我的狼人代码。

Chapter 16: Shameful Transactions

Clayton tried to find a way to get on Joe Mani's bad side, but Joe didn't give him a chance. Clayton went to the chapel at St. Mellon's parish to find him, and the volunteer was never at his post. He asked the priest in the church, who in turn told him that Joe Mani was making pre-baptismal preparations and that contact with outsiders was not advisable. It wasn't very much of a surprise, and Clayton had known he would play it smart, but now he had to be held accountable. He was always hiding things, and it upset Creighton. The note from the Grail Club had been quite confident in tone, the kind of tone that was absolutely convinced that Joe wouldn't be looking for help. Creighton was familiar with such a tone; the only people who talked like that were debtors who had something on the other side in their hands. Clayton went back to Mercy Street and tried to leave a message in Joe's mailbox, but Joe's house was empty, and the landlord said that the occupants had already surrendered the lease. He really had no choice but to go back to his business and wait for Joe Mani to reach out to him, or to ask the priest at St. Mellon's parish chapel some time later. Maybe in a couple of weeks Joe would be able to unite the forces of the church to put the Grail Society to rest. But frustrated, Clayton's fire was slowly calming down. The Grail Council threat wasn't the only bad thing about it. While he still had time recently, he contacted the people from the property insurance company and insured everything in the store that had a certificate of authentication. As long as the term was for this year, Clayton wouldn't lose half of his money, or even make a small profit, no matter what night the rusty silver coins were completely ransacked and burned in a single fire. Insurance contracts were more forgiving, a benefit of Sasha City's long history of well-policed environments. But even if there was some compensation, for him to rebuild the store would still take a lot of effort and extra money, and the money he owed due to ocean trading and a few investments he lost money on due to his poor business strategy vision would not be forgiving to him for long. Clayton took a carriage ride back home and organized his mailbox once again. His mailbox was hardly ever empty, due to having informants all over the city to help him gather things of value, as well as having to keep in touch with a few friends during the course of the day. The landlord's maid informed Clayton that she had moved the raw beef he had ordered to the cellar, so he arranged to enjoy himself for the evening. At the end of the night, he would feast in the cellar. Because he was a werewolf and could replenish his strength by eating, Creighton could even stay awake all night. A werewolf's strength and shapeshifting abilities could also be improved through exercise, and he wouldn't let himself be idle at night. By the next morning, he would return to his human form and chew on some natural spice powder as a deodorant, freshening up in the washroom before continuing to deal with the Rusty Silver Coin's business correspondence in Sasha City and the surrounding area. Once upon a time he would still have sore muscles and joints from time to time due to age-old injuries acquired during his military career, but becoming a werewolf healed those injuries without medication. Looking at it objectively, it was surprising that all of the changes that had been added to his life so far had been good, except for the Grail Council. But the Grail Council alone was bad enough to cancel out all of his good feelings.. The fact that people were dying because of the Grail, and that the oddly shaped henchmen were becoming local to Sasha City, meant that Grail emissaries were quietly attacking the general local population, and that they were more dangerous than Clayton had initially anticipated. He therefore wrote and asked Tritis to reconsider, or wait until his next reply before bringing Donna to live in Sasha City. The date for the blood relatives' meeting had once again been postponed, and it was not known whether there would be any opportunity for it in the future. If Clayton were to catch the Grail Council bastards, it would truly not be enough to kill them a thousand times over. Clayton worked hard at home, writing replies to every letter that came in. By mid-afternoon, he hired a wagon and searched systematically. The last time he'd been on the Hawksbane, he'd picked up some useful scents that were different from the cheap perfume in the Broken-Winged Angel strip club. It smelled like some kind of fresh, untouched fabric, and Clayton had smelled it once, but since it was only once, and the experience was so insignificant in his memory, he had forgotten what it belonged to. He deduced, however, that it would be the odor from some kind of dye. If he searched all the dye houses in the eight parishes of Sasha City, he would surely find a clue. The Grail Society had lost two of their watchers, and they wouldn't be sending any new people in the near future, so it was just the right time to uncover them. What Clayton hadn't noticed, though, was that his reputation seemed to have changed a little among the coachmen. The coachman he hired looked at him with a strange look: "Sir, with all due respect, I've heard some bad rumors about you from fellow travelers." Clayton went around to the back of the wagon and got in, unable to think of anyone he had offended: "Mostly rumors, right?" He said absently. The coachman laughed, "I suppose so, how could anyone suddenly strip naked and jump out of a carriage while riding in it? Clayton couldn't stop laughing. He finally realized that he hadn't come out of the confrontation with the Grail Council without a loss so far. .............. First the large brimmed black bowler hat pressed against his short brown hair, then the thick black cotton armor shirt wrapped around his upper body. High heeled boots and a caged hand swift sword were essential, and finally a short musket was slipped into a holster at her waist. Mary Etta glanced in the mirror, not that she was a beauty queen, but to make sure that some of the lacing was not in the wrong place. Before leaving the bedroom, she took one last look in the mirror. The figure in the mirror in uniform vaguely resembled the father she had seen as a young child. Today was also a day of justice in maintaining law and order in the city. Mary Etta had her own day job, writing and reading letters for the illiterate, which paid her sixty pounds a year. It might be slightly less as a decent person, but she also had the inheritance from her father, that would allow her to live carefree for ten years without having to work, and would be more than enough for a dowry. "I'm going out, mom." She said to the rocking chair in the living roomThe woman said. The woman looked four or five times like Mary, and no one could doubt that she had been a beauty in her youth. It was just that the overly tight layers of woolen clothing wrapped around her, and she was pale, not looking very healthy, and more than a little old for her real age. She opened her lifeless eyes and turned her face toward Mary, "You're leaving again?" "Will be back, I promise." Mary Aitara opened the door and looked outside, and couldn't help but stride back and hug her mother. "Aunt Fessie will be here in a few minutes, and she can make a better stew than I can." Her mother's face was unwavering, pushing her away as if she were facing a stranger. "I know, just hurry up." Mary nodded, and for once she actually left the house. As a daughter, she had a longing for everything her father had left behind, including the city with its rich history and culture. Keeping Sasha City looking good was as natural and necessary to her as putting cheese and slices of ham in the middle of toasted bread. Her father, a Ranger, had taught her how to fight with a gun and a sword, so Mary was comfortable as a sheriff. No one at the General Magistrate's Office would mock her because of her gender, making comments that women shouldn't wield weapons - because she was an occasional shooting instructor there, and there were very few people who could outwit her. On top of that, she had a good teacher, and that was a good partner, too. Though she had the flaw of not being able to recognize people, she never received a complaint when partnered with that man. Before the sun set completely, Mary walked into the plush Sheriff's Department building where a heavily armed male sheriff was already waiting for her at the front desk. "Mary, today's patrol roster has been set, go to the stables and get the horses out." "Yes, Mr. Galliard." Mary gave a stirring response. Although it was an order, she didn't feel bored; orders from a superior to a subordinate were the very sign of recognition. Besides, the Sheriff's Department didn't really have enough horses, and the other man never rode, so the so-called order to lead the horse was just another sign of concern. She led the horse out of the stable and inquired in a kicking voice, "Where are we going today, sir?" "St. Solitude Parish," Galliard led the dog without looking back, "Protect yourself, we may run into those patients today as well." Yes, the patients. Mary Etta's mind tightened as she regained her vigilance. There seemed to be a strange disease spreading in this city lately, and the patients who got it were not very human in appearance despite their clothes, and possessed considerable aggressiveness. Had Mr. Galeed not explained that it was a terrible plague from the colonies, I fear she would have panicked as if it were a monster of legend. As it turned out, muskets and longswords still managed to stop them in their tracks. As pathetic as it was, there was no cure for the virulent plague, and killing these patients and sending them to be cremated was the only way to protect the city. The work had to be done in secret so as not to cause panic.