I Will Be The Crowned King Chapter 88

With the sincere wishes of the old gentleman, Anson walked away with a black suitcase in a happy mood.

Although the result obtained is completely different from the beginning, it may be better - the memory card of "The Great Magic Book" is too sensitive, whether it can be answered or not, the other party will definitely not be as "generous" as it is now.

As for the "Old God Sect hidden in the shadows" by the old gentleman...Although Anson has not yet launched an investigation, the Old God Sect organization with such great power and influence in Clovis City can basically be determined to be the "Black Mage" undoubtedly.

But here's the problem, and that is that the Black Mage is in favor of the Public Administration Act - at least on the surface - because it would give the Clovis Kingdom enough power to keep the Empire at war and break the order of the world balance.

How could Professor Mace Hornard agree to kidnap or even kill one of the most important proponents of the Act without considering the fact that he was lying?

If neither side lied to themselves, it might be because the current "Public Administration Act" is beneficial to the "big plan", but it will hurt the interests of the old gods of the Clovis Kingdom in the short term. Less private activities are affected.

So he needs to kill or let Viscount Bogner retreat, and let the members of the Privy Council who cooperate with the old gods preside over and advance the bill.

But these were just guesses, and Anson didn't want to guess at all.

He doesn't even want to participate in this "high-end" struggle; he now hopes to clear his suspicions as soon as possible, get rid of the black mage's control over himself, and become an officer who lives on allowances.

He is twenty-two years old this year, and is a lieutenant colonel. He will probably become a colonel in ten to fifteen years. The rank of brigadier general and above requires at least the bloodline of the earl level, so he does not expect it at all.

After the age of 40, stay in the security army or go to the college to teach, save some savings and realize the dream of a previous life, buy a house in the inner city and the suburbs, want a water-friendly mansion, and have a big garden, which can be used from morning to night. sunbathing...

With yearning for a better life, Anson pushed the door and walked into the back living room of Bogner's mansion, following the knitted pattern carpet that stretched from the stairs to the door.

In front of the warm fireplace, Lisa rested her hands on the edge of the chair and waited boredly with her calves dangling. When she saw Anson's hostility, she jumped off the chair, happily picked up her rifle, and appeared in front of him:

"Anson, are you leaving?"

"Well, it's done." Anson nodded, rubbing her small head and messy brown hair by the way - probably because of the nutrition, Lisa's hair became thick and thick, and it felt to the touch Also good:

"Thank you for your hard work, it must be boring to stay here all the time, right?"

Although it may seem odd to have his sister be his captain of the guard, it is no more outlandish than a skipper captain who doesn't know his way at all and an artillery captain who doesn't understand mathematics.

"No, the people here are very kind to Lisa!" Lisa, who narrowed her eyes with a smile, pointed to the oil stains on the corner of her mouth, and then pointed to the clean and reflective plates and knives and forks on the table:

"They made Lisa's cheesy onion soup and stewed snails, both of which were delicious; Lisa has already asked how these two dishes are made, will they make them for Anson tonight?!"

"...Of course."

Anson, whose mouth moved slightly, lost all his goodwill towards Viscount Bogner at this moment.

"Oh, yes!" Lisa patted her head as if she suddenly remembered, and reached into the pocket of the upper body of the military uniform:

"Someone handed Lisa a letter saying that it should be handed over to Anson as soon as possible!"

"Letter?" Raising his eyebrows, An Sen asked subconsciously:

"Who is it?"

"He's a very strange person - his hair is as dark as Anson's but curly; his clothes are so tight that he can't walk at all." Lisa handed the letter to Anson:

"She still smells weird, and it makes Lisa want to sneeze!"

she?

A bad premonition made Anson immediately pick out the envelope and unfold it, and a line of smooth and beautiful characters came into his sight:

[To His Excellency Anson Bach: Tonight at 8:20, there is a dinner at St. Isaac's College. My father hopes that you will be there at that time. Remember to change your clothes. The invitation is attached to the letter - Sophia Franz . 】

Sophia Franz... Anson couldn't help twitching the corners of his mouth, and took out the Inquisitor's pocket watch from his pocket.

The dinner time is 8:20, and now it is 3:50 pm, which means that I have four and a half hours left-according to Clovis's custom, a dinner is usually at least three days to one month in advance. The previous decision, excluding the time Sophia came, means that Archbishop Luther temporarily decided to invite himself before noon...

What's going on here?

Anson shook his head, no matter why he had no time to think about it now - he had to find a way to get dressed in four and a half hours, and then appear at St. Isaac's College!

So he had to sigh, patted Lisa's little head, and said in a very regretful tone:

"Sorry Lisa, I have other work tonight - there's no way for you to do dinner tonight, we might have to eat out."

"Oh."

Lisa pouted in disappointment.

Just as Anson walked towards the door while comforting the little girl, a hurried voice suddenly came from the empty back living room:

"Lieutenant Colonel Anson Bach, and Miss Lisa Bach, please stay!"

Anson looked back with a surprised expression, and it was the young waiter who brought coffee to him and the old gentleman; his pace was extremely fast, but there was no rush at all, and every move maintained a different kind of elegance.

What's even more strange is that Anson has no idea where he came from, and even the whole mansion seems to be quiet and there is no one except the old gentleman.

"I'm very sorry to waste your time, but the Viscount entrusted me to give this to you personally."

Stopping steadily, the young waiter handed Anson an envelope with both hands - the envelope looked very thick.

"Sorry, but allow me to decline."

Taking a serious look at the envelope, holding Lisa's small head in one hand and the suitcase in the other, An Sen said righteously:

"I am not bribed."

Looking at An Sen's expression, the young waiter who suddenly burst into laughter immediately restrained his expression: "I'm sorry, I didn't explain it clearly, which made you misunderstood."

"This letter is not for you, but for your landlord."

"landlord?"

Anson froze for a moment, then came to his senses immediately—he was talking about Mrs. Bogner, the old gentleman's ex-wife.

I was able to rent a house at Mrs. Bogner's, only by the letter of introduction from the old gentleman!

"For some special and indescribable reasons, the Viscount was unable to meet the distinguished lady on a formal occasion...but he has always been concerned about her standard of living and health."

The young waiter sighed: "This letter is just a little care for the Viscount, and a little compensation for failing to fulfill his responsibilities; it is out of absolute trust in your personal character that the Viscount entrusts you to send it to the Lady's."

"Also please bring a word for the Viscount, he has been thinking about her, he has been thinking about her."

In just a few short sentences and the young waiter's expression full of regret, An Sen was already able to make up tens of thousands of words of bitterness.

"...I definitely, definitely."

Imitating the characters he had seen in his previous life, An Sen took the envelope with sincere eyes, put it in the inner pocket of his shirt as if it were a thousand pounds, and left the Bogner mansion with heavy steps. .

Sitting in the bumpy taxi carriage, looking at the girl who fell asleep on the seat as usual, Anson took a deep breath and opened the black suitcase.

Inside the box were neatly stacked six old manuscripts, a spectacles case, a wooden jewelry box, and a briar dark green slender smooth pipe.

These are the "first money" that Viscount Bogner gave himself.

With a little curiosity, An Sen first opened the glasses case. A delicate and small monocle lay on the satin inside. A series of complicated characters were engraved on the round-rimmed frame of pure gold.

He carefully picked up the glasses, and a slender note was pressed under the satin:

[Anonymous glasses: The masterpiece of a fifth-order black magic caster, the glasses are applied with a range of psychological suggestion magic, so that people around them will subconsciously ignore the person wearing it, even if they pass in front of them, they will be unaware; eyes The inscription on the border comes from a magician in the fifty-sixth year of the saint's calendar: the most visible is the most hidden. 】

This is a good ability... Anson's eyes lit up.

Although when the old gentleman took out the box, he probably guessed that these were probably the private collections of the viscount, and in order to avoid being discovered during the investigation of the trial, he stuffed them into himself as a reward; but he could take out the magic items easily, Still a bit unexpected by Anson.

It seems that fiddling with magic tools and studying the old gods is a common private activity in the aristocratic circle of the Clovis Kingdom...

Just as Anson couldn't help but continue to look at the monocle in his palm, he found that there was a line of small words on the back of the note.

[The owner of this item tried to break into the vault of the Church of Order and was killed on the spot in the eighty-eighth year of the Saint Calendar, confirming that this item is invalid for spellcasters of Tier 4 or above, and those who possess the power of insight-like bloodline. 】

"..." Nodding vaguely, An Sen put his eyes back in the box, picked up another jewelry box that looked very delicate, and gently opened the copper button on the lock of the box.

Inside the box is a sterling silver ring inlaid with citrine.

[Winekeeper's Ring: A prop made by an unknown blood magic caster. In the case of injury or poisoning, one end of citrine pierces the skin, which can quickly repair or prevent the spread of toxins, and effectively suppress pain. Every twelve Can be used once an hour. 】

Well, it is also a very practical ability, and it also fits the style of blood magic... Anson nodded, this time he was not immediately happy, but turned over to look at the back of the note:

[This item is ineffective against severe bleeding and fatal injuries, and is ineffective against magical toxins; the number of times the ring itself can be used is a basic quantification, and it can be used repeatedly if it has not reached its peak value. 】

Very reasonable, the only question is what degree of poisoning it judges, whether it is only chemical poisoning, or metal and gas poisoning, and what is the difference in the inhibitory effects of various types... Are you looking for one? Chances are, try it on some hapless one?

An Sen, who couldn't help but start thinking, turned his attention to the third item, the pipe; he gently picked up the pipe, and the slender note was stuffed in the mouth of the pipe:

[Steam pipe: a conjurer's joke, which can instantly create smoke that covers a twenty square meter space and block sight; he also paid the price for his joke, and was hit by lead bullets together with the robbers in an accidental robbery. Dead - because the guards couldn't see him at all. 】

Looking at the exquisite pipe in his hand, An Sen mourned for the conjurer for a second in his heart.

In addition to the magic props, the remaining six manuscripts are all related to the old gods. Anson even saw the "Three Old Gods Research" that Mace Hornard gave him before; according to the standards of the Inquisition , each one is enough to experience a "steam bath".

Although these three items cover the three major magic systems at the same time, they are all inclined to self-protection or hidden functions in terms of attributes and use functions. Only the "steam pipe" is barely a little aggressive. If it's offensive...

In addition to all the magic items that Anson has encountered or seen before, almost without exception, they belong to this category. The only threatening one is Old Wall Street, the "Death Horn" potion in Bron's hands.

Does this imply some sort of "unspoken rule"?

The Church of Order can acquiesce to the private existence of such non-lethal magical props and documents to a certain extent, but will they resolutely eradicate offensive props or potions and materials that shake the Church of Order's dominance?

Cole Dorian also mentioned in a small chat before that the Tribunal can occasionally be "generous" to spellcasters below the third level, which means that only spellcasters below this level will not. Seen as a threat by the Church of Order?

If this point is used as an argument~www.mtlnovel.com~, then how to explain the problem of "Black Mage"? They already know the true identity of Mace Hornard, but why are they still not doing it?

Is the risk too high? No riots? Are there other forces blocking it?

Closing the suitcase, Anson guessed aimlessly.

Just when he was thinking wildly, the carriage slowly stopped; Lisa, who was sleeping on the seat, also rubbed her eyes, got up with a yawn, and looked strangely out of the unfamiliar car window: "Where are we? ?"

"We're...well...in a place where we can turn Lisa into a little princess."

"Little princess?"

It was a word Lisa had never heard of.

"It means cute girl."

The smiling Anson took Lisa's little hand and walked towards the old Alfred tailor shop outside the carriage.

Chapter end