Lord of The Mysterious Realms-Chapter 91: A Busy Day
"Papa Oliver, I'd like to take the day off to handle some family matters."
I squinted at the object Papa Oliver had just purchased. It was a strange mechanical contraption made of brass gears. It didn't have a supernatural aura, but its design was utterly bizarre.
"Go on."
Papa Oliver replied distractedly. Noticing my curiosity, he explained, "We've been getting a lot of antiques like this lately—collections of gears. They're not in the style of this epoch, but the followers of the Artificer are quite fond of them. You haven't studied this area yet, so it's natural you'd find it strange."
But I was more curious about the man who'd just left. Since he hadn't sold a supernatural item, Papa Oliver wouldn't him to the Church for investigation. I couldn't tell if the man had noticed me because he was naturally perceptive or because he was powerful, but either way, he was already gone.
First, I went to the post office to subscribe to the daily Nolan Daily. Then I looked up the issue number for the 'Prospects in Tropical Medicine' journal. It wasn't cheap, and the next gathering with the Corpse Gentleman was still two weeks away.
The milk company was located on a street three blocks from the Dock Area, its private courtyard covered in a network of brass-colored steam pipes. I ran into Professor Burns there, and we chatted for a bit. He was looking well. I told him where to find the entrance to the black market I knew of, and in return, he recommended a sweet milk delivery that cost only seven shillings and three pence a month.
The employment agency on Shefter Avenue was rather quiet. As I listened to a portly woman recommend suitable maids, I spotted the old butler I'd seen at the castle, who was apparently looking for a housemaid. He must be working for that troublesome young Francis's cousin.
There's a distinction between a day maid and a housemaid. The former is simply a domestic employee who completes a specific task and then leaves—a cook or a laundress, for example. A housemaid, on the other hand, is a special kind of servant in this era, bound by a long-term contract. They live in their employer's home and must fulfill all of their employer's requests.
The exact nature of that arrangement depended entirely on the scope of the employment agreement, the housemaid's wages... and the channels through which she was hired.
Human trafficking, indentured servitude, daughters of bankrupt families, servants born into the household—anything was possible. But I had too many secrets. I couldn't allow any woman to get that close to me.
Finding a diligent and trustworthy cleaning woman wasn't easy, especially since I wasn't willing to spend too much. I left a one-shilling registration fee with the portly woman at the agency, and she promised that if I came back next week, she'd surely have a suitable candidate for me.
Only after I promised the carriage driver that Chocolate wouldn't make a mess did he allow the two of us—one man, one cat—to board. Our destination was the City Pet Management Center on the outskirts of town.
On my way out of the post office, I bought a copy of the day's Nolan Daily from a street-corner newsboy. The bounty for the man in the black robe was still listed at the bottom of the classifieds, but the reward had been raised to five hundred pounds. A new crime had been added to the list: infiltrating Nolan Public Hospital No. 5 and desecrating a corpse.
"Tch. The world is full of sickos these days. To think someone would actually desecrate a corpse."
I lamented.
"Yeah."
The driver, holding the reins, agreed without turning his head, his voice muffled. "The fellow who reads the paper aloud for us all mentioned that bounty. First murder, then robbery, and now this... May the Lady of the Unlit Moon protect us. Let's hope he's not a serial killer."
"You have someone read the paper to you?"
I asked, my interest piqued.
"Aye. In the morning, a Mr. Clark stops to chat with us drivers on his way to work. Sometimes we ask him to read the paper for us. You need to be literate to get anywhere these days. A while back, there was news that the Artificer's Church of Creation and Machinery invented some kind of horseless steam carriage. Who knows when folks like us will be..."
"This Mr. Clark sounds like a good man. But I wouldn't worry too much. Didn't the paper say that steam carriage was just a prototype? I heard the boiler even exploded."
"Thank you for your reassurance."
The driver remained dejected.
"Why not attend the night school at the Church of Knowledge and Books? Don't they offer free classes to the public?"
I asked, though I already knew the answer.
"I'm too old to learn now... and besides, my whole family depends on this carriage for their meals. How can I waste my evenings doing something else?"
He gently rang a small bell hanging by his side to warn pedestrians of the approaching carriage. There was an unexpected weariness to his movements.
Just as I thought.
I sighed to myself.
Ahead was a fork in the road with three paths. The left path was the shortest but also the most difficult, cutting through a patch of woods. The middle path was the longest but an easier journey. The path on the right was a main road, and it was the one the driver took.
Even with the Church of the Legacy Sage promoting the spread of knowledge, the barrier between the rich and the poor was still nearly impossible to break. In other words, the class divide was deeply entrenched, and the lower class had no real path for upward mobility. Even in a relatively progressive city like Nolan, the slum population still made up a third of its residents.
They were consumed by the steam factories belching black smoke and swallowed by the gangs that lurked in the shadows. Someone like the original Jenkins, had he not deliberately sought it out, could have lived his entire life without ever truly understanding the hardships of the poor.
By comparison, this driver at least had a steady income. It was a far better fate than having your life squeezed out of you in a steam factory or dying in a gang war.
It was one of the reasons I could accept the Legacy Sage as my own faith—I admired her for spreading knowledge and helping the poor. Even if the impact wasn't huge, at least her Church was trying.
When we arrived, I gave the driver an extra shilling for the fare. He took off his hat and gave a deep bow in my direction as I walked away.
The City Pet Management Center was a three-story, red-tiled building on the outskirts of the city. Not far off, a few stately noble manors dotted the landscape.
The place apparently doubled as a shelter for strays. Before I even set foot in the courtyard, I was hit by the foul stench of feces and feed mixed together.
"Don't you go learning their bad habits, Chocolate."
I quietly admonished my cat, then looked up and saw the Mikhail family carriage parked nearby. The driver was a gaunt, middle-aged man with a scar on his face. From his bearing, he looked like a retired policeman or soldier.
He'd driven Miss Mikhail and Miss Hersha to Pops Antique Shop before, so the man recognized me.
Chapter 91: A Busy Day
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