“May 1st,” Ulrich repeated under his breath, then left Slough House to head toward Port Ratt.
...
The night was chilling and weary. Each breath carries a layer of fog, and with enough people hurrying back and forth near the dock, a dense layer of mist naturally formed. As Ulrich made it to the dock of Portsmouth, he couldn’t help but lament to the black sky.
The only thought in his mind was the regret and grief in knowing that if the moon existed, the night would be exhaustively beautiful. However, this thought was fleeting, as brief as a drop of dew in the morning, or the moon reflected on the water's surface.
Ulrich pressed down on his black cap, avoiding the prying eyes of dock workers as well as factory laborers. They were busy, like ants crawling from one colony to the next, and fortunately, his appearance did not attract any attention.
Before meeting Victor again, he took the time to stall his movement in order to perform a quick divination on the way. To him, divination had become easier with each attempt and practice. The only aspect that remained unchanged is the sensation of weakness that washed over him each time. This was inevitable, such were the consequences of using one’s spirituality.
At this moment, Ulrich fiddled with the coin in his hand, occasionally stopping in the middle of the sidewalk to steady his mind.
There were many inquiries that required further confirmation, but the most crucial one in his mind was this: Is the resistance behind the kidnapping in May, June, and July? The reason behind his sudden query is the date that Donnie Shelby gave him—May 1st. Coincidentally, this is also around the date when the first kidnapping occurred and thereafter.
This matter… shouldn’t face any inference. Following the divination's second principle of "Informativeness", the result should be rather accurate; in fact, it should be a direct confirmation.
He doubted that the Resistance would have the means to interfere or distort his divination, after all, in such a case, wouldn’t the Ministry be aware of them possessing such capabilities?
With that in mind, he rephrased the question into a statement before tossing the coin into the air.
Clink. Clink.
After two seconds, Ulrich swiped the air, catching the copper coin with his right hand. A copper metal coin should feel cold to the touch, yet, as it rested at the center of his palm, he felt warm. A kind of heat similar to hot water that has yet to cool down.
He wanted to keep his finger tucked, but didn’t, and instead, slowly opened to reveal the anchor and laurel of the Union Republic—False.
Seeing this, his eyes dimmed a little. To make sure it was correct beyond a reasonable doubt, he decided to perform the same divination again. This time, the reflection of the anchor and its laurel remained the same.
“No?” He uttered while stuffing the coin into his pocket, then shook off that sensation of weakness before making his way to the dock.
The dock stretches into the black waters like a crooked finger, its weathered timbers groaning beneath the ceaseless tread of laborers. Without moonlight to soften the scene, the night presses close and oppressive, broken only by the feeble glow of oil lamps that swing from iron hooks along the wharf's edge.
Ulrich stood next to a giant warehouse on the side of an unmarked walkway. Some workers had noticed his presence, but none walked up to interact with him. Regardless of the reason, he was delighted to be left alone.
From here, he looked toward the dock and noticed a familiar figure. It was Victor Dundley, speaking to another man in a dark brown suit. They both stood on top the wharf, unfazed by the frequent passing laborers.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Rufus Bradley? Ulrich assumed, fiddling with the coin in his pocket, before taking a step forward to the wharf. The walk from the unmarked road to the wharf was short of two minutes.
When he finally got to the entrance, a long, pointy spearhead stopped him. He stared at his reflection in the metal shaft, his eyes traced its long length, eventually making their way toward the person at the other end.
It was a burly man dressed in a plain white shirt with black pants. He wore a heavy belt on his waist, the kind that would easily hold many rounds of ammunition if he tried. Other than this, there was nothing remarkable about his attire. If anything about his appearance, the most notable one is the number of scars running along his arm and face.
A harpoonist? Instinctively, Ulrich reached his hand toward his waist, feeling the cold touch of his revolver; however, he stopped himself when he realized his current whereabouts.
“I’m here with my good colleague, he’s standing right there,” Ulrich pointed at Victor, wearing a slight smile on his face.
“Colleague?”
At this moment, Victor, as well as the man in front of him, must have noticed the commotion, because they both turned their head at the same time. Ulrich met Victor's confused gaze and shrugged with both his hands in the air.
Seeing this, the harpoonist quickly retracted his long spear before bowing his head slightly,” My apology, sir.”
“No problem.”
Without the harpoonist stopping him, Ulrich made his way next to Victor. He stood just about four feet from 'Rufus Bradley', and he immediately it was Rufus Bradley, because holy mother above, the amount of colors on this man's fingers was enough to paint the next Starry Night.
Of course, he kept the thoughts to himself while taking off his black cap, then pressed it against his chest before offering a rather elegant greeting, “Ulrich Constantine, Sir.”
Seeing his refined demeanor, Rufus couldn’t help but wear a bright smile as he also took off his hat to return the same gesture,” Rufus Bradley, it is good to meet you. I assume you are a colleague of Sir Dunley?”
Ulrich nodded,” Yes, sir. New recruit in fact. I have the blessing of the Mother to be working with these great men.”
At this moment, Victor's eyes narrowed, feeling that they were getting off topic. It was already late, and with the disappearance of Albert, there wasn’t much time to waste. He quickly interjected himself and steered the course of the conversation. At the same time, Ulrich was glad to let him take control and stood next to him to observe Rufus Bradley’s body language.
“Mr. Bradley, if you don’t mind, I do have one final question.”
“Of course not! Ask away, I will answer it if it is within my capability to do so.”
“Can you think of anyone who might have the intention of framing you regarding the disappearance of Albert? Potential competitors, perhaps?”
Hearing this, Rufus grew silent, his eyes closed as he fell into deep contemplation. After about a minute, he let out a deep sigh and expressed his condolences.
“There aren’t many I would consider ‘potential competitors’, as a matter of fact, in Portsmouth, arrogant as it may sound, I have no competition. After all, there is only one dock, and I own this dock, much thanks to the blessing of the Great Mother above.”
Aren’t you pious… To think you’re a believer of the Night Mother. Why don’t I ever see you attend church? Ulrich mused, but didn’t refute the man.
Actually, if he were to personally name someone who is a competitor, he would say the Shelby Family. They have been expanding their businesses even before his departure from Slough House, going as far as reaching their hand toward the port as of late.
Not to mention, it sounds like Rufus Bradley was unaware of the fact that a certain big package slipped passed his dock and entered the hand of Donnie Shelby. If he were to learn of this, would he name-drop the Shelby Family on the dot?
While Ulrich was deep in his thoughts, Victor noted Rufus Bradley’s words in his blue notebook absentmindedly. After doing so, he placed it back into his pocket before offering a sincere word of gratitude.
“Thank you for your time. I appreciate it.” He said, extending his hand forward.
There was a smile on his face, one that an outsider assumed was friendly. Yet Ulrich saw it differently. In fact, he himself wore the same smile, and to him, this smile was just a puppet face used to deceive others.
At the same time, Rufus Bradley clasped his hands together, producing a loud clap,” No, no, your endeavors are worthy of admiration and respect.”
“Let us pray to the mother that the culprit will be found, for her ears are in the walls, and sea, and beyond the five luminants!”
Hearing this, Victor maintained that same smile. He offered no comment and tapped his chest thrice,” Praise the mother.”
“Praised the mother,” Rufus Bradley repeated.
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