Chapter 254 - 205: External Interface

"Frank, Germania, Sami, the Ros Empire... In recent years, all the major nations on the Western Continent have had cases involving them. The intelligence was shared from their side.

The case files contain fragments of their doctrine and after-action reports from a few attacks. That’s it.

Live specimens? The entire Western Continent hasn’t managed to capture more than a handful in all these years."

"The higher-ups previously assessed that within the Imperial borders, they had, at most, a few insignificant contact points in the coastal ports near the Imperial Mainland—not even proper branches."

She pointed to the two herbal ingredients.

"To be able to consistently harvest Silent Fern from the edge of the Deep Realm means they’ve already established a complete gathering line within the Imperial borders.

A few port contacts couldn’t possibly support an operation of this scale."

"Our previous assessment was completely wrong."

"They’ve been lying dormant within the Imperial borders for who knows how many years, only to make such a huge move tonight."

"Bring me that paper," Mrs. MacNeil gestured to Old Big.

The paper, folded to the size of a palm, was retrieved from an innermost pocket. It was more than halfway soaked through with blood.

"That’s a lot of blood." Old Big leaned in and sniffed. "It’s not just his."

"It’s mixed with someone else’s," the Spirit Medium confirmed. "The files from the Western Continent mention that the Echo Society uses the blood of its own people as ink.

Before, it was just a sentence someone wrote in a report. Tonight is the first time I’ve seen the real thing with my own eyes."

She gently unfolded the blood-soaked paper.

Richard recognized it at a glance. It was a map of the Brighton City canal system.

But the original lines of the map were almost completely obscured by blood. Only in a few spots along the edges, where the blood hadn’t soaked through, could he faintly make out a few abbreviations written in miners’ slang.

Richard recognized two of those abbreviations almost without having to think.

"Seventh Lane," "Mute Wellhead."

The Spirit Medium carefully scanned the blood-soaked map.

"The blood is covering the main part. I’ll have to use Spirit Communication to redraw the original map."

She took a Small Copper Box from her leather case and lifted the lid. Inside were several charcoal pens, sharpened to extremely fine points.

The Spirit Medium drew one out and dipped it in the Developer Solution in the Copper Disc.

She slowly began to draw on a clean sheet of white paper.

Richard watched her put pen to paper.

Every stroke was decisive. She was "calling" the original map from beneath the blood, inch by inch, back from behind the Curtain.

He could hear the Spirit Medium’s extremely soft murmuring, suppressed deep in her throat.

Old Big made a gesture at him, meaning ’Don’t look, don’t listen, don’t remember.’

Richard averted his gaze and turned back toward the corpse.

The only sound left in the entire morgue was the scratching of the Spirit Medium’s pen across the paper.

Soon, a complete map emerged on the white paper.

At each point, the Spirit Medium had written a corresponding code name in tiny script.

Seventh Lane, Mute Wellhead, Black Stone Mine.

The three small Blood Soaking Points mentioned in the "Well Forbidden Song" were all on it.

Richard counted them. There were thirteen points, scattered along the Brighton City canal system, forming a network that wasn’t dense but had an extremely wide coverage.

"They’ve already set up points across the entire city."

"Mm," Mrs. MacNeil said, setting down her pen.

"The West Suburb was just a window. What they’re really doing is on this map."

"Looking at it tonight, half of the information shared in the files doesn’t even match up."

Old Big leaned in.

He glanced at the thirteen points, and the expression on his face slowly grew grim.

"Senior, two of these points... they’re in the district I manage."

"Which two?"

"The one in the North District’s second parish," he pointed. "And the spot on the northern section of the North District Canal."

"From last year to this year, both of those locations have had significantly more bodies registered than in previous years."

He took off his hat and rubbed the back of his neck with the back of his hand.

"The death register I’ve signed this winter is thicker than any winter I can remember."

"The body count in the North District climbs every year. At first, I just thought it was the coal smoke, the cold winter, the poor not being able to hold on..."

Old Big waved a hand, brushing the thought from his brow.

"I’ll go back and pull out all the registers from the past few years, sort through them."

Richard held back for a moment before asking tentatively.

"In that case... will you be alright, going through all that by yourself?"

Old Big let out a hearty laugh.

He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out the copper penny he usually used for magic tricks, spinning it between his fingers.

"What could happen to a coroner like me?"

"I’m the safest person in Brighton. The dead don’t bite."

The coin flipped over on his fingertips.

"I’ve been in this line of work for so many years. I’ve cut open eight thousand, if not ten thousand, clients, and every one of them lies still and behaves themselves once they’re on my table.

If this job were really that dangerous, the old master wouldn’t have sent me off to be a coroner back in the day."

He pocketed the coin, his tone shifting.

"Besides, if I ever end up on this slab myself one day, I won’t have to worry too much."

"Not worry?"

"My senior will have to collect my body, won’t she?"

Old Big glanced over at Mrs. MacNeil.

"She can perform Spirit Communication. She’ll definitely be able to ask who did me in."

"Bigelow," Mrs. MacNeil spoke up from the other side.

"One more wisecrack out of you, and I’ll put you on that slab right now."

Old Big immediately shut his mouth.

Mrs. MacNeil looked up at Richard.

"According to the rules, none of these artifacts can be taken out of here."

Richard nodded obediently. He hadn’t expected to take anything with him anyway.

Old Big got to work, pushing the enamel tray to the side.