novelnext Chapter 137: Acquiring Crates Of Phones
Chapter 137: Acquiring Crates Of Phones
Eskil, along with his team, cautiously entered the warehouse. The air was thick with the smell of old wood and dust, illuminated only by the faint moonlight filtering through cracks in the boarded-up windows.
’Time to see what all the fuss is about,’ he thought, eyeing the neatly stacked crates in front of him. Each one bore the unmistakable insignia of the Steele family, and if his intel was correct, they contained the infamous "Phones" that had been whispered about in hushed conversations across the kingdom.
He waved a hand. "Alright, let’s crack these open and see what we’ve got."
Captain Brannon, ever the man of action, grabbed a crowbar and wedged it under the lid of the nearest crate. With a grunt, he pried it open, and the wooden slats groaned in protest before snapping apart.
For a moment, there was silence.
Then, as one, they all leaned in, peering into the crate’s contents.
A stunned hush fell over the group.
"What... in the depths of the underworld... are these?" Brannon muttered, reaching in and pulling out a sleek, rectangular object. It was smooth, black, and had a strange reflective surface that glinted under the warehouse’s dim light.
Magus Calder blinked at it. "It’s... uh... a very fancy mirror?"
The burly sergeant furrowed his brows. "Doesn’t look like a weapon." He lifted one and turned it over in his hands. "Maybe it’s some kind of enchanted stone?"
Private Harrow tilted his head. "What if it’s a... flattened book?"
Eskil crossed his arms and tried to feign the same confusion as his men. ’Yes, yes, act surprised. Pretend you don’t know exactly what’s in these crates.’ He stroked his chin for dramatic effect.
"Hmm," he mused. "Could be an explosive device."
The young soldier holding one of the objects let out a high-pitched squeak and immediately dropped it back into the crate. "Sir, permission to retreat!"
Eskil fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Denied."
Brannon gave the device a firm shake. "Doesn’t feel like it’s going to explode." He frowned. "But it could be cursed."
Calder sighed. "Well, there’s one way to find out." He muttered a quick detection spell, and the air shimmered faintly around the mysterious device. His eyes widened. "It’s enchanted. But... it’s not dangerous."
Eskil let out a dramatic gasp. "Are you telling me we risked our necks for enchanted paperweights?"
Brannon huffed. "I didn’t sign up for this."
Harrow, still squinting at the device, cautiously tapped it against his palm. "Maybe it’s some sort of message storage? Like a talking scroll?"
At this, the entire group turned to look at Eskil, as if expecting him to suddenly understand everything. He cleared his throat and rubbed his jaw. ’Right, time to pretend I totally just figured this out and wasn’t already aware of what we were stealing.’
He reached down, picked up one of the objects, and pressed a random part of it.
Nothing happened.
He frowned and pressed another part.@@@@
Still nothing.
Brannon sighed. "Well, that was anticlimactic."
"Wait, wait," Eskil said, waving a hand. "There’s got to be a trick to it."
Calder narrowed his eyes. "What if it needs a command word?"
Brannon grinned. "Try saying ’Open, sesame.’"
Eskil shot him a look but, after a brief pause, cleared his throat and said, "Open, sesame."
Nothing.
"Well," Harrow said, "that’s disappointing."
Eskil growled in frustration and pressed his thumb against the smooth black surface.
Suddenly, the device lit up.
A collective gasp echoed through the warehouse.
The screen glowed an eerie blue, displaying strange symbols none of them could understand. The group collectively took a step back as if the object had just grown fangs and hissed at them.
"What sorcery is this?" Brannon whispered.
Calder, whose curiosity often outweighed his sense of caution, leaned in. "It’s... reacting to your touch, Major."
Eskil turned the device over, feeling a thrill of excitement beneath his feigned shock. He tapped the screen, and suddenly, a series of unfamiliar images and glyphs appeared.
Harrow’s jaw dropped. "It’s... moving on its own!"
Brannon snatched another one from the crate and started jabbing at its surface. "Does mine do that?"
Calder was furiously muttering detection spells under his breath. "There’s no dark magic. No necromancy. No curse. It’s just... magic, but in a way I’ve never seen before."
Eskil smirked. "Gentlemen, I believe we are holding the future in our hands." He paused, letting the dramatic weight of his words settle before adding, "These must be the Phones we’ve heard about."
A hush fell over the group again. Then, in near-perfect unison, they all turned to stare at the crates—filled to the brim with these strange, glowing devices.
Brannon let out a low whistle. "So... this is what everyone’s been whispering about?"
Harrow ran a finger along the edge of the device in his hands. "They say these can send messages across great distances instantly. No messenger birds. No scrolls."
Calder nodded, eyes wide with wonder. "Some even say they let you see people’s faces while you talk to them. As if they were right in front of you."
Brannon scoffed. "That’s ridiculous. That’s like saying we’ll soon have carriages that move without horses."
Eskil hummed. ’Oh, Brannon, if only you knew.’
Calder, still deep in thought, muttered, "If these are really what people say they are, this could change everything."
But Eskil wasn’t finished. He had one more piece to put in place.
"Now, about our second problem," he said, letting his tone darken slightly. "We all know who this shipment was for, don’t we?"
Brannon’s brow furrowed. "The Phantom Assembly."
Eskil nodded. "Exactly. Now tell me, why would the Steele Family be supplying them with something as valuable as these?"
A tense silence settled over the squad.
Harrow shifted uneasily. "I mean... that does seem odd."
Calder scoffed. "More than odd. It’s outright suspicious."
Brannon cracked his knuckles. "If they’re dealing with the Phantom Assembly, that means they’re aiding a criminal organization. That’s treason."
Eskil’s smirk returned. "Exactly."
The realization settled over the group like a heavy weight. The Steele Family was one of the most powerful noble houses in the kingdom. If they were providing the Phantom Assembly with these ’Phones,’ it meant they were involved in something far greater than simple business.
Eskil let his words hang before speaking again. "And we all know what that means, don’t we?"
Brannon’s expression darkened. "It means they need to pay."
Calder nodded. "We have to report this."
Harrow clenched his fists. "The Steele Family working with the Phantom Assembly... it’s disgusting."
Eskil placed his hands behind his back, feigning a somber expression. "It’s our duty to make sure this information reaches the right people. The Steele Family must answer for their actions."
Brannon smirked. "I never liked those pompous bastards anyway."
Calder’s eyes gleamed with a newfound determination. "And they won’t be able to escape this. If we make it clear in our report that they were supplying the Phantom Assembly, then no amount of bribery or noble privilege will save them."
Harrow grinned. "Yeah! They’ll get what’s coming to them."
Eskil inwardly grinned. His plan had taken hold, and his men were fully on board.
He clapped his hands together. "Then it’s settled. We’ll report that we only recovered a single crate. We’ll state that the Steele Family’s guards burned the rest before we could secure them. And most importantly, we’ll emphasize their connection to the Phantom Assembly."
Brannon smirked. "This is going to cause a real storm in the capital."
Eskil’s eyes gleamed. "Good. Let it."
With that, the squad turned their attention back to the glowing devices, their initial fear now replaced with curiosity and intrigue. They had secured something far more valuable than they could have ever imagined.
And Eskil?
He had just set the stage for something far greater.
~~
Eskil, a smug grin playing on his lips, climbed into the lead carriage, the single salvaged crate of ’Phones’ secured within. His team followed, their initial confusion replaced with a shared sense of conspiracy and excitement. As the carriages rumbled back towards the Eastern Borders, Eskil couldn’t resist the urge to examine his prize.
’Time to see what all the fuss is about,’ he thought, carefully lifting one of the sleek black devices. It felt strangely warm to the touch, almost alive. He pressed a button, and the screen flickered to life, displaying a series of strange symbols.
"Well, that’s certainly... something," he muttered, tapping the screen curiously. The symbols shifted and rearranged themselves, forming what looked like a list of names.
"What’s it doing?" Brannon asked, peering over his shoulder.
"I have no idea," Eskil admitted, "but I’m going to figure it out."
He spent the rest of the journey experimenting with the device, tapping, swiping, and pressing buttons at random. He discovered a feature that seemed to be some kind of messaging system, allowing him to write and send messages instantly.
’Like sending messenger pigeons,’ he mused, ’but much faster and without the risk of someone intercepting the message.’
He also noticed that the device seemed to draw power from magic. He could feel a faint pull on his own martialist aura, converting it into magical energy to power the device.
’Ingenious,’ he thought. ’Though the efficiency could be better.’
Back at the Eastern Borders, Eskil presented the single salvaged crate to his superiors, spinning a tale of brave guards, a sudden attack, and a warehouse engulfed in flames. His superiors, eager to believe the best of their men and the worst of the Steeles, readily accepted his report. The ’Phone’ was confiscated, destined for the hands of higher-ups, while Eskil, with a perfectly innocent expression, slipped away, the rest of the ’Phones’ safely tucked away in his storage ring.
Meanwhile, far away in the capital, chaos had erupted. At the abandoned warehouse, Phantom Assembly members arrived to collect their shipment, only to find a smoldering ruin. The crates, the ’Phones’, all gone.
Zylle Mordan, her beautiful face contorted with fury, immediately penned a letter to Alaric.
"Alaric," the letter began, her tone chillingly polite, "we are most... concerned... about the recent incident at the Ravencrest warehouse. Our operatives arrived to collect the shipment of ’Phones’ as agreed, only to find the location burnt to the ground. We are curious as to why this happened. Was this... a change of plans? Or perhaps... a betrayal?"
The letter ended with a veiled threat, a subtle reminder of the Phantom Assembly’s power and reach.
Alaric, upon receiving the letter, was genuinely confused. He had not ordered the warehouse to be burned. In fact, he had been quite casual about the whole affair, assuming the delivery would go smoothly.
’What the hell happened?’ he thought, his brow furrowed. ’I certainly didn’t order anything to be burned. And my guards... they haven’t contacted me. Something must have happened to them.’
He considered the possibility of an interception but dismissed it almost immediately. The details of the shipment, including the fact that it consisted of ’Phones’ and its destination, were known only to a select few within the Steele family, and even his guards were unaware of the true nature of their cargo.
’Someone else must have done it,’ he thought, a sense of unease creeping into his mind. ’But who? And why?’
He reread Zylle’s letter, his eyes narrowing at the veiled threat. He knew the Phantom Assembly wasn’t an organization to be trifled with. They were powerful, ruthless, and they wouldn’t hesitate to retaliate if they felt betrayed.
’I need to get to the bottom of this,’ he thought, a sense of urgency gripping him. ’And fast.’
He penned a reply to Zylle, assuring her that he had no knowledge of the fire and promising to investigate the matter thoroughly. He also subtly inquired about any information they might have regarding the incident, hoping to glean some clues about who might be behind it.
As he sealed the letter, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss. He had a bad feeling about this, a sense that he was being manipulated, that someone was playing him for a fool.
’I need to be careful,’ he thought, his mind already racing with possibilities. ’This could be more complicated than I thought.’
He knew that he needed to find out who was behind the warehouse fire, not only to appease the Phantom Assembly but also to protect himself and his family from whatever scheme was unfolding.