It was a salacious tale of a San Sorus councilman and a wealthy widow.
The narrative was incredibly vivid.
"So, 'Urban Chronicles Magazine' is just a third-rate fiction journal?"
Seasoft scoffed, her opinion of Donovan plummeting even further.
Then she noticed Bairon deeply engrossed in the article.
Seasoft chided, "Isn't this a time for serious work? Perhaps someone should leave their unique preferences for late at night."
"Are you referring to me?" Bairon looked up, puzzled.
"Is there another magus in this captain's cabin who's as audacious?" Seasoft retorted.
Frank nodded in agreement.
"Sir, if you require such magazines, there are some in my bookshelf. But let's address the White Gull's predicament first."
"I am addressing it," Bairon handed the magazine to Seasoft, instructing, "Read out the first word of every line in this article."
"What's the point?" Seasoft muttered.
Yet, deciding to trust Bairon just one more time, she began to read, "On a cold winter night, I sat on the rooftop, gazing at the stars, missing you."
"Who is this letter addressed to?!" Seasoft exclaimed in astonishment.
"Why would it be like this?" Frank's eyes widened.
Bairon elucidated, "Embedding crucial information within generic messages that can be swiftly transmitted is a common clandestine method. Typically, only those familiar with such concealment techniques can decipher the hidden message."
To commoners like Frank and half-elves like Seasoft, this method of communication might seem astonishing.
However, Bairon saw through it instantly because magi of the Magus Tower often use such tactics to convey confidential messages.
Though the principle may be the same, the techniques of the magi would never be this primitive and naive.
Nonetheless, this inadvertently indicates that the information Stephen sought to convey wasn't very formal.
Once they genuinely uncovered an effective letter, the subsequent tasks became more straightforward.
Bairon and Frank took on the responsibility of leafing through the pages, while Seasoft was tasked with reading them aloud.
Evelyn, on the other hand, took up a pen to note down the contents, marking the corresponding publication dates of the magazines.
Half an hour later, nine meticulously extracted letters, arranged chronologically, lay spread out on the table.
Bairon methodically went through each, his expression growing increasingly grave.
The useful information within the letters was sparse.
However, tracking their chronological order revealed a stark emotional shift in Donovan after he settled in San Sorus.
All these letters were addressed to the same person.
In them, Stephen initially expressed elation at having escaped Rustburg, later showcasing his affluent living conditions in his new home to his lover.
Then, it seemed he stumbled upon something, leading to doubts about his beloved.
By the end, Donovan began cursing Rustwater Count and even included pointed questions towards his lover, demanding explanations.
This "lover" was undoubtedly Miss Monica Sullivan, the daughter of Rustwater Count.
Frank's hands began to tremble, regret filling him for having read these letters.
These letters hinted at a deeper narrative.
Rustwater Count was orchestrating a conspiracy against Donovan... and perhaps even Rustburg's brightest gem was entangled in it.
Why would the Count and his daughter target a mere commoner?
Frank couldn't fathom it, but he was certain that there was an even deeper secret behind all this.
Delving into such affairs wasn't within Frank's purview, especially when merely possessing these letters could be a death sentence handed down by the Count himself.
"Damn Donovan, he might get us all killed!" Frank cursed, clutching his head in remorse.
He'd agreed to forfeit the Legacy Treasure, hiring Bairon once, because of a looming fatal crisis.
Losing one's life meant losing everything.
Yet, if he could just give up the Legacy Treasure and bring a still-living Donovan back to Rustburg, perhaps Rustwater Count might show him mercy just this once.
What Frank hadn't expected was for Donovan to be embroiled in a monumental secret involving the Count himself.
Only the dead can keep a secret... and Frank was well acquainted with the Count's methods.
"Continuing with the plan to bring Donovan back to Rustburg might be your chance," Bairon suggested.
"Have you lost your mind?" Frank exclaimed, his eyes wide.
He'd much rather have Bairon dispatch Donovan in the sea if it was possible.
Bairon pointed to the letters on the table, "If I don't speak of these, and you don't either, who else would know you've seen them?"
"Right, as long as no one speaks of it, no one would know I've read these letters. Wait..." Frank's initial joy turned to concern as he glanced at Seasoft.
"Return the Divine Artifact to me, and I promise to stay silent," Seasoft interjected.
Frank's gaze then shifted back to Bairon.
Bairon spoke, "Seasoft, for now, you can assume Frank has withdrawn from the contest for the Legacy Treasure. We'll ensure his little secret remains just that - a secret."
"As for the final possession of the Legacy Treasure, we'll negotiate once it's truly in our hands."
Seasoft, harboring some trump card, flashed a confident smile, "Remember, those are your words."
Frank heaved a sigh of relief, "Lord Stewart, you've saved me once again."
"You're welcome. Now, I'll bring up Mr. Donovan, or should I say, Mr. Stephen."
Bairon exited the captain's quarters.
Frank hastily followed.
Commoners may fear magi, but they also deeply desire to become one.
...
Upon reaching the deck, Bairon spotted a golden head floating on the water's surface.
"Should I address you as Stephen King or Donovan Linton?" Bairon inquired.
"Of course, Donovan Linton. It's my family's name, and I wear it with pride. Stephen King is just a fool who believed in love. He deserved his fate," Donovan retorted.
"Enough, Donovan!" Frank loudly interjected, cutting off any further words Donovan might utter.
He warned, "Lord Stewart has agreed to the White Gull's employment. For your own sake, surrender willingly!"
"Haha, Lord Stewart," Donovan chuckled, "I admit you're formidable. The moment I saw you dispatch Dave Padorn's guards with a single move, I knew."
"But I'm not one of Padorn's guards. You can't kill me!" Donovan asserted confidently.
"I don't intend to kill you," Bairon grinned, "I plan to capture you alive."
"Then try your luck!"
Donovan sneered.
With a flick of his wrist, Bairon intoned, "Wind Blade!"
A blade-like gust, almost transparent, burst from his fingertips, flying straight for Donovan.
In a split-second move, Donovan dove deep into the sea.
The Wind Blade struck the ocean's surface, sending a spray of water skyward.
From a yard away, Donovan's golden head resurfaced, laughing, "Haha, missed me!"
Bairon's face remained serene.
With another gesture, he commanded, "Ice Blast!"
Instantly, the sea around Donovan began to crystallize into jagged shards.
An Intermediate Magus shouldn't possess the power to freeze the ocean, but the Windless Expanse Spell Field rendered these waters still.
A waveless sea, like a vast mirror, proved more conducive to freezing.
However, due to the vast salt content, the ocean froze at a pace three to four times slower than a freshwater lake.
Seizing this lapse, Donovan dived down once more.
Half a minute later, he resurfaced two yards away, smugly declaring, "You've failed again, Lord Stewart."
Bairon, unfazed, studied the forming ice thoughtfully.
"Despicable!" Frank roared in anger.
Donovan's retort dripped with sarcasm, "Such words, coming from a thief, are truly rich."
"I acted under orders!" Frank defended.
"My apologies, then," Donovan sneered, his voice dripping with irony. "I didn't realize I was dealing with a knight ever so loyal to his lord. Pray tell, knight, what's the story with the contraband on your ship?"
Frank's face reddened with fury.
"If I were you," Bairon interjected coolly, "I wouldn't waste breath arguing. Fresh water aboard is limited."
"Sorry, it was inappropriate of me," Frank hastily apologized, taking a few steps back.
Feeling the upper hand after evading Bairon's two attacks, Donovan taunted, "So, Lord Stewart, have you figured out how to defeat me?"
A ghost of a smile appeared on Bairon's lips, "Your mastery over hydrospells exceeds my expectations. In your current state, you could remain submerged for three days, couldn't you?"
"Indeed," Donovan conceded gracefully.
"After three days, hunger and depleted Mindergy would send me to the ocean depths."
Then, with a sinister grin, he added, "But you may not have the luxury of three days."
Frank's face grew even more anxious from where he stood watching.