The news of Bog Nesson’s wife’s passing took Brand by surprise. He had hoped that the will left by this small nobleman might bring him some unexpected income—considering how some noble families in Erune have long and illustrious histories, it was possible that Bog Nesson’s ancestors were once prominent. It wouldn’t be surprising if the inheritance turned out to be a fortune.
Moreover, Brand thought that if that weren’t the case, the will wouldn’t have specifically mentioned it.
However, as Limp Ron said, the only hope now resided with the nobleman’s still-living daughter.
Limp Ron informed them that the nobleman’s daughter was named Antitina, and rumors had it she lived alone in Grey Squirrel Street in the Saint Anthony District, right next to Black Pepper Alley. She had been living a secluded life for years, rarely showing herself to outsiders. Although it was strange for a delicate woman to live alone, she was, after all, of noble descent. In the strictly hierarchical society of Erune, commoners wouldn’t dare to take liberties with her.
Besides, such noble daughters were not uncommon in Brags, especially for someone like Limp Ron, who made a living selling information—most of the stories he spread were at least eighty percent credible.
Brand analyzed and concluded that Limp Ron’s information might not be entirely false.
Of course, it was said that more people in Brags had been fooled by Limp Ron than there were rats in Black Pepper Alley, leading to frequent inn gossip claiming that Limp Ron even dared to deceive giant dragons and wizards, proving his lawlessness. The young man was aware of this and thus decided to press his gleaming treasure sword against the bald man’s neck, forcing the cunning old fox to lead the way personally.
After Red Beard Batom disciplined a few of Limp Ron’s idle youths, they finally realized that these two were no ordinary men, and they quietly let the three leave Limp Ron’s lair unimpeded.
By the time the three reached Grey Squirrel Street, it was already near dusk.
The bronzed sunlight, surpassing one side of the old street’s buildings, cast deep shadows on the other side of the rows of wooden structures. With no one to light the oil lamps by the roadside, the entire street was enveloped in silent darkness. Brand walked through the desolate streets, his cloak sweeping up a gentle breeze that scattered the fallen leaves.
He couldn’t help but look back.
Batom, witnessing this eerie scene, furrowed his brows and tugged at his fiery red beard, cursing, "It wasn’t when I came here a few years ago."
Grey Squirrel Street was located near Cavalry Avenue in today’s Saint Anthony District, the old site of the Noble Council. Once Brags’ prosperous old city, the area used to be a wealthy neighborhood where nobles resided. But after the city’s last re-planning, it had quieted down, now indistinguishable from Black Pepper Alley, equally secluded and perhaps even more desolate.
At least this place didn’t entertain mercenaries, adventurers, or prostitutes like the latter.
However, it wasn’t completely deserted.
Breathing in the dust-filled air, Brand suddenly remembered something and said, "I guess it’s because of the Underground Cemetery."
"Exactly." Limp Ron smiled with a stutter, the cold edge of the sword making his neck chilled, "Lord, you might not know the local situation as we do. Two years ago, something strange happened in the Underground Cemetery. A group of Haver Sect monks and Saints who routinely cleaned the graves mysteriously disappeared. Since it involved two high-level monks and a priest, the matter caused quite a stir in Brags."
"And then? The Holy Temple didn’t go after Najin, that old guy, for this?" Batom asked.
"Of course not. The Count, pressured by the Holy Temple, urged the Silver Wing Cavalry to send a squad to search. However, they were attacked by monsters and only one person came out, mentally deranged," Limp Ron replied.
"To hell with it." Batom muttered.
The three conversed as Limp Ron led them up a dark staircase into an old apartment. This three-story wooden building seemed to be suffering from severe asthma, creaking underfoot as if the whole structure was shivering and about to collapse.