War ends and trouble starts

Choo Choo Choo! (Yes, I know, bear with me)

Lined with passengers eager to reach their destinations after years of stress, the train station was bustling.

Eager commoners were looking forward to rejuvenating vacations at renowned tourist spots.

Merchants saw opportunities to profit from the end of the 'drought'.

Nobles were ready to splurge, eager to spend after a period of forced financial celibacy.

Meanwhile, unnoticed by all, the hardworking train staff struggled to cope with the sudden surge of passengers.

One of the ticket agents, accustomed to the station's usual desolation, lamented, 'Although I'm grateful that the civil war has ended, I can no longer slack off as I used to.'

Among the passengers, an elderly man in his seventies, clad in the standard suit and tie worn by noble bureaucrats, boarded the train.

Despite being well past his prime, with his face wrinkled and his head as barren as a desert, he walked upright without the aid of a cane, his lips curled into a confident smile.

As he was guided to his compartment, the train staff recognized the old man's noble status, aware that only the noble class could afford to buy the whole compartment for themselves.

The porter, in particular, was careful not to offend him. As he reached his designated compartment, the porter opened the door while bowing to him.

Examining everything within the compartment, from the bed, to interior design, to even the fragrance of the compartment, the porter saw no problem and carefully explained the room's features: mindful that older individuals might find the technology— invented 20 to 40 years ago but only becoming mainstream in the last 5 to 10—challenging.

"Good lord, the wall to the left of your bed has two round-shaped switches called 'buttons.' By pressing one, you can call for our assistance," the porter explained, pointing out two wall-mounted buttons.

"If the problem is related to the meal we serve on the train, press the yellow button."

"So, if I say my steak isn't mooing for a conversation, would you come back and bring a whole cow instead?" asked the old man, his lips curling up in amusement.

"Uh... yes, we can," he nervously laughed, having no clue of the context and meaning of the old man's jest.

He was a commoner in his twenties while the nobleman was in his seventies. There was bound to be a difference in speech, though he felt it was more glaring than usual.

"If the problem is related to the compartment, press the ivory button."

"So, if the issue with the room is its size, can I change it?", the old man mischievously asked, causing the porter to smile and sigh internally, already weary of this nobles' bad jokes.

After demonstrating how to use the button by calling a colleague, the porter tried to ensure the old man understood, despite the old man's apparent confusion.

'Anyway, it doesn't matter...', the porter thought before bowing and exiting the room and continued doing his job. As the porter left, the old man sighed in relief and jumped onto the bed with a comedic flair.

'Phew, I made it!', he thought, relieved his spoils were not discovered. He lay on the bed to enjoy the experience... after all, he had splurged quite a sum to make his fake identity convincing.

Despite the pain of parting with his wealth, he couldn't afford to question his actions. This was especially true since the police had been intensively searching for him all morning, this time at full force as the department was no longer fragmented following the end of the civil war after four years.

'Let's see how nobles enjoy themselves.'

Lying on a lavender-scented bed made of cotton, he could feel its superior quality.

Unlike the itchy fabrics found in alleyways, which caused skin diseases, this was unbelievably soft yet firm, reminiscent of the bed he once slept in. While the room was quite modest in size, only fit for one person, it was compensated by its intricate designs and appliances it had.

Upon closer inspection of the room's decorations, he recognized the emblems of noble families currently allied with one of the three Dukedoms. Each emblem resembled a bird, with the most notable being the raven and the golden eagle

'It's funny the Dukedom of Phoenix is the one that controls the land transportation sector rather than the sky like their surname suggests.'

Pay attention to the carpet, it bore the motto of the ruler, alongside the symbol of the imperial family, Bahumat

-Even if Dracolich rises, we will judge impartially like our ancestors.-

'What a load of BS,' he thought, before looking outside the window, offering no privacy from the outside world and noticed the mountainous terrain as the train departed toward its destination for a long time.

'I should check there someday.' He thought, hearing a certain rumour after doing a heist in the morning.

Knock Knock!

'Hmm? Does porter need something?''

"Come in, young lad," he said, believing to be a porter he met earlier.

However, instead a young man in his mid twenties, came inside. Boasting a blazer jacket that went popular in a fashion show a few years ago, accompanied by a pair of reliable black pants with a cap that reminded him of Sherlock, he was strangely looking from behind after closing the door

"Excuse me sir, may I have a chat? I have something important to discuss."

He nodded and was observing the young man. 'Why a 4th rank here in this hour?'

The old man doubted his cover would blow up that easily, so he was skeptical whether he was from the local police agency, though Sherlock's iconic hat he wore did not help but raise questions about his identity.

However, he was also a 4th rank like him, which was pretty rare to encounter casually, so he can't possibly let his guard down in any case, especially if the person in question happens to be from the local police agency.

—----

The old man regarded him curiously while the young man gauged his mana.

"Do you believe in God, Sir?", the young man asked, staring at the old man, who paused for a moment before nodding.

"Very well, so let me give you this blessing, allowing you to have a safe journey.", he proclaimed before closing his eyes, which caused the old man to look at him perplexed.

On the surface, it seems light was emitting from his eyes, making it seem to be a priest when considering his words, yet his thoughts contradicts the notion.

'Good thing the 4th Rank in front of me is an old timer or else he would have noticed my mana signature.'. He wickedly smiled at the old man and concentrated mana into his palm, disguising it with light magic to mask his attack.

As a fellow 4th Rank himself, he knew the complexity of fighting someone in the same realm even if he was far older than him, so he opted to use this deception to finish him off.

Boom!

The floor's sudden vibration caught the old man off guard, sending him tumbling to the carpet as the young man's grin, now obscured by the light, turned cruel.

'As planned, Schafe and Alsatians successfully blew up the compartment, finishing the heilige mission, with only variables left to be resolved.', A detailed magic circle is formed in his palm, obscured by the intense light from the very same palm.

"Have a safe jour—", he last uttered before his throat was slashed in a split moment.

"You know, you should be more patient towards an old man like me.", the old man said with a grin while wiping off blood from his blade he pulled from his hand.

The young man floundered like a fish while clutching his bloodied throat, failing to breathe, before the old man drove the blade deep inside his throat to end his misery.

'It's like they say, you snooze, you lose.'

Nonetheless, the old man wondered why a 4th Rank mage was here and wanted him dead all of a sudden, but he didn't care after looking at his possession.

'Lets see what I got.'

He inspected the blazer he yanked it off from from the newly formed corpse, looking for any hidden items.

'Just a pretty black cube and a ring that looked like...the snake of a game I used to play that bit his own tail.'

Regardless, he made a profit by looting his wealth that was enough to book a designated noble's room on the train for five times in a row and was thinking of going to a nearby pawn shop to sell the remaining odd looking items.

Wearing the blazer after removing blood off the coat after casting a spell, he looked for a mirror to see how well it fit him, however he grew a bit tense after hearing footsteps.

'Must be related to that man.'

Knock Knock!

[Mask of the Circus Clown!]

—-----------

"Boss, are you here?", said one of the grunts, who was the porter of the train.

Opening the door, he sees his 'boss' standing over a corpse whose head was barely attached to the spine.

'Rest in peace old man, blame your luck for betraying you.'

"Anyway boss, all 20 of us managed to get out of harm's way on time, unfortunately the noble rooms were unscratched even though we detonated the explosion.", the grunt said while lamenting, tired of privileged people leaching over them.

As he unloaded the news without interruption, his eyes curiously stared at the corpse to see what kind of attack nearly severed the head of the old man until he noticed something peculiar about the corpse.

'Why does the old man look familiar to bo—'

"While it was rude you entered the room without my permission, I am grateful for you for bringing the news as I wouldn't know the situation of the train after your boss attacked me, but I want to ask…"

"Why do people wish to die in my hands this early today?", he helplessly sighed, severing the grunt's head off his body when the grunt was not paying attention to the blade that was placed on his shoulder.