Negotiation

Abel walked up in front of the crowd with a cigarette dangling from his lips.

He wore the Night Watchman's uniform. His eye sockets were sunken, and he looked as though he hadn't slept well.

The same thought occurred to Ivan and Little George at the same time: It's that Night Watchman.

Abel frowned as he saw the young man in front of him.

The power of the Order Aspect spread through his senses like a fine net, and fragments of memory surged into his mind.

The Small Chapel at night, the glowing jellyfish, the crowd dispersing... It was the gathering that night.

Gais, who was some distance away, had seen Abel appear and quickly slipped into a street corner. That was the only reason he hadn't been noticed.

Otherwise, this Night Watchman would surely have deduced that the young man in front of him was unusual.

"Is that you?" Abel's voice was hoarse, tinged with the exhaustion of staying up all night.

He stubbed out the cigarette and put it away, seemingly unwilling to smoke in front of the boy.

Little George was a little surprised. There had been so many people around that night, yet this Night Watchman had remembered what he looked like.

He nodded and said calmly:

"Hello, Mr. Night Watchman. I'm George, and I'm representing the workers in negotiations with City Hall over their treatment."

Abel gave a noncommittal nod and looked at the Captain of the Constabulary, who had just spoken.

The fat man seemed a little afraid of the Night Watchman, too. He had heard some strange rumors about them.

But seeing the many men under his command, he didn't want to lose face, so he stuck out his chin and said:

"Mr. Night Watchman, we've already taken proper measures to deal with the workers' strike..."

Abel smiled, ignored him, and walked straight over to Logan, holding out his hand.

"Mayor, Bishop Tarik asked me to send his regards."

Logan hurriedly shook his hand, smiling in return. With this Night Watchman acting as his spokesman, it would be easier to move things along.

"Thank you, Mr. Abel. We still need your help investigating the truth behind the workers' strike. It may indeed involve a heretical cult.

"But for now, we intend to prioritize meeting the workers' demands and improving their treatment.

"That should keep them from being incited by the cult again."

Abel strongly agreed with the mayor. His expression turned serious.

"Mm... I arrived early and heard your speech just now, Mayor. I sympathize with them, too.

"The workers do need better treatment. And since you've already promised them, you can't go back on your word."

Ivan listened closely from the side, thinking quickly:

This Night Watchman is somewhat obsessive about following order. Could that be the Code of Conduct tied to his Order Aspect?

The Hand of Arbitration's Code of Conduct is to obey order; the Dream Awakener's is not to rely too heavily on dreams; the Whisperer's is to maintain one's own understanding and avoid being influenced by others.

It seems a Code of Conduct is directly linked to the Beyonder ability it corresponds to.

Then Diana's Code of Conduct should have something to do with punishing wrongdoing. Little George is a Shaman, so his Code of Conduct is probably to follow natural selection.

Just then, a furious shout suddenly rang out: "No! We won't agree!"

It was Rick who shouted. "Why should our factories have to pay twice as much just because you, the mayor, say so? We've already lost enough from being shut down for half a day. If wages go up again, our bosses won't let us off!"

Several other foremen chimed in, complaining over one another. Some even rolled up their sleeves, looking ready to start a fight.

They didn't know how dangerous a Night Watchman could be. All they knew was that they'd have no way to answer to the factory owners when they got back, and they were as frantic as ants on a hot pan.

Abel frowned. He had little fondness for these men, who looked like thugs, and his gaze turned cold.

In his eyes, the foremen were disrupting the order they'd worked so hard to maintain.

He took a step forward. The air around him suddenly became oppressive, and even the surrounding mist seemed to freeze.

"You said you won't agree?"

His voice was not loud, but the noisy foremen instantly fell silent, frozen in place. For some reason, a chill crept down their backs.

Rick, at the front, still wanted to say something. He had just opened his mouth when Abel snatched him up by the neck with lightning speed and lifted him into the air.

The power of the Order Aspect surged through Abel as Foreman Rick struggled and slapped at his arm.

"Ugh... ugh..."

When Rick's face began to turn blue, Abel released him. Rick landed hard on the stone road with a dull thud.

"Anyone else disagree?"

Abel slowly surveyed the crowd. The foremen were all so terrified that none of them dared utter a sound.

The factory owners would punish them when they got back, but if they spoke up now, they'd be punished on the spot!

The Captain of the Constabulary seemed to have forgotten everything that had happened. He fawningly addressed Abel:

"Heh heh, Mr. Night Watchman, these troublemakers just need to be taught a lesson. I've been saying all along that the workers' wages had to be raised, but they just wouldn't listen..."

"That's enough." Logan cut off the fat man's flattery in time. He exchanged a glance with Abel, then walked over to Little George.

"Since no one objects, I'll agree to the workers' request on behalf of the factory owners. However..."

He changed tack. Little George restrained his excitement and met Logan's gaze without cowering.

"Heh, the wages you're asking for are too high. The factories can't afford them, and even if we paid them, it wouldn't be sustainable.

"How about this? We each give a little. We'll raise the workers' wages to 16 shillings a month. That's already double the previous 8 shillings."

Little George lowered his head and pretended to think for a while. After a long pause, he nodded as though he'd made a difficult decision.

"All right, Mayor. I'll accept your terms on behalf of the workers."

"Great. The wages went up to 16 shillings. Good thing I asked for a pound, so we'd have room to bargain.

"Otherwise, under the pressure from the mayor and the Night Watchman, I don't know how much longer I could have held out in these negotiations."

He secretly rejoiced to himself, and even Ivan couldn't help nodding at his cleverness.

Little George has improved. He did very well today. Next time, I'll reward him with a complete Spirituality Remnant Corpse so he can test—cough, experience—how it enhances a Beyonder with a Gift.

Ivan quietly applauded Little George with his tentacles.

Everything seemed to be moving in a positive direction.

The foremen trudged back toward their respective factories with long faces. It was easy to imagine that after today, they would all lose their positions and become ordinary workers again.

Mayor Logan gave the Captain of the Constabulary a cold look, then returned to his office.

The Night Watchman, Abel, left with an exhausted expression and returned to St. Peter's Cathedral.

In the church's side hall, a Deacon wearing tasseled glasses stood outside the door. When he saw Abel returning from outside, he nodded and smiled in greeting.

"Mr. Abel, the Bishop is waiting for you."

Abel nodded and entered through the door the Deacon opened for him.

Bishop Tarik was still sitting in the shadows, his features indistinct.

"It's settled. The workers have all gone back, but I haven't had time to investigate the cult's incitement yet.

"Based on my experience, it was most likely some local organization stirring things up."

The Bishop gave an almost imperceptible shudder in the shadows, then nodded. His calm voice came from within.

"That's good. Abel, you've worked hard. Go back and get some rest."

Abel didn't reply. He walked back to the Clock Tower on his own.

After he left, the Deacon came in from outside and bowed toward the Bishop.

"Your Excellency, did the ritual succeed?"

Tarik slowly emerged from the shadows. A patch of darkness obscured his plump, round face, as though someone had smeared gray paint over his features.

"Of course. I've already absorbed the Spirituality that dispersed."

The shadow on his face flowed slowly as he spoke.

"Heh, the one from the Dock Gang would never have guessed that I'd altered his understanding of a tiny, insignificant piece of common knowledge from the very beginning.

"No matter how low their wages were, the workers at the Textile Factory couldn't possibly have been unable to afford food.

"If that had been the case, the factory would have stopped operating long ago. So how could they have gone on strike to demand higher wages because of food?"

A low laugh came from beneath the patch of shadow.

"Congratulations, Your Excellency, on breaking through the barrier and successfully advancing to the fourth rank, Dream Mentor."

The Deacon bowed even lower, the corners of his mouth curling up. A faint glimmer flickered behind his lenses.