Duke Galvin is in big trouble when he is reported to have hidden illegal ammunition on his estate. Whatever the truth, the family was doomed for a long time after the royal family announced the launch of a formal inquiry.
Most people's guess is that the Church of Knowledge and Books is taking revenge. Only a very few people understand that it is not just a force that kills.
No one dared to provoke Jenkins easily anymore, only some noble ladies were willing to post their letters to Jenkins' residence. And Jenkins has no time to think about the hospitable girls because of a letter from Papa.
To be more precise, it was Dad who forwarded a letter. This is Mr. Bro, a bookseller whom I haven't seen for a long time. He heard the news that Jenkins won the award, and learned that he would definitely go to Beldyran, so he wanted to meet him in the capital. But unfortunately, Jenkins had already left when the letter arrived on St. George Street. It was his father who took care of the house for him. He found the letter in the mailbox in front of the door and sent it in time.
The time Mr. Bro wanted to meet Jenkins was at ten o'clock this Saturday morning, at the Quill Writers Club, or Fiddley Writers' Association, downtown. He just happened to be going to the city to deal with the matter entrusted by Miss Audrey, so he stopped by.
Unlike the low-key Mr. Ink Club, the Quill Writers Club is on Silver Cross Road, the main road of the capital, and opposite is a bookstore called Owl. Standing across the road, Jenkins can even see his fairy tale books displayed in the glass window Inside. Several children gathered in front of the bookstore, lying on the glass, watching Snow White on the cover bend down to pick up the green poisoned apple.
"I'm looking for Mr. Blow."
Walking into the gate of the club, he took off his hat and knocked on the reception desk with his fingers. The young girl looked up and saw Jenkins' face, and almost cried out:
"You are, Mr. Williamette!"
"Yes, can you tell me where Mr. Bro is?"
"Oh, yes, of course. I'm a devoted reader of Stranger's Tales, and it's a really good book...”
Some over-enthusiastic girls personally sent Jenkins to the door of the room, and he could only smile and say goodbye to her.
"Long time no see, Baron William."
"Long time no see, Mr. Bro."
The rich businessman stood up to greet him with a smile on his face: "Although it is a bit late, I still want to congratulate you on winning the Ritter Award. I think you don't mind if we print this message on the cover of the book." superior."
"Of course I don't mind."
He waved his hand and sat down, and the businessman immediately called the servant standing by to pour the wine.
"It's a pleasure to meet you in Beldyland, it's quite a beautiful city. Oh, it's not that Norland is bad, it's just the air..."
He waved his hand in the air, and Jenkins nodded with a smile:
"Hopefully the new scheme that will be implemented next year will play a role, but I remain pessimistic."
"Me too."
He winks at Jenkins, and they clink their glasses.
Mr. Burrow was originally a bookseller in cooperation with the Church of the Sages. After accidentally obtaining the publishing rights of Jenkins' books, the business even got implicit support from the Church. Compared with when the two first met, his career has expanded to an astonishing scale.
Of course, a keen businessman knows what is the reason for this. He will not make trouble with those golden coins and beautiful banknotes, so he knows what he should do most.
This time the amount of the book payment was 793 pounds, far exceeding Jenkins' expectations. Even if the profits in foreign countries are distributed to local booksellers, the cumulative effect is very considerable.
The two chatted for a while about the political news and then the club. Mr. Bro strongly recommended Jenkins to become a member here, because all the well-known writers in the kingdom are members here.
"How many pounds do you need?"
he asked bluntly.
"If it is someone else, it will cost about 23 pounds a year, but you don't need to spend money."
He shook his cup: "Ordinary writers hope to make more powerful colleagues here, and also want to use this place to promote their books. But you don't need these. I know that the Church of the Sages also owns shares in this club. They How crazy do you have to be to charge you a membership fee?"
Become a member of the club and get a delicate feather-shaped badge. Most cities in the country have branches of this club, which of course includes the city of Norland. After becoming a member, Jenkins can get a lounge in the club at any time without spending a copper, enjoy the activities in the club, and get free three meals, afternoon tea and supper services.
He has no reason to refuse.
At the same time, Mr. Burrow wanted to know how Jenkins' next book was being prepared and whether it could be published by the end of next year, and he got a very pleasant answer.
"I still need to revise some details. At the end of this month or the beginning of next month, I can probably come up with the first draft."
"Have you finished writing?"
"It can be said like this."
"Oh, my honorable Baron, please accept my bow. I have never seen such a hardworking and famous writer as you. May the sages bless every writer with your spirit."
Saying goodbye to the enthusiastic businessman, the man and the cat set off again. When Miss Audrey was young, her dance teacher was named Hill Caroline. This poor old man lived alone in an alley in a slum.
Just after paying the fare to the coachman, Jenkins saw two carriages with police badges parked at the entrance of the alley, and there were also some pedestrians whispering nearby.
"Oh, sage~"
He sighed softly, picked up the cat that was following him, and walked over. The alley has been blocked by the police, but some corpses with obvious gunshot wounds can be seen lying inside.
"Excuse me, what happened here?"
He asked the middle-aged police officer who prevented the crowd from approaching. The police officer looked at his clothes carefully, raised his hand and twisted the hat to a suitable position so that the police badge faced forward, and then said in a polite tone:
"Dear sir, there was a gang of bandits fighting here last night, and unfortunately the residents nearby were involved. We are dealing with the corpses of these poor guys. Although there will be no plague in winter, we must find a place to bury the corpses place."
"Excuse me… "
As he spoke, he took out a note from his pocket anxiously: "Well, yes, how is Mrs. Caroline who lives in Room 201 of Apartment 3?"