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31.57% the 01 / Chapter 6: The conspiracy

Capítulo 6: The conspiracy

Priscilla Lombardi had arrived for what would be her last rehabilitation session, the place where she received her treatment was located near the center of the city of Fraxia. The site was an elegant four-story construction belonging to one of the noble families that inhabited the territory.

Unlike the buildings in the slums, the noble houses were built with beautiful stone facades that had been correctly selected and cut for that purpose. Some constructions had wooden beams that fulfilled a decorative function and improved the temperature inside the structures, while the administrative buildings or shops were made of "Mortar", a material that could be obtained with a simple mixture of sand, lime, and water.

To be more precise, it was used to bring the stone together and give it the desired shape, then with the effort of the craftsmen, the carved stone structures resulting from the combination of these two materials were a delight to behold.

In this way, the support pillars that welcomed the visitors of these constructions were magnificent, in them, you could see all kinds of complex carvings and patterns, both the stained glass windows of the constructions and the marble floors deserved a second look from the observers, these were the kind of buildings one would see when visiting the city center of Fraxia.

As Priscilla got out of her carriage, she was met by the familiar sight of Count Freder's office. As usual, the Count's servants welcomed her by helping her out of the carriage.

— "Have a very good morning, My Lady." With incredible elegance the butler who was in charge of receiving the Count's patients welcomed him.

— "Have a very good morning too, Julio." Priscilla took the hand of the butler to facilitate the work of the man who helped her down.

— "Allow me to guide you to the Lord's office." Upon confirming Priscilla had touched the ground safely, the butler will bow while announcing his intentions.

— "Thanks, Julio." Priscilla just followed the butler inside the place.

The place where Count Freder received his patients was extremely elegant, it was a place that was prepared not to inconvenience his visitors since Count Freder only gave medical attention to the high nobility.

It took Priscilla about ten minutes to walk the corridors of the place until she finally reached Count Freder's office. The Butler knocked on the door and after receiving the consent of the person inside, he moved out of the way to allow the guest to enter the place.

— "Oh, welcome, Your Excellency." The Count received his guest with great politeness.

The man in question was going through one of his bookshelves when Priscilla entered the room. His appearance was excellent, to say the least, the 39-year-old man wore a black suit with a white handkerchief decorating one of his pockets, his hair showed some gray from an early age that, along with his generous sideburns and brown eyes, gave him an aristocratic air.

— "How are you, Mr. Freder?" - Priscilla made a routine bow in greeting to the person in front of her.

— "You are probably the only person who does not refer to me as a Count." The man mentioned, as he continued to review one of his books.

— "My apologies. If you don't like me…" Priscilla was stopped by a light laugh.

— "Don't worry, that's not the case. It just seems curious to me that he calls me that way." Count Freder put the book he was holding in place before turning to Priscilla and continuing. "Your treatment ends today; I imagine you must be very happy."

— "It is as it says. I am really happy about my recovery."

— "To be honest, your case is the strangest I've had in my entire career."

— "Is that so?" Priscilla simply asked that question out of courtesy, as she knew better than anyone how strange her situation was.

— "Certainly. I've never heard of anyone whose limbs functioned properly and still couldn't walk. For that reason, I would like to ask you a question.���

— "What can be?"

— "Why did you ask to be helped to walk for long periods of time? From my perspective, that just made my job difficult."

— "I don't know, it just seemed like a good idea."

Priscilla couldn't tell him that somewhere in her memories there was a certain kind of knowledge that told her that this was the best way to go in her particular situation. The normal process would be that a doctor would resort to massaging the patient's limbs or supplying magic to their limbs to speed recovery.

In a world where magic existed, they had simply ignored the body's natural ability to heal itself, the cognitive process that stimulates such recovery was also ignored. In short, if magic couldn't cure a disease, it was classified as incurable.

In Priscilla's memories, there was not only an effective rehabilitation method, there was also all kinds of information that contradicted the knowledge of the doctor in front of her.

— "I see. Well, we'll just do a quick review."

Freder began to massage Priscilla's legs, looking for any damage that would allow him to continue charging the Lombardi family exorbitant sums of money. However, it was evident that her wish would not be heeded, the young woman was in excellent health, so insisting on keeping her in treatment would be suspicious.

— "Everything seems fine." The doctor announced as he leaned on the back of his chair.

— "In that case, I will go and prepare for the celebration tonight." Priscilla got up from a small sofa specially prepared for these kinds of medical attention.

— "Oh, regarding that subject. In the morning a letter arrived from his father." Said the doctor as he went to his desk to get a small letter from the central drawer of the cabinet.

— "Of my father?" Priscilla was genuinely surprised. The doctor simply walked over and handed him a letter stamped with his family's emblem.

Priscilla took the letter in silence, the wax seal was intact and the paper certainly matched the one her father used. However, after opening the letter, she discovered that the handwriting did not match his father's.

This was not a matter of concern, his father did not always write the letters, sometimes he could simply ask one of his assistants to do so. The problem was the content.

In the letter, Priscilla was asked to pick up a shipment from one of her family's properties in the slums. This was not really a problem, what happened is that his father always prohibited him from approaching that place.

After thinking about it carefully for a few seconds. Priscilla came to the conclusion that, due to the preparations for the party, the members of her family cannot attend to the matter regarding the provisions and that is why her father had sent her.

— "Your excellence?" The Count could not resist curiosity as he observed the pensive face of the young woman in front of him.

— "It's nothing, just a commission from my father." Priscilla hurried to put the letter away and produce an unnatural fake smile.

— "I get it. In that case, I am not taking any more time, Your Excellency." Count Freder limited himself to saying goodbye to Priscilla and continuing with his daily work.

Priscilla left the medical consultation room and went to fulfill the request that had been indicated in the letter. Shortly after Priscilla left the consulting room another woman knocked on the door.

— "Ahead." Count Freder gave his approval and the person entered without hesitation.

— "Good work, Count Freder."

— "As requested, deliver the letter you wrote, Your Excellency." The Count expressed the results of the order.

— "That's right, although I must admit that they would have spared me the trouble of doing all this if they had simply poisoned my sister as I previously requested." It was a 20-year-old woman who expressed these dangerous ideas.

— "I understand that the fight for the succession of the high nobility is fierce, but is it necessary to go to these extremes? I mean, if the Duke ever found out that I poisoned his daughter in my office, my reputation would be ruined." Count Freder made a comical gesture with his hands while complaining. "Also, as I understand it, even if His Excellency gets rid of his sister he will not have any right to the succession of the title."

— "I made a deal with my brother, but that is something that does not concern Count Freder."

— "I agree. I'd rather not get involved in this matter more than this." The Count shrugged resignedly as he expressed his ideas.

— "Here's your payment." The woman disdainfully tossed a small bag that made a metallic sound when it fell on the Count's desk.

— "A pleasure doing business with you, Your Excellency Miska." The woman made a gesture of displeasure before leaving the room in an informal way.

—"I'm sorry to do this Miss Priscilla, but this money is worth more than our little friendship." - The Count thought, as he counted the coins in the bag that Miska gave him.


Capítulo 7: The Wanderer

After getting into the carriage that transported her daily, Priscilla showed the contents of the letter to the coachman so that he would take her to fulfill her order. For a second the doubt showed on the coachman's face since his orders specified that this was an area to avoid.

Unfortunately, it was also true that the seal of the Lombardi house was on the letter and it is not strange that a man changes the rules of the game according to his need. After thinking about it for a few seconds, the coachman finally nodded to the request and started driving the carriage that was carrying the Duke's daughter.

After a tour that lasted about half an hour, the float finally reached the slums. The social dissonance between the slums and the city hit Priscilla like a slap in the face.

As she gazed at the landscape behind the carriage window, she could only think of the enormous gap that existed between the life she knew and those of those unfortunate people. The truth was that, at some point, she completely forgot that such a differentiation existed and simply assumed that the entire city was prosperous.

The houses that she observed along the way were in poor condition, many had wooden beams in a state of decay, fabrics instead of windows or doors, it was simply difficult for her to believe that anyone could live in those conditions.

The carriage stopped in front of a gigantic windmill, inside which should have been large quantities of processed grain that was distributed periodically among the inhabitants of the slums.

The blades of the mill followed the orders of the wind to the letter, turning constantly, while the blades inside processed the grain. Next to the mill was a considerable vacant lot that was guarded by just four soldiers.

The coachman stopped the carriage, then got out to open the door for his valuable passenger. The moment he opened the door, an arrow pierced his parietal region, instantly taking his life.

Priscilla, who was about to take the man's hand, was in a momentary state of shock when a small trail of blood splattered on her clothes.

— "Nooo! Mr. Wail! She screamed almost immediately, as she tried to help the person lying in her arms. "Please answer!" No matter how much the girl screamed, the man in her arms would never open his eyes again; not with an arrow piercing his skull.

Soon after another arrow headed straight for Priscilla, fortunately for her, she wasn't exactly a normal person. Priscilla had certain advantages that no one knew about and among those advantages were her monstrous reflexes.

Her kinetics vision was excellent and with the help of that blessing, She managed to react in time to dodge the arrow that, had it not been for his quick reaction, would have stuck right between his two eyebrows.

Sensing danger, he rushed into the safety of the carriage to verify the identity of the attacker from the safety of the carriage. After closing the door, operating the place carefully, there were several attackers and among them were the soldiers who should protect the grain from the mill.

Priscilla had a huge problem on her hands, if she went out to try to move the carriage there was a possibility that an arrow would end her life and if she stayed, it was only a matter of time before those men caught her and killed her in cold blood.

She was running out of options, all the escape methods he could think of were uncertain. It was not until he saw one of the attackers set one of his arrows on fire that he decided to exit through one of the windows of his carriage.

She desperately opened one of the windows, only to find that its size was not adequate to pass through this place.

— "Why can't they make bigger windows? What will I do now? "Priscilla was desperately looking for a way out of this desperate situation.

A hooded young man was a few meters from the scene witnessing what happened, he seemed to be considering whether or not to participate in a scandal. Probably assessing the situation to help the young woman in trouble.

—"An attack on a supply carriage?" he thought aloud. "There seems to be a person inside ... A kidnapping maybe?" That was his first guess until he watched the attackers set their arrows on fire. "I could help her, but that could lead to problems in the future ... Humans are usually not reliable and even if I help her, what will I do once I rescue her?" The hooded man did not know what to do. On the one hand, saving the woman meant exposing her combat capabilities, and on the other, she wasn't the type of person to abandon a person in trouble.

Certainly, the hooded man was extremely cruel in nature, but that only applied to whoever hurt his people. In general, the hooded man was a kind-hearted person.

—"I suppose I can help her and, incidentally, find out the combat capacity of the humans in this city." The hooded man made a detour to take the attackers from behind.

There were a total of 10 armed men, six of them carried swords or daggers, the other four wooden bows.

— "There are two archers in the front and two in the back… I suppose that, if I eliminate those two, the rest will be able to focus their attack on me. Now, what if they are stronger than me? In hooded he was evaluating his options while hiding by the side of the mill. "My best option is to turn this into a singles battle."

With a plan in mind, the hooded man took a stone from the ground and threw it at the archers at the front of the formation so that the entire group could see what happened.

—"Ay! What are you doing?" The stone hit one of the archers on the back of the neck and he turned his gaze to his companions angrily.

—"It wasn't us; someone threw that rock from that direction." One of the men carrying a dagger answered his partner's question while pointing to the mill.

—"We will go check, make sure the target does not escape." Two of the assassins headed in the direction the rock came from.

They checked the back part of the mill only to find that the place was empty. They checked the surroundings, but the place was completely empty.

—"There doesn't seem to be anything."

—"Probably the stone just fell from the top of the mill."

—"That is a possibility ..." One of the assassins simply responded by reflex until he thought that the attacker could very well be hiding somewhere in the mill. "Hey! You set fire to that carriage and when the woman comes out, kill her. We will check the mill."

One of the assassins checked the upper part of the mill and when he did, he heard the sound of a man clicking his tongue in annoyance. He was about to warn his companion when the hooded man jumped from the top of the mill and drove an iron bar that he had collected along the way into the base of the neck of one of the assassins.

The attack was so clean that the assassin did not have time to speak, the deadly iron berra pierced the trapezius muscle, damaging his heart and lungs as it buried itself in his flesh, this caused him instant death. The noise attracted the attention of the other assassin, who could only observe a hand that suddenly appeared right in front of his face.

The attacker surrounded him with great skill and in a mortal embrace, took the killer's wrist and inflicting some mild pain turned the blade towards its owner. It took a few seconds for the killer to come out of surprise. However, by the time he reached it was too late, the attacker was about to pierce his neck with his own weapon.

Soon after, the attacker used his hand to cover the assassin's mouth and stifle his scream, the deadly dagger mercilessly piercing his flesh, and the vital liquid emanated without reservation. No matter how much he fought, he was in a bad position and his strength was only

diminished every second.

—"That went well." The hooded man hugged his desperate prey with a monstrous force until after a few seconds he's prey lost all the strength of his body. Now, it's time to make a distraction; repeating the same strategy won't work…" As he pondered his course of action, a dark smile appeared on his lips. "Well, there is no better distraction than terror." Without mercy, he began to cut off the head of the assassin in his arms. "If that woman is smart, she will use this opportunity to escape. On the other hand, if it is not, it is simply doomed to die. It's not like I'm a hero or anything like that anyway. "

The assassins were about to set fire to the young woman's carriage when a loud sound from the mill caught her attention.

—"It seems that there was someone in the mill after all." After losing interest, the archer prepared to shoot. "Tell those two to hurry up, we don't have much time."

—"Everyone on guard!" One of the assassins screamed to warn his companions,

—"What's going on?"

The instant the archer looked away, he saw the head of one of his companions roll from the back of the mill. It was evident that something or someone had finished off his companions in an extremely cruel way.

His role as the hunter had changed to that of prey, whatever was hiding behind the mill was dangerous enough that two experienced assassins could not fight him.

Fear began to seize their hearts, now they were being attacked and their goal had not been achieved. At times like this, they should prioritize meeting their goal; that was the theory. However, with their lives on the line, concentrating was difficult.

Priscilla was extremely scared, her options were running out, and it seemed that the carriage would burn like embers in an oven in the near future. Then a loud scream could be heard outside.

With great caution he looked out the window of the carriage to find two people lying on the floor, it was difficult to see what was happening from where he was, so he moved to another window.

She didn't know what was going on outside, but it was her chance to escape. He didn't bother to think twice, seizing the opportunity, he kicked the carriage door and ran towards one of the houses that were near the area.

—"She's escaping." One of the archers prepared an arrow. "Kill her!". One of the assassins screamed.

On the other side of the mill, an iron rod was thrown, piercing the back of the head of the archer's head as if the iron rod was a sharp spear. The archer's body collapsed and the arrow he had thrown completely missed its target.

Priscilla only heard the macabre sounds of combat. Her heart was racing more with each passing second and the oxygen was beginning to lack.

—"Show yourself!" One of the assassins demanded. "Don't think you will escape alive after what you've done." He proclaimed threateningly.

In response to his request, one of the doors of the mill was opened, but what came out of it was not a person. Instead, he and his team were buried by a gigantic mountain of processed grain.

The weight of the grain had knocked down the assassins and left them in a vulnerable position, some being mowed down by the dust that had filled their eyes and others struggling to free their bodies to fight. However, a hooded stranger fell from the top of the mill.

The man in question looked like a homeless man and he certainly stank like one, the huge smile that decorated his face couldn't be seen, but it was easy to tell that he was happy from his light laugh.

—"Well, I planned to use this distraction to withdraw, but since I've had such good luck." He took one of the swords buried in the grain and mercilessly stabbed one of the assassins. "That was the 4th, six left"

The men were at the mercy of the hooded man, who did not bother to gloat at all. He simply advanced killing the murderers so as not to leave any loose ends. That way, they would only know that someone without a name ended up with an entire group of murderers.

Or that was his thought, until he realized something. When the last assassin breathed his last, the hooded man reflected on what had happened.

— "Certainly there are no witnesses, but… What happens if someone inside the houses saw me? Should I kill them too? Well, next time I'll just change my clothes. I don't have to hurt people who haven't done anything to me anyway. "

The hooded man was about to leave the terrible and bloody scene that he had created when an unexpected voice stopped his steps.

—"Stop there!" It was the woman who should have escaped. The woman raised a sword threatening to attack the hooded man.

— "Why are you wasting your luck? If you had left without saying anything, I wouldn't have had to get rid of you." The hooded man sighed heavily at the actions of the woman in front of his eyes.

— "Who sent you to kill me? Was it one of my brothers?" Priscilla was not so stupid as not to realize that her brothers had wanted her dead for a long time. Still, she didn't want to believe it, didn't want to believe that the people she called family would do something so cruel.

— "Even if I knew I wouldn't tell you. Especially when you demand it with shaking hands like that. "

Only then did Priscilla notice that her hands were shaking, she was extremely nervous. For starters, she was in a dangerous situation and added to the fact that she had never killed anyone, her nervousness was simply immeasurable.

—"I will pretend that I have not seen you and I will continue on my way, I suggest you do the same." The hooded man ignored the trembling young woman and turned to move in a different direction.

Priscilla could only watch him as her frustration grew, the scene reminding her of her tragic past.

- "How can I get revenge on him if I can't even face this guy? And to think that all those people called someone like me heroin? In the end, I couldn't save anyone… "Priscilla's thoughts grew more and more chaotic. "Lain is so much scarier than this guy. How could I even think of getting revenge on him if I can't even face this man?" Priscilla couldn't take it anymore.

He gathered all his resolve and clenched the fists that held the sword. After taking a deep breath of air, he finally screamed without reservation.

—"Stop!"

The hooded man thought about ignoring the woman when he felt the ominous aura coming from her. The hooded man had felt that in the past, that kind of aura belonged to those people who were called heroes before their lands were destroyed.

His footsteps stopped and his eyes widened. In a situation like that, it was simply impossible for him to hide his hostility, his thirst for blood could no longer be suppressed. Not with one of the heroes so close to him.

—"It seems that I have been somewhat rude." The hooded man seemed cordial when he turned around, but a person with good perception abilities was immediately aware of the danger. "By any chance, you could be one of them...?" His question was interrupted by a scream that echoed in the distance.

—"Defend our Lady!"

The Lombardi family's personal guard had appeared on the horizon and they were moving at high speed to protect the daughter of the landlord. With the arrival of the soldiers, an indescribable feeling attacked Priscilla's body. The security gave him a feeling of calm such that the force left his body, causing him to pass out.

—"My Lady!" The Lombardi family security guardian shouted his Master's name.

The fainted Priscilla was at the mercy of the attacker; the presence of the soldiers did not change anything. The hooded man simply wondered if killing or the young woman at that moment was worth it or not.


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