The Legendary Fool - Chapter 83: Infiltration

As Tom took in the cacophony of the Nameless District in, he found himself looking back on the time he had spent in the squalid town; contemplating on the realization that it might be the last time he got to take in the bustle of the main drag as dozens upon dozens of dungeoneers fought not just for a good bargain, but the very right to exist in the district itself.

Perhaps to the Nobles, their existence was a pitiful one. Tom, though, had come to acknowledge the dungeoneers of the Nameless District, as they staked their very lives on the line to seek out their desires. Wealth, fame and possible glory, if they were granted admission into the Noble District.

Would his opinion be different if he was born in Artezia, instead of looking upon the dynamics of the District from the lens of a foreigner from a wholly different plane of existence?

Likely.

However, none of that would change the simple fact that Tom would miss the District, along with the energetic, motivated dungeoneers that populated it.

Zirel had made it clear that while using the Elite Guard’s crest would be the safest way of making it through the Royal Knight’s checkpoint, it would also come with its own unique set of consequences. Namely, the odds of his entry into the Noble District going unlogged and uninvestigated were next to none, putting their mission on a clock.

Anywhere from two weeks to a month.

That meant that the moment he returned, they needed to unlock the inheritance and enter the Zelez Dungeon within the next two to three days. A week was the maximum time they could take to clear the final sector, as per the rules set by the Divine System itself. Any longer and it would simply reset and along with it, their chance at truly clearing the Zelez Dungeon.

Tom had been hesitant on staking it all on this one chance, but Aleph had been adamant about it—- either they cleared it on the first attempt or they would never clear it. He had argued against her for a while, yielding only after she countered every point he brought forward with facts.

If they weren’t capable of clearing it, odds were that they wouldn’t survive until the dungeon reset anyway. Besides that, Aleph and Zirel had already exhausted all other avenues of leveling their respective Soul Cards and neither of them could afford to stay in the Nameless District much longer anyway.

‘I guess this is it,’ Tom thought to himself as he cut through the throng of dungeoneers crowding the Nameless District’s main drag. Most people in these parts were wise enough to steer clear of the unknown and Tom’s hooded silhouette, black wooden mask and his confident, imposing gait certainly helped give him the air of an enigmatic, possibly dangerous individual.

Tom allowed himself a final, lingering glance at the makeshift wooden stalls spilling onto the main street without any rhyme or rhythm, the animated faces of dungeoneers engaged in bouts of haggling and the myriad sounds and smells, some oddly pleasant while others, most decidedly not.

He had come a long way, both from Earth and from the person he used to be.

Then, he took a step onto the rough dirt road that led to the tent painted in the Royal Knight’s livery; the checkpoint that he needed to cross to gain access to the Noble’s District.

As he traversed the winding dirt road that switchbacked up a small ascent, it occurred to him that the role he had been acting out had at some point, mired itself into reality. He was no longer afraid of even the most experienced of dungeoneers in the Nameless District. Similarly, the Royal Knights’ livery was longer capable of inciting the dread Serawin had upon their first encounter, immobilizing him with the strength contained in a single arm. Back then, the Royal Knight hadn’t even needed to consider using his [Soul Card] to leave him completely helpless.

Now?

Based on Zirel’s understanding, the average Royal Knight was a little weaker than the Nottrakon Family’s Elite Guards, though the former had more experience dealing with direct confrontations. Though Zirel didn’t voice it out loud, Tom was pretty sure that the Elite Guards were trained to handle things in a more subtle, underhanded manner.

Of course, that was without adding their respective equipment into the mix. The Royal Knights served the interests of various Noble Families, sometimes as a collective, while largely focusing on duties delegated to them by the Noble Family they pledged allegiances to.

That implied a large difference in the quality of equipment supplied to them, largely proportional to the value the pledgee Noble Family saw in the Royal Knight.

Naturally, it could not compare to equipment supplied by the Nottrakon Family. The Royal Knights were largely recruited from the Nameless District, which meant that their loyalty could only be trusted to a certain degree. While the Elite Guard was handpicked from two or three bloodlines that had been serving the Nottrakon Family for decades, a revelation that had allowed Tom to understand the severity of Zirel’s crimes in totality.

Regardless, the fact remained— Zirel had killed three Elite Guards on his lonesome. If the Royal Knights were weaker than them, Tom was confident in surviving even if Serawin and Nvein came at him together.

His confidence was no longer something that needed to be feigned.

“Halt!” A familiar voice boomed out, a hint of soft-spokenness spilling into the otherwise formal tone.

Nvein.

The Royal Knight’s towering silhouette stood before him and the lone entrance to the Noble District, his emerald eyes locking onto Tom’s figure. Tom saw a trained caution within that gaze, the Royal Knight’s body language conveying a combat readiness that he had seen only from seasoned warriors. In contrast to their first encounter, Tom stood there unflinchingly as the two individuals sized each other up.

His composure allowed him to observe a facet of Nvein’s persona that he hadn’t picked up on before. His imposing physique, the long, jagged scar originating from the tip of his chin before falling beneath his neckline and the air of a grizzled warrior, his light-emerald eyes were surprisingly calm and gentle, even as they cautiously studied him.

Nvein might put on a stern front, but he had allowed Tom to sneak back into the Nameless District without recording his name in the log.

Had he chosen a post at the border precisely so he could ensure that the punishment for over-enthusiastic trespassers wouldn’t be too excessive? Tom didn’t know how severe a crime it was for a commoner to infiltrate the Noble District, but it had been enough for Serawin to hurriedly sneak him out to the border and it hadn’t seemed like the first time he had employed that particular tactic in tandem with Nvein.

“I’m here under the orders of the Nottrakon Family,” Tom spoke in a deliberately clipped tone, his words coming across as formal and largely unimpressed. “Private business,” he added before Nvein could get his response in, with his voice lowering to be barely above a whisper.

Though it was subtle, Tom didn’t miss the change in Nvein’s expression— from trained caution to active wariness— as his features tightened up by a degree. His brows brought slightly closer to a frown, his lips slightly pursed and the undercurrent of tension flowing down to his sword arm, that tightened its grip on the sword’s hilt as a response.

“Can you prove those claims?” Nvein asked warily.

Tom nodded and then began to reach for his back pocket with his left hand.

“Slowly,” The Royal Knight warned, his gaze now firmly trained on his every moment.

Tom nodded again to confirm that he had acknowledged the Royal Knight’s request, before cautiously retrieving the metal emblem that Zirel had entrusted him with.

An Emblem that belonged to a now deceased Elite Guard of the Nottrakon Family.

It’s surface was cool to the touch, but the violently red energy buzzing across it’s surface clearly wanted to be noticed.

He gingerly offered it to Nvein, who observed it for a few long moments before plucking it from his open palm.

Tom observed silently as Nvein fiddled with the emblem, even going as far as to apply pressure on random points across its periphery. Which, admittedly, did make him a little nervous.

Then, without any warning, he reached for a tear in the void and pulled out a translucent, ovular stone.

Tom’s attention was drawn to its smooth, polished exterior, observing as sunlight played upon its surface. The material’s translucency allowed the rays to pass through its outer shell, gently illuminating its inner textures and revealing the stark lack of any inclusions marring it’s interior. The captivating sight only lent credence to Tom’s theory, finding the stone’s make a little too perfect to be in its naturally occurring state.

Tom’s curiosity only deepened as Nvein flipped the metal emblem, revealing an ovular indentation on its back that he hadn’t paid much attention to beyond a cursory glance.

He slotted the translucent stone into the depression, it’s dimensions completing what Tom suspected to be the true, finished version of the Elite Guard’s insignia.

It took every bit of willpower that he could assign in the heat of the moment for him to not flinch as the metal emblem flared to life, the blood red energy exploding outwards in a cascade of motion.

A three-dimensional hologram was now projected from the metal emblem, a technology that would have been more fitting in Tom’s old world. A few moments passed before the hologram fully realized the crest it was trying to display.

Tom recognized the ornamental shield as the same one that had been carved onto the metal emblem, a cross engraved in an unfamiliar script that intersected in the middle; dividing the shield’s surface area into four quadrants. Each quadrant was further inlaid with a different precious gem, their shape and depth far more prominent in the holographic image.

He had naturally assumed the shield to be the Nottrakon Family’s coat of arms, but it appeared that he was greatly mistaken.

Had Zirel expected him to know his family’s insignia simply because most people in the Syrelore Kingdom were likely to?

Regardless, Tom hadn’t been expecting a three-dimensional depiction of a scaled arm that had five long, violently sharp claws puncturing through the shield’s center.

“You are indeed who you claim to be,” Nvein acknowledged with an approving nod, the tension leaving his clenched fist. “I can let you pass, but I’m afraid that I will have to report your entry to my superiors,” he added in a far more friendlier tone.

“Is that necessary?” Tom asked, letting his words linger for a few moments longer than appropriate. “I thought I made myself clear,” he added in a slow cadence that spoke of his composure just as Nvein moved to answer, his words carrying an undertone of authority.

Nvein let out a sigh, before answering, “The orders are strict. I’m not sure if you are aware, but there has been a development that has left our district on edge. Some sort of self-disguising card that can—-”.

Tom moved more by instinct over meticulous thought as he took a step closer to Nvein, before leaning in conspiratorially.

“I am here to take care of that anomaly,” Tom emphasized the final word, as if to hint that he knew more about the situation than most.

Nvein’s eyes widened as he took in Tom more carefully, then realization dawned upon his features.

“Is the infiltration that deep?” Nvein asked worriedly, a bead of sweat running down his forehead as he had all but whispered the question.

‘What?’ Tom thought to himself, baffled by Nvein’s response.

A tense silence befell them as Tom slowly puzzled out the connection Nvein had made with his request to not inform the Royal Knight’s superiors with possible infiltration in the upper echelons of Nobility.

“Possibly,” Tom replied. “Two weeks. That is all I require.”

A brief moment of hesitation passed Nvein’s visage, before the Royal Knight followed through with an official salute.

“Wait here. I will clear the tent so that you can slip away unnoticed,” he explained, before walking away hurriedly.

As Tom watched the Royal Knight’s receding back, he couldn’t help but entertain an half-amused, half-worried thought,

‘This wasn’t how things were supposed to have gone.’