Steampunk Era: Mad Abield
Chapter 647 - 456

Chapter 647: 456

Walking on the street, Malin was holding an umbrella, on his way to the National Publishing House to submit a new manuscript.

The girls were all busy with their affairs, so no one had the time to accompany him, which made Malin walking in the heavy snow somewhat nostalgic for such weather—it must have been six years since Carterburg last saw such a heavy snowfall.

However, compared to six years ago, Carterburg now had much more vitality, lots of heat emissions, and the city hall had brought over refined salt from the saltworks to scatter on the streets. Despite snowing all night, it could not accumulate.

Lady Spotty’s eldest son, Kajad, ran ahead of Malin, the young spirit brimming with boundless energy, seemingly unconcerned about his mother’s departure.

He truly was a youngster content with the status quo.

Although a leopard, Kajad’s appearance did not cause any commotion—all the citizens of Carterburg knew he was Malin’s pet. They passed each other without incident. However, it was human children who often foolishly tried to catch Kajad. But how could they possibly grasp such an agile spirit creature? Kajad avoided their clutches and then quickly ran back to Malin’s side.

"Mr. Malin," greeted a passing officer, lifting his hat respectfully.

Malin nodded with a smile, accepting his greeting.

"Mr. Malin," a member of the city administration took off his hat as he passed by Malin.

"What is it, White?" asked Malin, looking at the young man.

"You actually know my name, sir. The financial budget for next year has been compiled. If you have time, please come to the finance office to confirm it."

"No, tell your Director White that I trust his professional abilities," Malin declined the young man’s presumption with a smile—after all, it was the mayor’s responsibility, and it would be overstepping if he interfered.

"Yes, sir." The young man left, happy to have had a conversation with Mr. Malin.

Malin raised an eyebrow, feeling that this young man was enthusiastic and sharp-eyed. It was a shame he had encountered such a Mr. Malin.

He felt he had let him down.

Kajad noticed the newcomer and hid behind Malin.

"Malin," Bishop Marian of the Church of the War God approached, looking somewhat haggard.

"Your Excellency, I still haven’t been able to find your two apprentices. I wanted to consult ’Him,’ but as you know, with the Tide of the Dead approaching, I really can’t get in touch with ’Him’ at this time," Malin finished in one breath, waiting for the elder’s response.

"I know, and I understand, the child of Hoffman... I still have time to wait..." The elderly man said, sizing up Malin: "You’re out here alone with an umbrella today, what’s the occasion?"

"I am going to the National Publishing House. That damned place has a counter-teleportation array. Last time I heard someone opened a door, and on the other side was the center of the Dark Zone, they nearly didn’t make it back," Malin spoke of Sydney, the youngest apprentice of the Master of the Central Mage Tower, who was talented and ambitious. He had written some works that appealed to the masses and was impatient. He activated the teleportation passage without regard for the ban, and the counter-teleportation array reshaped his coordinates. The young man didn’t pay attention, and thus, stepped right into the most dangerous and vile area in the East. Half his body was almost mutated, and it was Malin’s side that provided the fruit that dragged him back from the brink of death.

For this, the Master of the Tower owed Malin a huge debt of gratitude—the young man was his illegitimate son. With him and his wife’s six daughters, he was the only boy; although there was no possibility to legitimize him, he was, after all, his son.

About this, Malin could only say one brought trouble upon oneself by one’s actions and hoped the young man could learn from his mistakes. Otherwise, the next time he might not have the chance to enjoy the great generosity and kindness of Mr. Malin anymore.

"You’re talking about that youngster? I know about him. I am off to check on the new apprentices of the Church. They are responsible for hunting giant rats in the new district, I hope their toes haven’t been bitten off."

At the mention of this joke circulating among the churches, both Malin and Marian laughed.

After a good laugh, Malin shook hands with the elder and then parted ways.

The little leopard looked back at the elderly man three times with each step before resuming his run ahead of Malin.

A group of the Benevolent Church apprentices came around the corner, with the senior one responsible for them noticing Malin and quickly giving a salute: "Your Excellency."

"Ah, children, where are you headed today?"

"The new apprentices of the Church of the War God are dealing with the giant rats, and the Assistant Priest asked me to take the children to see, in case of a wound, we can deal with it more professionally, can’t we?" The senior apprentice said, smiling shyly again, pleading with Malin: "Your Excellency, all our church’s trainees use your first-aid Spells. If you have time, could you please give a lecture to the new children?"

"No problem, pick a time slot; if I’m free, I’ll give a couple of classes," Malin didn’t mind whether this would waste his time—after all, a few classes might allow these children to save more lives in the days to come.

"Thank you, Your Excellency, I will convey your kindness to the Bishop when I get back."

"It’s just about teaching and nurturing, children, go on, don’t keep those who might be waiting and in need of your help waiting any longer."

Malin said with a smile, watching the children leave.

Kajad’s head was rubbed by several children, and it seemed confused and nervous, but in the end, it did not retaliate and let the children stroke it.

"Good boy," Malin took out a piece of jerky and held it in front of Kajad. The little Snow Leopard bit the jerky and made a contented purring sound.

Continuing forward, Malin saw the young boy and girl he had blessed before, nestled happily under an umbrella, completely oblivious to Malin.

They were on the other side of the street, and Malin watched with a smile as the two young people carried their purchased food and supplies into the door of a house facing the street.

That must be where they were renting.

Arriving in front of the National Publishing House, Malin flicked his umbrella, closed it, and handed it over to the guard outside, who glanced at Kajad wiping his feet on the doormat and eventually smiled, opening the door for Malin, "Our director is inside, please come in."

"By the way, where is Miss Secretary?" Malin asked casually; usually it was this lady who received him.

"She’s pregnant, taking care of her pregnancy, sir," the guard responded.

Malin was somewhat puzzled—hadn’t she said she was part of the non-marriage community?

Carrying such doubts, Malin entered the National Publishing House and saw the usual scene—the secretary’s assistant, a girl who appeared to be only seventeen or eighteen, was organizing a mountain-high pile of documents.

Four authors who had made appointments were sitting in the lounge area, drinking tea and playing cards.

Another female author was sitting in a street-facing single seat, sipping coffee, her child noticing Kajad, "Cat!"

This drew everyone’s attention to Malin, who smiled and tipped his flat cap, "Good afternoon, gentlemen, and Mrs. Ronse."

"Good afternoon, Mr. Malin," the card-playing gentlemen responded with a smile before continuing their card battle.

And Mrs. Ronse looked at Malin with a smile, "Good afternoon, Mr. Malin."

Malin gestured to Kajad not to resist the child’s playful antics and then greeted Mrs. Ronse, "Madam, you are here instead of your husband to submit manuscripts again today."

"Yes, you are not unaware of Ronse’s situation; he just can’t step out of the house." The lady noticed the assistant girl’s pleading eyes, laughed, and pointed at someone of her own kind, "Mr. Malin, that young girl needs you."

"I understand," Malin said with a smile, turning his head while raising his hand, and the documents in front of Miss Lisa began to levitate, reassembling according to their previous arrangement.

The stapler started working automatically, and quickly, these documents were bound and returned in front of Miss Lisa.

"Thank you, Mr. Malin," the young girl breathed a sigh of relief and stood up, "Sir, you’ll still have to wait a while, so would you like a drink?"

"The usual, tea with brandy," Malin replied, sitting down at the counter, where tiny Wood Elves were dancing around a flowering plant. Malin reached out to tease them, and the little creatures laughed with shrill voices.

As an assistant, the girl promptly prepared everything for Malin, who took a sip and waited for a praiseworthy response before breaking into a wide smile.

"Miss Lisa never made tea for us," the card-playing authors heckled.

The young girl’s face turned a shade redder with bashfulness.

Malin didn’t mind and looked at the girl, "Assistant, about your lady, how did she get married?"

"She must have met the right person. It was quite sudden when I heard she got married, and then not long after, she was pregnant. They were neighbors from a very young age, separated for over twenty years, and then they had an unexpected reunion. Neither was married, both held each other in their hearts—it sounds just like a story you’d write, Mr. Malin, except the ending turned out well."

"Ah, is that so? And what about you, Assistant, where’s your neighbor?" Malin propped his chin with his left hand, and with his right, he urged Fio to join the Wood Elves in their dance, and the little beings joyfully started to waltz, more and more spirits appearing and joining in.

"I don’t have one!" The young girl responded with some sadness.

"How can that be?" Malin said in surprise.

"I attended an all-girls’ school," the girl replied, causing Malin to grin.

You see, single-sex schools are indeed the archenemies of early romance.

"By the way, Mr. Malin, what have you written this time?" the assistant girl asked, looking at the manuscripts wrapped in a leather pouch placed on the counter.

Malin noticed the card players slowing down and the lady looking at the snow outside appeared distracted.

"Creed of Assassins, it tells the story of what some people pursue and what others protect," Malin said, adding a silent thought.

In fact, it’s about how terrifying a story it can be when what they pursue and what they protect become distorted.