A Madman’s Guide to Chapter 36: Storms Brewing... Maybe?

While Samuel studied the Travel Guide, the tailcoated gentleman at the front podium had already finished his opening remarks.

He raised his hand, and a young Attendant imdiately placed a yellowed, slightly frayed-edged piece of parchnt onto his open palm.

The parchnt lay flat in his hand, and ink imdiately began to spread across its surface.

This appeared to be an item with extraordinary effects, paired with the blackboard. Its function was simple: it would organize whatever was on the blackboard and synchronize it in real ti onto the parchnt.

It was not particularly powerful as extraordinary items go. Manufacturing it wouldn’t be difficult; even Samuel, who had just gained the Toymaker Law Mark and had no access to extraordinary materials in this world, could easily make one using ordinary materials.

“Looks like quite a few new faces today,” the tailcoated man scanned the room and said thoughtfully, “Seems like sothing big is about to happen. Why wasn’t I notified? Does nobody like

as the host? I’ll be so hurt.”

“All right, all right. Since that’s the case, to accommodate our new friends, let

introduce myself again.”

“I am the host here, codena Pride. You may call

‘Mr. Host,’ ‘Mr. Pride,’ ‘Dearest Mr. Pride,’ or simply ‘Dearest.’ I don’t mind any of those.” Mr. Pride offered a smile that was anything but proud.

His face wore a courteous smile, overly friendly even, incongruent with the codena “Pride.”

Huh? The Seven Deadly Sins?

Samuel’s ears twitched.

This seed to be sothing like organizational codenas?

Samuel felt like he had found a goal and a dream.

If this organization exists, he absolutely had to get inside. He would at least get himself a role of Lust or sothing.

Pushing aside the mismatch in numbers in his mind, Samuel took the pen prepared for the gathering from the small pocket on the side of the sofa, placed the Travel Guide beneath the parchnt, and began to write his requests.

Up front, Mr. Pride briefly covered a few rules and procedures for the gathering—anonymous submissions, private transactions, prohibition of conflict, the usual. He glanced at the clock on the wall and wore that apologetic smile again. “I truly apologize for wasting the regulars’ ti.”

“As the na implies, I might be a bit more arrogant and self-centered than most. I am truly sorry, please forgive .”

“All right, the gathering officially begins.” He held the parchnt in one hand and raised the other in a “hand-raising” gesture.

“Let

read everyone’s requests.”

“First, a gentleman needs a bodyguard to protect him covertly for a week. The pay is one thousand yur per day, totaling seven thousand yur. We expect at least one assassination attempt by a three-mark Law Seeker during that period. If anyone’s interested, inform an Attendant later and we’ll arrange a private eting.”

The mont his words fell, Samuel suddenly sensed a subtle change in the environnt.

Everything around Samuel seed to fade in an instant.

It was not true fading, but a perceptual thinning—things felt unappealing, inconsequential, optional.

The crackling of the fireplace, the occasional rustle of fabric in the corner, the sll of dust mixed with old wood—these background details blurred and thinned, losing their texture, as if viewed through a sowhat filthy frosted glass.

In contrast, the tailcoated gentleman on the podium beca bright and striking in people’s senses, as if belonging to a different layer than his surroundings, emitting a soft yet intense attraction.

Samuel wasn’t heavily affected—more curious than anything—and turned his head to look. But several people nearby had their attention suddenly drawn to Mr. Pride; even the black-robed man who had been staring earlier couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

Sparse murmurs started up, mostly about that phenonon, and discussions the attendees had been having were interrupted.

“Eh? This skill looks so familiar. I think I can do that too,” Samuel joked to Celt over their group voice chat. “Seems like it’s the sa type of substitute as mine.”

“Mm, the attraction is average, and he can’t seem to draw the attention of inanimate things yet—still a bit lacking,” Celt evaluated.

“All right, all right, they’re all over a hundred years old. Don’t be so harsh on the youngster.” Samuel smiled.

“That’s you,” Celt said drowsily, “I’m only a day old. My birthday isn’t even three hours away.”

“Well, by biological age I’d only be eighteen years and one day.” Samuel replied, then added, “Psychologically I’m still young—overall, I’ll forever be eighteen.”

He hadn’t been affected and continued chatting with Celt. “By the way, he said there are quite a few new faces here today.”

“I’m new and don’t know anything, but judging from his expression, this seems rare.” Samuel wrote as he spoke, “Looks like sothing big.”

“A storm’s coming, but it doesn’t directly involve .” Celt yawned. “But it probably involves you—you always poke your nose in.”

“Try not to cause too much damage,” Celt warned.

“Wow, since when did you beco such a worrywart?” Samuel stopped writing, skeptical. “Is that even ?”

Celt smiled. “Of course. I’m just one facet of your personality, if—”

“Never mind. Anyway, if nothing happens beforehand, maybe you’d be the sa as .”

“I’d throw up,” Samuel said.

Mr. Pride continued speaking. He briefly amplified his presence and then dispelled the effect—after all, that ability could be sowhat off-putting at tis.

Soon the chatter subsided.

Samuel pushed his chair back, dragged it sideways, and casually sat beside soone.

“Hey, brother, brother, what’s a three-mark? Is it strong?” He didn’t ask the black-robed man who had been staring earlier; there was probably no point.

The man he approached stiffened nearly imperceptibly. Beneath his tal mask, his brow probably furrowed. He turned his head to look at the overly bright-smiling stranger who had suddenly sat beside him; his first reaction was vigilance and annoyance at being disturbed.

But for so reason, that annoyance inexplicably faded; his emotions cald, and he felt little reason to remain angry.

“A newcor, huh? Cut them so slack.” That sentence popped into his head.

He instinctively took this as his own thought.

“Newcor?” the man said, his voice muffled by the mask.

“Yes, yes.” Samuel nodded imdiately. “I, uh, just beca a Law Seeker today.”

He had just used his Bard ability to nudge the man’s goodwill toward him up to ‘ordinary friend’ level.

He was basically a cheat for social interactions—activated!

Samuel held up five fingers. “I’ve only been in the Law Seeker path for less than five hours.”

“You don’t need to tell

that, and don’t blurt it out,” the man shook his head.

Then the man began to explain Samuel’s question.

“A three-mark refers to a Law Seeker who has inscribed three Law Marks within themselves. For a newcor, that’s fairly powerful.”

“Mm,” Samuel nodded. “How powerful exactly?”

“There’s no exact standard. Different Law Seekers walk different Laws and specialize in different fields, so they perform differently depending on circumstances.” The man, for so reason today, felt unusually patient.

“But typically, broadly speaking, a three-mark Law Seeker’s area of influence is roughly one or two streets. I’m not talking about the capital—more like a remote town.”

“They can’t completely destroy or fully control an area. Think of them as equivalent to a small professional military force.”

“Oh, I see.” Samuel made an enlightened face and thought silently. If he himself reached three marks, could he contend with a modern army? The first ntal image wasn’t dieval infantry but a modern military squad—sothing he understood better. A standard tactical team... hmm... probably not. But influencing one or two streets was doable; covering them with illusions would be straightforward and not too resource-intensive.

After a few seconds, Mr. Pride glanced at the parchnt and continued. “If you’re interested, write it on the paper and hand it to an Attendant. During the gathering’s break, we’ll let you et privately.”

“The next request: a weapon. A lee weapon, nothing obscure—easy to pick up, ideally even a fool could learn to use it. Price varies based on quality.”

“Then soone wants to buy a batch of standardized firearms, requirents are...”

“Then there’s...”

“And also...”

Samuel listened with relish, like an audience mber not actively participating but fully engaged.

Storms brewing? He smiled silently, fingers tracing the Travel Guide’s cool cover.

Bring it on.

After all, he always had a way to put himself at center stage and watch the show.

Samuel had handed his written requests to the Attendant a while ago. The Attendants would shuffle the order and anonymously copy them onto the blackboard, so he didn’t know when his items would be read aloud.

Besides what Celt had added, Samuel included a few of his own items. But most were “for sale” rather than buys.

He put so small toys he invented into the transaction list and had the Attendant write them down. These were for the second half of the event.

Mr. Pride seed to adjust order based on complexity of the requests. He didn’t know how much longer the map-related matter would take.

But he had already bought a pillow.

He could pick it up in three days. It cost only twenty sien. Equivalent to one hundred [currency units].

“Not gonna lie, that’s pretty expensive for a pillow,” Samuel teased Celt in his head.

“Hope it cos with a matching blanket, otherwise I’ll feel cheated.”

“The next request is for a Law Mark.”

“The buyer requests any one of the ‘Dancer,’ ‘Stargazer,’ or ‘Tailor’ Law Marks.”

“The clarity of the Law Mark must et a secondary criterion: it should give a one-mark Law Seeker a chance to obtain a second Law Mark through visualization.”

He paused and added, “The buyer will pay two thousand yur, non-negotiable.”

“We will have specialized people authenticate, so please don’t fake anything.”

“Stargazer? I have that.” Samuel wrote down that he was willing to trade and planned to hand the paper to an Attendant when one passed by.

He tapped the Travel Guide. The Guide imdiately drew an image.

It seed to be an eye, a silhouette looking upward, and layers of starry sky.

Three images appeared as simple sketches, overlapping and hard to distinguish or interpret—beyond what the human eye could easily parse.

“Simplify it, simplify it,” Samuel reminded the Guide. “This is too vivid.”

After a while, Mr. Pride continued reading. His tone hesitated as he looked at the next request, seeming puzzled by what was written.

“This next one... hmm... Everyone, please act within your ans.” Mr. Pride read down the parchnt. “We will also authenticate this, so don’t try to cheat.”

“They need a detailed map of the Royal District of Odius—detailed as possible. If only a rough route is provided but it can still give an overall understanding of the district’s layout, we can offer 100 yur. The more detailed, the more we will pay, including but not limited to building functions, patrol routes, potential sentry locations, underground structures, etc. There is no upper limit to the price.”

When this request was announced, the entire gathering fell silent.

What the—?

Is this a rebellion?

No, dude, are you seriously asking this here?

The crackle of the fireplace and the faint airflow from the vent beca unnaturally loud. Silence persisted for thirty full seconds.

Then a heated discussion erupted. People started whispering intensely whether they knew each other or not, voices suppressed but fierce, forming a buzzing chorus. Several people who had been slouched against their chairs instinctively sat upright and scanned the room, especially the heavily wrapped figures whose identities were hard to discern.

A group of attendees looked visibly terrified. They happened to be sitting next to a knight from the royal city; the nearby low pressure made them afraid to breathe.

This compelled Mr. Pride to once again use his extraordinary ability to attract everyone’s attention. That familiar, peculiar sensation spread again.