Steampunk: Sixth Era Epic-Chapter 473 - [King’s Secret Order]

Today, Miss Servit finally didn't wear the Head Maid's dress. When Shard opened the door downstairs and saw the girl outside, he was initially surprised, and then he dared to confirm that the person before him was indeed Miss Maid.

Her black hair was tied back into a complex style with a wide purple headband, dangling behind her, adorned with only a silver-white four-leaf clover hairpin for decoration. Her thick black hair parted on the right side of her forehead, with wisps tucked behind her ear on the right, while on the left it was combed diagonally, almost covering her eyebrow.

She was wearing a high-quality blue ladies' gown made of textured fabric, adorned with some silver-white slender lines on the sleeves without additional colors elsewhere. A discreet black belt circled her waist, and on her feet, she wore a pair of black flat leather shoes.

Seeing Shard's surprise, Miss Servit looked down at her attire and then raised her head to meet Shard's gaze with her beautiful hazel eyes:

"I'm sorry, is there a problem with my attire?"

"No problem at all, it's just that I've never seen you dressed like this before... you look beautiful."

Shard nodded his approval, stepped aside to let her in, and the day's detective work officially began.

After organizing the information obtained at home, with Liumia looking after the house, Shard took Miss Servit in a carriage to the Lower District's Hymn Square, and then they entered the Three Cats Inn located around the square.

The last time Shard investigated the spice merchant, he had chatted leisurely here with a doctor and the doctor's friend. Today's Three Cats Inn was no different from that day; weary travelers lodged here, while others sat chatting and drinking on the first and second floors.

The poetess plucking the lute was seated on a high stool on the small stage to the east side of the inn, softly singing a melancholic song that seemed to be a tribute to the love story of an ancient legendary hero.

If it weren't for the brightly lit gaslight above her head, Shard might believe he had stepped back into the bygone epoch of medieval adventures.

During the daytime, the Three Cats Inn didn't accommodate prostitutes, drunkards, or gamblers; at this hour, it was running a respectable business.

After Shard and Miss Servit entered the inn, they each ordered some drinks and sat down at a table near the counter on the first floor, where Shard introduced her to some of the inn's specialties, as she seldom visited this area. After a while, they stood up and approached the counter, calling over the proprietress who was voraciously on her way to the kitchen to scold the loudly quarreling chefs.

She was a woman in her forties, wearing a reddish-brown cloth headscarf, with dull skin and a face dotted with blemishes. She was slightly shorter than Shard but seemed to have a large frame and a broad figure. To run an inn of such size in the bustling Hymn Square, the woman was clearly no simpleton.

"I apologize for the inconvenience, but do you remember Mr. Frank Bondi?" Shard inquired as he placed a shilling coin on the counter, which the landlady naturally accepted:

"The blind man who lives nearby?"

She spoke quite rudely, glanced at Shard's expression, and then said insincerely:

"Sorry, that might have been poorly phrased, given that his eyes have been healed now."

Shard gestured to his assistant to start taking notes, then continued to ask:

"Have you known that musician for many years?"

"Yes, he used to come here often to drink, and he always ordered Coldwater Port's mild rum brewed from sugarcane bagasse. He was unmistakably blind but still managed to find cheap dames here every week. A bachelor isn't burdened with many expenses, so he was quite generous. A few months ago, his eyes miraculously healed, and he took to playing Roder cards with the guests here, but the stakes were small, so he never accrued any debt... Oh!"

Her eyes suddenly widened as if she had realized something:

"Did Bondi skip out on a gambling debt playing Roder cards at your place? I was wondering why I hadn't seen him for so long."

The landlady thought she'd uncovered the truth, but Shard shook his head:

"I don't run a gambling house, and Mr. Bondi didn't run off. He committed suicide in the middle of last month."

Upon hearing this news, the landlady who had spoken so rudely before twitched the corners of her mouth slightly, her face showing a peculiar expression, as if she momentarily wanted to show grief but ultimately just said simply:

"Such misfortune, to lose a regular of many decades."

The voice suddenly grew somber, and she bowed her head to fiddle with the glasses on the counter. After a while, seeing that Shard didn't speak, she asked again:

"So who might you be? What brings you here? I'm thinking you're not here to find girls, given the lady behind you is prettier than any I know."

Shard glanced at the girl beside him. Miss Servit smiled briefly but remained silent, continuing to take notes, maintaining the habits she formed while being a Maid.

Shard thus handed over his prepared business card:

"I am a Detective. I'm currently commissioned by the Noan Opera Troupe to investigate the reasons behind the suicide of the blind musician, Mr. Frank Bondi."

The female proprietor was clearly literate; she raised her eyebrows upon seeing the address on the card:

"Saint Delan Square? Tsk, his friends really are wealthy. Alright then, what would you like to know?"

"How was Mr. Frank Bondi's mental state during his last few visits?"

The woman picked up the cloth from the table again:

"I remember, right after his eyes were healed, he was very keen to chat and play cards with the guests here. But on his last few visits, he was just like when he was blind, sitting in the corner alone, drowning his sorrows in drink."

She pointed to a table in the corner of the first floor, which was currently unoccupied due to the sparse morning crowd.

"Then, did Mr. Bondi exhibit any extreme agitation or anything of that nature?"

Shard asked further.

"No, there was none of that."

The proprietress shook her head while wiping glasses:

"He didn't talk to others, so naturally nobody bothered a man who was drinking alone."

This made sense, but it also meant that there were no valuable clues to be found at the Three Cats Inn.

"However..."

The woman hesitated as she looked at Shard:

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"Bondi did have a girl here he was quite fond of; he usually spent his money on her. Since he often stayed the night with her, I suspect our girl not only knows about Bondi's recent mental state but might also have some of his possessions left behind."

"I need that lady's address."

"I can't just tell you that; after all, we run a sensitive business."

Shard knew this was an excuse—she merely wanted him to fork out another payment for information. He thus took out a shilling coin, but the woman shook her head:

"Not enough, it costs this much."

She shook her thick, scarred right index finger.

"10 shillings?"

"No, 1 pound."

"Oh, ma'am, I don't even make that much from a single deal."

Shard immediately shook his head, and the shop owner laughed:

"I've heard Mr. Bondy say that Noan Opera Troupe is very rich, you must be making a lot from this deal."

But the problem was, Shard had not received any commission from the opera troupe.

Miss Servit standing behind him wanted to speak, but Shard shook his head to stop her. He could afford one pound, but he didn't want to be taken advantage of for no reason:

"How about this."

To the shop owner's astonishment, he pulled out his own Roder Card Deck from his pocket, drawing the two ghosts-blessed "Southern Carsonrick Folklore: Moon Dance Festival" and showing it:

"Let's make a bet. If I win, you tell me that lady's address; if I lose, I give you two pounds, and you tell me that lady's address. I've heard you're also a Roder Card expert who likes playing with players who have Special Cards. What do you think, interested in having a game with me?"

The fact that the shop owner was a Roder Card expert was something Mr. Madison, the doctor's friend who sold special spices, had said. (Chapter 362)

The woman behind the counter revealed a smile amidst her surprise:

"No, if we're going to bet, it has to be for something bigger. I do enjoy playing with players who have Special Cards. So, let's do this: you put up your card as the bet, and I'll put up mine. Whoever loses gives up their Special Card. Win or lose, I'll give you the information for free."

She leaned forward slightly:

"Detective, do you have the guts?"

Shard looked down at the stake the shop owner had put forward—

"King's Secret Order: Substitute," Suit of Flowers, number 2: When you draw this card, you can swap it with an opponent's unshown hole card, but you can't stop drawing cards in this round. If the opponent has no hole card unshown, this card has no effect. (Note)

On the card, a man dressed in a luxurious robe and wearing a crown sat on the throne, with a shadow that seemed to hide another person.

Seeing this card, Shard raised an eyebrow. The "King's Secret Order" series of Roder Cards were issued about 120 years ago when Carsonrick and Draleon signed the first edition of the Continental Peace Treaty. This set of cards was to commemorate the peace that was hard won.

The entire series consisted of 15 Special Cards, one for each number from 1 to 13, and one King and one Queen. Five of them were given to the Draleon Royal Family, five to the Carsonrick Royalty, and five were released normally. More than a century had passed since the original "King's Secret Order" was issued, and most of these fifteen Special Cards were treasured in the hands of nobles from both countries, valuable not just in themselves but also as historical mementos.

Only three cards from the series were of unknown whereabouts, and Shard hadn't expected to see one of them here:

"Genuine?"

"Of course, the certificate of authenticity is right here in my hand."

"This card is worth more than my Moon Dance Festival."

Shard pointed out, but the shop owner smiled:

"No worries, I like betting Special Cards with others. This card, too, was won in a bet. In my eyes, all Special Cards are of equal value."

"No, I won't take advantage of you. I'll use this to bet with you."

Shard drew the Moon Nine's "Demon: Soul Stealer Bishop" (Note), and this time, it was the shop owner who was astonished:

"The legendary Demon Series? Genuine."

"Of course, but the certificate is at my house. I expect you wouldn't doubt that a detective from Saint Delan Square would lie at a time like this. After all, my reputation is at stake,"

"Your card is worth more than a substitute."

"To me, the value of a Special Card is the same."

Shard replied with a smile, shuffling the two cards back into the deck.

Actually, it was because he believed the chances of him losing were very slim.

"What an interesting opponent... Detective, the Big City Players tournament next month has already entered the official registration phase. Have you signed up?"

The woman behind the counter seemed to have her interest piqued.

"Of course, and I received an invitation from the Prophet's Society. I'm a special entrant,"

Shard said.

"Well then, let's treat this as a warm-up match before the Big City Players tournament begins. This is really interesting; I didn't expect such an exciting event so early in the morning. Detective, wait a moment, since I'm playing cards with an experienced Roder Card Player like you, we should make it official. Also, you may address me as Mrs. Sangmi,"

She said, leaving the counter to signal the inn's servers to help clear the central table on the first floor and join two other large tables to form a Roder Card gambling table.

Shard and Miss Servit stood to the side waiting, and the idlers in the Three Cats Inn who were drinking so early in the morning, upon hearing that someone was challenging the owner and staking their own Special Cards, also excitedly gathered around.

Miss Maid, with a notebook in hand, quietly asked Shard,

"Mr. Hamilton, that conversation was quite spectacular, just like something out of a detective novel. However, do you often use card games to gather information?"

"Not often, because not everyone plays Roder Cards. Besides, a typical detective wouldn't use card games to get clues,"

Shard said, then turned to look at the dark-haired girl beside him. Her eyes, although of a very common brown that seemed black, were still very beautiful. This wasn't only because the shape of her eyes made them slightly alluring, Shard thought, but more importantly, there was a rare light in Miss Servit's eyes, clear and pure.

"Moreover, I don't actually play cards that often, at least I've never actively sought someone out for a game,"

Shard explained his habits while the dark-haired girl gently laughed beside him,

"I thought you were the type who gambled everywhere, collecting Special Cards."

Probably because she wasn't wearing her maid dress, she could joke with Shard.

"No, no, although I like Special Cards, I don't gamble everywhere. Like the time I went to Coldwater Port, during those two weeks there, I only played cards with one person. This Demon Series card was something I won there."

"I see, that seems like a pretty legendary story as well,"

Miss Servit said, and at that moment, the setup of the table was complete. Shard walked over and sat down on the chair on the west side, draping his coat over the back of the chair behind him. Just like before, Miss Servit stood behind him, resting her hands on the back of the chair too.

Mrs. Sangmi, the female owner, sat in the chair on the east side of the table, and the crowd gathered around, but as per etiquette, they could not touch the card table or directly stand behind the card players.

"This is a fair gamble between 'King's Secret Order: Substitute' and 'Demon: Soul Stealer Bishop'."

She announced loudly, a voice that even attracted the attention of many guests staying above the third floor of the inn.

Daylight shone through the east side windows, illuminating the center of the first floor's table from the second-floor atrium. Shard touched his nose and a smile curled at the corner of his mouth; he still liked this kind of match very much.