A Snake’s Life Ch 80

Chapter 80

 

The dimly lit alley exuded an eerie atmosphere as two figures strolled leisurely through the darkness, their identities obscured by identical black hoods. Despite the labyrinthine twists and turns of the familiar path, they navigated it with unerring precision, soon arriving before a small door.

 

“Are you certain this is the place?”

 

“Yes. If you doubt it, you may verify with your own eyes.”

 

The woman let out a soft chuckle and pushed the door open without hesitation. Beyond the cramped, shadowy alley lay an unexpectedly opulent interior. Though the building appeared modest from the outside, its interior unfolded into expansive spaces far grander than its façade suggested. Faint light seeped through the cracks of the dark alleyway.

 

“Shall we proceed?”

 

“……”

 

The man responded with a silent nod, and the door closed behind them. Once inside, they removed their hoods, revealing themselves as Camilla and Casa. Yet no one recognized them—this was a clandestine venue, and all attendees wore masks to conceal their identities. They handed their hoods to a waiting attendant before a servant approached.

 

“Welcome. May I see your invitation?”

 

Camilla smoothly produced the invitation from within her robes. The servant retrieved a magnifying glass from his pocket, scrutinizing the document intently before returning it with a polite bow.

 

“Enjoy your evening.”

 

As the servant withdrew, Camilla leaned toward Casa and whispered discreetly. Even with their faces hidden, voices could betray them, so she took care to avoid being overheard.

 

“Just follow my lead.”

 

She strode forward with unwavering confidence. Casa’s brow furrowed involuntarily at the sight of the dissolute nobles before him. Some were even indulging in illicit substances, their pungent odor irritating his keen senses. Tables were littered with liquor bottles, and nobles gambled recklessly, their vulgar behavior laid bare.

 

“Your footsteps are too quiet. You’ll give us away.”

 

Camilla’s whisper brushed against Casa’s ear. His steps, naturally silent—a skill honed as Zerpell’s shadow—now risked suspicion. If their infiltration were discovered, their mission would be compromised.

 

“Understood.”

 

“Be careful.”

 

No one knew who might be watching. Camilla smirked at his response before turning and continuing forward. The casino was divided into two factions: those who flaunted their winnings and those desperate to reclaim their losses. That these were the empire’s nobles—men who had profited from war—disgusted Casa.

 

“Here we are.”

 

In a secluded corner of the casino stood a bar. Camilla nonchalantly took a seat, tapping the stool beside her to signal Casa to join.

 

“What may I get you?”

 

The bartender approached for their order, but Camilla rested her chin on her hand and slid him something with an air of practiced ease. The bartender’s eyes gleamed with recognition.

 

“Ah, a guest of *that* affiliation.”

 

What Camilla handed him was not the earlier invitation but a black one. The bartender unfolded it, then gestured discreetly to the attendants behind him. They bowed and promptly guided the pair forward.

 

“Impressive,” Casa remarked.

 

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Camilla replied lightly.

 

“First time here?”

 

A servant posed the question just before a large door. Camilla shook her head slightly.

 

“May you acquire fine offerings,” the servant said as the heavy door swung open.

 

Inside, attendees haggled over prices, waving placards as various trinkets and ornaments were auctioned. Camilla and Casa settled at a table, where she sipped the prepared tea with practiced calm.

 

“The main event hasn’t begun yet.”

 

“Is it functioning properly?”

 

“Of course.”

 

A large emerald necklace glimmered around her throat.

 

“His Highness is surrounded by capable people. To evade detection by scanners—such precision is remarkable.”

 

“That’s one way to put it.”

 

“My, how shameless of you.”

 

Casa shot her a sidelong glance. If anyone was shameless, it was her. Her smile never wavered, a mask so flawless it seemed genuine.

 

Though assigned as her escort for emergencies, Casa wondered if she even needed him—she handled everything effortlessly. Camilla gave his shoulder a light tap.

 

“It’s starting.”

 

The auctioneer cleared his throat and announced loudly:

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, the moment you’ve awaited has arrived! What came before was merely an appetizer. Now, the true auction begins!”

 

“Finally.”

 

“I nearly grew weary of waiting!”

 

“The quality better be worth it. Lately, it’s been abysmal.”

 

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. The auctioneer pacified them with a confident grin.

 

“In these trying times, securing valuable goods is no easy feat. Yet, it is our creed to provide only the finest, no matter how scarce. Rest assured, quality is guaranteed.”

 

“Then let us proceed. First up…”

 

What followed needed no explanation. People trembling like aspen leaves were brought forward—some gagged, others screaming, weeping, or resigned. Each writhed in despair. Camilla covered her mouth discreetly; Casa observed impassively. The slaves struggled, but their fate was sealed. Once sold, a brand was seared into their flesh.

 

“Disgusting… They even brand them.”

 

Camilla’s voice trembled with fury. She seemed to recognize the practice. When Casa questioned her, she flicked open a fan and whispered into his ear:

 

“…An archaic, vile custom. Though slavery is now outlawed, it wasn’t always so. The brand ensured absolute obedience—rendering them less than human. They become incapable of defiance, bound only to commands.”

 

The emerald necklace captured every moment in its glow.

 

Once it ended, they left the stench-ridden hall.

 

“Rotting bastards.”

 

The crude words from the refined noblewoman startled Casa—though his reaction was merely a slight widening of his eyes. Yet he understood. Even he, accustomed to bloodshed, found their actions nauseating.

 

Noticing his gaze, Camilla blinked slowly.

 

“Something the matter?”

 

“No. It was just… unexpected.”

 

“Was it?”

 

She peered at him with a slightly petulant expression.

 

“I *do* use profanity. Sparingly, but it’s not beneath me. If not for *that* spectacle, then when? Such words exist for a reason. Those who forsake their humanity deserve nothing less.”

 

“I agree.”

 

“We must safeguard this evidence—precious to us *and* damning to them.”

 

She lifted the emerald necklace with a smile. To Casa, it seemed weary yet resolute. She handed it to him, and he secured it carefully.

 

“Then, deliver it safely to His Highness.”

 

With a slight bow, she turned away. Casa watched her retreating figure before following briskly.

 

—

 

The tapping at the window drew Ian’s attention. A hawk pecked at the glass with its beak. After reading the missive, Ian headed straight to Zerpell’s chambers. A light knock summoned the prince, dressed casually.

 

“A letter from Casa.”

 

Zerpell’s eyes gleamed sharply.

 

“Understood.”

 

Upon reaching the study, Casa arrived on horseback moments later. He strode in and produced the evidence. Ian pressed the necklace’s clasp, and light erupted, projecting the recorded scenes. As the footage ended, the glow faded.

 

“…Remarkable.”

 

Ian’s succinct observation earned a nod.

 

“This is the reality here. We must sever the rot at its root.”

 

“Yet this alone doesn’t prove Marquis Franchia’s involvement. He could claim mere patronage and shift blame to other nobles.”

 

“I’m aware.”

 

Past incidents had taught Zerpell better. If the Marquis severed ties, the situation would complicate. But this footage provided legitimate grounds for action—requiring caution. Destroying the casino wouldn’t suffice; the source had to be eradicated.

 

Casa spoke cautiously.

 

“Your Highness. The Magic Tower may be involved.”

 

Zerpell’s gaze sharpened. Ian ran a hand through his hair, exasperated.

 

“Your reasoning.”

 

“First, invitations were enchanted for authentication. Second, spatial magic linked shifting locations periodically. Third, the brands—and the incident in the sanctuary—suggest their hand.”

 

“The Tower operates independently. More likely, it’s an individual, not the institution.”

 

“……”

 

Zerpell drummed his fingers. The logic was sound. The Tower, neutral and reclusive, rarely meddled in politics. Would they truly stoop to this for wealth—or power?

 

Ian interjected carefully.

 

“This distraction may be opportune. Duke Bert’s appearances at social gatherings have forced him to fortify his standing. His palace visits have grown infrequent.”

 

“How tedious. His tardiness is the only silver lining.”

 

Zerpell’s tone was icy. His gaze pinned Ian, who tensed under its weight.

 

“You have something to say?”

 

“The Magic Tower falls to you.”

 

“What?”

 

Zerpell ignored Ian’s shock.

 

“You alone have ties there. If it’s an individual, their cooperation may prove vital. No objections.”

 

Ian gaped. Returning to the place he’d fled was the last thing he’d imagined.

 

“…Understood.”

 

“Your concerns are noted. I’ll assign knights for security. Compensation will be generous.”

 

“Then, fund tracing leads to the Temple and the Tower?”

 

“Precisely.”

 

“And the Temple?”

 

Zerpell smirked.

 

“The Temple thrives on public faith. Their foundation is sand. Once truth surfaces, they’ll vanish without a trace.”

 

Faith upheld the Temple—its loss would erase its purpose. A leader who defiled the sanctuary? Unforgivable.

 

“Shuiren’s testimony would bolster our case.”

 

“You intend to involve him?”

 

Ian’s eyes widened. He’d always acted discreetly to shield Shuiren.

 

“He’s aware of my grievances. Unresolved, this threatens us both.”

 

Ian knew of Zerpell’s covert meeting with the Pope. It had clearly shifted something within him.

 

“Your Highness, I’ve investigated the Pope.”

 

“What is he scheming?”

 

“He’s been quiet. Shortly after your departure, he left the territory.”

 

“The bell?”

 

“The church remains, as do its clergy. But a villager reported seeing a priest ascending to the bell tower at dawn.”

 

The bell tower’s height was staggering.

 

“He climbed *that*?”

 

“Yes. The witness described a faint figure in white vestments. Since returning, the Pope has been reclusive, guarded heavily. But correspondence continues—likely with the Empress.”

 

“Their alliance is transactional. I wonder how long it’ll last.”

 

Zerpell’s eyes gleamed.

 

“The casino is priority, but monitor the Pope and Empress. Casa—well done.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“The hour grows late. Dismissed.”

 

With the Pope and Empress cornered, time was on their side. As Casa departed, Zerpell smiled in satisfaction.