I will be crowned king

In the dusky evening, the tired old horse pulled the dilapidated taxi through the remote streets, panting and stopped in front of a black iron door; the two dark gas lamps on the side of the door almost made the coachman think that he had found the wrong person. Road, until I saw the sign on the iron gate, I was relieved.

Renai Welfare Home.

This is a public welfare organization maintained by the royal family and Clovis Cathedral in the royal capital, with funding from multiple foundations and donations from nobles. It targets the poor people of the kingdom, providing them with the most basic living security and making a living with their own hands. Your own chance...

...The above is basically from the content of "Kingdom Loyal News" and the propaganda posters of the Church of Order.

After getting off the carriage, giving the carriage driver three more coins and agreeing to wait for him here, Anson stepped forward with his hands in his pockets, stepping on the snow that had turned into silt, and knocked on the door of the orphanage.

Mrs. Coney, the dean who opened the door for him, was a kind-looking woman. She was dressed in the same outfit as the middle-class women who often walked in Baihu Park. Her rosy complexion looked even better than hers. Actual age is younger.

"May I ask you are……"

"Bumble, I have been donating to your welfare home in recent months." Anson lowered his head and lowered the brim of his hat, deliberately making his voice hoarse:

"Last month your hospital sent me a letter. One of my old friends, Oliver, passed away here and asked me to come and pick up his belongings."

"Ah... you are Mr. Bumble Brownlow!"

Mrs. Coney's eyes lit up with a red face, and soon tears filled her pupils. She sighed tenderly: "I'm sorry to let you hear such painful news. The will of the Ring of Order can never be guessed by us mortals. of."

"Mr. Oliver's belongings are well kept in the storage room. Please come with me."

"good."

Anson's back felt numb, and his right hand in his pocket held a piece of yellowed letter:

[As Bumble Brownlow, go to Renai Welfare Home on Westgate Street to collect Oliver's belongings, which are on the inside of his shirt. 】

With a sad but grateful smile, Anson walked into the dark Renai Welfare Home greeted by the enthusiastic Mrs. Coney.

The entire orphanage was transformed from an ancient watchtower. Legend has it that thirteen brave Clovis knights once used this as a stronghold to resist the tyranny of a certain tyrant and persisted for fifteen months under the siege of an army of two thousand people. day and night.

After seeing it with his own eyes, Anson believed that even if the legend was exaggerated, it was probably true - this was due to the orphanage's protection of ancient buildings, which had never undergone any decoration or transformation and kept the watchtower intact. It looked like it was when it was captured. There were even two skeletons that had dried for many years hanging under the broken door.

When Anson and the dean's wife walked into the hall, it was dinner time for the orphans in the orphanage; the children in linen bags were carrying small wooden bowls, and the fat chef reluctantly scooped out a spoonful of diluted water from the steaming pot. The porridge was poured into the children's bowls, which were not much bigger than a spoon.

Looking at the porridge that was finished in two or three mouthfuls and the hungry green eyes of the children, Ansen hesitated to speak.

"This is all thanks to your donation and the new policy of the Church of Order." The dean's wife noticed his expression and immediately said with a smile:

"Starting from last month, each child in the orphanage can eat half an ounce (about 16 grams) more oats per day; hahaha... of course you know that children of this age cannot eat enough no matter how much they eat."

"I know." Anson nodded:

"I have a sister."

"I see, your sister must be very happy to have such a loving brother like you."

"Yeah, I think so too." Anson twitched his lips.

The two walked through the hall and entered the storage room of the orphanage from a spiral staircase without railings; the moment they opened the door, the room filled with boxes of all sizes was filled with all sorts of weird resurgence and rotten smells. The taste comes from all over the place.

"This is it - I'm very sorry, it smells bad because it's rarely cleaned." The dean's wife covered her nose and handed a small key to Anson, and said nonchalantly:

"Mr. Oliver is cabinet No. 76. He is a really good man. He has never caused us any trouble. He did not forget to sort out his belongings before he died and left himself some money to buy a coffin."

Anson nodded lightly and took the key, and said in a hoarse voice: "I want to be alone for a while, is that okay?"

"Oh, of course!"

The dean's wife quickly left the storage room.

Listening to the footsteps getting further and further away from the stairs, Anson stood motionless until he could only hear the echo in the distance, then turned around and walked into the storage room, closing the door smoothly.

Following the brand number on the cabinet, he found Oliver's locker in an inconspicuous corner, and used the dim optical fiber of the kerosene lamp to unlock the cabinet.

A shirt, a pair of trousers, a pair of shoes and a workman's hat were piled messily in the not-so-large cabinet - these were all of "Oliver's" relics.

Putting down the kerosene lamp, Anson carefully took out his shirt and fumbled for a while; he tore open the patched pocket on his jacket with a little force, revealing three card-like things from the thin linen layer.

Picking up the three cards, Anson had a puzzled expression on his face.

This is a card made of some kind of milky white material. You can feel the elasticity when you shake it, and the surface is somewhat reflective. Each card is densely arranged with dozens of pinholes of the same size but in different orders, as if they were made of a certain Printed by a machine.

I turned it over and looked at it several times, and found that there were no traces of magic "rubbing" on the thin card; except that the material used to make it was a bit strange, it was just an ordinary card.

Is this the "goods" that unfortunately killed Miller Wirts?

After a pause, Anson subconsciously took out another letter from Karin Jacques from his coat pocket:

[Your Excellency, I wish to acquire from you the item that Andier Bognar sold for twenty gold coins at Wade's Pawnshop in the year 75 of the Calendar of Saints. A kind person told me that it is in your hands - letter Attached is a check from the Royal Bank for one hundred gold coins. 】

Is this thing worth a hundred gold coins?

Anson frowned slightly... Judging from the content of the letter, the person who wrote the letter must at least know Andier Bogner, have enough channels to establish a relationship with an Old God antique dealer, and can easily pay for it. One hundred gold coins.

Bogner...

He thought of Viscount Bogner on the Iron Sky and Mrs. Bogner at 55 Bremen Street.

Could it be a coincidence?

Well...it has nothing to do with me anyway.

Anson shrugged, hid the three cards in the inner pocket of his upper body shirt, picked up the remaining belongings of Oliver, and left Renai Welfare Home.

………………

Inner city, Friedrichstrasse, Truth Club.

"He's got it all."

Cole Dorian walked out of the basement with a cup of coffee in his hand and looked at Anson happily.

"So fast?" Anson looked at him a little surprised.

This is not even ten minutes!

"Everyone gets the stolen goods, so it doesn't mean much whether he recruits them or not." Cole Dorian placed the coffee cup in the center of the table:

"Besides, with Sera, a spellcaster who can read minds, there is no chance for him to lie."

Mind reading? !

Anson's back felt cold, and he suddenly remembered that the female judge was also present when he was interrogated last time.

How dangerous!

"Alas...Captain Lawrence is not here tonight, and Sierra and I do not have the authority to use torture instruments, so we can only keep him here." Cole did not notice the slight change in Anson's expression at all, and continued to complain to himself:

"In my grandpa's time, even the lowest-ranking inquisitors who had just joined the job could use torture instruments. How different is it like now - even the use of skull crushers and water prisons has to be reported!"

"..." Anson Bach.

Cole, who was sighing, looked at his expression and was stunned for a moment, then "Pfft!" and laughed out loud:

"I, I said...do you really believe it? Hahahaha..."

Anson breathed a sigh of relief: "So this is all fake, are you kidding?"

"Hahahahaha..." Cole Dorian laughed heartily:

"No, I'm serious!"

"..." Anson suddenly didn't want to talk to this guy.

"Okay, no more joking, let's be serious." Cole, whose face was full of happiness, spread his hands and looked at him seriously:

"Karin Jacques, what are you going to do with this guy?"

"Me?!" Anson was shocked.

"Yes, we have discussed this matter with Captain Lawrence - if Karin Jacques is successfully arrested without causing a commotion, then you will be able to decide how to deal with him." Cole explained:

"First of all, this is of course out of our mutual trust. Secondly... with this person here, it will be easier for you to report to the Black Mage afterwards."

"In the end, this guy was of no use to us."

"It's useless?" Anson was a little surprised.

"Seizing an Old God sect antique dealer and a low-level spellcaster has no meaning for the Inquisition." Cole curled his lips, and then said seriously:

"The powerful or large-scale Old God Sect organizations are our prey and targets."

"...I understand." Anson paused and said with some hesitation: "Let me think about it."

"It's up to you. Just let us know when you need to release someone." A hearty smile appeared on the face of the secondary judge again:

"I have other work tonight. If you need anything, just go to Sera - she will stay here tonight."

"good."

Anson nodded, and then asked casually: "By the way, where are you going so late?"

Before he finished speaking, Cole Dorian, who was about to stand up, suddenly stopped in place; on his motionless face, his deep gaze slowly moved to his side and stopped on Anson's face.

In an instant, an icy chill hit Anson's face!

The dimly lit cafe fell into an eerie silence.

Looking at Cole Dorian's unblinking eyes, Anson suddenly tensed up his heartstrings and raised the corners of his mouth pretending to be nervous:

"That...I...I'm just casual..."

Kor Dorian, who had an indifferent expression, was silent for a few seconds, and then suddenly burst out laughing again: "It's okay, don't be nervous!"

"It's just an instinctive reaction - the power of my bloodline always requires me to be vigilant, so I occasionally get a little nervous. Just get used to it, hahaha..."

This is so hard to get used to... Anson twitched his lips and rolled his eyes at him in an exaggerated manner: "You almost scared me to death!"

"Sorry, sorry, it's all my fault." Cole raised his hands casually, his eyes brightening with a smile:

"That's right! This is all compensation. I'll just satisfy the curiosity of the leader of our storm group tonight!"

"No, no, no... no, no, I just..."

"It's the Great Magic Book!" Cole interrupted with a smile.

He took out a slender metal box from his arms. It looked a bit like a playing card box but was very delicate. There was a small gear turntable on each of the four sides of the box.

The Lesser Inquisitor placed the box on the table, carefully turned the gears one by one, and then slowly put it away.

"Click, click, click, click."

Accompanied by the crisp sound of the machine, the four lock plates opened one after another; followed by a burst of fine gear sounds, the slender metal box unfolded layer by layer like a magic box.

Anson held his breath involuntarily.

This is the legendary "Great Magic Book", which records all magic from ancient times to the present, as well as the truth about the fall of the three old gods. This...

what is this?

Looking at the box of cards, Anson's eyes widened in shock.

"It's surprising, isn't it?" Cole raised his lips proudly, took out one of the cards from the box and gestured in front of Anson:

"No one would have thought that the "Great Magic Book" treasured in Clovis Cathedral is just a pile of small white cards full of pinholes."

"But then again...no one said that the "Great Magic Book" must exist in the form of a 'book', right?"

"What... is this?" Anson asked dumbfounded.

"Uh... the scientific name is very complicated. I usually just call it a magical memory card." Cole thought hard for a while, and then suddenly smiled:

"It seems to be just a pile of useless hard material cards full of pinholes; but if you insert this thing into St. Isaac's Steam Difference Engine in Clovis Cathedral... it will spit out a card full of words. The white paper contains what is on the cards."

"And this... is the reason why we dare to use the "Great Magic Book" to lure the black mage into taking the bait - even if the card is stolen by him, we don't have to worry at all, because all the difference machines in the entire Order World are in the hands of the church!"

He looked at Anson with shock on his face proudly, put the card back into the metal box and put it away in his clothes: "I want to return it to Clovis Cathedral tonight. The application period has expired - it's a pity that I didn't give it back." The black mage took the bait, and the application procedure for this thing is quite troublesome.”

Cole sighed again, smiled helplessly, waved his hand to Anson, turned around, opened the door and left the Truth Seeking Club.

He was the only one left in front of the empty bar.

"Snapped!"

Anson was stunned and slapped his pocket hard on his chest; the very hard sound echoed in the deserted coffee shop.

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