Steampunk: Sixth Era Epic

This was Mr. Franklin's third visit to request an intervention, and once again, the task was to forcibly remove young Franklin from the illegally operating club where he was addicted to the Roder Card.

Mr. Franklin had had enough. He planned to sell his properties and quit his job soon, abandoning the struggle he and his wife had endured for thirty years in the prosperous capital of the northern Tobesk, to relocate with his family to the western Kingdom, to the so-called "City of Art" in Atak City. Mr.

Franklin's brother had been living there for many years and could introduce new work opportunities for the family.

Of course, more importantly, it was to keep young Franklin away from those bad influences, away from the Roder Card and gambling tables.

"After I bring him back this time, I will lock him up at home. I will take him directly on the steam train next month after we finish moving," said Mr. Franklin. "So, Detective Hamilton, can you get my son out of that club?"

The client confirmed the order.

This matter only needed Shard to set off immediately to enter the club and then convince young Mr. Franklin to leave with him, so the accountant offered 13 shillings and 3 pence, which was just over half a pound. For an accountant earning around £70 a year, this was about a week's wages.

The commission fee included the club's admission ticket and an extra subsidy for traveling at night. Although it was worth less than half a cat compared to the commission for finding Mia, Shard considered it and accepted.

He had only recently seen the Franklin family's case in the records left by the previous detective, which included the process of the detective convincing young Franklin to leave with him.

"It's a simple task, without any potential mistakes," Shard remarked.

The orange cat stayed at home, worried about Mia being frightened, Shard even left hurriedly without turning off the gas light. Mr. Franklin waited at home for news, while Shard, due to the long distance, chose to take a carriage to his destination.

In Tobesk City, the fare standards for hired carriages varied depending on where passengers boarded and where they were headed. Within a 4-mile radius centered around Yordle Palace in the city center, destinations under 2 miles were charged 1 shilling, followed by a 5 pence charge per additional mile. For long-distance travel outside the central district, the fare per mile became cheaper.

Shard's destination was conventionally referred to as the Lower District, also known as North City. Considering the additional tips due to the night travel, he paid a total of 3 shillings when he got off at a dimly lit alley.

Fortunately, the Franklin home was also in the North District, so no more carriage rides were needed after finding young Franklin.

Meanwhile, the costly fares of the hired carriages made Shard aware of the stark disparities between the rich and poor in this bustling Steam Age, and highlighted the numerous challenges he faced as someone from the lower class.

The city night was quiet, but Shard, who had become a First Ring Sorcerer, felt a terrifying sensation akin to staring into the abyss in the silent, long night. Tobesk, the largest city in the north, and its secrets and unknowns, the eerie atmosphere of alley shadows and apartment corners, were most definitely plentiful, but thankfully, Shard did not encounter these this evening.

"This world... is much more dangerous than I imagined."

The club called "Lucky Southern Cross," had its main entrance located on Grass Hill Avenue. But to enter the gambling area of the club, one had to approach through a back door in the alley.

Following the records left by the previous detective, Shard circled around in the dark until he spotted the silver-gray rusted iron door. Meanwhile, a stray cat suddenly leaped from a wall top, startling the detective and leaving him annoyed at his own "cowardice."

After knocking on the iron door three times cautiously, and waiting for a full half minute, a tall man with a beard, dressed in a black coat and leather boots, cautiously opened the door from inside.

"This is no place for young people," he said, glancing at the young detective and pushing him slightly. However, surprisingly, he failed to move him. Even as a First Ring Sorcerer, his physical condition had significantly improved.

"Are the rules here that barbaric?" Shard inquired.

He showed a Silvermoon 13 Roder Card, the one he had found earlier that morning on the rooftop of the pet boarding center, and then added,

"I am here to see Mr. Roder for some matters concerning the table."

He then provided three one-penny coins as the entrance fee.

"Did you think you were... coming here for the first time?"

The bearded man glanced at the card, confirming the password was correct.

"Someone recommended me."

Shard answered in a deep voice. The bearded man sized him up once more before stepping aside to let Shard enter the dimly lit corridor lit by yellowish gas lamps.

The detective immediately raised the collar of his coat to cover half of his face and cautiously looked left and right in the alley before proceeding.

"Although this is an illegal gambling den, you don't have to do this..."

The bearded man muttered behind Shard.

The corridor was quite dark, filled with a disgusting scent of sweat, alcohol, and tobacco. Only ten steps in, doors began to appear on both sides of the corridor, all slightly ajar, letting the harsh light from inside spill into the hallway and the sounds of chaotic shouting and hands striking tables could be heard.

Shard didn't enter any of the doors. He cautiously continued forward, quietly using "Echo of Blood" to check his surroundings. He didn't detect any obvious bloodstains, indicating that there was no more serious illegal activity here, at least.

"Although it's not a combat sorcery, it's mysteriously very useful," he thought.

The corridor led to the club's brighter eastern hall, where dozens of tables covered with tablecloths were set up. Well-dressed gentlemen, drunks just out from the bar, and workers who had just finished their shifts were all gathered around the tables, excitedly waving their money in the still dimly lit area, watching the gambling taking place on the tables.

The Lucky Southern Cross Club was divided into three levels, and only guests with sufficient status could go to the gambling area upstairs. Little Franklin was obviously limited to mingling on the first floor. The last time Detective Sparrow Hamilton visited, he found the young man lying drunk in a corner of the eastern hall.

Because the hall was so crowded and Shard had only heard from Mr. Franklin about Little Franklin's attire and appearance, he didn't immediately locate the young man.

He held a one-shilling note in his hand and quickly blended into the crowded hall. He repeatedly paused by different tables, watching to see if he could find the person he was looking for, but he definitely wouldn't throw the note onto a gambling table. The cost of the carriage ride had already been painful enough, and Mr.

Franklin didn't reimburse unnecessary expenses incurred during the investigation.

After half an hour, he had almost checked the entire eastern hall but hadn't found his target. Instead, while pretending to study the betting at a table, he overheard gamblers chatting about an interesting event that had happened here an hour earlier.

A young man with a gray hat, wearing a sailor's shirt and his face full of freckles, had accumulated too much debt at the gambling table and was taken to the second floor to be forced "to pay it off."

Shard didn't know what "paying off" implied, but it didn't sound like anything good. He knew he had discovered Little Franklin's trail, and the young man's situation seemed quite grim.

Entering the club's second floor required showing at least ten pounds in cash, and a recommendation from an acquaintance. Shard had neither money nor acquaintances, but he had to proceed to the second floor. It was not time to give up, especially since it was his first official assignment.

After waiting for a while, fortunately, a group of about a dozen drunkards staggered out of a room on one side of the hallway and headed towards the second floor.

"Great opportunity!"

Shard moved to the side near the staircase entrance along with a few others but quickly steadied one of the slightly lagging drunkards, enduring his smell of alcohol, and supported him as he blended into the crowd, finally reaching the second floor as a detective.

"Making money is never easy," he thought.

Compared to the noisy first floor, the second floor was much quieter and more elegantly decorated. Even at night, it still functioned more like a club for drinks than a gambling den.