East Tuck County, being close to the capital Backlund and possessing a fairly prosperous coastline, had a relatively strong overall economy and stable public security.
But today, a steam train arriving from Backlund exploded at the railway station. Over a hundred passengers were killed or injured, and among them, an earl disappeared without a trace.
This caused the police department, the Nighthawks, the Mandate Punishers, and the Machinery Hivemind members in the entire East Tuck County to become busy at once.
Crestet Cesimir no longer concealed his identity. As one of the three leaders of the Red Gloves squad, he took over the local Nighthawks team and was also responsible for coordinating this incident.
From early morning until dusk, he finally obtained the intelligence he wanted.
"It has all been counted. In this incident, a total of 42 people died, 90 were injured, and currently twelve people remain missing."
"The identities of these twelve have also been investigated. They are Morey Abraham, Rhea John, Hastur Campbell…"
Crestet Cesimir silently listened to the report, then instructed the local police to begin investigating the whereabouts of these individuals, but not to alarm them unnecessarily.
They only needed to determine their hiding places.
....
A few kilometers away from the train station, on North Street, stood a luxurious hotel.
On the second floor, inside a large deluxe room, Hastur stood by the window, watching the police officers constantly patrolling the street below.
"Meow." Ariella walked along the windowsill, then lay by the window as well, staring outside without blinking, occasionally flicking her small tail that had a tiny tuft of fur scorched.
During the previous train explosion, in order to leave that escort team behind in the sea of flames, Hastur had taken a slight risk.
The price was that Ariella's tail had almost been burned by the fire. Fortunately, only a small patch of fur had been singed by the high temperature.
As for the cargo on the train, Hastur did not care much. He had already carried all five hundred thousand pounds of his wealth with him. The items on the carriage were merely daily necessities, nothing too valuable.
After quietly leaving the train station, Hastur took a carriage to this hotel and checked in. He had even deliberately concealed his identity to avoid having his whereabouts discovered.
Now that the railway from East Tuck County to Southville County had been destroyed, it would take considerable time to repair it completely. He planned to purchase some supplies in East Tuck County before secretly heading to Southville County.
"Miss Sharron, do you need to buy anything?"
"No."
"Then let's rest tonight and depart tomorrow."
"Mm, alright."
After speaking with Sharron in the mirror, Hastur left the room and went to the adjacent room on the right. He had booked two rooms earlier for Sharron's convenience.
....
Night fell, around nine o'clock.
Ince Zangwill found a suitable place to stay, a guesthouse. The price was not expensive, and it was hidden deep within an alley, relatively concealed.
On a desk with only a small square table stood an oil lamp clearly outdated for the era. A notebook lay open in the dim yellow light, and a quill began automatically writing lines of text.
"Ince Zangwill's luck is as bad as ever. This time, he seems to be drawn by some force. No matter how he tries to change direction, he ultimately converges toward the source of fate."
"That Baron Hastur Campbell, oh, now he is already an earl, did not die in the great explosion. He escaped and seems to be planning to secretly head to Southville County."
"This choice coincides with Ince Zangwill's own. Will they encounter each other on the road? And what kind of story will unfold? It is difficult to see clearly."
"Strange, why am I paying particular attention to that Earl Hastur Campbell? Could it be that I am also influenced by some force?"
"How curious. Unfortunately, Ince Zangwill is too timid and refuses to confront the other party directly. This prevents the future I predict from arriving precisely."
Ince Zangwill silently looked at these lines of text. Holding the quill, he wanted to write: "There is no intersection between Ince Zangwill and that Earl Hastur Campbell. Their fates always miss each other."
But after thinking about it, he put down 008 and did not add a single mark to the notebook.
He still remembered the lesson from Backlund last time.
The more he wrote scripts related to that Earl Hastur Campbell, the more likely he would suffer backlash, increasing the chances of meeting him instead.
Letting things be and turning a blind eye was the better approach.
Late at night, before he had fallen fully asleep, Ince Zangwill's spirituality suddenly issued a warning.
He opened his eyes, climbed out of bed, and quickly took 008 and the notebook with him.
Opening the window, he leapt straight out.
It was the second floor. His figure soon landed in the alley, and he left through the crisscrossing passageways.
Having been wanted for many years, he had long mastered the skill of leaving at a moment's notice.
As long as his spirituality sensed something unusual, he would depart.
Sure enough, three to five minutes later, Crestet Cesimir led a Nighthawks squad to this guesthouse. After a search and verification, they confirmed that Rhea John was Ince Zangwill's false identity. Unfortunately, they were still one step too late. Ince Zangwill had already left in advance.
"Sigh."
Crestet Cesimir let out a sigh.
With 008 on him, Ince Zangwill's spiritual warning ability was too strong. As long as something could potentially threaten him, he would almost always sense it in advance and flee far away.
In this regard, Ince Zangwill was even more troublesome than those devils.
"Continue searching. Don't let any suspicious place go."
Crestet Cesimir could only chase after Ince Zangwill like this. In that sense, they truly were like hunting dogs.
At this time, Ince Zangwill had already circled out of the alley. Relying on his memory from the day, he headed straight toward the docks.
He intended to take the first ferry tomorrow morning to leave East Tuck County, disembark at Southville County, and then transfer from Southville County to the Southern Continent.
At the docks, the ferry had not yet departed. The first ferry would not set sail until 7:30 the next morning.
Ince Zangwill adopted another false identity and purchased a ticket to Southville County. To avoid attracting attention, he deliberately chose the lowest-priced ticket among the four options.
That way, he could blend into the crowd and evade the pursuit of the Red Gloves.
He followed several other passengers who had also come early to buy tickets and temporarily squeezed into a cabin on the ferry, resting while waiting for dawn to break.
Morning arrived, and more and more passengers crowded onto the ferry. The already narrow cabin resembled a factory-produced can of sardines.
The place Ince Zangwill occupied was a small bed that could only accommodate one person lying down, and even turning over was difficult.
Inside a single cabin, small beds were arranged in three tiers, upper, middle, and lower, divided into two rows of five columns, totaling 30 small beds.
Beds surrounded him on all sides. In such an almost airtight environment, he felt more at ease instead.
Although the constant smell of sweat flooding into his nose and mouth, along with the stifling heat, was difficult to endure.
He still endured it. Once he reached the Southern Continent, he would no longer need to worry about his identity being exposed.
Time soon reached 7:30, and the first ferry departed from the docks, heading toward Southville County.
The restless sea rocked the ship's hull, which in turn rocked the already crowded cabin. People swayed on their small beds like wild grass, the wooden frames creaking noisily.
Some were so shaken that they became dizzy and vomited directly in the cabin, making the entire space even more unbearably foul.
Inside a luxurious private cabin, Hastur sat by the window, tasting the captain's privately stored red wine and fine food, while admiring the crimson sun slowly rising from the sea.
Last night, he had dealt with two little mice that had been secretly following him. To avoid further disturbance, he chose to board the first ferry today to Southville County.
He had paid ten times the price of a regular ticket to obtain a luxurious private cabin from the captain and had given him an additional 10 pounds in exchange for food and wine. When it came to enjoying life, he was becoming increasingly skilled.
He would not mistreat himself by purchasing an ordinary ticket, especially the lowest-priced one. Even being locked in prison would offer a better environment than that place.
This ferry would take about seven days to reach Southville County. Squeezing into the area for those tickets made eating, drinking, relieving oneself, and sleeping all difficult problems.
That situation was only slightly better than transporting slaves by sea in the past.
Hastur would never allow Ariella and Sharron to suffer such hardship alongside him.
"Meow?" Ariella crouched by the window, staring at unknown sea fish occasionally leaping from the surface, waving her little paws eagerly.
"Want to eat?"
"Meow!" Ariella turned back, came to Hastur's side, and rubbed her face against his cheek ingratiatingly.
Hastur skillfully used the power of pounds to have the crew bring three fishing rods. He handed one to Ariella, kept one for himself, and gave the remaining one to Sharron.
"Meow?" Ariella looked down at her little paws, then at the fishing rod several times longer than her body, feeling troubled.
Sharron stepped out from the mirror and came to the window. Holding two fishing rods in one hand, she casually cast the lines, while her other hand gently stroked Ariella's little head.
"Meow." Ariella obediently lay before Sharron, her eyes fixed tightly on the float of the fishing rod.
Splash!
It was the sound of a large fish being pulled from the water. Ariella followed the sound and saw that her master had made a catch.
The fish was very big, several times larger than her body, with sharp teeth, a slender mouth, and a row of silver spines along its back.
She did not like that kind of fish and withdrew her gaze, quietly waiting for her own small fish to bite.
Splash.
Another large fish was pulled from the water by her master.
Ariella lifted her eyes, looking at the expressionless Sharron, and let out a puzzled meow.
What she wanted to express was simple: why were these two fishing rods unable to catch any fish?
Where exactly was the problem?
Sharron did not answer, only her gaze deepened slightly.