Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Person Behind the Door

Kevin and his companions took up temporary residence in the little thatched hut. The family was so destitute that aside from a table, a chair, and a bed, there was almost nothing else in the house. Mosquitoes and bugs bred freely, dust covered the floor, spider webs hung in corners, and mold crept across many surfaces. To make this place habitable would require a great deal of effort.

Fortunately, a wind mage was among them. Jack easily conjured a whirlwind, sweeping out all the clutter and filth, tossing it out the door. However, Jack suffered from a peculiar compulsion: asymmetry made him deeply uncomfortable. If there was a hole in the left side of the door, he could not resist making one on the right. If the inner bedpost was moldy and unsightly, he would chop off both the inner and outer bedposts for the sake of balance. At night, passing an ant whose antennae were uneven, he flicked a wind blade with his finger, trimming them even before he could sleep peacefully.

The others could only react with speechless resignation. After all, these were just his quirks.

In the middle of the night, Lau Lu went around waking everyone in turn, preparing to scale the wall. He reminded them that unless absolutely necessary, they must not use magic, as magical fluctuations could be detected. Kevin and Jack took this very seriously, adjusting themselves to their best condition and carefully inspecting their weapons.

In the end, it was all very straightforward. They reached the outer wall quietly. Lau Lu tossed a rope with a loop, and scaled the wall with ease. Just like that, they slipped into the enemy’s main city—more specifically, a border stronghold—as if it were child’s play.

"It’s just like climbing into our own backyard," muttered Little Spoon, unable to hold back. "Just a hop, and we’re in."

"Haha, what’s the point of leaving these little countries around?" Jack laughed. "Why not just march the army in and take them over?"

Kevin only shook his head. "There are many issues here. Sometimes it’s better to leave small countries be. Think of it like a millionaire and a beggar—no matter how rich, a millionaire won’t bother robbing a beggar for a few copper coins. The gain is negligible, and too many coppers just clutter your pocket."

As he finished speaking, a row of torches suddenly flared up nearby, illuminating the section of the wall as bright as day. The leading guard shouted, "Who goes there?"

Everyone’s expression changed. Lau Lu instantly melted into shadow, vaulted back over the wall, and dashed away at speed. Kevin and the others followed, arrows whistling after them from the archers behind. Little Spoon flicked her wrist, and a flash of cold light swept through the air, forming a barrier that knocked each arrow aside.

They ran for several miles before stopping, relieved that no one seemed to be in pursuit. Still, no one was quite at ease, so they continued further before finally resting. Only then did Kevin notice that Little Spoon wielded a silver spear, the shaft segmented and apparently extendable. With a twist of her wrist, the weapon contracted into a short spear, barely the length of her arm.

Lau Lu stood to the side, face dark. The failure of the wall-scaling was clearly his responsibility, but he still could not understand. "How could this happen? Just three months ago, I came and went through this spot at will!"

"Maybe they’ve tightened security?" Little Spoon guessed, unconcerned. "At least everyone’s safe."

But Kevin was just as puzzled. He’d been to this kingdom before. It was a land of decay, chaos—almost primitive. Although his last visit was years ago and lasted only a week, he’d traveled enough to know that reforming such a country was a herculean task. Soldiers sought bribes, corpses lay unattended outside the city, and corruption ran from top to bottom. Judging by what he’d seen and heard during the day, nothing seemed to have changed. There had been no rumors of new policies or a change of king.

So why had they been so precisely ambushed? Was their supposed laxity all an act, a strategy to lull outsiders? Was night watch actually strict? Or was there another reason?

"Whatever the case, we must still get inside," Lau Lu decided. "But our group is too conspicuous as it is. Tomorrow, we’ll split up and try to get in separately. If all else fails, bribe our way through."

The others were startled, but raised no objections. The three of them were assassins, more experienced than Kevin or Jack. Kevin was a bard, used to wandering the world, and Jack, though a mage, carried a certain status even in backward lands. Ultimately, none of them saw this kingdom as a real threat. Even after the ambush, they’d escaped easily.

Meanwhile, in the Lebochier Border Security Office, several squad leaders entered, laughing and chatting. Only when they stepped inside did they grow serious, saluting. "Sir, someone really did try to sneak over the wall tonight."

"And?" The chief security officer asked from his seat.

"They got away," the soldier replied.

"How did you let them escape?" The officer roared.

"They got away, so they got away." The soldier seemed to have seniority.

"What did you say?" The officer’s face darkened, voice rising.

"There are always people sneaking over the wall. We never bothered catching them before," the soldier muttered, clearly dissatisfied.

The officer flushed with anger. "Get out of my sight!"

The soldier left, almost gleeful, as if pardoned from a death sentence.

With a sigh, the officer locked the door and windows, then moved a painting aside to reveal a hidden door. He knocked gently. "General, did you hear?"

A hoarse voice answered from behind the door, "I heard."

"General, don’t misunderstand. Our discipline is actually quite strict. Normally, no soldier would dare speak to me like that," the officer explained. "It’s just that this one is about to retire, and is hard to control."

A chuckle sounded from the other side. "So, another failure."

"But at least we stopped them from getting into the city," the officer argued, seeking to salvage some credit.

"Why didn’t you go yourself?" came the question.

"I... I had important tasks here, I couldn’t leave," the officer defended.

"Enough," the general replied with a bitter laugh. "The incident with the poisonous forest and the attack on new recruits has caused a huge uproar. They’re investigating all the mercenary companies, but it’s all for show. Given their typical style, I expect the real assassins are already on their way."

"If you want to stay alive, do as I say."

"What does this have to do with me?" the officer asked in terror.

"Not all investigations find the real culprit," the general sneered. "If the assassins can’t uncover who orchestrated the attack in the Poisonous Forest, they might choose a scapegoat. You’re the local chief of security, with three thousand men under you. Your head would make a fine trophy."

"Too important, and assassination risks an international incident. Too minor, and it’s not worth the trouble. You’re just right. Understand?"

The officer lowered his head, clenched his fists, then relaxed his grip.

"Among those who came today was a group of priests and a bard. Highly suspicious. I observed them in secret and will draw their portraits for you. From tomorrow, every checkpoint must be vigilant."

"Yes, sir," the officer nodded. "We’ll make sure they don’t get in."

"They must get in!" the general corrected him sharply. "Only then can we capture them. If you just block them, do you think they’ll never find a way in? Your sorry wooden palisade couldn’t keep a child out."

"Understood," the officer agreed.

"I’ll make two sets of portraits—one real, one fake," the general continued. "Post the fakes on the city walls. When they see them, they’ll think you’re idiots who can’t draw. But keep the real ones on hand, check every entrant carefully, and let them in if you spot them. Then set your trap."

"Of course, no problem!" the officer nodded eagerly.

"Loupaul has bullied us long enough with their hegemonic ways. It’s been tough for all the small border nations—I understand. Normally, there’s little chance for payback. But if you can catch assassins from Loupaul, you’ll be a national hero. Not everyone gets such an opportunity—remember that."

"Thank you, General," the officer replied, overwhelmed with excitement.

Suddenly, sheets of paper slid out from under the door. The officer picked them up and saw they were portraits of those very people. It was clear the man behind the door had planned this in advance, and his artistic skill was extraordinary. The real ones were lifelike, the fakes mere childish scribbles.

"I’ve marked ‘real’ in the corner of the genuine portraits, and ‘fake’ on the others. Make sure your men don’t mix them up," came the voice. "If you post them on the wall, remember to tear off the part that says ‘fake’."

"Understood." The officer saluted the door, but heard no further response.

The next morning, Kevin and Jack set out for the city as agreed, while Lau Lu and the other two left beforehand. Their skills were formidable, so there was little worry for their safety. Once inside, their parrot familiar relayed messages, confirming their safety. Avian reconnaissance was notoriously difficult to counter; familiars often slipped into a migrating flock, almost impossible to spot, and no one could slaughter an entire flock on the off chance of catching a spy. Even powerful nations suffered headaches dealing with this, much less a small country.

Kevin and Jack waited until noon before making their move. The sun blazed overhead, the heat driving everyone indoors. Guards would surely be at their most relaxed.

Arriving at the gate, they made no effort to disguise themselves. After all, a fleeting glimpse last night was unlikely to make them memorable, and even if they were, it would only be to a handful of soldiers unlikely to be on duty. With Lebochier’s notorious inefficiency, Kevin had no concerns.

But at the gate, they found several portraits posted. Upon inspection, none bore any resemblance to them. The drawings were crude, and each had a corner torn from the upper right—identical in every case.

"This is unbearable," Jack muttered, frowning.

"What’s wrong?" Kevin asked.

"Look at these portraits. The torn corner—they’re asymmetrical. It’s driving me mad!" Jack sighed.

"Control yourself," Kevin advised. "Don’t make a scene. Besides, none of them look like us."

"Right," Jack replied, saying no more.

Yet Jack’s comment made Kevin suspicious. Why tear off a corner for no reason? He caught a glimpse of the portraits in the soldiers’ hands—neat corners on all four sides, though the contents were hidden from view. The soldiers themselves wilted under the noon sun, heads down or leaning against the walls, some hiding in the shade and fanning themselves. Their minds seemed dulled by the heat, and no one paid Kevin any attention as he approached.

"Something’s off," Kevin said, halting. "Let’s go."

"What? If we turn back now, we’ll look suspicious," Jack protested.

"The atmosphere is wrong," Kevin insisted. "Better to be exposed now than later, when escape might be impossible. Go!"

With that, the two turned and hurried away.

At the gate, the soldiers all "woke up," exchanging puzzled glances.

"Who blew our cover?"

"How could anyone blow cover while pretending to sleep?" someone else wondered.

"Should we pursue them?" a soldier asked the squad leader.

"Pursue what? Run in this heat? If the higher-ups’ plan failed, what’s it to us?" The squad leader waved them off. "Just act like nothing happened."

Kevin and Jack ran until they were sure no one was following. The heat had them drenched in sweat. Jack immediately summoned his parrot and described the situation, instructing it to fly into the city and find Lau Lu for advice.

After a moment, Jack stood up. "They said to have the mercenary company create a disturbance at the gate, and we’ll slip in during the chaos." His magical connection to his bird allowed for short-range communication.

Kevin was speechless. He knew small countries operated differently, but still found it hard to accept that mercenaries could openly storm a city gate.

But it was a solution, so they walked back. By then, chaos reigned at the gate. A horde of ragged mercenaries was shouting and swinging weapons, though it was more bluster than battle. The mercenaries’ battered weapons, surprisingly sturdy, easily broke the regular army’s swords. Yet the mercenaries pressed no advantage, only mocking the soldiers’ inferior arms. Clearly, they knew their limits. The regulars, unable to cope, called for reinforcements, but by the time help arrived, the mercenaries had melted away, leaving behind a field of broken swords and a chorus of jeering.

Kevin and Jack had already blended into the city, making their way to the designated meeting spot where several mercenaries stood guard. On seeing Kevin and Jack, they greeted them warmly, genuine excitement lighting their faces.

Soon, Kevin and Jack were ushered into a small room. The escorting mercenary apologized, "This is Lord Lau Lu’s arrangement. He says you’re not to know too much for now. Please rest here."

"That’s fine," they replied without complaint. After all, Jack was only a junior officer, Kevin an untested recruit. Their lack of rank and power justified Lau Lu’s caution—even if Kevin was the author.

Elsewhere, the security chief again locked his door and window, moved the painting, and knocked on the hidden door. "General, are you there?"

"They’re in the city already?" the general asked bluntly.

"I don’t know how, but they saw through our plan. They even colluded with the mercenaries to create a disturbance at the city gate," the officer replied, troubled.

A sigh came from behind the door.

"What should we do now, General?"

"Do you have the means to investigate every mercenary company as thoroughly as Loupaul?" the general asked. "No need to answer—I know you don’t."

The officer fell silent. The mercenary companies here were so powerful that even the regular army struggled against them. The king had tried several times to curb their influence, all in vain. If war broke out, the consequences would be dire.

"Listen," the general instructed. "Spread rumors, draw out the snake from its hole. I’ll send you detailed instructions—don’t mess it up."

"Yes, General!" the officer replied, then asked, "General, why are the smuggled weapons stronger than our regular army’s arms?"

"You get what you pay for," the general replied. "We have quality weapons, but the funds you provide only buy what you received. Or perhaps you should check where the rest of that money is going."

The officer quickly bowed his head, not daring to say more.