Chapter 476: Can’t Hit Garrett, Hit Smallpox Instead!
A week later, Mr. Areszo sat under the table lamp, silently opening his notebook.
February 15th, playing cards at the tavern.
February 16th, playing cards at the tavern.
February 17th, playing cards at the tavern.
February 18th… You can’t keep being so decadent! Cheer up! Think of something!
February 19th, playing cards at the tavern.
February 20th, playing cards at the tavern.
Uh…
Actually, he hasn’t been completely idle… At least, every day he diligently observes the target’s daily patterns, venturing out early and returning late. Mr. Areszo is quite serious about it.
In the morning, he hides outside the Mage Tower, watching Garrett ride past the wilderness on a Silvermoon Deer, heading straight for the Oak Forest Medical Research Institute;
In the evening, from afar, outside a hospital in the woods, he watches Garrett ride the Silvermoon Deer, speeding through the fields back to the Mage Tower;
Or in the morning at the hospital, in the evening at the Mage Tower; morning at the hospital, evening at the hospital...
This chapter is updat𝓮d by freēwebnovel.com.
That deer, standing over two meters at the shoulder with antlers nearly four meters wide, is clearly a mid-to-high-level magical beast. Its combat ability is not weak, and its running capability is even stronger.
Mr. Areszo estimates that if it were to run at full speed, even if he could catch up, he would definitely expose himself...
Though the target really doesn’t match up to such a mount.
Mr. Areszo can see clearly, every time when getting on or off the mount, Garrett either steps on a stool to climb onto the deer’s back, is lifted up by a barbarian, or is picked up by the Silvermoon Deer itself… Without help, he can’t even climb up!
Oh, and there’s that barbarian!
Every time the target travels, there are either two or three people on the back of the Silvermoon Deer. The barbarian is also a near-high-level warrior, full of vigor and exceptionally vigilant. Having a warrior close at hand to protect the mage makes killing the mage more than twice as difficult.
And then there’s that elf beauty. Although it’s hard to tell how strong she is from a distance, occasionally she turns around on the back of the deer, her eyes brilliantly shining, chilling him to the bone.
Mr. Areszo feels it’s better to be cautious, preferably unnoticed, striking a fatal blow from afar. That kind of botched job where one hasn’t even succeeded before alarming the entire city and causing numerous spies to be rooted out, is something Mr. Areszo, the "Viper," won’t handle...
Speaking of which, that idiot who had half the city’s spies eradicated, what was his name? Never mind, it’s not important.
What’s important is that the target is really not easy to approach. Mr. Areszo made plans, overthrew them, and made them again, repeatedly shaking his head:
A truck breaks a wheel while moving, blocking the road?
A funeral procession passing by the target, and the coffin falls?
A rich man’s bodyguard chasing a thief, getting close to the target?
Creating these accidents, blending into the crowd and striking a deadly blow, is Mr. Viper’s specialty. But, the target always travels in the wilderness, and moves fast. A near-high-level magical beast, it’s not something a trap or snare could take down…
Never mind, better than staying in the Mage Tower, not leaving the house 365 days a year. Mr. Areszo shook his head and continued to play cards at the tavern.
In the smoky environment, many semi-true and mixed messages silently spread out.
"One pair of six."
"One pair of eight. … Have you heard? Those big shots, they’re going to skim money off us again."
"One pair of nine. … When do they not? Doing business in the city of mages, if you’re not skimmed by the magicians, can you even succeed?"
"One pair of queens. … To tell the truth, Nevis City is still a place with rules. As long as you pay your taxes on time, usually nothing big happens. If it were somewhere else, they could swallow you whole, and you’d have nowhere to go to reason it out."
"No thanks. … That’s actually true. But they’ve gone too far this time, I heard they’re adding a tax of eight or nine hundred thousand gold coins!"
"Eight or nine hundred thousand!!! What happened? Did the Radiant Church attack again?"
"No! … Apparently, someone up top said, they want to vaccinate everyone in the city against smallpox. You know, one gold coin each, so many poor people in the city, this money is bound to fall on our heads? —
Three of a kind fours with a pair of threes."
"Three of a kind sevens with a pair of sixes. — That’s too much! There are eight people in my family, I’ve already paid eighty gold coins, and they still want to skim more money from me? If I knew earlier, I would’ve waited until it was one gold coin per person!"
"Three of a kind tens with a pair of eights. They’re just forcing us to support those poor people. Last time it was public toilets and tap water that made us pay, this time it’s still us paying! The nobles don’t pay, the temples don’t pay, they just squeeze us!"
Mr. Areszo finished this round, quietly earning two silver coins, and quietly stood up. He entered the restroom, turned his coat inside out, put on a fake beard, and applied a few strokes to his face and hair. When he came out, he had transformed into another person.
This Mr. Viper squeezed through the crowd, ordered a glass of Dunbar wine at the bar, and naturally shifted to join another group of drinkers:
"By the way, have you heard… The stuff they inject into our bodies, it’s taken from cows?"
"What? From cows?!"
"How do you not know? It’s right there in ’Common Magician…’ whatever, it’s blatantly written!"
"Those magicians are too evil, taking advantage of us because we can’t see, blatantly squeezing our money!"
"It’s not just about the money! — My maid’s cousin, her sister-in-law was vaccinated, and from where they broke the skin on her arm, a thick layer grew, just like cowhide! Now it’s spread to her entire arm!"
"That’s terrifying, isn’t it?"
"Do you think, those magicians might be tricking us with this stuff, waiting until we’re about to turn into cows, then they’ll demand a ransom from us?"
"…Surely not? The archmages are still reasonable, besides, there are legendary mages watching!"
"But I heard, the one who came up with this stuff is a necromancer! From the plague school!"
"Necromancer…" The drinkers collectively shivered, even those who were drunk sobered up a bit. Then, Mr. Areszo saw a few drunks staggeringly finding excuses to leave the tavern, probably thinking of a way to go.
...Are they that afraid of necromancers?
Mr. Areszo chuckled silently. He too staggered out of the tavern, returning to his lodging. Before long, he changed into another appearance, took a carriage, and went to a club to play cards and chat.
Even without him stirring up trouble, some undercurrents of concern were quietly spreading in Nevis City. When real money is spoken out loud, eight or nine hundred thousand gold coins in extra fees, who will pay?
Even if the council could lower the cost by half, it would still be four or five hundred thousand, right? Lower it by half again, two to three hundred thousand?
That’s gold coins! Not coppers! And that’s on top of normal taxes! You should know, two to three thousand gold coins could buy a decent set of knight’s armor or an estate in the outskirts of Nevis!
The pain of a knife cut is felt by anyone!
Inside a high-end villa in the garden district, a dozen gentlemen in silk jackets passed around a drawing, occasionally emitting low laughter:
In the drawing, a woman was rolling up her sleeve to receive a smallpox vaccination. Beside her, there were already five or six people growing cow noses, cow horns, cow heads, even small cows sprouting from various parts of their bodies...
"Mr. Tangde’s pen is truly marvelous."
"The expression on that woman, extremely vivid."
"It’ll be published in the tabloids tomorrow, definitely spreading through every tavern, right?"
"I wonder how many people it will frighten…"
"…So, we must stop all of this." A gentleman wearing a deep blue velvet jacket with curly wool hair slammed the table. He stood up tall, waving his arms, trying to amplify his momentum:
"Even the mages can’t do whatever they want… Nevis City is everyone’s Nevis City, not just the mages’ Nevis City! They can’t just decide to take money and inject strange things into our bodies by just snapping their fingers and passing a bill!"
"Even if it’s a legend speaking?"
Someone asked softly from below. The speaker’s momentum faltered, his white curly hair seemingly also turning a bit gray. He paused, then struggled to respond:
"Even a legend can’t ignore the opinions of all citizens! Nevis City has a million people, it’s not up to him alone! Mage, temple, nobility, citizens, jointly govern this city, that’s the agreement made when the city was founded, written on the first stone slab at the foot of Igor
Peak, at the start of the mountain path!"
"The goddess teaches us to be kind, to be merciful, to care for the poor and sick who have neither clothes nor food." At the edge of the oval table, another person spoke softly:
"Just because ’we can already resist this,’ refusing to pay to free the poor from smallpox, that argument doesn’t hold water—at least, you can’t say it outright, openly in front of everyone."
"Do you oppose my opinion?"
"No. I just hope for a better reason."
"How about ’Vaccination leads to growing cow skin and horns’? "
"It’s been confirmed already, the horns are a rumor, a clown from a circus dressed up for fun. As for cow skin, servants of the God of Nature, and the goddess’s priests, as well as a pharmacist, have confirmed it’s just a simple dermatitis, easily cured with herbal remedies."
"…"
"Using such unfounded reasons to secretly incite the citizens is possible. Openly opposing the council, not acceptable. The rules of this world are ultimately in the hands of those with power—using fabricated reasons to attack the council, wouldn’t a legendary mage kill people?"
The initial speaker fell silent, quietly sitting down. But the person who rebutted him stood up from the shadows, looking around, raising his voice:
"Gentlemen, not wanting to pay, not wanting to pay for the poor, this statement can be said by ordinary citizens, we can’t say it. In the newspapers, in the squares, in the town hall meetings, we need stronger reasons—"
He paused, looking around. And the audience around him looked up with respect:
"Let’s be more specific, we need more noble reasons to support our goals! Gentlemen, at all times, we must be morally impeccable!"
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