The next morning, at the break of dawn, Caesar pulled the covers off of his body and stretched his limbs. He had acquired more than enough sleep last night, so he was quite prepared for the upcoming meeting. He pa.s.sed by the snoring Joe and cleansed himself inside of the bathroom, first scrubbing his skin and then brushing his hair.
Afterword, he proceeded to dress in a fashionable double-breasted suit. He adorned form-fitted, sky-blue trousers, a pair of sharp, black boots, a midnight-blue vest, and a white long-sleeved shirt, topped off with silk gloves. Although he was planning on wearing a mask and thick robes, there was a high chance of him revealing his ident.i.ty as the a.s.semblage.
Trust could not be maintained when their faces were veiled—a relationship cannot be formed without a.s.surance. If one held the advantage over the other, the friendship would crumble. In contrast, if they possessed the same authority, it would thrive. People only formed bonds based on self-interest, whether they admitted to it or not.
With this in mind, Caesar straightened the collars of his suit and walked toward a small piece of paper, resting on a night-stand. He pulled out a quill pen from his storage ring and dabbled it into an inkstone, proceeding to write down a few words for the sleeping Joe. He didn"t want the hungover dwarf to be shocked at his absence, so he described the current situation in detail.
Once he was done writing the eloquent letter, he straightened his back and exited the room. There was no need to converse with anyone on his way out, so he simply kept his head down and ignored the feverish glances from the innkeeper. His figure was superbly dressed, causing most people to speculate about his background, but also striking fear into the commoners.
After leaving the tavern, he walked into the bustling streets and subtly made his way into a desolate alleyway. A thick cloak and mask suddenly appeared from thin air, shrouding his fancy clothes, and shading his facial features.
Caesar was a meticulous man and even concealed most of his mana, making it impossible to detect him. Although it was still morning and there was no need to prepare so thoroughly, he still wanted to scope out the abandoned chapel, just in case any traps were placed.
Thinking to here, he leaped on top of the nearest building and made his way to the desired location. Not even his silhouette was detected by the pedestrians down below. He moved far too swift for the average human eye to follow. Of course, those that could see his figure were not very interested—no one wanted to cause an issue without an appropriate reason.
Like this, he soon arrived in the vicinity of the abandoned chapel, along with the other run-down houses. Vines intertwined with each other and only animals ran about, not a single human was in sight. Debris was scattered all over the place, and pine blanketed the ground. Squirrels chittered from the trees, birds chirped from the sky, and the morning sun illuminated this beautiful scene.
Caesar inspected the surroundings and made sure that no one else was present before he entered one of the abandoned houses. It was a bit taller than the rest and contained a few broken windows inside. He sat down on a weathered couch, full of sun-marks and corrosion.
His gaze landed on the abandoned chapel, adjacent from him. His eyes never left the vicinity, patiently waiting until night descended. Persistence was a key-aspect to greatness, and he stayed in the exact same location. Even when the sun went down, and the stars came out, he was still there, sitting on the couch.
It wasn"t until the dead of night approached that the sound of footsteps finally reverberated in his ears. There many more steps in comparison to the last meeting, and in response, about a dozen or so cloaked figures popped their heads out the eastern pa.s.sageway. They appeared to much more disciplined than the three hooligans before, and their abundant mana was leaking out of their abdomen.
Caesar could not discern who the leader was, so he hopped off of his building, landing a few meters in front of the cloaked figures. His fox-like mask and thick robes were faintly discernible due to the luminescence from the vibrant moon.
The group of men from Requiem didn"t have much of a reaction, merely nodding their head in response, while the one in front took a step forward. "Sir, this abandoned chapel is not a good location to hold our meeting, our master wants to meet you in a much more protected area," he said with a deep, masculine voice.
Caesar nodded his head, "I suppose I can trust you, yes?" he asked with a short chuckle, scrutinizing the reaction of the group of people.
Unfortunately for him, they didn"t react in the slightest. "Our organization is many things, whether it is considered to be unethical, or even evil. However, we are not liars, I can a.s.sure you of that," the man in front spoke with an unwavering confidence, gesturing for Caesar to follow.
Caesar didn"t bother making it harder for the group of subordinates; he just followed without talking much more. They headed more north, in a direction where not many houses existed. Instead, vast plantations and workshops were thriving.
The sound of metal clashing against each other rang out, and the sawing of wood could be seen all over the place. h.e.l.l, even the technicians were busy reverse engineering the trebuchet that Caesar had made the blueprint for, causing him to smile wryly.
They weren"t actually challenging to create; a primary degree in engineering back on earth would provide the basics. The world is full of geniuses; there"s undoubtedly a man who has already improved on the trebuchet, or created an identical replica. Either way, Caesar didn"t care too much.
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They continued walking for another half an hour until they finally reached the front of a grand mansion, full of lights that escaped the gla.s.s windows. A set of guards, carrying silver weapons stood at attention, opening the thick doors with a respectful nod.
Caesar could feel the presence of many people inside the mansion, some more powerful than others. However, they were all either weaker than him, or around the same level. None of them possessed the same strength as Ibrahim or Musashi.