Lord of Mysteries: The Lord of Power

The weathered and rugged boss happened to catch Furen's gaze. Slightly startled, his wrinkled face broke into a faint smile. With his short, stubby fingers, he pointed at Furen and then at the slightly open space at the bar in front of him.

Not understanding his intentions, Furen walked over to the bar closest to the boss, ready to hear what the man had to say.

Before Furen could ask anything, the rough-looking boss, with a hint of brusqueness in his tone, said to him, "Kid, you're obviously new to places like this. That clueless look of yours—I've seen at least 800 of them over the past year if not 1,000. Come on, let your uncle here give you a little introduction to the way things work."

As he spoke, the strong smell of alcohol wafted towards Furen along with his words. Furen, however, did not follow the boss's lead and refrained from answering. Instead, he stood in front of the boss, glanced at the menu on the bar, and said, "A glass of Stellar Galaxy."

The boss chuckled, clicked his tongue, and said to the bartender, "Our little friend here is acting like a pimp trying to fool the madam. Fine, let's play along with the kid's game, shall we? Hahaha."

The boss's vulgar remarks drew bursts of crude laughter from the surrounding patrons. Furen suppressed his disgust for the man, furrowed his brow slightly, and remained silent.

The boss continued, "Alright then, judging by the look on your face, you've got business with me. Since you're being so cooperative, just spill it—what do you want?"

Furen resisted the urge to punch the man and calmly replied, "I was sent by 'The Scholar.' As for why I'm here, I assume I don't need to spell it out for you."

The boss's expression shifted slightly—surprised but composed—as he said, "Hah, The Scholar. Haven't heard that name in, what, four or five years? That guy's probably dead by now, isn't he? So, what are you, his nephew? Son?"

Turning, the boss yelled, "Ober Wright! You lazy little rascal, get over here! Take this kid upstairs to one of the empty billiard rooms. I'll be there shortly."

Just then, the bartender handed Furen his Stellar Galaxy cocktail. The drink, with its dark blue-black base and specks of silvery-white powder, shimmered faintly. Without saying a word, Furen took the drink and followed the person the boss had called Ober Wright—a tavern errand boy—upstairs.

Ober, unbothered by Furen's cold and slightly annoyed demeanor, cheerfully remarked, "Hey there, buddy! That outfit of yours looks real cool. Over the years, I've seen plenty of guys like you—obviously different from the rest of us—being invited upstairs by the boss. What are you all even up to? Makes me so curious, haha!"

At first, Furen paid no attention to Ober's chatter, but when he mentioned "years," Furen's expression shifted slightly. With a hint of curiosity, he asked, "Ober, how long have you been working at this tavern? Tell me about the others like me that you've brought here."

Though Furen didn't answer Ober's question, Ober didn't seem to mind. He eagerly continued, "Oh, me? I'm pretty much a veteran here at the Flaming Axe tavern. Sure, I'm not one of those six or seven-year-old-timers, but the boss really values me! I'm not just some random kid, you know. Even though he's always yelling at me, when it comes to getting things done, there's no one else he can rely on but me."

Furen could tell that Ober liked to ramble and often veered off-topic, but he gathered one crucial detail: Ober had never met his father. It made sense, Furen thought. When his father, Martin, first entered the Flaming Axe tavern, it was Martin's father who had led the way. Furen, however, had never heard of his grandfather.

Lost in thought, Furen was brought back to reality when Ober continued his rambling: "…and as for the most recent guy like you, maybe about a month ago? Some nobleman—or a rich merchant's son, maybe. That guy was even colder than you! But man, he was sharp. Just a few words from him, and the boss was stumped. I was the one who took him upstairs to have a nice, long chat with the boss! So, hey, what exactly are you people here to do?"

By this point, Ober's curious gaze was fixed expectantly on Furen. However, Furen did not answer. Instead, he pondered for a moment before they reached an empty billiard room.

Ober pushed open the door, and as Furen entered, he gave a playful smirk and said, "It's complicated, but it's also not. Simply put, we're here to make a deal with the boss. A deal that can't be shared with anyone else. If this deal succeeds, though, death might follow at any moment. Not just that—the government and the Church will hunt you down as an enemy. So, you still want to know?"

Furen's teasing smile sent a shiver down Ober's spine. The errand boy tried to maintain his composure but stammered slightly as he said, "Tch, you rich folks are all great at lying, huh? Well, Ober Wright doesn't pry into customers' secrets. A good worker knows when to stay out of it."

Muttering under his breath, Ober added, "I'll leave you to it. The boss said he's counting on me, and I've got better things to do than waste time here. A hardworking guy like me is always in demand."

With that, Ober hurriedly opened the door, stepped out, and shut it behind him with almost comical speed. His quick footsteps echoed down the hallway.

Furen chuckled and shook his head at Ober's antics. He scanned the billiard room, pulled out a chair, and placed his cocktail on the table. Leaning back against the chair, he rested his arm on the billiard table, letting his head settle comfortably on his hand. As he relaxed, he began to contemplate his next move while waiting for the tavern boss to arrive.

Within ten minutes, the door to the billiard room creaked open. Furen picked up his glass and turned to see the tavern boss stepping inside.

The boss, whose face showed his age but whose body seemed fit and energetic, didn't wait for Furen to speak. With a grin, he said, "Well now, kid. Didn't expect you to spook Ober like that. Sure, he's a bit of a scaredy-cat, but out of all the people he's brought upstairs, you're the first to pull that off."

Then, without pausing for breath, the boss continued, "You want to become extraordinary, don't you? No, you probably already are. The Scholar was just like this when he first came here. Alright then, you can call me Sam Widows. Looks like we'll be working together quite a bit from now on."