Reed Stevens
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Chapter Three Hundred and Six: A Raucous Reprieve (Part Eight)
🕑 Added 2022-02-19 01:36:50 +0000 UTC“I tell you, I get no respect,” muttered Nolan, the cultural reference going unrecognized. “Would it have killed her to say hello?”
He was only at the third level of Integration, after all, while Nyla was at the peak of the entire stage. That wasn’t to say that he was some dust on the roadside in the eyes of those around them, since on the surface he was only a seventeen-year-old youth that had a similar cultivation level to some of the weaker guards in attendance. He wasn’t a bad-looking fellow either, which he was reminded of as he caught a few of the mistresses here and there stealing glances in his direction. Still, he couldn’t hide his distaste at the fact that nearly every man in the area was openly staring at Nyla, despite their attempts at discretion.
When did I become such a bird? He nearly rolled his eyes as he reminded himself that he had zero reason to care about the opinions of the people around him. Nyla was gorgeous, so she was bound to draw some attention, especially when she was wearing such a body-accentuating dress as the thin black one that she currently wore.
“See that table?” she said, pointing to one of the longer ones where twenty people were seated. “Do you recognize the crest they’re wearing?”
Nolan looked over to see the most commanding figure staring back at Nyla with hungry eyes. The man’s beard was a well-trimmed affair of curly, grey strands, his eyes silver like the cold steel of a freshly forged blade. Observing the sigil on his breast—a pair of crossed swords behind a white dove—he shrugged, unimpressed, and admitted that he had no idea what house, kingdom, or clan the man was from.
“You really don’t remember? We saw dozens of people with that crest back in Hauss. I think that man was a high-ranking noble of the southern territory before it fell.”
“Some leader,” he said, not caring if the man could hear him. “He ran off like a puss while we were stuck there doing all the fighting and killing.” There was nothing like a crisis to show people’s true colours, especially those of their leaders. After all of the terrible atrocities he had seen the people of Hauss suffer during the hellish days that he had spent there, it was increasingly annoying to see the cowardly nobles laughing along with their companions as they dined on unnecessarily lavish meals.
Evidently the man did hear him, as he peeled his dogged gaze away from Nyla to fix him with a disgruntled glare before he returned his attention to his meal, though not before engaging in a hushed exchange with some of the men at his table.
The first server girl arrived with their wine a moment later, two large silver jugs inlaid with all sorts of glittering jewels. She also told them how much their meal and accompanying beverages would cost, a whopping total of 3,000 spirit stones. Since he and his friends had well over 2,000,000’s worth, he gave her five hundred as a tip and told her to split it with the other girl, much to her amazement and delight. It wasn’t so much that he was generous, but rather had been too lazy to ask for change after having paid with 100 superior spirit stones, which were worth 35 times the amount of ordinary ones. He had tens of thousands of these, but was quickly running out of their lesser counterparts.
“Come to think of it,” he said, smiling after a surprisingly pleasant sip of juice-tasting wine. “I’m seeing a lot of familiar sigils.”
“So you did read the book I lent you.”
She was referring to a collection of information on all of the noble houses in the Easterly Kingdoms that she had purchased back in Ferguson, the town that they had fled to after leaving Greenwall after battling a small force of Bloodhand Sect disciples in the southernmost province of Verdure.
“How could I not? It was a gift from my favourite person, after all.”
In this dining hall alone sat three dukes from just as many kingdoms, as well as a few counts and marquises. If what he had seen in Hauss had been any indication, the lower-ranking nobles had opted to defend their lands and their peoples rather than choosing to flee northward with their wealth. Interestingly enough, the wealthiest people here—the ones with the least space on their tabletops—all seemed to be members of the CMA. Just how wealthy was their organization if so many of their members possessed the same amount of assets as the upper nobility of some of the larger kingdoms on the eastern side of the continent?
Their food arrived a short while later, several platters made of the lucrative star gold that were all heavily laden with top-quality cuts of meat, rare fruits and vegetables, and soft, freshly-baked bread. Something worthy of noting was that every one of the foods that Nolan ate replenished his inner energies by various degrees, even the wine. After taking a few sips, he judged that it was just as good as the amberwood ale.
Damn well better be, for 300 spirit stones per jug.
They finished eating in due time, enjoying each other’s company under a backdrop of muffled conversation and clinking cutlery. Nolan made sure to order twenty more jugs of the delicious wine, enjoying his drunken feeling as he and Nyla waited for these beverages to be brought out. It was around this time that everyone within the dining hall suddenly quieted down, which described the arrival of some high-profile person or other. Looking over at the entrance, Nolan’s eyes settled on a trio of middle-aged men that strode over to the kitchen area without an escort.
A big shot, eh?
The man in the middle was at the seventh level of the Integration stage—which was still quite impressive in a general sense, despite his middling age—though the men that flanked him were both at the first level of Genesis. These three wore short cloaks of electric blue fabric that were trimmed with thin layers of white fur, which matched their tunics and trousers. All of their buckles and buttons were made of star gold, and so too was the jewelry that adorned their fingers, necks and ears. Unlike the men at his sides, however, the one in the middle boasted a badge on the breast of his tunic that had a double layer of golden gilding. The treasure chest of black thread was a few shades lighter than that of his companions.
Upon seeing the man, all of the servants bowed deeply in his direction, and the head manager of the restaurant ran out to greet him.
“I wonder what position this guy holds in the CMA,” said Nyla, who was also looking his way.
Nolan nodded in agreement. “We really need to find out how their organization is structured. We should be in North Island by the end of the month, and I don’t like the idea of being there and not knowing about the people that run the place.”
A calculating glint ran through Nyla’s eyes. “This is as good a spot as any to learn about such things. When we get back to the inn, let’s talk to the others about this and then see if we can all gather some information together in the morning.”
He nodded along, judging that this was indeed a good idea.
One of the server girls came by a short while later, placing a single jug of wine on the table.
“Um, we ordered 20 bottles. Did you guys run out or something?” He didn’t really mind if they had, he just wanted to make sure that his money was refunded.
“Your wine will be out in a minute, sir.” Taking the liberty of pouring them each a glass of the golden liquid, the girl slid a chalice in front of each of them. “This is a bottle of our prized golden spirits. It’s made from heavenly dew, which is an extremely rare substance that is hard to come by even for the kings of the lower kingdoms.” With a bit of pride in her voice, she added, “Heavenly dew makes up at least ten percent of this drink.”
Nolan hid a smirk, knowing that he and his friends had over a hundred barrels’ worth of heavenly dew sitting idly within their spatial bags. He’d even taken a bath in one of these barrels just this morning. “Wow,” he said, his eyes lighting up as he took a remarkably sweet sip of the vodka-like drink. “How much does one of these jugs go for?” He judged that a single cup of this liquid could replenish about 20 percent of his dantian’s energy, which was no small amount.
“One jug sells for 10,000 spirit stones, or 100 cards of star gold.” Black hair and a wise, walnut gaze, a well-built man had just approached their table. “I hope you enjoy it, Miss.”
Nolan suppressed a frown as he recognized one of the three CMA members that had just walked into the restaurant, specifically the one that had been in the middle.
