Chapter 30: Royal Bank
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Raven said, lifting the Gladstone bag from the seat.
“I’ll be off then, Mr. Jose. Thanks for the help.” He gave a polite bow.
“It’s nothing much—just doing my job,” Jose waved. “But… if you reclaim your family honor soday, do a favor, lad.”
“Reclaim my family honor?” Raven frowned.
“Your wine factory,” Jose clarified, leaning back. “I can tell by your deanor… you’re a peak-rank Official Walker. A seventeen-year-old Peak Rank Official Walker? That’s the birth of a genius. When soone like you arises in a noble household, it transforms everything. That household will rise again.”
[He’s sharp, like a born rchant. Get him on your side, lad,] Zera noted in Raven’s mind.
Raven t Jose’s gaze. “So, what’s the favor?”
“Kyler,” Jose said. “He’s been a head constable for over twenty years, accomplished much, yet hasn’t risen in rank due to corruption. When you stabilize, help him move up.”
Raven smirked, reading the gamble. “Nothing cos free in this world, sir. What do you want in return?”
Jose raised an eyebrow.
“I need a lot of helping hands, Mr. Jose. When I reclaim my territory, quit this job and work for . I’ll pay double.”
Jose laughed, a deep, rumbling sound. “Hahaha. Reclaim your territory, huh? Never knew you had such fantasies, kid. I’ll do it if you make it possible.”
Raven nodded, smiling. “Don’t forget your promise.” He turned and left.
Jose shook his head, chuckling. “Azmar Town, huh? This kid has no idea Falcons are already eyeing that place.”
…
Raven left the guild and went to the Giaris Employnt Office on the sa street. After spending ten gold coins, a notice for hiring servants was posted. With that done, he headed toward the Zenith Royal Bank, just two streets away.
The bank was an opulent structure of polished white marble. Large arched windows held intricate stained glass, and a towering clock watched over the entrance. Corinthian columns flanked heavy wooden doors with ornate brass handles. Liveried footn stood at attention, immaculately dressed.
Inside, a vast lobby glimred with chandeliers. Polished marble reflected the light. Rows of clerks handled transactions with calm efficiency. Paintings of forr directors lined the walls, their stern gazes following every move. A massive oil painting of a two-headed serpent dominated one wall.
Raven approached a clerk, a middle-aged man with a neatly trimd mustache and sharp eyes.
“Good day, sir. How may I assist you?” the clerk asked.
“I need access to the Hols family vault.” Raven placed his birth certificate, Council mbership Card, and Order of Precedence on the counter.
“Hols Family?” The clerk’s eyes widened. He examined the docunts carefully.
“Thomas Hols, born 15.05.1404, Giaris Elite Public Hospital, son of Walter and Dorthey Hols…” The clerk checked each detail, then cross-referenced a large ledger. Satisfied, he nodded.
“The Order of Precedence wasn’t renewed after Sir Walter Hols’ death. Please wait while I update the records.” He vanished upstairs via a spiral staircase.
An hour later, the clerk returned, handing Raven a new docunt and an iron key. “Sign here, and I’ll have soone escort you to the vault.”
Raven signed. A bank guard stepped forward, bowing. “Please follow , sir.”
The corridor was dim, lined with reinforced doors for noble families’ vaults. Echoes of footsteps reverberated as they walked.
Finally, they reached a heavy steel door. The guard turned the key; the lock clicked. Inside, rows of safety deposit boxes and a central safe awaited.
Raven inserted his key into the family vault. Inside were stacks of gold coins, fifty-plus platinum coins in a small wooden box, neatly bundled docunts, and ornate trinket boxes.
“I’ll take the platinum coins and the Will,” he told the guard, collecting the items carefully.
The vault was locked, and they returned to the counter. The clerk recorded the transaction, quill scratching efficiently.
“Everything seems in order, Young Master Hols. Need anything else?”
Raven shook his head, tucking the small wooden box securely into his Gladstone bag. “No, thank you.”
…
Stepping into the bustling streets of Giaris City, Raven considered his next move. Sunlight ward the cobblestones, vendors shouted, and carriages rattled by.
“What should I do next?” he muttered.
[Change your identity and dispose of Thomas’ original body,] Zera advised calmly.
“Again?” Raven frowned. Changing his face using the spell model from Aron and Thomas wasn’t hard, but he hesitated.
[Many are watching you. Every second. Reports are being sent up the chain.]
Raven’s mind raced. The Vice Leader of the Gold Thieves acted alone… or did she? She’s connected to the Vipers. Falcons too… Count Andres might be involved.
[Think logically. He wouldn’t act just for your money. If Thomas had died, he would have gained control over the wine factory and Azmar Town.]
Raven’s eyes flicked around cautiously. A completely enclosed Hackney carriage waited nearby. He approached.
“Afternoon, sir. Where to?” the driver asked, tipping his hat.
“Southward.” Raven climbed in, settling into the seat. As the door closed, he leaned back and touched his face. Monts later, it began shifting back to his original appearance.
He peered through the small carriage window. The Southward Borough lood ahead—ti to make his move before anyone traced him.
“I should leave stealthily,” he muttered.
From his inventory, he pulled out a pair of boots, noticing faint bloodstains on the tips. He grabbed his monocle, scanning the carriage interior. A ragged cloth lay on the seat across from him. Carefully, he wiped the boots clean, slipped them on, then wrapped three silver coins in the blood-stained cloth, leaving them neatly on the seat.
[The coachman will freak out when he sees this,] Zera comnted dryly.
“I have no choice,” Raven muttered.
He eased the carriage door open, pausing to ensure no other vehicles were nearby. Once the coast was clear, he activated Shadow Stealth and leapt onto the cobblestones with a silent thud. The carriage jolted slightly, but the coachman dismissed it as a bump in the road.
Raven lted into the shadows, erging seconds later to blend seamlessly with the bustling crowd. His senses, honed to near-photographic precision, picked out every detail of his surroundings.
First, dispose of Thomas’s body… he thought. Then gather information and make preparations.
He wandered the streets, purchasing a shovel from a weapons shop and a flower garland from a florist. Everything went into his inventory along with the Gladstone bag. Hours of observation passed as he surveyed potential carriages. Finally, a suitable one appeared—a dark wood carriage of elegant simplicity, its driver a grizzled man with a salt-and-pepper beard.
A young lady stood beside the carriage door, conversing with him. She looked about his age, with cascading blonde curls and amber eyes that glimred in the afternoon light.
“Excuse ,” Raven called softly, approaching the man. “Are you two heading toward Claw Ville?”
The driver squinted. “Aye, I am. Need a ride?”
“If it’s no trouble,” Raven said, smiling. “I can pay handsoly.”
The driver shrugged. “Coin’s always welco. Hop in.”
“And your passenger?” Raven asked.
“She’s not a custor,” the driver replied.
“I’m Rebecca,” the girl said, her face lightly flushed. “I don’t mind traveling with you.”
“Don’t fall for her fake blushing, lad. That one’s a vixen, just like her mother,” the driver teased.
“Dad!” Rebecca shot him an exasperated glare.
Raven stepped inside, settling on a worn leather seat opposite her. The coachman started the horses, and Rebecca’s curiosity ca alive.
“So, Raven,” she began, “what brings you to Claw Ville? It’s a tiny village.”
“I’m scouting for land outside the city,” Raven replied smoothly. “A noble employer of mine wants a retreat—a resort or sothing near a river or a high vantage point.”
Rebecca’s eyes sparkled. “Frostvale River might suit you. Surrounded by Ashenvale forests, flowers bloom in every color co spring. Legends say water spirits guard its beauty. But it’s isolated—even the villa guards avoid it at night. Crocodiles and giant pythons roam the area.”
“That’s fine,” Raven said. “I’ll visit and see for myself.”
Curious, he asked about her. “And you? Do you work?”
“I’m a seamstress,” Rebecca said. “I quit knight training for lack of funds. I buy unshaped garnts, design them, and sew with guidance from my neighborhood aunt. I earn about 20–30 silver coins a month, but with my father’s inco and taxes, our twelve-mber family barely survives.”
Raven absorbed the details quietly, impressed.
“My employer is also hiring servants. You could try,” he offered.
Rebecca’s eyes widened. “Really? But I’m not educated or trained in noble etiquette.”
“You can start as an apprentice maid,” Raven suggested. “Learn on the job. I’ll inform my employer and recomnd you.”
Her eyes shimred with gratitude. “You’re so generous, even though we just t.”
Raven smiled. “I’ll talk to my employer; you decide after that.”
The carriage clattered along, the city fading behind them. As Claw Ville approached, Raven asked the driver to stop.
“I’ll walk from here,” he said, handing three silver coins for the ride. “If you need help, co to 21A Bristol Street—ask for Thomas.”
Rebecca nodded politely. “It was nice eting you, Mr. Raven. Safe travels.”
The carriage disappeared down the tree-lined path, leaving Raven staring at the stars overhead.
[Find Frostvale River and dispose of Thomas’s body. Crocodiles will ensure no traces remain.]
“I’d rather bury him properly,” Raven murmured.
[That risks leaving evidence. Your best bet is the deepest Ashenvale woods.]
After speaking with Rebecca, Raven knew the area well enough to plan his next steps.
[That girl… extraordinary potential. A future Dark Wizard.]
Raven frowned. “Dark Wizard? And how rare is a Genius-rank affinity?”
[Dark Wizards specialize in curses, shadows, and summoning. Most humans have Low or Interdiate affinities—Interdiate appears in one of a hundred. High-rank: one in ten thousand. Extraordinary: one in a million. Genius rank? Only one in ten million.]
Raven processed the numbers. So few… and Rebecca might be one of them.
[Exactly. Before anyone notices her potential, make her your subordinate.]
Raven smiled, thinking of the address he’d given her. “She’ll co.”
[She will. Desperate to find work, she’ll seek you out.]
Raven set off toward Ashenvale, ready to begin the next stage of his plan.
Thanks to Night Vision, he navigated the snow-covered Ashenvale Forest with ease. Wolves and goblins lurked, but none posed a threat to him. After more than two hours of trekking, he found the perfect spot: a tall oak surrounded by thorny, leafless plants.
He cleared the snow, dug a six-foot grave, and waited until dawn. Then, he retrieved Thomas’s corpse from his inventory, removed the clothes and belongings, and placed the body near the grave.
As he shoveled soil over the corpse, Raven began a solemn prayer:
"Beloved spirits, guardians of the Eclipse land, we gather here under the watchful eyes of the stars to honor the dead, who have journeyed beyond the mortal veil.
We call upon the Four Winds, the Earth Mother, the Celestial Waters, and the Rebirth Fla to guide and protect him on his passage to the next life.
O Spirits of the Beyond, hear our call. Grant him peace and safe passage through the celestial realms.
In the East, where the sun rises, we ask for clarity and wisdom to light his path.
May the dawn's light guide him.
In the South, where the Rebirth fires burn bright, we seek the warmth of love and the courage to embrace his soul.
May the fire's warmth comfort him.
In the West, where the Celestial waters flow, we pray for the cleansing and renewal of his spirit.
May the water's purity cleanse him.
In the North, where the Earth stands firm, we hope for strength and protection for him on his journey.
May Mother Earth's strength support him.
O Mother Twilight, Keeper of Souls, we entrust the dead into your care.
May he find rest among the stars, his spirit and heart at peace.
We release him into the arms of eternity. May he soar higher and dance with the stars.
Until we et beyond the stars."
After the ritualistic chant, Raven placed the flower garland near the grave and clapped his hands before bowing his head towards it.
After that, he quietly walked away from there.
…
Raven didn’t linger in Ashenvale. He returned to Claw Ville, t Rebecca’s father, and secured transport back to Giaris City. The carriage ride was uneventful; the rhythmic clatter of wheels was hypnotic. By the ti they reached the Southward Borough, the morning sun bathed the city in orange light, lting patches of snow along the roads.
“Where shall I drop you, boy?” Rebecca’s father asked.
“Near Salford, sir,” Raven replied.
Minutes later, the carriage halted. Raven thanked the man, stepped down, and activated Shadow Stealth, disappearing into the alleyway.
…
Bristol Street, Salford Borough. 8:00 A.M.
A black-haired boy, around sixteen, approached a two-story mansion. His azure eyes scanned the compound, monocle perched over his left eye. He wore a black frock coat, white shirt, black pants, ribbon tie, bowler hat, and carried his Gladstone bag.
A man in a dark green uniform stepped forward.
“This area is off-limits, boy.”
Raven frowned.
‘A local guard? I thought he was a policeman.’
“Who are you to block the way to my house?” Raven asked coldly.
A sudden realization appeared on the guard’s face.
“I didn’t ask for protection. Why are you here?” He questioned further.
The guard hesitated. “Lord Count assigned after you went missing, Young Master Thomas. I’ve been guarding the mansion.”
Raven noted the guard’s identity with the monocle.
‘More likely, the count put a guard here for a show.’
“Your duty is complete. Return to the Count and tell him I’m grateful,” Raven said, walking past and unlocking the gate.
The garden lay ahead, partially covered in snow. Wildflowers pushed through the frost, stubborn and colorful.
What a grand sight.
The mansion lood before him: steep roofs, ornate gables, deep-red bricks weathered by ti. Tall windows with faded curtains, so decorated with tal patterns, reflected the morning sun like fractured diamonds.
“This mansion is worth over ten thousand gold coins,” he muttered, approaching the heavy oak door. Stained glass inset and a brass lion-head knocker adorned the entrance. Vines crawled up the walls, stretching toward the sky.
Inside, the lobby slled of dust, aged wood, and faint floral notes. Sunlight filtered through the glass, splashing colors across the marble floor. A grand chandelier hung overhead, though so bulbs were dead.
A curved staircase spiraled upward. Rooms branched to either side: kitchen, dining, butler’s pantry, guest suite to the left; living room, library, drawing room, office, laundry to the right.
‘The mansion is massive.’ Muttering, he moved to the laundry room.
Raven retrieved items from his inventory in the laundry room and washed them. Then, he rested briefly on the living room sofa.
A bell chid from the foyer. Raven stood and opened the door to find two visitors: a tall middle-aged man with a rough square face and black eyes, dressed in a charcoal morning coat, and a blonde woman in her thirties with erald eyes and olive skin, dressed formally.
“Jacob?” Raven asked.
“Oh, have we t, Young Master?” the man replied, surprised.
“No, but I expected your arrival,” Raven said, smiling, then turned to the woman.
She bowed. “Greetings, Young Master Thomas. I’m Quincy, vice leader of the Sepoy rcenary.”
“Welco, Lady Quincy. Please, co in,” Raven said, leading them to the living room.
He gestured to the empty mansion. “There are no servants yet, but I’ll hire so soon.”
Jacob waved. “I heard you were kidnapped and tortured. How are you feeling?”
“mory loss spared from much of the trauma. ntally and physically, I’ve recovered,” Raven replied.
“But the reason I’m considering hiring the Sepoy—”
“You won’t need to worry about safety, Young Master,” Quincy interrupted, smiling. “Most of our mbers are Radiant Rank Walkers; our leader is on par with an Expert Rank Walker. But long-term hiring costs around 800 gold coins per month. Can you afford it?”
Multiple Radiant Walkers… overkill for protection. Perfect for reclaiming Azmar territory, Raven mused. He snapped his fingers, and a leather pouch appeared on the table.
Jacob’s eyes widened. A spatial artifact? But no elental fluctuations… it must be a spell from himself.
“Are you a Wizard?” Jacob asked, frozen.
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