Detreka took two slices of bread from the kitchen, heated them along with an egg on the frying pan to make a simple breakfast, intending to first deliver it to Bartley, who was still unconscious in the guest room.
The moment she opened the door, a saw-cleaver still radiating a strong smell of blood was pressed against her neck.
The blood on the blade came from the assassins in the tavern yesterday. Most of the unlucky souls who stood in Bartley's path were hacked to pieces in a single encounter; the luckier ones still lost their limbs.
Thus, the blade was stained not only with blood but also bone fragments and secretions from other organs.
"Who are you? Answer me." Bartley's voice cut through crisply.
The hunter's way of speaking was always cold and concise; this was already his most non-hostile tone possible. No one understood his state at that time better than he did. His mind could no longer hold on, and his body was nearing critical injury.
Catalyzing the [Blood Burn] art further was only to kill as many as possible before dying.
But he had actually survived... which meant he had to consider the possibilities. The ideal scenario was being rescued by his own people, but in most cases, that was just a distant, unattainable hope. The worst-case scenario was being captured by the enemy.
He would rather die outright than be captured and subjected to torture and humiliation.
"Ah!"
The pungent smell of blood made Detreka shudder all over, nearly dropping the tray in her hands.
"Um, Hunter sir, I'm an informant hired by Ms. Vivian... remember? Yesterday, that smoke grenade was thrown by me, and I was the one who brought you here."
She set the tray aside, then somewhat flustered, took out a jet-black crow feather with a silky sheen to prove her identity.
"I see, sorry. My mind is a bit tense; I probably scared you."
Bartley saw the spirituality on the crow feather indeed came from Vivian's [Calling Bird] Munin and gradually lowered his guard. He then apologized for his earlier rudeness.
As he became more awake, his thoughts also clarified.
Indeed, if he had been captured by Louisa, those people would never have treated his injuries so meticulously. Nor would they have left his weapon right beside him. If it were the aforementioned situation, he should have woken up chained in a torture chamber.
"It's fine. After all, yesterday was really dangerous... You do need some time to recover."
Seeing the burly man put down the saw-cleaver, Detreka also let out a slight sigh of relief.
Looking at the somewhat reserved girl in front of him, Bartley grinned a low laugh and patted her shoulder to reassure her.
"Thanks for saving me, kid."
"I'm Bartley from the Burial Court. If you run into any trouble later and need some muscle... you can come find me. Whether it's annoying thugs or those disgusting abominations, I can handle them for you."
Simultaneously, he couldn't help but sigh over another matter.
For this mission, it seemed the Confidential Division did have an agent named Vivian accompanying Sister Haida. He hadn't paid much attention to her.
To think she had quietly already bribed an informant and set up an intelligence network... Tsk, truly, don't judge a book by its cover.
Could it be that low-profile state was actually a new stealth method of the Confidential Division? Not to be underestimated...
"Mr. Bartley, you are my employer's colleague. I just helped within my abilities."
Detreka said quite humbly.
Even so, she was already thinking about how to utilize Bartley's favor.
He was a genuine veteran hunter, moving effortlessly through the siege of dozens in the tavern. The gruesome scene of severed limbs flying was still deeply imprinted in her mind.
"By the way, your name is?"
Out of courtesy, Bartley asked for the name of his rescuer.
Detreka didn't hide it and quite readily said her name and profession.
"My name is Detreka. I'm a disciple of the Six-Eyed Crow."
"Six-Eyed Crow, huh..."
Bartley rubbed the stubble on his chin, his expression somewhat nostalgic.
"Come to think of it, I had something stolen by one of your cult members on the way here. That's one bad thing about Foy—too many thieves. Even locals can't avoid losing small things sometimes."
Having his knife stolen by a Six-Eyed Crow thief on the Leviathan, then being saved by a member of this cult after landing... sometimes fate is just so hard to predict...
"Ha, ha, what a coincidence... I apologize on behalf of my comrades for their actions..."
Detreka pursed her lips imperceptibly, masking her trace of guilt.
"Foy City is considered one of the more orderly places in Gormouth. Other cities are much more chaotic, except for the capital, Moldway. Most of the time, you really do need to be on guard..."
"Hey, I grew up in this damn place, of course I know that. I just didn't expect that little thief to act on a ship from Norlington."
Bartley waved his hand, not pursuing the matter further.
He had wondered if Detreka was the one who stole his knife, but it seemed too coincidental. Besides, she was Vivian's informant, and the thief that day was let go by Dr. Fran. The two things just didn't connect.
After all, Gormouth was the main gathering place for Six-Eyed Crow believers. Thieves were never in short supply.
"Then you rest well here. I have to prepare for an operation tonight, so I won't disturb you further..."
Detreka left the slice of bread with butter and fried egg and then walked out of the room, looking somewhat sheepish.
"Hmm."
Watching the thief girl leave, Bartley felt maybe he was too intimidating, why was she so scared of him?
But this little kid probably witnessed the entire fight last night. Seeing that kind of blood-splattering scene, feeling scared wasn't strange.
After last night's events, he was indeed hungry. He quickly ate the still slightly scalding-hot food on the tray.
---
After leaving the guest room and returning to her own bedroom, Detreka began preparing items she might need tonight. The Six-Eyed Crow cult token, a small dagger, her last smoke grenade.
As for work tools like blades, fishhooks, and tweezers, she didn't take them. It was an exchange gathering, not something else. Besides, the payment Ms. Vivian gave could support her life for quite a while.
Finally, she carefully wrapped Bartley's saw-cleaver in cloth and placed it in the wooden floorboard compartment under her bed...
---
Dreamslumber Flowers Hotel.
It wasn't until the noon sunlight streamed through the window ledge onto the bed that Fran finally scratched her slightly curly, pale blonde hair and drowsily opened her eyes.
"Whew... nice sunshine today."
Her voice carried a soft, sleepy laziness, as if not fully awake yet.
However, last night's dream from Luyala truly gave Fran great help. It was a comfortable and relaxing "pleasant dream," greatly restoring the spirituality she had expended in setting up the grey mist ritual.
Without Luyala's help, Fran probably would have slept all day and might have even missed tonight's Six-Eyed Crow full moon gathering. As a bed companion and oversized pillow, this mythical creature was indeed excessively excellent...
"Dr. Fran, it's already noon. The hotel checkout is probably in about two hours."
Haida's voice quietly sounded beside her.
She was already fully dressed, the buttons of her form-fitting nun's robe meticulously fastened to the collar, the power sword "Nirvana" also slung on her back, seemingly ready to depart at any moment.
Although this nun had received a Supervisor-level task budget this time, close to 900 Norlington silver, it covered almost all expenses.
Such as purchasing information, preparing equipment, and daily food and lodging... spending it on staying in a hotel was simply too extravagant.
"Alright, I'll go get ready too."
Fran rubbed her eyes and began her post-waking preparations. The Dreamslumber Flowers Hotel's bathing facilities were very complete; she quickly completed today's grooming. It was just a pity Sigrid wasn't around to comfortably and conveniently dry her hair.
However, Haida also had some skill with braiding hair.
Her skill wasn't as proficient and precise as Sigrid's, but it gave a familiar feeling. It was reminiscent of her own former, name-erased physician's apprentice.
Knock, knock.
Just as Haida wanted to discuss today's specific plans with Fran, two knocking sounds came. They were clear and strong, seemingly different from the habit of the previous attendant.
"Is it time for checkout notification?"
Vivian went to the door and lightly turned the handle to open it.
Standing at the door were two police detectives in white uniforms and a disciple of the Stellar Abyss Society. The disciple's scholar's robe had a distinct Gormouth style, making it highly recognizable.
Haida narrowed her eyes slightly; she was very familiar with this style. When Fran had attended the White Cup's academic seminar under the name "Flamel," the outfit she wore was exactly this style.
"Greetings, everyone. I am the Stellar Abyss Society's 'Star-Voicer' Mitchell."
Seeing there were three ladies inside the room, this disciple from the Stellar Abyss Society took half a step back to indicate no hostility before stating his purpose for coming.
"Last night, a violent incident occurred at the Abyssal Sea Tavern, resulting in at least ten deaths and injuries to many innocent guests. Do you have any knowledge about this? Please cooperate with the investigation."
Hearing Mitchell's words, Vivian paused slightly, showing a very natural confusion.
"Huh? We were at the Dreamslumber Flowers Hotel all last night and didn't go out?"
Mitchell nodded upon hearing this and did not refute it.
"That does align with the relevant testimony from the Dreamslumber Flowers Hotel, and we are willing to believe you are innocent. But the matter is serious, so please provide a related statement..."
"Let me handle it."
With that, Haida stepped in front of Mitchell, while Vivian tacitly stepped aside.
Looking at this nun who seemed even taller than himself, Mitchell inexplicably felt some pressure.
Although her features were delicate and almost gentle, even describable as beautiful, those chestnut-grey eyes made one feel an involuntary chill. It was like being watched by a grey wolf beneath tundra snowstorms.
"Mr. Mitchell, how much do you know about this case?"
"This..."
Facing her question that almost reversed their roles, Mitchell was momentarily speechless.
According to regulations, suspects are not qualified to ask questions.
But this Star-Voicer noticed the brass signet ring on Haida's index finger, the symbol of a Burial Court Supervisor. And that blade on her back, larger than a regular greatsword... the more he looked, the more pressure he felt.
"Ahem. Preliminary investigations indicate this riot was instigated by pirates."
After some consideration, Mitchell still revealed some information.
"They seemed to be chasing someone. Witnesses said that person had hunter characteristics. Considering you just arrived from Norlington yesterday when this case occurred, we wanted to know if you have any knowledge about it."
Haida found his investigative attitude acceptable enough and began to inquire in detail about the specific case.
"Are there any physical characteristics? The Burial Court has many externally assigned hunters every year. Without relevant information, it's difficult to track a specific individual."
"Hmm... last night's situation was very chaotic. Most witnesses were only focused on escaping the tavern. A few testimonies mentioned the hunter was very strong and was a middle-aged male."
As he said this, Mitchell was somewhat confused.
He didn't know why a routine inquiry had turned into the current case discussion. He vaguely felt something was off, but it also seemed like it should be this way...
"Training one's body is also part of the Secrets-Hunter code. Most middle-aged hunters possess the 'strong' characteristic. It's difficult to determine from that."
Haida slightly frowned, appearing to think seriously.
"Mr. Mitchell, let me write you a statement of yesterday's events."
"Alright, thank you for your trouble..."
Hearing her willingness to cooperate with writing a statement, Mitchell felt a sense of relief.
Since these were ladies, and they bore no traces of injuries or the like, they clearly had no direct connection to the tavern riot. What he needed to do was just follow the investigative procedure and do his job.
Sitting by the bed, Fran gently swung her legs, observing Haida writing the statement with a quill pen, a faint, elusive smile curving her lips.
Although Haida's actions were rigorous to the point of being leak-proof, her methods for handling such situations were not rigid.
She clearly knew the person attacked last night was Bartley, yet she was earnestly helping that Star-Voicer analyze the case... giving the scene a strangely humorous feel.
---
"Thank you for your cooperation, Sister Haida."
Looking at the detailed written statement in his hand, Mitchell nodded and didn't press further with questions.
This Secrets-Hunter Supervisor's submitted written information was very detailed, appearing quite reasonable. For those hunters who were mostly eccentric and aloof in character, this was quite rare.
Given this premise, if he made further demands, like detention for observation... would instead seem somewhat impolite.
Moreover, according to Foy City's loose public security regulations—loose enough for pirates to come ashore—without concrete evidence, he had no power to do anything else.
"This is what I should do. Furthermore, if it is determined that the event involves heretical taint, I can assist you in purging them."
As she spoke, Haida took out a handkerchief, wiped the remaining ink from the quill pen, and then quite carefully put it away.
+++
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