BLOODY LOVE'S
Episodes 207

Greyland had not slept when Edgar asked him to come. Without asking much, he immediately alerted his men and came to the Argent manor. Unlike Bjork, Aston is a city that never sleeps. Even on a blind night, the city is still littered with lights, crowded with human traffic and a horse-drawn carriage or the latest Ford Tin Lizzie. As soon as he saw a group of Greylanders walking across the rapier at the waist, everyone immediately pulled over and the road suddenly became quiet.

Arriving at the Argent manor, Greyland found Edgar waiting with twenty of his chosen workers. Near them was a cauldron that was tightly sealed.

"What's that?" tanyakanya.

"Coney. A gift from Bjork. I'll send it to Hastings tonight."

"At last you want to be blatant?" Greyland grimaced, observing the men armed with revolvers and short swords. "I thought you guys would wait until everyone in the trade alliance bowed in one vote."

"I waited until there was an undeniable reason to hunt his head down" Edgar corrected. "And that reason has come. Want them to bow or look up, no one would dare to protest this time. Anyone who objected meant defying the palace edict."

"What is that reason?"

Edgar handed over the cylindrical tube he received from Olivia. Greyland sniffed, then nodded. Murder, prostitution, robbery, all of that still exists within the confines of Albion that the police force in the upper world can overcome. But narcotics are something that the queen hates. Opium is still allowed for treatment, but those sold in cylinders as good as that are definitely not for medical stock. His eradication is already an affair of the underworld. Greyland turned the cylinder on his finger, observing the ends of his valves. He can find the source by researching the engraving and the cylinder material. "Do you want me to investigate the origin?" tanyakanya. "We can find and cut the current from tracking this thing."

"Please. That's what I want."

"You're going to involve Aston Yard?" Greyland named the street after Aston police headquarters. The street's name is also used to refer to Aston police.

"certain." Edgar grinned. "But only after everything is done. After all, the police should have come last, right?"

They were galloping out the manor while chuckling, moving towards the Hastings mansion.

***

At exactly four o'clock in the morning, Jacob finally found Spencer. The man was at one of the entertainment venues in the corner of Aston, his whisky was being poured by a half-naked Central Asian woman when Jacob's men ambushed, covered the man's head with a burlap sack, then dragged him out of the bar.

Spencer didn't even get shocked. He heard screams and squeals, he heard the sound of broken glass and wood colliding, his hands blocked and tied behind his back, as well as his legs. The smell of hemp shut his head.

When Spencer realized what was really going on and that he should have rebelled harder, it was too late. He was already far away from the hustle of the city, thrown over the dusty hard ground in a bound state. Chest hurts. Knee blisters. He shouted with his face covered in sacks. The hot steam of his breath hit his own face, making him sweat. He exclaimed, threatened, and rolled over, but someone traced his back from behind and made his chin hit the ground. He could feel the hard soles of the bot.

"Arthur Spencer!" a loud voice rang. "This is what happens when you try to bite off more than you can chew!"

Spencer knew that haughty voice. His heart was panicking.

"Argent!" his scream with a broken lip bitten. There was no other human voice, but he felt the presence of many people. Possibly Jacob's men. Amidst the smell of hemp and the smell of his own breath, he also smelled the smell of weathered wood. Spencer guessed he was in one of Argent's old wooden warehouses on the outskirts of Aston. "You can't do this! Motherfucker!" he panicked, "Let go of me now! You can't do this to me!"

Jacob chuckled short, sounding unimpressed. "And why do you think I can't?" tanyanya cold.

Because law. Spencer was horrified to realize that Argent might not care about the law. During this time he dared to move carefully because he thought Argent would play within the limits allowed to be seen by the law. He and Hastings, who could work magic magic magic, could also bring easy money from religious fools. He saw for himself that Marco was made confused by the mystery of Bjork, and all of it made him more confident, feeling that they would win. He felt himself safe because he thought Argent would not play vulgar and make a mess in the upper world. Marco could not have hurt him so blatantly and made his family's position so bad. That's consideration.

"You crossed your line, Spencer," Jacob said. "And your death will be an example to others."

"You?" Jacob snorted, pressing his shoes harder until the man below made a whimper. "Help me?" repeat with an offended tone. His rapier let out a sweet whirring sound when unsheathed. He touched the sharp end to Spencer's nape. "Did I ever say I needed your help?"

"I'll tell you all the things!" screeched Spencer in the remnants of his self-defense. His voice broke and trembled as he pleaded without any pride. Even Jacob's people who were walking around waiting there were embarrassed to hear it.

"What news? I'm too old to be entertained by fairy tales."

"Not a fairy tale! Not fairy tales! Hastings wants to get rid of Marco!" Spencer squeaked, sniffed without taking a breath, "he wanted to! I'm just a regular trader. Please, I can help you! Hastings wants to monopolize the Bjork-Aston trade route, and he's teaming up with the devil! He's working with Duke Ashington! He made a sect, create an occult! Eclipse ring tomorrow he wants to eliminate Bjork! I'm just a regular merchant! Just want to trade! I ... I'll get out of Bjork, I'll get out of Albion! Unhand me!"

"Ordinary traffickers who smuggle cocaine?" Jacob stomped harder until Spencer's spine rattled, not caring at all for the clenical part that was being revealed because that wasn't the business Edgar had given him. Spencer howled in pain.

"That's Flora!" yelled, coughed from inhaling a piece of burlap. He took a hard breath and sniffled. Sweat drenched his entire body. His face was soaked in a sack. "The wrong flora! I don't know where he got it! I just want to sell canned fruit! Wasn't it! I don't want to trade anymore, I swear! Unhand me!"

Jacob put away his leg. Spencer had already stretched his thanks and gratitude from inside the burlap sack, about to roll up. But as soon as Jacob walked away, the bouncers approached Spencer.

"Argent?" Spencer moved his head in confusion. His heart was pounding hard. He rolled on his side, his feet kicking in panic at the sound of approaching steps. There was nothing he could see but dust on the burlap matting. "Argent!" his screams were horrified, beginning to swear and curse in the most vile words once he knew what was about to happen. "I curse you! I curse all Argent!" his screams were covered with the sound of a punch.

Jacob walked over without looking back in the slightest. His eyes were fixed on a group of long-mouthed men with tall hats clustered in front of the leaves of the wooden shed door to take shelter from the cold blowing of the morning breeze. They were all calm-faced, like wearing wooden masks. Even so, only a few could hide the fearful look in their eyes.

"Still want more proof?" Jacob smiled.

"We misjudged" muttered one of the group.

"But this way is too .. barbarians," said another, his expression twisted pain when he heard what happened in the darkness in the warehouse. The man licked his dry lips nervously. His eyes glanced uneasily. "Is this always how Argent solves problems?"

"No." Jacob shook his head and smiled very sweetly. "This is how we take care of the traitor." He raised his hand, gave a sign. From around them came many more bouncers from hiding. Everyone carries weapons.

The men in high hats in front of the warehouse immediately docked each other. Stupidly, no one carries a gun.

"What does this mean?"

"You can't do this Argent!"

"You're gonna deal with the law!"

Jacob doesn't even care who said what. He distanced himself and waved cheerfully, bidding farewell to the people on the list of names his father burned. Edgar doesn't care about small fish like that, but Jacob cares. Little people don't mean it could endanger his family if left unchecked. Jacob wasn't one to let little nails stick out and hurt his family. Everyone should be hit.

"You think despite trying to kill Marquis Argent and attack his house, as long as it is on a safe path the law will protect you" he said as he walked back, enjoy seeing the look of despair and horror on those faces. "But by involving narcotics, you're no longer a top-world group. You guys are in the lower Albion!" His fingers pointed at the ground. He paused and continued in a tone as dark as night, "here, Argent's law applies."

Jacob raised his left hand high into the sky and flicked a finger as a gesture. His workers are roaring.

***