Page 19 of I Ran Away to Evil #3
Interesting
Julian
The second Julian had approached her, Gerda’s cheeks had flushed, highlighting the white freckles on the bridge of her nose.
He liked her freckles.
“Let’s start”—Julian waved the offending papers—“with your assassination orders. Who do you think could be targeting you?”
The troll sighed, a surprisingly long-suffering sigh. “Anyone who’s ever crossed one of my bridges?”
He raised an eyebrow. “How many bridges do you control?”
“Lady’s secret.” She smiled, showing off her long lower canines.
While he was curious to learn more about the troll, now wasn’t the time. “And your statement about the first assassination attempt? For the record.”
Gerda crossed her arms. “I arrived, found my seat, and someone shot at me. The end.”
Julian had to stop himself from outright snorting, stifling a laugh with the back of his hand. How was she this amusing? Even John, who gave concise reports without any superfluous detail, wasn’t that succinct.
Gerda’s gaze fell to his lips, and her eyes went wide. Seeing as he’d surprised her somehow—and for that reason alone—he let himself give in to idle curiosity and smiled directly at her.
She looked away and covered her face.
Interesting.
“Do you know about the list ?”
She regained some composure and answered, “I do.”
Julian then surmised, “Which is how you were prepared for the arrow—”
“No,” Gerda interrupted, shaking her head. One long dark-green braid slid over her exposed shoulder and pooled in her lap. It was a momentary distraction.
“No?”
“I found out about the list after I was shot at,” she corrected him. “I caught the arrow because it was an easy catch.”
“An easy poisoned catch,” he reminded her.
“One you yourself have touched,” she countered.
His smile got bigger. “True.”
Gerda frowned. “I’ve given my statement, so if there’s nothing else?”
He didn’t want her to leave yet. His instincts were telling him that he needed her for something. They were missing a piece of the puzzle, and if he just pushed …
“The Blackfog spies are in my duchy,” he said, choosing the direct approach. “They are targeting you and others. Do you know anything?”
Gerda opened her mouth, probably to say no, but closed it again. She gave him a thoughtful look. When she finally did speak, it wasn’t what he’d expected. “The Spring Ball.”
“What about the Spring Ball?” Julian asked.
“Do I know anything about the Blackfog spies?” she repeated, listing things off on her fingers.
“Who are they? An intelligence agency that operates around the entire continent. What are they? An information broker up until recently. When did things change? After the Spring Ball, when they were suddenly hands-on, hiring mercenaries, and trying to hurt people. Where doesn’t help us because they are targeting people everywhere except the Empire of Sands.
But we’re not even going to consider the empire as an enemy because … ?”
“The queen,” Julian answered immediately. It was well known how the empire was experiencing one of its most prosperous reigns in history and had done so by disbanding half of the army back into the working class so they could keep up with supply and demand for their trade.
“And what happened at the Spring Ball that is tied to the Blackfog spies?” Gerda answered her own question. “Marquess Chadwick kidnapped a Blackfog spy—”
Julian frowned. “Marquess Chadwick was directly under Duke Lector, who was working with the Blackfog spies.”
“Exactly.” Gerda tapped her chin. “So why would Chadwick have kidnapped the spy?”
“… Because he didn’t know that the spies were working for the duke?” Julian said, pointing out the obvious.
“ Or ”—there was a glint in her eyes as Gerda reasoned—“because the Blackfog spies weren’t working for Duke Lector.”
Julian argued, “Your own kingdom was invaded by the duke with their aid.”
“ After the Spring Ball,” Gerda said. “Before that, Servalt was using contract mercenaries and both assassin guilds, but no Blackfog spies.”
He frowned, considering her words. “Alright.”
“That’s what I know,” she concluded. “Look into what changed at the Spring Ball, and you’ll—” She stopped short in the middle of her sentence.
Julian waited; she’d obviously thought of something.
“Look into what changed at the Spring Ball,” Gerda repeated, slower, “and we might figure out their motive.”
He waited still, expecting her to continue with her thoughts, but they remained hidden. Instead, Gerda rose to her feet, Julian only a breath behind her.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, my friends are waiting.”
She was headed for the door; she was leaving . Julian chased after her.
“Wait,” he told her. She paused at the door and looked back at him. It was the same as last night all over again, but this time, he had the upper hand. “You are being targeted,” he reminded her. “Which is why I’m going to assign you a guard during your visit.”
“Respectfully, Your Grace,” Gerda said, “I refuse.” Her eyes were fierce and fiery.
“Miss Gerda,” he spoke her name softly. “Please don’t take this as me laughing at your abilities. Accept my guard while you’re here.”
“The fact that your sister can’t beat me should’ve already confirmed my abilities,” the troll snapped, but it seemed like her mind was somewhere else. She was looking at a notification.
Julian was impressed; his sister was a battle-loving adventurer who could solo some dungeons.
“Besides”—Gerda shook her head—“you have enough problems on your hands. You can’t spare the guards.”
At that moment, John sent him an emergency message using his [Shadow Chat] skill. It resembled the communication interface available to parties formed while dungeon delving, but it only worked if one of John’s shadow clones was attached to Julian.
[Come to the Hall of Inventions. You’re going to want to see this.]
Julian read the note twice, but that was all it said.
He looked down at the troll. “How did you know?”
“Know what?” She looked up at him with big, innocent eyes, but he could see that her hands were clenched in her skirts. “If the city is full of Blackfog spies, you can’t afford to have a guard following me around shopping. Isn’t that obvious?”
A whistle blew off in the distance, loud and shrill.