163 Calamity in Disguise [Abner the Royal Guard]

It had been a couple of days since the duel between me and that arrogant mercenary. Morale around camp remained high, though I doubted it would stay that way once the fighting began. The last of the noble houses allied to his highness had arrived only hours ago. Banners of Blasten, Feenno, Lomarel, Thornland, Goldburg, and Contine fluttered together over the northern gorge. Seeing these great houses gathered under Prince Grant’s call only reinforced an unavoidable truth that among the six princes, the youngest held the most influence.

It was dangerous for a royal sibling that young to be this competent. The court understood that well, which was why assassins had targeted him in the past. Yet despite everything, Prince Grant still lived. Cunning, talent, and loyal retainers had carried him this far. I, being newly assigned to him, still had much to prove.

Dinner that night was quiet. I shared a small table with Amelia, one of the two mercenaries his highness had told me to keep an eye on. She had lowered her hood for the meal, revealing straight brown hair, clean features, and a calm, unreadable expression. She looked more like a noble daughter than someone who worked for coin. Compared to Renry, who acted like a drunk bandit with too much energy, Amelia carried herself with the composure of a trained soldier.

Still, I refused to be deceived by a pleasant face. In every thread of clairvoyance I pulled, she fought with frightening skill. If I tried to kill her, she dodged and countered without revealing her gift. And every time I forced her into a losing position, Nick interfered, and together they overwhelmed me. What troubled me most was how, in reality, the moment I entered clairvoyance to observe Nick, he would suddenly turn and stare at me as if he sensed my attempt. When I reported this oddity to his highness, he instructed me to test Nick. Coincidentally, that was the very moment Nick challenged me to a duel.

The result was a draw.

I still couldn’t fully accept it. His stance, grip, and footwork at the start were clumsy and undeniably the movements of someone who had never held a sword. Yet in mere breaths, he adapted to my style, read my rhythm, and nearly matched my technique. No ordinary man could improve that fast, and no gifted warrior should be this unknown.

I bit into a piece of roasted venison and asked, “Where’s the other?”

“Nick?” Amelia replied calmly. “He’s asleep. Don’t mind him.”

I doubted he was asleep. More likely, he was avoiding attention or conserving strength. I studied her for a moment before asking the question that had bothered me since the duel.

“If you don’t mind answering, what is Nick’s gift?”

Amelia didn’t react at first. She chewed her food slowly, as if weighing how much to reveal. Finally, she answered in a steady voice, “Enhancer body coordination. Any physical ability he wants to perform, he can do it without needing to practice. Running, balancing, climbing, swordsmanship… anything. His body can mimic it perfectly.” She flicked a glance toward Nick’s tent and added, “He also doesn’t tire. And he doesn’t need sleep.”

Huh? Doesn’t tire or sleep? Did I sense sexual innuendo there?

Wait... Didn't she say he was asleep? What was this contradiction of not needing sleep?

For some reason, I should focus on this contradiction, but I felt a light buzz behind my head as if someone was whispering to me.

"Is there a problem?" asked Amelia as she snapped her fingers over my face. "Can you hear me, Sir Abner?"

"Y-yes," I stuttered an answer. "Apologies..."

I had heard of Enhancer Gifts that pushed the body to its limits, but I doubted Nick’s was that simple. The most gifted enhancers could shift their organs to avoid fatal blows, compress joints to slip through impossibly narrow spaces, hide weapons inside their own bodies, and master any craft in a fraction of the time a normal person needed. All of that fell within the realm of what was possible for the highest tier of body-type Gifts.

But Nick’s demonstration during our duel had broken every expectation. I had never seen someone learn so fast. Not merely fast, but almost instant! Movements that took elite warriors decades to polish became natural to him within heartbeats. And on top of that, it felt as if he were reading my mind. He reacted before my strikes even began. He moved ahead of every intent I concealed.

The Allied Kingdoms were infamous for producing mind readers, scries, and psychic killers. That thought lingered in my mind like a bitter taste. If Nick was a spy planted beneath a forged identity, I would need to urge his highness to order a second investigation.

My thoughts broke when an attendant approached the table. He wore plain clothes, but his presence was unmistakable. He was Shadow. One of his highness’s most loyal retainers, an assassin, a shapeshifter, and the man who, alongside Hall, had saved the prince countless times in the past. He simply bowed to me and said, “Sir Abner, his highness requests your presence.”

I set down the venison and rose. “Understood.” Turning to Amelia, I said, “Enjoy the rest of your meal.”

She offered a polite nod, nothing more. Her face was unreadable, but her eyes followed Shadow with sharp focus. I ignored it. If I wanted to be acknowledged among his highness’s inner circle, I needed to prove that I belonged beside Hall and Shadow, not beneath them.

After a short walk, I reached the great war tent where matters of the coming hunt were discussed. It was packed with the most influential figures in the expedition including nobles, generals, scholars, and seasoned warriors. Prince Grant sat at the center, dignified but tense. Maps, tokens, and stacks of sealed letters filled the table before him.

Discussion was already well underway.

“The division of spoils should follow the previous agreement,” declared Lord Feenno. “My house provides the largest number of soldiers. We deserve a larger portion.”

“And my house,” countered Lady Thornland, “provided the alchemists and supplies for the long journey north. Our contribution cannot be treated lightly.”

Several more nobles threw their own demands into the mix. Support for the prince did not come without its prices. There were future marriages, trading rights, military favors, and land disputes that were all being negotiated under the guise of “cooperation.” Even here, in a hunt for a dragon, politics ruled every corner.

When I stepped inside, the nobles turned their eyes toward me at once. That wasn’t what I wanted. An attendant should’ve announced me, but before I could slip into a corner and stand guard quietly, Hall slammed the butt of his halberd into the ground.

“Lords and Ladies,” he proclaimed loudly, “this is Abner, Royal Guard and trusted retainer of His Highness!”

My jaw tightened. ‘Idiot!’ Now every gaze was pinned on me. The nobles didn’t appreciate my presence, nor my sudden elevation in rank being so close to his highness, and Hall’s dramatic announcement only made it worse.

Prince Grant lifted a hand. “Calm down, Hall. There’s no need to make a scene.”

Hall grinned, unbothered. He had always been like that. He was straightforward, earnest, and powerful enough to get away with it. Ten years ago, he had been a wandering knight with no home. Now, he stood only one step below Shadow in importance. His ability to manipulate weight, turning a blade lighter than a feather or heavier than a mountain, made him a legendary figure on the battlefield. I had sparred with him many times. We were evenly matched, with or without the magic embedded in our weapons.

After a few more tense minutes, Prince Grant leaned back in his chair and gave the nobles a weary smile. “Gentlemen, ladies, that will do for today. You all have preparations to oversee. We will continue after sunrise.”

They bowed and filed out one by one, still muttering among themselves. Once the last of them left, only three of us remained inside the tent being Prince Grant, Hall, and me.

“What do you think?” his highness asked. “How strong is this… Nick?”

“Strong enough to compete with me fairly for the title of Chief Royal Knight,” I answered without hesitation. “I fear he’s hiding more than he lets on, but I’ve seen much of what he can do through my clairvoyance. I’ve also gathered what I could from his partner, Amelia.”

Clairvoyance gave me two minutes of the future every second, a constant stream of possibilities that sharpened every motion and every decision. It wasn’t only a combat gift, as it was perfect for gathering information. A question asked at the right moment, a gesture interpreted through dozens of probable reactions, and a conversation refined through precognition. It allowed me to read between words and anticipate truths concealed behind lies.

A brief memory surfaced.

During my examination of Amelia days earlier, she faced me without flinching. Her hood was lowered, her brown hair neat, her expression steady despite knowing exactly who I was.

“What is Nick’s gift?” I had asked.

She didn’t scowl or hide her thoughts. Rather, she let out a small sigh. “Nick is… complicated.”

“That is not an answer.”

“He’s a genius of gifts,” she finally said. “He sees through abilities the moment he watches them. He can figure out the nature of someone’s gift with only observation. Combat, tactics, movement… he adapts instantly.”

Her calm tone made the words heavier. “While I started young and trained under professional gifted instructors, Nick had no such luxury. Everything he knows, every skill he uses, he learned by himself. He mastered his gift through experience, hardship, and the need to survive.”

I remembered how still she held herself, as if withholding something deeper.

“He is far more than he appears,” she added. “And whatever you think he is… he’s more than that too.”

I relayed all of this to his highness.

“Interesting,” he murmured. “Professional gifted, you say? That means they were part of some organization.” He turned to Hall. “Your thoughts?”

Hall crossed his arms. “I need to fight him myself to judge his character.”

“I suggest we wait and watch him during the dragon hunt,” I said. “There are too many unknowns. I request a secondary investigation.”

“I’m already ahead of you,” the prince replied. “I’ve ordered the spy master to reinvestigate both of them. But I agree, the potential is impressive. If he kept up with you, then he is exceptionally skilled. As for the woman,”—his tone sharpened—“if she proves useless, we can dispose of her. Or perhaps use her as a hostage… though that method is beneath me. I have a better way to control someone.”

I blinked. ‘Better method?’ That was new. Despite the time I had been beside him, no matter how short, the prince never revealed everything about himself. Perhaps, he was yet to truly trust me. Still, the purity he displayed before others was a mask, a necessary one. I respected that deeply. A prince who lacked ruthlessness was unworthy of the throne.

“Oh,” the prince said suddenly. “Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.”

A man stepped into the tent. He wore ragged clothes as if he’d crawled out of a gutter. His long dark hair covered half his face, and his eyes were a cloudy white, as if blind. But he walked with perfect precision. Not a single step misplaced.

The spy master.

He stopped before the table with a crooked grin. “I guess… and I guess…” His voice was raspy but oddly playful. “I work, and I work. Therefore, I do guesswork!”

In one smooth motion, he pulled out several rolled parchments and extended them toward his highness.

“And this,” he said with a low chuckle, “is what I’ve found.”

Guesswork was one of the kingdom’s most unsettling figures. No one truly understood whether he was gifted or simply mad, but his information network reached everywhere, from the royal palace to distant provinces, from noble houses to slums. His methods were always questionable, bordering on supernatural, yet his findings were almost always accurate. People whispered that he saw the world differently, as if every possibility danced behind his blind-looking eyes.

His highness unrolled the parchments and let out a rueful laugh. “It seems I should abandon the idea of recruiting them.”

Hall leaned closer and stole a glance. The brief frown on his face was enough to tell me something was wrong.

“What is it?” I asked.

His Highness handed me the parchments. “See for yourself.”

Guesswork cleared his throat with an exaggerated flourish. “A reminder, your highness, that my information is limited by my perception and education.” He tapped his white eyes as if it were a joke. “My powers let me guess things confidently, and they usually end up true! But this time,” he dragged out the words, “I needed several stimulants to even form the smallest guesses about these two. Either you’ve struck gold… or you’re harboring a walking calamity. Choose wisely, your highness.”

I ignored his rambling and scanned the first parchment. It was Amelia’s.

[Name: Amelia Morose. Otherwise known as Tigress.]

Tigress? I blinked. That wasn’t a name I had heard among any northern clans or southern mercenary groups.

[Feats: Surviving an encounter with a death god and a lightning god. Tracked a certain death god with his ejaculate and survived again. Helped subjugate a certain lightning god. Highly precise operative of a secretive organization with detective specialization.]

My mind stopped. Death god? Lightning god? Ejaculate? What in the name of the throne was this nonsense?

I kept reading.

[Likes: Instant cup noodles, cats, scrambled eggs, eggplant dishes, news, puzzles, Nick.]

Instant… what? Cup noodles? The hell was that?

[Dislikes: Injustice, instant coffee, citrus, bananas, cucumber, loud noises, shedding, medication, Eclipse.]

Instant coffee? Did someone serve her slow coffee? What was instant about it?

I turned to the second parchment. It was Nick’s.

[Name: Nicholas Caldwell, otherwise known as Eclipse.]

Eclipse. Nobility names had surnames, yes, but “Eclipse” was a celestial omen. The scholars loved to write treatises about eclipses symbolizing disaster or rebirth. Was Nick some kind of scholar’s apprentice? Or perhaps Guesswork was hallucinating again.

I continued.

[Feats: Murder! MURDER! Lots of them. Probably, in the future too.]

I felt my face twist. “I don’t think he’s strong enough to cause… that much murder. Is he secretly some genocidal maniac?”

Guesswork raised both hands. “Harder to read him than the other one. I don’t know. That’s simply what I wrote while high on stimulants.”

I stared at him, speechless. How could the kingdom trust this madman?

I scanned the rest.

[Likes: kind silver-haired woman, crazy dark-haired woman, sentient bike, money, powers, style.]

“What in the world is a bike?”

No answer came.

[Dislikes: Mind controllers, authority, worse people.]

My gaze lingered on ‘mind controllers’. Something about that line tugged at the back of my mind, but I couldn’t place why.

Before I could dwell on it longer, his highness leaned back in his chair and exhaled slowly.

“So,” he asked, tone deceptively casual, “any suggestions?”