Upon hearing this, Charles gritted his teeth inwardly: "That bastard... Never expected such complications to arise..."
As he spoke, countless thoughts raced through his mind. The more he pondered, the more Sophia seemed like an immense threat: "Hattie, tell me—if you and Ruth joined forces, could you subdue Sophia?"
Now, he had to consider purging the Memory Witch as soon as possible.
At this point, Sophia had nearly uncovered his most closely guarded secrets. For his own safety, she had to be dealt with swiftly!
Yet, he was acutely aware of Sophia’s erratic strength. Acting now carried risks of failure.
For caution’s sake, it was better to wait until after the Night of the Witches, when he had purified Ruth, before making his move.
Hattie hesitated briefly, then contemplated silently: "In this matter... I can’t say for certain. At her peak, Sophia could very well defeat Ruth and me together."
"But judging by her displayed state in recent years... Master, if I survive this Night of the Witches, I’m confident we can overpower her with Ruth’s help!"
Hearing this, Charles finally exhaled in relief: "Good... That’s good."
Now, all that remained was ensuring no further mishaps in the remaining nine days.
His fragile heart couldn’t possibly endure another shock !
Meanwhile, after leaving the scriptorium, Sophia slowly wriggled her pedipalps as she strolled steadily through the monastery gardens.
Yet her mind was anything but calm. Worry etched her face—she couldn’t shake her concern for Hattie’s current state.
In that condition... can she really be relied upon?
What if something went terribly wrong during this Night of the Witches...?
Her thoughts churned until a cool voice cut through from behind: "Sophia? You seem troubled. Did something happen?"
Sophia lifted her gaze slightly—just in time to see a petite, slender figure flicker abruptly into view before her.
Recognizing her, Sophia’s eyes brightened at once. "Yes, sister. Truth be told, I’m deeply worried about Hattie’s current state."
Ruth’s eyebrow arched. "Oh? You’ve noticed too? She’s been keeping that white-haired human as a pet lately. But I suspect she’s grown... indulgent with its freedoms."
Though resentment toward Charles simmered within her, Ruth hesitated—then chose not to add, "She even slept with the thing."
For one, she’d only caught the scent, not the act itself.
More importantly, in her worldview, such deeds were unspeakably shameful. Exposing Hattie’s secrets would only earn the wrath of a powerful witch.
Sophia’s eyes gleamed. "You sensed it too? I’ve had the exact same thought. Hattie spoils him rotten—she even borrowed coin from me to buy him spellbooks! Now he’s in the scriptorium, learning magic!"
Despite her fury over earlier events, Sophia bit back the words: "She even revealed she’s a witch to him."
First, betraying Hattie completely would mean provoking another formidable witch.
Second, the human remained utterly under Hattie’s thumb—deluded into believing he’d "Purified" her and become her Master.
Pathetic. Did the fool fancy himself some Chosen One of the Gods of Order? Purified? Master?
Hah. Stupid, wretched human.
Thus, in Sophia’s view, the situation wasn’t that severe. Merely mentioning these points should suffice to make Ruth empathize.
As expected, upon hearing this, murderous intent flickered in Ruth’s eyes: "Is that so? Hattie truly spoils her pet too much! Between us, Sophia, I’ve long wanted to kill that human. Keeping him is nothing but trouble, yet Hattie forbids it..."
Sophia’s eyes brightened further, her heart swelling with delight. In an instant, her vast experience helped her craft the perfect words: "Oh, dearest Ruth, I completely agree with your judgment. That man must be eliminated, or he’ll surely become a threat to our monastery."
After a pause, she continued: "I support you killing him yourself. But Ruth—now isn’t the time."
The murderous intent in Ruth’s eyes gradually faded, her beautiful purple-red eyes filled with confusion: "Why?"
Sophia’s lips curled slightly as she patiently explained: "Think—the Night of the Witches approaches. If you act now and kill Hattie’s beloved pet, what if she bears a grudge? What if she acts recklessly, consumed by vengeance? How would you survive this Night of the Witches then?"
"Ruth, my dear sister, I know everyone’s safety matters, but you must consider yourself too!"
Ruth pondered carefully before replying, her tone laced with reluctance: "Then... I’ll strike after the Night of the Witches passes?"
Sophia nodded repeatedly: "That would be most appropriate. When the time comes, I’ll join you in this endeavor."
After another pause, she added: "But I fear I might lose these memories after the Night of the Witches. So when that happens, you’ll need to find me and help restore my state."
Ruth met her earnest dark eyes and nodded solemnly: "Yes, I promise. I’ll make sure of it!"
Hearing this, Sophia finally exhaled in relief.
With the two most powerful witches in the monastery—aside from Theresa—pledging to aid me... This Night of the Witches should be virtually assured of success!
"The Xanathar’s Guild is smuggling an extremely valuable magical artifact through the port in the South Harbor District?"
Bathed in warm sunlight by the massive floor-to-ceiling window, Gale Porter, an executive of Amazon Fisheries Company, sat with legs crossed in a boorish yet undeniably charismatic manner. Her heavy black eyebrows furrowed as she glared at the golden-haired, blue-eyed, long-eared male Sun elf smiling at her from the opposite sofa.
Gale Porter was a quintessential Amazon woman—crimson-black, naturally curly big-wave long hair framing a wild, striking face, brown gleaming skin, and a toned, enviable figure.
She wore only a red leather armor that barely covered her chest and a pair of extremely short blue shorts, as if she never felt the cold. Her exposed abdomen and thighs bore not an ounce of fat, the defined lines of her abs and the firmness of her thighs radiating a feral strength that made one yearn to either conquer this lioness or be conquered by her.
Right now, her thick brows were knitted tightly, her blue eyes locked onto the young man across from her. "Mr. Starsong, why bring this information to me?"
By her understanding, intel usually led the Zhentarim to strong-arm smugglers into buying it—effectively locking down the leak.
Yet here they were, offering it to her directly. Did that mean negotiations with the Xanathar had gone sour?
The male Sun elf facing her was none other than Daevyl Starsong, senior agent of the Zhentarim and employer of the half-orc woman Yagra.
Golden-haired and blue-eyed, handsome with taut skin, he appeared youthful. But an elf’s age could never be judged by looks. From what Porter knew, this senior agent was at least two centuries old.
In response to her question, the Sun elf maintained his elegant smile. "As you’ve witnessed, the Xanathar’s arrogance has broken the long-standing rules of the intelligence market. After deliberation, we agreed this intel belongs in the hands of the true master of the South Harbor District."
A flattering remark—though Amazon Fisheries Company was far from controlling the entire district, it still pleased Porter.
Yet even so, the battle-hardened executive wasn’t about to recklessly purchase the intel. "I appreciate the gesture, Mr. Starsong, but I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed."
"Hundreds of smuggled goods pass through the South Harbor District yearly. We’re just a small company, hardly equipped to handle such matters."
"So, I suggest you take this valuable information to the District Office instead. I’m sure the guard force will manage it... perfectly."
A high-level executive of Amazon Fisheries Company didn’t rise to her position by brute force alone. Negotiation, price manipulation, and reading her opponent were equally part of Porter’s expertise.
After all, anyone who’d spent time in the South Harbor District knew the District Office’s promises were worth less than a fart.
Across from her, the Sun elf was well aware she was just driving a hard bargain. His smile didn’t waver in the slightest, as if he already had her cornered. "Ms. Porter makes a fair point. But what if I told you the man overseeing this smuggling operation is... Kendrz?"
Kendrz—one of Xanathar’s Guild’s senior executives, holding the position of "Guild Commander." He was the chief person in charge of this smuggling mission.
The one-eyed in the warehouse, the bald man Charles beat to a pulp—all were his subordinates.
At the mention of that name, the Amazonian executive’s pupils visibly contracted. "Him?"
Her chest rose and fell sharply. There was no shortage of bloodied history between them. But then she exhaled slowly, her tone deliberately measured. "I admire your thoroughness, Mr. Starsong. You’ve done your homework."
"However, as a company executive, I don’t let personal grudges interfere with business. Surely you understand?"
The Sun elf gave a slight nod, his smile unwavering. "Of course, Ms. Porter. Your professionalism is commendable. But what if I added that the ships being used for this smuggling operation... belong to Amazon Fisheries Company?"
"One of your mid-level enforcers is selling out the company’s interests to aid Xanathar’s Guild. As an executive, you can’t possibly turn a blind eye to such betrayal, can you?"
Porter’s eyes lit up.
Truth be told, this was barely worth mentioning. What enforcer didn’t pad their pockets or exploit company resources?
Even a ten-person outfit skimmed coins during supply runs.
For a large enterprise like Amazon Fisheries Company, with thousands of employees, mid-level enforcers lining their own pockets was practically expected.
But officially? Such behavior demanded ruthless crackdowns!
"In that case, disciplinary action is unavoidable!" The Amazonian executive’s expression turned grave, righteous fury dripping from her words. "Internal corruption has long been a festering wound in Her Majesty’s eyes. This demands an iron-fisted response!"
Privately, though? She was thanking him for handing her a company-sanctioned chance to settle her personal grudge.