“Is that so?”
El explained his commission to Old Mike.
“Investigate cultists? I doubt it’s that simple, is it? And at this particular time, instead of going to the Church, you come to this old man…”
He quickly pointed out the oddity.
“It’s tough. The Demon Cult has some nobles backing them—they hide well. Paladins are only good for fighting and nothing else, and the Inquisition is practically the stuff of legends these days.”
Facing Old Mike’s question, El answered honestly.
“So that’s how it is…”
Assassins—also known as Rogues—were far rarer than other classes, mainly because there were no mentors for such a shadowy profession.
Most assassins fumbled their way through, relying on personal experience, which meant a high risk of dying young.
Even the Knight track at the Royal Academy had a subdivision for training agile scouts, but they were nothing like Rogues.
Even within the Empire’s intelligence agency, there were few actual combat operatives—most were ordinary people. If there ever was an assassination mission, it was usually assigned to knights.
Old Mike was truly a talent—at least SR Card level.
Far superior concealment compared to his peers, a fox-like wisdom from age, an intimate knowledge of the Lower District, and unique information channels…
“So, who’s backing you? The Princess?”
“You could say that.”
As soon as he heard it, Old Mike wanted to back out. The fight for the throne—how many lives would he need to get through that?
If he died… who would look after the kids in the gang?
But he still put on an act, pretending to ponder for a long time, before saying, “Sir, please allow me to refuse your commission. As an Information Broker, if you wanted me to steal something, I could do that. But getting involved with cultists and the nobles up above—that’s a tall order.”
El had anticipated the danger and the likely refusal, even though he’d offered two thousand gold dragons as payment.
He fell into thought—what condition could possibly persuade him?
“Young master, what Old Mike cares about most is the kids in the Mouse Gang. Maybe start from there.”
Ivena’s whisper sounded in his ear—she could hear Old Mike’s true feelings.
El looked up, surprised at the slick expression on Old Mike’s face. Who would’ve thought the old man had such a soft heart underneath?
“Don’t you think it’s dangerous for cultists to operate in the Lower District? We have a common enemy. Sooner or later, they’ll reach for the Wobei District. By then, those unarmed little thieves in the Mouse Gang will become the easiest targets.”
“Heh, you’re adorably naive, young master. Why would I care about those little rats’ lives? They’re just tools for gathering information in this cesspool.”
Old Mike let out a derisive laugh.
El couldn’t see a single crack in his act. If this was just pretending, the old fox was doing an impeccable job—which only proved he was the perfect choice to investigate the cultists.
“He’s wavering, young master, but he doesn’t trust you, and the terms still aren’t enough.”
Ivena reminded him.
Old Mike could never have imagined that in this match of wits, El was basically playing with x-ray vision, breaking all the rules and making his disguise look like a joke.
El put himself in Old Mike’s shoes.
If he might die while fulfilling a commission, what would he want?
Certainly not gold dragons—money you could earn, but not spend if you were dead.
If he died, the kids in the Mouse Gang would lose their protection, perhaps ending up as beggars or even slaves.
The answer was clear… El spoke, “I can take care of your worries. I promise, if you die on this job, I’ll look after your kids. I’ll assess the clues you bring in and decide how much of the reward you get.”
He spoke with full confidence, and his words took Old Mike by surprise.
“Why should I believe you?” Old Mike blurted.
El took a document from his spatial ring, a noble crest glowing with magical light on its surface.
“Godefiel? Who exactly are you?”
That’s right, it was the blank parchment Aurelia had given him.
She had promised to fulfill any condition for El.
But El wasn’t shameless—this was the perfect chance. For Aurelia, it was no big deal and wouldn’t get her too involved.
The moment Old Mike saw that crest, he understood exactly what El meant—hence his shock.
***
In the Lower District, the most influential power was undoubtedly the Godefiel Chamber of Commerce.
Who was this boy, to be able to produce the crest of a ducal family? Yet he’d heard that the Godefiel heir was a woman.
“My meaning is clear. Complete my commission, and you’ll get this as payment. You took those kids in—you don’t want them to be thieves all their lives, do you?”
Of course he didn’t.
Old Mike knew he was a wretch, and Wobei District was a cesspool.
But he didn’t want the kids to be like him. They deserved a better future. Even in a cesspool, a pure white rose could bloom.
Until now, he’d thought that was just a distant dream. But today, El’s appearance rekindled that hope.
“How do I know you’ll keep your word?”
Old Mike asked symbolically. He had an eye for people—the young noble before him wasn’t very deep; his feelings were written all over his face.
Old Mike could see it—this young noble was proud, above lying. Such a man would never break his word.
“My name is El Regis. We’ll use this to stay in touch.”
El tossed him a communication stone, seeing that Old Mike had already accepted the commission.
“El Regis…”
Old Mike rolled the name around in his mouth.
“You’ve made a wise decision. The Godefiel Chamber of Commerce can give your kids a bright future.”
“My kids aren’t going to be lapdogs for the nobility. Their future should be won by themselves, not handed down by the high and mighty.”
Old Mike was obviously opening up, speaking his mind freely.
El asked curiously, “So what do you want the Chamber of Commerce to do?”
“Build a school in the Wobei District. Keep the peace in that area—that’s enough. This place may be rotten, but it’s still our home. One day, my kids will change it.”
“Haha, that’s a sickening thing to say. I must’ve been influenced by you, young master El…”
Old Mike laughed at himself.
El replied earnestly, “Old Mike, that’s not funny at all. If you have this dream, you should make it happen.”
Old Mike paused, studying El carefully before grinning wide. “Yes, young master El, you’re absolutely right.”
He thought to himself, after all these years, to think he’d finally met a noble worth being a dog for.
Having settled things with Old Mike, El left with Ivena.
It was the most pleasant time of the afternoon. The autumn sun was no longer scorching—just warm enough to make one lazy.
“Good thing you were here today, Ivena, or I’d never have convinced Old Mike.”
“No, young master, it was your own wisdom and charm that won him over. Bringing me was also part of your wisdom.”
Ivena flattered him with complete seriousness.
“I’m really not good at this sort of thing. No wonder Karen always says I only know how to study magic—I’m practically turning into a bookworm.”
Ivena pampered El as always. “Young master, you only need to do what you like. When it comes to negotiations, I’ll assist you—just like today, things will work out.”
“…Ivena, if you keep this up, I’ll turn into a good-for-nothing.”
“As long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters.”
The maid replied.