At this moment, a parade was about to ensue in honor of the first king of Targia, Ulretch Yve Targia.

  Legend has it, King Ulretch was a man so powerful that he equaled the gods. He knew both the way of the sword and the wisdom of mages, capable of cutting mountains and calling upon rain.

  Of course, these legends had no way of being confirmed. After all, how could a mortal be comparable to gods?

  “Our people love telling tales of old, don't you agree?” Earleon whispered, watching as a dozen beauties danced while wearing exotic costumes.

  There were both men and women in the dance group, their bodies adorned with crimson and gold, while their faces were covered by an alluring white mask. Even though not an inch of their skin could be seen, the red silk outlined the women's curvaceous bodies, and the men's defined ones. They were like puppets carved by master craftsmen, their bodies perfected after countless failures.

  Meanwhile, as they danced, the golden beads sewn all over their clothing swam like koi fish in the air. They never collided when they weren't supposed to. And when they do, they snap with a loud crunch, akin to a thunderclap.

  “Each ancestor of the fourteen kingdoms are outrageous, said to have matched gods with their prowess. But as we all know, none of it is true,” Earleon shook his head, averting his gaze from the dancers. Looking at Zethir beside him, his eyes became a little complicated.

  To enjoy the festivities, all four of them wore appropriate festival outfits. Long, red silk fabric made their figures either dainty or dignified. For him, it was more of the former as his body wasn't muscular.

  But for the three other men… only Zethir looked decent in the outfit. Hans looked like a cow in a dress, while Julian was wearing a size too small for him.

  Had he chosen a slightly bigger size, he would've been a fox in human skin.

  “What?” Zethir frowned, looking back at Earleon. The outfit, which closely resembled kimonos and yukatas, matched Earleon's body well.

  However, Earleon's face was too bony—he looked like he starved for days.

  “Is your body okay? You used energy yesterday.”

  “It is. I'm not some glass doll,” Zethir replied. Although his body still felt numb, it wasn't hindering him. Apart from his slightly dull sense of touch.

  Earleon sighed. “Your body will heal, but don't try to rush it. It would be better if you stayed in bed for a few weeks but alas…”

  “Tch,” Zethir furrowed his brow. “Enough about me.”

  “Right,” Earleon shook his head.

  As they looked back at the dance group, they were already a distance away from them. The parade wasn't stationary, after all, even though it moved slowly.

  “Why do you think the deal will work out? We don't have connections here,” Earleon asked.

  Zethir frowned, but refrained from saying anything.

  According to the four men from the Frejiero faction, Nea City had many competing factions. They didn't know a single one of them, apart from the Frejieros and Alukshas.

  The Frejieros offered to share intelligence, and Zethir wanted to accept it. However, he also wanted to drag the Frejieros down with him.

  “You're sure your spell would be unnoticed,” Zethir glanced at Earleon, who nodded.

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  Before going to the parade, Earleon gathered as much arcane energy as he could—which took him an entire night, from dusk to dawn.

  Afterward, he casted an auxiliary spell, one that recorded what the caster saw and heard, called [Eye of Daemon].

  “The spell will only be active for three hours. It's been two hours already,” Earleon sighed. The parade had been going for two hours, and the four men from Frejiero hadn't arrived yet.

  “No, they're here,” Zethir suddenly said, before turning around and walking away. Earleon tilted his head in confusion before following him.

  “How did you notice?”

  “Gut feeling,” Zethir answered, which drew a frown from Earleon.

  However, despite his doubts, Earleon zipped his mouth.

  How Warriors and Spellcasters judged a situation differed greatly. Warriors relied on instincts and feelings, whilst Spellcasters relied on logic and calculations.

  The parade was taking place at the central plaza of Nea, and it was set to travel in circles around the city for the entire day. Now, Zethir and Earleon reached a quaint shop selling tea just a street away from the plaza.

  “They're here?” Earleon looked at the signboard that read; “Exquisite Aroma.”

  Zethir silently opened the door. Ignoring the staff's greetings, he scanned the place and very quickly spotted four sore thumbs. Meanwhile, Earleon hurriedly chatted with the staff before rushing to Zethir, who was already approaching the four men from Frejiero.

  “Alfredo,” Zethir called out to the bearded man. He was the one he talked with to arrange today's meeting.

  Yesterday, after telling Earleon to prepare the [Eye of Daemon], he snuck out and searched for the four men. Luckily, they stayed at the bar for the whole night, making his search rather easy.

  “Zethir, you're here… and you,” Alfredo smiled at Earleon, who smiled back.

  “My name is Earleon,” he said.

  “Earleon, huh?” Alfredo nodded. “We finally learned your name. Last time, you forgot to tell after Ghiel asked you.”

  Earleon laughed, uttering a quick apology to Ghiel, the blinded man. Thankfully, Ghiel accepted the apology without much thought.

  “Zethir, you said you wanted the information. May I know why you want to accept it now?” Alfredo raised an eyebrow at Zethir, his hand rubbing his beard.

  Zethir nodded solemnly, his back straighter than a line. “It's simple. We have no standing in Nea City, and we want to quickly build up fame.”

  “Build up fame?” Ghiel grinned. “I've seen many others like you in my old age. Are you sure you're not building infamy instead?”

  Ghiel quietly pulled out a bag of peanuts. Before Alfredo could see it, he took a few and stuffed the bag back into his pockets.

  “...” Alfredo's eyes twitched.

  “Fame and infamy are the same at the end of the day,” Zethir said, his hand lifting to touch the side of his waist. He grasped at nothing.

  Meanwhile, Ghiel scoffed. “Those are two different things, but if you say so. Now, listen well…”

  Ghiel straightened up in his seat, with Alfredo doing the same. On the other hand, the scar-faced and buff man looked as though their souls had flown away.

  “Nea City wasn't the original capital city of Targia. The first was named Frejiero City, the birthplace of the first king's brother. However, this city was destroyed during the first Godly War,” Ghiel took out a map, which was tattered near the edges.

  However, the ink was surprisingly crisp, no signs of fading out.

  “After being destroyed, the citizens of Frejiero gathered and… you guessed it, formed the Frejiero Faction. After the first king built Nea City, the Frejiero Faction moved into Nea. However, this caused dissatisfaction within,” he said, taking out the king and queen chess pieces and placing it at the center of the map.

  It was where the central plaza was located.

  “Because of their history, the Frejieros wished to monopolize the entire city for their own, and the king had no qualms about this. However,” he took out a bishop chess piece, placing it at the edge of the map.

  “The nobles of that time abhorred such a set-up. This was a time when the gods of Lust and Chastity had just separated, and the conflict between the royals and nobles was at an all time high. With the Frejiero—siding with the royalty—monopolizing Nea, the nobles formed a faction of their own. But it wasn't enough to topple Frejiero’s reign.”

  Saying so, Ghiel flicked the bishop, making it fall.

  “But of course, the nobles wouldn't give up,” taking out several chess pieces, including pawns, bishops, knights, and rooks, he continued.

  “Hiring thousands of mercenaries from all corners of the kingdom, they formed an outrageous amount of organizations, all with the goal of disrupting Frejiero's rule. Finally,” Ghiel picked up the king chess piece, putting it back in his pocket.

  Who knew where it actually went, since his pockets never bulged.

  “The king stopped supporting the Frejiero after facing enormous political pressure. Very quickly, the Frejiero started to collapse,” he said, switching out the queen for a rook.

  “The nobles succeeded in the end, but the cost wasn't low. The organizations they gathered started rebelling one after the other, claiming certain parts of the city as their own. After who knew how long, only four major factions remained at the top of this convoluted mess.”

  Ghiel pushed down all of the chess pieces, leaving behind four—a bishop, a pawn a knight, and a rook.

  Touching the knight, “The Solien Faction sides with the temple. They consist mostly of royals, and they focus on military activities,” Ghiel said, and Zethir's eyes narrowed.

  “The Haniel Faction,” Ghiel touched the pawn. “They're pure businessmen, the richest in all of Targia. They're clean, too clean, perhaps. They’re neutral.”

  Ghiel then grinned as he tapped on the bishop. “The Aluksha Faction, they occupy the majority of Nea’s black market, and half of the kingdom's dark dealings. Ironically, they support the nobility.”

  “And finally,” he held the rook. “Us, the Frejiero. We side with the royalty. Our business include food trades, ore mining, and many more... including drugs, of course.”

  Leaning back against the chair, Ghiel looked at Zethir and said. “Although Aluksha consist mainly of nobles, they are closely allied with the Solien. That's why we can't do much against them.”

  After a moment, a heavy sigh could be heard, followed by a light groan.

  “With such a long history, Frejiero never tried forming their own armed forces?” Earleon asked, looking at the map.

  “Who told you that?” Ghiel grinned. “We have our soldiers. Otherwise, we'd all be dead. We simply don't do business in that area.”

  “Say, this Solien…”

  “Ah, are you wondering if it's possible to hire them?” Ghiel eyed Zethir, shaking his head. “You can try. Even though they're allies, both Solien and Aluksha are hell spawns. They'd bite each other if it meant profit.”

  Zethir narrowed his eyes. “How strong are they?”

  Contrary to what Ghiel thought, he didn't want to work with the Solien Faction at all.

  “Huh?” Ghiel looked at the map, and then back at Zethir. “Did you seriously ask that? The Soliens control seventy percent of the kingdom's military. Are you really not a spy?”

  “...” Zethir looked at Earleon, who looked back at him.

  Neither of them knew that.