The Silverfish Trade

Gordon and the count went to look at the Silver Fish Casket.

The Silverfish Casket sat in the display cabinet, still weeping. After Gordon had taken away the black velvet that day, Evans had replaced it with a tray. Some translucent liquid had already pooled in it, and now Gordon finally had time to settle down and examine it closely.

[Silver Fish Casket. A breathing vessel.]

[Amniotic fluid of the Womb. A sickly transparent liquid. You are not its intended recipient.]

A flicker of excitement passed through Gordon. A womb meant an environment for breeding. Amniotic fluid meant something enveloping a life not yet fully formed. Coupled with the casket's almost breathlike cycle of dripping, it seemed to be gestating something.

"That liquid is..." The count frowned deeply.

"It has a luring effect on nearby Deepclaw Demons, but its range, duration, and risks are all unclear," Gordon said.

"Luring?"

"Yes. All this time, it's been attracting Deepclaw Demons beneath this house. I've confirmed how its effect travels. It's the primary source," Gordon said.

"So you think the Silverfish Casket is the heart of the problem with the ancestral house. Killing all those Deepclaw Demons won't help, because more things will come." The count seized on the key point.

"If it stays in the ancestral house, yes," Gordon said. "There are far fewer Deepclaw Demons for now, but that won't make the Blackwater River any cleaner. Sooner or later, something new will catch the scent, and next time, it probably won't just be Deepclaw Demons..."

Evans had returned to the collection room by then.

"Do you remember when I acquired it?" The count gazed at the Silverfish Casket.

"In 3E335, in the Blair Lock District," Evans said. "You bought it twenty years ago, my lord. You paid 550 gold pounds for it."

550 gold pounds!

Gordon felt a jolt. He had thirty-five gold pounds and already felt his fortunes were beginning to change. Yet this palm-sized box had been worth 550 gold pounds twenty years ago.

"...Ah, I remember now. There was an accident in the Blair Lock District that year. Quite a few old buildings collapsed," the count recalled. "People found all sorts of things in the ruins, some perhaps older than this city. Real or fake, many were dressed up as antiques by secondhand dealers and auctioned off. This was one of them."

"What's... inside it?" Gordon asked.

"Nothing," the count gave an answer Gordon had not expected.

The count clearly misunderstood his silence.

"-I did not order anyone to remove anything," Count Montfort said coldly. "It was empty when I bought it. There was nothing inside. I'm beginning to dislike it."

"You also mentioned an accident?"

"An earthquake. As you know, Lundenim and earthquakes are rarely mentioned in the same breath, so people also wondered whether something had exploded. Nobody knows," the count said.

"The Silverfish Casket was in excellent condition at the time," Evans added. "It only began... weeping recently."

Things did not change their condition for no reason. Either the environment had changed, or someone had tampered with it.

"In my opinion, we need to establish which servants have touched it recently," Gordon said. "The sooner, the better."

"I'll look into it and check the servant roster." Evans nodded.

"Especially anyone responsible for cleaning, moving things, or making repairs in the collection room. Anyone authorized to enter. Also check whether there have been any new hires recently, whether anyone was dismissed, whether anyone suddenly paid off their debts or started spending money," Gordon said.

"Understood." Evans grasped his meaning. However mysterious an event might be, in the real world, it still had to pass through a pair of human hands.

"Then I'd like to take it away," Gordon told the count.

The count frowned.

This time, he did not speak immediately.

"It's worth 550 gold pounds," the count said.

"I know."

"No, you don't." The count smiled.

"Yes, honestly, when I hear '550 gold pounds,' all I can think is that it must be a lot of money. But this certainly isn't about money anymore. As long as it stays here, you'll have to keep calling hunters in."

No, hunters are no good, the count thought. He certainly did not want to see Vera eat through all his provisions or endure Arthur Gray's arrogance. Essence Hunters were all lunatics. The farther they stayed from his home, the better.

"Hand it over to the university?"

"The university would certainly be better. We have security personnel, science, laboratories, and analytical equipment. And we could call it academic sponsorship-the Montfort Family supporting our university's cutting-edge research into the Blackwater River problem. My lord, when His Majesty asks about the Blackwater River, you can say the Montfort Family has already begun shouldering the nation's burdens. This box would be a start, one that puts you ahead of everyone else."

The count was very pleased.

The young man had finally brought the conversation around to something that interested him.

In truth, after all that talk, he merely wanted a respectable excuse.

"The only problem is that I cannot give away a registered piece from my collection for nothing. I did buy it, after all. You need to give me something of equal value, young man. Something that can shine here," the count said.

Gordon thought for a moment. What could he put on display here?

Really, he felt the Montfort household lacked nothing except things with unique value.

It needed a story and a good presentation, something that would let the count give his guests that look that said, You certainly don't have one of these at home.

As he considered it, he soon thought of the perfect thing.

"Leave it to me. I have the perfect piece for your collection. It's worthy of this room, and it won't weep." Gordon smiled.

"Please bring it as soon as possible." The count had already lost patience with the casket.

Gordon needed to return to the university to fetch it.

Charlotte stood on the steps. She had changed back into her uniform and tied up her long, pale-blond hair again. The white bow over her full bust looked particularly lovely.

When she saw Gordon, she casually lowered her head to straighten her gloves. The gloves were clearly innocent; there had been nothing wrong with them.

Vera came out and said she was going to find somewhere to stay.

That sounded like a perfectly normal plan, but Gordon felt she merely wanted to find a cheap corner where she could eat without being chased away.

"If you need to find me, go to the biomedical building at the Royal Academy of Natural Sciences University," Gordon said. "At night, go to the dissection room and look for the person sleeping beside the corpses. If there are a lot of corpses, look for the one that's breathing."

"Got it." Vera turned to leave. "I remember your scent."

The Professional Hunter Gray was also waiting for a carriage.

He had charged the count twenty gold pounds for a consultation and accomplished nothing. Now he could only stand beside a university student on White Elm Road, waiting for a carriage. It left his professional pride with nowhere to go.

He watched Vera walk away.

"Do you know Vera Cateret?" Gray asked.

"I've known her for two days," Gordon said.

"Two days, and you already dare associate with her?"

"Does your profession have a probationary period, then?"

"...Vera Cateret isn't an ordinary hunter," Gray said. "She advanced very quickly. An Apprentice needs at least six months between finishing training and being ready for a field placement. I took four months. She took about the same, and I know that isn't easy. She can handle an adult Aberrant alone. Her reflexes, physical ability, and judgment in close combat are all excellent. That's very rare among Low-Tier Hunters."

"That all sounds positive."

"No. Surely you can tell that 'Gluttony' doesn't mean a big appetite." Gray sneered. "She indiscriminately refines source substance into herself, causing conflicts between the source substances in her body. That process constantly drains her energy. People like that have no regard for their own lives, and their bodies really can hold out for two or three years. But a long-term partnership is another matter. You'll have to find her work, clean up after her, feed her, and face the day she loses control."

"..." Gordon looked thoughtful. "So if someone can clean up after her and control the source substance conflicts in her body, she has limitless potential."

"That's your decision." Gray gave Gordon a searching look. "Most importantly, relationships between Essence Hunters aren't held together by gold pounds. If you simply think she's pretty and want to spend some time with her, you're sorely mistaken. Only Essence Hunters attract one another, and only the fates of Essence Hunters intertwine. You need a source substance in your own body, too! And that's not something a university student like you can dream of."