Chapter 80 Still can't come up with a title
Chapter 80 Still can't come up with a title
213
The moist, slightly salty sea breeze blows across the port of the City of Generosity, flowing like the sea water past the hard-working fishermen and porters.
Richard Ernst wore an old trench coat, a half-new scarf, and came to the Bayam Intelligence Agency that Garland had told him about, carrying his small suitcase. This agency not only sold intelligence, but also occasionally acted as a pimp between adventurers and pirates.
But it is limited to mutual introduction, because the intermediary cannot guarantee whether the two parties will cooperate sincerely. It is not uncommon for the adventurers to be secretly killed on the sea, or the pirates to be killed in a secret place, so the intermediary service is often not open.
Richard, who looked ordinary and common with a face that looked like a Feysac, did not attract much attention when he first entered the tavern. Only a few extraordinary people with higher inspiration looked at him a few more times. After reporting the secret code and Garland De's name, the waiter took him to the hidden annex of the tavern in the name of taking him to see the wine. In the basement of the brewery, the old intelligence dealer who was old but still fierce and had several scars on his face looked at him twice, stretched out his hand, and said in a hissing voice: "Deposit."
"I haven't told you my request yet." Richard looked at him with a smile, and without waiting for his answer, "I'm a member of a research organization. I need a boat to conduct research and fishing in certain sea areas."
"A secret organization?" Hearing this, the intelligence dealer thought for a moment, "So, what you need is a ship and enough manpower. If you don't buy the intelligence, the agency fee will be 10% of the final employment fee."
Richard began to bargain skillfully: "10%? Sir, that's too expensive. I heard from Mr. Garland that your agency service will fail at least six times out of ten, and the pirates you introduced are all desperate criminals. I think 8% is enough. I should have asked Mr. Garland to help me, but this operation is very dangerous and I don't want to drag him down. Haha, believe me, even 8% is enough to make you feel lucky to have done this business."
The information dealer looked at him like an idiot, his disdain evident in his words: "Boy, this is not a market, this is the generous city of Bayam where you can do whatever you want. If you weren't familiar with that gentleman, I would chop off your head and soak it in Sonia blood wine!"
Richard thought about it and felt that there was really no need to take action now. If a veteran intelligence dealer was gone, his supervisor would be very distressed before a suitable candidate was found. He was not very willing to contact the Spiritual Cult. Then he thought again that he could reimburse the teacher for the money, so he might as well be straightforward. He put on a very sincere smile as if spring flowers were blooming: "It's really scary. I guess you are also a famous pirate. Well, 10% is 10%. Please contact a suitable pirate team for me."
The intelligence dealer completely thought that He was an idiot who had no experience in the world. He actually said something like "pirate team". He couldn't help but sneer: "If you really have so much money, go and hire the four kings and seven generals!"
Richard answered very seriously: "Yes, I can, but I don't want to have anything to do with them."
The information dealer was speechless for a moment, and had nothing to say to this naive boy: "Then tell me your requirements and price."
"This is a relatively dangerous mission, and I personally hope to return before December. I want to return home before the end of the year."
Richard said this seriously, and the intelligence dealer suddenly felt that his sloppy pirate uniform had turned into formal attire, his headscarf had turned into a top hat, and the dagger in his hand had turned into a feather pen. He should not be in Bayam's underground intelligence station, but in an office in a certain city. A strange feeling made him sit in a more formal position uncomfortably.
"I have a sufficient budget, and I will settle it in Loen gold pounds. I will pay 600 pounds in advance for the voyage, and another 200 pounds for a safe return. In addition, I hope that the pirate team I hire is also Beyonders, and they cannot be too low-level. Their ships cannot be too bad, otherwise they are likely to be damaged during the mission."
The information dealer was speechless: "What do you think I am?"
Richard frowned: "Can't you find it?"
"You kid..."
The information dealer was about to get angry when one of his men ran in from the door and made a gesture of "there are guests outside". He felt that he had indeed talked with this tall guy for a long time, so he perfunctorily wrote down the requests and waved his hand to send him away: "You can go, leave a message... You were introduced by the gatekeeper, so I will contact the gatekeeper directly. I will notify you when there is news, if there are pirates who are willing to take your job."
Richard understood and left through the back door.
After He left, the next person who came in was wearing a dark headband casually, and his dark blue hair, which was curly like seaweed, was casually draped over his shoulders. As soon as he came in, he went straight to the intelligence dealer's table and lowered his voice and said, "...Is there still no news about the disappearance of slaves in the southern continent?"
"Captain Ghost, you are too impatient. You just asked last week."
"You know I care about this."
"But I can't find any information on this. The slave trader you're looking for is nowhere to be found either. It's as if he fell into the sea with the people he sold." The intelligence dealer returned to normal and had time to play Tai Chi with Alger. After a few rounds of back and forth, the intelligence dealer suddenly had an idea and casually mentioned:
"But you came at the right time. I have a business deal here."
Alger frowned and sneered: "Is there anyone who dares to do intermediary business with you? Who is so rich, or is he not afraid of death?"
"He wants a team with Beyonders and a sturdy ship to do some investigations at sea," the intelligence dealer said. "It will be settled before the end of the year in Loen currency, with a minimum remuneration of 500. Of course, I'll take 10% of it."
This price made Alger raise his eyebrows and couldn't help but think about it. As one of the "captains" of the Storm Church who acted as pirates, it was completely fine to take on some private work, and it could also earn some intelligence for the church. Moreover, the generous rewards would make the sailors willing to cover up for the captain and report false accounts, because they would naturally get a share of the salary for enjoyment.
It's a fat sheep. Alger didn't refuse: "I'll think about it."
But he was not going to go through an intelligence dealer, as the 10% handling fee would cost him a lot of money. Alger was going to use his connections to contact the buyer who made the request, so that he could have more money left.
214
"Amon, do you want to go out for a walk?"
"What? No, I haven't finished reading this book yet..."
"you think."
215
On Saturday night, Klein was preparing a simple dinner for himself in the kitchen when he heard a gentle knock on the window from the direction of the oriel window on the first floor. He turned around and saw a crow.
This crow was very strange. It was all black, but there was a white eye circle on its right eye. It also wore a small black pointed wizard hat on its head. It looked like it was domesticated. The crow held a small paper roll in its mouth and stood on Klein's windowsill. It knocked on the window with its wings very cleverly. When Klein opened the window, it jumped to the side to prevent itself from being scratched by the window. This crow did not make any strange noises. It was as quiet as a black chicken.
"Messenger?" Klein was very curious and looked at the rolled-up note in the crow's mouth. "Is this for me?"
The crow tilted its head and looked at him for a while, then opened its mouth in front of Klein, letting the paper fall into Klein's palm, and stepped back very politely. But it did not leave, instead it lay down on the windowsill, as if waiting for Klein to open the note or even write a reply. This made the fortune teller even more interested. This spiritual look made him more certain that the one in front of him was definitely not a simple domesticated animal, but at least an extraordinary creature like Miss Justice's pet dog.
It's just... it looks a little familiar...
I feel like I've seen it somewhere before, but I can't remember where. Klein unfolded the note and saw the neat Loenese:
"How are you doing recently? I would like to visit you before dinner time tomorrow. Please tell the crow your answer and it can pass it on to me. If tomorrow night is not convenient, I will visit you another day.
If there is anything you want to eat, you can tell the crow."
Klein looked at the note in surprise, then at the crow: "Are you Mr. Edward's messenger? (The crow shook his head) Sure enough, I saw it once before, and I thought it was a cat or a dog (The crow nodded). It turns out that you can have more than one messenger? (The crow shook his head)"
The fortune teller was even more surprised. He was quite tempted by the last sentence on the note, but he felt it was not a good idea to trouble Senior Angel.
"Can you really tell Mr. Edward?"
Crow nodded.
216
The crow fluttered to the Cherwood District and landed on the outer wall of the villa that was low-key on the outside but luxurious on the inside. He entered through the small window specially reserved for him. Right below him was a super high space that connected the first, second and third floors. He fell downwards in free fall, quickly regaining his human form during the fall, and then stood firmly on the ground with both feet.
"What a nice smell." Amon sniffed and stood in the hall on the first floor looking towards the kitchen. "What are you doing?"
"Osmanthus cake."
A few meters away, Edward's voice clearly reached his ears. He was full of curiosity about the food he had never heard of before. He walked quickly to the side of the restaurant and asked very politely: "Can I sit here?"
Owl on a hanging bar: "Coo."
Amon then jumped briskly to the dining table and sat down in an empty chair. There were some semi-finished products on the table, a piece of kneaded dough that was being sealed and fermented, with a hunter's spirit next to it, pitifully keeping it warm; shrimps that had been peeled and cooked in warm water, with thin dough next to them; dough rolls wrapped with meat and vegetables... Amon looked at them and tried to decipher the names of these delicacies with his ability as a cryptographer, pancakes, shrimp dumplings, rice rolls, custard buns, seafood porridge, puff pastry cakes...
The mythical creature didn't know if this feeling of looking forward to tasting the food was human nature, but it was undeniable that the food from the old days was very novel to him. After waiting for a while, a voice came from the restaurant, asking him to steal the steamer and oven for 45 minutes and half an hour respectively.
Edward stood in front of the stacked steamers with his arms folded. Amon looked at the strange food containers stacked one on top of the other and emitting a lot of steam, and asked, "Is this a cooking utensil from the old days? It looks like it's used for steaming, and each layer can hold a lot of food."
Edward hummed.
After Amon had accurately stolen the necessary time, he opened the top steamer. The rough-surfaced pastries inside were just cooked, with light yellow petals mixed in between the layers. The white steam was mixed with a faint sweet fragrance, filling the kitchen like fog.
Edward cut a whole round cake into eight pieces, took out one, sprinkled some special osmanthus honey on it, put it on a plate, and handed it to Amon.
Amon looked at the cake in his hand and thought he should cut a piece with a fork, but this elastic food was not suitable for knife and fork. So he carefully broke off a piece with his hands and put it into his mouth.
"It's delicious." He chewed and said, "The sweetness is very light, like tea, the dough is very elastic, and the taste is different from bread and cake. Is it because of the different production methods? Can I have another piece?"
"Okay." Edward nodded, and the steamers and ovens behind him opened one by one. The shadowy spirits took out the freshly baked food in an orderly manner, decorated and plated them one by one, and then delivered them to the dining table before the master's footsteps. Soon, a table full of various delicacies was set.
The semi-finished products were cleared to the other side of the table. Edward picked up a shrimp dumpling and put it in his mouth. He asked Amon, who was sitting opposite him and taking a bite of each dish, "Did you find anything from Klein Moretti?"
"I didn't see anything. Maybe there is nothing, or maybe it's not the right time yet." Amon scooped a spoonful of mushroom and fish porridge, enjoying the cultural crystallization of the old civilization. "He accepted your invitation... Oh, it smells so good. I don't think you need to ask him what he wants to eat. These things should be something that people in the old times could not refuse, and I can't refuse them either."
"Some plants don't even exist. How did you restore them?"
“It’s not that it doesn’t exist.”
Edward stretched out his hand, palm facing up. His arm quickly became dark and dry, as if it had become a sculpture of a dead tree. His fingers turned into roots, and tiny vines and branches grew out from where the veins were originally, entwining together and growing upward into light-colored branches. A small tree grew out of Edward's palm. Then the branches grew green leaves and bloomed pink and white flowers that Amon had never seen before, and then suddenly collapsed when they bloomed to their fullest. The branches that still had flowers on them turned into smoke and dispersed, and a few small petals just happened to fall on the cakes and porridge in front of Amon.
“Some are indeed extinct.”
"But there are some things that don't exist in this world."
"I fished them out from the records of civilization and gave them the 'possibility' of growth again." His arms returned to their normal skin color, as if nothing had happened, except for a few fallen petals.
Amon thought thoughtfully: "Perhaps you can see the answer you want in him. What possibilities do you see in me?"
The god looked at him deeply and ate slowly.
“In you, I see the stars.”
"It's just you. You have the possibility to go there. And the possibility to become my student."
TBC
--------
What should this chapter be called? Should the first half be called "Come and see the angel bargain", and the second half be called "Come and see the outer gods cook"... So the structural characteristics of this article are really not suitable for naming each chapter...
(End of this chapter)