The summoned adventurers gathered and left the city patrol guards office in the Lukavaro District.
Charlot once again used his silver tongue to persuade the remaining adventurers to help clean and repair the office building.
At No. 1 Falcon Street, there were two office buildings: one served as the "dormitory" and the other as the office, large enough to accommodate nearly a thousand people for living and working. There was also a stable, but it was currently empty, with neither a single horse nor a carriage in sight.
This was the outer district, after all. The living facilities here were far inferior to those in the Upper Seven Districts. There was no piped water supply—just a single well.
By the time those sent to buy food and ale returned, the office was already beginning to look presentable under Charlot's direction.
After eating and drinking, the adventurers finally began to relax. A few female adventurers even performed cheerful dances on the spot.
Life outside the city was not so leisurely, after all. Although most people still didn’t fully trust Charlot, their mood had noticeably stabilized.
Charlot didn’t stay to entertain the adventurers. He hired a carriage and returned to his residence in the Picardy District.
...
Pushing open the door, he saw two letters. At 58 Elysée Avenue, there was a mail slot for letters and newspapers beside the front door. Inside, a box collected the deliveries—standard for such slightly higher-class residences.
One letter was from Miss Menielman, and the other from Miss Annie Bretagne.
Charlot had been away from Strasbourg for the past few days and guessed that the two hadn’t been able to find him, so they left letters. He opened Menielman's letter first, which contained only a simple sentence:
"Stay patient and endure, no matter your current position. I’ll arrange for you to transfer to the Imperial Navy in due time."
Charlot smiled faintly, thinking to himself: It seems something went wrong with the position Menielman arranged for me. I wasn’t originally supposed to become the Chief Clerk of the Lukavaro District city patrol guards.
Menielman had hinted before that he would enter the military, possibly being transferred far away from Strasbourg to join her in the Imperial Navy.
But now…
The Fars Empire government was rife with political intrigues and shady dealings. Even someone like Menielman, from a top aristocratic family, couldn’t act entirely as she pleased.
Miss Annie Bretagne's letter was much longer and even asked if he had time recently. However, the most important part read:
"The Behemoth Principality has declared war on the Southern Seraph territory. Please exercise caution, reduce your outings, and, if possible, avoid leaving the Upper Seven Districts."
Although Charlot was a transmigrator, he still sighed deeply. War was unavoidable. He could already predict what would come next: the Southern Seraphs would seek aid from Byron and the Black Phoenix Dynasty, and the Fars Empire would inevitably be drawn into the conflict…
...
Three days later, it was Monday.
In the Fars Empire, government departments issued wages every Monday. Because of this, Mondays had earned an affectionate nickname among all workers—Imperial Payday.
Although non-government employees didn’t necessarily receive their wages on this day, the Lukavaro District city patrol guards all received their salaries for the week.
Charlot finally breathed a sigh of relief. His efforts hadn’t gone to waste.
However, there was still a small incident that day.
Charlot met someone familiar.
He encountered Dubin, the young and handsome city patrol guard who had been responsible for the Yanmills murder case and was supposed to be stationed in the Alexander District.
Dubin wasn’t alone. He brought over a hundred city patrol guards to report for duty. When Dubin saw Charlot’s surprised expression, he called out, “Aren’t you Mr. Mecklenburg? I thought you worked in the Central Government Office. How did you end up here with the city patrol guards? And like me, transferred to the Lukavaro District!”
Charlot smiled and replied, “There’s an old saying in the New Continent: Life is full of unexpected reunions. It seems we’ve met again!”
“Allow me to reintroduce myself. Charlot Mecklenburg, Chief Clerk of the Lukavaro District city patrol guards, Grade 35, Level 3 Chief Clerk—your direct superior.”
Dubin was dumbfounded, his mouth hanging open. After a long pause, he asked, “Can I ask… Are you the illegitimate son of some great noble family?”
The last time Dubin met Charlot, the latter had introduced himself as a First-class civil servant. Now he had suddenly risen to Level 3 Chief Clerk. The speed of this promotion was nothing short of shocking.
Charlot smiled faintly and said, “If you run into me on the street, I’m still just a First-class civil servant.”
Dubin assumed Charlot had downplayed his true position last time to avoid drawing attention and felt slightly reassured. Even so, someone this young rising so quickly to Level 3 Chief Clerk was still hard to accept. However, Dubin knew better than to pry further into matters of background—such questions were private and best left unspoken.
Charlot also had questions of his own. “Why are you and your colleagues reporting for duty in the Lukavaro District?”
Dubin explained, “I heard there was a batch of freeloaders here who were worried about being purged. They pulled some strings and arranged for their transfer to the Upper Seven Districts city patrol guards. Meanwhile, we—because we lack powerful connections—got booted over here to fill the gaps they left behind.”
“The good news is, we were all promoted by one rank!”
“The bad news is, under normal promotion timelines, we were supposed to be promoted half a year from now anyway.”
“I’m Dubin Alger! Graduate of Habosk Public Academy, Grade 47, Level 3 Squad Leader—and your First Patrol Team Captain!”
Charlot was surprised. “Habosk Public Academy? The alma mater of Zimourman Axel Robin? How did you not qualify for the national institutes?”
Habosk Public Academy was the best public academy in the Fars Empire—bar none. Its graduates might not always make it to university, but failing to enter the national institutes was almost unheard of.
Dubin shrugged and said, “I got into a fight at school. My punishment barred me from sitting for the national institutes exam.”
Charlot spread his hands and said, “Well, that’s certainly the national institutes’ loss.”
Dubin had been disgruntled about his transfer, but meeting a familiar face lifted his mood. At the very least, Charlot didn’t seem like the kind of superior who would make life difficult for his subordinates. Dubin then introduced Charlot to the hundred-plus city patrol guards he’d brought along. Most of them came from commoner backgrounds and were transferred from various districts, not just the Alexander District.
It was clear Dubin was a seasoned city patrol guard who had built connections across districts. He had naturally become the leader among the new transfers.
Charlot accepted the “seasoned veterans” of the Lukavaro District city patrol guards with a sigh. His appointment as Chief Clerk here was clearly the result of someone fearing he’d act as a “new broom” and root out problems, so they preemptively fled the scene.