Before leaving, Francis Drake gave only one instruction: “Send the pirate leaders to Britain as our war trophies. The rest are yours to handle.”
Charlot had yet to figure out how to stall for a few more days or how to discreetly silence Chatham without drawing suspicion. Unexpectedly, James Cook and Francis Drake had no intention of taking Chatham away and only required a few pirate leaders.
Charlot readily agreed with utmost sincerity. After all, with the six pirate ships from Chatham, he was just one ship short of completing the labyrinth transformation. These two had inadvertently done him a huge favor.
Although relieved to have avoided immediate trouble, Charlot felt a deep concern. The deployment of two magical alchemy battleships, mainstays of the Ingrima Empire’s navy, was surely no trivial matter. He could only hope that their mission was not targeted at the Fars Empire.
Three days after Cook and Drake’s departure, a merchant ship from Britain arrived, carrying a letter from High Priest Auguslatin. The letter urged Charlot to finish his “personal matters” and rendezvous in Britain as soon as possible.
Overjoyed, Charlot promptly announced he was requisitioning the merchant ship. Seeing the merchant’s shocked and angry expression, he laughed it off as a joke.
Unbeknownst to anyone, during this “joke,” the labyrinth transformation of Cappadocia was quietly completed. The diary relayed a thought: Charlot Mecklenburg attacked and occupied the city of Cappadocia, repelling and capturing Chatham’s pirate fleet. The labyrinth transformation granted two direct passages to Machubi and Silver Dove Castle.
The diary also indicated that a second transformation was possible. However, Charlot decisively gave up on the idea, knowing he couldn’t procure another eighteen ships in a short time. Besides, with Auguslatin summoning him, it was time to head to Britain for their rendezvous.
Charlot handed the mixed fleet of pirates, slaves, and Cappadocia residents to Siman, the merchant ship’s owner, and Cruse, the former Chief Overseer of Cappadocia. Without interrogating them, he beheaded Chatham and his key men, sealed their heads in boxes, and embarked on the merchant ship with his original crew for Britain.
As a Farsian, bringing an entire fleet into Britain could easily provoke diplomatic conflicts.
Charlot had heard of Britain’s prosperity while in the Fars Empire, but upon entering Britain’s port, he was still astonished by the flourishing state of this emerging city.
A port city with a river flowing through it to the sea, Britain was adorned with countless colossal structures that seemed like marvels. Over two hundred bridges spanned the river, giving the city an aesthetic that was slightly medieval punk in style.
After disembarking, Charlot hired several carriages and led his team directly to Embassy Street.
In the Old Continent, Embassy Streets not only housed embassies but also government institutions such as administrative bureaus and city patrol guards.
Charlot first visited the city patrol station, where he handed over the heads of Chatham and his key men along with a written document. In it, he portrayed James Cook and Francis Drake as heroes who rescued foreign envoys, secured Cappadocia, and defeated a pirate fleet.
Since he had promised Francis Drake, he would keep his word. Cook and Drake, both rising stars of the Ingrima Empire, had boundless prospects. While Charlot wasn’t certain if he’d need their help in the future, he sincerely sought to establish good relations.
With that task done, Charlot proceeded to the Fars Embassy. Using his diplomatic credentials, he quickly secured accommodations. However, when he inquired about High Priest Auguslatin, everyone professed ignorance.
Charlot’s inquiries only revealed that the High Priest led a vibrant social life, often leaving early and returning late, or not returning at all. He was, in essence, a peculiar “social butterfly.”
Seeking clarity, Charlot turned to the embassy’s second-in-command, Viscount Durenny, who owned property in Britain. The viscount had left for his residence on his second day in Britain and hadn’t been seen since.
After a fruitless search for influential figures within the embassy, Charlot found himself directionless. Having no prior experience as a diplomat in either his past or current life, he mulled over his options before deciding to explore Britain and familiarize himself with the city while shopping for weapons.
Diplomatic personnel were restricted in carrying weapons. To avoid trouble during inspections, Charlot had sent his spatial weapons and magical pistol, Blood Rose, back to Machubi through his Mind Channel before arriving on the British Isles. Since he had lent his Silver Knight to Belisa, believing it suited her skills, he hadn’t retrieved it. His only weapon now was the Blood Rose, a magical rapier not on the restricted list.
Flush with gold pounds from his windfall in Cappadocia, Charlot was financially secure.
Upon leaving Embassy Street, Charlot noticed two British city patrol guards following him. Understanding it as routine surveillance, he greeted them warmly before continuing his search for a weapons shop.
Despite being new to Britain, Charlot’s proficiency in seven Old Continent languages, including Ingrimaic, quickly led him to the city’s busiest street. There, he found an exquisitely decorated weapons shop with an impressive signboard that read: Old Flor’s Shop.
Intrigued by the sign, Charlot pushed the door open. The shop was a sprawling five-story building, each floor covering over two thousand square pimi—three to four times the size of Charlot’s 58 Elysée Avenue. The shop’s courtyard, however, was modest, capable of holding just one carriage, a clear trade-off in its construction.
The first floor, designed with a classic layout, featured counters on all sides and a circular counter at the center, which housed the staircase to the upper floors. Behind the circular counter, over a dozen staff bustled about, attending to customers.
A young saleswoman approached Charlot with a respectful tone. “Sir, how may I assist you?”
Her appearance was unremarkable, far from beautiful, but her youth and trained demeanor lent her a pleasant charm.
Charlot silently praised the shop’s staff training and smiled. “I’m looking for a suitable weapon.”
Although wealthy, Charlot’s extensive life experiences kept him from revealing his eagerness. Instead, he projected an air of casual browsing.
The saleswoman’s eyes brightened slightly. “You’ve come at the perfect time! We’ve just received a batch of premium goods. If you had come a few days later, they would’ve all been snapped up—they’re in such high demand.”
Charlot silently commended the shop again. There was no way this sales pitch was improvised. The owner had undoubtedly trained her meticulously.
Feigning casual interest, Charlot replied, “Then please show me a few rapiers. Standard models will do. If you have any vampire weapons, bring them all.”
The shop primarily profited from magical items, with standard goods serving as supplementary sales.
Hearing his request for standard models, the saleswoman’s enthusiasm dimmed slightly, though her expression barely changed. However, upon hearing “vampire weapons,” her mood surged again. She whispered, “The vampire weapons are not displayed here. Please follow me to the third floor.”
Unfazed, Charlot followed her through the circular counter and up two flights of stairs.
The third floor comprised private VIP rooms, each resembling a cozy reception area with tea and tobacco available.
Soon, over a dozen vampire weapons were laid before Charlot, three of which were vampiric weapons—an extremely rare category even among vampires and nearly unheard of among humans.
Charlot had only ever seen a handful of such weapons. Even the finest stores in Fars struggled to stock them. Louis Simy had accidentally acquired two vampiric weapons in Byron—a stroke of luck. For Old Flor’s Shop to offer three demonstrated its exceptional quality.
Charlot picked up a vampiric dagger, examined its engravings, and remarked, “Arthur Clan inscription. Unfortunately, it’s not from a prestigious line, and the blood core’s quality is mediocre.” Putting the dagger aside, he thought, I’m not a fan of daggers anyway.
Displaying the discerning eye of a niche weapon collector, Charlot impressed the saleswoman. She whispered, “This is the first time our shop has had so many vampiric weapons. Their origins are complicated. Had you come a day earlier, you wouldn’t have seen them.”
Given their limited use—vampiric weapons could only function in a vampire’s hands and would drain the wielder’s life force otherwise—they were mainly of interest to collectors. The saleswoman was eager to sell them, even bending rules to subtly push them.
Charlot, unfazed by her attempts, showed no interest in low-level tactics.
One vampiric weapon, a rapier, caught his attention. Superior in quality to the dagger, it was crafted by the Bellows Clan, known for mediocre swordsmanship and rapiers. Charlot examined it briefly and set it down. With the Blood Rose already in his possession, he had no need for another vampiric rapier.
The third weapon was a short gun.
Vampires had a penchant for rapiers and short guns, with several becoming famous weapons of their time. Though Julian had mentioned Byron’s development of long-range alchemical rifles, Charlot had never seen a transcendent vampire gun.
This short gun, clearly not mass-produced, displayed masterful craftsmanship, but Charlot couldn’t place its origins.
As he studied the weapon, a cheerful voice called out, “Well, if it isn’t Mr. Kainan! What brings you to my humble shop?”
Julian Arsilo entered the VIP room and gave Charlot a hearty hug, leaving the saleswoman visibly conflicted.
Recognizing the young man as a true VIP acquainted with her boss, she realized her anticipated commission had vanished.
Understanding the situation, she discreetly withdrew, as per the shop’s training: know your place, speak only when appropriate, and retreat when necessary.
Charlot was genuinely surprised. “You own property in Britain?”
Julian smiled. “Let’s talk on the fifth floor. It’s more private.”
Leading Charlot to an opulent and private office, Julian revealed, “My surname is Arsilo. I’m a descendant of one of the three Vampire Queens. Owning foreign property is hardly unusual.”
Charlot found the revelation startling. Moreover, Julian’s demeanor had undergone a dramatic transformation since their last meeting—gone was the naive boy; in his place stood a man of refined composure.
Taking a seat, Charlot accepted the tea Julian offered but said nothing.
Silence settled in the room, creating a strange tension.
Charlot sipped his tea and, finding it free of blood bait, smiled slightly. Setting the cup down, he introduced himself formally: “Allow me to reintroduce myself. I am Charlot Mecklenburg, Chief Overseer of the Lukavaro District, Head of the West Wind Knight Order, Director of the Administrative Bureau, Special Envoy of the Fars Empire to the Ingrima Empire, and Second-Class Deputy Secretary of the Twenty-Eighth Rank.”
Julian’s smile broadened. “Julian Arsilo, first-year student at Heidelberg University, recently promoted to First-Class Second-Lieutenant.”
“Dear senior! As a fledgling, I’ve had much to learn, but you’ve taught me some truly solid lessons!”
Charlot had indeed deceived Julian and harbored no goodwill toward him at the time. But as a transmigrator, Charlot had grown accustomed to such moral flexibility. Feigning embarrassment, he said, “War and deception are the greatest teachers. In just a few days, you’ve grown from a naive boy into a competent man.”
“Congratulations!”
Julian poured himself tea and replied evenly, “I always thought the first to deceive me would be a beautiful older woman. Instead, a wretched senior beat her to it.”