Chapter 62: The Pound Family

Chapter Sixty-Two
The Pound Family

“Honorable Mr. Fool, please tell Mr. World that I will collect the Mist Treant’s true root and sap for him as quickly as possible.”

After receiving The Sun’s reply, Klein nodded almost imperceptibly and silently muttered to himself:

“It seems he is reasonably satisfied with the weapon.

“Even without the environmental bonus, the Hurricane Axe is still quite good.”

Earlier, he had already transmitted that Beyonder weapon’s characteristics and limitations to The Sun in the form of a manifested document. He had not described them directly, so as not to seem long-winded and damage his own image.

After finishing all of that, Klein did not remain long. He immediately returned to the real world, changed clothes, and left Black Palm Street.

…

East Borough, Daravi Street. A cramped but lively tavern.

Xio Derecha covered her nose and mouth and squeezed inside. To her, this place was not only filled with the aroma of alcohol and the stench of sweat; she also easily ran into people far taller than herself, forcing her to face their armpits directly. The rich smell from there was enough to stun any normal person.

After spending a great deal of effort, even using the abilities of an Arbiter, Xio finally squeezed to the bar and saw the person she wanted to find.

He was a young man in his twenties, with a long, thin, horselike face, messy and fierce eyebrows, but comparatively soft features.

He was currently drinking in huge gulps and frequently laughing and talking loudly with the guests around him.

“Williams, I have something to ask you.”

Xio knocked heavily on the wooden bar counter.

This rough action immediately drew glare after glare, but under the stern gaze of the Arbiter, all of them silently retreated.

“Oh, Xio. I haven’t seen you in 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 spoke half drunk and half surprised.

Half-and-Half was one of the most popular alcoholic drinks in the East Borough. It was made from malt beer and wine strengthened with alcohol. Because it had exactly two ingredients in roughly equal proportions, it received the nickname Half-and-Half.

“Are you truly asking me to drink?” Xio raised an eyebrow.

“No, he is not!”

The boss behind the bar, who had been wiping glasses, hurriedly answered for Williams.

He remembered very clearly how destructive the young lady opposite him became after getting drunk. She would use her fists to persuade the guests here to quit drinking and throw them out one by one.

Williams curled the corner of his mouth and spread his hands.

“Say it. What business do you have with me?”

He was one of the East Borough’s informants and had connections with several gangs.

Xio frowned slightly.

“Williams, can you not stop drinking? Save some money, marry a decent girl, and every day when you go home, there will be hot water, dishes, and warm greetings. You can share all sorts of things you saw with her, and she will tell you the trivial matters that happened at home. There will also be lovely little children kissing your cheek and playing around you. Is that sort of warmth not good?”

When she had first arrived in Backlund, the reason she had quickly established herself in the East Borough was largely thanks to Williams’s help. Because of that, she had always hoped he could live better.

“Warmth?”

Williams gave a scornful laugh.

“That is built on the money I bring back. I have long seen through it. If I could bring home twenty soli every week, then I am certain my family would be warm, just like what you described. But if I cannot? Lord above, the woman’s screams and curses, the children’s crying and howling—they would drive me mad!

“My mother was the perfect example. Every time my old man came home, there was fighting, yelling, and cursing. Since it is like that, I might as well spend the soli and pence on me for alcohol. Here, no one cares how much I earn. Everyone drinks and chats, and the atmosphere is very, very good. If I want a woman, the lovely streetwalkers are outside. They will not quarrel with me.”

The corner of Xio’s mouth twitched.

“You really are a hopeless believer of the Lord of Storms. One day, you will die from alcohol and some strange disease.”

“At least I have enjoyed myself.”

Williams answered without the slightest concern.

“I have not worked for nearly three days. I will not give you a discount.”

Xio no longer tried to persuade him. She touched her messy short blond hair and handed over the Lanevus portraits Audrey had given her.

“Help me keep an eye out for this person. Find him as soon as possible.

“There are different appearances of him inside.”

Williams drunkenly unfolded the papers, glanced at them a few times, and clicked his tongue.

“He looks far too ordinary. And there are so, so many people in the East Borough. Every moment, people die, people leave, people come, and people become tramps. Finding him will be hard.”

“In any case, keep an eye out. If you discover anyone similar, notify me immediately.”

Xio took out a five-soli note and handed it to him.

“This is drinking money. If you can find the person in the portraits, I, uh, will give you another ten pounds.”

“Ten pounds?”

Williams whistled.

“Xio, since when were you so generous? Or is this person worth even more?”

“That is his bounty. Ten pounds for providing clues.”

Xio pretended to look around at the tavern’s environment as she answered.

“Do not forget this. I will come look for you every few days.”

She had already run through a small half of the East Borough, issuing this task to gang leaders and well-informed people she knew, and had paid out several pounds in advance.

As long as one succeeds, I can earn it back—and earn a lot!

Xio silently encouraged herself, covered her mouth and nose, turned around, and walked out of the tavern.

At that moment, a quarrel among certain drunkards turned into a conflict, and the scene gradually became chaotic.

Xio helplessly swept her gaze over them and raised her voice.

“Stop!”

That dignified feeling echoed through the tavern. The drunkards seemed to have met their natural enemy. They hurriedly sat back down, while some even crouched on the ground holding their heads.

Hoo. I wonder when I will be able to advance to Sheriff…

Xio sighed, half satisfied and half expectant.

…

On Thursday morning, Klein made a trip to distant Saint George Borough, so far away it felt like another city, to check on his first investment.

With his previous pointers and the inspiration from Roselle’s manuscript, Leppard had progressed extremely quickly on the bicycle project. He had already produced a crude prototype.

It was already very consistent with the bicycle in Klein’s memory.

After trying it out, Klein provided several more suggestions for improvement. He said he would come next week to pay the second portion of the investment and hoped they could soon introduce new investors, allowing the project to enter the factory-production stage as quickly as possible.

The only issue was that Leppard believed he was the inventor and had the right to name the product.

He was dissatisfied with the name “bicycle” and planned to use the more popular “pedal cycle.”

Klein did not care at all.

Around noon, after returning to 15 Minsk Street, he had not yet taken off his hat when he heard illusory, layered prayers.

Miss Justice? She gathered the information on ruined nobles this quickly?

Thoughtfully, Klein prepared to enter the sitting room and head to the second floor.

Just then, he also heard the doorbell. He quickly turned back, opened the door, and saw Julian, the maid from the neighboring Sammer household.

“Mr. Moriarty, Madam Sammer would like to invite you to Sunday luncheon. There will be quite a few neighbors present,” the maid recited.

After returning last night, Klein had already given the portable camera to Madam Sammer and chatted with her briefly, but he had received no hint of a luncheon.

That makes sense. The magazines say that when the middle class invites someone to a meal, they do not mention it face to face. They formally send an attendant or maid to the door with an invitation… That is very much Madam Sammer’s style…

Klein first felt confused, then immediately understood. He agreed to arrive on time Sunday.

A free lunch—who would not be happy? Besides, Mr. and Madam Sammer are not especially hard to get along with, as long as one can ignore their showing off…

Klein silently added inside his heart.

After watching the maid Julian leave, he shut the front door and walked toward the stairs. Along the way, his gaze swept over the slightly messy sitting room, dining room, and kitchen.

I have not done a thorough cleaning in several days… For a single man, being able to maintain this level of cleanliness is already not bad… I have too many secrets, and I may encounter attacks at any time, so specifically hiring a maid-of-all-work to live at home is not very good. Uh… perhaps on Sunday I can discuss this with Madam Sammer, and ask her to send one of her maids over twice a week to clean. I can pay the corresponding compensation… Many tenants and landlords have similar arrangements…

With steady steps, neither fast nor slow, Klein entered the second-floor bedroom and drew the curtains shut.

After entering above the gray fog, he discovered that the prayer indeed came from Miss Justice.

This noble girl sat on a piano stool, both hands resting on the keys, but she was not playing. Instead, she softly recited the honorific name of “The Fool that does not belong to this era.”

“…I have finished collecting the information on ruined nobles. I request to perform the sacrificial ritual and ask You to pass it on to Mr. World.”

So fast… As expected of someone “professional”…

Klein immediately gave a response.

Audrey, having just returned from the royal officer of arms and experts who researched such matters, somewhat clumsily completed the sacrificial ritual and threw the thick stack of manuscripts into the illusory door.

“I will pass it on to The World.”

With an indifferent tone, Klein cut off the connection.

This time, he did not 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 come from the Oathbreaker War. Afterward, they were loyal supporters of the royal family and possessed considerable influence in the military and their own fief.

But thirty-two years ago, two heirs of the family died of severe illness in succession. The old viscount of that time could only take in a child from a collateral branch.

Not long afterward, the old viscount passed away. Because that child was not very old, under the temptation and instigation of attendants, he replaced the butler and became a wastrel.

In only seven or eight years, he had squandered most of the family estate and was demoted to baron. Even the family’s house in Backlund was sold.

In the years that followed, his title was lowered again, leaving him only as a baronet.

“Died of severe illness? I am afraid their bodies could not even be found. They are all in that innermost room of the underground structure, outside that bloody door… The old viscount must have deliberately hidden the matter and prevented the royal family, military, and Churches from investigating… Looking at it this way, the Pound family only accidentally discovered that Fourth Epoch underground structure thirty-some years ago. Perhaps—perhaps the hidden door in the basement was built by them… But there were more than two corpses in that innermost room… In ancient times, other people also entered and explored?”

Mm. I need to chat with Baronet Pound in a way that does not expose my identity…

Klein stopped thinking and looked toward the final section, where he saw the content he wanted:

“Baronet Pound currently rents 29 Sivellaus Street, Queen’s Borough.”