Old days, dice and investigator's manual

Isaac stared at Carlo for a moment. This guy who called himself a private detective had come out of nowhere, and now he wanted to hire him as an employee. It all seemed a bit strange.

Seeing that he remained silent for a while, Carlo waved his hand: "Judging from your reaction, you still don't trust me. That's right, hesitation is normal. After all, anyone with a brain would hesitate when faced with a suspicious stranger who suddenly appears out of nowhere."

"...You are quite self-aware of your own suspiciousness." Isaac was somewhat speechless.

"Of course, if you don't hesitate, then I'll have to wonder if you're not very bright." Carlo put his hands in his trench coat pockets. "Anyway, I'll be staying in Palmer for a while. If you have an idea, you can come find me at the Amherst Mansion."

"You don't have an agency?" In Isaac's mind, private detectives like this always seemed to have an agency, big or small.

"I'm here in Palmer on business; the firm is in Vista."

Vista, the name flashed through Isaac's mind, the capital of the Westerlands, the largest and most prosperous city in the entire Westerlands. His adoptive father, Edward Lessing, had spent a few years in Vista before eventually moving to Palmer, and the old professor would occasionally mention those days in Vista.

However, Isaac has lived in Palmer since he can remember and has never left. After all, traveling between cities is not easy these days, and most people never leave the city where they were born. Those who can travel between cities are either doing so for work, or they have a wealthy family or deep connections.

"Well then, think it over carefully." Carlo's voice pulled him back to reality. "You don't need to give me an answer right now, but I'll be going back once I've finished things here, so it's best not to delay too long."

After saying that, Carlo didn't wait for Isaac's response and turned to walk down the steps, as if his words were just a casual remark and he didn't care at all whether Isaac would actually come to him.

Isaac watched the gray figure disappear around the street corner, then looked down at the suitcase and rolled-up bedding at his feet and sighed.

His original plan was to check the condition of the safe before making any further plans, but now it seems that just registering it will take up most of the day, and he doesn't even have a place to stay right now, so it's too inconvenient to carry all these things around.

and……

"Not everything is suitable for the city police to help recover."

Isaac glanced back at the bank lobby, but didn't wait to register any longer. He picked up his suitcase and bedding roll, turned around, and walked down the steps against the flow of people.

The most urgent thing is to find a place to stay... By the way, is that person staying at the Amherst Mansion?

……

Heading south from Palmer Central Plaza and turning onto a street, Isaac stopped and looked up at the building in front of him.

Armourton Mansion.

This building stands out starkly from the rest of the street. The surrounding residences are mostly simple and neatly arranged on both sides of the road, while this one occupies a large area of ​​land and even has an untended garden, exuding a solemnity that is completely different from the ordinary atmosphere around it. However, time has left obvious marks on the building: moss climbs the walls, the glass is cracked and has not been replaced, and the railings are rusty, revealing a sense of desolation due to neglect.

It clearly didn't belong to ordinary commoners, but it also didn't seem like the property of a nobleman. Isaac had heard of the history of Armorton Mansion.

During the Wars of the Churches, the Armorton family was considered one of Palmer's most prominent noble families, and they spent a considerable sum to build this mansion. However, not long after, Lord Armorton was accused of colluding with heretics, and Palmer's official church judged him to be a heretic and ordered the "purification" of his entire family, leaving the mansion vacant ever since.

Local nobles and wealthy people were unwilling to take over the property that had been tainted by heretics. It wasn't until many years later that the mansion was purchased at a low price by a businessman from out of town and converted into a hotel.

In this era, there were naturally few proper travelers; the hotel mainly catered to one type of person—freelance mercenaries.

The wilderness routes between cities were long and fraught with danger, capable of costing travelers their lives. Therefore, anyone needing to traverse the wilderness either brought their own guards or hired temporary mercenaries, leading to the rise of the mercenary profession.

Mercenaries are generally divided into two categories: one is organized mercenary groups, many of which have now evolved into security companies. These mercenaries are organized, planned, and protected. After completing a mission, they will return or be stationed at a local base. The other category is freelance mercenaries. After escorting their employers to their destination, they will find a place to rest and wait for the next commission.

Amorton Mansion was one of the bases in Palmer City that accepted these people. For free mercenaries, the heretical past of Amorton Mansion was not a taboo, after all, most of them held faiths from other regions, and after the Covenant of Religions, as long as they did not infringe on the sovereignty of the local church, the church generally would not be too hostile to outsiders, at least not openly.

As Isaac stepped onto the stairs, the door was open, and a foul odor, a mixture of various indescribable ingredients, wafted towards him.

To the left of the entrance was a counter where an old woman sat knitting. To the right was an open lounge with several round tables scattered around. Mercenaries sat around the tables, some drinking, some dozing, and others glancing at Isaac, probably judging from his attire that he didn't seem to be there with a mission, before quickly looking away.

Isaac walked to the counter, placed his luggage at his feet, and the old woman glanced at him, her knitting continuing: "Looking for a room?"

"Yes, ma'am, how much does the room cost?"

"Single room or shared room?"

"A private room."

The old woman put down her sweater and opened the register: "5 shillings per night."

Five shillings? Isaac was taken aback; this price was much higher than he had expected.

Seeing his troubled expression, which suggested he was a young man who hadn't yet entered the workforce, the old woman patiently explained, "Most of the rooms have been converted to shared accommodations. There are only a few single rooms available. If you think it's too expensive, you can choose to share a room, or you can sleep on the floor in the lobby for 5 pence a night."

Isaac glanced at the mercenaries sprawled haphazardly in the hall, then at the suitcase and rolled-up bedding at his feet: "Let's have a single room for the night."

He took out his wallet from his pocket, pulled out a five-shilling note, and placed it on the counter. The note was predominantly dark blue, with the amount printed on one side and the bird-of-war coat of arms of the Ogilvy family on the other, symbolizing the Grand Duke of the West's guarantee of the currency's credit throughout the West.

The old woman took it, examined it carefully, and felt the texture of the paper to confirm its authenticity. Isaac then casually asked, "By the way, does a gentleman named Carlo Schuster live here?"

Since deciding to come to Amherst Mansion, Isaac had been walking quite fast, but he still hadn't seen Carlo on the road. However, since that person had asked him to come to the mansion to find someone, he should be able to ask at the front desk.

Upon hearing this, the old woman flipped through the register again and shook her head: "This name has never been registered."