Chapter 163 Military Control

Just as Byrne had predicted, the following day at noon, Powell arrived at the headquarters of the chamber of commerce with a squad of city guards.

Although Powell had tried his best to conceal it, the scars on his face and his awkward gait still revealed that he had suffered significant physical trauma.

"Mr. Powell, what happened to you?"

Rayman asked with a look of deep concern, his attitude a complete contrast to the disdain he had shown yesterday.

"N—nothing, well... I had a bit too much to drink yesterday out of excitement and took a fall."

Powell touched the wounds on his face, speaking haltingly, but the subtle trace of unease in the depths of his eyes did not escape Rayman's notice.

"Mr. Powell, perhaps you would like to try our new product."

With that, Rayman pulled a glass vial filled with a red liquid from inside his tunic.

"Oh? What is this?"

"This is called Red Potion!"

Rayman explained, "Of course, it was also named by our boss. You can try it, the results are quite good."

Rayman had long since given up on complaining about their boss's eccentric naming conventions.

Powell was somewhat skeptical, but he uncapped the vial and drank it down. Well, the taste wasn't half bad, somewhat similar to the holy water he had consumed in the past.

"Oh?"

Soon, he felt a warm current flowing from his stomach out to his limbs. Everywhere it passed felt wonderfully soothing, and his wounds began to slowly heal.

Powell patted himself all over. He was healed; the injuries from yesterday were completely gone.

"It seems the effect is quite good."

Rayman smiled faintly.

"Was that holy water just now?"

Powell reacted immediately. Only holy water crafted by high-tier priests possessed such efficacy, and its price was naturally exorbitant—especially now, when prices had risen to ridiculous heights, Powell had never even been willing to squander it on himself.

"It is Red Potion, though it certainly contains some components of holy water."

Rayman explained patiently.

Powell's mouth opened, but he forced himself to hold back and asked no further. Having reached his current position, he knew very well what should be asked and what should not.

Shortly after, Rayman took out a few more vials and handed them to Powell as a gift. "These are the new products of the Rayman Chamber of Commerce. Any of our VIP clients can enjoy complimentary new product trial events."

Powell's eyes lit up, and the lingering trace of displeasure in his heart vanished completely. Though he had taken a sound beating, it was well worth it!

The subsequent procedures were much simpler. The two of them signed the contract amidst pleasant conversation.

At that moment, a rare azure falcon soared into the distant sky, and Rayman looked toward it as if moved by a sudden premonition.

Once the signatures were finalized, Powell began directing his men to carry down the chests filled with gold coins, paying the full sum on the spot.

Holding the contract, Rayman smiled and watched the city guards depart, his expression gradually returning to a calm composure.

***

In the northern district of Sevington, inside an aristocratic conference room.

The door was pushed open from the outside, and a guard hurried in, leaning over to whisper a few words into the ear of an elderly man.

The elderly man nodded, waving a hand to signal the guard to leave.

As the door clicked shut once more, the elderly man said, "The prey has entered the net."

"Then let us begin drawing the cords..."

Another voice replied. Vaguely, one could make out quite a few other people seated around the table, the patterns and crests on their rings, collars, and armbands all entirely distinct from one another.

Clang!

Clang!

...

The bells of Gilles Academy resounded across the entirety of Sevington. Aside from the start of the academic year, whenever the bells of Gilles Academy rang at any other time, it signified entirely different implications.

And this was by no means the beginning of the term at Gilles Academy.

At that moment, everyone dropped whatever task was in their hands, quietly counting the tolls in their hearts.

Twelve strikes!

The last time it had rung twelve times seemed to be over a hundred years ago, representing that the entirety of Sevington was entering a state of martial law.

Sevington was entering a comprehensive wartime phase!

People on the streets hurried back to their homes, bolting their doors and drawing their shutters. Street vendors, peddlers, and even thugs and ruffians hurriedly sought places to hide. The previously bustling neighborhoods emptied out entirely within a remarkably short span of time.

"So this is their plan? Such a clumsy and shameless pretext."

Standing at the highest point of the alchemy workshop, Byrne narrowed his eyes and said indifferently.

"Borrowing the excuse of martial law to temporarily requisition various facilities throughout the city—whoever came up with this trick is quite insidious."

Hosein glanced at Byrne, a hint of schadenfreude in his tone.

The elven elder did not speak, merely letting out a silent sigh and gently shaking his head.

From this vantage point, one could clearly see numerous guards and cavalrymen rapidly converging on the Rayman Chamber of Commerce headquarters within a radius of two or three kilometers centered around the alchemy workshop, with quite a few spellcasters taking to the air to maintain order.

As the bell tolls ceased, a middle-aged spellcaster descended from the sky, landing right in front of Rayman.

A high-tier spellcaster?

Rayman's pupils constricted slightly; the powerful aura and oppressive presence allowed him to immediately gauge the tier of the spellcaster before him.

"You must be the president of the Rayman Chamber of Commerce?!"

The spellcaster was a middle-aged man who phrased his sentence as a question, yet his tone was absolute, suggesting he was quite familiar with Rayman.

"And you are?"

Rayman was certain he did not recognize the man standing before him.

"Gallup, my name is Gallup Keenan, responsible for coordinating and commanding the combat operations of the mages."

Gallup said indifferently.

Keenan? One of the Seven Great Families of Netheril?

Rayman's expression shifted. He drew a deep breath and offered a slight bow. "Lord Gallup, is there anything I can assist you with?"

"You don't need to assist me; just call your people out. This place has been requisitioned by us."

Gallup's face was expressionless. He then produced a scroll and pushed it toward Rayman. "According to wartime operational regulations, we are temporarily requisitioning all equipment and supplies of your chamber of commerce. From this moment onward, everything here will be temporarily managed by us."

"Now, I give you five rounds of spellcasting time to notify your people. After five rounds, if anyone remains, we will arrest them in accordance with wartime laws for the crime of obstructing military operations, or execute them on the spot!"

Gallup flashed a grin. A chill pierced through Rayman's heart as Gallup stepped past him and strode directly into the interior.

"Wait a moment!"

Rayman called out.

"Oh?"

Gallup paused in his stride, turned his head to glare at Rayman, and instantly unleashed his high-tier life pressure.

Rayman felt as though he had been targeted by some terrifying predatory beast.

So strong!

Rayman swallowed hard with great difficulty.

"As a lawful citizen of Netheril, it is only right to cooperate in enforcing wartime regulations. However, might I ask your lordship to issue us a requisition certificate? That way, even if there are losses after the war, we might obtain some compensation."

"A requisition certificate?"

Gallup narrowed his eyes, a look of mockery crossing his face. "We are fighting on the front lines—whose protection do you think we are providing? You want compensation just for the temporary use of a venue?"

The "requisition certificate" was a legal statute temporarily added during the defense of Sevington over a century ago, specifically because numerous individuals had previously used public authority for private gain, causing disastrous repercussions.

"According to the Wartime Requisition and Control Regulations, Article 48, Paragraph 2, military requisition is a compensated requisition!"

Rayman shouted aloud. As more and more guards and attendants gathered around, numerous onlookers began to cast their gazes in this direction.

"This does not mean compensation must be rendered at the exact moment the military requisition is executed. When compensation cannot be granted on the spot, the unit executing the military requisition shall issue a requisition certificate to the requisitioned party on the spot, to be compensated at a later possible date. The amount of compensation shall be limited solely to the direct economic losses suffered by the requisitioned party as a result of the military requisition."

Gallup's complexion turned somewhat unsightly, yet Rayman met his gaze without the slightest trace of fear.

"Study the code of laws, live according to the code, and follow every single word of it, for within the knowledge of intricate laws lies the freedom that allows you to act rightly and without punishment..."

Rayman loudly recited the doctrine of the temple, leaving Gallup momentarily caught in a dilemma between advancing and retreating.

"To think Gallup would actually hit a wall."

The captain of a knight squad joked quietly.

"Too impatient. Even a cornered rabbit will bite."

The deputy guard beside him wore a mocking expression.

...

The bystanders began to murmur among themselves, though none of them had any intention of stepping forward to help Gallup; they simply watched the spectacle unfold.

With Sevington entering a state of war, the guards were mostly soldiers or knights belonging to various noble households, and selecting a leader to command them afterwards meant the overall situation was no better than a tray of loose sand.

A mere mid-tier mage had used the temple code to block him, irritating Gallup greatly. In particular, the crowd of spectators waiting to see a good show made it even harder for him to save face.

"Vile commoner, it is your absolute honor that your territory is being requisitioned, yet you yammer on and demand a requisition certificate."

The more Gallup thought about it, the angrier he grew. He glared unpleasantly at Rayman and shouted loudly, "Step aside, or I will execute you on the spot for the crime of refusing military requisition!"

Immediately, a fireball materialized in his hand, the threat hanging heavy in the air.

"This is bad!"

"What an idiot..."

The faces of the onlookers watching the fun also changed instantly.

Requisitioning property was one thing, but killing someone meant the matter could no longer be settled amicably.

...

Gallup felt a mounting fury. If not for the last shred of reason keeping him in check, he would have loved to execute the obstructive fellow right then and there.

"That idiot, how did he ever become a high-tier mage?"

Up on the high platform, Hosein looked at Gallup in astonishment.

Hosein did not know much about Gallup, only that the fellow had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, enjoyed the finest education and resources, and had advanced to a high-tier spellcaster several years prior while also remaining a mid-tier arcanist.

He was the absolute template of a life-winner—though Hosein would certainly never admit that he was just sour grapes.

Byrne was likewise astonished. He had originally intended only to temper Rayman, never expecting that he would accidentally provoke a high-tier spellcaster so easily.

A mage was supposed to be synonymous with command and rationality. It was understandable for a beginner or mid-tier mage to be swayed by emotion, but for a high-tier spellcaster to be provoked to such a degree by a mid-tier mage could easily be counted as one of the most ludicrous events of the year.

"No."

The elven elder sensed that something seemed amiss with the man, yet he could not quite pinpoint where the problem lay, as his heart of nature detected no aura of evil.

Byrne also sensed that something was off. Why would they dispatch someone so foolish? This man's mental state was clearly abnormal.

With a flash, Byrne vanished from where he stood.