The Black Iron Glory
Old Street at Night

Chapter 99

Old Street at Night

The days passed quietly for Claude for a while. Life on the estate was pastoral, and although living right next to a castle, it felt more like he was living somewhere in the mountains, exiled for a spiritual retreat, which was not entirely inaccurate, he said, when he thought about it.

He did little in terms of plantation management; most of it was left to Sioris. He only checked them occasionally to make sure everything was still in order. The couple prepared for the time, but they had managed the estate together for all of their adult lives and were still far from too old to manage on their own. As a result most of his time was spent wandering the forest looking for spices, spices, and mineral stones for herbs and ointments, and making such ointments. She cooks for herself and eats alone most of the time, although she sometimes invites Sioris to eat, usually preceded or followed by meetings to discuss the state of the estate.

The plantation required little maintenance, regardless of its size, thanks in large part to being a natural growth forest, so most of the elderly couple's time was spent caring for their private land; the; a small patch of farmland to the west of the plantation border. They cultivate mainly blackwheat and – wheat potatoes during summer and potatoes during winter – and have two dozen laying hens.

Servants were not normally allowed to have devotion other than from their families and inheritance and the masters they tended and served, but the baroness had given two permits to work a little land. He knew they didn't have much to do during his absence period, so he had no problem with that. The two had suggested the idea to him with the intention of working in a stretch of forest and generating a little more income for him, but he insisted they do it themselves. He even bought a few acres of land they now worked themselves on as a reward for their long tenure, and insisted they keep whatever income was generated for themselves.

They were a family as far as he was concerned, they all raised him until the king took him and his brother, and assumed it was his duty to look after them. Their children were grown up and married, and had followed his brother to his viscounty, so that their families continued their services to the family, if not in this land. Makes sense, he thought. The young ones were tied to his brother because they were about the same age and grew up adoring him, so it was natural for them to follow him. Their parents, however, had spent their entire adult years tending to the garden, and were more attached to it than any Normanleys. They love brother and sister, yes, but they are like children. Both watched them grow up. Their pair of sisters has grown up, and like all children, has left home to live alone. The two elders only wanted to live the rest of their lives in peace, tending to the plantation.

Normanley Manor was the birthplace of House Fen Normanley, and for two generations prior to their right to be their home. Now, however, it is a retreat place more than home. Mary still loves that place. The pastoral times he was given were a valuable change from the bustle of the capital, which was also undoubtedly why the previous owners had built their villas there. That silence was invaluable for his more difficult experiments.

The wood was originally grown for timber, but has not been preserved for that purpose for five decades, and is now a forest by all names except its name, still called Normanley Wood. In all, the forest covers 486 hectares of land, swallowing four large hills, including the one where Normanley Manor stands.

The Sioris family would never be able to manage the forest if it was still wood, if it had to be maintained like wood, but since it was allowed to become a natural growing forest, the forest, they had little work. . They only need to patrol occasionally to make sure they know the circumstances and repel some of the more destructive animals.

Claude did little as far as the daily management of the forest was concerned, although he had been enthusiastic about patrolling there. He was especially happy to take Jemmy out for a long journey in the darkest corners of the valleys between the hills and along the rivers and streams that cut him down. He couldn't survey all the inheritances in one go, but if he spent an hour a day patrolling in good strides, he could close them all down once a week. However, he rarely spends just an hour riding a horse, as he usually stops to pluck some medicinal herbs or shoot a lost rabbit or squirrel. His biggest concern was the illegal loggers, whom he had already caught several times.

The findings are nothing new. The Sioris family always carried baskets with their patrols, and sold their crops at the city market every two weeks. However, Claude did much less. The Sioris family did so mainly for extra income between harvests, but Claude did not need any extra income, so he simply chose to refill his shop.

Once again his days were spent at school, but his afternoons and evenings were spent on the estate. Daytime is usually spent on horseback patrolling, while the evening after dinner is a time of study and meditation. She visits her family once a week, usually Saturday nights, and she spends Sundays in the lab to conduct experiments.

She and her friends rarely spend much time together outside of school today. Each of the other boys had their own problems. Borkal gets busier by his father as he prepares him to inherit the family business. Eriksson and Welikro were mainly busy fishing and sailing. The three knew most of the reasons for Eriksson to be near or at the lake to watch over his father. Claude might be able to calm him down with contrived consolation, but the boy was still very worried about his father.

Throughout the time Claude spent on his potion, he still struggled with the simplest of potions, not to mention the ointment. He had improved a lot, but even now he managed to complete his repairs only three out of ten times if he was lucky, and they usually had quite poor grades and were ineffective; he kills his people more often than not.

His people, especially hares and squirrels, ran out and it was time for him to go out and catch a few more. He needed a very large set of subjects for the juice he had been trying to make lately. It was a simple healing potion that could heal small wounds. The textbook he read said the potion's quality could be checked for color. The more transparent the potion was, the higher the quality and the purer the effect, but Claude had yet to concoct a potion of high enough quality to allow such an evaluation. All the ingredients were still completely milk-like, and even the color was inconsistent. That forced him to test them on animals to see how effective, or not, they were. However, the noose is starting to wear out, and it's time to replace it.

However, he still had a pair of fat rabbits and two turkeys, so he wanted to test the potion first. The animals had fattened themselves well during the winter, and he did not like to use them as test subjects rather than food, but he had to make the most of what he had.

He took one of the rabbits from the cage and cut off his stomach. The cut is deep enough to cause enough bleeding, but not enough to spill his intestines. The little furrball wriggled and drowned itself violently for a while before–

"Bang!" Shouted Claude, and stopped fighting.

Claude placed it on the table, his stomach looming upwards, blood bubbling vigorously at the ravine carved on his stomach, and opened the lid of the small glass. He poured a thin stream of milky-white bile fluid along the wound and saw it mix with red blood for a while before the boil in the blood began to change. At first it was an excited bubbling, like water bubbling out happily from a small fountain, but now it was bubbling frantically, like a sauce boiled into a thick stew. The blood thickens as it bubbles and hardens into a black scab over the wound.

Half an hour later the scab came off, revealing the pale skin underneath. However, the rabbit was stiff, its eyes were like glass. Another failure, he sighed. Maria had warned him to be careful and precise with his size. Obviously he's not in enough size.

That thought brought him back to his different opinion of magic. Claude was a magus first and foremost, while Maria was a pharmacist first and probably a magus on the side. Therefore, he dedicated himself to the study of medicine without using magic. Claude, however, had no such doubts. Why would he fight without magic?

He enjoyed the thought of using arrays to make potions instead of having to struggle to make potions by hand. The array has a very low failure rate, and you have to completely screw it up to make it fail, unlike potions, made by hand without magic, which fails the slightest on the measurement misme.

He made the decision to dive first into alchemy, threw the dead rabbit at Siori, and headed to the city by train. He stopped by his family home for dinner. His mother had just started cooking when he arrived, and he handed her the rabbit and turkey he was carrying. His younger siblings forced him to play with them and the dog until dinner was ready.

Arbeit crept into the house with a normally perfect time for dinner, swallowed his food in silence, and left as quickly as he had come. Claude had increasingly hated his older brother ever since he moved to the estate.it was not even grateful to say thank you for the meat he brought for dinner. Even the snow dog had better manners than him.

"Are you going home after dinner?" his mother asked as he swallowed his last bite and followed him with the last of his water.

"No," he replied, "I have to stop in town to buy some stuff."

"Now? No shops open this late. And you shouldn't waste money on stores that are still open. They just fooled you!" his father chirped with his usual frugality, "You should go straight home. It's too late."

Claude didn't argue with his father. He went to the estate obediently until the road turned in a corner and he was invisible to his father. He left the carriage and horse in the town square and headed towards the slums. He could take it with him, but he did not want to reveal his identity, not to mention that it would attract unwanted attention from the bad guys.

The night was naturally dark in the narrow, dimly lit streets. The little lighting that the moon offers is blocked by an ugly roof. Only the occasional dancing shadow from the window sneezed thanks to the candle that betrayed the darkness. But even they ended up fading away when he reached the heart of the slums.

He pulled his hood over his head. It did not need to cover his face as much as it had to in the right city to completely hide his face, so that he could see well. He still wrapped a thin cloth around his face, if for no other reason it made him feel more comfortable. He stood like a sore thumb on his clothes, though it was dark, but as he approached his destination, more and more pedestrians in the alley wore the same clothes.

Not everyone goes to the same store as him. Old Street is the city's red-light district, and many other distractions there require the same level of discretion to attend. The rest of the city is busy during the day and quiet at night, except for a few stalls, but Old Street is quiet during the day, and crowded at night.

As he neared the farthest end of the street, more and more shops were opening. Most of them were fronted by scantily dressed women. Any possible combination of physical characteristics is present; young, old, skinny, plump, slender, plump, fair, dark, etc.

The majority of people walk slow, taking the time to investigate the offerings of each store before moving or logging in. The streets, though very crowded, were quiet; people only spoke in whispering and hoarse voices, which were unrecognizable.

Claude sighed. He hoped to avoid the worst by coming early, but it seemed he underestimated his impatience . He ducked carefully among a number of vixens, a pair of lovers grabbed him, and slipped into the darkness again. He picked up one last glance on the road and turned to head for another passageway, but was stopped by a familiar voice. Her eyes followed the voice, and came to rest on her brother. Arbeit whispered to a young woman just a few meters away from Claude, negotiating the price for his time.

"Stop! Why bother coming if you don't have money ?!" he suddenly shouted, "You have my price, and not in the slightest! And there are no tabs for people like you!"

Claude had to bite his laughter and sneak away into the darkness.

"Seventeen Flowerstone Alley" he whispered as he reached half in front of an old building.

The alley was small, not even large enough for two people to walk side by side comfortably, and black like an endless void behind the stars. Four men crowded the door, wandering around it. They tried to seem harmless, but Claude immediately recognized them as guards. They just gave him a cold look at each other, then ignored him.

Claude stared at the scene for a long time, then took a step forward.