gaze swept over the pale, lifeless body lying on the table within Frey Manor's dungeon.
Claude Noire, the leader of the Spiders Syndicate.
Now, he was but a slab of meat that Micah's subordinates were undressing to reveal the extent of his tattoos. Micah stood by one of the cold stone walls, overseeing the meticulous process.
"Master, it would be safest to wait outside until the inspection is complete," Seymour whispered. "He may be dead, but he might have a trick or two still up his sleeves."
Micah nodded thoughtfully. "I don't like how easily he was captured."
Seymour raised a questioning brow, but he refrained from voicing his thoughts.
It was far from an easy feat. The price was not low either. Micah had sacrificed over seventy percent of his syndicate's members to capture Claude, who was heavily guarded, including being protected by the continent's second most powerful ice mage. Ridley's mage squad was obliterated, taking her down in the process.
However, they succeeded. Miraculously, they captured Claude without so much as a scratch to his body. Micah had given strict orders not to harm Claude's body, avoiding any disfigurement of the intricate tattoos. However, that leniency did not extend to Claude's head, which now sat neatly severed from his body on a table a little distance away. His long black hair cascaded beyond the table's edge, and his face appeared eerily serene.
Micah frowned, glancing again toward the body before leaving the room.
"He is dead, isn't he?" he asked Seymour.
The question might have seemed baffling given how the man in question no longer had a head. However, there was something off. Micah couldn't put a finger on just what it was that unnerved him.
Perhaps the effects of the Coin of Misfortune are finally catching up to me?
"Yes, of course. We confirmed it with two separate tests," Seymour replied.
Micah nodded slowly. "Call me as soon as the inspection is complete."
The black mana-stone-embedded doors locked behind him, and Micah inhaled the air of the cellar.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Ah, god-fucking damn it.
Claude Noire, despite being the leader of one of the most powerful and dangerous syndicates on the continent, appeared to have never been harmed. His skin lacked any signs of battle or even youthful scuffles. There were no scars or blemishes.
The tale spun was that Claude Noire was untouchable. The syndicate and the people protecting him were too powerful. It was a convincing tale that prevented most from attempting their luck against him.
However, that tale was somewhat of a farce, and reality cast its own long shadow.
Did they carry my head upside down or something?
Claude tasted the bitterness of his own blood pooled up inside his mouth. A faint hum echoed in his mind, audible only to him.
At least they didn't pull out any of my teeth. Regrowing them would have been a pain.
One eye already partially open, Claude surveyed his surroundings. His gaze fell upon the headless, naked body of himself.
Tch.
Claude Noire's mother had bestowed upon him two gifts. The first one manifested itself as the intricate tattoo of past futures. The other was the gift of Vital Reformation. Or, as Claude liked to call it, the ability to play possum. He could survive just about anything as long as his brain was intact.
Survival at any cost, however, came with a price. Truthfully, Claude detested this ability. Having his head chopped off was incomparable to the pain of having to reattach his limbs together. Thus, given the chance, he preferred to allow his opponents to "kill" him quickly and easily rather than struggle and make a mess of things, thereby creating more painful work for himself.
But to think Micah Frey would go this far? It's been a year since the last time anyone attempted to capture me. And why now?
"Is this all that was found on him?" Micah Frey's voice sounded nearby, but Claude refrained from looking to avoid giving himself away.
"Yes, everything in his possession is on this table," another man's raspy voice responded.
"There wasn't a golden coin?" Micah pressed.
Is that useless thing what this is all about?
Claude had acquired the lucky coin from Chase Daylan, using his runic tattoos' knowledge, but its benefits were unsatisfactory. Most of the time, it fell on its edge, offering no insight, or it landed on tails, suggesting less-than-desirable fortunes.
"None that we found," the raspy man replied.
"Could he have swallowed it?" Micah speculated.
Claude sighed internally.
Is he going to cut me open, too?
Claude had his stomach opened up once before, and it was a most unpleasant experience merging his guts back together.
The other man suggested as such, to Claude's displeasure.
"No, that won't be necessary," Micah replied, sparing Claude from further intrusion. "Besides, the coin isn't our priority."
Micah walked around Claude's body, inspecting the tattoos.
"Have Leo come down," Micah ordered. "I want these deciphered and reverse-engineered."
Ah. So that's what this is about. But if it's the tattoo he's after, I can't be playing possum any longer.
Claude had wondered why Micah Frey had taken such sudden and extreme action and thus had allowed himself to be captured to comprehend the situation for himself.
Micah's attack was illogical. Claude had always held his reservations regarding Micah Frey's ambition and the rapid expansion of his family's influence. His tattoos did not mention the Frey family in the future, but today's Micah was a formidable force. Yet, the attack on him now came entirely out of nowhere and made little sense compared to the long-term ambition that Adovoria's future king-to-be held.
Micah Frey, if anything else, could be counted upon to be calculative and manipulative. Even what appeared as bursts of emotionally driven actions could be broken down into coldly calculated end results. One prime example was what happened with the first prince of the Daylan Dynasty.
Belestris, have the Circle of Death activated.
The hum in Claude's mind paused, and a woman's voice sounded.
Understood.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
"Young master Luca!"
I sprang out of the carriage before it came to a complete stop, and Remlend, the ever-perfect attendant, secured my descent by grabbing my hand and softening my landing.
"I heard my brother is in danger—what's the current situation?" I inquired, hastening toward the manor's entrance.
"Peep!"
Leona fluttered after me, perching herself comfortably on one of my shoulders.
She had conveyed that Claude had taken Micah hostage, but her understanding of the situation was limited. For all I knew, it all might have been resolved by the time I had returned to the manor by carriage.
However, judging by the anxious expressions of the guards and staff I passed, the situation had not improved.
"I do not know the full details, but Claude Noire is holding Micah hostage, threatening to kill him if he is not allowed safe passage out," Remlend explained, walking briskly beside me. "He has activated a runic field around himself. Anyone that enters his orb of influence is killed."
My eyes narrowed on an unmarked carriage parked in the courtyard, with a middle-aged woman standing beside it. Based on the guards standing near it, the visit didn't appear friendly.
"Who is that?" I inquired.
"She's with Clade Noire," Remlend replied. "Ah, you also have a visitor—"
"Grandov, right?" I guessed.
Remlend nodded his head.
"He can wait," I replied. "Take me to Micah. Are Mother or Father back? Who is handling negotiations?"
The state of Adovoria was critical, but it would be pointless if Micah were to perish.
Just what in the world happened?
"I'm afraid the Mistress and Master of the Frey Manor are still away on business," Remlend stated. "They have been called for, but, at the moment, your brother Micah is leading the negotiations himself. And before I forget, you received a letter."
I grabbed the envelope from Remlend's outstretched hand and ripped it open. I scanned the text as I continued walking, summarizing Kathy's initial findings.
"—requires more testing."
Damn it.
Given the unprecedented explosion of the Wobbly Pebble, I half expected it, but I had hoped for something. Anything, really. However, fortunately, or unfortunately, the poisoning exuded by the Wobbly Pebble's explosion was unlike anything Kathy had ever seen before. I could practically hear her excitement through the letter.
I crumpled up the paper and stashed it inside my coat.
Tap! Tap! Tap!
We rushed through the hallways of the manor. Our hurried steps seemed to echo through the air. However, we didn't enter the cellar. We didn't need to. Just outside its entrance stood a wall of guards whose presence was useless. Floating red runes surrounded a sphere of space that slowly moved past everyone. Within the area were Micah and a half-naked man with his head resting in the crook of his arm.
"Micah!" I called out, rushing forward.
"Stay back, young master Luca." One of the guards grabbed me and pulled me back.
"I can see the outline. I'm not that stupid." I pulled out of the guard's grasp and approached the red orb. My eyes gazed over the runes circling my brother and, who I presumed to be Claude Noire based on the sheer amount of tattoos.
Had it not been for the red orb, I might have assumed my brother was simply out for a stroll with this headless man.
Even in the face of death, he's so calm.
"Peep!
Leona chirped from my shoulder.
That's a pretty advanced runic spell.
I nodded. I didn't know much about runic spells, but having read a summarized version in one of the chapters of the beginner's guide to magic, I was confident that this was a very high-level sort of magic.
"So this must be your infamous brother," Claude's head spoke. "And I see he also has Phoenix Eyes like that Leo boy. And there is a third as well? Micah Frey, no wonder you've been acting so high and mighty."
I grimaced. I didn't know what sort of magic Claude was utilizing, but it was unsettling, to say the least, watching the head talk.
"Micah, what's the situation?" I asked my brother.
However, to my annoyance, Micah flashed a bright smile as if nothing was amiss.
"As you can see, I am currently being held hostage," Micah stated. "If anyone were to say, toss a weapon in at Claude here, the field would automatically activate, killing me."
"What are you after?" I asked Claude, glancing down at the unnerving severed head.
"I am simply trying to leave," Claude's mouth moved. "Let me leave, and I'll let your brother live. It's that simple."
I glanced back at my brother, who maintained his relaxed demeanor as the pair continued their slow walk forward.
"Don't worry, Luca," Micah stated, smiling broadly. "But it might be time to do the cat a favor."
AlekAundra
This is where it would certainly be most unfortunate if Luca were to say... forget the cat incident of Round 6 and 7. ~ ( •⩊• ) ~
Heh heh heh... anyhow, thank you for reading, and see you in the next chapter.
If you want to support/read ahead, 5 extra chapters are on Patreon.
Item: The Coin of Misfortune.
Micah rubbed the charred black coin between his right hand's fingers. The coin's two faces were unrecognizable; it mattered not which side the coin landed on when tossed.
This thing is far too powerful for its own good. It's fortuitous to have fallen into my possession.
The handwritten note attached to the coin explained the artifact's effects and repercussions.
Description: This charred black coin, seemingly forged in the depths of ill fate, is an artifact of dread. The Coin of Misfortune radiates an aura of ominous energy and, upon a toss, nullifies the influence of luck-bestowing artifacts. It is an excellent item when playing cards against suspiciously lucky opponents who are cheating their way to victory. A single toss of the coin is all that's needed to nullify the artifact of choice for a total of two hours. Note that the effects are limited to a singular item, and a maximum of three tosses are allowed daily.
Warning: Extended usage of this coin will result in an increasing accumulation of misfortune. The more powerful the luck-emitting artifact being nullified, the higher the repercussions. Users are advised to monitor their surroundings and interactions closely, as the dark energy emitted can attract calamities, ultimately resulting in one's death.
Note: Please return within five days.
Micah paid little heed to this final warning. After all, his demise was something he fully expected to expedite in this Round—that was the price of his actions.
His cold gaze swept over the pale, lifeless body lying on the table within Frey Manor's dungeon.
Claude Noire, the leader of the Spiders Syndicate.
Now, he was but a slab of meat that Micah's subordinates were undressing to reveal the extent of his tattoos. Micah stood by one of the cold stone walls, overseeing the meticulous process.
"Master, it would be safest to wait outside until the inspection is complete," Seymour whispered. "He may be dead, but he might have a trick or two still up his sleeves."
Micah nodded thoughtfully. "I don't like how easily he was captured."
Seymour raised a questioning brow, but he refrained from voicing his thoughts.
It was far from an easy feat. The price was not low either. Micah had sacrificed over seventy percent of his syndicate's members to capture Claude, who was heavily guarded, including being protected by the continent's second most powerful ice mage. Ridley's mage squad was obliterated, taking her down in the process.
However, they succeeded. Miraculously, they captured Claude without so much as a scratch to his body. Micah had given strict orders not to harm Claude's body, avoiding any disfigurement of the intricate tattoos. However, that leniency did not extend to Claude's head, which now sat neatly severed from his body on a table a little distance away. His long black hair cascaded beyond the table's edge, and his face appeared eerily serene.
Micah frowned, glancing again toward the body before leaving the room.
"He is dead, isn't he?" he asked Seymour.
The question might have seemed baffling given how the man in question no longer had a head. However, there was something off. Micah couldn't put a finger on just what it was that unnerved him.
Perhaps the effects of the Coin of Misfortune are finally catching up to me?
"Yes, of course. We confirmed it with two separate tests," Seymour replied.
Micah nodded slowly. "Call me as soon as the inspection is complete."
The black mana-stone-embedded doors locked behind him, and Micah inhaled the air of the cellar.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Ah, god-fucking damn it.
Claude Noire, despite being the leader of one of the most powerful and dangerous syndicates on the continent, appeared to have never been harmed. His skin lacked any signs of battle or even youthful scuffles. There were no scars or blemishes.
The tale spun was that Claude Noire was untouchable. The syndicate and the people protecting him were too powerful. It was a convincing tale that prevented most from attempting their luck against him.
However, that tale was somewhat of a farce, and reality cast its own long shadow.
Did they carry my head upside down or something?
Claude tasted the bitterness of his own blood pooled up inside his mouth. A faint hum echoed in his mind, audible only to him.
At least they didn't pull out any of my teeth. Regrowing them would have been a pain.
One eye already partially open, Claude surveyed his surroundings. His gaze fell upon the headless, naked body of himself.
Tch.
Claude Noire's mother had bestowed upon him two gifts. The first one manifested itself as the intricate tattoo of past futures. The other was the gift of Vital Reformation. Or, as Claude liked to call it, the ability to play possum. He could survive just about anything as long as his brain was intact.
Survival at any cost, however, came with a price. Truthfully, Claude detested this ability. Having his head chopped off was incomparable to the pain of having to reattach his limbs together. Thus, given the chance, he preferred to allow his opponents to "kill" him quickly and easily rather than struggle and make a mess of things, thereby creating more painful work for himself.
But to think Micah Frey would go this far? It's been a year since the last time anyone attempted to capture me. And why now?
"Is this all that was found on him?" Micah Frey's voice sounded nearby, but Claude refrained from looking to avoid giving himself away.
"Yes, everything in his possession is on this table," another man's raspy voice responded.
"There wasn't a golden coin?" Micah pressed.
Is that useless thing what this is all about?
Claude had acquired the lucky coin from Chase Daylan, using his runic tattoos' knowledge, but its benefits were unsatisfactory. Most of the time, it fell on its edge, offering no insight, or it landed on tails, suggesting less-than-desirable fortunes.
"None that we found," the raspy man replied.
"Could he have swallowed it?" Micah speculated.
Claude sighed internally.
Is he going to cut me open, too?
Claude had his stomach opened up once before, and it was a most unpleasant experience merging his guts back together.
The other man suggested as such, to Claude's displeasure.
"No, that won't be necessary," Micah replied, sparing Claude from further intrusion. "Besides, the coin isn't our priority."
Micah walked around Claude's body, inspecting the tattoos.
"Have Leo come down," Micah ordered. "I want these deciphered and reverse-engineered."
Ah. So that's what this is about. But if it's the tattoo he's after, I can't be playing possum any longer.
Claude had wondered why Micah Frey had taken such sudden and extreme action and thus had allowed himself to be captured to comprehend the situation for himself.
Micah's attack was illogical. Claude had always held his reservations regarding Micah Frey's ambition and the rapid expansion of his family's influence. His tattoos did not mention the Frey family in the future, but today's Micah was a formidable force. Yet, the attack on him now came entirely out of nowhere and made little sense compared to the long-term ambition that Adovoria's future king-to-be held.
Micah Frey, if anything else, could be counted upon to be calculative and manipulative. Even what appeared as bursts of emotionally driven actions could be broken down into coldly calculated end results. One prime example was what happened with the first prince of the Daylan Dynasty.
Belestris, have the Circle of Death activated.
The hum in Claude's mind paused, and a woman's voice sounded.
Understood.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
"Young master Luca!"
I sprang out of the carriage before it came to a complete stop, and Remlend, the ever-perfect attendant, secured my descent by grabbing my hand and softening my landing.
"I heard my brother is in danger—what's the current situation?" I inquired, hastening toward the manor's entrance.
"Peep!"
Leona fluttered after me, perching herself comfortably on one of my shoulders.
She had conveyed that Claude had taken Micah hostage, but her understanding of the situation was limited. For all I knew, it all might have been resolved by the time I had returned to the manor by carriage.
However, judging by the anxious expressions of the guards and staff I passed, the situation had not improved.
"I do not know the full details, but Claude Noire is holding Micah hostage, threatening to kill him if he is not allowed safe passage out," Remlend explained, walking briskly beside me. "He has activated a runic field around himself. Anyone that enters his orb of influence is killed."
My eyes narrowed on an unmarked carriage parked in the courtyard, with a middle-aged woman standing beside it. Based on the guards standing near it, the visit didn't appear friendly.
"Who is that?" I inquired.
"She's with Clade Noire," Remlend replied. "Ah, you also have a visitor—"
"Grandov, right?" I guessed.
Remlend nodded his head.
"He can wait," I replied. "Take me to Micah. Are Mother or Father back? Who is handling negotiations?"
The state of Adovoria was critical, but it would be pointless if Micah were to perish.
Just what in the world happened?
"I'm afraid the Mistress and Master of the Frey Manor are still away on business," Remlend stated. "They have been called for, but, at the moment, your brother Micah is leading the negotiations himself. And before I forget, you received a letter."
I grabbed the envelope from Remlend's outstretched hand and ripped it open. I scanned the text as I continued walking, summarizing Kathy's initial findings.
"—requires more testing."
Damn it.
Given the unprecedented explosion of the Wobbly Pebble, I half expected it, but I had hoped for something. Anything, really. However, fortunately, or unfortunately, the poisoning exuded by the Wobbly Pebble's explosion was unlike anything Kathy had ever seen before. I could practically hear her excitement through the letter.
I crumpled up the paper and stashed it inside my coat.
Tap! Tap! Tap!
We rushed through the hallways of the manor. Our hurried steps seemed to echo through the air. However, we didn't enter the cellar. We didn't need to. Just outside its entrance stood a wall of guards whose presence was useless. Floating red runes surrounded a sphere of space that slowly moved past everyone. Within the area were Micah and a half-naked man with his head resting in the crook of his arm.
"Micah!" I called out, rushing forward.
"Stay back, young master Luca." One of the guards grabbed me and pulled me back.
"I can see the outline. I'm not that stupid." I pulled out of the guard's grasp and approached the red orb. My eyes gazed over the runes circling my brother and, who I presumed to be Claude Noire based on the sheer amount of tattoos.
Had it not been for the red orb, I might have assumed my brother was simply out for a stroll with this headless man.
Even in the face of death, he's so calm.
"Peep!
Leona chirped from my shoulder.
That's a pretty advanced runic spell.
I nodded. I didn't know much about runic spells, but having read a summarized version in one of the chapters of the beginner's guide to magic, I was confident that this was a very high-level sort of magic.
"So this must be your infamous brother," Claude's head spoke. "And I see he also has Phoenix Eyes like that Leo boy. And there is a third as well? Micah Frey, no wonder you've been acting so high and mighty."
I grimaced. I didn't know what sort of magic Claude was utilizing, but it was unsettling, to say the least, watching the head talk.
"Micah, what's the situation?" I asked my brother.
However, to my annoyance, Micah flashed a bright smile as if nothing was amiss.
"As you can see, I am currently being held hostage," Micah stated. "If anyone were to say, toss a weapon in at Claude here, the field would automatically activate, killing me."
"What are you after?" I asked Claude, glancing down at the unnerving severed head.
"I am simply trying to leave," Claude's mouth moved. "Let me leave, and I'll let your brother live. It's that simple."
I glanced back at my brother, who maintained his relaxed demeanor as the pair continued their slow walk forward.
"Don't worry, Luca," Micah stated, smiling broadly. "But it might be time to do the cat a favor."
AlekAundra
This is where it would certainly be most unfortunate if Luca were to say... forget the cat incident of Round 6 and 7. ~ ( •⩊• ) ~
Heh heh heh... anyhow, thank you for reading, and see you in the next chapter.
If you want to support/read ahead, 5 extra chapters are on Patreon.
