Finn Coravin struck a match and lit his pipe. He took a deep breath, then tried to exhale all his irritability and smoke into the cool morning air.

He didn't make it.

Still angry at the loss of his vacation, the captain pulled his pipe out of his mouth, held it in his hand, and paced up the courtyard once more, examining the things he had already looked at with a sophisticated gaze, while sorting through the information he had gathered so far.

Guards witnessed two attackers, an orc who had recently escaped from prison and caused panic in the city, and a male human with short black hair and unmarked armor. The patrol saw no trace of the orcs at all, further proving the man's incredible strength. Several people swore that they had made each other bleed, but that didn't change the fact that they were brought down by one who didn't fall.

However, no one was killed in the attack, not even the hounds were huddled in the kennel unharmed, but they were very depressed. This left Finn very confused. Burning down a granary would be a capital offense, and normally such outlaws would not care about adding a few extra blood debts to their hands. Therefore, the restraint shown by this move is amazing, especially considering the involvement of orcs.

What kind of person can control an orc, and for what purpose? Finn thought about it repeatedly, but couldn't find a clue. He approached the warehouse, where all that remained of the original walls was some charred black planks, and the boxes of grain stored in them were almost reduced to ashes. Finn glanced at it, and a vague thought crossed his mind—from the attack to the extinguishing of the fire, it only lasted a few hours, and there was nothing left of a warehouse of grain?

After a little thought, he put this doubt aside. His subordinates have questioned the night patrol team and the neighboring residents separately, and no one has reported seeing suspicious people moving in groups or carrying boxes, bags, etc. And how much food can two people take away? Rather than raiding here with great effort and provoking the city guards, who are already furious about escaping from prison, it is more reliable to find a grocery store. The other party's purpose is obvious, which is to destroy the grain stored here.

For revenge? Or is it to distract from it? Probably both. The Silver Hand was not scrutinized at the gates, but it was difficult for an orc to escape from under their noses. But what about the human race, if it was to blame the orcs for everything, why did they have to come out themselves? And if he only needs thugs, he can recruit those lawless ruffians without exposing the traces of the orcs.

Finn folded his arms in deep thought as he slowly walked out of the courtyard. Seeing the crowd gathered around him to watch the excitement, his eyebrows suddenly twisted, and he was about to open his mouth to scold the soldier in charge of guarding, but the words stopped abruptly in his throat. The veteran's instincts made him feel a sharp gaze without looking back, coming from the direction of the crowd.

This kind of feeling is by no means something that ordinary people can bring to him. Finn tried not to show anything unusual, and slowly turned around, trying to find the source of the gaze covertly, only to find that he happened to meet a pair of eyes. The abrupt stares surprised both of them at the same time. The man in the gray cloak in the crowd subconsciously took a step back, and this action suddenly made Finn's eyes sharpen.

"Who are you?" He asked loudly, but he didn't expect the other party to turn around and run away when he heard the words. The captain immediately determined that this man must have something to do with what was happening here, perhaps even the attacker himself. He didn't bother to gather his own soldiers again, he chased after him without hesitation, "Hey, you, stop!" ”

The bewildered crowd rushed to make way for the two rampagers, and even then, Finn pushed and stumbled all the way out of the crowd. Deaf to the whining voices around him, he quickly chased after the gray figure. At first, he tried to delay the other with a warning, but after running two streets, Finn stopped the wasteful behavior and focused on closing the distance between them, deciding to catch the suspect first before anything else.

The captain soon discovered that this was not an easy task. The opponent's speed and endurance are not inferior to him. The few soldiers who could keep up were soon left behind, leaving only Finn, determined to catch the other man, in hot pursuit. His chance was that the other party didn't seem to be familiar with the city, and he inevitably hesitated at every fork in the road, and Fein used it to close the distance between them a little, but not enough.

They chased and fled, dodging the slow-moving carriages on the main road, jumping over the stalls of the market vendors, passing through alleys full of flower pots and drying clothes, bypassing the haphazard stacks of barrels and crates, and turning a deaf ear to the screams and curses of passers-by. The road underfoot has changed from paved cobblestone to potholed dirt, and the stone walls on both sides have been replaced by simple shacks nailed to wooden boards. The race had already spanned nearly half of the city, but Finn didn't bother to think about it. He was exhausted, his throat was on fire, his heart was beating like a drum, and his sweat-soaked uniform was clinging to his back. It was all out of will—the resistance to report to the enraged baron, and the anger at the loss of paid leave, which kept him up to where he is now.

And the man he was chasing also significantly reduced his speed. In fact, the other party showed signs of exhaustion earlier than Finn, but after a short sprint he would pick himself up again, as if he had taken a stimulant or something. But no matter what means he has, he is now close to the end of the strong bow. Regardless of the outcome, this race won't last long.

The variables appeared a few minutes later. Finn panted and jumped over a pit and chased his prey into an alley again. Instead of running further, the Grey Cloak turned and jumped through the window into a house on the right. Fein subconsciously glanced ahead before overcoming his inertia - it was a dead end - and he jumped into the window as well.

His sore muscles prevented him from jumping high enough, and his knee slammed into the ledge. Finn's quick reaction was to hold his head in his hands and roll forward to avoid the possibility of falling face down. As soon as he landed, he stood up as fast as he could, ready for the attack.

But no one attacked him. Unlike what gang den he had in mind, the empty house had apparently been abandoned for a long time. There was a thick layer of dust on the ground, a three-legged stool, a coffee table with a large hole, a deformed candlestick...... Worthless rags like this were the only things here, and there was no sign of the gray-robed man he was chasing.

Finn couldn't believe he had lost his target. Dust is nothing compared to that. He looked to the ground, trying to find some clues. But any footprints that could have been left on this small piece of ground were destroyed by his forward roll.

The captain did not give up immediately. He walked through the room, looked at the opposite window, climbed the crumbling staircase, and searched the second floor, but still found nothing. He almost wanted to roar in frustration, if it weren't for the still-burning pain in his throat. Finn's legs went limp, and he slowly walked out of the damn house, thinking about how he was going to find the suspicious gray robe, and how far he would have to go to find a carriage.

He noticed that two people dressed as gangsters appeared at the entrance of the alley, and immediately frowned slightly and became vigilant. However, they didn't stare at Finn, they just shook the bottle in their hands and walked in this direction nonchalantly, looking just to find a place to drink. Finn quickened his pace, trying to distance himself from them as quickly as possible. He knew all too well how rampant gangs were in the area. He was alone now, and if there was a conflict, it was inevitable that he would suffer, and maybe something worse would happen.

They passed by unharmed, and the two thugs even took the initiative to get out of the way, albeit with foul language and a mouthful of spit. Finn breathed a sigh of relief and slowed down, his leg still aching.

Maybe I'll get a horse to get around. He pondered. The statute prohibits running around the city, but—

He slammed the back of his head with a crisp cracking sound and liquid flowing into his collar. Fein spun around sharply as he reached for his sword. But before that, someone had grabbed him by the shoulders and clinged to his back. A sharp weapon pierced him in the lower back, deep into his abdomen. A strong, sharp pain rushed in, and Finn opened his mouth but couldn't make a sound. This is followed by the second and third strokes. The captain's ears rumbled, and he could still hear the sound of steel tearing flesh and blood clearly. When the assailant finally let go of him, Finn collapsed in a pool of his own blood with a slow and twisted movement.

Most of the time, what people fear is not the nothingness that death itself brings, but the pain that goes with it. Fein fully understands this. He twitched and screamed in pain, but the sound was only in his head, and he could only spit some bloody foam out of his mouth. For a brief moment, he wished that it was all over at once, regardless of the cost. But the desire to survive leads him to grasp the pain, which is evidence that life still exists, even if it only lasts for a short time. His life is already a candle in the wind, destined to be extinguished.

- Just then, the light came.

It comes from the outside. Gentle but swift, as strong as a tidal wave. Extinguish the flames of pain and dispel the shadow of death. The light flowed into his body, passed through and healed the muscles and veins, touched his soul deeply, and soothed all the fears in his heart.

Finn was finally able to breathe well. He inhaled heavily, still feeling intense dizziness and weakness. Someone touched him lightly, checked his heartbeat and breathing, and then a low, determined voice asked, "How are you feeling?" ”

"No...... It hurts," Finn struggled to answer, "I'm still alive...... Is it? ”

"Yes." The voice agreed, "You'll live too." Now relax and rest for a while, it's safe here, but you're bleeding too much. ”

Finn struggled to open his eyes. His vision was blurry at this point, but it was still enough for him to make out something—a piece of cloth, stained with blood, still mostly gray. He braced his elbows on the ground, slicing his head to move his gaze upwards and meet a pair of piercing green eyes.

"My name," read his unspoken inquiry, and said in a firm and calm tone, "it's Tirio Fortin." ”