Isaac studied Carlo. This fellow who called himself a private detective had appeared out of nowhere and, to top it off, wanted to hire him. However he looked at it, the whole thing was strange.
When Carlo saw that he had been silent for some time, he waved a hand. "Judging by your reaction, you still don't trust me. Fair enough. It's natural to hesitate. After all, anyone with half a brain would think twice when some suspicious weirdo inexplicably approached them."
"...You're very aware of how suspicious you are." Isaac was at a loss for words.
"Of course. If you didn't hesitate, I'd have to wonder if you weren't very bright." Carlo slipped his hands back into his trench coat pockets. "Anyway, I'll be staying in Palmer for a while. If you make up your mind, you can find me at Amorton Manor."
"You don't have an office?" As Isaac remembered it, private detectives like him always seemed to have an office, big or small.
"I'm in Palmer on business. My office is in Vista."
Vista. Isaac recalled the name. It was the capital of the Western Territory, the largest and most prosperous city in the whole territory. His adoptive father, Edward Lessing, had spent several years in Vista before eventually making his way to Palmer. The old professor occasionally spoke of his days living in Vista.
Isaac, however, had lived in Palmer for as long as he could remember and had never been outside the city. Travel between cities was not easy these days. The vast majority of people could never leave the city where they were born in their entire lives. Those who could travel between cities either needed to do so for work or had ample means or powerful connections.
"Well, give it some thought." Carlo's voice pulled him back from his thoughts. "You don't have to answer me now, but I'll be leaving once I'm done with my business here, so it's best not to take too long."
With that, Carlo turned and walked down the steps without waiting for Isaac's response. It was as if everything he had just said had been a casual suggestion, and he did not care in the least whether Isaac would actually come looking for him.
Isaac watched the gray figure disappear around the street corner. He looked away, glanced down at the suitcase and rolled bedding by his feet, and sighed.
His original plan had been to check the safe first and then decide what to do next. But now it seemed that registration alone would take most of the day, and he did not even have a place to stay. Carrying these things around everywhere was far too inconvenient.
And besides...
"Not everything was suitable to have the City Police Force help recover."
Isaac glanced back at the bank hall, but instead of continuing to wait to register, he picked up his suitcase and rolled bedding, turned, and walked down the steps against the flow of people.
The immediate priority was to find a place to stay... Speaking of which, that man was staying at Amorton Manor, wasn't he?
Isaac went south from Palmer's central square and turned onto a street. He stopped and looked up at the building before him.
Amorton Manor.
The building stood out on the street. Most of the surrounding homes were modest, packed neatly along both sides of the road. It alone occupied a large plot of land and even had an untended garden. The manor as a whole had a stateliness that contrasted sharply with the ordinary surroundings. Yet time had left its mark on the building: moss crept up the walls, cracked panes of glass had gone unreplaced, and the railings were covered in rust, giving it a forlorn, neglected air.
It clearly did not belong to an ordinary commoner, but it did not look much like a noble's property either. Isaac had heard about the history of Amorton Manor.
During the War of the Churches, the Amorton Family had been among Palmer's prominent nobles and had spent a great deal to build the residence. Not long afterward, however, Lord Amorton was accused of colluding with heretics. Palmer's official church declared him a heretic and ordered his entire family "purified" along with him. The residence had stood empty ever since.
Local nobles and wealthy people had been unwilling to take over a property tainted by heretics. Only many years later had a merchant from another city bought the manor cheaply and converted it into an inn.
In this era, of course, there were hardly any proper travelers. Inns mostly catered to one kind of person-freelance mercenaries.
The wilderness routes between cities were long and fraught with dangers that could cost travelers their lives. As a result, anyone who needed to cross the wilderness either brought their own guards or hired them temporarily, and the mercenary trade arose.
Mercenaries generally fell into two categories. The first consisted of organized mercenary groups, many of which had evolved into security companies. These mercenaries had organization, plans, and safeguards, and after completing a job, they would either return or stay at a local base. The second consisted of freelance mercenaries. After escorting an employer to their destination, they would find somewhere local to rest and wait for their next commission.
Amorton Manor was one of the places in Palmer that took these people in. To freelance mercenaries, Amorton Manor's heretical past was no taboo. Most of them followed faiths from various other regions, and after the Convention of the Churches, the church generally would not be overly hostile to outsiders as long as they did not infringe on the local church's sovereignty. At least, not openly.
Isaac stepped up to the entrance. The door was open, and a foul smell, mixed with all kinds of hard-to-describe elements, hit him in the face.
A counter stood to the left of the entrance, with an elderly woman sitting behind it, knitting a sweater. To the right was an open lounge, with round tables scattered about. Mercenaries sat at the tables, some drinking, some dozing. Others glanced at Isaac, then quickly looked away, probably having judged from his clothes that he had not come with a commission.
Isaac went up to the counter and set his luggage at his feet. The elderly woman glanced at him without stopping her knitting. "Looking for a room?"
"Yes, ma'am. How much do the rooms cost?"
"Single or shared?"
"Single."
The elderly woman put down her sweater and opened the register. "Five shillings a night."
Five shillings? Isaac was taken aback. It was considerably more expensive than he had expected.
Seeing his troubled expression and thinking he looked like a young man who had yet to make his way in the world, the elderly woman patiently explained, "Most of the rooms have been converted to shared ones. There are only a few single rooms altogether. If you find it too expensive, you can choose a shared room, or you can make a bed on the floor in the hall. That's five pence a night."
Isaac looked at the mercenaries sprawled about the hall, then at the suitcase and rolled bedding by his feet. "I'll take a single room after all. Just one night for now."
He took a wallet from his pocket, pulled out a five-shilling note, and laid it on the counter. The note was predominantly dark blue, with its denomination printed on one side and the Ogway Family's golden broom flower emblem on the other, symbolizing the Grand Duke of the Western Territory's guarantee of the currency's credit throughout the territory.
The elderly woman took it, held it up for a careful look, and felt the texture of the paper to check whether it was genuine. Meanwhile, Isaac casually asked, "By the way, is a gentleman named Carlo Schuster staying here?"
Ever since deciding to come to Amorton Manor, Isaac had walked fairly quickly, but he still had not seen Carlo on the way. Even so, since the man had told him to come to the manor to find him, Isaac should be able to ask at the front desk.
At that, the elderly woman checked the register again and shook her head. "No one has registered under that name."