The Grey Ghost: Book Two of the Archaic Ring Series

by Reed R. Stevens

  What the hell could I have done? He watched Nyla’s back as he reflected on what had just happened. That guy probably would have gotten those goons to murder me if I’d tried to fight back. No, he definitely would have. He still might.

  Thinking of the young man, Nolan’s attitude took a dark turn. He’d been crossed many times in his life and felt anger on countless occasions, but he had never felt so vehement a hatred for another person as he now did. Judging by the way that everything had played out, he doubted that Dartan would simply let things go. Regardless of what had happened Nolan was convinced that the older boy would blame him for everything.

  He wanted to break that guy’s arms and legs along with each of his fingers and toes. After everything he’d done to them, he’d had the gall to say that he would never forget the humiliation that they had brought him? If that’s what he’d thought before his uncle had knocked his teeth out in front of dozens of people, then what now? Surely he’d seek revenge. As the son of the city lord he would surely possess the means to do so. That being the case, Nolan wouldn’t just stick his neck out for his throat to be slit like some sheep.

  City lord’s son? I had the highest grades in the county for three years. If a medieval piece of shit like you manages to outsmart me, then I deserve to die. Nolan had no idea how he was going to get back at the young noble, but at this moment he swore that he would do so if ever an opportunity ever presented itself. You think you’re better than me? Good, that’s just what I want!

  Staring at Nyla’s disconsolate figure, Nolan began to gnash his teeth. He knew that he had once again fallen into perilous circumstances, only this time was different than all those previous. Normally he’d be a mess of fear, angst, and confusion, but right now he was truly enraged. He needed to take some precautions as quickly as possible, get his hands on something that could give him an edge over a stronger opponent. Luckily for him, an idea had come to him earlier in the day after he and Nyla had visited the alchemy shop.

  Chapter Eight: Honing In

  Serp sat upon a long stone bench while carefully listening to the conversations of the many passersby. Though it was late in the evening, the famous Southern Square of Greenwall was teeming with people. As with most every street within the city there were food vendors posted all throughout, the scent of barbequed meat and grilled vegetables tickling at the nose of anyone within the vicinity. With so many cultivation resources surrounding him, he naturally felt tempted to drag one into a nearby alleyway, though he knew better. If he were to refine a person within the city then his aura would reflect the action, as those that cultivated the Blood-Burning Heart Technique gave off a particularly noticeable sense of malice both during and directly after refining the energies within a person’s blood.

  After crossing into the kingdom of Verdure his men had located a group of local bandits and then coerced them into revealing the location of their leader. He’d taken Russ along with him, the hotheaded youth from the inner court that always had a snarky remark in wait for any who made the mistake of proving themselves the fool in his presence. The two of them had taken great care to enter the city individually so that their auras did not complement one another, to the extent that each entered through different entrances.

  Naturally it was with a tremendous amount of trepidation that he awaited his junior brother’s arrival, and it didn’t help that it had been over two days since he’d refined one of these lesser peoples. His core cultivation method brought about a sensation of unparalleled euphoria that made every moment after the experience seem dead and dull by comparison. The withdrawal from abstaining was like an excruciating itch after the skin had already been scratched raw, and it only grew worse as more time passed.

  Serp sighed slightly as he considered all that he’d heard in the past couple of hours. Just on his walk from the southern gate to the Southern Square he’d heard over a dozen people denouncing his sect for the acts committed by the current selection of pupils undergoing the most recent trial of cultivation. Just as he and his peers had done many years ago, several thousand youths had been cast out from the sect in order to cultivate on their own for a set amount of time. If they failed to return or otherwise didn’t achieve the required number of breakthroughs then they would be cast from sect and killed in a discreet manner.

  The newest generation seems quite enthusiastic.

  He enjoyed an inward smirk as he recalled the time he’d spent in the kingdoms of the southern steppes. Thinking back to how he and Brecht had paired up after everyone in their respective groups of followers had been killed by the soldiers of a local lord, he couldn’t help but smirk. They’d made a great deal of progress as they raided their way through countless small communities and gradually built up a sizeable faction of other disciples that were also undergoing the trial. How quickly their blossoming friendship had degraded into a dynamic of master and servant.

  A fresh frown on his face, Serp considered the attitude of those around him with careful focus. He’d always known that public opinion of the sect was universally negative, but he’d never been to a kingdom where people were brave enough to openly condemn them. One never knew when a disciple might be blending in with a crowd, so most people kept their thoughts to themselves in fear of needlessly putting themselves in danger.

  Now that I think of it, almost all of the younger ones from our domain were sent off. That’s nearly ten thousand kids from Lord Elder’s domain alone. How much had the outside world changed since he’d last left the sect?

  Several boys ran by in a hurry, one of them tripping over his feet and tumbling to the ground with a cry. “Hold on!” he called after his friends, the group slowing down so that he could rejoin them.

  Humph, how carefree.

  At their age he’d already killed seven of his peers, one of which had been his bunkmate. Such was life for the parentless youths that had yet to earn admission into the outer court, a perilous position that all members of the sect were forced to experience save for those directly descended from a seated elder or someone with a higher standing. A scene of friendship and amiability was completely alien, as he had passed nearly every moment of his childhood on the edge between life and death. His only solace had been the endless schooling in hand-to-hand combat along with the mastery of martial skills.

  His head twitched ever so slightly as he watched the boys run off, at which point he took a calming breath and clenched his hands into fists so as to keep his fingers from shaking. The moment that he left this town he would find a discreet little hamlet somewhere and refine himself a family of farmers. They usually had sturdier constitutions than the city folk.

  Serp fought off a sneer as he stared around the bustling square. Verdure was different than the other kingdoms he had visited. He’d noticed countless people at the early levels of the Profound Entry stage, and that was just in this square alone. Greenwall likely had several thousand people at this level, perhaps a small percentile of its population. There were countless cities in Verdure that were larger than Greenwall and many of lesser sizes.

  He thought back to his fifteenth year, particularly to a series of short announcements made in the final moments before the onset of his trail of cultivation. No wonder the elders forbade us from venturing into Verdure.

  Lost in his thoughts, Serp noticed a thin figure approaching him from behind and turned to see Russ glancing around with trepidation.

  “You said the people of this city would be weak. I’ve seen at least ten people with higher cultivations than me since I walked through those damn gates. Why did I let you drag me along?”

  “It was never a choice.” Serp stood up and tugged at his sleeves, overly conscious of the crimson tattoos beneath the coarse fabric. “We shouldn’t linger. And do something about your fidgeting, it’s too noticeable.”

  “You’re one to talk. You look like you’re moments away from attempting to refine a stray cat!”

  “Just eat a blood breeding pellet.” It was possible to refine
the excess blood produced by the pellet. Although it didn’t provide many benefits toward their cultivations, it helped to lessen the impulses brought on by the fallout of the Blood-Burning Heart technique.

  He led Russ down the main street in silence for about half an hour, at which point the wiry youth finally spoke out. “So, where are we going?”

  “An auction house.”

  “What? Why?”

  “The medicinal pellets our sect makes are very rare in the outside world. People seldom get to see them, let alone lay their hands on them.”

  “You’re thinking Zaern’s killer might try to auction them off?”

  “It’s what I would do.”

  They found a small clothing store and purchased robes of higher quality than what they currently had on. After changing, they wandered around the southern district until they eventually located the auction house. A grand building of polished stone stood proudly at the heart of a busy plaza. Twenty large pillars of carved marble held up a great canopy that jutted out into the square for more than a thirty metres, which cast a large shadow upon those in the area.

  People streamed in and out of the building with a sense of purpose to their steps, constant throngs of motion throughout the wide flight of stairs that led up to the open entranceway. Once inside, they followed a few large signs that’d been fixed upon the walls of the large room and found their way to a densely populated great hall that spanned hundreds of paces in all directions. Serp couldn’t help but be impressed at the size of the building. This was only the first of several floors.

  At the far end of the room was a large wooden stage upon which two handsomely dressed men were lost in nonchalant conversation, as if unaware that they were the focus of over a thousand people. At the centre of the platform was a waist-high dais carved from cherry-coloured wood, no doubt the place where they would display the items up for sale. There were no chairs in this room, just the stocky stage and a vast stretch of bare stone floors.

  Ten minutes passed before one of the men excused himself and stepped off the stage, the other proceeding to the centre of the construct. Now the sole focus of attention, he held up a hand to silence the crowd. Most people quieted instantly but many scattered voices persisted for a minute or two.

  “Greetings, all.” The middle-aged man wore dark pants and a matching tunic pattered with gold brocade, a good match for his head of short, black hair. “I am the management official that will be overseeing tonight’s auction, with one hundred and nineteen items listed to be sold this evening. So long as you bid within the time limits and can afford to make the purchase, then you will receive any desired items without question. After the item has been purchased, you can proceed to the front office to retrieve it if you do not wish to stay for the remainder of the auction. If the seller discloses their personal information, feel free to contact them if you are interested in doing further business.”

  The man paused for a moment as his gaze swept the crowd. “Minimum bets must be at least ten percent higher than the present bid. Well then, let us begin.”

  At his command, a young woman garbed in a modest orange dress came onstage and placed an item onto the dais. It was a silver dagger with a glittering ruby embedded into the hilt. Apart from the clear sheen of the shiny metal and the dazzling sparkle of the scarlet gem, the blade had a sturdy handle of tough white leather that lent it an impressive sense of the immaculate.

  So there’s actually an arrayment practitioner in this city.

  “This here is a low-grade essence fusion weapon produced by Lord Glen, the most senior Arrayment Master in the city. The blade has been enchanted to leave a festering bite to any wound it inflicts. The starting bid is a thousand golden cards, or ten spirit stones.”

  Essence fusion weapons were frustratingly rare. Although Serp had saved over a hundred spirit stones from the monthly doles supplied by the sect, even he didn’t have one. Their ranks only had a handful of truly skilled arrayment practitioners, all of which were far too busy to dedicate their precious time toward creating weapons for their countless underlings. Essence fusion objects were coveted amongst their members, to the extent that weapons of such quality could only be obtained in the surrounding lands as far as the majority of the disciples were concerned.

  “Eleven spirit stones!”

  “Thirteen spirit stones!”

  As people began to place bids, Serp was quite tempted. No—I can’t risk drawing even the slightest bit of attention. He was clearly aware that there were several people in the room with cultivations on par with his own, not to mention that he was unable to sense the presence of the auction’s host as well as the man he’d been speaking to before the event began. Only elders of the sect and those from the Core Domain gave him such a feeling.

  In the end, the dagger was sold to a young nobleman for twenty-seven spirit stones.

  The next item up for sale was a golden ring decorated with a dozen tiny sapphires, with the ability to store an equal amount of energy to the capacity of a person’s dantian, so long as they were beneath the Integration stage. With this one could instantly recover their full strength during a dire moment, which could be a deciding factor in battle. After a fierce round of bidding the ring was sold to an old man in silky blue robes for forty-two spirit stones.

  Serp couldn’t help but wonder at the number of wealthy people present. Unlike many here, he wouldn’t rush to spend over a hundred spirit stones with such eagerness. It had taken him a lifetime to save up such a sum, as he usually had to rely on them as cultivation resources.

  It wasn’t until around halfway through the auction that a vial of familiar medicinal pellets was placed in front of the audience, causing Serp’s eyes to flash with focus.

  Lust-lasting pellets!

  “These peculiar medicinal pellets increase one’s carnal desires for a short period of time.” The host gave a wry smile. “Perfect for a night with the missus! There are thirty-two low-grade pellets within this vial, which will be sold as a single unit. The starting bid is twenty-five hundred golden cards, or twenty-five spirit stones.”

  Gentle laughter swept through the crowd before a storm of bidding unfolded. In the end, the vial was sold to an old gentleman in fine robes of purples and blues for a staggering amount of seventy spirit stones. Serp glanced at Russ and signalled for the boy to remain here to keep an eye out for the seller of the pellets. He quickly followed after the buyer, who immediately began to make his way to the front lobby in order to collect his purchase.

  He maintained a modest distance and discreetly eavesdropped on the conversation between the buyer and the employee behind the desk. After a moment, he heard something interesting.

  “Thank you.” The old man stored the vial of pellets in a spatial bag as a mischievous grin grew wide on his face.

  The woman behind the counter bowed lightly. “Good day, sir.”

  Just as he turned to leave, the old man paused and said, “May I ask, did the seller disclose their information? I might be interested in purchasing more of these pellets in the future.”

  The woman looked over a small piece of parchment. “These were sold to you by Astral Appraisals in the east district of the city, by the appraiser Geralt.”

  “Those appraisers are more merchants than anything,” the old man chuckled. “Just like them to advertise during an auction.”

  As the old man took his leave, Serp returned to Russ and led him out of the auction house.

  “What’d you find out?”

  “We’re making a trip to the east district.”

  They found the appraisal shop without much trouble. Within minutes they were situated in a small room on the second floor as they quietly awaited the clerk named Geralt, whose special skillsets they had specifically requested.

  After waiting for a little while, a short man dressed in a rich robe of dark purple stepped into the room. Sitting across from them, he showed a pleasant smile. “Hello, my name is Geralt. It seems that you’ve requested my
services?”

  Serp nodded. “You put an interesting batch of medicinal pellets up for sale at the auction house today. I was wondering if you might be willing to tell us who sold them to you.”

  Geralt gave a helpless shrug. “I am not allowed to discuss any information regarding customers that desire confidentiality. I’m sure you understand.”

  Serp placed five spirit stones on the table. “Are you sure?”

  Seeing the stones, the man hesitated.

  He added another five.

  Geralt collected the spirit stones. “The seller was a small group of youths, four of them. I can’t tell you their cultivations, as I couldn’t sense them, but I can describe their looks. There was a big one, half a head taller than you with great arms like a golden ape. As with the other two boys, this man had brown hair. The younger ones were about the same age as your friend there, brown-eyed and a finger’s length taller than I. Lastly, the girl’s hair is darker than mine and reached down to her waist. A beautiful thing, she was. Skin slightly darker than the boys’, just like the man’s. They might be related. They’re probably not wearing the same clothes though.”

  “Do you know where I can find them?”

  “No, I do not.”

  Serp set a pile of twenty spirit stones atop the table, white light pervading throughout the room. “Think very hard. Did they say anything that might help me locate them? We’re friends, you see, and we haven’t seen each other in a while.”

  Geralt deposited the spirit stones into a spatial bag. “They mentioned the name Remus during conversation. I doubt it’s him, but there’s a successful merchant within the city of the same name. Though it’s unlikely, perhaps they are one and the same? Whoever this fellow is I’m sure he might know where to find them. Aside from that I…” He shook his head.