Ch.171Report on the Downfall of Charity (13)

“Anyway. This is as far as I go.” Antonello tapped the ground with the toe of his shoe. “If fate allows, we’ll meet again.”

“Thank you.”

Kain responded politely. But Antonello twisted his mouth in displeasure.

“Are you really going to visit them?”

“I might, or I might not. Either way, it’s no longer your concern, is it?”

“True. It’s none of my business. So, I might just whisper to the city guard about some madman who’s extremely interested in the Ship of Fools and is even contemplating how to break in.”

Kain found this amusing.

Antonello’s message was clear: ‘If you want to maintain your security, pay us and hire us. Or come work under me. Either way, if you become my subordinate, I’ll guarantee your safety.’

“Do as you please.”

Rejected, Antonello rubbed his hands together with apparent regret.

“So you’re ultimately heading back to your homeland?”

“Eventually.”

Antonello let Kain go without further protest. Passing by subordinates who watched him with ambitious eyes, Kain entered the chaotic city center.

* * * * *

For three days, Kain kept himself busy. With so much to learn, he had no time to rest.

He visited Giuseppe’s neighbors, claiming to be “a distant relative who came looking because I couldn’t find him anywhere.” He played the role of a merchant seeking pleasure ships on behalf of a discreet client, and at night, he frequented taverns and illegal fighting rings.

The investigation went more smoothly than expected, thanks to the mercenaries. Among them, Kain had become quite notable.

In these times when even soldiers opted for early discharge to become mercenaries, someone with exceptional skills who willingly left such a position naturally aroused curiosity.

Some competitive types wanted to challenge him, but most were content with sharing drinks and engaging in arm wrestling or grappling matches. No striking was allowed—only grappling, pushing, and leg techniques determined the winner. After rolling around for a while, they would typically sit at the loaded dice table.

Of course, Kain knew these dice games were rigged. But he didn’t hastily clear the table or flip it over. Instead, he won some and lost some, ultimately walking away at a loss.

In exchange, he stayed as long as possible. The shills and barkers typically spewed all sorts of stories to distract their marks, and Kain turned this to his advantage. Gradually shifting topics, he collected information piece by piece.

There wasn’t much.

Especially regarding the attack on the pleasure ship carrying Arius of Temperance. Rather than mere rumors, what circulated were closer to ghost stories—tales of “dark clouds descending from the sky and carrying the ship away.”

Venelucia was a commercial state, and commerce requires transactions. Not all transactions in the world are reasonable. Sometimes deals must be made even at the cost of humiliation and loss.

Pleasure ships represent the ultimate in such hospitality. Anything can happen on those ships, as long as “it happens only on the ship.”

To put it extremely, even if a crazed brute killed everyone on board and threw them into the sea, it wouldn’t matter.

Of course, rather than such incidents, these ships typically hosted depraved and corrupt amusements. Even the wise and noble leaders of society, once aboard a pleasure ship and masked, degenerate into mere “beasts called humans.”

It was certain that Arius had enjoyed such “pleasures.” But Leonardo of Charity apparently wasn’t present.

Kain concluded he would need to hear this directly from the person himself.

The second matter concerned the man named Giuseppe. This investigation took place mostly during daylight hours. The result: after Giuseppe was convicted of embezzlement and taken to the Ship of Fools, his family, disgusted with Venelucia, had moved to a remote island in the United Kingdom.

Embezzlement is a serious crime, especially in a commercial state like Venelucia. But even so, it doesn’t warrant the same punishment as pirates who physically attempted to overthrow the country. Typically, offenders serve 15 to 20 years before release.

Cases of life sentences like Giuseppe’s were extremely unusual. It was particularly difficult to understand how someone could commit embezzlement severe enough to warrant a life sentence under the strict rule of Niccolo Dandolo.

“Did he steal an entire merchant ship or something?”

“Why don’t you check the court records?”

Venelucian court records were restricted to legal professionals, nobles, or scholars. With Kain’s current appearance, he wouldn’t even make it through the entrance.

He had no choice but to seek Francesco’s help. “I could look into that myself. I have business at the court anyway.” Francesco put on his coat and left, accompanied by Bella, the daughter of the Stonemasons’ Guild Master.

Soon after, Francesco returned with disappointing news. “It’s classified.” The answer was frustratingly simple. “But why?”

“Francesco, does Niccolo Dandolo seem like someone who would tolerate embezzlement? Especially one large enough to warrant a life sentence?”

“Of course not.” Francesco frowned in disbelief. “Niccolo is a merchant without blood or tears, but he’s no fool who’d let himself be robbed in broad daylight. What are you doing anyway? Don’t tell me you’re trying to claim an inheritance?”

Kain took it as a joke. The Dandolo family fortune had long been absorbed into the national treasury. Though there were relatives, none wanted to claim an inheritance stained with the blood of a father and daughter.

“No. Never mind. You must have your reasons for digging around. Whatever they are.” Francesco soon returned to his work. Kain apologetically left the workshop.

Before he could walk thirty paces, he heard someone running behind him. Bella, Francesco’s assistant, was blushing and panting.

“What is it?”

“I—I can find out for you. One gesture from me is enough.”

Kain hesitated. Despite being a neglected child, she was still the daughter of the Stonemasons’ Guild, the largest of the six guilds that ran Venelucia.

“In exchange, answer my question.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“What kind of gift does Francesco like?”

Kain looked down at the immature girl in disbelief. But she was already blushing.

“In a few days, it’ll be a year since I came here. But he still won’t even have a drink with me. So I want to give him a commemorative gift instead. You were his friend, so you must know better than I do.”

That wasn’t true. All Kain knew about Francesco was that he had unpredictable tastes and was extremely fickle—while he didn’t know what Francesco liked, he certainly knew many things he disliked.

“Write him a letter. Add a flower, but not a rose. Don’t spray perfume on the stationery, and don’t leave kiss marks. He hates unnecessary rhymes. And he dislikes random quotations of famous sayings.”

Confusion appeared on the girl’s face.

“Can’t I just give money? I’m not confident about writing letters.”

“But that’s what he’ll like best. He’s such a fickle friend. If it’s about writing, I can give you some advice. How about it?”

“Tell me. What is it?”

“Have a drink in secret, nothing too strong. Then read a tragic romance novel, and between eleven and twelve at night, look up at the sky—the moon will tell you what to write.

And this is important: the moon’s teachings are extremely precious, so don’t even think about rereading what you’ve written. Seal it in the letter immediately.”

It was half-teasing, but the girl took it seriously.

“Hmm. Alright. Come back tomorrow.”

When Kain returned the next day, Francesco was sitting behind his desk with a crimson face, while the girl happily greeted Kain.

“Thanks. It worked well.”

Her slightly glazed eyes suggested she might have had something stronger than intended, but Kain didn’t think it mattered. At least she wasn’t completely intoxicated. As promised, the girl handed him a rolled piece of paper. It was a court judgment written in elegant handwriting.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to read it here. You can’t take it with you.”

Giuseppe’s charges were numerous. Having faced all sorts of lawsuits from nobles during his time at the Security Bureau, Kain could discern the truth behind the legal jargon. After all, whether in the Empire or Venelucia, they used the same specialized language.

There were dozens of charges, but all were trivial.

The embezzlement of public funds amounted to failing to properly record travel expense details, and the dereliction of duty was dozing off after lunch and being late for an inspection.

Disrespect toward superiors involved speaking rudely to a senior at a company dinner—just bad drinking manners, not the behavior of a criminal deserving life imprisonment.

It seemed they had laid out a person’s entire life on the street and picked at every possible flaw. While there were certainly things worthy of moral condemnation, nothing approached the level of treason.

At the bottom were the names and positions of those who participated in the trial, along with witnesses. Judge. Names and positions of Venelucian officials. Defendant Giuseppe Conlone. Father Prolo, administrative officer of the Venelucian diocese.

“Thank you.”

Kain politely returned the copy of the judgment. But the girl didn’t immediately take it. After confirming that Francesco was still too embarrassed to look up, she gestured toward the back door.

“Why are you looking into this anyway?”

“I have my reasons.”

“You’re not planning to do anything that might harm him…?”

“Nothing of the sort.”

Only then did the girl seem relieved. Lowering her voice as if worried someone might overhear, she continued.

“Actually, this copy of the judgment is missing some parts.”

“What?”

“The court clerk and our butler are close. So while picking it up, they chatted, and the clerk complained so much. Apparently, long after the verdict was delivered, the records office claimed something was incorrectly recorded and replaced the entire verdict content and record sheet. This was after all the transcription work had already been completed.”

Transcription is arduous work—the tedious task of copying by hand books thick enough to kill a bull if used as a weapon. Anyone would be angry if told they had to redo it from the beginning.

“But isn’t it funny? If they’d missed something and needed to add it, that would make sense. But to erase something that was definitely discussed? The content was so unusual that he still remembers it.”

“What was it about?”

“Smuggling medicinal ingredients. He was caught trying to bring in berries used as medicine from the north and west. The fruit had a strange name. Mahrifah, they called it. That’s not the exact pronunciation.”

Mahrifah. A fruit he’d never heard of. Just from the name, it seemed like something that would grow in the northern or western deserts. But the girl wasn’t finished.

“It was commonly called ‘the Hero’s Fruit,’ apparently.”

“That’s an odd name.”

“I thought so too.”

But soon the girl shook her head and cheerfully said goodbye.

“Anyway, thanks for yesterday.”

* * * * *

Kain was confused.

Fruit? It was absurd. He’d never heard of such a fruit, nor of anything called “the Hero’s Fruit.”

But if the Venelucian court had personally ordered it “erased,” it clearly wasn’t an ordinary item.

Moreover, the timing of Giuseppe’s life sentence for this unheard-of fruit was only two or three months different from when Kain had fled Venelucia.

‘So when I was here, this problematic fruit was also here.’

Of course, living somewhere for two years doesn’t mean knowing everything about it. What he knew primarily concerned Beatrice’s security detail and her political ideology, not drug smuggling.

Still, things didn’t add up.

The judges knew this item was dangerous. That’s why they gave Giuseppe a life sentence just for trying to import it. Judges are legal experts, not pharmaceutical experts. They must have received advice from someone, basing their judgment on that counsel and reference.

But nowhere in the judgment was there a name of a pharmaceutical expert. Instead, there was a somewhat puzzling name: Father Prolo, administrative officer of the Venelucian diocese.

Kain walked toward the Grand Cathedral.