Chapter 70: Interaction

Chapter 70: Interaction

Backlund Steam Train Station, Platform Three.

After Alfred conversed for a while with his parents and younger sister, he seized the gap before departure, left the train, came onto the platform, and said to an attendant,

“Give me an East Balam cigarette.”

If his experiences over the years had left him with any negative effects, then apart from some mental torment and pain, only a few bad habits remained.

After smoking too many “East Balam cigarettes,” which were made by directly wrapping spices and herbs in roasted tobacco leaves, Alfred had become completely unable to adapt to the paper cigarettes popular on the Northern Continent. He considered them thin and tasteless, like strong alcohol mixed with water.

As for cigars, he believed those required a good environment in which to slowly savor them, and that was unsuitable right now.

Of course, his addiction to smoking was not great. A Retribution Knight possessed enough physical and mental strength to resist that kind of influence. The reason Alfred had come to the platform to smoke was that he felt the carriage was too stuffy, and his mother kept bringing up the matter of his marriage.

After his attendant took out an East Balam cigarette and lit it, Alfred brought the nearly black, burnt-yellow object to his mouth and deeply inhaled.

The strong flavor seeped into his body, making his mind suddenly sharpen.

At that moment, he saw a blond man like a classical sculpture walking over with a personal valet.

Alfred hesitated, then smiled, raised his right hand, and said,

“Hibbert, I thought you would not return to East Chester.”

The newcomer was none other than Earl Hall’s eldest son, Alfred’s brother, Lord Hibbert Hall.

Hibbert outlined a smile that perfectly conformed to etiquette.

“I am only a cabinet secretary, not the chief cabinet secretary. I am not busy enough to have no weekends at all.”

In truth, he would not become chief cabinet secretary either. His main goal was to accumulate experience in different positions across multiple government departments, build up his own network of connections, and prepare to enter the House of Lords in the future.

Alfred took another drag from his East Balam cigarette and said with a smile,

“Have a pleasant weekend.”

After watching Hibbert enter the carriage, Alfred vaguely sensed someone looking in his direction and talking:

“Why are no passengers waiting for that train?”

“It doesn’t seem full.”

“Haha, that is a private train. A major figure spent quite a few gold pounds to book it in advance. I know, you may not have seen anything like it before, but remember this. In Backlund and Constant and other large cities, this happens from time to time. When those major figures travel with their families, they are certainly followed by hundreds of servants, perhaps even pets. How could they squeeze into a train with ordinary people…”

“So that’s how it is…”

“I wonder which major figure it is.”

Alfred turned his head and looked over. On Platform Two, he saw several dozen people in grayish-blue uniforms quietly observing this side across the tracks where no train was currently parked.

The distance between the two sides was actually not small. Had Alfred’s hearing not been exceptional, he would certainly have been unable to understand what those people were discussing.

“Who are they?” Alfred turned his head and asked his adjutant.

He could only recognize that the uniforms those people wore belonged to the railway company.

The adjutant immediately turned around, found the staff member responsible for this platform, and asked some questions.

Soon, he trotted back and said quietly to Alfred,

“General, they are train dispatchers from across the kingdom. They are undergoing short-term training in Backlund.”

Alfred nodded slightly and looked again at Platform Two.

Among those train dispatchers, the oldest already had graying hair, while the youngest seemed only in his early twenties. Most were middle-aged men in their thirties or forties, and quite a few had slightly graying temples.

…

Sonia Sea, Bayam, the City of Generosity.

Carrying a suitcase that contained nothing valuable, Verdu took a small boat out of the harbor at night and boarded a pirate ship.

—Sequence 7 of the Apprentice pathway was not especially good at combat. Although Verdu carried mystical items, he was very afraid of their negative effects and would not use them unless it was a critical moment. Therefore, in order to avoid danger, and because he lacked trust in pirates, he tried not to bring anything likely to arouse others’ greed.

A pirate on deck swept him a glance and laughed with a tsk.

“No need to be afraid. We are all very trustworthy. As long as you pay enough for your ticket, we definitely will not throw you into the sea. Here, you might even be safer than aboard a passenger ship. At least you don’t have to worry about encountering pirates.”

Seeing Verdu remain silent, appearing somewhat afraid, the pirate smugly tossed him a key.

“Second level above deck. The innermost room.”

Verdu caught the brass-colored key, entered the cabin, climbed a flight of stairs, and followed the corridor toward the deepest part.

This level seemed specially prepared for people who took pirate ships for all kinds of reasons. Along the way, Verdu encountered several passengers who did not look like pirates at all.

Among them was a lady whose clothing was slightly revealing, like a streetwalker; a middle-aged man with a protruding belly and an oily face; and an extremely cold young man in a trench coat and top hat.

“Want to stay in my room?” The lady saw Verdu looking over and asked with a charming smile. It was impossible to tell whether she planned to do a little business on the way, or travel on the way while doing business.

Verdu ignored her, withdrew his gaze, and arrived outside his own room.

The young man with deep features and cold, hard lines also stopped before the door diagonally opposite.

…

Backlund, West Borough, 9 Bellotto Street.

“Come in.” Xio straightened from her wide chair.

With a creak, the office door opened, and two MI9 members belonging to Xio’s team walked in.

“Colonel, we have made some progress in the investigation of Utopia.” One man wearing a dark jacket handed a report to Xio.

As Xio felt a start of surprise, her spirit lifted.

“What is it?”

The man in the dark jacket briefly said,

“Over the past few days, taking advantage of the gap after the previous mission had already been handed over, we personally visited the passengers on that steam train and also used informants to do so—the passengers in Backlund, that is.”

Without a doubt, he was referring to the steam train that had mistakenly stopped at Utopia.

“Mm.” Xio nodded, signaling for her subordinate to continue.

The man in the dark jacket pointed at the report.

“We have preliminarily confirmed that the passengers who successfully arrived in Backlund all show no abnormalities. Their mental states are good, and their cognition also has no problems.

“However, we discovered one thing. At the time, not everyone returned to the train. According to two passengers, one of their seatmates chose to remain in Utopia.

“She was a lady who loved traveling and exploration. She had deep affection for unfamiliar places. After experiencing Utopia’s excellent red wine, desserts, and unique sparkling iced tea, she decided to abandon her original itinerary and spend more time in that city with a unique temperament, digging out more of its beauty.

“All of this came from what the two passengers learned while chatting with her. They not only shared the same row of seats, but also chose the same hotel and met in the morning.

“That hotel was the same one where our intelligence operative stayed. It was called the Iris Inn.”

Xio slowly nodded.

“Have you investigated that lady’s current situation?”

“What is her name?”

“No. We cannot confirm whether she has already left Utopia.” Another MI9 member, who had a small goatee, answered. “Those two passengers only know that the lady was named Monica. They do not know her surname or background.”

Xio gave an “Mm.”

“Your next mission is to investigate this lady’s background, find her family and friends, and confirm whether she has returned.”

“Yes, Colonel.” The two MI9 members saluted and left Xio’s office.

Xio carefully read through the report they had submitted once more, then silently sighed.

Compared with her subordinates, she was actually closer to the truth of Utopia and already knew it was a ritual with a certain connection to Gehrman Sparrow.

However, she had no way to report that information upward to earn merit.

Leaving aside the problem of the intelligence source, what Xio most needed to consider was whether Gehrman Sparrow wished this information to leak.

Perhaps I can try contacting Gehrman Sparrow and ask his opinion… Thoughtfully, Xio tidied up her desk and left MI9.

After changing her outfit, she returned to the East Borough and the Bridge area, heading to different bars like a bounty hunter and gathering various pieces of information from different acquaintances.

During this process, she casually asked about Utopia as well, but no one had heard of it.

Finally, Xio entered a bar in the Backlund Bridge area. She sat on a high stool by the counter and said to the bartender,

“Have there been any suspicious people recently?”

“Quite a few people are suspicious, but they have no bounty on them,” the bartender replied casually.

Xio used that topic to inquire about information. At the end, following procedure, she asked,

“Have you heard of Utopia?”

“I have,” the bartender answered while wiping a glass.

Xio’s gaze, which had been examining the counter, slowly lifted.

Looking at the bartender, she asked,

“Where did you hear of it?”

“A customer came in earlier. He drank with great restraint,” the bartender said, not taking it very seriously. “I promoted our special cocktails to him, but he said he still had things to do and could only drink one glass of beer. I praised him a little and asked where he came from. He said Utopia.”

…

Wendel had just finished enjoying breakfast when he heard the doorbell ring.

Through the peephole, he saw a policeman in black-and-white checkered uniform outside. Somewhat puzzled, he opened the front door.

“May I ask what this is about?” Wendel politely asked.

This house was the residence assigned to him after arriving in Backlund, because he would be settling in this metropolis for a rather long period of time next, undergoing internal investigation and monitoring of his condition.

The policeman was still very young, slightly inexperienced, looking only in his early twenties.

He piled on a smile and said to Wendel,

“Hello. I am Byers, a policeman. There is a case, and I would like to ask you to testify in court.”

“What case?” Wendel slightly furrowed his brows.

The young policeman named Byers kept his polite smile.

“The Tracy murder case in Utopia.”

“…” Wendel’s pupils instantly dilated.