Steampunk Era: Mad Abield
Chapter 475 - 320: The Endless Night (Part 3)

Chapter 475: Chapter 320: The Endless Night (Part 3)

"No... I just wonder if my guests will really never find hair in their dishes."

"We’re not going to go bald like you, meow!" the black-furred Spirits shrieked as they launched a rebuttal known for its sharpness and acidity.

The owner touched his shiny head and finally rolled his eyes. He turned to the orange cat: "Your companion is really hard to deal with."

"Yes meow, Heipi is always like this meow." The Spirits stood with dignity upon the earth.

"Dear Thainese Cat, we need to add more dishes!" A voice called out from the guests’ section, prompting the orange-furred Spirits to sprint over.

The manager sitting on the counter reached out to catch the flying messenger fairy. After glancing at the message it brought, then looking around, he took out special paper and a pen from the corner and hastily wrote four words.

All guests are here.

......

"...Bring me another roasted Saro beast’s hind leg and two more large bottles of rice wine!" After ordering, the middle-aged Merchant gentleman smiled and waved to his guests, "Don’t worry, Mister Lawyer, the drinks and meals here are great. Although they’re Spirits, you don’t need to be afraid, they don’t eat humans."

"I know they don’t eat humans, but there’s something fishy about what happened this noon," said the elderly lawyer, furrowing his brow.

His client, however, was not listening at all, laughing loudly while drinking exotic rice wine with the chairman of the Light of Carterburg, as though all had been settled.

This made the old man even more worried. Just the day before, a colleague who communicated with him via telegraph had cryptically warned him—quit while you’re ahead, old man.

If it were someone else, the old lawyer would probably never speak to them again, but this colleague was a mentor who had helped him in the past—correct, it was an elven lawyer.

Both in age and in years of practice, this being was far beyond him, and only he could address him as an old man.

Because the old lawyer was ageing, while he remained youthful.

This warning made him realize something—what kind of person was Malin? He was the King’s son-in-law, the Church’s darling. The old lawyer had never seen someone of his status suffer such a loss.

But he did suffer, and then acted as if nothing was wrong, spending all day either helping at the Church or chatting with his workers. Thanks to him, the workers had always voiced their demands in a very rational manner.

But today at noon... it all ended.

Seven workers died, nearly a hundred were arrested.

In the Northern Kingdom, such a confrontation between workers and the police would have likely resulted in rivers of blood.

But not here, as the workers retreated, displaying a frightening level of rationality, and a troubling solidarity that sent shivers down the old lawyer’s spine.

The members of the Merchants’ Association, however, felt that it was all over. Without jobs, the workers had no choice, and Malin couldn’t possibly pay them indefinitely. If only they extended the investigation, they could crush Malin, the troublemaker, under their heel in Carterburg.

How interesting, they forget who is really going against the tide of history.

The old lawyer suddenly grew weary of his job, and more fatally, that night his Apprentice told him they hadn’t seen Casaman Saryan for a whole day.

This put the old lawyer on alert—a person can’t just vanish. They immediately reported it to the police, who merely took on the case without any follow-up. They didn’t investigate, confirm, or seek any potential traces in estates and factories.

What could possibly make the police not go searching for him?

Two possibilities: one, they already knew he was dead.

Two, they already knew he was "protected."

If the former were true, then why didn’t they go after the culprit? This thought was too frightening for the old lawyer to even consider—the likely answer being that it was a Chaotic Believer. After all, when Chaotic Believers die, isn’t that just it? No one seeks justice for them.

And if he was "protected"... it’s not possible, as only a captured Chaotic Believer would receive such closely guarded treatment.

All in all, the old man was beginning to lose sight of the truth. And more fatally, he discovered a problem—since Mr. Malin’s workers were so self-disciplined, how did this noon’s conflict arise?

He must review the surveillance footage from that moment tonight.

There are questions he must clarify.

As a lawyer, he doesn’t crave eternal fame, but at the very least, he wishes not to leave behind an eternal stench.

As he thought this, he noticed his Apprentice waving at him from the doorway.

The young man who had claimed to feel unwell tonight, said he would stay at the inn, but why was he here at this moment?

The old man stood up and approached, "What’s the problem, Vardal?"

"Teacher, I’ve just reviewed the surveillance footage. Someone’s stoking the conflict..." said the young apprentice in an urgent tone.

"Go on." Glancing over at the long table and noticing that no one was paying attention to this corner, the old man quickly asked.

"Someone is instigating conflict between the police and workers. I saw several people prodding. Teacher, please come back with me to look."

"Alright, wait for me a moment, I’ll grab my coat."

After saying this, the old man turned to get his coat and apologetically signalled to the businessman hosting them, "My Apprentice has a problem that I need to look into, please excuse me."

Having bid everyone farewell, the old man donned his coat and followed his Apprentice out of the restaurant.

......

The orange-furred Spirits watched as the elderly man and the young one left the premises and turned to look at the proprietor on the counter, "Should we take care of it? That young man reeks."

"Don’t meddle." The owner grunted, preparing to turn to check on the kitchen’s progress when suddenly both he and the orange-furred cat turned their heads towards the outside of the establishment.

"Someone’s followed them," the orange-furred Spirits said, unable to hide their grin, "That old gentleman is a good person."

"He’s good indeed, laughing all good people back to life," the owner scoffed, then sighed with some relief.

In the end, his joy boiled down to the fact that no one died in the alley near his shop.

Yes, no one.

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