Low-Fantasy Occultist

Chapter 438

Nick barely had time to raise his hands before a blur of blue fur launched itself directly at his chest. He caught the feline reflexively, taking a half-step back to absorb the impact as Talbot slammed into him, radiating pure, unfiltered excitement.

The Guardian Beast of House Crowley scrambled up Nick's tunic, settling onto his shoulder and wrapping a thick, fluffy tail around his neck. Talbot's spiritual senses brushed against Nick's soul, exploring its new density and producing an undeniable resonance with the [Spiritual Master] trait.

“My word, Young Master,” a refined voice echoed clearly in Nick’s mind, sounding remarkably like an aristocratic gentleman enjoying a fine cup of tea. “You have certainly been eating your vegetables, haven't you? I must say, old boy, I was expecting to see some growth upon your return, but this is a well-done advancement. Splendid work, truly.”

Nick chuckled, reaching up to scratch the cat behind the ears. "It's good to see you, too, Talbot. You've been keeping the grounds safe?”

“Impeccably safe,” Talbot purred, leaning into the touch. “Though I admit, it has been dreadfully boring without you around to attract the more interesting kind of trouble. This new foundation of yours... it is exceptionally sturdy. I dare say we might be able to hunt a proper prey the next time we go spelunking in the ether.”

Elena blinked, her composure slipping for a moment. She looked at the blue cat sitting happily on her son's shoulder, then turned to Nick with genuine surprise.

"He never does that," she said, her lips curling up. "He barely tolerates me petting him, and he completely ignores Prelate Marthas whenever the man visits.”

Nick smiled, offering the cat another scratch. “Well, I was the one who found him.”

Elena shook her head slowly, clearly deciding that the feline was too strange to bother understanding. "I suppose I have a lot of catching you up to do. Come inside, all of you. I will have the kitchens prepare a proper meal, and you can tell me exactly how you spent the last few months.”

Nick and Devon shared a glance, silently agreeing to tone down the worst parts of their stories. Their mother had loosened up compared to how she was even just a year ago, but there was no need to go into all the gruesome details of their adventures.

Half an hour later, they sat around the table in the family dining room. Platters of roasted fowl, fresh bread, and seasoned root vegetables filled the space between them, and while they weren’t as refined as those Nick knew Alluria’s nobles preferred, compared to the stews they’d had on the road—no matter how good a cook Sonya was—they were a real luxury, and made by someone with the right Class, too.

As they ate, Nick and Devon gave a sanitized yet accurate account of the events in Alluria. They described Elias Hone's treason, the corruption of the wards, and the Tower’s defense afterward. Elena listened closely, asking sharp questions about the city’s reaction and the shifting political scene, while sometimes including Sonya in the conversation when the girl went quiet for too long.

Clearly, she understood that there was more than just friendship between her and Devon, but she was willing to wait until the matter was officially presented before asking questions.

It took some time to satisfy her, but when Xander reassured her that the matter had ended without too much damage, she eventually allowed the conversation to turn back to local matters.

The weariness returned to her eyes, tugging at the corners of her mouth, and Nick knew that despite the pretty new look, Floria was not all sunshine and rainbows.

"You have done an incredible job with the town, Mom," Devon said, pouring her a glass of water from a crystal pitcher. "The paving alone must have cost an arm, but it feels like a proper budding city now.”

“We’d already hired a crew of earth mages to rebuild the manor," Elena replied casually, waving her hand and taking a sip. "The merchants certainly brought enough coin for it, and the refugees provided the labor to harvest the Green Ocean's perimeter. Unfortunately, sudden wealth always attracts scavengers.”

“The guards are struggling?" Nick asked, setting his fork down.

I’d assumed they were a bit stretched, given how tired the ones at the gate looked, but there might be more to it, considering how tense she is.

"Darien is doing everything a mortal man can do," Elena defended the lieutenant firmly. "But he can only deploy so many guards, and recruitment is slow given the quality of the men we need to take in. The major merchant consortia that arrived have hired private mercenary companies to protect their interests here, and while most of them are respectful enough of our laws, since they know we provide the safe harbor they need to turn a profit, some groups are pushing their luck.”

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Elena traced the rim of her glass, her expression hardening into the same look she used to wear when planning a punishment. Nick felt a subconscious shiver run down his spine, vividly recalling what usually followed.

"The most troublesome among them call themselves the Black Hounds. They were hired by a consortium closely linked to the northern trade houses, and they’ve essentially taken over a large tavern in the new eastern district, turning it into their personal barracks. They drink the cellars dry, refuse to pay the owners, and pick fights with the locals.”

"Why hasn't Darien arrested them, then?” Devon asked, his brow furrowing in irritation.

Not paying for their stay and meals would definitely be enough reason to grab them. Nick silently agreed.

"Because arresting thirty heavily armed mercenaries requires a full mobilization of the town guard," Elena explained. "If a brawl of that scale breaks out in the crowded eastern district, half the neighborhood will burn down in the crossfire. The Black Hounds know this. They are intentionally testing our boundaries, seeing how much authority House Crowley actually wields while your father is away.”

She looked at her sons, frustration wearing her features. "I have considered handling them myself. But if the Lady of the House descends to brawl with hired thugs in a tavern, it sends a message of desperation to the consortiums. They will think we lack the institutional strength to enforce the law through the proper channels.”

Nick leaned back in his chair, absorbing the information. The situation was a typical proxy conflict. The merchants were testing Floria's defenses, pushing the boundaries of the law to see if the local rulers were weak enough to be extorted or completely bypassed. Essentially, they wanted to find out whether the town was actually governed by a noble house or was just a frontier outpost ready to be taken.

It’s a foolish gamble because once Dad returns, they will face severe punishment. However, if something were to happen to him, they could gain a lot. Even if he does return, they might have already made enough profit.

The war in the north was going pretty well, last he heard, but it was far from over. Eugene could be away for months, if not years, in the worst case.

However, that did not mean House Crowley would sit still until he returned.

Nick caught Devon's eye across the table.

There was no need for a long discussion between them; Devon simply gave a slow nod.

They had just spent months surviving the political and physical chaos of Alluria. A group of rowdy mercenaries trying to bully their hometown felt almost insultingly simple in comparison.

"You don't need to mobilize the guard, Mom," Nick said quietly with a confidence that could only come from absolute certainty in his superiority.

“Yeah, we’ll take care of it,” Devon said, wiping his mouth with a napkin and rising from the table. "Enjoy your meal. Nick and I will go for a walk and check out the new district for ourselves.”

Elena looked between her sons, clearly struggling to agree with what they were proposing, but her eyes caught Xander’s, who nodded, and she relaxed.

"Do not burn the tavern down," she finally instructed, picking her fork back up. "The proprietor is a good man, and he has suffered enough.”

"We will be thorough," Nick promised, giving Talbot one last scratch behind the ears before standing up to follow his brother.

They stopped to ask a servant for directions, who provided a clear path, and before long, they arrived at the entrance of the northeastern district.

Nick and Devon walked shoulder to shoulder down the busy streets, weaving through a sea of newly built timber buildings and crowded market stalls.

People from all walks of life hurried past them—merchants bargaining over pelts, refugees carrying bundles of supplies, and armored adventurers searching for their next contract. It didn't take long to find the tavern Elena mentioned.

The Staggering Boar was a large, two-story wooden building located near the edge of the new commercial square. Unlike the busy nearby shops filled with lively chatter and trading, the area right in front of the Boar was noticeably empty. The locals kept their distance from the building, casting nervous glances at the oak doors, and although Nick wanted to stop and chat with a few he recognized, his instincts pushed him to hurry.

Pushing the door open, he stepped inside.

The interior was dim, filled with the smoke of cheap pipe weed and stale beer. The tables had been pushed together to form long rows, now occupied by over two dozen men and a few women wearing matching leather armor bearing a snarling black hound emblem.

Despite it not even being lunchtime, they were drinking heavily, shouting over one another, and throwing chicken bones on the floor, as if they were the true owners.

Nick scanned the room, analyzing their auras with his senses.

They consisted mostly of Level 30s with a few low 40s, making them experienced fighters who could hold their own against a typical town guard, but they remained largely unremarkable within the kingdom's overall hierarchy.

Next to him, Devon was doing his own analysis, and the small huff of condescension he let out told him he’d reached the same conclusion.

Before either of them could announce their presence, a sharp gasp drew their attention toward the back corner of the room.

A young serving girl, probably no older than eighteen, was pressed against the wooden support pillar by a burly mercenary with a scraggly beard. He had a tight grip on her wrist, leaning in close with a predatory grin while his tablemates laughed and slammed their tankards on the wood.

"Come on now, sweetheart," the mercenary slurred, pulling her closer despite her frantic attempts to pull away. "Just one drink with the boys. We've been protecting this mud-pit of a tavern for a while now. Don't we deserve a little hospitality?”

"Let me go," the girl demanded, her voice trembling but defiant. "I need to clean up the mess you made.”

“Oh, that can wait," he insisted, reaching out with his free hand to grip her waist.

He never made contact.

Devon moved across the room faster than these men could follow, stepping up behind the mercenary, grabbing his shoulder with a gauntleted hand, and pulling back with raw strength that the other was completely unprepared to resist.

Nick let out a small huff of amusement. I guess talking will be saved for later. Not that I’m complaining.

The mercenary let out a startled yelp as he was yanked away from the girl, his boots sliding across the beer-slicked floor. Devon spun him around and punched him square in the chest plate, cracking the iron vest and sending him flying backward, crashing through a wooden table and taking two of his laughing companions down with him in a tangle of splintered wood and spilled ale.

The tavern fell dead silent.