Chapter 223: Klein’s Request

Chapter 223: Klein’s Request

Seeing the glass of Southville beer, topped with fine white foam, placed before Sherlock Moriarty, Carlson finally came to his senses.

Once the bartender moved away, he lowered his voice and asked, “What do you want?”

Klein lifted the glass, took a sip, and spent a few seconds savoring the malt fragrance that surged forth after the bitterness, as well as the faint sweetness that followed.

“Cheers!” He turned his head toward Carlson, smiled, and raised the glass slightly.

Carlson shook his head without the slightest hesitation, refusing his invitation as he muttered, “Yours is beer. Mine is strong distilled liquor. They aren’t suitable for a toast.”

Klein had only been making the gesture anyway. He took another sip of Southville beer, looked ahead, and chuckled.

“What I want is very simple.

“I do not know what will be inside the mausoleum, so I can only describe it rather vaguely. Mm… I hope to be able to choose one item from whatever you obtain while exploring the mausoleum. I am not greedy. This will not involve high-level items. Even if such things really exist, I would not dare ask for them.

“If you find nothing, or if the only things there are high-level items, then I want nothing. Of course, should the latter situation occur, I believe you will surely not be stingy about giving me a sum of cash that matches my contribution.”

Ever since he had learned of the Amon family mausoleum from Miss Sharron the previous day, Klein had already formed a rough plan.

The first option was to blow the copper whistle, contact Mr. Azik, and explore the mausoleum together with him.

However, that plan had many potential problems. First, Klein had no idea how much strength Azik, who was still seeking his memories, had recovered. Second, Azik was currently being sought by MI9. Contacting him rashly could easily bring trouble to both of them. Third, Klein would very likely reenter Sealed Artifact 0-08’s line of sight because of it. Of course, he had considered the possibility of using the gray fog to complete both the contact and the exploration, but the fact that blowing the copper whistle above the gray fog could not summon the messenger at all had completely blocked every follow-up idea.

More importantly, Klein still did not dare, nor did he wish to, expose the secret above the gray fog to Azik Eggers, whose true identity remained unclear.

Therefore, he ultimately chose the second option: use his identity as an informant, submit the intelligence to the Machinery Hivemind, and request a corresponding, reasonable reward.

When it came to the number of High-Sequence powerhouses, could any force have more than the seven major Churches?

As far as Klein knew, the Church of the Evernight Goddess had nearly ten High-Sequence powerhouses. In other words, of the thirteen archbishops and nine senior deacons, close to half had reached or surpassed Sequence 4. This did not even include the Goddess’s Blessed or His Holiness the Pope, who governed the Church.

Even if the Church of the God of Steam and Machinery was slightly inferior in that regard, the difference would not be too great. Their Backlund diocese’s Archbishop, Horamick Haydn, was himself a High-Sequence powerhouse.

And a well-accumulated orthodox Church like this would not be very, very, very concerned about mid-Sequence items. Klein believed he had a chance to negotiate a reasonable “price.”

To put it simply, the core point of the second plan was:

When in trouble, find the organization!

Hearing the price Klein named, Carlson froze for one second and blurted out, “Aren’t you a believer of God?”

The one who has always lived in my heart is the Goddess… Klein drew a triangular sacred emblem over his chest.

“It is precisely because I believe in God that I am telling you this news, rather than revealing it to the Nighthawks through Mr. Stanton.

“God said, ‘Those who strive to strengthen themselves shall be made strong.’ Only when I become stronger and possess more money will I be able to contact more channels and grasp more resources, thereby providing you with better and more effective intelligence.”

In order to persuade the Machinery Hivemind, he had specially flipped through the Steam and Machinery Bible he had previously bought to decorate his image, found a few divine quotes that suited his needs, and earnestly memorized them.

For a moment, Carlson actually found himself unable to refute him. He stood there dazed, forgetting to drink.

Seeing this, Klein hurriedly added another sentence:

“And this will help you establish a harmonious and efficient new-era relationship with informants. As long as you publicize the reward I received for this, as well as the fact that you kept your promise and never went back on your word, I believe other informants will certainly be deeply moved and greatly encouraged. They will exert all their strength to gather useful intelligence for you.

“Of course, when you publicize it, I hope you use my alias.”

Carlson listened with a blank face. He picked up his glass, gulped down a large mouthful, and nearly choked.

“Cough. Sherlock, the real you is completely different from the impression I had of you before,” he said with emotion.

In his memory, Detective Sherlock Moriarty was skilled in analysis and deduction, extremely calm, exceedingly polite, and filled with a sense of justice as he provided very effective suggestions. He was an outstanding believer of God.

But the other man now…

Klein drank a mouthful of beer and gave a low laugh.

“Everyone has different sides. It is very easy to make mistakes if one uses a single side to replace the whole. This is something one must pay attention to while reasoning.”

After calming down for a while, Carlson stood.

“I do not have the authority to agree to a request like this. I will report it immediately. Wait here for a while.”

“All right.” Klein beckoned the bartender and ordered a serving of fried potato waffles.

By the time he unhurriedly finished the food and drained his beer, Machinery Hivemind Deacon Ikanser Bernard had returned to the bar with Carlson.

“There is no problem with your request, but one condition must be added: items with strong negative effects or curse effects are not among the options you may choose,” Ikanser said in a deep voice after looking around and confirming that there were few people nearby.

What I want is material… Klein immediately smiled.

“Agreed!

“May I ask one more question? Is this your personal decision, or a response from above?”

“I have the authority to make such a decision.” Ikanser pressed his hat down over his fluffy hair. “However, since this matter involves a noble mausoleum from the Fourth Epoch, I did send a telegram to the archbishop. He did not object in his reply.”

“All right.” Klein once again drew a triangular sacred emblem. “I will now tell you the intelligence.”

Ikanser instinctively shook his head.

He looked left and right, pointed to a billiards room, and said, “Let’s go inside first.”

This deacon, who is always publicly executed by that mirror called Arrodes, is still very experienced… Klein muttered inwardly, then followed Ikanser and Carlson into the billiards room and made sure the rooms on either side were empty.

After pausing for a few seconds, Klein considered his wording and said, “Here is what happened. A Beyonder discovered a hidden mausoleum near a bend of the Stafford River in White Cliff Town. They explored the outer region and found some items.

“Afterward, they recruited others to carry out a deeper exploration, and none of them ever returned. If you go there and search carefully, you will definitely find the corresponding traces.”

Ikanser listened seriously and asked, “Can it be confirmed as a noble mausoleum from the Fourth Epoch?”

“The items from the outer region prove that it belonged to a member of the Amon family from the Tudor Dynasty,” Klein answered truthfully, then gave a reminder. “The Beyonders who died inside were not weak, and there were quite a number of them. In my opinion, this mausoleum cannot be explored by anyone below High Sequence.”

“Amon…” Ikanser instinctively furrowed his brow.

It was clear that, as a deacon, he had the authority to know certain ancient secrets.

Without waiting for Klein to emphasize it again, he raised his gaze and said, “We will first gather the corresponding materials before taking action.

“A noble mausoleum from the Fourth Epoch is extremely dangerous. Do not tell anyone else this information, and do not explore it yourself. Otherwise, you and your friends will only lose your lives.”

If I dared, I wouldn’t be sitting here… Klein laughed self-mockingly and said, “My credibility has always been excellent.”

After completing the transaction and watching Ikanser and Carlson leave, he put on his hat and unhurriedly walked out of the Lucky Bar.

Regarding the great nobles of the Fourth Epoch and the Amon family, the Machinery Hivemind is quite cautious. They’ll need at least several days of preparation before taking action… Cautious… Klein’s wandering thoughts suddenly froze on one word.

He remembered another matter that could be called cautious:

After Roselle joined the ancient organization suspected to be the Twilight Hermit Order, he had never mentioned that organization’s name in the secret diary he wrote in Chinese. Every time, he had referred to it by describing its characteristics instead.

This was so cautious it made one suspicious!

Why didn’t Emperor Roselle dare mention that organization’s name, even in Chinese? How was that consistent with the style of his diary, where he dared record practically anything? What was he afraid of? What was he worried about? Could it be that as long as one says or writes the name “Twilight Hermit Order,” no matter what language is used, they will know? Does a certain member of theirs, or a certain Sealed Artifact they possess, have a similar ability? Klein formed a guess, though he had no way to confirm it unless he was willing to take the risk of trying.

First, assume it is true. The reason I was not sensed by them was because I channeled the Apostle of Desire above the gray fog, and when I told Miss Justice, it was also while responding to her prayer through the gray fog… Mm, Monday is almost here again. I need to remind Miss Justice at the Tarot Gathering not to speak or record the name “Twilight Hermit Order.” As for the reason, I’ll give her a look and let her figure it out herself… Klein soon made his follow-up arrangement and strode away from the Lucky Bar.

Seeing that it was still early, he directly took a carriage to the Krag Club, intending to while away the afternoon there.

As soon as he entered the hall, he saw the riding instructor Talim Dumont.

This descendant of nobility sat in a corner, holding a glass of crimson wine. His face was rosy, his spirits high as he sampled it.

“Talim, you seem to be in a very good mood.” Klein greeted him with a smile.

Talim chuckled.

“That’s because the New Year is almost here.”

After saying that, he asked rather excitedly, “Sherlock, do you know what it feels like to truly like someone?”

…Klein revealed a fake smile.

“My apologies. I’m still single.”

“What a pity. All right, I have things to do.” Talim drained the remaining wine, rose, and waved.

“Oh, right. Thank you for introducing Mr. Framy Cage,” Klein said sincerely, remembering the bicycle-project investment. “When will you be free recently? I’d like to ask you to take me to sample Backlund’s delicacies.”

“After the New Year.” Talim put on his hat and walked toward the reception hall with a beaming smile.

Has this fellow entered the season of love? Klein could not help muttering.

He had just turned and walked a few steps when he suddenly heard the heavy sound of someone falling to the ground.

Klein abruptly turned his head and saw Talim Dumont lying on the floor, his left hand clutching tightly at the position of his heart, his body constantly convulsing.

This… Klein rushed over in several steps.

But by then, Talim was already foaming at the mouth, losing the last breath of life.

In the space of only a few seconds, the man who had just been full of spring warmth had become a corpse.