The City Lord’s Deception

Meanwhile, a petite figure flitted between the various city gates.

“What’s the situation with people coming and going?” they asked.

“Of course, it’s all departures and no arrivals.”

“Who would even want to enter Juenburg these days?”

“Only three individuals entered through this gate today, two of whom promptly turned back and left. The third stayed for merely half a day before departing.”

Having dashed to all the city gates, from east to west, north to south, Iordera was utterly breathless from her exertions, feeling as though her very core was aflame.

She had received the expected, if disheartening, replies.

“It strikes me as odd, too,” remarked the person Iordera had been speaking with at the gate, “Juenburg sees only departures, yet how is it that these masked figures never seem to dwindle?”

Suddenly, a cry echoed from a short distance away: “The City Lord has arrived—!”

“My dear compatriots, today marks the fifth day before our ultimate hour. The lawless elements grow increasingly desperate, poised to launch their last, desperate counter-offensive. I implore you all to hold steadfast, for dawn shall surely break!”

City Lord Martin, standing atop a carriage, delivered his itinerant address along the thoroughfare. His personal guards and retinue stood beside the carriage; the scarcity of people on the streets ensured an unimpeded passage. The white-clad swordsman, whom Iordera had observed in the plaza that day, stood steadfastly by Martin’s side.

Though the populace remained indoors, every household lining the streets had flung open their windows, listening from afar to the City Lord’s pronouncements.

“My Lord City Lord! My Lord City Lord!”

A lone figure sprinted towards the procession. Iordera’s gaze sharpened, her eyelids fluttered wildly in surprise.

Why, that’s the very person she had just been speaking with.

Indeed, the procession halted. City Lord Martin regarded him with an unruffled demeanor: “What is it you wish to convey?”

“I have a pressing question, my Lord. For a considerable time now, our Juenburg has seen only departures, with no one entering. Why, then, have these masked figures never been apprehended in their entirety?”

Iordera stared, utterly dumbfounded. She thought, ‘My goodness, that man has some nerve! To directly confront the City Lord with such a question!’

Martin’s expression remained grave: “This precisely illustrates the perilous cunning of these lawless elements. They are an organized terror cell, possessing methods to conceal themselves. They infiltrated Juenburg long ago, their schemes deeply ingrained.”

He lifted his gaze, sweeping it across the windows of the surrounding streets, and addressed the hidden onlookers: “Herein, I implore each of you to exercise the utmost vigilance. Be keenly observant of suspicious individuals in your midst, for they may be lurking in your very surroundings!”

The townsfolk nodded in fervent agreement at his words. Even the bold man who had questioned him earlier couldn’t help but exclaim: “Ah, I see now. It all makes sense.”

‘No, you understand nothing at all,’ Iordera thought, concealed in the shadows of the street corner, feeling a complex swirl of emotions.

Frankly speaking, had she not heard Frank’s testimony beforehand, she, too, might have found merit in Martin’s words. After all, Hecate had been incarcerated within Juenburg for well over half a year.

However, when juxtaposed with Frank’s account and the intelligence she had personally gleaned, it became glaringly apparent that Martin’s pronouncements were nothing short of utter fabrication.

He spouted these claims so effortlessly, yet the surrounding populace accepted them without a shred of doubt.

Iordera gritted her teeth. An uncontrollable impulse surged within her: to rush forward and challenge him, to tear away his veneer of hypocrisy…

“Watch out!”

The furious cry startled her into a jolt. For a moment, she imagined she had lost control and charged forward. But a sharp glance confirmed she remained rooted to her spot. It was several masked figures who were hurtling towards the convoy.

“Assassins!”

“My Lord City Lord, take care!”

Panic erupted among the surrounding crowd. Yet Martin remained utterly unfazed. He stood atop the carriage, facing the masked assailants, an aura of righteous defiance radiating from him.

The guards, caught off guard by the suddenness of the attack, failed to react swiftly enough, allowing the assailants to close in on the carriage. Just as their weapons were poised to strike Martin, a flash of silver light arced through the air.

“Aargh!”

The silver light coalesced into a single, devastating line, leaving a trail of blossoming crimson. The masked figures lay strewn across the ground in disarray, not a single one left standing.

This chilling spectacle instantly brought Iordera’s racing thoughts to a standstill.

Taking a moment to collect herself, she retreated further behind the corner and closed her eyes.

[Switching detection modules]

As the ten-second loading bar completed, her perception underwent a profound transformation. The world around her dulled into a monochromatic haze; only distinct energy signatures, each marked with a corresponding level, moved within her sight.

The ordinary homes lining the streets registered no energy reactions. Near the carriage, a cluster of figures pulsed with energies ranging from level twenty to thirty. The towering figure atop the carriage, too, emanated a level 27 energy.

The City Lord’s personal combat prowess was unremarkable, but this was not the crucial point. The true concern lay with the white-clad swordsman beside him, whose energy signature soared to an astonishing Level 52.

While she had experience with battles against higher-leveled opponents, facing such an opponent… she’d likely be instantly annihilated.

Iordera stifled her urge.

“You pathetic, lost dogs, hear me well! I do not fear you. If you possess the courage, come directly for me!” Martin declared, his voice resonating from the front of the carriage. “But as long as you fail to strike me down, I shall contend with you to my very last breath!”

“Hear, hear!”

“The City Lord truly is a man of iron.”

“Indeed, indeed.”

Listening to the fervent declarations around her, Iordera gnashed her teeth in silent fury.

This was clearly nothing more than a theatrical display. Whether the masked figures strewn across the ground were truly dead remained an open question.

She was now utterly convinced that the City Lord was the true puppet master behind Juenburg’s turmoil. He had dispatched his own agents, disguised as masked figures, feigning allegiance to the witch’s minions, to sow discord and chaos throughout the city, orchestrating a grim charade in concert with the patrol guards.

But why would he orchestrate such a deception?

Furthermore, what role did Andrew and the other alchemist artisans truly play in this intricate conspiracy? And what exactly was Martin’s ultimate objective?

These were the questions that truly mattered.

Leaving the city gates behind, Iordera, her mind heavy with contemplation, staggered her way back to the prison. By the time she had fetched Hecate’s meal and delivered it, night had already fallen.

“My apologies, the delivery is a little late,” she murmured, her voice laced with exhaustion. “I hope you weren’t too famished.”

“It’s quite alright,” Hecate replied softly. “I wasn’t particularly hungry. But you, my dear, are covered in dust, like a veritable Cinderella. Where have you been?”

Iordera hesitated for a moment, before settling down and saying: “I ventured out to investigate the happenings within the city, and I am now virtually certain that City Lord Martin himself is the orchestrator of these events.”

“Oh?”

“He’s been sending people to impersonate the witch’s minions, sowing discord and panic throughout the city, leaving the populace in a state of terror,” Iordera bit down on her lip. “The only thing I can’t fathom is his ultimate goal.”

After a brief pause, she added: “It’s not hard to surmise, however. It’s likely either for financial gain or to eliminate political rivals…”

“That’s not quite right, you know,” Hecate interjected softly.

“What do you mean?”

“No, that’s not it,” Hecate tilted her head slightly. “If his motives were solely those two, he would have accomplished them long ago.”

Iordera’s brow furrowed in thought.

“Shortly after my incarceration, the landscape of Juenburg had already undergone a significant shift. Every member of the Alchemist Association was relieved of their duties, while the Mage Association departed Juenburg entirely, leaving not a single legitimate mage within the city.”