The Smuggling Deal and a Diplomat’s Secret

As night descended, Iordera, familiar with the bustling lanes, entered a tavern in the night market.

Cat Head greeted her from afar, extending a cup of wine. “Here comes the little beauty. This is the first pour since the casks were opened tonight. Have a taste.” He was quite fond of the charming, white-haired girl. In just one week, the tavern’s revenue had surpassed the combined total of all other middlemen, allowing him to amass a significant fortune.

Iordera took the cup and drained it in one gulp. “Did you get the information?”

“Of course. Someone completed the task just after dusk last night,” Cat Head said, handing her a sealed envelope. “Spencer, the Dog-headed person’s residence, is inside, along with his daily routine.”

Iordera took the envelope, lowering her voice. “I want to inquire about a smuggling mission.”

Cat Head glanced around, then gestured for Iordera to speak behind the counter.

“Smuggling, that’s a bit complicated…” he mused. “Are you taking a mission or posting one?”

“Posting.”

“Then there’s no issue,” Cat Head assured her. “Contraband smuggling is a complex affair, requiring organization and long-term operation. It has always been controlled by a few local gangs.

They only occasionally come here to find temporary help. However, if you’re posting a mission, you needn’t concern yourself with such details. It’s perfectly fine.”

A surge of delight filled Iordera’s heart. “So, smuggling missions are quite reliable, then?”

“Precisely. As the patron, you can rest entirely at ease.”

“Good. Then, I have another question,” Iordera whispered. “To transport goods from Saroyan to the Orcish race’s territory—is that something anyone undertakes?”

Cat Head chuckled. “If you offer enough coin, they can even force their way through if discovered by guards midway, ensuring your goods are delivered safely.

He poured two more glasses of wine, placing them on the table. “If you’re willing to make this deal, I can personally approach the gangs on your behalf to negotiate.”

Iordera picked up her glass, drank it down, and then placed a Gold Coin card on the coaster. “It’s a deal.”

This was her last significant sum of money. The funds Hecate had lent her were nearly depleted.

****

Leaving the tavern, Iordera found a quiet spot. She pulled out the envelope to examine Spencer’s location details.

She knew precisely what needed to be done.

Saroyan was a cosmopolitan city, where many races coexisted.

This was the polite way of speaking. In reality, the various circles and exclusionary practices were quite severe, with non-native races largely confined to areas around their respective consulates, forming their own distinct communities.

Consequently, the Orcish race resided near the East District Consulate. Orcs were rarely seen in Saroyan’s other three districts; indeed, the East District was exclusively populated by orcs, devoid of elves or goblins.

Spencer, the former diplomat of the consulate, lived three streets away. This area marked the periphery of the Orcish race’s community and the city limits, a sparsely populated district.

Every few days, Spencer would emerge from his home to procure necessities near the more densely populated consulate.

On this particular day, he returned from his usual shopping trip, laden with numerous bags, only to find a window ajar.

And in the center of his room sat an adorable human girl.

“Don’t be nervous, Spencer, and shed that defensive posture,” Iordera said, her small feet propped brazenly on the chair, displaying an air of utter arrogance. “There’s no need to look ready to strike; you won’t prevail against me.”

She had observed him; he was merely level thirty-something, quite weak.

Back in Juneburg, Iordera had already dispatched a level thirty-something opponent in a single move.

Spencer remained silent for a long moment, then moved a chair from the corner of the room and sat down. “No matter your purpose in seeking me out, you will not receive the answer you desire.”

“That remains to be seen.”

Iordera tilted her head, one hand resting on the table, her fingers lightly tapping the surface.

“Spencer, you’re not happy in Saroyan, are you? Do you wish to return home?”

A slight twitch rippled through the fur on Spencer’s face. “I don’t understand what you’re saying. I live quite well here.”

“If you say so.” Iordera stopped her hand. “Allow me to introduce myself. You might have seen the news, though the bards didn’t fully report it. Still, you must have heard about those who relentlessly pursued a small girl with beast ears, only to be ambushed themselves a few nights ago, their fates unknown.”

The fur near Spencer’s eyes twitched once more.

Being a Dog-headed person had this disadvantage: the loose skin and abundant fur on their faces made it impossible to conceal their true expressions.

“That was my doing,” Iordera declared, revealing her identity. “I am the older sister of those girls, and I will not spare anyone who harms them.”

Spencer raised a hand to touch the fur on his face. “That has nothing to do with me.”

“Is that so? You have no connection to Dogget either?”

“Of course. Everyone at the consulate knows we have no dealings…”

“If you truly had no dealings, I wouldn’t be here,” Iordera stated, spreading her hands in a gesture of finality. “Let’s be direct, Spencer. I need to know the truth of what happened, and I need whatever Dogget left with you.”

“To protect them, I am capable of anything.”

Her small frame leaned forward, and Iordera’s voice turned chillingly cold. “Including eliminating Busius Sunhand, the highest-ranking official in Saroyan District!”

‘She couldn’t truly eliminate him; she was no match. Still, her objective remained largely the same.’

The fur on Spencer’s face twitched violently several times. He hadn’t anticipated that Iordera would even know the true mastermind.

He quickly regained his composure. “You can’t do that. And even if you could, it would be meaningless.”

“Hmm, then how about helping you leave Saroyan? Would that be meaningful?” Iordera asked, tilting her head as she watched him.

Spencer’s brow twitched. “You… you can do that?”

“Of course. You don’t actually think that just because there are guards, no one can sneak out of the city, do you? Surely not,” Iordera scoffed, a cold smile playing on her lips. “Big man, humans have countless ways.”

She wasn’t merely making empty promises; she unfolded a piece of paper, displaying her sincerity. “I’ve bribed the ‘Chamberlain Gang’ in the night market. They specialize in smuggling, moving all sorts of illicit goods in and out without a single misstep. The price I paid is enough to ensure that, even if discovered by soldiers, they will force their way through and get you out.”

Finishing her explanation, Iordera flexed her wrist. “If you don’t believe me, you can give me the items when you’re leaving Saroyan. I can even accompany you myself.”

Spencer slowly rose from his chair.

“No need. I believe you… if you truly are doing this for those children.”

He pried open a floor tile in the corner, retrieved a wrapped package, and brought it before Iordera.

“If you wish to know, then listen to my story.”

In that moment, the former diplomat, despite being in the prime of his life, seemed to age considerably.