Chương 29: Chapter 28 - The Targets

On the pristinely clean floor of Mr. Jester's room inside The Bumbling Magician, the brightly dressed man produced five pieces of paper from somewhere behind his back and laid them out on the floor in front of Ren. On each of the sheets was a disturbingly lifelike drawing of a different person, rendered with such detail that Ren felt like the eyes might blink if he stared too long, but what caught him off guard even more was that he already knew three of the five. Mr.

Jester watched Ren's reaction with clear enjoyment.

"Some of this city's leaders are turning to the Abyss," he said casually, nudging his large glasses to sit better on his nose, "and normally, I wouldn't care one bit, but I have reason to believe Medici is involved" The mention of that name made Ren's mind wriggle uncomfortably again. He inhaled a shaky breath and wiped more sweat off of his forehead.

"So what you're going to do," Mr. Jester continued, his grin widening as he tapped each of the papers, "is go in and mess with his plans. Disrupt the Cult of the Abyss' activities and make things generally uncomfortable for them." The jester swayed backwards and spread his hands wide, like an artist revealing his masterpiece.

"And when he finally pokes his head out, I'll swoop in and kill him."

"Maybe after calling in a coooouple friends, because that guys is mean." Ren stared at him.

"So I'm just supposed to cause trouble?"

"That's the base of it, yes," Mr. Jester said cheerfully, sitting back up.

"You're smarter than you look." He ignored the uncalled-for jab and pressed on, some relief slipping into his chest as he asked, "So I won't have to kill anyone...?"

"You will!" the jester responded with a bright smile.

"That'll be the most efficient way to cause trouble, and you gotta be quick, yes? Your friends are just a hop, skip, and a jump away! Slowly making their way to Pyreridge Bastion as we speak!" Ren forced down the growing weight in his stomach. Killing a person? He honestly didn't know if he could bring himself to do it, even if he recognised three of the people on the papers laid on the floor personally.

"Here are the targets," Mr. Jester said, turning his attention back to the papers laid out in front of them, staring at the one farthest to the right before promptly scrunching it up and tossing it aside.

"Oh! I already killed that guy! That's what I was supposed to be doing before I saved you and your gang!" He then pointed to the one farthest to the left. It depicted a bald, sturdy man with a bronze complexion and a stern expression, wearing grey plate armour emblazoned with the symbol of the Eternal Flame, that same sun nestled in flame.

"This guy is newest Flameguard captain of The Crossroads," Mr. Jester explained.

"His name is Elroy."

"Who knows what happened to the old one, though he did mysteriously go missing riiight before our friend Elroy came to power, so it can't have been good for his health." His finger slid across to the next page, and this time, Ren didn't need the jester to introduce her at all.

"Lady Darla," he said in a flat voice.

"Exactly!" Mr. Jester sounded proud of him.

"She is the Head Firekeeper around these parts, but since you're apparently already acquainted with her, we'll move on."' Yeah,'Ren thought, his jaw tightening on its own as he wiped yet more sweat from his forehead, an admittedly annoying task with the shackles still binding his wrists.' I'm very well acquainted with her.' He doubted he could forget the person who sold them out to the Cult anytime soon. Ren recognised the drawing on the next paper as well.

A large beastfolk man with a sneering smile, an eyepatch that covered a scar over one eye, and a thick build, and that massive sword that looked too heavy for anyone to wield without being inhumanly strong strapped to his back. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

"Esteban," Mr. Jester said, "leader of a mercenary band called The Black Hawks." Ren stared at the page, remembering the way Esteban had beaten Varrin so quickly, and with a smile on his face at that. He hadn't even seen him use his Soul Power.' How am I supposed to beat that?

'Ren thought.' How am I supposed to kill him while being as weak as I am?' He already knew the answer, of course, and it was a simple enough one at that: get stronger. Still, it did leave Ren wondering...

"Just how strong are these people, exactly?" he asked, right as Mr. Jester was about to move on and explain the final paper. The brightly dressed man looked up and smiled an equally bright smile.

"Everyone here is an Ascended ranked Blessed." Ren froze, the sweat that had begun to soak through his clothes turning ice-cold, but before he could get so much as a word out, Mr. Jester carried on, looking as though he were savouring every second of this.

"And yes, that does mean that you might be a little in over your head taking these guys on as just an Awakened." He shrugged.

"But what choice do you have?"' You set it up like this!' Ren exhaled through his nose and moved on.

"What about the last one? That's the preacher in the square right?"

"Ding, ding, ding!" Mr. Jester laughed happily as he tapped the final paper with one gloved finger.

"We've both already met this one." The drawing was of the somewhat familiar gaunt man in thin clothing with grungy hair and hollow, feverish eyes—someone who looked like he hadn't slept properly in years. A moment of silence stretched between them, and Ren wiped more sweat away just as Mr. Jester clasped his hands together.

"So," the brightly dressed man said, removing his glasses as he stood up, "how are you going to go about this? And who are you going to take out first?" Ren stared down at the papers, his mind feeling as though it had been stuffed full of stones rather than the brilliant plans he so desperately needed. The latter part was true enough, at least.

"Uhh…"

"Have you got any suggestions or tips?" he asked, looking up at Mr. Jester. The question coming out more sheepish than he wanted.

"Hahaha!" Mr. Jester laughed, real tears forming in his eyes.

"Why of course, my little protégé! I can't have you dying now!" He spun and pointed at Ren.

"First thing's first, you—Oh! What's wrong with you?" Ren was breathing heavily now, each and every breath an effort to draw in. Worse still, he felt both very hot and really cold at the same time, his clothes by now soaked clean through with sweat.

"I don't know... maybe I just need some sleep?"

"No, no, no, little protégé! You're beginning to experience essence overexpenditure!" Mr. Jester said with a click of his tongue.

"It's those shackles, I forgot to take them off for you. Oops~" The brightly dressed man knelt down beside Ren and placed a hand on both sets of shackles, exploding them in a cloud of confetti a heartbeat later. Instantly, Ren felt a wave of relief wash over him as the steady flow of essence draining from his body finally came to a stop. His breathing began to ease with every passing second, and the awful sensation of being both hot and cold gradually faded as his temperature settled back to normal.'

Is that what Elowen felt like?' he thought, rubbing his wrists.

"You were in that cage for quite a while," Mr. Jester mused, "you must be pretty resilient when it comes to your essence."

"What does that mean?" Ren asked with genuine curiosity.

"I dunno," the jester responded, shrugging.

"Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes!" He spun and wagged a finger dramatically.

"I have to help you! Especially now that I have a protégé before Miss Knight does, hahaha! Listen closely now."

"Both Lady Darla and the Flameguard captain are very important figures in this city as well as its piece of the Cult of the Abyss, so while killing them first will definitely bring chaos… the others will almost assuredly go into hiding."

"And if that chaos isn't enough," he added lightly, "Then that guy won't show his face..."' That just leaves two left,' Ren analysed, and he already knew which one he wanted to fight first.

"The preacher then?" Mr. Jester nodded like it should've been obvious.

"While they are both Ascended, Esteban is the leader of a mercenary band, and what we can pertain from that is that he possesses a Soul Power oriented around either combat… or a form of leadership." His pacing slowed, and his grin sharpened again.

"The preacher, however, spends his time proselytising instead of fighting."

"Based on all this," Mr. Jester declared, "I would pursue the librarian first, but the choice is yours little protégé?!" Ren swallowed hard. The jester's deduction seemed entirely on point, more than enough to solidify his decision against going after Esteban as his very first pick.

"I'll go with the preacher then," he said, standing.

"So, uhh… where do I start?"

"That's for you to figure out, little protégé," Mr. Jester smiled brightly.

"Because I've got an epic to write!" He suddenly spun around and produced an entire wooden desk seemingly from thin air, easily two metres in length and crafted from thick, expertly carved wood, its surface polished to a warm shine and its edges lined with intricate flourishes. He slammed it down before Ren with a heavy thunk. Mr. Jester didn't stop there, however, drawing out an equally well-crafted chair from behind him and settling into it before producing a large tome, a quill, and a pot of ink.

He then promptly sat down and began scratching furiously across the pages as though his life depended on it. Ren stared at him for a couple of minutes before sighing and heading toward the door.' Just hold on, guys,'he thought, his mind drifting to his friends.' I'll finish this as fast as I possibly can.'