Chapter 6

The puzzling streets of Carran had an unknown visitor as Charon leisurely strolled down the main street, passing by coffee shops, clothing, and bookstores. He was tall, muscular build and with his piercing blue eyes, he scanned every inch of the area he was currently walking through. A trio of young women who were heading toward the Firefly Sip Tearoom that was located just across the street sent swooning gazes his way while giggling like a couple of schoolgirls as he approached them.

He was a handsome man. Dark hair slicked back fitted nicely with his bearded face, giving him a dangerous appearance. Charon gave them a brief glance, not bothering to stop and have a conversation. One group of women suddenly jumped in front of him, making him come to an abrupt halt. Just as he was about to cross the street.

Giving her an irritated look, the man sidestepped, trying to go around the noisy woman. Stopping him yet again as she grabbed him by the sleeve of his jacket, forcing him to turn and pay attention to her. Which annoyed him even further.

"I and my friends were wondering if you would join us for breakfast." She giggled, but he merely lifted his brow while the corner of his lip twitched slightly.

Looking down at her, the temptation to snap at her and push her off him was strong, yet he withheld himself. His instinct told him to hold himself back, and he was not about to distrust his instincts. She wore elegant clothing. Purple pencil dress followed her perfect hourglass figure. A short black jacket covered her upper body while unbuttoned and she had high heels and a light purple purse hanging on her left shoulder. Her red lips curled into a dashing smile, revealing her pure white teeth, while her greenish, shining eyes stared at his face.

Her entire platinum blond long hair was braided loosely in a distinctive fishtail style braid, completing her style altogether. A whiff of her perfume reached his nose, making him inhale. A feminine, warm floral scent of jasmine, freesia, and rose caressed his nostrils for a quick moment, relaxing his tension.

With a deep baritone tone, he let out a hum, allowing a lazy smirk to form on his lips.

"Do you often grab strangers by the sleeve and invite them to have breakfast with you? That is a dangerous game, sweetheart."

He watched how her cheeks blushed lightly and she cast her gaze down for a minute.

"No, not often. Only if I see a man that interests me," she chirped, earning a chuckle from him.

"Really? And what is it with me that interests you?"

"I don´t know yet. Perhaps the way you carry yourself or those gorgeous and piercing blue eyes of yours that demand attention. Why don´t we find out?"

She hummed thoughtfully, tapping her index finger on her chin while shamelessly letting her gaze wander over his body.

She liked what she was seeing, that much was obvious. She has a lucid taste in dangerous men. A taste that could very much cause her untimely demise. Black v-neck shirt underneath the black leather jacket and dark blue jeans. With his mysterious aura that kept emanating from him, those clothes fit the man nicely and gave him a treacherous look. She had to admit to herself she was a sucker for dangerous men.

The man wetted his lips and glanced over her head, seeing her friends giggling a little further away. He wasn´t in the mood of listening to three lovesick young women all morning babbling about how they wanted to find a man of their dreams. He knew that look they were giving him all too well. And he knew better than getting involved. Besides, he was on a mission to find someone in this city and having breakfast with women he didn´t know wasn´t part of his plan.

"Not this time. Believe me when I say I am not the kind of man you want in your life." The man's tone of voice held a warning as he took hold of her wrist and released himself from her grip. She pouted, letting her hand drop to her side.

"Can I at least hear your name?" she patted her lashes wishfully. The man sighed, closing his eyes for a second before replying with a deep voice that was a growl. He had no intention of giving her his real name.

"Ciroc."

The woman blinked. She stared at him for a good moment.

"That's an unusual name," she chimed, earning Charon to smirk.

"I am an unusual man."

"Indeed. I´m Theia." she smiled, offering her hand. Charon glanced at it before reaching out and taking her smaller hand, shaking it lightly. Noticing a ring on her finger, Charon made a mental note to himself, as the ring had a specific sigil. His gaze darkened for a moment. Charon didn´t want to ask about it from Theia since she clearly was related somehow to the person he was after. He didn´t want her to warn them.

"Pleasure. Now if you excuse me, I have to go."

Theia let go of his hand and nodded.

"The pleasure was all mine, trust me," she winked, making Charon chuckle before he stepped around the woman and walked across the street, disappearing into the crowd.

"Ladies! The tearoom is waiting!" Theia excitedly twirled around, walking toward her giggling friends and hooked her arms with the two of them, guiding them toward their regular place.

Charon walked briskly forward, his gaze dark and his lips forming a thin line.

Raking his brain, trying to connect the dots to which family the sigil belonged to. He had over the years learned almost every family crest in Krecia, but this was puzzling. Charon ignored the irritated glances of the people with who he bumped shoulders when he passed a weapon shop. And from the corner of his eye, Charon saw a sword on display on the window. He abruptly halted and stepped back until he was standing in front of the window looking at the sword, a deep frown on his face.

There was nothing special about the sword's design. It was a typical long sword, but the sigil on the base of the blade, where it connected with the hilt, has branded a sigil.

The same sigil he saw a moment ago on Theia´s ring.

Charon's jaw clenched as he glared at the sword as if he tried to burn a hole right through the blade.

Lifting his gaze, Charon saw through the window a young man behind the counter and decided to have a chat with him.

Charon approached the door and opened it, a bell above signaling to the seller a customer had just walked in.

The young man looked up from his booking, and a bright smile formed on his face.

"Good morning, sir! How can I help you?" He asked cheerfully, watching as Charon moved further in while letting his gaze roam around the shop.

"Morning. I have a question and I hope you have the answer." Charon hummed and stopped in front of the counter, finally looking at the seller in the eye.

"If it is about weapons we here sell, I´m sure I can answer your question."

The seller said, earning a chuckle from Charon while turning sideways, leaning his left arm on the counter, pointing at the sword on the window.

"That sword… I noticed an interesting sigil on it."

"Ah, the crest of the Tharron family."

The seller replied. Charon shifted his gaze back to the man behind the counter.

"Tharron?" he parroted, his brows rising curiously.

"Yes. The Tharron family is one of the oldest and richest families in Carran. Their skills making swords is miraculous and they allow us to sell them at a high price."

"Who wants to buy that kind of sword?" Charon questioned as he had seen the price tag on it and it was in his opinion, a ridiculous amount of money.

"Collectors mostly."

"But over 600.000 zhinies from one sword is a lot."

The seller merely smiled, then turned around and walked into the backroom, leaving Charon looking confused at the counter. In a couple of minutes, the seller came back holding a pure white scabbard in his hands and placed it on the counter.

Motioning Charon to pick it up, he watched as the older man took it carefully, inspecting it before drawing the sword out.

A low, long whistle left Charon´s lips when he saw the shining black blade. The blade had carvings in an ancient language, which only a few knew how to read these days.

It was a high-quality sword, and Charon could see the blade was extremely sharp.

"The scabbard is made of pure white seashells located only on the shores of Kirrath."

Charon glanced at the seller and then looked at the scabbard. It was as shiny as the blade and, with closer inspection, he could see tiny individual grains of the shells, which made the scabbard feel a little rough.

"This sword´s price is 500.000 zhinies because the scabbard is made from rare seashells and the blade is obsidian.

The sword on the window is made from the rare and hardest mineral in Krecia, margramite, mined from the side on active volcanoes and there are only three active volcanoes left in Krecia."

Charon pondered the seller's words. The reason these weapons were so expensive was that Tharron family used rare items to create them. It was smart move, he had to give them that.

But it meant these swords were merely to be put on display, they weren´t suitable for combat. The only exception was the sword in the window.

Margramite was light yet harder than any metal used on swords and swordsmen preferred it, but because it was rare and expensive, there were only a few people who owned one.

"A clever way of doing business." Charon finally chuckled and straightened himself while the seller took the sword and shielded it.

"Yes, it is. Since the patriarch of the family died three years ago, his son took the family business, and it is thriving."

Charon lifted his brow, tilting his head a little to the side, watching the seller putting the sword under the counter for the time being.

"His son? And that would be?"

"Valentianus Tharron. The older one of the two brothers."

Narrowing his eyes, Charon wetted his lips. Finally, he had a name. He should find more information about this Valentianus Tharron and his unnamed brother. He had over the years learned to listen to his instincts and now it was telling him it was Valentianus or his brother Charon had been searching for the past two years.

Nodding, Charon turned around and was about to walk out of the store when the seller stopped him.

"Please come again. I can tell you appreciate an excellent weapon. Maybe there is something we can offer you."

Charon slightly turned his head and glanced over his shoulder, giving the young man a fry smile before exiting the store without saying a word.

Charon strolled down the street with a faint smirk on his face. He was one step closer to finding the person he was after. When he got this assignment, he had little to go on. Only a description of a sigil, gender, which was a male, and the name of this city. Now, he had a family name.

His next stop was the city library. Grand, the light-yellow stone building stood proudly in the heart of Carran. Six white pillars greeted the visitors at the front double doors made of chestnut brown wood.

Entering the building, Charon saw a long hallway covered with colorful tiles creating a random pattern on the floor. Both sides from the floor up to the ceiling were four levels, and each level had endless rows of shelves full of books. Beautiful black railings on each level made sure no one would accidentally fall from the upper levels.

Halting in front of the tall billboard, which told every section, corridor, and shelf where someone could find a specific book collection. Charon searched for the section of family trees of the oldest families in Carran.

"Level three, corridor 6, shelf D23…."

He muttered, memorizing the spot, and then turned around, heading toward the staircase that led on upper levels.

Finding the level and corridor was easy enough, but when he stopped to look at each side of the long corridor, Charon wiped his face with a rumble.

"This is going to take forever."

Muttering curses under his breath, Charon sauntered forward looking for the letter D. When he reached the letter C, he glanced back, noticing he was halfway through the corridor, and it earned a groan from the man. He wasn´t a library kind of man; he preferred searching his intel from the people or online, but this particular intel he needed wasn´t online nor did people of Carran know every detail of the Tharron family, so Charon didn´t have a choice but to come here.

He was way out of his comfort zone.

Sighing, he kept walking until he saw the big D and nearly clapped his hands together. Charon's eyes scanned the shelves looking for the number 23.

"There you are."

He chuckled darkly when the number jumped into his sight.

He lifted his hand, letting it roam on the back of the row of books until he spotted an old red book. On the back was a text with golden letters "Tharron" and he pulled it out. It was a heavy and very thick book concluding the history of Tharron reached 500 years back.

Charon set the book on the floor as he sat down, crossed his legs, and opened the book. The pages were yellowed, and every turned page of it let out a quiet rustle. Charon found the table of contents and read it through thoughtfully and then flipped the pages twenty at a time until he found what he was looking for.

"Tharron family. Oldest one of the founding families of Carran. Impressive." Charon murmured as he read the first lines.

Then he went through the names until his gaze landed on Janus Tharron, the current empire's patriarch who had died three years ago. Next to his name read the name of a woman he had married forty years ago; Niraya Tharron. Under their names were two names: Valentianus and Riss Tharron. Under each name had a picture of the name bearer. Charon focused on the two young-looking men.

Valentianus Tharron, a blond, regal looking man with an icy stare and smug expression. It made Charon sneer.

Then he turned his attention on Valentianus´s younger brother, Riss Tharron. The man had semi-long light brown hair; his cheekbones were high, but what got Charon's attention was Riss´s eyes.

The gaze was hollow, and the faint smile seemed forced.

Charon knew that look.

He had seen it on so many of his targets.

What this man lacked was empathy and kindness, emotions that were undoubtedly foreign to him.

He was sure about it. Riss was the person they signed him to take care of.

Valentianus might have been a smug little rich boy, but he struck as the kind of type who didn´t want to dirty his own hands.

But Riss.

Charon stared at the picture, the hair on the back of his neck rising. Riss certainly looked the type who would gladly get his hands dirty.

Now all Charon needed to do was to find Riss and ask him how he felt when the young man butchered the entire Shrine of priestesses for one divine jewel the women were guarding.

The only survivor had luck on her side when she had been behind the Shrine fetching water from the well.

This young girl had witnessed the massacre from her hiding place. After the culprit had gone, she had found the elder barely alive and heard the last gurgled description about the sigil and a whisper of the name Carran before she had died.

The young priestess had spent days burying her friends and teachers while grieving their fate and cursing her cowardly action not to try stopping the mindless killing. After her task was done, the young woman sought Charon and offered the last of the money she made to make a deal with the assassin to hunt down this killer.

Charon remembered the words when he had asked what he should do when he would find the killer.

"Make them suffer."

The tone of her voice had been grave and the look on her face was full of rage as tears had streamed down on her cheek.

Lifting his gaze from the page, Charon glared ahead and closed the book. The memory of that young girl's facial expression deepened his resolve. Standing up, Charon took the book placing it back on the shelf. His fingers lingered on the back of the book before he dropped the hand while turning and then strode with determination down the corridor toward the staircase. Charon growled his vow under his breath with a deadly glare.

"I will, Fayne. I will make him regret the day he had set his foot on your Shrine."