我的狼人代码。

7. The preliminaries of the good life

When Creighton was still a student, Gorival County was exposed to the news that four robbers wearing thirty kilograms of homemade iron armor had robbed a bank, and even rifle bullets bounced off of them, and a team of sheriffs had been unable to take them down after confronting them at the bank for twenty-two hours, and finally had no choice but to set a fire in the bank and burned the four robbers to death. That armor had weighed about as much as a Taunton Knight's, which had led Creighton to keep thinking they were nothing much. Now that he thought about it, those robbers did wear heavy armor, but they also had trouble escaping from the bank because of their weight. Taunton knights could be much more nimble than them. When a man sees something often enough, he will categorize it as part of his own "ordinariness". Clayton traced the shadow of the transcendent world, but never realized that it was all around him. It is not only the appearance that is different that is transcendent. As he thought about it again, he realized that many of the people he had met before were very suspicious. Take the Hunters, they could aim at targets three hundred meters away with just their naked eyes, something he was far from being able to do. Dorn's navy is said to have seafarers who can dive as deep as one hundred and twenty yards underwater, the northern Milenti Republic's bombardiers are at least two and a half meters tall, and the colony of Roland has strange people who can bury themselves in the ground for three days without eating or drinking while wearing a turban....... There were transcendentalists in the military for sure. Still, Clayton couldn't be sure whether the phenomena he'd seen belonged to the transcendent or to the human race. In the end, the limits of mortals were not a definitive value that The dwarves on the eastern plateau had more strength than a normal height person, and those pointed-eared tribesmen in the Secret Silver Forest had the best strength among all races, so it was natural for different races to have different strengths. But there was no way to distinguish between those who had received heavenly blessings and those who might be monsters like him. He stroked the thick beard on his chin and said to himself, "If there is such an international competition that allows people of the same race and size from all over the world who have been exercising for a long period of time to compare their physical qualities in sports, perhaps I will be able to ascertain the limits of the ordinary people." But this is obviously fanciful. The world was in strife every few years, and the kind of international competition he wanted could only be held in a peaceful environment. Clayton discarded the fantasy and went on to Tritis's letter. "Considering that your ignorance is the norm, I sent the toolkit as well, basically everything you want to know is in the book, and if there's still something you don't understand, I suggest finding a local priest to ask ......" That's a terrible attitude, and the last thing I want to see right now is a priest ...... Clayton sighed. He glanced at the thick book's dust jacket, aged and cloth-grayed black cardboard topped by the foil-stamped title. Two Thousand Pieces of Common Sense for the Occultist. It looked amateurish as hell, and Clayton had mentally begun to wonder if the book had been sent to him to dispose of because Tritis was too occupied to do it, and earn him a favor in the process. Tritis's advice ended here. But Clayton saw a strange bump at the bottom, and he turned the letterhead upside down. There was a small paragraph on the back of the letterhead, the handwriting was a little distorted, the ink color was different than any of the previous words, and it was written in unusually small letters. There were several strange circular water stain marks next to the writing, making the paper curl and dry... Dried tears? Clayton frowned, he couldn't imagine Tritis crying. The woman had most likely sneezed at the smell of chemicals while writing her letter. He looked to the small line: "By the way, Donna recently wanted to change schools, but there really aren't any good ones locally ..... How about Sasha City?" Clayton's hand stiffened as he squeezed the letterhead, and a light shone out of his soul. His mind went blank for a moment, and there was only one thought in his mind, that Tritis was crazy! Fucking control freak, egomaniac, narcissist ....... It would take Clayton to give as many derogatory adjectives on her as he could, but he recognized that it was a woman who possessed a strong will and made decisions that wouldn't be easily changed. Though Tritis hadn't said it, Clayton knew that she had always felt that the Bello family owed her a debt. Ullen Bello had abducted her from the convent and failed to fulfill his duty as a husband, taking the initiative to enlist at the conscription office and then dying on the battlefield, leaving her and her daughter Donna behind. It wasn't good to say that her distaste for Creighton carried over from Uren; after all, their last name was Bello. If possible, Tritis would have her daughter change her last name and never see Clayton again. That's what she'd always insisted on. So what was this inquiry now? Was she finally willing to cast aside her former enmity and was planning to move to Sasha City as a family so that the last two blood relatives of the Bello family could meet? He stood up and paced back and forth, trying to dissipate the heat. Pulled the window open again to blow out the air. When he thought of his niece, Donna Bello, Clayton's mood was like a military blimp with a howitzer mounted, possessing the conflicting states of lightness and heaviness. That should be the last sane person in the Bello family, no matter how carefully nurtured. "Write another letter to ask for information." Despite the fact that Tritis had simply asked a question, he was starting to get a headache. That Donna child, though never met, was of an age that should be going to high school, and Creighton was going to ask Charlotte, his female assistant who had graduated from Sane University, to ask. Despite the advancing times, many schools remained as conservative as they had been for the last two hundred years. There weren't many schools that were willing to admit females yet, and Sasha City, being a relatively affluent large city in the country, was exceptionally blessed with several gender-neutral public high schools, making it a difficult choice. As for the Holy Grail will ...... Clayton vowed he would have them all going to the Father within a month! They must not be allowed to compromise the peace and order of the city. If Donna would come. ...................... The next day, Clayton didn't bother rustling the silver coins. Charlotte would take care of everything in the store. He would prepare to take care of the watchers around Joe Mani today and question Charlotte about the school the next day. The Grail would have already found out that the watchers around him had been taken out, and would certainly be more cautious next, and he would try to end the matter before he resumed his watchfulness here. Clayton had met with Joe Mani before, and Joe's watcher must have been there then, too. He just couldn't find that veiled scent from the smells wafting around, and if the other guy was hiding high up and just watching from afar with binoculars, the smell wouldn't necessarily reach his nose even if it was strong enough. Pick a high point to scout before finding the other guy.And it was a bit of a hassle to bring the Conqueror Rifle out during the day, so he planned to move at night. But it wasn't like there was nothing to do during the day. He went to a hidden detective agency in the western district of the city. The owner of this detective agency, Bruno, was barely an acquaintance of Clayton's, having met him at the Veteran Officers' Club and a regular at the Big Tree House, and was trustworthy in both strength and brains. The downside is that Bruno has developed a drinking problem after the war and is in poor mental health, requiring constant medication. As a result, Bruno never had any money to spend on newspaper advertisements, and the firm's business suffered, as its reputation was spread by a few acquaintances, making it rather niche. But the office was actually his home. Clayton rang the doorbell of Bruno's house, waited a few seconds, and the door opened. He was greeted by a woman he had never met before. A tall figure under shoulder-length short brown hair, a large-brimmed black bowler hat, a tight-fitting cotton shirt and pants that were all black, high-heeled boots, and a caged hand thin sword and short musket prominently displayed at her waist. Clayton saw the male-leaning attire for a moment of trance and thought he was back in the cavalry company. It wasn't much different from the cavalry's everyday uniform at the time, except for the color. "I'm looking for Bruno," The girl in male attire inclined her head once, "He's in there, but he can't get up right now." Clayton couldn't eat her relationship with Bruno and couldn't help but have his eyes drawn to the large brimmed hat again: "And you are, may I ask?" "Marie Etta, Bruno's client." She looked straight into Creighton's face without any shyness, "This gentleman, we seem to have met somewhere before."Clayton couldn't recall where he'd seen her before, and the getup would surely stand out. "I'm afraid not, miss." "Never mind then." Mary Etta turned and walked back in, and Creighton followed, closing the door behind her. It wasn't the first time he'd been here, but it was the first time since being a werewolf. The house smelled of alcohol and tobacco stronger than a strip club, and sweat-stained clothing and empty bottles could be seen in any corner. Bruno was in the living room, lying on his back on a dark couch with tattered fabric and horsehair showing, barefoot on one foot, the other, however, was well shod. The sleeves on either side were rolled up unseasonably high. In his hand, which hung down at the side, he cupped an apple core, but with a gentle touch as if he were holding a bouquet of flowers. The detective, whose face was a few shades worse than dead, was unresponsive to the arrival of his two guests, and murmured, "My love, Caterina, why have you left me, the priest testifies to us that our sweet marriage should never end ......." "He was like that when I came in." Marie Etta stood in front of the sofa briefly briefing Clayton. She looked at Bruno with contempt in her eyes, her fingers unconsciously circling around the flintlock grip. Her patience was not very good. For Marie Etta's sake and for his own, not to be delayed, Creighton took an empty glass from the table and went to the lavatory to fetch half a glass of water, then walked to the parlor and poured it in Bruno's face. "Wake up, Bruno! Katrina is a fictionalized theater character from Hoosier Sanctuary, and you don't have a lover or a wife because no one would want to marry a good-for-nothing alcoholic!" Bruno sat up with his eyes wide open. He was completely sober.