Chapter 169: Sharing The Spoils

  The enforcement office was a bustling place, filled with the hum of quiet discussions, the clatter of equipment, and the occasional shuffle of parchment.

  The scent of burnt wax and old paper lingered in the air, mingling with the faint traces of polished steel and the ever-present musk of hard labor.

  The walls, lined with log books and maps, detailed patrol routes, and potential problem areas—clear evidence that Reinhart’s security had become more structured under Burt’s leadership.

  At the center of the room, Abel stood across from Burt, the seasoned officer leaning over his desk, his muscular arms crossed. His bracer gleamed in the dim lamplight as he nodded, listening intently.

  “The teams are settling into their roles well,” Burt said, a hint of pride in his voice.

  “Jet and the new Lieutenant, Samir, are adapting quickly. Each Lieutenant is now leading a team of five, covering different parts of the town in shifts. We’ve got eyes on First Street, Fifth, and the expanded towards the new roads leading to the outskirts. The townsfolk… they’re feeling safer.”

  Abel nodded, pleased. “And their awareness of magic?”

  Burt let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. “More than I expected. A year ago, most of us thought magic was just some distant thing—something only nobles or strange folk dealt with. Now? Even the new recruits are learning about it. That’s thanks to you, we can relay the teachings to the new generation of officers.”

  Abel gave a small smile, but Burt wasn’t finished. His expression turned serious, his voice dropping slightly. “But truth be told, we’re going to hit a limit soon.”

  Abel arched a brow. “Oh?”

  Burt exhaled. “We can train all we want, but at the end of the day, magic is magic. If we want to keep up with Pseudos, and whatever else is out there, we need artifacts. And we don’t have enough of them to keep promoting officers.”

  Abel’s smirk widened. “Well… that’s why I’m here.”

  He reached into his robe, and in an instant, he began pulling out artifacts, one by one, placing them on Burt’s desk like a merchant unveiling rare treasures.

  First, a red wand, its surface smooth and slightly warm to the touch. "This one casts a fireball spell. Basic, but effective. Give it to someone with a steady hand.”

  Then, a ring that pulsed with a deep green energy, causing the air around it to shift slightly. “This one enhances physical strength. Perfect for an officer who favors hand-to-hand combat.”

  Next, an old fork—but as Abel activated it, the utensil twisted and elongated, forming into a well-balanced sai. “Don’t let its looks fool you. This one increases agility and speed. Good for someone who relies on mobility.”

  Burt’s eyes gleamed as he watched the items pile up one by one. He barely had time to comment before Abel reached in once more and pulled out a familiar glove—Lena’s old artifact.

  “She doesn’t need this anymore,” Abel said. “Her abilities are… beyond the glove now, and its power with her would be considered redundant. Find someone who can make use of it.”

  Burt took it, nodding.

  But Abel wasn’t done.

  He reached in one last time and pulled out a belt, the buckle intricately carved with flowing engravings. “This one is special,” he said, spinning it between his fingers before handing it over. “Increases senses and reflexes—but that’s not all.”

  He gestured for Burt to try it on.

  The officer fastened the belt around his waist, and within moments, a long, segmented tail unfurled from the back, its movements eerily precise. Burt let out a low whistle, twisting his body to test it. The tail responded instantly, slicing through the air with a razor-sharp tip.

  “This’ll take some getting used to…” Burt muttered, but there was excitement in his tone.

  Abel crossed his arms. “You’ll manage. But be careful.” His expression darkened slightly. “Artifacts aren’t toys. You know as well as I do—if your Lieutenants push beyond their limits, there will be… consequences.”

  Burt nodded solemnly. “I won’t let them overreach.”

  For a moment, there was silence. The weight of their responsibilities hung in the air.

  Then, Burt exhaled, shaking his head with a smirk. “Damn, Abel. You really came prepared, huh?”

  Abel chuckled. “I like the town protected.”

  The conversation shifted after that, moving toward security updates.

  “The surrounding areas are still quiet,” Burt admitted. “Too quiet, if you ask me. We’ve been keeping tabs, but something about this peace doesn’t sit right.”

  Abel’s gaze narrowed slightly. “What about the Bario family?”

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Burt’s expression darkened. “No movements yet, but they’re watching. We’re certain of that much.”

  Abel hummed in thought.

  Abel finally pushed himself off the desk, rolling his shoulders. “Keep an eye on them. And keep your men sharp, Also make sure a lieutenant is near Elliot at all costs, I feel that people are plotting.”

  Burt grinned. “Oh, don’t worry. We’re just getting started.”

  With that, they parted ways, both men fully aware that Reinhart’s real battles hadn’t even begun yet.

  As Abel approached the Starry Villa, the soft glow of lanterns illuminated the estate’s ornate stone walls and polished wooden gates. He hummed to himself deep in thought.

  Hum… Hum Hum Hum… Hum…

  The night air carried a crisp chill, the scent of damp earth and distant bonfires drifting through the quiet streets. However, what caught his attention first was the carriage parked outside his estate, the unmistakable crest of the Fuzon family emblazoned on its side.

  Standing beside it was a nervous-looking assistant, bundled in a fine cloak embroidered with the deep emerald hues of the Fuzon household.

  The young man shifted eagerly as soon as he spotted Abel, his face lighting up in relief and excitement.

  “Sir Abel!” the assistant greeted, stepping forward. “Sir Elliot wanted to send you something, a gift as per your agreement.”

  Abel raised a brow. A gift? He hadn’t expected anything of the sort.

  The assistant turned to the carriage and strained as he reached inside, pulling out a massive, thick book, the sheer weight of it causing his arms to tremble. He took a staggering step forward, his knees nearly buckling.

  Abel effortlessly took it from him with one hand, the weight barely registering in his grip. The assistant let out a breath of relief, rubbing his sore arms before grinning. “Master Elliot said you’d be interested in this.”

  Abel glanced down at the aged cover, its leather surface worn and cracked with time. The title, "The Notes of a Skeptic," was embossed in faded silver lettering, the script giving off a peculiar sense of weight as if the words themselves carried some unseen force.

  A book? He had expected gold, artifacts, or even rare materials—but this? Abel’s brow furrowed in curiosity. What does skepticism have to do with magic?

  He nodded, tucking the massive tome into his robe’s internal storage, before looking back at the assistant. “Tell Elliot that I’ve already handed out the items to Burt.”

  The assistant gave a formal bow. “Understood, my lord. I shall relay the message.”

  With that, the carriage wheels creaked as it began its departure, vanishing into the evening mist toward the mayor’s estate.

  Abel turned toward his villa gates, where Rian, one of his estate guards, stood at attention. With a silent nod, the gate was opened for him, and he stepped inside.

  The warmth of the estate embraced him, the interior exuding a comforting mix of fresh wood, candle wax, and the faint scent of herbs from the kitchen.

  As he walked in, he barely took notice of his surroundings—until Lena’s voice called out from the side of the room.

  “That was strange,” she murmured.

  Abel turned toward her, confused, realizing she was there for the first time. “What was?”

  Lena’s golden feline eyes narrowed, her brows knitting together in concern. “When you walked in just now, you turned to the wall next to the door…” She hesitated, as if piecing her words together carefully. “And you bowed to the weird painting there.”

  Abel froze.

  His pulse quickened as his eyes flickered toward the wall she mentioned. His stomach twisted when he saw it.

  A painting hung there, one he knew for a fact he had never put up.

  The painting from the Murman estate.

  The same eerie, indescribable piece that had shown him the vision of the eldritch entity, the tentacles wrapped around the universe, the colors that felt alive, the strange white figure.

  His breath hitched. When had he placed it there?

  “I… don’t remember putting it up,” he admitted, a rare moment of unease creeping into his voice.

  Lena’s eyes widened slightly, her tail flicking behind her. “Then how did it get there?”

  Abel didn’t respond immediately. His mind raced through possibilities, but none of them sat right with him. Was the painting cursed? Did it have some unseen influence over him?

  His body moved before he fully processed it, stepping toward the wall. He reached out and gripped the painting firmly, ripping it down with a sharp motion before stuffing it into his robe’s storage space.

  Lena visibly relaxed once it was gone. “What… what was that?”

  Abel exhaled through his nose, masking his unease. “I don’t know yet,” he admitted, voice low. “But it’s not normal. If it appears again, don’t go near it. Just tell me immediately.”

  Lena nodded slowly, still shaken but trusting his judgment.

  Abel exhaled slowly, straightening as he shifted the conversation. “I’ll be leaving town for a few weeks,” he stated, his tone firm but calm.

  Lena’s feline ears twitched, and her golden eyes narrowed slightly. “Leaving?”

  He nodded. “I have… obligations outside of Reinhart. I won’t be gone for more than a month.”

  She crossed her arms, tilting her head. “And who’s supposed to keep this place from turning into a rat-infested ruin while you’re off handling obligations?”

  Abel smirked. “That’s where you come in.” Then, his expression grew more serious. “But I need you for something else.”

  Lena’s tail flicked behind her as she studied his face. “I’m listening.”

  “I need you to keep an eye on the mayor,” Abel said. “Something’s brewing in town, and I’d rather not leave things completely unchecked while I’m away. Watch Elliot closely—his safety is a priority, even above the basement.”

  He had already concealed the entrance and felt it was much safer now. Therefore, her prowess could be used elsewhere.

  Lena’s grin faded into a thoughtful expression. She understood what he wasn’t saying outright. If Abel was concerned enough to make Elliot her main focus instead of guarding the estate, then whatever was coming wasn’t small.

  Abel continued, lowering his voice. “Don’t underestimate whoever might be behind this. The enemy won’t announce themselves until it’s too late.”

  Lena scoffed but smirked again, rolling her shoulders as if easing into the responsibility. “Fine, fine. But if anything happens to this estate while you’re gone, I’m blaming you.”

  Abel chuckled. “Fair enough.”

  “I’ll take full responsibility,” Abel said, his amusement fading as his thoughts returned to the painting, the vision, and the unseen forces at play.

  Without another word, he turned toward the basement. “I’ll be preparing for my departure,” he called over his shoulder.

  Lena watched him go, her feline instincts still bristling from whatever had just transpired.

  Something was wrong with that painting.

  And she had a feeling it wasn’t finished with them yet.