The world begins with refining skills

Chapter 560 Arrest! (Please Subscribe)

Queens, the highest area in the country.

It is situated amidst a cluster of magnificent palaces and a towering Gothic clock tower.

The palace is Sodrak Palace, and the clock tower houses the Bell of Order!

Sodrak Palace is the residence of the Loen royal family.

Its status in the world is equal to or even slightly higher than that of the White Maple Palace of Intis and the Olmir Palace of the Fussac Empire.

But its name is neither romantic nor ancient!
In Old Fusak, this word means "balance".

……

"138,430 pounds sterling...and four pence?"

Inside the Sodrak Palace.

Even with his crown, resolute face, and small mustache, King George III couldn't help but show a hint of doubt as he looked at the financial statements before him.

Although the figure in front of the gold pound was somewhat large, it was not worth the attention of the king of a powerful country in the northern continent.

Instead, it was the insignificant number 4 in front of the penny that piqued his curiosity!

Which pirate's bounty is this? Why are there odd and even amounts?

The Earl of the Royal Palace, noticing the change in George III's tone, quickly stepped forward to explain:

"Your Majesty, this four pence comes from the bounty offered by this pirate!"

The Earl of the Palace pulled one out from the bottom of a thick stack of wanted posters on the table and handed it to George III.

[Wanted Notice]

[Name: Tal Lake]

[Reward: 4 pence]

【…】

Even with George III's composure, he couldn't help but find the wanted poster in his hand somewhat amusing.

This was the first time he had ever seen a wanted poster with a 4p bounty!
To be a pirate to this extent is both pathetic and laughable.
Why be a pirate? Go home and farm!

what?
You said you have no land, no house, and no assets.

Then you should seriously reflect on whether you've worked hard all these years!
Why is it that in this powerful northern continent where everyone has 500,000 gold pounds in savings, three houses, and a horse-drawn carriage, you can end up with nothing?

"The pirate with four pence..."

King George III shook his head and chuckled, tossing the arrest warrant aside. He turned to the Earl of the Royal Palace beside him and asked:

What's the deal with that Knife and Hammer Guild?

"Have you investigated which mysterious organization is behind them, and through what channels they transported so many pirate heads into the kingdom?"

The smile on George III's face vanished, replaced by a serious expression.

Among these pirates with bounties, there are quite a few extraordinary individuals of mid to low rank.

This even includes the two of the seven great pirate generals, 'Vice Admiral Deepsea' and 'Vice Admiral Twilight,' as well as their subordinate pirate forces.

It's important to know that even a military power like the Kingdom of Rune has never been able to deal with these rampant pirates.

However, now, the heads of these pirates have been used by a group of low-level laborers to exchange for a bounty.

This is probably the funniest joke of the year!

The Earl of the Palace turned solemn and lowered his head in reply:

"The investigation into this 'Sword and Hammer Guild' is currently still at the secular stage. Although this guild has not been established for long, it has spread throughout the major cities of the kingdom."

"Its members are mainly workers and farmers!"

King George III raised an eyebrow and picked up the investigation report from the side.

The above details the organizational structure of the 'Knife and Hammer Guild' and information on its key members.

George III's gaze lingered on the union flag.

A hammer and a sickle!

"Workers and farmers? Hah..."

King George III sneered and casually tossed it aside.

This kind of peripheral organization, which is obviously being used as cannon fodder, is not worth paying attention to.

What George III truly cared about was the Extraordinary Ones organization that was pulling the strings behind all of this.

Are they other major powers? A mysterious organization like the Twilight Order? Or a cult of evil gods like the Aurora Society?

or……

King George III looked up at the location of the headquarters of the three major churches.

"Keep investigating. I need to know who's behind this union. I don't need to teach you how to investigate, do I?"

The Earl of the Imperial Palace broke out in a cold sweat: "Your Majesty, I know what to do!"

"Good to know, go ahead!"

...

...

Backlund, East District.

This is the area where the poorest people in the entire Backlund live, and it is inhabited by all sorts of people.

Workers, washerwomen, prostitutes, latrine cleaners, thieves, homeless children...

You can find a whole bunch of the most arduous, exhausting, humble, and dirty jobs here.

The pungent fumes from the factory mixed with the murky, fishy smells of the slums, creating a nasal irritation.

Anyone who walks around here will find their clothes soaked in the stench, making it difficult to wash off.

Marcos, however, was already used to this taste.

It wasn't just his psychological habits; his body also underwent adaptive changes due to living here for a long time.

On the contrary, the absence of the foul-smelling air outside the slums made Marcos feel uncomfortable, and in severe cases, he even felt nauseous and wanted to vomit.

"We bedbugs living in cesspools are a completely different species from those glamorous citizens outside, aren't we?"

Marcos has made this self-deprecating remark more than once.

Not to mention those vampire-like factory owners who didn't treat them like human beings, even Marcos himself didn't value his own life.

His motto was to live for the moment, spending all his money immediately on food, alcohol, or prostitutes.

I'll work hard to save money and learn a useful skill so I can move out of the East District as soon as possible.

Marcos had never even considered such a thought; it was not a wishful thought that someone like him should have.

Walking on the dirty and chaotic streets, the vendors on both sides occupied most of the road, making the already narrow road even more congested.

When walking in such places, be careful to avoid pedestrians and avoid bumping into or making physical contact with others.

Otherwise, your wallet will suddenly disappear.

A gust of cold wind blew by, and Marcos unconsciously tightened his coat, which was so dirty that its original color was no longer discernible.

"It's getting cold, let's go for a drink!"

After a moment's thought, Marcos changed course and headed toward the 'Scavenger's Bar' on another street.

The bar is said to be named this because the owner was once a homeless scavenger.

After he made his fortune, he opened this bar!
Carefully avoiding the ragged homeless children and turning down the fireflies beckoning customers from the shadows around the corner, Marcos arrived at a bar built of gray bricks and black wood!
As soon as he pushed open the door, the damp, stuffy air from the bar rushed into Marcos's nostrils.

Marcos took a deep breath, the stench of sweat and alcohol instantly filling his lungs.

This stale air, under the influence of some diseased alveoli, completes a conversion between oxygen and carbon dioxide.

"It's so comfortable here!"

Marcos took a breath of the sweat and alcohol fumes and immediately felt refreshed, with most of his fatigue disappearing.

"boom!"

He slammed the bar door shut, and the already noisy atmosphere became even louder.

Some people were loudly playing drinking games, while others were gathered around the ring in the middle of the bar, shouting and cursing to cheer on the boxers they had bet on.

Some people sat in a corner, drinking and talking.

Marcos skillfully walked to the bar, sat in his usual spot, and placed a few copper pennies on the bar.

"Hey Tom, give me a rye beer!"

The bartender swept the copper penny into the drawer under the bar and then poured Marcos a large glass of golden beer.

"Marcus, I haven't seen you much lately. Where have you been making your fortune?"

The bartender, sporting a small mustache, chatted with Marcos with a smile.

"Gulu~Gulu~"

Marcos picked up his glass and gulped it down, drinking more than half of it in one go.

After letting out a comfortable burp, he then complained to the bartender with a disgruntled expression.

"Make a fortune my ass!"

"You son of a bitch, you vampire born from your mother's affair with a wild boar!"

"They said it was cold and wanted to charge us for heating while we were working in the factory, deducting a third of our wages!"

"That fat pig who deserves to go to hell! It was so hot in the summer, it was almost like being roasted alive, why didn't he give us a raise?"

"You son of a bitch, I wish his factory would go bankrupt soon!"

Marcos grew increasingly angry as he spoke, and in one gulp, he picked up his glass and finished the rest of his beer.

"Continued Cup!"

Marcos pulled a few copper pennies from his pocket and poured himself another glass of wine.

While pouring him a drink, the bartender with the mustache reminded him, "If that fat pig's factory goes bankrupt, you'll be jobless too, won't you?"

Marcos, however, didn't care at all: "So what if he's gone? If I can really bankrupt that wild boar bastard and leave him with nothing, I'd be happy to starve to death!"

Marcos wasn't just bragging for the sake of saving face; he genuinely thought so.

Anyway, he's just a worthless man. If he could see that fat pig who sucks the marrow from the bones turn into a beggar, he would be willing to give his life for it.

The mustachioed bartender smiled upon hearing this, and while wiping the glasses, he chatted with Marcos.

The conversation gradually shifted from cursing his vampire boss to women, then to gang warfare, and various gossip.

In short, we just talked about whatever came to mind.

It has no valuable content and no meaning whatsoever; it's simply a condiment for drinking.

After Marcos downed three more large glasses of rye beer, and as he began to feel the effects of the alcohol, he decided to go home and sleep while he was still feeling dizzy.

Fortunately, he had run out of money, so he didn't have to worry about being robbed on the way.

Just as he stood up, a group of people suddenly rushed in through the bar's entrance.

A group of workers, with rough skin like Marcos and wearing filthy, blackened coats, were exploited and oppressed by the factory owner.

However, what puzzled Marcos was why this group of people had such a good temperament.
It's not that they were particularly clean, but rather that their hopeful expressions about the future made them stand out.

"They're from the gay community, didn't you know?"

The bartender noticed Marcos's expression, answered his question, and then asked him a question in return.

"A gay association? Should I know about it?"

Marcos was even more confused and sat back down.

Seeing that Marcos seemed genuinely unaware, the bartender kindly began to explain to him:
"Did you see the other badges on their clothes? Crossed swords and hammers, that's where their name, the Swords and Hammers Guild, comes from..."

"The Knife and Hammer Guild? Didn't you just say they were from the Comrades' Guild? How come they're different now?"

Marcos seized on the loophole in his statement.

The bartender sighed, "Looks like you really don't know anything!"

"The Comrades Association is the Knife and Hammer Union, and the Knife and Hammer Union is the Comrades Association!"

"Because these people always refer to each other as comrades, some people call them the Comrades Association."

“So that’s how it is…” Marcos finally understood.

I instinctively reached into my pocket, wanting to get another rye beer, but I found nothing.

"I'll buy you a drink on credit, pay next time you come!"

The bartender didn't say anything, but turned around and poured him another large glass of beer.

Although I knew Marcos didn't have much money, as a regular customer of the 'Scavenger's Bar,' I could still get a cheap rye beer on credit.

"Tell me, what's the deal with that guild that deals with knives and stuff?"

After taking a swig of wine, Marcos looked at the group of workers sitting together chatting and laughing, and asked them with great curiosity.

"what happened?"

The bartender didn't answer him directly, but instead gave him a mysterious smile: "You'll find out in a moment!"

After saying that, he turned around and went to attend to other work.

Marcos muttered a few words upon seeing this; he hated this kind of half-finished speech the most.

Just as the bartender had said, he soon saw the leader of the group of gay workers jump onto the table.

"Comrades, in recent days we have won better treatment from the factory owners through a series of arduous struggles."

"This shows what?"

"This proves that all difficulties are just paper tigers, and that we workers have strength, as long as we are united..."

As the lead worker began his speech, a series of enthusiastic responses erupted from below.

It wasn't that the other person's speech was particularly insightful, but rather that their lives had genuinely improved.

More importantly, it allows us to see the future, even if that future still seems vague and uncertain to outsiders.

People in the abyss are not afraid of how slim the hope is, but that they cannot see any hope at all.

Marcos got a little bored after listening for a while; all that talk about solidarity and mutual assistance, common prosperity…

It sounds so fake, like someone who's just a con artist trying to scam money. People like that are quite common in the East District.

"I got a free drink on credit!"

Marcos mumbled indistinctly, intending to finish the drink and go home.

Suddenly, a loud bang came from the doorway!
"Bang!!!"

The bar door was kicked open from the outside, and a large group of police officers walked in, heading straight for the group of gay workers.

"Paul Groer, you are suspected of engaging in illegal organizational activities. This is an arrest warrant!"

(End of this chapter)