Unfortunately for the D'argent gang, all their efforts ended up in vain, as their target has been comfortably sleeping in his inn room while they wasted many resources looking for him. While they did kill a few unaffiliated criminals who'd been operating in their territory, it was nowhere near enough to make all their effort worthwhile.
The most upset by the whole thing was Charlie however, as he was the one who had to report back to Marcel on their progress...
Unaware that all of this was happening around him, Michael wakes up fresh and early and immediately gets to work on preparing his ambush on the Viscountess. Loutiel had provided a rather detailed account of Anais plans for tomorrow, Michael had wanted to question how he knew about it but the man always dodged his questions, refusing to answer.
Still, regardless of how he got it, Michael now had a comprehensive list of the locations Anais would pass or visit before reaching her final destination. This was key in setting up the ambush on her, as he didn't think he'd be able to fight her and whatever guards she brought in a direct confrontation... She was a mage after all, and the only one he'd actually fought thus far had been Guiche, which didn't really count to be honest.
He glances at the list he'd written out before looking back up at the large building before him. This was 'No-Ratsatouille', a famous ocean-side restaurant which only served the highest echelon. The whole place was apparently enchanted to prevent the smell of sewage and salt from getting in, all while providing a beautiful direct view of the ocean.
It had large decorative stone walls with nice-looking windows that'd obviously been heavily enchanted to provide further protection. It was three stories tall, and had a bar on the rooftop where people could mingle if they wished... This, is where Michael was hoping to strike.
The other locations were good, but they all had a variety of problems in his opinion... Being restricted by their location either because the space was too enclosed or because it was too nearby to the guard barracks, or even too nearby the known Baleine hideouts that Loutiel had thankfully pointed out.
Not to mention he'd already checked them, and found that none had as good of a position as this restaurant did. The open rooftop would allow him to easily snipe the Viscountess from afar and give him enough time to escape.
The only real problem now was finding out a way to get up there without causing alarm... He doubted the restaurant owners would allow him to be there. So he'd need to scale the outside of the building and hide somewhere not visible to the people attending the rooftop bar.
Thankfully, the restaurant's peculiar design, as well as the other nearby buildings made it relatively easy to climb, especially with his rune-enhanced stats.
...
Michael crosses his arms in thought, "Hmm. I doubt I even have enough gold to gain access to the rooftop. So unless I want to risk alerting people, I'll just have to do it on the fly tomorrow. I can always try again if I fail, and if she's too difficult to deal with, I can just flee the city to avoid Loutiel... If that's even necessary..."
He nods to himself, affirming his decision and walking away. "Now... What should I do for the rest of the day? And should I go out again tonight?..." he mutters while glancing around with bored eyes that eventually land on a nearby tavern.
The place was already pretty busy despite it only being around noon. He chuckles to himself, "Well, without technology to help from being bored, of course people would start day drinking..."
To be honest, he was interested in the atmosphere, plus trying proper alcohol for the first time. He didn't want to get drunk, only see what the big deal was about... People made it look like the drink of the gods, so he couldn't hold back his curiosity. Plus, he was interested in hearing people's opinions on the things happening in the continent.
Michael enters the tavern and easily finds an empty table after having the bartender give him the cheapest drink. The table was tucked away at the side of the room, giving him a good view of the place as he tries sipping on his dr-*Cough!*
"*Cough, Cough, Cough!*-Sh-iet... What is this crap?" Michael mutters after catching his breath as he glares down at the flagon filled with murky gold liquid.
A few people nearby notice his situation and laugh at his expense, finding the image of a gloomy-looking teenager choking on some light ale incredibly amusing.
"Oi boi, try keep it down next time! It's rude not to finish a drink you ordered!" a nearby man jokes while laughing with his friends, causing an angry blush to slowly creep across Michael's face.
He scowls down at the drink, "I will conquer you, foul drink." he mentally curses while slowly taking another sip, again barely managing to keep his breakfast down.
Soon enough, the mood of the people watching him turn from amusement, to confusion, to worry, to apathy, as Michael struggles to force down the drink.
*Clunk*
He drops the empty flagon on the table with a victorious expression on his face, a fuzzy feeling in his head, and a burning sensation in his belly. Fortunately, no one was paying him enough attention to notice this amusing sight, allowing him to push the flagon away and listen in on nearby conversations.
Most of what people were talking about were just regular boring gossip, but there were a few interesting topics. Rumours of a hero called 'Batuman' supposedly prowling around at night, which was obviously just Michael's alias.
News had arrived from the capital about Princess Henrietta adopting a 'magicless' noble as her attendant. By her description, Michael instantly recognised her as Louise, which meant she wasn't completely screwed without him.
There was also Fouquet breaking into the academy. She hadn't managed to steal anything but she'd caused a lot of damage nonetheless.
Last but not least was General Gramont supposedly arguing with Princess Henrietta, Duke Valliere, and Cardinal Mazarin. This was probably Michael's fault for causing so much trouble, but there wasn't anything he could do about it now... Aside from assisting Louise indirectly by helping deal with Albion.
Michael had spent around three hours listening to people, so he decided it was time to leave and prepare for another hunt tonight. Thing's should've cooled down now with him absent yesterday, so tonight should be easy pickings.
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Charlie, vice-leader of D'argent under Marcel, stealthily climbs over a second-story rooftop as two of his most trusted men follow him closely behind. The first was an average height man with a thin physique, yet still had managed to acquire a bulky musculature, this was Presot, an orphan who'd been groomed by Charlie and the D'argent gang to become their watchdog. The man was fiercely loyal due to Charlie saving him from an unbelievably dire situation. In Charlie's honest opinion, there was none as loyal as this man.
Not to mention, Presot was an impressive combatant, having trained most of his life to master spearmanship, along with any other skills someone belonging to the criminal underworld might need.
The second, was the hawk-eyed man beside Presot, Rennius. He was slightly taller than Presot, which meant he was significantly taller than Charlie, and was incredibly skilled with a bow. He'd originally been an assassin sent by the Baleine gang to kill Marcel, but after Charlie defeated him, the man pledged his loyalty... Mind you, he still would have been executed had he not made a vow under a Contract of Brimir, which would kill him if he broke his vow.
Despite their lack of magic, both were more than skilled enough to kill a regular mage in combat. If both worked together, they might even be able to kill a trained mage if they got the jump on them. Unfortunately, like most things in this world, there were thing's they couldn't overcome. Any skilled mage would easily decimate someone who lacked magic.
What good is being a master swordsman if the mage can simply melt your blade? What good is being a master archer if a simple wind spell would make all your experience useless?
This was the main reason only assassins or musket men were sent after mages. And also the reason Charlie was accompanying his two subordinates. After all, if this stranger was allowed to continue wreaking havoc on D'argent's forces, there wouldn't be a gang left to save.
The three were all wrapped in cloaked that were enchanted for concealment, hopefully allowing them to get the drop on their enemy. These weren't cheap in the least, but Charlie considered them a necessary expenditure.
"Have any of the patrols sent any signals yet?" Charlie asks as he scans the nearby city rooftops.
"No sir, everything's going accordingly. Same as yesterday." Rennius states.
Charlie frowns, "I don't know how long we'll be able to keep this up... What if the enemy never returns-*Bang!*" he starts but is interrupted as a small explosion occurs in the distance. Instantly, all three knew what it meant. Each patrol had been given small parcels filled with black powder, that they needed to explode if they found the stranger.
Charlie grabs his staff and leads his two subordinates as they sprint towards the location. They hop over a couple of rooftops with the assistance of his magic, and eventually reach a rooftop overlooking the alleyway that had smoke drifting out from it.
It hadn't taken them long to get here, yet... The whole patrol had been wiped out, arrows littered the bodies, and a few of them had black scorch marks covering them, indicating that some kind of magic had been used. "D-damn! That was twenty men! How were they killed so quickly!?" Charlie mutters in disbelief.
"S-sir! Over there!" Rennius quietly exclaims, pointing over at the opposite rooftop where a shadow could be seen leaving.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Michael sighs and rolls his shoulder after he fires an arrow at the last remaining man... This was the most people he'd fought at once, but with his upgraded Ether Shock, steadily improving archery, and a better understanding of ambushing and controlling the enemy. It hadn't been all that difficult.
They had tried to use some kind of makeshift grenade against him, but it missed him entirely and hit the wall below his position. The resulting smoke had obscured his sight slightly, but it wasn't enough to save their lives.
Still, it was loud enough to be a cause for concern, so he decided to quickly leave and find another patrol to get rid of... He still had around 70% of his mana left, so there was no reason to be overcautious... At least, that's what he thought...
"RIP CURRENT!" someone shouts from nowhere, causing water to rapidly form around Michael sweep him back towards the battlefield. The water was too strong for him to resist, so he's easily thrown from the rooftop and back into the alleyway where the D'argent corpses still sat.
He was around three stories up, so if he hit the ground he'd definitely die... He could Hex himself again, but that'd make him easy picking for whatever mage had attacked him. Instead, he draws his dagger and plunges it into the wall he was just about to bounce off of before plummeting, his rune enhanced strength allowing him to barely perforate the wall.
The tip of the blade snaps off almost instantly, but the remains of the blade dig in enough to allow him to slow his descent slightly... Despite his actions however, he was still moving too quickly to avoid injury...
"ICE SHARDS!" another shout sounds out, along with the faint sound of an arrow leaving a bow. Michael's barely able to throw himself from the wall as many dagger-like ice shards collide against the wall, leaving large divots that'd undoubtedly end his life. Along with an arrow that collides with the wall where he'd previously been, before deflecting off uselessly.
Michael plummets around fifteen feet and rolls as he lands, this alleviates a lot of the momentum, but a slight 'crack!' could be heard from the shoulder he'd rolled over. It wasn't broken or anything, but it'd definitely reduce his combat effectiveness...
Michael quickly gets up and runs to a nearby wall while looking up at the rooftop where his three enemies were standing. Each cloaked figure was strangely fuzzy in his vision, but he was easily able to identify their combat capabilities... A mage, archer, and spearman... "Fuck."
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