"Dear Mr. ' The Fool,' please tell Mr. 'World' that I will collect the true roots and sap of the ' Mist Treant ' for him as soon as possible."
After receiving the " The Sun's" response, Klein nodded almost imperceptibly and muttered to himself:
"It seems he's quite satisfied with the weapon."
Even without environmental bonuses, the ' Hurricane Axe ' is still quite good.
He had just conveyed the characteristics and limitations of that extraordinary weapon to " the Sun " through a tangible document, without describing it directly, in order to avoid being verbose and to maintain his own image.
Having done all this, Klein didn't linger. He immediately returned to the real world, changed his clothes, and left Black Palm Street.
East Borough, Dharavi Street, a cramped but lively pub.
Xio Derecha covered her nose and mouth as she squeezed in. To her, the place was not only filled with the smell of alcohol and sweat, but also made it easy to bump into people much taller than her, forcing her to face their armpits directly, where the strong odor could knock a normal person unconscious.
After much effort, even using his " Arbiter " skills, Hugh finally managed to squeeze to the bar and see the person he was looking for.
He was a young man in his early twenties, with a long, thin face like a horse, messy and fierce eyebrows, but relatively gentle features.
He was drinking heartily, occasionally laughing and talking loudly with the guests around him.
" Williams, I need to talk to you." Hugh slammed his hand on the wooden bar counter.
This rude action immediately drew angry stares, but they quickly retreated under the stern gaze of the " Arbiter."
"Oh, Hugh, it's been so many days. Let me think... it's been a week, no, at least three weeks. Want a drink? 'Half and half'?" the young man named Williams said, half drunk and half surprised.
"Half and Half" is a popular alcoholic beverage in the East Borough, made from malt beer and fortified wine. Because the two ingredients are in roughly equal proportions, it is nicknamed "Half and Half".
"You really want me to drink?" Hugh raised an eyebrow.
"No, he doesn't want to!" The bartender, wiping glasses behind the counter, hurriedly answered for Williams.
He clearly remembered how dangerous the girl across from him was when she was drunk; she would use her fists to persuade the guests to quit drinking and then throw them out one by one.
Williams curled his lip and shrugged, saying:
"Speak, what do you want from me?"
He is one of the sources in the East Borough and has connections to multiple gangs.
Xiu frowned and said:
" Williams, can't you just quit drinking? Save up some money, marry a nice girl, and come home every day to hot water, delicious food, and warm greetings. You can share all sorts of things that happen to you with her, and she can tell you about the little things that happen at home. Plus, there are adorable children kissing your cheek and playing around you. Isn't that a wonderful kind of warmth?"
When she first arrived in Backlund, she was able to quickly establish herself in the East Borough thanks in large part to Williams' help, so she has always hoped that he would have a better life.
"Warmth?" Williams scoffed. "That's based on the money I bring home. I've seen through that. If I can bring home 20 Soli a week, then I'm sure my family is warm, as you describe. But if not, Lord, the screams and insults of women, the crying and screams of children, will drive me mad!"
"My mom is a perfect example. My Old Man always comes home with beatings and arguments. Since that's the case, I might as well use my Soli and pennies to buy alcohol. Here, nobody cares how much I earn. Everyone drinks and chats, and the atmosphere is fantastic. If I want women, there are those lovely streetwalkers outside. They won't bother you."
Xiu twitched the corner of his mouth and said:
"You're a hopeless follower of the Lord of Storms; you'll die one day from alcohol and some strange disease."
"At least I've had my fill," Williams replied nonchalantly. "I haven't worked for almost three days, I'm not giving you a discount."
Hugh stopped trying to persuade him, touched his messy short blond hair, and handed over the portraits of Lanarvus that Audrey had given him:
"Keep an eye out for this person and find him as soon as possible."
"He portrays different aspects of himself in these works."
Williams, drunk, unfolded the papers, glanced at them, and clicked his tongue, saying, "He's too ordinary-looking. There are so many people in the East Borough; people die, leave, come, and become homeless all the time. He's hard to find."
"Anyway, keep an eye out for me, and let me know immediately if you spot anyone who looks like them." Hugh pulled out a 5- Soli note and handed it to the other man. "This is for the drinks. If you find the person in the portrait, I, uh, will give you another 10 pounds."
"Ten pounds?" Williams whistled. "Hugh, when did you become so generous? Or is this guy worth more?"
"That's his reward: £10 for a clue," he replied, glancing around the tavern in his vacation attire. "Don't forget about this; I'll come back to you in a few days."
She had already traveled to almost half of the East Borough, issuing the task to gang leaders and well-informed people she knew, and had already paid out several pounds in advance.
"If I succeed even once, I can earn it all back, a lot of it!" Hugh silently encouraged himself, covered his mouth and nose, and turned to walk out of the tavern.
At this point, the argument among some of the drunks escalated into a conflict, and the scene gradually became chaotic.
Hugh glanced around helplessly, then raised his voice:
"Stop!"
The aura of authority reverberated throughout the tavern, and the drunkards, as if they had encountered their nemesis, hurriedly sat down again, some even crouching down with their heads in their hands.
"Sigh, I wonder when I'll be promoted to ' Sheriff '..." Hugh sighed, half satisfied and half expectant.
On Wednesday morning, Klein traveled to the distant St. George Borough, which seemed like another city altogether, to check on his first investment.
With his previous guidance and the inspiration from Roselle's manuscript, Leppard is making very rapid progress on the bicycle project and has already produced a rough prototype.
This is exactly the kind of bicycle Klein remembers.
After the test ride, Klein offered several suggestions for improvement, indicated that he would pay the second part of the investment next week, and hoped to bring in new investors as soon as possible so that the project could enter the factory production stage as quickly as possible.
The only problem is that Leppard considers himself the inventor and has the right to name the product.
He was dissatisfied with the term "bicycle" and planned to use the more common "pedal bike".
Klein didn't care at all.
Around noon, after returning to 15 Minsk Street, before he could even take off his hat, he heard ethereal, layered prayers.
Miss Justice? She's already gathered information on the impoverished nobles so quickly? Klein thoughtfully prepared to enter the living room and head upstairs.
Just then, he heard the doorbell ring again, turned around and opened the Door Opening, and saw Julian, the maid of the Summer next door.
"Mr. Moriarty, Mrs. Summer would like to invite you to a luncheon on Sunday. There will be quite a few neighbors there," the maid recited as if from memory.
When Klein returned last night, he gave the portable camera to Summer. Summer and exchanged a few words with her, but he did not receive any notification about the luncheon.
Indeed, the magazine said that middle-class people don't invite others to dinner in person; they formally send a servant or maid to invite them... This is very much in line with Summer. Summer's style... Klein was puzzled at first, but then understood and promised to go on time on Sunday.
Who wouldn't be happy with a free lunch? Besides, Mr. and Mrs. Summer aren't too difficult to get along with, as long as you can ignore their boasting... Klein silently added to himself.
After watching the maid Julian leave, he closed the door and headed towards the stairwell, his gaze sweeping over the slightly messy living room, dining room, and kitchen.
It's been several days since I did a thorough cleaning... For a bachelor like me, maintaining this level of tidiness is quite impressive... I have too many secrets, and I might even be attacked, so hiring a maid to live in the house isn't a good idea... Hmm... Maybe I should talk to Summer on Sunday and have her send her own maid to clean twice a week, and I'll pay her accordingly... Many tenants and landlords have similar agreements... Klein walked steadily and slowly into the second-floor bedroom and drew the curtains.
Upon entering the Gray Fog, he discovered that the prayer indeed came from Miss " Justice ".
The noblewoman sat on the piano bench, her hands on the keys, but she didn't play. Instead, she softly recited the name of " the Fool That Doesn't Belong to This Era ":
"... I have gathered all the information on the fallen nobles and request that a sacrificial ceremony be held. Please pass this on to Mr. 'World'."
Wow, so fast... As expected of a "professional"... Klein responded immediately.
Having just returned from the royal heraldic officials and experts in the field, Audrey somewhat awkwardly completed the sacrificial ceremony, tossing the thick manuscript into the illusory door.
"I will hand it over to 'The World'." Klein said indifferently, cutting off the contact.
This time, he didn't rush back to the real world. Instead, he flipped through the manuscript on the spot and found the section corresponding to the Pound Family.
The Pound family's Viscount title did indeed originate from the " War of Broken Oaths," and they were subsequently loyal supporters of the royal family, wielding considerable power in the army and their own fiefdoms.
Thirty-two years ago, two heirs of the family died of serious illnesses in succession, and the Viscount could only take in one child from a collateral branch of the family.
Not long after, the Viscount passed away. The young boy, under the influence and instigation of the servants, changed his steward and became a dissolute playboy.
In just seven or eight years, he squandered most of his fortune, was demoted to Baron, and even had to sell his family's house in Backlund.
In the years that followed, his title was reduced again, leaving him only Baron.
"Died from a serious illness? I doubt even their bodies could be found. They're all in the innermost room of that underground structure, outside that blood-soaked door... The Viscount must have intentionally concealed this, preventing the royal family, the military, and the church from investigating... So it seems the Pound Family only discovered that Quaternary underground structure by chance over thirty years ago. Perhaps, just perhaps, they were the ones who built the secret door to the basement... But, there are more than two bodies in that innermost room... In ancient times, did anyone actually go in and explore it?"
Hmm, I need to talk to Baronet Pound, but in a way that doesn't reveal my identity...
Klein paused his thoughts, looked at the last paragraph, and saw what he wanted:
" Baronet Pound, currently resides at 29 West Balam Street, Queens Borough."
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