Chapter 9: Butler

Chapter 9: Butler

At nine in the morning, in a high-end hotel in the Hillston Borough.

Klein picked up a beautifully packaged bottle of white wine and, with a smile, offered it to the elderly gentleman seated across from him.

“Mr. Asnia, thank you very much for coming to speak with me in person. This is only a small gift. Please accept it.

“I will make my decision by tomorrow at the latest. When the time comes, I may pay you a visit at your home.”

This was his tactful way of informing the other man that he had not been selected.

To be frank, Klein was actually quite satisfied with this elderly Mr. Asnia. He fit Klein’s image of a butler perfectly: precise, proper, professional, perceptive, and adept at handling all manner of troublesome affairs.

Of the three candidates, he lived the farthest away and was the oldest, yet he had arrived a full half hour early and waited patiently outside the door. Riback and Walter had only come fifteen minutes ahead of schedule.

If not for the fact that “Magic Mirror” Arrodes had hinted that the latter two carried additional leads on them, Klein felt that he would have chosen this old gentleman. After all, his main purpose was simply to borrow a butler’s network of connections so he could more easily, and more naturally, work his way into high society and come into contact with his corresponding targets.

As for the bottle of white wine, he had purchased it in advance from the Intis Serenzo Restaurant at two pounds a bottle, having considered that someone today was bound to leave disappointed after wasting carriage fare on the journey.

It would also effectively enrich the image of Dawn Dantes as a generous, refined, mysterious tycoon.

In addition, he believed one must never underestimate a butler who had come from a noble household. In the course of such a person’s professional life, he would inevitably have come to know a great number of upper-class figures, many professional butlers, and countless servants, covering all three strata of high, middle, and low society. Such people could effectively influence a gentleman’s reputation, and reputation was an essential reference for entering a higher social circle.

In this era, fifty-five-year-old Asnia’s hair had already turned rather white. His blue eyes had settled into the wisdom brought by age. He did not refuse Dawn Dantes’s gift. After receiving it and examining it briefly, he bowed with meticulous formality.

“I am very fond of this white wine from Calode. Thank you for your generosity, and allow me to praise your elegance.”

Calode? Right, the waiter mentioned it yesterday. It’s a winery in Intis’s Champagne Province, famous for producing mid-to-high-end wines, with several vintages considered top-tier… Sigh, even a butler knows more about wine than I do. Then again, Mr. Asnia said earlier that in noble and wealthy households, the wine cellar is directly managed by the butler or an assistant butler…

Does this mean I’ll need a wine cellar later? And that two-pound wines will be bottom-tier, while a 1330 Olmir red wine at 126 pounds still won’t count as the best… How much would a cellar like that cost?

The more Klein thought about it, the more stifled his chest felt. He began to suspect that the 2,888 pounds he had on him, excluding the gold coins, would not last very long.

Had it not been for the training he had undergone at the Clown stage, he would certainly have lost his composure at that moment instead of smiling as he said, “Your liking it is the greatest praise you could give me, Mr. Asnia. May I trouble you to invite Mr. Riback up from the café downstairs?”

Asnia agreed without hesitation. In less than five minutes, Riback knocked on the door and entered the room’s sitting area.

This gentleman had pale golden hair combed with great neatness. Fine lines hid at the corners of his eyes and mouth, though they were not particularly obvious. His complexion was healthy, his temperament masculine; at a glance, he seemed like the sort of butler who could accompany his master on a hunt—or even help him stand against an enemy.

After they exchanged greetings, Klein invited him to sit with a smile and went straight to the point.

“Forgive my frankness. I do not quite understand why you became Baron Syndras’s butler. Your father was the Negan family’s deputy butler. Your grandfather was a steward on one of the family estates. Many of your ancestors served the duke and his relatives until they returned to the embrace of God. You should have had a similar life trajectory.”

Under the influence of Emperor Roselle, the custom in the nations of the Northern Continent of referring to nobles by their fief and title had gradually changed into using surname and title instead, except on especially formal occasions. Of course, there were also a small number of nobles whose surnames came directly from the names of their fiefs.

Riback answered with a standard smile, “Baron Syndras is a newly ennobled noble, and he was also a friend of the old duke. Therefore, I was sent to his household to help him and his family adapt to noble life and grasp the proper etiquette.”

The old duke he referred to was the father of the current Duke Negan—Pallas Negan, who had been assassinated the previous year.

“Then why did you later leave the baron’s household?” Klein asked after some thought.

Riback said candidly, “Although Baron Syndras obtained his title through the Conservative Party, he himself is one of the kingdom’s most famous bankers, investors, and business owners, as well as one of its earliest multimillionaires. He is deeply sympathetic toward the New Party and is willing to provide them with a certain degree of assistance. This brought him into conflict with many conservative nobles, including the young duke.

“Therefore, to avoid putting the baron in a difficult position, I took the initiative to resign. In fact, he did try to persuade me to stay. He was an excellent employer.”

Klein nodded and asked instead, “You believe in the Lord of Storms?”

Riback answered solemnly, “Yes. The Lord grants us courage, zeal, and a sense of duty.”

Klein asked a few more questions concerning the duties of a butler and received detailed answers to all of them. He then smiled at Riback.

“May I trouble you to invite Mr. Walter up from the café downstairs?

“Once I have spoken with him, I will make my decision. You may wait in the café for ten minutes.”

“Of course.” Riback was not the slightest bit long-winded. He immediately stood, bowed, and took his leave, his bearing almost military.

After watching him leave and the door close, Klein sat down again, lifted his cup of black tea, and took a sip. Silently, he muttered to himself:

“If I choose him, I should be able to establish a connection with the current Duke Negan and the Conservative Party. Additional developments might even involve some details about the previous assassination…”

Before long, Walter arrived and knocked before entering.

Klein first exchanged a few pleasantries with him, then asked, “What was the conflict between you and Viscount Conrad’s butler? As you know, I must clarify this point. I cannot risk offending a noble.”

Walter had a broad forehead, glossy black hair, and serious brown eyes, though not to the point of making him seem unapproachable. After considering for a couple of seconds, he said, “As an assistant butler, I was once in charge of the viscount’s children. In the course of that duty, because of certain matters, I gained the appreciation of an important person. As a result, the viscount valued me, while the butler became wary of me.

“Later, that important person passed away unexpectedly. The viscount’s attitude toward me changed accordingly, and the butler became even less friendly. This made me believe there was no need to continue waiting for a turn of fortune.”

In charge of the viscount’s children, and came to know an important person… Hmm, Talim also met Prince Edessak while tutoring Viscount Conrad’s youngest son, and the prince died several months ago because of the Great Smog of Backlund… This fits Walter’s account… It seems this butler was an unfortunate bystander at the edge of those events.

He’s rather cautious and professional. He hasn’t exposed his employer’s faults, hasn’t leaked the matter of the prince, and has barely spoken ill of the viscount’s butler… If I choose him, the additional developments should be well worth looking forward to…

Klein listened quietly, recalling certain matters.

He then asked a few professional questions and expressed his wish to enter high society. After receiving satisfactory answers, he straightened his clothes and rose with a smile.

“Let us become acquainted anew. Dawn Dantes—your employer.”

Walter immediately bowed.

“Sir, how may I be of service?”

He continued to maintain his solemn, old-fashioned, unruffled manner, as though believing this to be a butler’s professional bearing.

“Two matters.” Klein chuckled. “First, please bring this bottle of white wine to Mr. Riback in the café downstairs and convey my apologies and gratitude. Second, invite a solicitor to draft a professional contract, including yours and those of the other servants.”

“Yes, sir.” Walter bowed once more.

As Klein handed him the bottle of Calode white wine, he casually asked, “Walter, how many servants do you believe I should employ in order not to appear improper?”

Walter took the bottle and answered without hesitation, “Sir, you should first determine where you will live. Only then can we know precisely how many servants will be required.”

“Mm. Do you have any recommendations? My requirements are simple: it must be in the North Borough. I am a devout believer of the Goddess.” Klein casually drew a crimson moon over his chest.

Judging from the information I’ve seen in newspapers and magazines, a garden villa in an upscale urban district should rent for at least three pounds a week. That would be 156 pounds a year… Although I don’t have direct data, it can be inferred. An excellent garden villa in a somewhat suburban location costs around two pounds a week, and a multi-room apartment in a high-end building is about the same. Those were described as quite luxurious, something only the upper middle class could afford. From there, I can roughly infer the rent for a tycoon’s residence…

It really is expensive. Back in Tingen, the terrace house without a garden that Benson, Melissa, and I rented was only thirteen soli a week, with an extra five pence for furniture usage. Even the house I later rented on Minsk Street wasn’t as much as one pound…

Sigh, three pounds it is. I still have 2,888 pounds. It doesn’t matter if I rent something a bit better. It doesn’t matter…

While waiting for Walter’s reply, Klein silently recalled rental information in his mind, calculating how much he would need to pay each week and each year.

Walter thought for two seconds, then answered seriously, “Sir, you may choose No. 32 Böklund Street. It is close to Saint Samuel Cathedral, a three-story house with more than ten rooms, stables, servants’ quarters, and a fairly large garden. Nearby live baronets, members of the House of Commons, senior barristers…

“The furnishings inside are very tasteful. There are many famous paintings and antiques, and all the furniture and utensils are sufficient to support your status. You may rent it for a year first, then consider purchasing it outright if you are satisfied.”

That sounds very good… Klein smiled and asked, “How much is the annual rent?”

Walter reported the figure with grave proficiency.

“Including furniture usage, 1,260 pounds per year.” (Note 1)

“…” Klein was glad he had not been drinking tea; otherwise, he would certainly have sprayed it all over his butler’s face.

He used almost every ounce of control he had as a Clown to keep his expression from changing.

Note 1: The situation regarding house rent comes from How Much Was Money Worth in the Past? and Research on Middle-Class Marriage and Family Life in Victorian Britain. The house with a rent of 1,260 pounds was rented by the Qing dynasty as an embassy; whether its price had been inflated is beyond my knowledge.