Free Web NovelChapter 11: Lone Blade
Noon the following day, hunger stirred Xander from sleep. He rose quietly, careful not to disturb Elyra. The half-elf lay gracefully on the far side of the bed, her lashes fluttering faintly in peaceful slumber. She looked serene and beautiful, a stark contrast to the blood-soaked night before.
Xander washed quickly and slipped out of the Black Horn Eagle Inn. He had much to arrange before nightfall.
First, he returned to the market blacksmith and purchased two identical common curved daggers. A single blade could not fully unlock the potential of his [Two-Weapon Fighting] specialty. The third remained as backup — experienced fighters always prepared for broken weapons or lost blades in chaotic fights.
Next, he ventured into the northeast slums. The area teemed with desperate beggars and sharp-eyed informants willing to sell secrets for a handful of coins. Xander spent thirty silvers gathering intelligence on the Bleakhollow Gang’s movements, routines, and weak points. Satisfied, he bought food, supplies, and returned to the inn under the midday sun.
When he entered their room, Elyra was awake, rubbing sleep from her eyes. She stared at the bundles in his arms. "Young Master Xander, are we truly moving against the Bleakhollow Gang? There are only two of us."
She feared nothing for herself, only for him.
Xander handed her a warm piece of fresh butter bread. "We won’t be alone for long. This city is more rotten than we realized. Appealing to the city hall was a mistake from the start. No one here will help us reclaim Redoak Vale. We must rely on our own strength." He stood by the window, watching the bustling street below. "Eat. Afterward, I need you to head into the countryside."
Elyra nearly choked on her water. "The countryside?"
"Green Village and Fog Village. Andre and the others are probably straining at the leash by now."
"How do you know...?" Surprise filled her voice.
"I saw it that day. Andre slipped into Tanchapel looking for you. He wanted to rally the garrison and retake our lands by force."
Xander shook his head. "You still believed the city officials would send help then, so you calmed him down, didn’t you?"
A flicker of recognition crossed Elyra’s face. "Young Master, I think I understand your plan. If the garrison arrives, the Bleakhollow thugs won’t stand a chance. But... Tanchapel won’t allow armed men to enter openly."
"Have them disguise themselves and sneak in. I’ll handle weapons," Xander said casually, biting into his own bread. "You have ten days. I want the full twenty-man Redoak Vale garrison standing before me when you return."
Elyra’s eyes lit with excitement. This bold move — smuggling loyal guards into the city, would provoke the city hall, yet it carried the spark of real hope. Only this new Xander could inspire such confidence. The humiliations they had suffered demanded action.
"But when I leave..." Elyra hesitated, concern evident. She worried about leaving him unprotected.
"I’ll stay hidden here at the inn. Trust my current abilities. No one will find me."
Xander offered a confident smile. "Go. I’ll await your good news."
---
That afternoon, disguised as a simple countrywoman, Elyra left Tanchapel and headed south. Xander watched her departure from the window, a faint, cold smile touching his lips — laden with killing intent.
Sending her away served dual purposes. He genuinely needed the garrison’s strength, especially the young, loyal fighters from Redoak Vale. More importantly, tonight he would kill without restraint. Elyra’s presence, while invaluable, limited his full capabilities. Against Heiss, her righteous fury had nearly disrupted his perfect timing.
Sometimes, certain tasks demanded solitude. As a former Ruler of the Dusk, Xander understood force allocation better than most. The villagers who had fled gnoll-occupied Redoak Vale now sheltered in Green Village, Fog Village, and near Disk Water Lake. The garrison had stayed behind to protect them, frustrated and eager for revenge. They awaited only his order.
These men were strong, loyal, and battle-ready, but twenty alone could not defeat a trained gnoll warband. Deeper shadows lurked behind the invasion. Xander needed to uncover the true puppet master — possibly Uncle Miller, possibly others. Tonight would provide answers.
--- ƒreewebηoveℓ.com
As dusk fell and curfew approached, Tanchapel’s underworld came alive. Gang accountants tallied daily profits while novice thieves received beatings for failing quotas. Prostitutes lined dim alleys, their heavy makeup hiding exhaustion and worse. This was the gray underbelly where survival demanded compromise.
In the Pyroxene Bar’s fortified backyard cellar, candlelight flickered across dancing women. Two men lounged on a tiger-skin sofa, laughing wickedly.
"Young Master Farmar, I selected these dancers especially for your tastes. Enjoy yourself," the taller man said, pointing to a curvaceous performer. A prominent scar marked his heavy brows, giving him a ruthless air. This was Diapheis, leader of the Bleakhollow Gang.
The shorter man, Farmar, had dark circles under his eyes from excess. He stared hungrily at the dancer. "Excellent, Mister Diapheis. Eliminate that trash noble and I’ll convince my father to increase your investment."
Diapheis smiled calmly. "Many thanks. That boy Xander won’t escape. I already dispatched a team to hunt him. His head will soon float down the Pineflow River. Redoak Vale will belong to your father."
Farmar grinned fiercely. "Jean and his whelp held our family’s rightful lands long enough!"
"Of course," Diapheis replied. "The gnolls’ price was reasonable. Supplies were sent. Once Xander dies, everything falls into place."
Their laughter filled the room until a black-clad subordinate rushed in, whispering urgently in Diapheis’s ear.
Diapheis’s expression remained unchanged. "Send two teams. Such a small matter doesn’t require my personal attention."
The subordinate departed. Moments later, Farmar lunged at one of the dancers, dragging her toward a side room despite her protests. Diapheis waved dismissively. "Change of plans."
The door slammed shut, muffling sounds of struggle and lewd laughter.
Diapheis frowned, growing uneasy. One team had been gone too long without word.
The subordinate returned, whispering more bad news. "Two pieces of trouble. The riverside team was found slaughtered in the grove. Clean cuts from curved daggers — professional work."
Diapheis’s frown deepened.
"Additionally, our dock warehouse was torched, and a brawl erupted at the eastern casino. Our street crews are tied down."
"Someone is testing us," Diapheis growled. "Azure Snake or White Peacock, perhaps. Our rapid expansion has drawn envy."
"No matter. The Bleakhollow Gang’s rise is inevitable." Diapheis stood, grabbing a massive axe from the wall. "Send three teams to crush the disturbances. Kill everyone causing trouble."
"But that leaves only two teams here, plus average members," the subordinate warned.
"Who would dare challenge me directly?" Diapheis sneered.
At that moment, another underling burst down the stairs, pale with fear.
"Boss! Trouble upstairs! Someone’s tearing through our men!"
"How many attackers?!" the subordinate demanded.
The underling swallowed hard.
"...One."
