Chapter 91: If They’re Killed, Then They’re Killed

Grayrock City, Noble District, North City.

A three-story stone building stood at a street corner. Its exterior was no different from the surrounding architecture, but the two guards standing at the entrance betrayed its significance.

They were retired soldiers from the regular army—sharp-eyed, standing upright.

This was Lord Baron Jasper’s residence.

In the second-floor study, candlelight flickered.

Jasper sat in a spacious armchair, holding a crystal wine glass. The liquid swirled gently inside, reflecting the flames of the fireplace.

He was in his early forties, well-groomed, with a head of brown hair combed immaculately. He wore an expensive velvet robe. At first glance, he looked like a respectable gentleman.

“Lord Baron.”

The steward walked in with a bow, his expression somewhat grave.

“There’s trouble at the Daily Goods Market.”

Jasper’s hand paused.

“Speak.”

“Grey Finger is dead.”

Jasper’s brow furrowed.

“Dead?”

“Yes.” The steward kept his head low, speaking quickly. “This morning, in front of a fruit stall at the Old Goods Market. Killed in the street. Along with him, one of his thugs named Tuomu was also killed. Their deaths… were brutal.”

“And the killer?”

“Fled. A person in a black robe with a mask, reportedly. No one saw their face, and no one dared to chase.”

Jasper was silent for a few seconds.

Then he gently swirled his glass and took a sip.

“Grey Finger…” he muttered. “Just an errand boy, but he worked for me for a few years. If I don’t make a move when one of my dogs is killed, who’ll want to work for me in the future?”

The steward said nothing, simply waiting with his head lowered.

“Investigate,” Jasper said. “Find out everything about that person. I want their information in thirty minutes.”

“Understood.”

The steward withdrew.

Jasper resumed swirling his wine glass, his gaze fixed on the dancing flames in the fireplace.

He was indeed angry.

One of his men killed in the street—it was practically a slap in the face. Though Grey Finger was a small-time figure, dead was dead, but the manner of death was too disrespectful.

Lately, the Empire’s political scene had been unstable.

The big shots up top were realigning their factions, and the wind could shift at any moment. To keep his footing, he’d been running around building connections, shamelessly digging for information—it had already worn him out.

And now, this trouble erupting in his own territory…

Jasper wanted to wave his hand and just go kill, kill, kill.

But no.

Years of composure still made him hold back.

Impulse and recklessness were fatal.

At the very least, he would check things out first before acting.

More than twenty minutes later.

The same study, the same fireplace flames.

The steward appeared before Jasper again.

“Found it?”

“Yes.” The steward handed over a thin dossier. “We’ve partially identified the person.”

Jasper took the dossier and opened it.

“Alpha. Female. Age unknown. Origin unknown. Usually moves about in a black robe, always wears a mask. Registered as an adventurer at the Adventurers’ Guild two days ago. Occupation listed as Magic Swordsman. Power level: Second Order.”

He looked up at the steward.

“That’s it?”

“Yes, Lord Baron. That’s all we could find for now.” The steward nodded. “She seems to have appeared in Grayrock City suddenly. Her previous whereabouts are completely untraceable.”

“The Adventurers’ Guild records only cover these three days—she took two commissions: one escorting a herb gatherer, one collecting ores. Both very ordinary.”

Jasper was silent for a few seconds, then looked back down at the dossier.

Magic Swordsman…

That occupation made him frown.

Second Order wasn’t that strong—he had two Third Order men under him, either of whom could easily suppress her.

But Magic Swordsman was a special occupation.

Someone who mastered both magic and swordsmanship was either a talented wild card or a noble child trained systematically from a young age.

If it was the latter…

Then things got a bit troublesome.

Jasper placed the dossier on the table and tapped the armrest with his fingers.

“Can’t trace her origin…” he muttered. “Either she really has no background, or her background is too deep—deliberately hidden or erased.”

The steward didn’t reply, simply waiting with his head down.

Jasper thought for a long time.

Then he sighed.

“Can’t stay silent about this either. Grey Finger’s dead. If I don’t step up, how will my men see me?”

He stood up, walked to the window, and looked out at the gray sky.

“Go call Vicorehand.”

—

Moments later, the study door opened.

A massive figure stepped in.

It was a burly man over two meters tall, with dark skin and bulging muscles. Every step he took seemed as if it would crack the stone floor. He wore heavy armor, and a greatsword nearly half his height hung at his waist.

Vicorehand.

One of Jasper’s two Third Order subordinates, occupation: War Knight.

“Lord Baron.”

His voice was deep and rumbling, as if vibrating straight from his chest.

Jasper turned to face him.

“I have a task for you.”

“At your command.”

“At the Daily Goods Market, an adventurer named Alpha has appeared. A Second Order Magic Swordsman. Today, she killed Grey Finger in the street. You know what that means.”

Vicorehand’s brow twitched, but he said nothing.

“I need you to test her,” Jasper continued. “Block her at the Adventurers’ Guild. Find some excuse to provoke her. If you can get her to fight, do it—see how deep her skills go. But—”

He paused, emphasizing his words.

“Her background isn’t clear yet. Don’t go for the kill. Don’t actually kill her. Just teach her a simple lesson.”

Jasper explained, “If she belongs to some faction, offending them too badly would make things hard to clean up later.”

Vicorehand nodded.

“Understood.”

“I’ll complete the mission, Lord Baron.”

He turned and strode away.

The study door closed behind him, making the walls tremble.

Jasper returned to his armchair and sat back down.

He picked up the crystal glass and swirled it gently.

The liquid spun in the glass, reflecting the dancing firelight. A shrewd gleam flickered in the man’s eyes.

“If she has no backing and is all alone…”

“Becoming a Second Order Magic Swordsman—that’s a rare talent.”

“Maybe I can take her in, nurture her properly. In the future, she might become a decent combat asset.”

Of course, if she didn’t know her place…

A sharp glint flashed in Jasper’s eyes. He let out a dismissive chuckle.

Just a commoner Second Order Magic Swordsman. What could she possibly do?

Killed, and that’s that.

With that thought, he brought the glass back to his lips and took a sip.

The mellow liquor slid down his throat, carrying a hint of bitter aftertaste—intoxicating.