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The end of the exam slowed down the tense pace of life a little, but the upcoming 15 practical credits and the Holy Prayer Day had nearly filled up the schedule for the next week.
Shard had no ti to give himself more opportunities to relax.
Early Sunday morning, after having breakfast, Shard left the house. The whole week's delay finally allowed Mrs. Ler's inheritance acceptance to proceed.
This not-so-brave middle-aged woman, having believed the horrifying rumors from her neighbors, had taken her children to live in the countryside temporarily after the citywide martial law ended last Friday.
Seeing that nothing else happened in the Tobesk Urban Area, Mrs. Ler finally returned to the city and, as originally planned, accepted the inheritance of the deceased sailor on Sunday morning at her ho.
Mrs. Ler had an unfortunate marriage, her husband having left early on, and she alone raised her two children. The family of three lived in a cramped rented apartnt in the north of the city. When Shard stepped off the rented carriage and, following the house numbers, found Silver Gray Lane, he was stunned by the unsanitary living conditions.
This was the quintessential slum, a living scene of the lowest class of citizens of this era. As an outlander from another land, his impressions of backward-era slums ca only from his own imagination, having previously just glanced at them when passing by nearby. Only by truly walking into it did he understand that everything was worse than he had imagined.
Even though it hadn't rained recently, the ground was still muddy. Taking a deep breath, he slt the fluids scattered on the muddy ground, emitting a strange odor, mixed with the alley's itself, causing incessant nausea. The damp, dark, and sowhat strange alley was different from the city's streets. Even the officers from Riddlevitch Field on patrol wouldn't venture lightly into it.
Compared to this bustling and crazy era, the slums of Tobesk seed like a tiless anomaly that had fallen behind by three hundred years. Just yesterday night at Queen Maria's Opera House, Shard had seen the best of this era, and now he was witnessing its worst.
"Maybe this isn't the worst, I just can't see those places far from the city... What was that soft thing I just stepped on..."
He was very glad that he had chosen to wear boots today.
Mrs. Ler lived in an attic at number 6 Silver Gray Lane, sharing a kitchen and bathroom with the other residents of the building. After knocking on the sowhat greasy door downstairs, a plump woman wearing a hairnet answered.
Only after he explained his purpose was Shard allowed to enter, stepping onto the narrow staircase and having to turn sideways to make room for a young person carrying a pile of books and wearing patched clothes at the turn of the stairs.
The first floor was where the landlord's family lived, and the dim and damp second and third floors were divided into more than ten areas rented to different poor families. A large gas ter hung at the dim staircase landing, and the wrist-thick rusty gas pipes crawled along the moldy walls to each household on the floors.
The old-style gas ter emitted an unnaturally clear clicking sound with each tick. Although Shard knew that such outdated equipnt should have been phased out and was likely still in use because the landlord couldn't afford replacents, he still felt that the clicking sounds served as a warning to the poor people living there, that their every use of gas ant pennies slipping from their hands.
The sll of mold and a variety of strange odors mixed in the air, and every step on the stairs elicited creaking noises.
Even though it was Shard's first visit, he was certain that such a place must be rife with disease and parasites. Not to speak of humans, even animals accustod to living in the wild would struggle to survive long in such an environnt.
The simple staircase at the end of the third-floor corridor led to the attic. Shard knocked on the door, and the middle-aged woman he had not seen for over a week indeed answered. Seeing the detective arrive on ti as arranged, she smiled and let Shard in.
Shard had co ten minutes early, but to his surprise, Lawyer Laurel had arrived even earlier.
"It's you!"
The lawyer stood up to greet him, then recognized the young man he had played Roder Card with, and imdiately thought of his abnormally excessive performance that day:
"Wait, you didn't approach
that day to investigate , did you?"
"I have the right to keep my client's secrets."
Shard said with a smile, then walked forward and shook hands with the lawyer:
"But this ti, I'm truly here to help Mrs. Ler accept the inheritance."
"I know... I also know you are earning more from this trip than I do. Is a detective's inco always this substantial?"
The two n shook hands lightly, and sure enough, Lawyer Laurel didn't bring up the money he had lost to Shard last ti.
Occupied with work, the Locke Laurel of today was very different from the image he portrayed in the tavern that early morning. At the very least, he didn't suggest playing another round with Shard after the work was done.
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Like all the residents nearby, Mrs. Ler's household was cramd into an attic just as dilapidated. Shard even subconsciously ducked his head when he entered and then realized that he would have to be at least a Mia taller to hit his head on the ceiling.
The children were not ho now, so Mrs. Ler served the detective and the lawyer with tea cups that had been washed very clean.
The three of them sat down at a dining table shored up by old newspapers under its legs. The three chairs were each of a different style, and it was reasonable to believe they were all second-hand goods of several users.
The ho was kept very clean; perhaps the family's life was very strained, but the middle-aged woman maintained an optimistic attitude. Sunlight stread in through the attic window, neatly covering the stains on the floor that could never be completely cleaned up. The attic was undivided, with the dining table by the entrance and then two mattresses laid directly on the floor.
The family needed money, and although the thought was sowhat cruel, that sailor who died because of the rmaid Statue died at just the right ti.
Everything on the dining table had been cleared away, and although there was still a sour sll, at least it looked tidy. The lawyer took out a manila folder from his briefcase and solemnly took out the docunts. He handed them first to Mrs. Ler, who then passed them to Shard.
She could not read much, and the advertisent for the Hamilton Detective Office was read to her by a neighbor.
The docunt was the text of the will, handwritten in blue ink with a date from a year ago. It seed that the sailor who often went to sea had long considered that he would one day et with an accident.
"If there's no problem with the will, we can start transferring the inheritance now,"
Lawyer Laurel said, and Shard asked him to wait a mont before he carefully read it through: Enjoy exclusive content from My Virtual Library Empire
"No problem."
Mrs. Ler was very satisfied with the detective's thoroughness.
"The inheritance is divided into three parts. First is the cash portion. Mr. Jonathan Lemaire stored 53 pounds and 4 shillings in cash with a friend. Because the probate of the will involves inheritance tax, you will receive 49 pounds, 16 shillings, and 7 pence."
The lawyer pushed the envelope containing the money, along with the tax statent, across the table to the middle-aged woman, who awkwardly took the envelope and counted the number of notes inside, while Shard read the tax statent.
If the inheritance was transferred privately, of course, it would not involve taxes; but for an inheritance notarized through City Hall, taxes must be paid. It was no longer warti, so the tax rate was not very high. An inheritance tax of around five percent was mainly because the property was transferred from another location.
"No problem."
Shard whispered to his employer, who nodded nervously. The notes in front of her were already sorted by denomination – they were indeed the right amount.
"The second part of the inheritance is Mr. Jonathan Lemaire's personal collection, mainly consisting of souvenirs from the New World and various items obtained during his voyages at sea. The value of these items is difficult to estimate; because...most of them are worthless. There is no need to pay taxes on these items, and additionally, Mr. Lemaire left no inventory of his belongings, so I cannot guarantee that everything is here."
As he spoke, the lawyer bent down, picked up a black briefcase from the floor, placed it on the table, and after a few snaps opened the locks and lifted the lid. He then pushed the case, which had red ink markings on it, toward Mrs. Lemaire. It seed haphazardly packed with the contents not arranged neatly:
"By the way, this briefcase is also part of the Relics, not provided by ,"
the lawyer added, likely since he thought the case itself might be more valuable than the items inside.
The sailor's collection was very rich: black ore, fish specins, colorfully painted masks with strange smiles, badges of unclear significance, anchor-shaped pendants, wooden toys, and so on. At a glance, they all seed like bits and pieces, but if described as travel souvenirs, they could be acceptable to people.
Shard initially worried there might be sothing dangerous among the Relics, even fearing that the rmaid Statue that belonged to the sailor had been sent to Tobesk. However, until the briefcase appeared in front of him, he sensed no Whisper Elent.
After getting permission from Mrs. Lemaire, he took out the items from the briefcase one by one for inspection. Not even a whisper sounded in his head when he touched them.
"After all, it's not that easy to co across a 'Relic'."
"Distant relatives," "sailor who died at sea," "inheritance" – these keywords together seed like the start of a classic horror novel, but at least this ti, everything appeared normal, so Shard signaled for the lawyer to proceed with the last part of the inheritance.
"The third part of the inheritance is Jonathan Lemaire's personal effects. He spent many years at sea and left so personal items with a friend – roughly diaries, clothing, and so books. This part of the Relics also doesn't require taxes, but likewise, there is no inventory."
With so effort, he lifted the last briefcase onto the table, opened it, and pushed it toward Mrs. Lemaire.
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