Rusk was clcounty a man well-versed in the ways of surviving in the underworld.
From the moment Bram began revealing secrets about the local lord and Antoine, Rusk knew that he had just stepped into a storm far beyond his reach. To meddle in matters involving people of that level, as a gang boss from the very bottom tier of the slums, was no different from an ant trying to intervene in a battle between elephants.
He desperately tried to signal Bram with his eyes, urging him to stop talking—but Vittoria intercepted his gaze with one of her own, equally sharp and commanding. Rusk could only curse silently in his heart, anxiety gnawing at him.
These two strangers clcounty hadn't come here with friendly intentions. They wanted to dip their hands into some enormous, dangerous affair—fine. But why did they have to drag him into it? Wouldn't it be enough to just knock him out and go on their way?
Aldric sat calmly on a high stool, his hands folded in front of his face, half covering his expression as he pondered the information Bram had just revealed.
The steward Antoine had seized control of Port Anthony by exploiting the young age of the local count. His firm and ruthless methods were already public knowledge. For a man like him to act so brazenly, trampling the unspoken rules among nobles, he must have powerful backing—something that gave him absolute confidence.
The young count, however, clearly wasn't willing to surrender so easily. Judging from the Blood Howl Gang's operations and style, and from what Aldric had learned from his mentor, that gang was most likely a cult that worshiped a chaos god. His mission, it seemed, would inevitably intersect with them.
The only question was—did the young count know the true nature of his own subordinates? And who exactly was supporting Antoine from the shadows?
After organizing his thoughts, Aldric decided to take advantage of the gang members before him—to use them as temporary manpower to offset his current lack of allies. His tone turned half-threatening, half-persuasive as he began,
"I understand your concerns, Bram. But your fears are justified! The Blood Howl Gang buys up corpses to please a chaos god. From the look of things, the disappearances in the slums are also their doing—part of a ritual sacrifice meant to hasten their dark ceremony. And when that ceremony is complete, I fear the entire city will be plunged into catastrophe."
Bram's face went pale. "My lord, you must report this to the city's Church and the City Guard! They won't believe someone like me, but they'll surely trust the testimony of a powerful adventurer!"
Aldric kept his posture composed, but his tone softened slightly, carrying a calm sincerity.
"You must understand, Bram—if the city truly falls under such a terrible threat, the guards will first rush to protect the nobles. As for the Church, their influence here is limited; they'll prioritize their temples and priests. Whatever disaster comes, the slums will bear the brunt of it. No one will come to save you… except yourselves."
Bram fell silent, deeply considering his words. What Aldric said made sense. The slums had always been a lawless, forgotten place—no one cared about the lives of its people.
"My lord," he finally said, his voice trembling but resolute, "my friends and family are here. I don't want them to suffer such a fate. Please—what should we do?"
"Bram," Aldric said, patting the man gently on the shoulder, his voice carrying the calm authority of a mentor.
"I see nobility in you. Even in this barren land of poverty, you still have a heart that cares for others. Here's what I need you to do: rally the people. Have them watch for any unfamiliar faces or suspicious activity. Anything they see or hear, they report to you—and you bring that information to me. I'll do everything in my power to make sure these cultists' schemes are stopped before it's too late."
"I'll do it, my lord!" Bram declared, his face brightening with determination. Without another word, he turned and left the room, not even glancing at Rusk, who was still frozen in stunned disbelief.
A soft ding sounded in Aldric's mind.
"You have used eloquent speech to influence another's behavior. You have intuitively gained partial knowledge of the Axii sign. You now possess a basic understanding of its effects and techniques. Mastery may soon follow."
That was an unexpected bonus. Aldric couldn't help but feel pleased. He didn't know how much Bram would actually accomplish, but that didn't matter. Even if the man failed, having an extra piece on the board was better than none.
Meanwhile, the remaining gang members stared at Aldric with expressions that mixed terror and disbelief. In just a few words, he had managed to turn one of their own from a hostage into a zealous volunteer.
None of them even dared to meet his eyes directly.
Even Vittoria beside him muttered under her breath, "What the hell… does Cathay still train political officers?"
Aldric coughed lightly to recapture everyone's attention.
"Now," he said, his tone cool and measured, "I need someone to guide me. I'm looking for a warehouse hidden somewhere in the slums." He took out the receipt with the address written on it and laid it on the table.
Rusk glanced at the paper and immediately looked uneasy. "That place… is in Blood Howl territory. That whole area belongs to them…"
Aldric reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of gold coins, letting them clatter onto the table.
"Perhaps this," he said, smiling faintly, "will give you a bit of courage."
Rusk's eyes flicked from the coins to Aldric, greed and fear warring in his expression. After a long hesitation, he shook his head.
"My lord… we really don't know much about that area."
Aldric calmly gathered the scattered coins into a single neat pile—twenty-two in total. Then, without warning, he drew his combat knife and slashed down in one smooth motion, splitting the stack cleanly in two.
"Then perhaps," he said quietly, "you can tell me instead about Blood Howl Gang's strength—how many men they have, where they usually gather. Because what I need right now are volunteers—to lead the way, find this warehouse, and uncover the truth behind their operations."
Rusk swallowed hard, staring at the two perfect halves of gold lying before him.
"C-could we… choose not to volunteer?" he asked timidly.
"Hmph!" Vittoria, already impatient, slammed her hand down on the table. The gold coins sank straight into the wooden surface with a dull thud, becoming embedded like decorative inlays, flush with the grain.
Rusk instantly broke into a nervous grin. "Understood! Understood! We're all volunteers here, every one of us!" He and his men nodded vigorously, bowing like puppets on strings.
As Aldric watched them lead the way out of the hideout, he couldn't help wondering—if his mentor could see how quickly he'd thrown himself into the politics of this city, using intimidation and manipulation to advance his mission—would the old witcher feel proud… or betrayed?
He sighed quietly and followed the group into the shadowed streets, deep in thought.
(End of Chapter)
TN: Geralt would beat them up first then ask questions.