Chapter 517: Bluff, Cheat, Lure

Loki continued explaining the information he had gathered:

"Envoy, over the past six months, our efforts to investigate this Hermes have been exhaustive, and we've spent quite a bit of capital."

He extended his fingers, tapping them one by one.

"The first piece of news is that after May of this year, all our investigative lines were completely severed."

May. Richard remembered.

In May, he had upgraded Perception to Lv.5 in the training room.

From that point on, ordinary investigative methods could no longer affect him.

Loki went on:

"Then came the group battle on June 17, when the Rome table of the City of Seven Hills completely disbanded."

"Rumor has it that someone chanted three honorable names on the battlefield that night. Afterward, a path opened up from deeper within the veil."

"As for who exactly did it, we couldn't find out. None of the people present were willing to speak."

"Through my information channels, I probed the survivors from the Rome table. I only found out that two individuals in Turin and Naples are doing all right, but no specific news came back."

Someone in the hall drew a sharp breath. It was the candidates.

This was the first time they were hearing such news. They hadn't expected that the table they would inevitably have to face sooner or later could directly summon the help of a Virtuoso.

At the mention of Matthew, Richard suddenly felt like he had forgotten something.

Then he abruptly realized that he had promised to write a story for Matthew.

He had been too busy these past few months and had completely forgotten.

Since Matthew never urged him, he hadn't given the matter much thought.

Once this business trip to the Apennine was over, he definitely had to write that story.

"Then there are the speculations regarding his identity. Please don't laugh, Envoy.

"In our deductions, we first wondered if this Hermes might be the illegitimate son of a certain professor in the Imperial Capital."

Hearing this, Richard really couldn't hold back his amusement.

But Loki explained in a serious, methodical tone.

"You might not know this, but the old professor I'm talking about has been in the department for over a century.

"He never married and has no descendants, yet last year he suddenly wrote a letter of recommendation for an undergraduate student.

"You can count the recommendation letters this old professor has written in his entire life on two hands.

"This spring, he went out of his way to ask for favors for this student.

"Why would an old scholar over a hundred years old be willing to make a personal trip just for a young man like that?"

Richard's smile gradually faded.

Although the man's conclusion was wrong, his reasoning was sound. Either way, he had seen that the relationship between the old professor and Richard was quite deep.

"Another possibility is that he was specially placed in the Academy by the Department of Internal Affairs.

"I heard that the Empire established a new special department this year called the Wartime Abnormal Affairs Coordination Administration.

"It was just founded this year, and slipping an extra person or two into the Academy at a time like this would be standard practice.

"There is also one more possibility: Hermes came over from the Rus Empire.

"Hela proposed this one. Her reasoning is that the person's concealment methods are too clean, very much resembling the techniques from Rus."

Hela, sitting in the second chair, nodded but did not speak.

"We've investigated all three of these possibilities, but we couldn't go any further. After all, none of these targets are easy to provoke."

Loki spread his hands helplessly.

Richard thought the funniest part of the whole situation was this: the lord of the hunt himself had long since lost interest in investigating.

On the night of April 30, he guided the lord of the hunt to strike right at the critical moment of a Virtuoso's advancement, tearing off a fragment of their Signature and reaping significant benefits.

Coupled with the three syllables contributed earlier, the lord of the hunt felt it was no longer necessary to actually root this person out. Instead, letting him slowly grow would be far more beneficial to himself.

Furthermore, given the traces the lord of the hunt had recently discovered in the library of the Master from the Classical Records Tradition, out of caution, he was even less inclined to investigate.

Only this Nordic table was still diligently investigating a task that should have been scrapped months ago.

Now they had been investigating for half a year, running to numerous Harbors and buying who knew how many rounds of drinks.

They had concocted all sorts of outrageous speculations, and tonight they had even tracked down the target himself, asking him to help them continue the investigation.

Richard was suddenly grateful for every choice he had made over the past two years. Those choices wove together into a massive net, solidly blocking all the investigative lines probing from the outside.

"Envoy," Loki began rambling again, seeing that the Shadow remained silent.

"We can negotiate the compensation. Although our table isn't very well-off right now—I can't hide that from you—as long as it's something we have in our hands..."

"I accept this commission."

The circle of people inside the hall simultaneously looked over. Loki was somewhat surprised.

He had been prepared to be deflected again, and then to raise his price a few times. Wasn't that how all deals were made?

"To think the Envoy is actually willing to accept."

"Of course." Richard nodded.

"But from now on, any information regarding this person must pass through my hands first. I will filter out the duplicates for you.

"I will correct the mistakes for you, and I will screen any news from elsewhere before handing it over."

Loki was rather excited. "Certainly... With the Envoy acting as our gatekeeper, we will save a lot of time."

In his mind, this Envoy naturally couldn't be Hermes. The very second that thought popped up, he had extinguished it.

It was ridiculous just thinking about it. How could the lord of the hunt order an investigation into a person, and then have the person being investigated come over to find them?

How could something so comical happen in this world?

So now that this special and distinguished Envoy was offering to screen the intelligence for them, it was naturally for the best.

"Additionally," Richard interrupted him again.

"If you blindly investigate out there on your own and provoke someone you shouldn't provoke, the lord of the hunt won't cover for you."

Hearing this, the smile completely vanished from Loki's face, and he bowed again.

"The Envoy is right. Investigating outside not only burns money like water, but everything we get back is complete nonsense.

"From now on, we will rely entirely on the Envoy for this lead. We will investigate wherever you tell us to investigate."

Richard's main body sat in the chair and nodded in satisfaction.

Starting tonight, every piece of information regarding Hermes at the Nordic table would have to go through Hermes himself first.

Realizing this, the Mask of Hermes in his arms grew almost hot, even trembling slightly.

Richard had a premonition that if this kept up, a third Divinely Crafted Armament was probably going to condense.

What would it be? The Reed Pipe capable of hypnotizing the hundred-eyed giant?

Or the harp that Hermes invented? Or perhaps Hades' Helm of Invisibility that he borrowed in the myths?

Although he already had enough life-saving measures, no one would ever complain about having too many.

Loki straightened his back, his face bearing the relaxed look of someone who had just unloaded a heavy burden.

"Does the Envoy have any other instructions?"

Richard made the Shadow hold up the piece of the Antler Token.

Inside the hall, the smell of frozen earth and horse sweat grew a bit thicker.

"Of course. The lord of the hunt sent me here tonight primarily for another matter."

The ease on Loki's face faded. "What exactly is it?"

Richard got straight to the point: "The lord of the hunt wants you to join the ranks of the Wild Hunt."

Hearing this, Tyr blurted out, "The ranks of the Wild Hunt? Aren't they all dead?"

Beside him, Freyja realized something was wrong. She shot him a glare first, then looked nervously at the silent Envoy.

Tyr also realized his slip of the tongue and hurriedly shut his mouth.

Richard knew what they were thinking.

They probably felt they had lost their value, and the lord of the hunt wanted to harvest them, turn them into corpses, and then add them to the hunting party.

Richard let this fear ferment for a moment. Right as Loki turned his mask to speak, Richard beat him to the punch.

"You don't need to worry. This time, the lord of the hunt wants the living."

He didn't give the crowd a chance to ask further, guiding the topic in a direction favorable to him.

"Everyone, I'd like to ask you first: how many external battles has your table fought this year?"

"Only two."

As Loki said this, the smile on his face vanished completely.

"How many died?"

"One, Fenrir."

"How did he die?"

Loki clamped his mouth shut, and Hela answered for him.

"An old guy with white hair came in carrying a book. By the time he left, our table was basically half-crippled, and that unlucky bastard Fenrir even lost his life."

Richard nodded silently; this was exactly what he wanted to bring up.

"How many months has it been since that battle?"

"About eight months, I suppose."

"In those eight months, have you recovered?"

The crowd was left speechless, and Richard didn't need them to answer anyway.

"Let me do the math for you. You swallowed up the Celtic table in March of this year. It takes three to four months to digest such a meal, and as a result, an outsider took advantage of your vulnerability.

"Now eight months have passed. Not only do you have no profits to show for it, but you are also left covered in injuries. Do you still think swallowing the Celtic table was worth it?"

Loki remained silent.

"In the same year, the Greece table swallowed Rome—an entire table, including people, divine names, and masks.

"Moreover, they must have invited a Virtuoso that night. Am I wrong?"

No one said a word, so Richard continued.

"Then there is the Black Earth River table. Their leader is a Major Adept Scholar from the Abyss Tradition.

"He also has a Virtuoso backing him. Last month, they started distributing potsherds to all the tables. Do you all still have the ones you received?"

The atmosphere in the room grew even stiffer. Richard pressed his advantage.

"Let me tell you about the situation at the other tables.

"The Greece table is riding high and continuously rising; the Black Earth River table is striking out in all directions, investigating everywhere.

"The Rome table is gone, the Iberia table is running around looking for a backer, the Rus table works for whoever pays them, and the Germanic Pantheon table has a newly advanced Virtuoso backing them.

"Everyone, going through this list one by one, what tier do you think you fall into?"

Freyja pursed her lips and said with some difficulty, "Is the Envoy saying all this on purpose to intimidate us?"

"Yes!"

The answer was so blunt that Freyja suddenly didn't know what to say.

"If I don't lay out the situation clearly, you all might not even realize how much danger you are in right now."

Tyr spoke up as well: "Then the Envoy came tonight to..."

"I came tonight to offer you a solution, of course. Joining the ranks of the Wild Hunt is the best solution."

Richard pulled out another scrolled booklet. The old scholar had casually stuffed this into his hands.

At the time, he had said something like, 'Young man, when you can't talk sense into those people, you can read this to them.'

Richard had thought it was some powerful incantation, but when he unrolled it, it turned out to be another register.

"Let me give you a few examples first. Just listen.

"Heinrich von Ostheim. Does anyone know this person?"

No one answered.

"This man was inscribed in 1473. When he joined the Wild Hunt, he was merely a Practitioner Hunter. His family was so poor he had to borrow all his weapons and equipment. He stayed in the ranks for seven years.

"Seven years later, he became the chief military officer of the court over in Vienna. By the time he died, he was a Major Adept."

Hearing this, Tyr's breathing unconsciously grew ragged.

"Let me talk about a second person: Magdalena Stein."

Upon hearing a woman's name, Freyja lifted her head.

Richard chuckled inwardly and continued.

"This lady was inscribed in 1551. She followed the Secret path.

"Before joining the ranks, she even moonlighted as a midwife.

"She didn't directly participate in combat, but she accomplished many things that Hunters could not.

"She followed the ranks for a full nineteen years. Nineteen years later, she opened a shop in Nuremberg, putting down deep roots there.

"Even today in Nuremberg, you can still hear many mediums claiming they were trained by students who served under her.

"This lady also started as a mere Practitioner, and after retiring from the Wild Hunt, she too became a Major Adept."

Freyja pursed her lips and said nothing more.

"I will give one last example: Olaf Svein."

Tyr jerked his head up. "The ancestor of that Virtuoso family in the Northlands?"

"Correct. He was also a Hunter. He followed for exactly eleven years and received three items, two mounts, and a pelt that allowed him to walk on the sea during winter.

"He later returned to his home island, and his descendants used those very items to achieve the rank of Virtuoso.

"That is why you all react immediately upon hearing this name today."

Someone softly drew in a breath. Richard chuckled inwardly again; everything he had just mentioned was mere survivorship bias.

Who knew how many people had joined the Hunting Register over the past hundreds and thousands of years? But the examples of those who truly survived were just these few.

For most people, finding a spot in the hunting party after they died was already considered good enough.

But his goal had been met. The examples he just gave—someone so poor he had to borrow equipment, someone delivering babies, and someone fishing—were all of people who had started out doing quite poorly.

The Shadow rolled the scroll back up.

"Everyone, you've seen it too. When they entered the ranks, they were worse off than you, yet they could all achieve such accomplishments."

These words even stirred the candidates draped in their curtains; some of them started shifting restlessly.

Freyja also followed up with a question.

"Envoy, what can we gain from following that party for a night?"

Richard had been waiting for exactly this question.

"The Wild Hunt nights occur about four to five times a year. Each instance isn't necessarily just one night; it could be multiple nights strung together.

"For example, the twelve nights of Yule, the three Ember days, All Hallows' Eve, and Walburg.

"If there's a major disaster or too many deaths in a war, the frequency increases. This year, it increased twice.

"Over the course of a night, we hunt down evil creatures and lost ghosts, along with all sorts of items and materials swept up from the rift between the two worlds. All spoils are distributed according to merit."

"Are there tasks that don't require head-on combat?"

"Of course. I play exactly that kind of role, and I receive an even larger share than those leading the charge in battle."

Freyja narrowed her eyes.

"There's also an additional benefit, which you've probably read about in books: luck.

"I'm sure I don't need to elaborate on how important luck is to the mystical side.

"If you have enough luck, your chances of surviving will always be slightly higher than those around you.

"In the Wild Hunt, that final breath of resentment from a dying prey is luck.

"Over these past few years, people have been dying all over the Old Continent. If this party of ours heads out, how much do you think we can gather?"

Tyr's only hand was now clenched into a fist.

Freyja then asked how the hunt nights would find them in the future, who would receive the notices, who would report the split of the spoils, and who to look for if something went wrong.

Here was the main point. At this stage, the negotiation was effectively concluded; the crowd had agreed to join.

Richard made the Shadow twirl the register half a turn between its fingers.

"That will be decided by the lord of the hunt."

Everyone looked over.

Richard established the rule: from now on, everyone's individual harvests would only be known to themselves, the lord of the hunt, and the old scholar. It would no longer go through Loki and Hela.

Hearing the other party hammer this decision down without leaving him any room to retort, the muscles on Loki's face twitched.

"Envoy..."

"I know what the head seat is going to say," the Shadow interrupted him.

"The head seat surely feels that the table must have someone to coordinate things, but our rule is that no one can collect on behalf of another."

As soon as these words were spoken, the crowd in the hall grew restless.

Loki wanted to flare up a bit. He glanced at Hela, but the dead face shook her head at him.

After weighing his options to the very end, Loki smiled again.

"Alright, as the Envoy says. As the head seat, I was already too lazy to manage the accounts anyway.

"From now on, it falls under the lord of the hunt's jurisdiction, and I get to enjoy my leisure."

Loki couldn't stop it at all.

The spoils were distributed by the lord of the hunt. If Loki tried to intercept them, it would be equivalent to announcing to the whole hall, "I'm going to take a cut from the lord of the hunt." No one in the hall dared to utter such a phrase.

"Then it's settled. Everyone takes care of their own. How much you work determines how much you get."

The Shadow rolled the register up and tucked it into its sleeve.

Loki let out a breathy laugh. "Envoy, this table happens to be short of someone who understands the rules."

"You won't occupy a chair and won't participate in displacement battles. You'll only handle the errands from the lord of the hunt's side."

Richard didn't answer immediately, pretending to be in thought.

"Envoy?" Loki urged once more.

Richard pondered for a long time (when in fact not even a second had passed) before "reluctantly" agreeing.

Loki laughed so hard his shoulders shook. "Did you all hear that? From tonight on, the lord of the hunt's side will be managed by the Envoy. The distribution of spoils won't pass through my hands, so don't come asking me for them."

Thus, the official external member of this Nordic table was established.

There were many benefits to Richard agreeing to this. As a formal seat at the Greece table and an external member at the Nordic table, he now possessed two intelligence channels.

He could justifiably keep a close eye on Lillian, and the investigation into 'Hermes' at this table would forever be penned by him personally.

But if Hecate found out that her formal seat held a position at Loki's table... anyway, it would be hard to explain.

Plus, with Apophis still looking for him, this also equated to an added risk of exposure.

On the surface, Loki was being played for a fool by him, but Richard didn't dare lower his guard.

The other party was a Major Adept, after all. He might possess some methods that Richard didn't know about.

This time, Richard had primarily exploited an information gap and borrowed the tiger skin of the lord of the hunt to achieve such a great result.

But Loki had also been continuously probing. Facing such a person, there would be plenty of opportunities for subtle clashes.

Richard made the Shadow turn around.

"Everyone, now that you've entered the hunting party, let's work well together. In the future, it might not be impossible to overturn the Greece table and the Black Earth River table.

"Spoils must be earned by yourselves. Remember: audentes (the bold)."

When this widely circulated Latin proverb was spoken, the crowd in the hall had a mild reaction, simply nodding slightly in cooperation.

Only Lillian jerked her head up. The eyes beneath her mask stared at the Envoy by the door for a long time.

Richard made the Shadow walk toward the door.

"Let's go. The lord of the hunt told me to show you all the scenery first."

He led the six people toward the door, feeling especially unsure in his heart.

He had gone through so much trouble to establish his authority inside the hall. If that bunch of goofballs in the party went back to laughing and causing a ruckus...

Then the tiny bit of prestige he had painstakingly built up would vanish in an instant.

'Give me some face, brothers. At least don't say anything...' Carrying an apprehensive heart, Richard pushed open the door.

There was no sound outside the door, but the ranks of the Wild Hunt were all standing upon the clouds, not a single one missing.

The wind blew over from the Alps, passing through the entire formation without lifting even a single strand of horse mane.

Tens of thousands of riders stood densely packed on the clouds. The front row was less than twenty steps from the hall's door, stretching backward until it vanished beyond the reach of sight.

The formation of men, horses, and hounds was impeccably orderly, and the eerie gazes seeping out from beneath their armor were as cold as ice.

Tens of thousands of pairs of eyes simply stared coldly at the group emerging from the hall.

Loki walked to the doorway, not daring to laugh anymore.

Tyr stopped in his tracks as well. Freyja gripped the doorframe, hiding half her face behind the door.

Hela looked up. The borrowed gate to the Underworld hovering above her head shrank into a laughable slit in the face of the true dead.

As for those candidates wrapped in their curtains, not a single one dared to cross the threshold.

Richard took a step forward and slightly raised his hand.

The next moment, tens of thousands of hands within the ranks of the Wild Hunt reversed their weapons in unison.

Axe blades turned inward, spear tips pointed down, bowstrings were loosened to rest on fingers, and the backs of blades faced outward.

Tens of thousands of iron weapons changed direction simultaneously without a single sound. This utter silence was the most oppressive part.

"...The Envoy has arrived!"

This was the first time Richard had heard the old scholar's voice ring so loud and clear.

The formation parted down the middle, and flames flared up one by one.

Two thousand lamps were lit atop the clouds, but the lord of the hunt still found it insufficient.

A path of fire burned from the threshold of the hall's door straight to the center of the formation.

The lord of the hunt unfastened the horn from his saddle, raised it to his lips, and blew three notes.

As the first note fell, tens of thousands of riders simultaneously raised their right hands and struck their left chests.

As the second note fell, tens of thousands of horses simultaneously raised their hooves and brought them down; it felt as if the entire sky over Bohemia was about to crash down.

As the third note fell, the entire party lowered their heads, starting from the front row and rippling backward, row after row, beyond the reach of sight.

At the doorway, Loki was both shocked and terrified, even speculating whether this Envoy was the avatar of some Virtuoso.

The lord of the hunt pulled his reins to the side, and a horse was led out from the ranks.

The horse was half a head taller than any other around it, wearing only an old bridle.

The old scholar led the horse by the reins, walking down the path of fire, and handed the reins over when he reached the Shadow.

"Envoy, please mount."

"The lord of the hunt has ridden this one himself."

The moment Richard took the reins, he heard everyone's breathing behind him grow heavy.

As for the horses brought to the other six, they were all randomly drawn from the ranks—dark in color and ordinary in size.

The one leading the horses was the old guy who wanted the sheepskin shoes. He didn't say a single word tonight, simply handing over the reins before retreating into the ranks, standing straight with his feet together.

'What's he pretending for? The guy still has absolutely nothing on his feet.' Inside the Shadow, Richard almost couldn't hold back a laugh.

The old scholar unrolled the register. "Before the newcomers mount... let the hounds catch their scent."

The pack of hounds moved. From beneath the ranks, between the horses' bellies, and from all sorts of unseen places, thousands of them walked forward together.

They moved in a single file, surging all the way from the front of the formation to the hall's door.

The leading hound arrived in front of Tyr. This giant beast's shoulders were taller than Tyr's chest, making it nearly the size of a small calf.

The giant hound's hot breath wafted onto the man's face. It took Tyr two seconds to realize he had forgotten to breathe.

The second hound arrived before Freyja. Only then did she step out of the doorway, her two hands tightly wrung together in front of her chest, clearly very nervous.

The large dog playfully licked a faceful of drool onto her before letting her go. Freyja stood frozen in place, not daring to move a muscle.

The third hound walked up to Hela. That massive maw almost bit right onto the half-dead side of her face.

When it came to Loki, the hound that walked up to him was equally massive.

The giant hound looked up at him for a long time before lowering its head to take a quick, perfunctory sniff, then turned and left.

As it left, its large tail smacked right across Loki's face.

By the doorway, Freyja lowered her head to stifle a laugh.

When it was Lillian's turn, the one that came was the small, limping hound.

It squeezed out from under the formation, running in a crooked wobble, knocking over two people's saddlebags along the way.

It bypassed the six people completely and instead ran over to lay down at the Shadow's feet.

The old scholar's pen paused mid-air. He looked at the small hound helplessly and said, "It really likes the Envoy."

"Mount."

The seven people swung up onto their horses. The old scholar said, "Envoy, these individuals are new tonight. According to the rules, let them see how we do things first."

The lord of the hunt raised the horn to his lips and blew two short notes.

The entire party split into three columns from the middle. The left column swept down the northern slope, the right column circled around to the southern slope, and the center remained unmoving.

The hound pack advanced at the very front, hugging the ground, thousands of them spreading out into a net.

The riders on the left raised their hands and drew a bone from under their ribs.

On the night of April 30, tens of thousands of bone arrows had intertwined, twisting the entire expanse of clouds upside down. Tonight, there was only the left column.

The bows were drawn. The sound of hooves thundered across the slope, crashing down upon the eastward-fleeing evil creatures and wandering spirits.

The patch of white light on the northern slope and the various grotesque evil creatures breeding within it were instantly annihilated. Loki gripped his reins tightly on horseback.

The seven people sat on their respective horses by the doorway. Richard made the Shadow turn to glance at them; not a single one dared to meet its eyes.

Lillian was at the very back of the formation. She steered her horse to stop three steps away from the Shadow.

The wind blew into her cuffs, carrying a surprising chill.

She raised her hand and stared at it in front of her eyes for a long time.

A fine layer of goosebumps had risen on the back of her hand, and her fingertips began to tremble.

"Skadi, keep up," Loki called out from ahead.

She lowered her hand and let her horse remain at the rear.

The Shadow stood on the flank of the formation. Neither of the two spoke, and below, the rye fields sped backward through the shadows of the clouds.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice half-swept away by the wind.

The Shadow did not answer.

Lillian turned her face forward.

"...Never mind. I'm not stupid; I know what should and shouldn't be asked."

Richard was stunned, and it took him a long time to realize what she meant.

This was the exact sentence Lillian had said when the two of them parted ways in that old house during the winter.