Being the countess’ hunter was a strange experience. In some ways it was like being the Hero of Nerosal all over again, only a lot better. People would instantly recognize Dallion, always being polite and offering him gifts and huge discounts. But just as everyone was doing their best to act this way, Dallion could sense the fear emanating from them. It was as if he had transformed into a noble. The most disturbing thing of all—it wasn’t only people who were scared of him, but area guardians as well. One could assume that the order had been whispered from the countess to the overseer and all the people of importance in the city: until he was in Nerosal, Dallion was to be protected.

Entering his usual bathhouse made all the other customers quickly leave. The owner suggested that no payment was needed, but Dallion still tossed him the coins as he usually did. There was a minor irony in the fact that the countess herself hadn’t exactly paid anything so far. Hunter payment varied, with Dallion being one who accepted payment on delivery. Given the time and expenses that would go into the hunt, he should have asked for a bit of assistance beforehand. Since he was already on the hook, there was no reason not to before leaving.

Scrubbing off his sweat, Dallion rinsed, then went to get dressed. Normally, he’d spend half an hour relaxing in the warm bath itself. It was an excellent way to reduce stress, but it also blunted his focus.

“See you,” Dallion said to the owner as he left. He was about to add that he wouldn’t be stopping by until the hunt was over, when he saw the unmissable figure of the overseer waiting for him at the bathhouse entrance.

Upon exiting, he also noticed several city guards in the area as well. These weren’t the typical guards. For one thing, they were furies, for another they were doing a pretty good job remaining hidden among the crowd.

“Overseer,” he greeted her. “I was just about to see you.”

“I doubt it.” The black veil covering the woman’s face moved slightly. “Let’s talk on your way to Hannah’s inn.”

Dallion glanced about.

“Here?”

“No one will hear a thing. That’s why we have furies.” The overseer began walking along the street. “And I’ll take care of the rest.”

It’s all part of the game, Nil said. Having you seen with the overseer means something is going on. Ensuring that nothing could be heard while you’re seen causes the rumors to spread even faster. It’s a good idea to start learning these things, dear boy. You’re already acknowledged as a potential noble. Pretending you’re a solo hunter won’t be of any benefit now.

I’m not pretending.

Maybe so, but you’ll never convince anyone else about it.

Walking through the city felt like walking within an invisible bubble. Dallion could almost see the air currents surrounding him, ensuring that no noise made it to the people outside. As he and the overseer walked along the streets, a dozen furies followed. A few were on the ground, blending in the crowd, while the rest moved along the rooftops of buildings, faster than the non-awakened eye could see.

“I heard you left the province,” the overseer said.

“Does everyone know everything I’m doing?”

“You know they do, and yet you act surprised when someone mentions it. You’re too much like your grandfather in that aspect.”

“I’m nothing like him. I didn’t set out to become a noble. I was just fine being a hunter until this happened.”

“He used to say the same. Sometimes he even believed it himself.”

The comment stung like a branding iron. Even since he left his village, Dallion had done everything in his power not to turn out like his grandfather. The parallels were clear: both of them were otherworlders, eager to progress, and good at it. The old man was said to have been quite ambitious and a lot smarter than Dallion, helping him achieve in a few years what others couldn’t in decades. A lot of the details remained unknown and Dallion had deliberately kept it that way, but every now and again he’d end up in a situation when someone would make a comparison, though never openly providing details. Apparently, part of the man’s curse was that few people in the know could share that information, or so they claimed.

“I’m following a lead,” Dallion changed the subject. “I might have a way to find the phoenix.”

“You aren’t the first to claim that.”

“I need a bit of help,” he added in whisper, making sure that even the furies couldn’t hear him.

“Anything you tell me I’ll have to share with the countess. You know that.”

“Can you give me a head’s start? She told me she's not interested in me as long as I flutter about and make a lot of noise. Her words.”

The overseer paused for a step, then kept on walking.

“I’ll delay it until asked,” she replied.

“Good enough.”

“Before that, Gloria asked me to give you a message.”

“What?”

Gloria was one of the people Dallion had known the longest. She was the granddaughter of Dherma’s village chief and the crush of this world’s Dallion even before he had awakened. The two had an interesting relationship, sometimes helping each other level up, other times not so much. After Dallion’s fight against the village chief, she and her brother had assumed the role. Since then, she had moved up in society quite a lot, becoming engaged to the son of a city noble.

“You’ve been uninvited to her wedding,” the overseer said.

Dallion’s first reaction was anger mixed with betrayal. After everything she had done for her and her husband, the least he deserved was to be there. Moments later, it dawned on him. The reaction was a normal consequence of the shifting balance of power in the province. Gloria's father-in-law was the brother of Archduke Linatol. If he were to approve Dallion being present at the event, it would be an admission that she had taken Countess Priscord’s side.

“How’s she doing?” Dallion asked.

“Well enough. You and her brother are in the countess’ territory. The next time she tells you anything, it might not come from her. Keep that in mind.”

“It’s not like you’re giving me a choice. Anything else I should know?”

“No. What did you want to ask?”

“The mage incident.” Dallion split into instances, aiming to have a multi-aspect conversation with her. The overseer’s hand slammed onto his shoulder, causing all of his instances to fade away.

“No need for that,” she said calmly before taking her hand off. “Just ask.”

“The Nerosal mage thirteen years ago. You were here, right?”

“I was. There’s little more I can tell you that you don’t already know. The Academy protects its own.”

Dallion had serious doubts about that. The overseer probably knew plenty, but he let that slide for the moment.

“I’m not interested in the mages, but the awakened who fought them. I learned that he was banished from Nerosal. What I need from you is to tell me where.”

To Dallion’s surprise, the overseer stopped. There was no reason for this to be a politically sensitive question. One of the points of name erasure was to ensure that no one outside of the person’s immediate acquaintances knew anything about that person. As Nil had said once, it wasn’t about the name itself; it was about everything surrounding it.

“Are you sure?” she asked. “That’s out of your depth.”

“The whole hunt is out of my depth.” Dallion let out a careless smirk. “It’s the best lead I—”

“The person was able to fight a mage without the assistance of magic. You’ve had your encounters, but you had forgotten skills and friends to help you. The man in question was alone against several, and he still ended up on top.”

That was news. Dallion had heard various versions of the event. The most common was that one of the apprentice mages was too drunk and got into a sight with a highly skilled awakened. The versions agreed that it was the awakened that won, but only just. To have him fight several mages, even if all of them were drunk, was beyond impressive—it suggested that there was a method to the man’s success. No wonder that he would be banished.

“I’m only interested in the phoenix,” Dallion assured the overseer.

Even with her face entirely covered, he had a sense that she didn’t believe him.

“I won’t get involved with the Academy.”

“So much like your grandfather,” the woman sighed. “The man was banished to the village of Geheron. It’s a week’s journey from Dherma to the west. I hear that things have improved slightly with Dherma becoming a town, but not by much. If he’s alive, he should be there.”

Dallion’s heart skipped a beat. This had gone much better than expected. Now he knew where to find Havoc. All he had to do was go there, and given that he had the countess’ blessing for anything involved in the hunt, he’d receive all the support requested.

“Thanks.” He smiled.

“I’d suggest that you follow your other leads first before going there, but I know you won’t listen.”

“Why? Do you think he’s dead?” Dallion’s joy quickly turned to fear.

“I’m not the guardian of the province. It’s only certain that he’s in the village, alive or dead. The curse keeps him from leaving it on his own.”

“Will I be able to—” Dallion began, but before he could finish, the overseer had vanished.

Dallion split into instances, looking in all directions. All he was able to see was the furies moving away from the scene. Shortly after, the noise of the city surrounded him again. Things were back to normal. Part of him wanted to head to the village right now. Despite all the precautions there was always the danger that one of the competing sides had managed to make out his destination. Hunger and caution made Dallion remain for a day longer.

After enjoying the feast Aspan had prepared for him, Dallion went to him room for some rest. His latest journey must have been a lot more tiresome than he expected, for when he woke up it was well in the afternoon.

You have food here, the door said.

“So much for no food in the room.”

A tray was left on the floor in the corridor, containing soup and sandwiches.

“Who left it here?” Dallion asked.

The innkeeper.

“Hannah herself?”

That was rather surprising. If anyone had broken the rules, he expected it to be Di. Dallion took the tray and put it on his bed.

“What did she do when she left it?” has asked, as he went to his backpack and took the dryad bowl from it.

She left, the door guardian replied, uncertain about the question.

“Lux, look around for echoes,” Dallion ordered. The dartblade rose up into the air. The kaleidervisto attached to it, lit up, leaving a beam of light on the wall against it.

Meanwhile, Dallion poured the soup from the claw bowl into his own.

Sleeping herbs, the dryad guardian said. Enough to know you out for an entire night.

That was a new turn of events.

“Gleam, is this an illusion?”

No, the shardfly sighed. I’d have warned you.

“Just some soup with a knockout potion.” Dallion poured the soup back into its original container, then checked the sandwiches. They too had been soaked.

Hannah wouldn’t have done this, Nil insisted.

Dallion didn’t respond. As much as he wanted to believe the old echo, there wasn’t anyone else who could have done it. Assassins would have used poison, the general wouldn’t bother, and the mirror pool wouldn’t dare go against the countess. With Dallion being openly recognized as her hunter, any action against him would result in serious repercussions.

Gleam, how long will an illusion of me last? Dallion wiped the wooden bowl with the bedcover.

Not long. Probably an hour. Less if someone checks.

Do it. Make it look as if I’m asleep. Then, make me invisible. We’re leaving Nerosal.