48 Hours a Day

To avoid getting caught by the manager of the insulae, Zhang Heng and Dadatis left through the window they came in.

Dadatis had prepared a small boat on the Tiber River downstairs.

As Zhang Heng climbed into the boat, he noticed no oars on board, so he asked the old Persian, “How are we supposed to get out of here?”

“Relax, we just have to go down the river,” replied the old trainer as he undid the moorings.

The boat then began to drift downstream under the influence of the current.

Zhang Heng and Dadatis each occupied one end of the boat, one at the bow and the other at the stern.

Even though the Tiber River was submerged in darkness, and the hustle and bustle during the day were absent, the scenery was no less remarkable. Reflections of the stars scattered across the galaxy twinkled in the water, like a transparent ribbon studded with agate, and the reflection of the moon trailed the boats, riding the ripples, fracturing one moment before becoming whole again the next.

“You were right not to come during the day,” Dadatis, who was at the stern, said suddenly. “It’s not safe out here anymore, and it’s better we do not meet unless absolutely necessary. And remember to pretend you don’t know me in front of the others.”

“Hmm?”

“Remember Balance Blade’s enemy?”

“Oh, you mean the traitor who allied himself with Octavian two hundred years ago? I remember you said that he formed an organization of assassins similar to the Balance Blade, specifically to deal with the Balance Blade.”

“Yes, they call themselves the Hounds,” said Dadatis. “We have fought hand to hand against each other over two hundred years, but about sixty years ago, our people caused the Hounds to suffer great loss—we successfully assassinated most of their core members.”

“That means you people did pretty good. What happened after that?”

“Then the lucky few who managed to get away disappeared for a very long time until half a year ago when we came across their trail.”

“You think they’re coming back?” Zhang Heng asked.

“They are not coming back; they are already back.” A troubled look settled on Dadatis’ face. “We just received news that one of our core members who was investigating a suspected Hound was assassinated in Britannia. And we know nothing of the murderer.”

“Is this Hounds’ doing?”

“We don’t know for sure yet. But besides the Hounds, we don’t have any other suspects. The assassin who was killed was codenamed Blackfish. He may not be the best assassin in the organization, but he is definitely the most cautious one. He was born in Britannia, and he knew the place and people well. In addition to the organization’s reputation, he also had many personal friends there, so his death was a shock to the other members of the organization.”

“You’re worried about this.” Zhang Heng looked at the Persian in the eyes.

“Yes, the Hounds’ return meant that the survivors of the war sixty years ago are planning to level the score. They’ve been quietly regrouping, and after preparing for so long—this comeback won’t be as simple as killing one or two of us. This means that new war is coming, a war between Balance Blade and the Hound.”

Dadatis expressed his concern. “Although Balance Blade won sixty years ago, we have been living a little too comfortably since then, and we don’t know much about the new breed of Hounds. Our enemies, on the other hand, must have been studying us, and once they make a move, they will hit us where it hurts most.”

“But haven’t you already decided to retire?” Zhang Heng asked. “In that case, get out while you still can, so you will have nothing to do with whatever happens after that.”

“Do I seem like the kind that makes a run for it at a time like this?” The old Persian looked annoyed. “Besides, you refused to learn the art of balancing. You’re only interested in the fighting—that is not how it should be. Fighting skills are just a means to an end. Our mission is to maintain the balance of everything in the world for Kreis’ sake. You need to keep this in mind at all times because it is what distinguishes us from the other assassins.”

“Mmhmm…” Zhang Heng muttered absentmindedly.

Dadatis let out a deep sigh. This apprentice of his was good at everything, one might even call him the perfect assassin archetype, but the only problem was that he was unable to accept the Balance Blade’s beliefs. In the past, Dadatis would not have minded even it took him a long time, as long as Zhang Heng was willing to join the Balance Blade. Under their imperceptible influence, eventually, Zhang Heng should be able to blend in.

But when he received the news about Black Fish’s assassination, Dadatis realized that he may not have the luxury of time either.

As they were speaking, the little boat had already made its way under a bridge. Dadatis set his thoughts aside, reached out a hand, and knocked rhythmically somewhere on the structure of the bridge. Almost immediately, a rope ladder descended from the top of the bridge.

The Persian gestured for Zhang Heng to take the lead, and Zhang Heng climbed up.

Waiting for them at the top was a tightly covered, black, horse-drawn carriage.

“Don’t think too much. This is an unusual time. The priestess is very important to the Balance Blade; we need to do all we can to keep her safe.”

“I understand.” Zhang Heng accepted the black cloth meant to cover his eyes and climbed into the wagon. While it was a horse-drawn carriage, it was very different from those used in the later generations. This one only had two wheels, and it was not as comfortable as its modern counterparts. It lacked any windows or doors as well. Sitting inside, Zhang Heng felt as if he was sitting inside a coffin.

Even more so when Dadatis sealed the tiny hole that was the entrance.

“This is as far as I go. Someone will escort you later on. Remember to show some respect when you meet the priest. She hates people who are disrespectful to Kreis.”

“That would’ve been my guess,” Zhang Heng grunted, wholly aware of the claustrophobic space and coldness around him.

Fortunately, the journey was a short one. After about half an hour later, they arrived at their destination. But no one called for Zhang Heng to exit the carriage. Instead, four slaves came to carry the carriage.

Zhang Heng counted silently in his head. After about a hundred steps, he was put down again.

After that, it was all quiet. The slaves appeared to have left, and Zhang Heng was seemingly forgotten.

It wasn’t until a quarter of an hour later that an emotionless voice, frigid as like a block of marble, spoke out. “You are quite calm. Aren’t you afraid that I might have my people throw you into the river?”