After reading aloud for a while, Charles paused, stretched, and let his brain unwind.
Even with the aid of two special abilities, learning an entirely new language in seven days was still a daunting task.
Fortunately, his past life had made him something of an overachiever—otherwise, he might not have pulled it off.
Behind him, hearing his recitation stop, Ruth quickly stood, picked up the teapot, and poured him a steaming cup. "Master, take a break."
Charles accepted it, warmth blooming in his chest, then closed his eyes. "How’s the data analysis coming along?"
Ruth’s middle fingers pressed skillfully against his temples, kneading with even pressure as she answered, "Almost done. I’ve cross-referenced the total growth, net growth, growth rate, growth velocity, and even the rate of change in growth velocity—drawn over twenty line charts for comparison."
"Beyond that, I’m also working on pie charts for Amazon Fisheries’ expenditures, market share distribution, and other metrics..."
She stumbled through the jargon Charles had only recently taught her, her phrasing clumsy but serviceable. It didn’t need to be perfect—he just needed enough overwhelming data and flashy graphs to convince the blue dragon bankers that he was the expert.
That was the beauty of blue dragon banks: vast wealth, deep pockets, and little concern for returns. Unlike the gold dragons, who scrutinized every investment with meticulous research and ROI calculations, blue dragons invested mostly to inspire awe.
They certainly weren’t lacking in coin. Powerstones in this era held a status comparable to oil, coal, and natural gas combined—and those crafted from a blue dragon’s own breath and scales were universally recognized as the highest quality...
In short, who wouldn’t love a deep-pocketed patron both wealthy and easily swayed?
"Your efforts are appreciated." Charles opened his eyes and turned back to the book before him with a quiet sigh. "Whether this succeeds... depends entirely on whether I can secure substantial investment from the blue dragons tomorrow."
This was his first time putting such a scheme into practice, and tension coiled in his chest.
A mosquito buzzed through the doorway, alighting near his ear. "Master," it whispered, "there’s new movement in the slums."
"Recently, it seems a group has been deliberately spreading rumors—claiming certain individuals were seen in the slums on the Night of the Witches, making contact with the out-of-control Ruth. Over twenty people have been slandered so far, and the number keeps growing."
"I ran some statistics—a significant portion of these targets have... history with Xanathar’s Guild."
Charles’ expression shifted immediately.
"Where are these rumors coming from?" he pressed.
Andny, however, could only offer helplessness. "Unclear. I didn’t pay attention at first, but over the last two days, they’ve grown too outrageous to ignore. That’s when I realized someone’s orchestrating this."
"Is Alan stirring the pot?"
"No, Master. I’ve had mosquitos tailing him in the taverns. He’s only spreading what we instructed—that Xanathar’s Guild is using the investigation team as pawns."
Charles’ brow furrowed.
Hiss. Strange. This situation... is someone secretly aiding me?
Or are they deliberately sabotaging the investigation team, delaying their progress to ensure they return empty-handed?
Or is this a move against Xanathar’s Guild, redirecting the investigation team’s fury toward them?
Which possibility is it?
If the first—what connections do I have that would prompt someone to help me?
If the second—the scope of suspicion widens dramatically. Could even be the investigation team captain’s political rivals. Nothing to do with me.
And if the third... Xanathar’s Guild has no shortage of enemies. But recently...
And this tactic—flooding the field with disinformation to obscure the truth...
Is this the Zhentarim muddying the waters?
They certainly have the means. And the motive—retaliation against Xanathar’s Guild...
Shaking his head, Charles forced down the whirl of speculation. "Andny, keep investigating. Report any new findings immediately."
"Tomorrow’s plan remains unchanged. I’m still going to the Central District to secure that investment. Then we’ll discuss our next move in the slums!"
Meanwhile, deep within the slums...
In one of the ramshackle houses, a statuesque maiden with golden hair and piercing blue eyes stood clad in gleaming plate armor, her sword and shield at the ready. As she listened to her subordinate’s report, her perfect teeth ground together in frustration. "Why would these wretched peasants lie to us?!"
"Don’t they understand we’re investigating these monsters and cultists for their own protection?!"
The maiden was Anno Amcastra, scion of a noble family from Liberl Port and devout follower of Tyr, the God of Justice. From childhood, she’d displayed exceptional martial talent, leading her family to hire specialized combat tutors.
At fourteen, she’d been kidnapped by devil-worshiping tieflings. In that desperate moment, she’d sworn an oath to the world: "I shall avenge all the weak against evil." Becoming an Oath of Vengeance paladin, she’d cut down her cultist captors like wheat before the scythe, dragging her wounded body home alone to become legend.
This feat earned her a place in Force Grey, the secret operations branch under Blackstaff Tower. After rigorous trials, she’d been promoted to captain just before the Night of the Witches, now commanding fifteen elite warriors handpicked from guard forces across the administrative regions.
This mission to South Harbor District - investigating monsters and cultist activity - was her first assignment as captain. Burning with righteous fervor, she’d endured the district’s filth and stench, confident her team would cut through the mystery like a hot blade through butter.
Instead, she met constant setbacks.
Every slum dweller she questioned would cower meekly, either claiming ignorance with excuses like "I was terrified," "I don’t know anything," or "I’ve got fishing to do," or else offering useless, vague responses filled with "maybe" and "possibly" - none of it actionable intelligence.
After days of investigation, her only solid lead was about "a handsome silver kin boy who uses magic." But further probing revealed even this was a Xanathar’s Guild smokescreen - using her team as attack dogs against their enemies!
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