The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 428: A mad dog seeking excitement

It was indeed illegal to overthrow Henry Street.

But who makes the laws?

In this regard, Kingsley changed his previous attitude of "never getting involved" and patiently discussed with Rose:
On the Streeters' legitimacy.

If a miner did this, the consequence would be either being hanged or his entire family would be hanged (if he had any family).

But look, who did this?

Peggy Streeter.

A Streeter, Henry's sister, a true Streeter.

She has enough legitimacy.

"I must first say: idle talk, miss, is just idle talk. If our country can welcome a queen, why can't the Streeter family? It is more difficult to govern than the whole country?"

On the way back, Kingsley leaned back in his chair and said quietly:
"Besides, there are many more people supporting Peggy Streeter than our Supreme."

Almost all the miners showed varying degrees of trust and affection towards the girl.

"To some extent, the mayor and the sheriff do not rely on the local government or even the country - this is the case on the surface, but secretly, everyone knows who allows them to eat meat and drink wine."

Rose's eyes dimmed: "Street."

"Yes, miss. It's Streeter. They live on this land, get married, have children. Then the children grow up, get married again, and have their children's children--"

Kingsley spread his hands and repeated:
"They are superior people of different status, but they have long ago become one with this town and are inseparable from it. Among the citizens of this town are their friends, sisters and brothers."

The detective crossed his open hands and clasped them tightly.

"You can't get away from it. To these 'big guys', is there really that much difference between Henry Streeter and... Peggy Streeter?"

"As long as it 'seems' like it wasn't done by Miss Peggy, then..."

It was obvious what Kingsley was hinting at.

He paused and continued:

"Now, there is only one most important question left. But I think that this is not a problem at all for our Miss Peggy Streeter."

The problem is: women have no inheritance rights.

Even if the parents die, the daughter will not get any inheritance at all - she has to find an additional male blood relative to inherit, even if he is a very distant relative.

Their property and land will be passed on to the son of a brother or sister, while their daughter can only receive a small amount of gold pounds as a "generous gift" and leave the home where she has lived for many years.

This happens all the time.

But as Kingsley said.

Streeter doesn't have that problem.

Because Street is a baron.

——This brings us to the two exceptions for the nobility in terms of inheritance rights.

Kingsley told Rose that if he hadn't been distracted in class ten years ago and his memory hadn't been flawed:
The earliest title of Street was conferred by the King's writ, without fiefdom or military obligation - this special inheritance law should have been stated in the written document at the time of conferring the title. In order to allow the title to continue, the heir was defined as "regardless of gender, as long as he is the descendant of the title holder."

Therefore, whether it is "absolute primogeniture" or "male priority in primogeniture".

Whatever the category, Paige Streeter gets her 'Suo jure'.

The Latin phrase is:

Holding the title in her own name, not by marrying a man with the title.

——Of course, the premise is that she is the only bloodline left in the Street family.

This is already clear.

Kingsley used words as cold as a knife to clearly and accurately deconstruct this relationship, pulling apart the complicated threads one by one, laying them out on the table, and telling the people in the car:
This side is not a problem, and the other side is not a problem either.

Roland seemed a little abnormal.

He remained silent the entire way.

Rose didn't notice, she just chased after Kingsley and asked, "I remember you said 'never get involved', right?"

The detective's expression didn't change at all, the teasing in his words only made him raise his eyebrows:

"I am willing to provide some small - intellectual help," he looked at the silent girl beside him, "if Peggy Streeter can really become a ruler who is kind but strong, rational but not cold."

"I am willing to pay a small 'fee'... in return for her leading me to the truth (factory) earlier."

"My pursuit of the truth far outweighs my sympathy for these miners."

"This case is over for me."

Rose pulled a face:

"Do we need to 'pursue' the truth? Don't you have eyes today?"

"What you see is not necessarily true, Miss Shelley." Kingsley shook his head slowly, restrained his words, and was picky as was his character, choosing a few that were not too sharp (to prevent this kind, impulsive woman from making a scene in the car).

"At least we have not yet visited Mr. Henry Streeter. If this is the case, you must at least see him."

Rose stopped talking.

indeed.

They have to meet the 'ruler'.

Although the truth is out in the open, no one can deny it.

"He killed your parents, your brothers and sisters. How long will it take for you?" Rose glanced at the silent girl, angry at her cowardice, and even more puzzled as to why she had such great power but didn't know how to use it:
"If I were you, I would have come to his house with a shotgun and thrust the muzzle into his—"

"Miss Shelley," Kingsley interrupted the increasingly rebellious words, "You shouldn't encourage a lady to kill her last relative, and then use the people's trust in you to start a rebellion."

Rose raised an eyebrow, "Although, he is the cause of this 'last relative'?"

"Nevertheless." Kingsley nodded slightly: "Nevertheless, Miss Shelley."

Peggy clenched her fists, lowered her head and said nothing.

Then, silence began to spread.

The carriage drove all the way back to "The BBQ Hand".

Old Moore was looking out the door, his face full of anxiety - when Peggy got off the carriage, he was the first to come to the door and stared at the girl who had done him a favor with complicated eyes.

He moved his lips but no words came out.

Until they were inside, until Rose, Kingsley, and Roland went upstairs.

Peggy then grabbed the rag on the table and slid it across the bar while softly comforting the man: "...She's fine."

Three words.

Old Moore tensed up instantly.

“…I know what you’re thinking.”

The man said nothing, turned around and began to check the bottles and cans on the wine rack.

"If you promise me not to do some stupid thing like 'getting sick on purpose and then being there to keep her company'... I... I'll take you to see him - more often. Okay, Moore?"

Click.

A half-empty bottle of red wine fell to the ground.

Just like the fate of his daughter.

"It's the Streeters' fault."

Peggy grabbed old Moore's hand, her eyes filled with sadness.

The man avoided it.

He was like a shot beast, expressing his hysteria with trembling.

…………

……

On the second floor, Roland welcomed a guest who rarely came through the front door into the room.

Today I officially knocked on the door.

“If you are bored, you can go to the miners’ homes and steal something - let these poor, sick and miserable people experience the surprise of having nothing again.”

"Your mouth is like a venomous snake...Oh, I wasn't talking about you, Candlelight."

The white snake hissed, glanced at her, climbed up Roland's arm and hung around his neck.

Like a thin rope.

'Father, she's been so annoying lately.'

"What did it say?" Rose asked suspiciously.

Roland lowered his head to tease the little snake, and said nonchalantly: "She said you are getting more and more beautiful."

“Is there any need to say that?”

Rose glared at the snake and sat down on Roland's bed.

I always feel that this stinky snake didn't say anything good.

"What happened to you today?"

"I?"

"I feel like there's something wrong with you."

Roland shook his head and asked her, "Tomorrow we will go to see Henry Streeter - if the white soil is really spread because of him... Rose, I will help Randolph kill him and then leave Innis Town. Do you agree?"

Since he used the phrase "Do you agree?", it meant that Roland was aware of Rose's condition.

Obviously, this person might want to deal with this troublesome matter in a 'grand' way, more orthodox, more impeccable, more... exciting.

Mainly stimulation.

"What? Of course not!"

As expected, Rose sat up straight after hearing this: "Roland! We want the miners to elect their own leaders. We want to put Henry Streeter to shame! We want the people to choose their own leaders!"

"Peggy Streeter!"

"Don't you think she's kind?"

"She is kind and resolute. She comes from an orthodox family and her experience allows her to understand the suffering of the miners more deeply than those bigwigs - is there any more perfect leader than this?"

It's all bullshit.

Roland suddenly opened his golden eyes and looked at her quietly.

A long gaze.

Rose was a little scared when she saw it.

"... Roland?" She shrank her neck, tugged at his sleeves, and spoke even softer: "Do you think Kingsley and I are... wrong?"

"No, Rose. What I want to ask is..."

Roland narrowed his eyes.

“Do you care more about the result or the process?”

result?

process?

Rose was stunned.

"I don't understand you, Roland?"

"I mean, do you care more about 'Peggy Streeter liberated the miners and brought a good life to the miners in the town' or, 'Just take part in this exciting feast' - the result, the process, which do you care more about?"

Rose pursed her lips.

to be frank.

After leaving the "factory", the surprise and sadness gradually dissipated with the bumpy ride.

If she were facing a god who could not lie, she could only tell him: Lillian Rose Vansittart did not care about those damn miners.

The man and his son suffered, missing legs and arms.

The woman and her daughter suffered, being used by everyone all day long.

so what?
That's their life.

The environment she grew up in left her with only surprise and disgust.

pity…

Not much.

Because in this garden full of sad flowers, the cold sunlight shines on a group of blood roses that are competing for beauty.

It is difficult to tell whose flowers bloom more beautifully and whose tears shed sweeter.

There is a sad and touching story in every flower bud.

But when a thousand or ten thousand flower buds are swaying in the wind all day long, it is hard to feel sad for them.

"What's the story in your bud?" the flower next to it asked. "What tragic story?"

Rose would not explain it in detail, but simply answered: It's life.

and so…

She didn't care about the damned miner, nor did she care much about the so-called Peggy Streeter...

She pretended, lied, and deceived people, just for an interesting——

A carnival of extreme chaos.

She hoped that she could become a person in Peggy's "divination", and then manipulate it with her own hands and witness the carnival with her own eyes - wouldn't that be very interesting?
Many people have never seen such a scene in their lives, right?
How much land can they flatten?
How shocking would it be to see these people roaring in unison?

“I care about the process.”

The girl gritted her teeth.

Although he told the truth, he pursed his lips pitifully and opened his eyes wider than a cat that started shaking its butt to catch a bird - perhaps this is more touching?

"This is me, Roland. You know I'm not a kind person...right?"

The voice is weak.

She didn't actually want Roland to think that she was a 'vicious woman without sympathy' - wouldn't that make her look like that grey-haired saint bitch?
She thought that Roland's "distress" was because of those poor miners, and that her "ruthless and vicious" behavior, which only cared about her own enjoyment, was obviously contrary to that of a lady.

——But when she thought this, it also proved that she didn't know enough about the man in front of her who she loved.

The golden eyes slowly and gently warmed her neck.

It makes people feel weak.

"That's good."

The black-haired young man suddenly smiled brilliantly and wiped the black dust off her nose with his fingertips. It seemed that all the unhappiness of the whole day disappeared like morning mist with this light answer.

"That's good, Rose."

He said.

The girl choked for a moment and wanted to ask something, but suddenly looked towards the door:
Heavy and hurried footsteps came from the stairs.

A thud.

It was as if the whole person had hit the door.

"Quick! Quick, save old Moore! Quick - someone save him!!"

Paige cries.

(End of this chapter)