Chương 20: Intelligence Gathering

With little reason to remain within the man's backpack any longer, I decided it was finally time to continue my journey on my own. More importantly, I wished to discover the true purpose of those peculiar metal collars I had seen earlier. As my unwitting carrier passed through a narrow gap between two buildings, I seized the opportunity.

Before making my move, I carefully surveyed my surroundings, noting that only a handful of villagers occupied the nearby street and that none appeared to be paying any attention in my direction. Satisfied that the risk of discovery was acceptably low, I slipped from the opening in the backpack, landed on the ground, and deliberately rolled into the alley. Once between the buildings, I paused to confirm that no curious eyes had followed me.

Once I again confirmed that nobody was looking, I lowered my gaze beneath myself and used Psy-Push, launching my body upward. While still ascending, I fired a strand of silk toward the edge of the nearest rooftop. The thread caught securely, and I swung through the air before colliding lightly against the wall. From there, I began the slow but steady climb upward. Although my body remained frustratingly slow, combining psionics with my silk allowed me to overcome that limitation to some extent.

After reaching the rooftop, I continued traversing the village by repeatedly firing strands of silk between buildings, crawling across each roof before repeating the process. Before long, I arrived atop a building situated directly beside the Adventurer's Guild, where I finally possessed an excellent vantage point from which to observe both the guild itself and the individuals bearing those metal collars. As I remained still, I felt my body fade as Phantom Veil took effect.

And with both invisibility and intangibility protecting me, I felt confident that I could study the village without fear of discovery. I remained on that rooftop for several hours, carefully observing everyone who entered and departed the Adventurer's Guild, yet not a single additional individual wearing one of those peculiar metal collars emerged from the building. The absence of further examples suggested that such people were rarer than I had initially assumed, which deepened my curiosity.

The first explanation that came to mind was that such collars belonged to slaves, though I found that conclusion somewhat unsatisfying. While it certainly remained possible, I struggled to reconcile it with what I had witnessed. The collared individual I saw before had walked freely through the village without an armed escort, chains, or any visible attempt to prevent escape. So, perhaps the collars represented some unusual mark of prestige or membership, awarded only after accomplishing a noteworthy feat.

Yet that explanation seemed equally questionable. A collar had long been associated with ownership and submission, not honor. It was difficult to imagine any rational individual viewing such an object as a desirable symbol of achievement, regardless of what privileges it might supposedly convey. If I wished to uncover the truth, then I would need to investigate the matter directly. My next course of action became obvious. I would infiltrate the Adventurer's Guild itself and observe its occupants from within.

If those collared individuals spent little time outside the building, then perhaps the guild's interior would provide me with answers. From my elevated position, I checked the Adventurer's Guild for a suitable point of entry. Several windows existed, but most proved unsuitable. Some were shuttered, while others overlooked busy sections of the village where attempting to enter would have been reckless.

But, I eventually saw how near the rear corner of the second floor, there was a single window standing partially open. Judging from the occasional flutter of the curtains, whoever occupied that room likely cared more for fresh air than security. Better still, the window overlooked a narrow alley rather than the bustling street, meaning very few people would have reason to glance at a tiny caterpillar making her way in. After remembering the window through which I intended to enter, I began making my way toward it.

I climbed to the edge of the rooftop before lowering myself toward the ground on a strand of silk, descending slowly. Once I reached the ground, I crawled across the street, advancing only when the surroundings permitted it. Whenever someone wandered too close, I immediately stopped, allowing Phantom Veil to conceal my presence until the passerby continued on their way. Progress was admittedly slow, but eventually, I arrived beneath the chosen window and slipped inside.

The room beyond was more refined than I had expected from a village of this size. Shelves lined one wall, filled with neatly arranged books and ledgers, while a sturdy desk was at the center of the room. Whether this room served as a study, an administrative office, or both, I had little doubt that its owner occupied a position of at least some importance within the guild. My attention soon settled upon an open journal resting atop the desk beside an uncapped bottle of ink and an abandoned quill.

The scene suggested that its owner had left in haste. That realization pleased me considerably, for it implied they would almost certainly return before long. Waiting for the rightful owner to open the door themselves was vastly preferable to attempting to force my way deeper into the guild through psionics, a method that struck me as both inelegant and unnecessarily exhausting. Though of course, I'd gladly resort to psionics if I was forced to. Curiosity soon overcame any inclination to remain idle.

I fired a strand of silk toward the ceiling and swung onto the desk before releasing the thread. The journal proved every bit as interesting as I had hoped. Rather than containing anything personal, its pages consisted largely of administrative records concerning the guild's provisions, inventories, and preparations for an upcoming inspection by specially appointed inspectors of the Elven Empire.

While I skimmed only a small portion of its contents, the nature of the documents strongly suggested that this office belonged either to the guildmaster himself or to another individual responsible for overseeing the guild's daily administration. Given the relatively modest size of this settlement, however, I suspected those positions were likely one and the same.

A village guild hardly possessed the luxury of dividing every responsibility among numerous officials, and I imagined its guildmaster was required to fulfill several roles at once. During my reign, Adventurers' Guilds throughout the civilized world had existed as fiercely independent institutions governed by the united Adventurers' World Council, whose representatives came from every major guild across the continent. Their independence granted them privileges that few organizations could rival.

The guilds themselves were exempt from taxation, were allowed to remain politically neutral in nearly every conflict involving their host nation, and possessed the exclusive authority to appoint or remove their own guildmasters. This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. Personally, I had never been particularly fond of granting any organization so much independence.

By the time I ascended the throne, however, the Adventurers' Guild had become so deeply rooted within society that attempting to dismantle or even meaningfully reform it would have provoked enormous resistance from both the common people and the nobility alike.

Many nobles had grown thoroughly dependent upon adventurers to perform countless tasks they either could not or simply preferred not to undertake themselves, and I had already spent no small amount of political capital antagonizing the aristocracy through my other reforms. That was precisely why I found the journal's mention of imperial inspectors so fascinating.

The notion that the Adventurers' Guild now submitted itself to inspections conducted by officials of the Elven Empire suggested that the guild's famed independence had been significantly eroded. I could not help but find the irony rather amusing. An institution that had once resisted interference from even the greatest human empires was now compelled to answer to elven bureaucrats. While the irony entertained me, the implications were considerably less amusing.

If the elves had managed to exert such influence over one of the world's most independent organizations, then their authority might as well be unmatched. It appeared I had allowed my thoughts to wander for rather longer than intended, for before long I heard the sound of approaching footsteps echoing along the corridor beyond the office. Ordinarily, such a development would have made me want to retreat.

Fortunately, Phantom Veil had rendered such frantic escapes largely unnecessary, provided I possessed the patience to remain still. As such, I stayed at my current position and allowed the Trait to cloak both my body and my presence. Being invisible gave me the opportunity to observe and listen to whatever is going to happen next, and should an opportunity present itself, I could always try and escape then. The door soon creaked open, and the person who I assumed is the room's owner stepped inside.

He appeared to be a man somewhere in his middle years. A slight potbelly strained gently against his dark blue cloak, while his bald head was quite difficult to look away from. In contrast to his otherwise somewhat weary appearance, his beard had been trimmed with obvious care, framing his face neatly and lending him an air of professionalism despite the fatigue visible beneath his eyelids. But, the first detail that truly captured my attention lay not in his appearance but around his neck.

Encircling it was the same peculiar metal collar I had glimpsed earlier outside the Adventurer's Guild. Now that I observed one from only a few feet away, I could examine it in greater detail. The collar itself lacked any visible seam or obvious locking mechanism from my vantage point. More intriguing still, I noticed a number engraved on its surface: III. The significance of the marking immediately piqued my curiosity. It was far too deliberate to be decorative, which suggested some form of classification or rank.

Whether the numeral represented authority, occupation, social standing, or something altogether more troubling remained impossible to determine for now though. Following several steps behind the man came a boy who appeared to be no older than fourteen or fifteen years of age. He had short blond hair and striking blue eyes that continuously looked around the room with restrained curiosity. He wore light adventuring attire, and a sheathed sword rested comfortably at his hip.

At first glance, I would have thought this boy might be a fighter of some kind, and yet, he also wore one of those metal collars. Unlike the older man's, however, the numeral engraved upon this one was: I. That discovery complicated matters considerably. Whatever purpose these collars served, they appeared to be far less exclusive than I had initially assumed, for even a boy scarcely old enough to be considered an adult wore one.

Then again, there remained the possibility that this particular youth was exceptional in some fashion rather than representative of the general population. After all, I could clearly sense mana emanating from him. His reserves were respectable, though they paled in comparison to those possessed by the older man. The disparity was significant enough that even without witnessing either of them cast a spell, I found myself concluding that the older man was the more accomplished magic user.

After offering the boy a brief but unmistakably disapproving scolding, the older man watched as the youth let out a nervous chuckle before hastily returning to close the office door he had neglected to shut behind them. Satisfied, the man released a weary sigh and made his way toward the desk. His movements carried him directly past my concealed position, and his hand passed harmlessly through my intangible body as he reached for the journal I had been reading earlier.

Unaware of my presence, he closed it before methodically cleaning up other items on the desk. Once everything had been returned to its proper place, he opened one of the desk's drawers. I initially assumed he intended to retrieve additional documents. Instead, he took out a finely carved smoking pipe. He packed its bowl with dried herbs before raising one hand. But rather than reaching for flint or tinder, he snapped his fingers. A small flame sprang into existence at his fingertips.

The fire itself was hardly remarkable, because any competent mage could conjure one. What impressed me was the precision of this flame. The fire, no larger than necessary and possessing precisely enough heat to ignite the herbs without scorching the wood. Such delicate manipulation required considerably greater finesse than simply producing fire. Many novice mages could summon flames of impressive size, yet comparatively few possessed sufficient mastery to regulate temperature and intensity so precisely.

The man drew a slow breath through the pipe before exhaling a thin stream of smoke toward the open window. That, at the very least, explained why the windows had been left open earlier. I found myself faintly amused that someone would employ such refined magical control merely to light a smoking pipe. It struck me as a bit of a waste of talent to use magic for a purpose so mundane. Then, quite unexpectedly, another thought entered my mind.

The more I considered everything I had observed since arriving in this village, the more a rather intriguing possibility began assembling itself piece by piece. Admittedly, the theory bordered upon conspiracy, and I generally preferred conclusions supported by firmer evidence than mere circumstantial observations. But, the pattern forming before me possessed enough internal consistency that it couldn't just be dismissed immediately. The Elven Empire clearly exercised tremendous authority throughout these lands.

Their influence extended so far that they had apparently succeeded in subjecting even the once fiercely independent Adventurers' Guild to imperial inspections. Then there were the collars. I had now observed several individuals wearing them, each bearing a numeral engraved upon the metal. They were likely not slave collars, yet the collars undoubtedly served some official purpose. One did not manufacture such conspicuous pieces of metal solely for decoration.

More importantly, every individual I had thus far observed wearing one possessed a noticeable quantity of mana. The older man's magical presence was particularly substantial, while the boy's reserves, though considerably weaker, remained large enough for me to sense without difficulty. I had yet to witness the youth casting a spell, but given the amount of mana he possessed, I would have been genuinely surprised if he proved incapable of performing at least basic magical abilities.

Taken individually, none of these observations proved very much. Together, however… They painted an increasingly persuasive picture. My tentative conclusion was that these collars were issued, perhaps even forcibly imposed, upon certain magic users throughout the Elven Empire. Whether their stated purpose involved registration, regulation, or outright surveillance was hard to say, but I doubted they existed merely as harmless identifiers.

As for the numerals engraved upon them, I suspected they represented some measure of magical capability.