The Witch’s Convent

Unfortunately, the tavern owner, Alan, couldn't share these thoughts with outsiders and had to keep them to himself.

Seeing Hawthorne standing alongside a nun today, and recalling how he had been probing into Hawthorne's background and identity, Alan suddenly felt a wave of fear.

I... I was just like those Shanasar thugs, practically courting death!

It wasn't until Hawthorne and Heidi's figures disappeared through the door that Alan slowly regained his composure, seriously reflecting on his previous conversation and checking for any missteps.

Fortunately, I was only complimenting him, and the questions I asked were quite ordinary, without delving into any critical information.

No more prying; this isn’t something I should be inquiring about!

After soothing and warning himself for quite a while, he finally calmed down, wiped the sweat from his brow, stood up, and returned to the counter to continue with his accounts.

...

On side of the slum, in an abandoned warehouse, the battered Shanasar thugs were recuperating.

Blasted by Hawthorne's two Thunder Waves, some were unconscious, others had broken legs, fractured ribs, disfigured faces, or were relatively lucky with only minor injuries.

Regardless of their injuries, they finally had a moment to rest. However, their leader had no such luxury. Even though his frostbitten arm was wrapped up like a mummy, he still had to lean on a crutch to report to his superior.

At that moment, seated in front of him was a terrifying giant, roughly two meters tall, much more robust, and blind in one eye, with a giant eye tattooed over the blind spot.

His remaining eye gazed emotionlessly at the bald man, making his scalp tingle with cold sweat. Yet, he had no choice but to muster his courage and report the entire incident with embellishments: "Fortunately, in the end, that Zhentarim Guild Mage didn’t kill us, allowing us to return."

"I failed, was defeated, and ask for your punishment, Boss!"

His tone was one of sad frustration and shame, seemingly begging for forgiveness, but in reality, he was shifting the blame: placing the fault of his misjudgment, which led to the failed attack on Hawthorne, onto another group.

As expected, his superior, the cyclops before him, lowered his gaze and said, "It's not your fault; there was a mistake in the intelligence. That bastard Daviel is willing to spend big, hiring a Mage to come here..."

After cursing, he looked up again at the bald man and said, "Have a good rest with your brothers. Make sure to heal up before the Night of the Twin Moons; don’t delay the delivery!"

Recently, the cyclops and his group were tasked with a mission to secretly transport a valuable item into Liberl Port and complete its transfer on the Night of the Twin Moons. The specifics of the item remained unknown to them.

They chose their most common method: leveraging their connections within the Amazon Fisheries Company to smuggle the item hidden among a batch of fish and enter through the South Harbor District.

However, somewhere along the line, there was a leak, and Zhentarim Guild agent Daviel Starsong acquired this classified Information, then sent a message demanding a steep price!

The cyclops didn't want to pay this hush money, so he planned to use force to make him keep quiet.

However, no one knew how that cunning Gold Elf Daviel had disguised himself or where he was hiding.

Thus, the cyclops verbally agreed for now, intending to secretly act by first kidnapping his bodyguard, the female half-orc Yagora, and then coercing her to reveal their next meeting time and place, eventually capturing Daviel in one swoop!

But unexpectedly, the other party was already aware and had sent a Mage to assist, who ended up turning the tables and giving them a sound beating.

Now, they've forged a grudge with Daviel. It’s likely that he'll not only sell the information but also retaliate against them...

Thinking this, the cyclops' eyes flickered, and he finally gritted his teeth, saying, "You all recover well from your injuries. I’ll notify the commander. This is beyond what our capabilities can handle!"

In the Dark Intelligence Network, the hierarchy from low to high is: "Agent of the Eye," "Ray of the Eye," "Guild Commander," and "Hand of the Eye."

As a minor boss, the bald man was an "Agent of the Eye," while his superior, the cyclops, was a "Ray of the Eye."

The 'commander' the cyclops referred to was naturally a "Guild Commander."

Saying this, he casually patted the bald man's shoulder, encouragingly, "At worst, I'll just get a scolding, or even a whipping. You all focus on healing and don't take this matter to heart!"

The bald man was deeply moved, though unsure how much of it was genuine: "It's my fault, I am to blame!"

While such insincere performances carried on inside the warehouse, two tall, thin figures stood silently outside, each donning a black leather coat and topped with a black bowler hat.

"The people the Cassalanter Family hired can only handle this much?" one murmured, shaking his head with a low sigh.

"As we suspected, our partner cannot be entirely relied upon," the other said. "Fortunately, on the Night of the Twin Moons, our strength will also increase."

"If it comes to it, we’ll directly take action and seize the Illusionist’s Bracers then."

...

That evening, inside the convent’s study.

Hawthorne put down his Grimoire, ending his study session. The stray thoughts, suppressed by the study’s Magic Power, surged back, leaving him feeling restless.

He then opened the system, reviewing his attributes panel, frowning as he weighed his options.

Should he level up his Warlock occupation to level 2 now?