From the Ship of Fools to Earl of Wugang

The dockworkers' union office was a two-story building next to the clinic, with its exterior painted in a striking bright red.

Edmund was led by a short staff member through a lobby covered with posters to a lounge with a television and piles of videotapes to wait.

He noticed that a weekly publication featuring "A Study in Scarlet" was placed in a prominent position and was clearly well-received.

A few minutes before 10 o'clock, Edmund was led into the second-floor conference room, where he saw four men and one woman sitting around a long table.

The most eye-catching figure was undoubtedly the enormous fat man in the very center. His oversized orange-red suit reminded Edmund of a dockworker's vest, which was probably the only thing about this huge fat man that reminded one of a worker.

A pair of comical red-framed glasses stood in front of his squinty eyes, which were squeezed into slits by fat, making his style quite distinctive—perhaps intentional.

As he rose to welcome him, the chair creaked under its weight, and he spoke in a high-pitched, light voice, which seemed disproportionate to his size.

"Welcome, Mr. Hall. I am Leclerc, the union president." A slickness seemed to emanate from every syllable.

"We are deeply honored that the Earl of Schenkel was willing to send a young and generous relative to listen to the workers' difficulties."

Edmund shook hands with him and sat down, looking at his four-layered chin and wondering if there was a leather zipper hidden there that would pop out a city councilor.

This guy must weigh 0.2 tons?

After both parties were seated, Leclerc introduced the other union officials beside him, and then began to speak:

"As you know, dear Mr. Hall, we are facing a tragedy. And what is even more heartbreaking is that others are sharing in this tragedy..."

Leclerc spoke at length about Mrs. Green's grief and the losses that the port shutdown would cause to all families, and Edmund fixed his gaze on him purely out of politeness.

Finally, the union chairman casually stated that as long as all parties show sufficient sincerity, the union is willing to leave room for "restoring order."

"So, you want to know how much I'm prepared to pay?" Edmund saved him the rest of the preamble.

Leclerc clearly assumed that Edmund had come on behalf of the Count to quell the protests, and was only waiting for him to state the amount he would spend on the peace.

The union chairman looked hurt upon hearing this: "That's too blunt. We simply want to know how Your Excellency intends to express your concern."

"Actually, I didn't spend a single penny on this."

The meeting room fell silent, and Leclerc loosened his clasped fingers.

Edmund could see that the fat man's attempts to feign surprise were drowned out by his flabby flesh.

"Mr. Chairman, I am not asking the unions to stop protesting or to publicly support Earl Schenkel. Whether you march, strike, or sue Red Anchor is entirely up to you."

He pushed the folder he brought to the center of the desktop.

"I plan to establish a maritime accident relief fund in the name of my firm, with an initial injection of five thousand Eagle Coins. The fund should pay the first humanitarian aid to Matthew Green's family as soon as possible and cover the costs of the first round of independent investigation, legal and medical review."

Edmund continued, "The firm recruits divers, mechanics, and dockworkers at above-market wages. You know I've set up a fund. All personnel are insured, and accident records are kept separately by the firm and worker representatives."

The two people next to him sat up straight instinctively, and Leclerc looked at Edmund for a while through his glasses.

"Mr. Hall, an independent investigation and long-term recruitment are far more expensive than a single act of kindness. Are you prepared to buy half the dock?"

"I'm a fucking rich man, there's no one richer than me in all of Dusk Harbor," Edmund said calmly. "If necessary, I can certainly do so."

On the right side of the long table, a dark-skinned man wearing a red hat and a red vest suddenly growled in a hoarse, magnetic voice: "Damn, that's more like it."

Edmund saw him slam his hand on the table as he spoke. His strong hand had large fingers and thick, arched nails like clam shells, with shiny calluses on the base of his thumb and the edges of his palm.

It's easy to see that even though this person has entered the decision-making level, he hasn't been away from frontline work for too long.

Leclerc introduced him warmly: "This is Theo Harding, our most reliable sailor representative. He's not much of a diplomat, but he's certainly a strong and capable man."

"I'm good at speaking like a human!" Harding responded.

The atmosphere in the meeting room relaxed considerably, and everyone smiled understandingly.

The only person not smiling was the only woman in the room, Elizabeth Price, dressed in a sharp gray suit.

She opened a notepad in front of her: "If that's the case, I need to confirm the conditions attached to the fund. Will the union have to stop protesting, withdraw the lawsuit, or assume a confidentiality obligation?"

"None of that is necessary. I only require all those involved to submit a copy of the incident report to the firm."

Does the authority of the parties involved determine the conclusion of the investigation?

"Well, in principle, the fund only pays for investigation costs; lawyers, diving experts, and technical advisors are mutually agreed upon."

Money had an immediate effect in the meeting room.

Leclerc slowly rubbed the red frame of his glasses with his thumb, watching as several of the executives around him took turns expressing their support, before turning the conversation to specific collaborations.

"The union is demanding that its co-sponsors be publicly identified as contributors to the fund," he said. "They want the port to know that the union isn't keeping quiet because it's been paid."

"Okay," Edmund nodded, "but all expenditures must be documented with audit records, and neither party may use the funds privately."

Leclerc looked at Price, and the lawyer closed the notepad: "I can draft provisional rules with your legal representatives before this afternoon."

"Actually, I have all the skills an accountant needs," Edmund shrugged. "And I've already set up a similar fund before, so I'm no stranger to this."

At this point in the negotiations, there was little room for maneuver left.

The two sides went back and forth, confirming the details item by item, and even Leclerc's high-pitched voice became more pragmatic.

Before 3 p.m., the fund's articles of association and the first batch of signatures were completed. The bank manager was summoned by Edmund with a phone call, and he brought along his clerk.

After the union secretary delivered the first aid to Mrs. Green, Price retrieved a stack of photocopies from the union.

"These are the accident reports we've collected in the past year—just the first batch."

Edmund flipped to the top of the table and glanced at it: "Thank you, these will be very useful."

This was one of his main purposes in making this happen.

He temporarily recruited four literate clerks from the union who were also computer literate.

In the old relief center, the sounds of keyboards clattering and dot matrix printers whirring continued until nightfall, as paper records were systematically entered into the database.

Edmund stood in his office, watching the accident entries increase line by line on the screen.

The money had already opened the union's filing cabinet for him; now he needed to find out from these contradictory figures what Red Anchor was hiding on the seabed.

At nine o'clock in the evening, after the last clerk left, Edmund dialed the number Conrad had left behind.

The prince's voice quickly came through the receiver: "Good news, Mr. Hall. Based on the information you provided, we have apprehended several key personnel, and the gains are greater than expected."

This harvest signified that the vow was beginning to be fulfilled, and Edmund offered his congratulations and inquired about the prince's next plans.

"I will send a representative to Twilight Harbor to facilitate further cooperation," the prince replied. "He is a second-tier transcendent and will bring sufficiently secure means of communication."

"So when will this person arrive?"

"He will come to you within three days. Also, don't worry, King Dusch has already arranged comprehensive security measures, and Prishini will be safer during this period."

After hanging up the phone, Edmund looked at the empty monitor in the room.

A second-tier transcendent is heading to Twilight Harbor... He'd better get one for himself too.