Chapter 52: Spectator

Chapter Fifty-TwoSpectator

“Do not think about that damned bill anymore. Let us discuss ritual magic.”

With an easy expression, Old Neil began putting away the candles, cauldron, silver knife, and other objects.

Klein very much wanted to shrug like an American from his previous life, but in the end he restrained the ungentlemanly motion.

He turned his attention back to ritual magic itself, asking one detailed question after another about the points that had puzzled him. Each received a sufficiently clear answer. For example, incantations all followed a certain structure. As long as that structure was satisfied, and the key meaning was clearly expressed in Hermes, the rest could be improvised. Naturally, blasphemous descriptions, or descriptions lacking sufficient reverence, were absolutely forbidden.

This mysticism lesson continued all the way until noon, when Old Neil coughed softly twice and said, “We must return to Zouteland Street.”

At that point, he muttered something indistinctly:

“To collect those damned materials, I missed my lovely breakfast.”

Amused and puzzled, Klein looked left and right.

“Mr. Neil, do you not have a cook at home? Or a maid responsible for cooking?”

A weekly salary of twelve pounds was more than enough to support several servants.

According to the newspapers, if lodging and food were provided, hiring an ordinary cook required only twelve to fifteen soli a week—not even one pound. A maid-of-all-work was cheaper still, only three soli and six pence to six soli a week. Of course, one could hardly expect their cooking to be any good.

Uh. No, that is not quite right. Given that Mr. Neil is still in debt for thirty pounds, not hiring a cook or servants is normal…

I seem to have asked another question I should not have asked…

Just as Klein began regretting it, Old Neil shook his head without the slightest concern.

“I often attempt ritual magic at home, and study extraordinary items and the corresponding documents. I cannot, and will not, hire ordinary people as cooks, footmen, or maids. I only have people come by regularly to clean. And if they were not ordinary people, do you think they would be willing to do that kind of work?”

“I seem to have asked a foolish question. Perhaps that is because I would not do things involving the mysterious at home,” Klein said, explaining with self-mockery.

Old Neil had already stood and put on his round-brimmed felt hat. As he walked toward the door, he mumbled, “I seem to smell pan-fried goose liver… Once that bill is completely resolved, I must have a proper portion! At noon, I could surely eat an entire piece of roast pork with apple sauce. No, that would not be enough. There must also be a sausage with mashed potatoes…”

Now you have made me hungry too…

Klein swallowed and hurried after Old Neil toward the nearby public carriage stop.

When they returned to Zouteland Street, Old Neil had only just stepped down from the carriage when he suddenly gave a soft “hm.”

“What do I see? Goddess above, what do I see?”

All at once, he became as agile as a seventeen- or eighteen-year-old youth. He darted to the roadside and picked up something.

Klein approached in confusion. Looking closely, he discovered it was a finely made wallet.

With his eyesight and experience, it was difficult to distinguish whether the dark-brown wallet was made of cowhide or sheepskin. He only noticed a small light-blue coat of arms embroidered on its surface: above the crest, a white dove spread its wings as if about to fly.

That was the first impression Klein received. From the second glance onward, however, his gaze was glued to the thick stack of banknotes swelling the wallet.

They were gray-based, black-patterned gold pounds—at least twenty of them!

Old Neil opened the wallet, drew out the notes, examined them carefully, and immediately gave a soft laugh.

“Ten-pound notes. The respected Founder, the Protector, William I. Oh, Goddess above, a full thirty of them. There…