Re: Tales of the Rune-Tech Sage-Chapter 525: Fortuna Departs

CH525 Fortuna Departs

***

Bam!

Mogal dumped the body of the man known as Raven Horn onto the cold, hard ground.

Alex calmly pulled a chair over and sat in front of the ’unconscious’ guide.

"Alright, you’ve had your fun. Drunk or not, you can’t expect me to believe I managed to knock out a Combat Master with a single punch," Alex said with a chuckle.

"Haha!"

Laughter burst out from the supposedly unconscious man.

"When did you notice?" Raven Horn asked as he pushed himself into a sitting position.

The man could probably have broken the bindings at any moment, but he didn’t. Instead, he remained seated on the ground like a cooperative prisoner.

"From the start," Alex replied. "Besides, even if I somehow managed to drop someone your size, there’s no way you wouldn’t have woken up by now."

"Hmm..." Raven Horn nodded thoughtfully. Then he peered at Alex. "You speak like a man with experience. This can’t be the first time you’ve captured someone."

"Maybe... maybe not," Alex replied lightly.

"Is that so...?" Raven Horn muttered. His eyes glinted. "I’m starting to wonder if you’re really a noble just wearing a rogue’s garb, or a true rogue pretending to be a noble."

Alex shrugged.

"Noble, rogue... what difference does it make in the grand scheme of things? They are both just different paths that lead to the same similar goal."

He shook his head.

"Let’s cut the chatter, shall we? I didn’t organise the impromptu tavern festivities just to trade philosophy," he said. "I need an understanding of the surrounding region. Beast distribution, danger zones, routes, anomalies. Things I should watch for."

Raven Horn folded his arms despite the bindings.

"I’m not in the business of leading people to their deaths," he said flatly. "A beast tide just rolled through. The land will be crawling with strays, mutants, scavengers, and vermin. You’re better off waiting a few weeks for things to calm down."

Alex reached into the inner breast pocket of his coat.

He pulled out a folded sheet marked with an emblem.

"This is a personal note from Dragonstone’s Adventurer association branch master, Wayne Achard. It authorises us to investigate the cause of the recent beast tide. I believe this should suffice as proof of capability," Alex said.

"Besides, he was the one who recommended you to me. I’d like to believe he wouldn’t do that if he didn’t think my party could at least keep ourselves alive."

"Well, if you put it that way..."

Raven Horn casually snapped the bindings on his wrists.

Mogal, Kavakan and Havel immediately shifted into guarded stances.

The guide ignored them.

Instead, he looked at Alex with a surprisingly serious expression.

"Then we’d better start. First, you’ll need a map."

Alex brought out the map Wayne had given him and spread it between them.

Raven stared at it, his gaze deepening.

"The branch master must trust you a great deal to hand this over," he said. "Don’t flash it around. Out here, this is worth more than gold."

Alex inclined his head, taking the warning to heart.

"So," Raven continued, leaning forward, "here’s what you need to know..."

His finger moved across the parchment.

He pointed out specific areas, listing dangers, territorial patterns, recent sightings, and strange changes. Several of the details weren’t marked on the official map at all, forcing Alex to pull out a pen and annotate them on the map himself.

The rest he just committed to memory.

"If the berserk humans are gathering northeast of the route to Blood Iron, then the most likely point is here."

Raven tapped a patch of desert land on the map.

"I don’t know what’s there," he admitted, "but something about that place is wrong."

"Sounds like you’ve been there." Alex raised an eyebrow. "Then why haven’t you checked it properly?"

"You think I didn’t?" Raven shot him a look of disdain. "I went. Twice. Found nothing."

He looked back to the map.

"That probably means whatever’s there isn’t meant for me. Maybe the berserk humans—or you—will have better luck."

Alex didn’t press further.

’Fate, fortune, compatibility... things always seem to come down to these since we arrived in the Wildlands,’ he mused silently.

"Thanks for the information," he said instead.

"Yeah," Raven snorted, "thank me by not throwing your lives away."

"We’ll do our very best," Alex replied easily. "We value our necks more than you do, after all."

Alex signalled to Kavakan.

The hulking weretiger stepped forward and placed a crate of wine between them.

"As per your usual fee, as I am told— a box of fine wine and a worthwhile bout," Alex said calmly. "Paid and delivered."

Raven pulled the crate closer and rummaged through its contents.

He nodded in satisfaction.

"It is indeed fine wine," he admitted. "However, you still owe me a worthwhile bout."

"No," Alex replied evenly. "The worthwhile bout was the down payment we made to bring you here."

"Wha—?"

Raven froze.

Then understanding dawned.

"The tavern fight?" he asked.

"Indeed," Alex smiled.

Raven stared at him for a long second.

Then he burst out laughing.

"Haha! Well played."

He grabbed the crate and walked off as if nothing strange had happened.

Alex’s men exchanged glances as the man who had supposedly been their captive undid his own bindings and casually left with his payment tucked under his arm.

The entire affair was bizarre.

For the sake of their sanity, they focused on the only part that mattered.

They had obtained the information they needed.

Alex and the expedition party spent the next three days stocking supplies and preparing for their investigation into the berserk human sightings.

When everything was ready, Fortuna departed Dragonstone Oasis.

It was their first mission since registering under the Adventurer Association.

In the early hours of the morning, just as sunrise broke across the horizon, the party passed through the gates and headed towards the wilds.

One man watched them leave.

From the window of his office, Wayne Achard stood with his hands behind his back, eyes following the retreating figures.

Behind him sat another familiar presence at the desk.

Raven Horn.

Only this time, the man no longer looked like a drunken vagrant. His clothes were neat, his hair tied back, his posture that of a proper gentleman— at least, as proper as the wastelands allowed.

"What do you think of him?" Wayne asked without turning.

"Not much," Raven shrugged. "I only spoke to him for a few minutes. He didn’t feel like a typical noble— I can say that for sure."

He paused.

"Whether that’s good or bad, I can’t say." He then said.

Wayne returned to his desk and sat down across from the guide.

"I’m asking whether you support Luth’s proposal," Wayne said, his voice lowering, "to send him to that place."

"Does my opinion matter?" Raven Horn snorted. "The fact that you sent him to me after speaking with our dear Baron, and then him, means you’ve already been convinced."

He spread his hands.

"At that point, my thoughts are irrelevant."

Wayne slowly moved his head and fixed him with a flat stare.

Raven met it.

But only for a moment.

Then he raised both palms in surrender.

"Fine, fine. You win," he muttered.

He leaned back in his chair.

"Personally, I don’t have much of an opinion about him. This isn’t the first time we’ve sent people to that place. None of them have ever succeeded."

His expression grew a little colder.

"We may be the guardians who veil it. We may be the ones who choose who gets sent there. But in the end, the final, most important decision isn’t ours to make."

He tapped the table lightly.

"It’s up to the candidate to pass the trial."

A humourless smile tugged at his lips.

"If he can’t pass it, like the other fools from the Safe Haven drunk on the comfort of their little bubble, then whatever I think of him doesn’t matter."

Raven shrugged.

Wayne sighed.

"As usual, expecting a proper conversation from you was too much."

He reached into his desk and pulled out a sheet of paper, quickly jotting something down.

Then—

Whistle!

A falcon materialised from nowhere and swooped in through the open window, landing neatly on Wayne’s arm.

He folded the letter and secured it in the carrier attached to the bird’s leg.

"To Baron Luth Belloc," Wayne ordered.

The falcon launched itself back through the window into the sky without hesitation, vanishing as mysteriously as it had appeared.

Wayne watched it go, then exhaled slowly and rubbed his temples before turning back to Raven Horn.

There were more sensitive matters to discuss.

A few hours later, in Ostmont City, a falcon descended silently onto the desk of Baron Luth Belloc.

The Baron removed the letter from the carrier and dismissed the bird.

He read the contents once.

Then again.

And a third time.

As if engraving every word into memory.

Only after that did he hold the paper to a candle flame and watch it burn to ash.

He returned to his seat and rotated it towards the window, eyes drifting over the city beyond.

"And so it begins," he murmured.

***

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