Chapter 88: Small Evening Gathering. (1)
Night covered the city with a uniform mantle, without startles. From the high windows of his mansion, darkness extended beyond the gardens, where streetlamps barely managed to outline fragments of terrain. The rest remained submerged in continuous shadows.
Bernard Sargas observed in silence.
He remained by the window, with one hand resting on the frame and the other loaded with rings that caught the little available light. They were numerous, each one different, encrusted with gems of varied tones. Some emitted a faint glow, others remained opaque, but all formed part of his usual repertoire.
His figure stood out for its volume. It wasn’t a neglected build, but a body accommodated in excess, sustained by a life without restrictions. His head, completely bald, faintly reflected the interior’s light, while his brown eyes remained fixed on the outside, without blinking for long seconds.
He clicked his tongue.
The gesture broke the stillness.
"Too much silence..." he murmured, more to himself than to anyone.
His tone dragged irritation.
He had been like this for days.
Since the Dark Society stopped sending news, everything had remained suspended in a wait he didn’t like at all. At first he didn’t give it importance. That type of organization operated in the shadows; dead times were usual.
But that had already exceeded what was reasonable.
Bernard moved slightly away from the window, walking with short steps through the room. The wooden floor cushioned the sound, barely perceptible.
He knew what had happened.
The beast-men tribe had been attacked. That information had reached him, along with confirmation the assassin guild had intervened. Moreover, everything indicated they had fulfilled their objective.
And after...
Nothing.
Not a message.
Not a sign.
Bernard frowned, stopping next to a table where several unused cups rested.
"Tch..." he snorted, this time with more force.
He didn’t like how all that sounded in his head.
He had collaborated. He had offered information, resources, facilities. He wasn’t a simple dispensable intermediary. Or at least, he shouldn’t be.
However, the absence of response was beginning to suggest something else.
"So you don’t need me anymore...?" he murmured, with an acid tone in his voice.
The idea was unpleasant to him.
Even more because it fit.
The guild obtained what it wanted, and then cut ties. It was efficient. Cold. Exactly the type of organization that didn’t hesitate to leave behind whoever no longer provided immediate value.
Perhaps in the end they were never interested in the territory, perhaps it was just a deception to be able to leave without paying their debt.
Bernard brought a hand to his chin, thoughtful.
He wasn’t naive.
He knew what terrain he moved on.
And precisely because of that, the situation irritated him so much.
"Not even compensation..." he added quietly, pressing his lips.
He had expected something.
Money.
Objects.
Privileged information.
Anything that justified his involvement.
Instead, all he had was silence.
His gaze deviated again toward the window, though this time without focusing on anything concrete.
A different thought made its way into his mind.
The tribe.
The beast-men.
His expression changed barely, adopting a different nuance.
"Hmph..."
He had considered asking for one.
A slave.
The idea had taken shape days ago, almost as a whim. Nothing urgent, nothing necessary. But the possibility was there, and he found it... attractive.
Now, without contact with the Dark Society, that was ruled out.
Another inconvenience.
Another reason for his bad mood.
"Useless..." he murmured, though it wasn’t clear who the comment was directed at.
Silence returned to the room.
It only lasted a few seconds.
A knock on the door interrupted it.
Dry.
Precise.
Bernard turned his head annoyed, his brow still furrowed.
"What is it now...?" he growled.
He wasn’t expecting visitors.
At those hours, the only thing that usually interrupted him was service.
He sighed with disdain.
"Come in," he ordered, not bothering to change his tone.
The door opened.
Bernard didn’t turn immediately. He kept his gaze forward an instant more, as if wanting to make his disinterest clear.
"I hope this interruption has a vitally important reason behind it," he added, making a vague gesture with his hand.
The silence that followed didn’t fit.
There were no hurried steps. There was no submissive response. Something in the atmosphere changed.
Bernard noticed it.
He turned his head.
The figure at the entrance wasn’t a maid.
It remained motionless, occupying the threshold with a presence that didn’t go unnoticed. It wore a blood-red tunic that fell to almost completely cover its body. The hood cast shadow over its face, but not enough to hide the black mask covering it.
It wasn’t a decorative mask.
It was smooth.
Dark.
Without concessions.
Under the hood, some strands of jet-black hair slid to the sides, framing the hidden face. And behind the mask, two points stood out clearly.
Purple eyes.
They shone.
Not exaggeratedly, but enough to notice them effortlessly.
Bernard remained still.
His body reacted before his mind.
A chill ran down his spine.
"..."
The woman tilted her head slightly.
"Well..." her voice emerged clear, firm. "Is this how you now receive members of the assassin guild, Lord Sargas?"
The tone wasn’t elevated.
Not aggressive either.
But the question carried an obvious edge.
Bernard felt his throat go dry.
His posture changed immediately.
The hand that before gestured with disdain withdrew, and his back straightened almost automatically. His eyes, which before showed irritation, adopted a different shine.
Caution.
"I-I’m sorry..." he said, with a slight tremor he couldn’t completely hide. "I didn’t expect... a visit of such caliber."
He hurried to take a step forward, closing the distance carefully.
"It was a misunderstanding," he added, forcing a smile that didn’t quite settle on his face. "I didn’t intend... to be disrespectful."
The figure didn’t move.
Bernard swallowed.
"S-should I...?" he hesitated an instant before continuing. "Would you like something to drink?"
His tone had changed completely.
No trace of previous arrogance remained. Only tense courtesy, sustained by fear.
Katerina didn’t respond immediately.
Her eyes remained fixed on him, observing him.
Evaluating him.
And Bernard, for the first time all night, stopped thinking about the lack of news.
Now he had something more urgent in front of him.
