Chapter 46: CH 45 – The Second Funeral (Part 2)

"Young master Micah! Wait!" a voice called out.

"What is it?" Micah turned around and scowled. "I'm in a hurry."

It was long past dinnertime and the capital city was shrouded in darkness. Tonight, there was no moon. Yellow lights flickered around the manor's courtyard, providing sufficient light towards the waiting black carriage, with its door held open.

"A message came for you. It's from your brother—it's from young master Luca," the servant gasped out.

"Ah." Micah's face relaxed, and he reached out a hand towards the red envelope. "Thank you."

He slid into the carriage and undid the seal.

Just what did he need to send that was so urgent? He left just this afternoon.

He rested the parchment under a glowing mana stone, and his eyes shifted through the text. His eyebrows furrowed together.

"Young master Micah, is anything the matter?" Selena, his new primary attendant, asked.

"Yes, something is the matter." He glanced up at her.

She was dressed in all black, with her face covered in a black mask such that only her hazel eyes stood out. Selena looked more ready to break in someplace rather than attend to Micah. And depending on how tonight's meeting went, she might have to.

"Henry's dead," he said. "I need to find another guard for Luca."

"How?" Selena's eyes narrowed. "Henry is not one to die so easily."

Micah slipped the letter into his breast pocket and gazed out the window. The carriage rocked its way through Western Genise, with wealthy western citizens walking through the brightly lit streets without a care.

"He went too far into the Humton Forest," Micah explained.

Selena swore under her breath. She had been the one to recommend Henry for the guard position to Luca, having grown up with him in the same part of the kingdom.

Micah tapped his long fingers against the carriage door.

But that's not the concerning point. If what Luca suggested in his note is true, there's something in the forest. Perhaps some of those ridiculous tales told by drunk merchants weren’t as far-fetched as everyone thought.

The carriage slid to a stop.

"Young master Micah, we're here." Selena jumped out and held the door open for Micah.

But I have more pressing matters to deal with for now.

He walked out into the dark alley that smelled of musky gutter water. There wasn't anyone else in this area except a large man standing in front of a pair of heavy iron doors.

The man tilted his head towards Micah, recognizing him, and opened one of the doors for him.

"I'll be nearby," Selena said and slid back into the carriage. The driver took off, and the wheels and horse hooves against the paved road echoed in the dark alleyway.

Ever since the fiasco of two years ago, it was established as a rule that none of the attendees of the monthly meeting could bring their guards or servants. Not that it stopped everyone from taking their own personal precautions. Micah had enough black protective mana stones embedded in his clothing to survive a blast from a high-ranking mage. To top off, besides Selena, several of his people were waiting on standby in the surrounding buildings in case the meeting went sideways.

You can never be too careful with this crowd.

Micah entered a brightly lit, grand hallway with emerald green carpeting and hanging chandeliers. It was a complete contrast to the dirty alleyway he entered from. Even the air felt expensive.

"Micah Frey?" A smiling woman with black hair pulled up in a tight bun motioned him to accompany her. "I will take you to our VVIP room."

He followed her, gazing about for any other individuals, but as usual, there were none. It was intentional by design. Neither he nor any of the other attendees cared to be seen together.

"Right this way," the woman motioned her hands towards a large gold-plated door with an intricate design depicting a great battle. "Today, we have set up this room for your enjoyment."

How appropriate.

Micah smirked at the design.

"How many have arrived already?" he asked.

"Only three of the twelve. You are the fourth," she replied.

Figured just as much.

The woman pulled the heavy door open, and Micah entered the circular room with jade columns and golden-framed paintings depicting other famous battles.

In the middle was a round crystal table with twelve seats, three of which were taken up.

"Ah, look who arrived exactly on time as usual," a man's voice sounded.

Micah's eyes gazed at Blythe 'The Menace' Calabrese, the head of the Hogshead Syndicate. He had his dirty boots up atop the crystal table and was leaning back in his chair, a flask in hand.

Tsk.

It was never a good sign when Blythe was drinking. It was a foreshadowing to something getting smashed. Blythe was about Micah's age and had taken over the Hogshead Syndicate from his older sister. The latter had died half a year ago. While Micah didn't care for the change in ownership, much preferring the sister's more reasonable character, he was impressed by Blythe's leadership skills. In his short time as Hogshead's boss, he had expanded his syndicate's reach into several cities outside Adovoria, including the Dylan Dynasty's capital.

If there's anyone that might be able to do something about the impending war with the Daylan Dynasty, Blythe might be one of the most useful ones at the table.

"You say that, but you arrived first. Before even our gracious host." Lady Agnese Hensley took a sip from a small tea cup in her hand. Her every movement indicated the upper class and privilege she had grown up with.

She was well into her forties and wore her graying hair with pride. Unlike most other attendants, she was born to a wealthy and noble Western family within Genise. Her specialty was information, and Micah had good intel that even the great Natalia Ashford was within this woman's shadow réseau.

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She might be the next most helpful person tonight. Perhaps in her information network, someone has heard of what happened to Prince Chase Daylan. If we can find him, there won't be a war to worry about.

Micah sat between her and Blythe. Across the table from him was their host and owner of the casino they were in, Marianna Gerlita.

"Micah, your brother wiped clean all of my most precious clients yesterday morning. Have you heard?" Marianna fluttered her silver fan with feathered tips. "It was his first time in my establishment, but he was quite the natural."

"I heard." Micah surveyed her fan, suspecting that beneath the fluffy white feathers, each of the silver ends was sharp enough to slice someone's head off.

Everyone has their own ways of taking precautions. Although she is probably the safest, this being her casino, after all.

Marianna was a woman whose age was a mystery. Still, Micah guessed it was somewhere between fifty and seventy, based on how long The Gilded Siren had been in her care. She was head of the Raven Syndicate, feeding on the greedy nature of those wishing to get rich quick.

"AH HAHAHA!" Blythe laughed and pulled his boots off the crystal table. "I heard about that. Your brother came in, bet a couple phoenix eyes, all on a fight that was guaranteed to be a loss, and won the damn bet!"

"It wasn't a guaranteed loss." Lady Agnese Hensley set her cup down and poured herself more green tea from a small clay pot. "The Ogre's opponent was Kleave, whose girlfriend is the notorious Kathy, the Belle of Poisons. With her as his backer, it was obvious that the win would go to her."

"Uh-huh. And I suppose you bet on Kleave, then too?" Blythe crossed his arms.

"Hmmph." Lady Agnese Hensley took a long sip of tea before replying. "I do not partake in the… recreation of gambling. So, no, I did not place any bets. I find the pursuit distasteful—apologies to our gracious host; I do not intend to offend your line of business."

"None taken." Marianna continued to fan herself. "I wouldn't allow you into my establishments anyhow, given how vast your information network is."

Creak.

The golden door opened, and the fifth attendee arrived.

Micah forced himself to control his expression, seeing who it was.

None of the monthly meeting attendees were particularly close. They were cordial with one another, preferring to avoid stepping on one another's lines of business. Still, it did not mean they were friends.

However, there were three syndicates that Micah was especially weary of. One was the Spiders, who were the most enormous and most dangerous of the twelve, but their head practically never attended these meetings. Then there was the Silver Eels Syndicate, whose interests were directly opposed to the Frey Merchant Guild and what Micah hoped to accomplish.

And then there were the Red Lanterns.

Great, the most useless and disgusting member has arrived.

"Ah, Dion, so good of you to join us," Marianna smiled at the short man that had entered.

Dion had a bushy brown mustache and wore a white crocodile leather suit with a red shirt peeking from underneath.

He slid into a seat beside Marianna and flashed a slimy grin at the rest of the attendees.

"Is anyone else joining us tonight? Or am I the last one?" he asked the group.

"Given the time, we ought to get started regardless," Micah replied coldly.

Micah didn't have a problem with those engaged in the adult entertainment and pleasure business. However, he had an issue with enterprises that didn't employ actual adults for such entertainment. And that was Dion's specialty.

"I suppose before jumping into our original meeting's agenda, we should address the issue that threatens to thwart all of our current operations." Marianna closed her fan and placed her elbows on the crystal table. "The missing prince."

The five attendees eyed one another.

Micah turned to Lady Agnese Hensley. "As the most informed one of our gathering, perhaps you know what happened to Prince Chase Daylan after he entered the bathroom at the Ashford Bakery and vanished?"

"HA!" Blythe scoffed. "And here I thought that you had done away with him this entire time. Isn't making people disappear your specialty?"

Micah frowned. "I have enough sense to not give the war-loving Daylan Queen a reason to attack where I live and do business."

"Mmmmm," Lady Agnese Hensley hummed. "I'm afraid my information won't make anyone happy. One of the mages in my réseau performed a tracking spell on one of the hairs found belonging to the missing prince."

"Oh my, Lady Agnese Hensley, you never cease to amaze me!" Marianna exclaimed and began fanning herself again. "So where is that missing Daylan prince?"

"He's dead." Lady Agnese Hensley raised her head to gaze over her long nose at everyone around the table. Her blue eyes stared at Micah in particular. "At this point, it matters not where he is. It was confirmed; his soul is no longer in this world."

"Hold up, doesn't it matter whether his body is found or not? And by whom?" Blythe cut in. "In one scenario, we have a confirmed dead prince on the Adovorian territory. And in another, he's simply missing."

"Blythe, it doesn't matter." Dion caressed his bushy mustache. "In my day, as the lovely ladies here will attest, Queen Yadana Daylan torched other nations for even the most mundane of slights. One country she tore apart because some people made a play about how war-hungry she was. And she took offense."

"And to your question, the body will never be discovered," Lady Agnese Hensley added. "But as Dion has stated, it doesn't matter. Queen Yadana Daylan would love any excuse for war."

Shoot.

Micah sighed. He leaned towards the cold crystal table and spoke.

"If he's dead, and all of us here would prefer to avoid war, then we have to cut the issue at its source."

"What do you propose?" Marianna asked. All four pairs of eyes stared at him expectantly.

Micah intertwined his hands together and rested his chin on them.

"We must pull Queen Yadana Daylan out of the playing field."