Thief of Time

Three men were yelling at each other by the time Claud and Isolde stormed into Triple-D. One of them was the bartender, who had stepped out of the counter and was protecting the sleeping Risti. He was waving the metal stick in his hands around, and as the two entered the bar, Claud could spot relief flash through his face.

“Is that your support, huh?” One of the two men staring down the barkeeper hiccupped. “One chick and one playboy, huh? If that’s all, you should stand aside and let me make this sleeping chick here happy! Get out of the way!”

“Exactly!” The man standing beside him added. “Little bartender, scram to the side! My master wants this chick tonight!”

Before Claud could say anything, Isolde had stepped forward. Drawing a sword from her side, a pale blue light wrapped around the blade. Claud’s eyes widened for a moment — he recognised that particular energy wrapped around the sword!

It was mana. The ability to manifest mana was a hallmark of mana-users and people with the Mana Manipulation skill or its derivatives, except that the latter allowed for very complex operations with mana to create spells.

For mana-users, however, mana was used to deliver a beatdown to their target, and nothing else. For this reason, their skills tended to be very weird, since they had inherently high combat power.

Claud licked his lips. Once again, a good show looked like it was unfolding.

“A mana-user?” The first man who had spoken took a few steps back. “What, you her guard or something? You must be nothing much, then. My bed can fit five people, so why not join us?”

Blue light flashed, and a solid tremor shook the bar. Isolde had moved, but surprisingly enough, her attack had not drawn blood. The second man, the one who called the first one his master, had blocked the attack with a sword…which was also alight with blue light.

“A dog like you dares to attack—”

A glass cup slammed into the back of his head, and the man wobbled. Before he could do anything else, utensils of all kinds shot over, breaking apart into sharp fragments. Claud hid a smile; the other patrons of this bar never took kindly to actions and attitudes like these, and now that Isolde had made the first move, they didn't hesitate to pile on.

Before Isolde could even slash out a second time, the mana-user that had stood in front of his master had crumpled over. His head was bleeding all over, and from his shallow breathing, Claud could tell that the idiot was on the verge of death. Mana-users had incredible advantages, but they were very much human.

“Isolde,” said Claud, “remember my conversation with you earlier on? Yes. This is what I mean when I said that one-folders can be taken into custody by uh, vanillas. Of course, in this case, he’s probably dead meat, but that’s kinda beside the point.”

He grinned and turned to the first man, whose face was now whiter than a bedsheet. “So…who are you anyway?”

“I-I am the son of Baron Aoro! If you don’t beg for forgiveness—”

Claud winced as a white plate broke on his head. The big idiot stumbled, but before he could do anything else, Isolde had closed the gap. Grabbing him by the neck, she raised him to the air, and his face grew purple within seconds.

Isolde looked around. “Do you mind if I deal with this?”

“Sure,” said the bartender. “Count Nightfall hates fools like this anyway. Kill him, castrate him, whatever. The count will put his foot down if Baron Aoro sends someone over…of course, if everyone here doesn’t say anything, it’ll be even more interesting.”

“Interesting?” Isolde asked.

Claud shook his head. “That baron would storm up to Licencia, asking for an explanation, only to be captured and executed by Count Nightfall. It’s happened a few times before.”

“Apples don’t fall far from the tree,” Isolde replied. “Might as well uproot the whole thing entirely.”

“Wait, wait! Don’t kill me! My father’s Baron Aoro! You won’t die a good death, you’d—”

Isolde lowered the man, and then whispered something to him. Claud couldn’t quite hear what she said, but her words had provoked a panicked reaction, more than enough to chase the drunkenness away. Before the son of Baron Aoro could do so much as a kick, however, Isolde had twisted her right arm furiously, and a sickening crack followed.

The man’s head hung at an unnatural angle, and Claud shivered at the sight.

“Where should I dispose of him?” Isolde asked, her face a mask of impassiveness. “Do I put him in the trash pile?”

“Just bring it to my counter,” said the bartender. “I’ll settle the rest.”

He clapped his hands twice, and two people raced out. Sweeping up the shattered fragments of cutlery and whatnot, they soon restored Triple-D to its lively state, but not before the bartender sent out a round of drinks for everyone present.

“Two less scum in this world, I guess.” Claud stretched his back. “Just your everyday sight in Licencia.”

“Everyday?!”

“Well, since Licencia is the City of Trades,” said Claud, “some people think that professions” —he made some air quotes— “happen to include murderers, rapists, blackmailers, profligates and cheaters. So things like these happen every so often.”

He shrugged. “On average, we have some fools like this once every week. Sometimes, they come from baronies, other times from small business empires. But it just doesn’t work like that here.”

“Just how many such people have died here?”

“Too many for me to care about,” Claud replied, stifling a yawn. “Well, that little scuffle’s interesting, but it’s really late. I’ll probably wander off for sleep now. Remember that you owe me a manual or whatever. If you can’t find me here, just leave it with him.”

Rubbing his neck, Claud waved goodbye to the bartender, and then left the bar.

For better or worse, he’d found out details about just how these quadruplets intended to use the bartender’s network to find out about Tot, which was an unexpected harvest. Fortunately, of the four of them, only one looked like she was a professional bounty hunter; the less time they spent together, the better.

For one, beautiful women attracted lots of attention. If they weren’t in Triple-D, where the patrons had long learnt to deal with fools together, a fight would definitely have broken out. Count Nightfall’s soldiers would be involved, he would be dragged into a bothersome affair, and they might be having prison food for the next three days while the authorities sorted out the mess.

“Hey!” A voice called out from behind him.

Claud turned to Isolde. “What?”

“Where can I find you?”

“At Triple-D, but I might not show up for the next few days,” Claud replied.

Or, he added in his mind, until this whole Tot mess is forgotten. I give it a month or so, when someone else is caught and framed. This sudden idea of mine to check on how the search for me proved to be a lot more troublesome than I thought.

“I…see.” Isolde frowned. “I was intending to ask you for more help, but…”

“I’m not all that interested,” Claud replied. “If I caught Tot, I’d just be doing a service for the nobles. I won’t be able to claim the prize anyway. More importantly, it’s too much trouble for someone as lazy as me.”

Isolde sighed. “Well, if you ever change your mind, you can find me.”

“Thanks for the offer.” Claud yawned again, making sure to act as natural as possible. It didn’t seem possible for Isolde and her sisters to track him down, but it was better to be as cautious as possible. Besides, two-fold mana-users were probably on their way to the City of Trades too; it wouldn’t be long before more and more experts showed up here. A single suspicious word or action to Isolde and company could spell his end.

Waving goodbye, he headed back to his apartment. Behind him, Isolde pulled a sleeping Risti along to the inn, and as he turned the corner, Claud could only hope that they would never see each other again.

Now that he’d personally witnessed the first few mana-users arrive in Licencia, Claud couldn’t help but feel wary about the future. Was it a better idea to just hole up in his home and never walk out? Or to flee Licencia while the big shots were stirring?

He wasn’t quite sure yet.

However, there was one thing he knew for certain, and that was that he’d secured a nice trove of lifestones on this excursion today. Even if he wanted to leave his house, he would only do so after absorbing all of them…which meant that he wasn’t going to see this Isolde for quite some time.

Looking up into the night sky, where only one moon was shining, he doubled his walking speed and made for home. This was Licencia, the City of Trades...and the city where anything could happen.

It was best to hide for the next few weeks.