Chapter 428: Chapter 428

Duke Galvin was in serious trouble. Someone had reported him for secretly stashing a large quantity of illegal firearms on his estate. Regardless of the truth, once the royal family announced the launch of a formal investigation, the family was doomed to a long period of misfortune.

Most people suspected that the Church of Knowledge and Books was retaliating. Only a select few understood that more than one power was responsible for the lethal blow.

After that, no one dared to cross Jenkins lightly. Only a few noble ladies were still willing to send their letters to his residence. But Jenkins had no time to think about these enthusiastic young women, because Papa Oliver had sent him a letter.

More accurately, Papa Oliver had forwarded a letter. It was from Mr. Buro, the bookseller he had not seen in a long time. He had heard the news of Jenkins’s award and, knowing he would be traveling to Bel Diran, wanted to meet with him in the royal capital. Unfortunately, by the time the letter arrived at St. George Avenue, Jenkins had already departed. It was Papa Oliver, who was looking after the house, who had found the letter in the mailbox and promptly forwarded it.

Mr. Buro wanted to meet Jenkins at ten o’clock on Saturday morning. The location was the Quill Pen Writers' Club in the city center, also known as the Fidektri Writers' Association. As it happened, Jenkins also had to go into the city to handle a matter for Miss Audrey, so it was no trouble to go.

Unlike the discreet Oil Ink Mister Club, the Quill Pen Writers' Club was located on Silver Cross Road, a main thoroughfare in the capital. Across the street was a bookstore called The Owl. Standing on the opposite side of the road, Jenkins could even see his fairytale book displayed in the glass window. A few children were gathered in front of the bookstore, pressing their faces against the glass, gazing at the cover image of Snow White bending down to pick up the green poisoned apple.

"I'm looking for Mr. Buro."

Stepping through the club's entrance, he took off his hat and rapped his knuckles on the reception desk. The young woman at the desk looked up, and when she saw Jenkins's face, she nearly cried out in surprise:

"You're... Mr. Williams!"

"Oh, yes, of course. I'm the most devoted reader of the 'Stranger's Story Collection.' It's such a wonderful book..."

The overly enthusiastic young woman personally escorted Jenkins to the door of the room, and he could only smile and bid her farewell.

"Long time no see, Baron Williams."

"Long time no see, Mr. Buro."

The portly merchant stood up to greet him, his face wreathed in smiles. "It's a bit late, I know, but I must still congratulate you on winning the Ritter Prize. I trust you won't mind if we print this news on the book's cover."

"Of course I don't mind."

He waved his hand and sat down. The merchant immediately beckoned to a servant standing by to pour their drinks.

"I'm delighted to see you in Bel Diran. It's such a beautiful city. Oh, not that Nolan City is bad, it's just the air..."

He gestured vaguely in the air, and Jenkins smiled and nodded.

"I hope the new plan being implemented next year will have some effect, but I remain pessimistic."

He winked at Jenkins. Then, they raised their glasses and clinked them together.

Mr. Buro had always been a bookseller who collaborated with the Church of Knowledge and Books. After unexpectedly acquiring the publishing rights to Jenkins's books, his business had received the church's tacit support. Compared to when they first met, his enterprise had expanded to an astonishing scale.

The shrewd merchant, of course, knew exactly why this was. He wasn't one to argue with gleaming gold coins and crisp banknotes, so he knew exactly what he ought to do.

This time, the royalties amounted to 793 pounds, far exceeding Jenkins's expectations. Even though the profits from foreign sales had to be shared with local booksellers, the accumulated sum was still quite considerable.

The two chatted for a while about political news before the conversation turned to the club. Mr. Buro strongly recommended that Jenkins become a member, because every famous writer in the kingdom belonged to it.

"How many gold pounds?"

"For anyone else, it would be about 23 pounds a year, but you won't have to pay a thing."

He swirled the drink in his glass. "Most writers hope to connect with more accomplished peers here and use the club to promote their books. But you have no need for that. I know the Sage's Church also owns shares in this club. How insane would they have to be to dare charge you a membership fee?"

Becoming a member of the club came with an exquisite feather-shaped badge. Most cities in the country had a branch of the club, including Nolan City, of course. As a member, Jenkins wouldn't have to spend a single copper to get a private room at the club anytime he wished, enjoy its activities, and receive complimentary breakfast, lunch, dinner, afternoon tea, and supper service.

He had no reason to refuse.

Mr. Buro also subtly tried to find out how Jenkins's next book was coming along and whether it could be published by the end of next year. The answer he received was a pleasant surprise.

"I still need to revise a few details, but I should have a first draft ready by the end of this month or the beginning of the next."

"You've already finished it?"

"You could say that."

"Oh, my esteemed Baron, please accept my bow. I have never met such a diligent and famous author as yourself. May the Sage grant that every writer might have your spirit."

After bidding farewell to the enthusiastic merchant, the man and his cat set off once more. Miss Audrey's childhood dance teacher was named Hill Caroline. The poor old woman lived alone in an alley in the slums.

Just as he paid the cabman, Jenkins saw two carriages bearing the police insignia parked at the mouth of the alley. Nearby, a few pedestrians had gathered, whispering amongst themselves as they watched.

He murmured under his breath, scooped up the cat trailing at his heels, and walked over. The entrance to the alley had been cordoned off by the police, but he could see several bodies lying inside, marked with obvious gunshot wounds.

"Excuse me, what happened here?"

He addressed a middle-aged officer who was keeping the crowd back. The officer carefully appraised his attire, adjusted his cap to make sure the insignia faced forward, and then replied in a polite tone:

"Respected sir, last night a group of bandits had a shootout here, and unfortunately, some of the local residents were caught in the crossfire. We're currently dealing with the bodies of these poor souls. Although plagues are unlikely in winter, the bodies still need a proper burial." Googlᴇ search novelFirｅ.net

He said, nervously pulling a slip of paper from his pocket. "Um, yes, what about Mrs. Caroline, who lives in Apartment 3, Room 201?"