Chapter 592: Empire's Invasion [10]

'Quite ironic if you think about it. Town Eden was a side-project to promote exchange between Hidros and Arda. A long time elapsed before the alliance was truly settled. In a time of crisis, the town of scrutiny from pro-humans and pro-demihumans faced a rude awakening. The border between the two evolved into one of comfort. Once used to divide now used to protect. The Federation's presence is heavy, good luck breaking the non-aggression pact.' 

Amidst the wave of people moving to and fro; the lenses toggled into infiltration mode. Éclair worked to scan, record, evaluate, filter, and relay. Each word said was captured and played back. Gossip from the ladies, rumors from the men, deals from the merchants, and much more. 'Glenda's the prime location for the hunt, or so said the dead bandits. They would often bring the children here, at a more or less rambunctious town to exchange the cargo. The next trade is set to occur at 13:00, time's noon. I got an hour, the place is supposed to be a cottage, named Dead Man's Entra.' Across the mob of town-square and into the southern part of town, the overall atmosphere sucked into tense thinly lain tracks. Dark were the pathways and darker were the alleys. 'My kind of place,' thought he bursting through. Many onlookers were scanned, found, and displayed as outlines. Face against the world's leader in technology and magic, wit could only take one so far. Phantom's influence seemed to have no limits. There were rumors of another hidden research base where black projects were experimented with and successfully implemented. 

He reached the end of the road, the mossy wall stood on high. Guards above slacked off and napped. 'Dead Man's Entra,' stood on the right, cupped between two hefty buildings. No indication of their purpose led to an impromptu visit. 

'Bandits,' he entered, '-a bar, inn, and a place of secrets. This must be the red-light district of Glenda,' sat at the bar counter.

"What would you like, sir?" inquired the bartender.

"No idea at the moment," said he with a charismatic smile, "-what's your recommendation?" 

"I'd say, Dead Man's Entra."

"Then so be it."

Cigar lit, '-succubus, a lot of them. There's even incubus for the ladies, quite the operation, a place of pleasure owned by demons. Should be a cesspool of life-essence. I wonder who's in charge.' By the looks of things, the bartender was quick to alert those at the top.

"Excuse me," hailed Igna.

"What is it, sir?" he avoided direct eye contact.

"Where are the guards?" the tone dropped, "-who was it you contacted. Best be frank, else I'll rip the whole building apart."

"I apologize on his behalf," said a masked man in a suit, "-please, follow me this way, dear customer." 

Reddish-colored curtains parted, moans and grunts were far too common. The more they walked, the farther the hall seemed to get. "-We're here," said he, "-after you," a peculiar door opened.

*Slam,* "Oh god, I'm trapped, someone, please help me."

"Was that supposed to be a cry for help?" asked a discordant voice, "-the words say one thing and the emotions say another, who are you, boy?"

"A wandering adventurer," atrocious lighting made for a chilling room, "-I suppose thou art the leader of said establishment?"

"How do you figure?"

"Pretty simple," he continued forth, "-why would a servant class demon come to fetch a customer. Why are there demons littered around? The bartender is a low-tiered demon, he could have easily killed me at a moment's notice. Still, he chose to call onto his superior," finally at the desk, "-might I ask your name?"

Cackles amplified, the chair rotated, "-good on ya," said a little boy, "-figured me out pretty quickly."

"Honestly," he sighed, "-why are demons such pains. Choosing the appearance of a little boy to conserve mana."

"Oh, you're well-versed," he smirked, "-go on, take a seat."

"Don't mind if I do," sat and without worry. Puffs of smoke obnoxiously flew towards the boy's innocent visage.

"What brings someone like you to my humble abode?" 

"Decided to talk, have we not?" straight and proper, "-first things first, get the hounds away from my shadow, it's annoying. Secondly, the masked man of before, would you step out of the feeble darkened cloak. Lastly, the arachnid on the ceiling, please get down, *chip,* it fell onto his arms, "-tis quite dangerous," said he with allure. 

"I-I-I," her cheeks flushed. Early twenties, black hair, blacker eyes, pale skin, and awry hair.

"Don't worry," he parted her hair, exposing the lush forehead, "-I broke your fall. Go on, scurry back to the front."

*Woosh,* "-oh," the wristed snapped onto a poisoned dart, "-how nice of you," the tip was cleaned and used to tie the lady's hair, "-it shouldn't be of much trouble now," he gently smiled, "-a high-bun sure looks nice, few locks here and there should add to the natural female charisma."

A hand rose to stop the needless trap, the lights toggled. The masked man stood behind the boy. He who shot the dart, joined by the arachnid, ambled to a sofa in the corner. 

'He didn't flinch nor look around; the eyes were dead straight into mine. What a fearsome and powerful man. Those crimson daggers, a nightwalker, noble one at that.'

"Might I know the reason I was called here?" inquired he, "-masked man, you're a butler right?"

"Y-yes," returned he.

"Go fetch me my drink. I kindly asked of the bartender earlier before the rude interruption," smokes puffed, the two behind enjoyed a party game of cards.

Glanced towards the leader, he nodded, and off the butler went. 

"Who are you, honestly?" 

"Igna Haggard, a wandering adventurer. I've come to seek information. Of course, I'll give equal compensation."

"Hmm…"

"And, no need to explain the reason. The long hallway isn't nearly small enough to fit the tavern. The only logical explanation is the surrounding buildings, we're in one of them. The multiple rooms are for the exchange of soul fragments. A contract with a demon can be quite the hassle." 

"We're still better than the never present gods. We abide by the contracts and take on the promised payment. What's there to discuss? Igna, you're very smart. Figuring out the operations here and in such little time, how could you?"

"Experience," said he, "-I've been in many places like these. The results are always the same, I enter, act suspicious, get called into a backroom, slaughter my ambush, move for the commander, and get what I need. A simple equation that never fails." 

"We were led in a trap from the beginning?" wondered he.

"Obviously," he chuckled, "-there's quite more to it than that. So, Mister demon-"

"Call me Harth."

"Understood, Mr. Harth, my business here is to find the name and location of individuals involved in kidnapping and human trafficking."

"I see," he held his chin in thought, the door opened with a tray and the drink. "As a rule, us demons, never directly get involved in the affairs of the livings. My purpose here is clear as day, to satisfy the demons and demi-humans. A few incidents happen here and there."

"I don't really care," voiced Igna sipping the drink. The eyes widened; "-this is excellent. It's been stirred with finesse and perfection. Bring me the bartender this instant." The conversation cut, they waited on the barkeep. 

'What's he up to now?' wondered Harth, '-I can't quite get a read on his emotions or intent. The way he speaks is charming, there's no way to ignore the weight behind each word. A masterful show of power without displaying his card, this man is a phenom, not even a mid-tier demon can hold up to his immense presence.' 

"You called for me?" the door opened.

"Ah, yes, barkeeper," hailed Igna, "-please, come over here," he stood.

"Was something wrong with the drink, sir?" he shyly asked.

"No, it was perfect. Tell me," he lifted the keeper's chin, "-are you interested in money or souls?" The eyes wandered towards Harth out of habit. The latter nodded to say, '-go on, tell him.'

"I'd prefer souls," said he after much self-deliberations. The answer had the assistants on the edge of their seat, what would the response be they wondered.

"How many?" he snapped back.

"I don't understand," the head lowered, "-a soul is enough to make a demon powerful, the more the better. I can't be greedy, maybe one or two?"

"Then it shall be granted," said he, *Souls of the dead, thee who've sworn to serve me in life and death, come to my side. Blood-Arts: Ghouls Requiem.* Five screeching visages materialized from a depiction of the pits of hell, tentacles snapped about, breaking bookcases and shelves. "Here, five human souls. They should be quite tender; my companions enjoy probing their prey."

"Hold on a moment!" cried Harth, "-five humans' souls, just like that, no hesitation nothing? We take on average two months to successfully capture a tortured demi-humans soul, humans are far more difficult." 

"Well, how about you take two from here," said he, "-the remainder goes to the bartender for a drink well made." 

The demons hurdled to discuss the division of said souls. Igna stood back and enjoyed the drink. '-Demons or not, they work the same. Show power, show fortune, and show the influence, I've laid out more than they can chew. He should start talking any minute. Just have to keep cool and wait. Take the bait, dear fish, take it.' For the duration of the discussion, the arachnid, a lady with very strange facial features kept on admiring. Her eyes were glued to Igna's.

"Alright," coughed Harth, "-Igna, we've decided. The souls shall be equally distributed."

"Why tell me, those five souls are nothing much to be wary about. About my question, will you reply or shall I take my leave?"

"No, no," he interjected, "-the ones involved in trafficking frequent the bar on weekly intervals. Their next visit is in one hour, here's how they look. They work for the lord of Glenda."

'Names and faces,' he nodded, "-good, I'll take my leave then."

"WAIT!" fired Harth, "-please, promise us that you'll come back soon."

"Why would I," refuted he, "-there's no more purpose thee can serve. I got what I needed and I gave what I thought was correct." *Snap,* another three souls materialized, "-here, that's the payment for the information." *Teleportation.*

"Damn," ruffles ended in a crash, the elder fell off the dangling chair, "-Igna, do be careful."

"Sorry," he held out a hand.

"No problem," pulled to stand, "-what brings you here?"

"I need a favor."

The curtains flapped to bristle Elm's remaining hair, "-what kind of favor?" the view gave onto Annie and Ota running about.

"I'll need to take Annie to be my hostage," said he.

"As a hostage," the face strained into a robust denial, "-for what purpose?"

"To bait the ones who were responsible for Honye and his father's death."

"What if I say no?"

"I'm hoping you say yes. There's no way she'll be hurt, I swear on my name."

"No, I refuse. Igna, I'm sorry. Using the youth as bait isn't something I can allow."

"Old man," he sighed, "-fine, have it your way. Don't complain if a river of blood flows onto this sacred land," he teleported away.

'Guess it didn't work out. I'll do things my way from now on. Julius and the elder asked for a painless operation. Not that it matters now, I'll kill to get what I want.' Orenmir reacted to the murderous intent, '-so you're ready too, my loyal blade. Let's carve our way through. The ones involved in the incidents at Apid and Oda are the nobles of Glenda. A man and woman, they usurped the barony and its land. We'll have to fight; the capture of enemy land shall be granted to the victor. This works out fine, a solid base of operation. Time to acquire the title of Baron."