Inside the round tower, spiral stairs extended upward.
Derrick climbed the steps under torchlight until he reached the door of "Chief" Colin Iliad.
Pushing the door open, the tall, white-haired elder stood in the room, examining him with profound eyes.
On the wall behind the "Chief" hung two crossed straight swords, the very weapons Colin was accustomed to using. It was with these unassuming weapons that he had hunted countless monsters, defended the City of Silver, and become a hero in everyone's hearts.
"Chief."
Derrick bowed.
"Derrick Berg, your performance on the last mission was quite good."
Colin said flatly. "You came to see me today. Is there something you need?"
"Sir..."
Derrick hesitated for a moment, ultimately deciding to get straight to the point.
"I heard that Elder Lovia presented the city with a precious Sequence 4 potion formula."
"That's correct."
Colin waited for his next words.
"I want to ask you, if someone in the city were interested in this potion formula, what level of contribution would they need to make to have a chance of obtaining it?"
Derrick asked, throwing caution to the wind.
He didn't explicitly say he wanted the formula himself, only hinted indirectly and inquired about Colin's price.
"..."
Colin was uncharacteristically silent for a moment.
"A potion formula isn't like Beyonder materials with physical form. It's just information that can be copied and shared multiple times."
Just as Derrick was growing anxious from this silence, Colin spoke.
"But even so, the information on it is extremely precious and cannot be easily leaked. There are also requirements for the applicant's qualifications."
The Chief didn't refuse!
There's room to negotiate!
Derrick's heart leaped with joy, and he couldn't help asking, "Chief, do I have those qualifications?"
"You do."
Colin said slowly. "However, your current contributions aren't sufficient to exchange for it."
"I see. Then what kind of thing do you think would match the value of a potion formula?"
Derrick continued to ask.
He was still too young, completely unaware of his own phrasing.
The Chief could easily deduce certain things from it, such as that someone behind him was very interested in this formula and willing to pay a rather high price to obtain it.
"For the City of Silver, the most valuable thing would be a method to change our current situation."
Colin said flatly.
"If someone could bring a bright future to all the city's people, their contribution would be immeasurable."
The Chief means finding a way to save the City of Silver? Mr. Fool might be able to do that, but Mr. Temperance is only Sequence 5. This seems far too difficult for him...
Derrick was somewhat dumbfounded.
Fortunately, the Chief's words weren't finished. His tone shifted as he offered another option.
"Of course, that's just my ideal. A Sequence 4 potion formula can be exchanged for items of equivalent level, or potion formulas of Sequence 4 from other pathways."
As if worried Derrick wouldn't understand his hint, the Chief explained very clearly.
After finishing, he even asked, "Do you remember?"
"I remember."
Derrick answered reflexively, then froze slightly.
The Chief seems to have already guessed there's someone behind me...
He ended the exchange in bewildered unease. Only after descending the tower did he gradually steady his mind.
The Chief is so clever, naturally he can guess many things... But at least I successfully obtained a price from the Chief.
I can give Mr. Temperance an answer now...
Derrick thought, half happy and half worried.
---
Backlund, Queens Borough, the House of Lords.
"Creak..."
Several black carriages stopped at the foot of the House of Lords' tall staircase.
A group of capable members emerged from the carriages in succession.
Though wearing ordinary uniforms, their eyes were sharp, their movements precise, carrying the bearing of soldiers and an unquestionable authority.
That's right, these people were members of MI9.
Today was the day the House of Lords held its regular meeting, and they had come according to regulations to perform guard duty.
Though using confidential intelligence personnel as bodyguards for an ordinary regular meeting seemed like overkill, after all, the House of Lords consisted of Loen's most prestigious noble lords.
Special treatment seemed reasonable enough.
"Kons, did yesterday go well at home? Did you spend some memorable time with your family?"
Levi, who had gotten out of the carriage, walked a few steps and spoke to a young man who had descended from another carriage.
The other turned his head and flashed him a relaxed, pleasant smile.
"Of course, I had a wonderful time yesterday."
"Kons" answered. "Mr. Levi, thank you very much."
"I'm glad you're happy. I can see you're in much better spirits today too. Not as lost as before, which is a good thing."
Levi didn't notice anything amiss with the current Kons.
He smiled and patted the man's shoulder. "Let's hurry along. Those lords are difficult to serve. We need to check the surrounding streets before they arrive."
MI9 had sent two teams today.
One group would conduct inspections inside the building as usual, while their second group had the more laborious task of patrolling around the House of Lords, ensuring there were no "dangerous elements" in the streets and surrounding buildings, or rebellious individuals prying into "affairs of state."
Of course, what the noble lords called "affairs of state" were actually just decaying topics like title inheritance and social hierarchy.
Unable to abandon their reserve and dignity, yet unable to truly propose any constructive opinions, they could only maintain their last shred of dignity in this way.
In today's Loen, opportunities were everywhere.
Those nobles with vision had already set aside their pride, sold off their rental lands to open factories, and established companies.
These forces, along with merchants and the emerging middle class, influenced each other and were gradually increasing their voice in the House of Commons.
Only the most stubborn, most conservative elements still maintained old traditions, gathering around the Conservative Party's greatest supporter, Duke Negan, attempting to restore past glory.
Today, Duke Negan was to deliver a speech at the House of Lords. The members took this very seriously, with many participants, which in turn made MI9 even busier.
"Damn noble lords..."
Levi muttered complaints under his breath while checking passing carriages.
"Oh, Kons, sorry, I didn't mean to insult you."
"It's alright, Mr. Levi."
"Kons" smiled without taking offense.
"By the way, Mr. Levi, if those nobles really would die as you wish, what price would you be willing to pay for that outcome?"
As he said this, his tone was full of temptation.
"Huh?"
Levi froze, seemingly confused by the abrupt question. His eyes quickly became dazed as he unconsciously answered, "I would be willing to..."
"Creak..."
Just then, a high-class carriage approached, intercepted by the checkpoint they'd set up, interrupting their conversation.
The carriage bore the Hall family crest.