Lord of the Mysteries (P1)

Chapter 52: Spectator

“Stop thinking about the bloody IOU. Let’s discuss the ritualistic magic.” Old Neil put away the candles, cauldron, silver knife, and other items with a relaxed expression.

Klein really wanted to shrug his shoulders like the Americans in his previous life, but ultimately could not bring himself to do something that ungentlemanly.

He turned his focus toward the ritualistic magic and threw out detailed questions that puzzled him, receiving answers from them. For example, the incantations had a particular format. As long as they were satisfied and the key meaning was expressed in Hermes, the rest could be left to one’s creativity. Of course, blasphemy or disrespectful descriptions were absolutely forbidden.

The mysticism class lasted until noon before Old Neil coughed twice.

“We have to return to Zouteland Street.”

With that said, he grumbled in an indistinct manner, “To get these bloody materials, I missed my beloved breakfast.”

Klein looked around both amused and puzzled.

“Mr. Neil, do you have a chef? Or a maidservant in charge of cooking?”

A weekly salary of twelve pounds could hire several servants!

According to the newspapers, with board and lodging provided, hiring an ordinary chef cost anywhere between twelve to fifteen soli a week. It did not even need a pound. A maidservant to do miscellaneous chores was even cheaper. Their weekly salaries ranged between three soli six pence to six soli. Of course, one could not bear any hope of them having any culinary skills.

Uh, that’s not right. With Mr. Neil’s debt of thirty pounds, it’s only normal he doesn’t hire any chefs or servants...

It seems I’ve asked another question I should not have asked...

While Klein regretted his question, Old Neil shook his head without minding it.

“I often attempt ritualistic magic, research extraordinary items, and read corresponding documents at home, so I don’t nor is it possible that I hire ordinary people as chefs, butlers or maidservants. I only hire someone to clean up the place regularly. And if they are not ordinary people, do you think they will be willing to do such jobs?”

“I seem to have asked a silly question. It’s possibly because I will not do anything that involves mysticism at home,” explained Klein in a self-deprecating manner.

Old Neil had long stood up, wore his round felt hat, and while walking out the door, rambled on.

“I seem to smell pan-fried foie gras... Once the IOU is completely settled, I’ll definitely have one set! For lunch, I’ll definitely eat roasted pork glazed with apple juices. No, that’s not enough. I must have a sausage infused with mashed potatoes...”

You are making me hungry... Klein swallowed his saliva as he caught up to Old Neil and headed for the nearby public carriage stop.

After returning to Zouteland Street, Old Neil suddenly grunted after stepping down the carriage.

“What do I see? Goddess, what am I seeing?”

He was suddenly as nimble as a seventeen or eighteen-year-old lad. He quickly came to the roadside and picked up an item.

Klein leaned close out of curiosity and looked carefully. He realized it was a wallet with fine workmanship.

With his lack of experience, he could barely tell if the dark brown wallet was made of buffalo skin or sheepskin, but he noticed a small light-blue logo embroidered on the side of the wallet—a white dove spreading its wings as if ready to take off.