Perhaps the God of Knowledge and Wisdom truly blessed Ebner, as his first attempt at a charm-making ritual succeeded. With the remaining Manhas Monkey brain slices, he produced two more brass charms!
At 7 p.m., carrying his five charms, Ebner joined his mentor for the gathering held in the apartment behind the Braveheart Bar. This time, he no longer had to recite a passphrase; he simply found a comfortable seat and waited for the attendees to arrive.
Time passed, and by half past seven, people began to trickle in. Among them was the lady who had bought the "Seer" formula from him, known by the code name "Poisoned Rose." From what his mentor told him, she held some degree of influence and had deep pockets. Another familiar face was the woman who always sold Beyonder weapons, though she went by the alias "Artisan's Agent." There were others too, some called "Black Snake" or "Spider"—all dangerous individuals his mentor had mentioned, any of whom might lose control at any moment.
At exactly eight, Detective Isengard, disguised as the "Eye of Wisdom," surveyed the masked faces gathered around and chuckled.
"Quite the full house tonight, with a few new faces as well. Welcome, everyone."
"Let's begin."
As soon as he spoke, the woman known as the "Artisan's Agent" started the introductions.
"I have two Beyonder weapons for sale, both easy to carry."
"One is the 'Frost Claw,' which grants the wielder enhanced healing, minor boosts to strength and reflexes, and a significant increase in agility. When the claws hit a target, there's a 50% chance of inflicting a mysterious poison and a 15% chance of freezing the opponent in ice."
"These effects have been verified through extensive testing and data."
"It'll be effective for another year, priced at 450 pounds or in exchange for a 'Barbarian' formula."
That "Frost Claw" sounds impressive, likely crafted from materials of a Beyonder in the Mutant Pathway. If not for its one-year lifespan, it'd be worth far more than this price…
As Ebner mused, another attendee asked, "Are there any side effects?"
"Yes. Using it under a full moon causes the wielder to lose some rationality, though their strength is significantly increased," the woman replied. She continued without waiting for further questions, "The second weapon is a 'Cane Sword.' It looks like a regular ironwood cane with a gold inlay, but with the Ancient Hermes word for 'Draw,' it transforms into a 95-centimeter-long Loen officer's sword. As a cane, it has no supernatural powers, but it's extremely heavy, sturdy, and hard to break. In its sword form, it enhances the user's strength and agility and slightly mitigates the effects of certain supernatural attacks."
"This weapon has barely any side effects, apart from its weight, but it will revert to cane form permanently in less than six months. I'm asking 180 pounds for it."
Everyone was more interested in the first item, the "Frost Claw," and several bid on it. In the end, "Poisoned Rose" bought it for 550 pounds.
Meanwhile, Ebner was drawn to the cane sword—not just because he couldn't afford the "Frost Claw" but because this weapon was ideal for his current situation. It could provide a much-needed boost to his self-defense. Revolvers were great, but only if you could hit your target. A sword that enhanced his strength and agility would pair well with his rapidly improving combat skills.
"Cane sword, 190 pounds!" someone bid while Ebner was still weighing his options.
Startled, he quickly followed up, "200 pounds."
The previous bidder shrugged after a brief pause. "Alright, it's yours."
Ebner realized he might've just been tricked by a planted bidder, but he went through with the purchase regardless. The weapon was already his, and his mentor confirmed that the listed effects were legitimate.
Handing over the 200 pounds felt painful, reducing his total funds to 233 pounds. The savings were mostly thanks to living expenses and rituals covered by his mentor's hospitality.
"Looks like I'll need to sell a few charms to cover my costs," he thought.
With that in mind, Ebner retrieved three brass charms from his coat. After glancing around the room, he said succinctly, "Confusion Charms. When activated, these induce a one-to-two-second mental disruption in the target, and even mid-level Sequences will feel disoriented. They'll last for six months. 30 pounds each; I have three for sale."
On his way to the gathering, Ebner had given these charms the name "Confusion Charms," thinking they'd fetch a better price with a more impressive-sounding label. "Confusion" also felt clearer than "overload," since there were always a few patrons who might struggle to understand.
Just as his mentor had predicted, the charms were popular items. In the end, "Poisoned Rose" bought one for 50 pounds, "Black Snake" bought another for 45 pounds, and a newcomer purchased the third for 55 pounds. The last buyer had been brought by Kaspars, much like Ebner had been on his first visit.
After selling the charms for 150 pounds, Ebner felt financially secure again—until a few subsequent trades involving Sequence 7 main ingredients quickly reminded him of his modest means.
…
After the gathering, Ebner didn't head home with his mentor. Instead, he took a detour back to Braveheart Bar. Having encountered what he suspected to be Miss Sharon's wraith earlier that day, he hoped to speak with Kaspars for clarification.
Kaspars, as usual, was engrossed in his drink, and seemed to have anticipated Ebner's visit. Without waiting for Ebner to speak, he said, "She has no ill intent toward you; in fact, she even erased traces you left behind. If you have more questions, Maric is in the second card room. He and his friends are in there playing cards."
Ebner opened his mouth to speak, only to realize Kaspars had already answered his unasked question. Clearing his throat to cover his surprise, he whispered, "Since when did you start associating with people that dangerous?"
Kaspars paused, his pool cue hovering mid-shot. "My competition recently gained some powerful backing. I needed someone to counter them."
Ebner caught the hint of helplessness in his voice and sighed. "Nothing comes easy for anyone, I suppose." Too bad he was still too weak to protect anyone, even himself.
As for asking Maric… Ebner didn't even consider it. What could he hope to accomplish against a Sequence 5? Even the original protagonist, Klein, had only gained the restraint and respect of the Temperance faction after defeating a Sequence 5 master.
After a quick game of billiards, Ebner left the bar and made his way to the area near Grant's clothing store in the Cherwood Borough. At the corner near the shop, he waited five or six minutes before spotting a figure sneaking out of the store.
The figure looked around furtively before heading southeast.
"That figure… it does look a lot like Mr. Grant…"
After waiting a moment, Ebner trailed the figure at a reasonable distance, curious to see where he was headed.
"Looking around constantly means he's nervous, afraid of being caught. Yet he has no sense of how to shake a tail. He doesn't even notice me following so closely…"
Just as he was mulling this over, Ebner followed his quarry around a corner, only to come up short. It was a four-way intersection, completely dark.
In the thick fog of Backlund, the moonlight was so dim it was almost nonexistent. Visibility was terrible, and now he had no idea which way Mr. Grant had gone…
"He might not have known how to shake a tail, but my tracking skills clearly need some work…" he thought, feeling utterly embarrassed. With no better plan, he picked a random path.
After walking down a few more streets without catching a glimpse of Mr. Grant, Ebner reluctantly accepted that he'd lost him.
"Well, that's embarrassing. Good thing Jane and Xio don't know," he muttered to himself, then sighed and headed toward Detective Isengard's home in Hillston.
…
"So, no clues? Were you caught?" Detective Isengard asked, his curiosity piqued by his dejected-looking student.
"Neither… It was too dark. I lost him…" Ebner admitted awkwardly.
"Looks like you'll need a crash course in investigative skills on top of your mysticism training." Detective Isengard took a deep puff from his pipe. With skills like these, how could this kid call himself the student of Detective Isengard?
Ebner had no rebuttal, but a new idea came to him. Even if he began detective training now, he wouldn't be able to report back to Jane in time. He'd need a different approach.
The next morning, Ebner met with Xio at their usual East Borough cafe, and he seriously asked for her help.
"Xio, could you help me with something?"
"What is it?" she replied without hesitation.
"I need you to track someone for me tonight around 11 p.m. I need to know where he goes and what he's up to!"