Jorgen-9

Upon seeing Jorgen enter the reception room, Galin understood that his unfortunate premonition had come true.

"Why didn't you tell me that Crecyda has arrived at Stromgarde?"

"Mr. Jorgen, you've just arrived. We have only one formal meeting between us, and I didn't want less important matters to divert our attention."

"I don't think this is unimportant," Jorgen said. "I didn't expect to know everything in our first meeting. But as far as I know, you actively invited Crecyda here, and that changes things. Do you have a plan regarding her?"

"No, not at all. But Mr. Jorgen, are you accusing me? That's impolite. And how do you know about this? If someone from those who should guard secrets leaked it, it would be destructive intelligence work."

"My people were searching for Crecyda in the refuge valley. Soldiers there said she had been invited to Stromgarde. It's not much of a secret. Where is she now?"

"She's staying well in the room I provided for her, with a maid even."

"So you've temporarily confined her."

"I choose a more suitable term: 'sheltered.' She's a poor woman driven mad by the loss of her husband, not knowing what she's doing. I've taken her in. It's for her good and ours. I can't tolerate her playing tricks on the Arathor Kingdom's battlefield with joint letters."

Jorgen had tried to speak in a businesslike manner earlier. He understood not to emphasize too much that Prince Galin had deceived him. In this bidirectional deceptive communication, actively revealing the opponent's shield never brought any benefits. Jorgen wasn't angry about Galin's concealment; what concerned him was the childishness of such concealment. Prince Galin either had too much confidence he couldn't support or was clueless about what was happening. Jorgen decided to immediately shift the topic from "concealment" to more practical matters.

"I completely understand your concerns. Let's put aside this small unpleasantness and discuss something truly meaningful."

"Meaningful? Mr. Jorgen, your attitude earlier was somewhat out of line. Although considering your job position, it's not surprising." Galin leaned back on the chair, stretching his right shoulder. "But your rudeness served its purpose. At least now, I can't avoid the topic of Crecyda."

"Why did you invite her here? In our last meeting, you mentioned intending to execute her..."

"That was just a hypothesis. If she persists in her past actions and causes undeniable harm, I won't show mercy in punishment—I maintain that attitude. For now, she's under observation to prevent her from doing anything unnecessary and to see if there's a possibility of correcting her thinking."

"If she abandons all doubts, resolves not to investigate anything about the corpse and her husband anymore, what will you do? Release her?"

To be honest, if she made such a commitment, I wouldn't believe her. She has reached this point by fooling the public with lies. Unfortunately, I believe that when a person's character is crooked, it's challenging to correct. Regardless of her personal suffering from losing her husband, her current behavior prioritizes personal pain above all else, even instilling these ideas in others. However, although I said I wouldn't show mercy in punishment, it doesn't mean I would actively push her to the gallows. Perhaps finding a compromise is the best solution—preventing her from causing further harm without causing too much turmoil."

"Such a compromise may exist, but it's definitely not long-term confinement. The more she clearly feels your hostility, the harder it will be to resolve."

Jorgen noticed that Galin's expression was starting to turn unpleasant.

"I don't like your choice of words, Mr. Jorgen. 'Hostility'? I am the sovereign of a nation, and she, no matter what she is doing, is just an ordinary woman. Don't talk as if my generous actions are an 'offense' to her. Moreover, what exactly are you worried about?"

"Same as you, perhaps even more. She is the past wife of an individual, and for the psychological stability of that individual, the farther away she is, the better."

"But they cannot meet upstairs."

"Anything can happen. Anyway, this matter must be handled carefully."

"Since you think so, can you assist me?"

"Assist in doing what?"

"I suspect she hasn't been completely honest with me. Perhaps she already knows things she shouldn't. Mr. Jorgen, maybe you can dig into her background, interrogate her or whatever you excel at."

Jorgen pondered for a moment. This sounded like a significant opportunity, but he couldn't accept it without reservations. After the conversation with Renner, meeting Crecyda immediately seemed like the necessary next step, but only if Galin and Lawrence were not involved. Jorgen felt he shouldn't show too much interest in Crecyda too early, and revealing Renner's information to her immediately was too aggressive.

"I've noted your proposal, Prince Galin," Jorgen said. "I will arrange it at the appropriate time."

Although Jorgen had not been at Stromgarde for long, he had a rough understanding of the situation here. Under the strange and unstable alliance between Galin and Lawrence, everything was a mess, as if a torrential rain had washed into a pile of mud and weeds. While Jorgen thought his conversation with Renner might have been somewhat rash, delaying might not necessarily be a better strategy. Besides Crecyda, he needed to confirm the attitude of at least one more woman before deciding how to proceed with this mission.

In his room, Lawrence was transcribing something. His eyes moved quickly between the pages and the tip of the pen, and the writing under his pen became increasingly messy.

He couldn't understand where things had gone wrong but couldn't shake off the unease. Since Jorgen blocked him outside the corridor leading to the individual's room, he felt like an old fisherman forced to go to sea in bad weather, even if the storm hadn't truly arrived, the moisture in the air was enough to make him uneasy. Jorgen must have said something to the individual—Laurence had no basis for speculation, but he kept thinking so.

For that meeting, Lawrence questioned the individual in every way he could think of, trying to find evidence that Jorgen had said something he shouldn't have. But he found nothing. According to the individual, Jorgen only asked about training programs, dosage of medications, and the most intrusive question was, "How do you view Lawrence?" In Lawrence's view, there were two possibilities: either Jorgen didn't do anything suspicious, or he was manipulating an elaborate conspiracy and making the individual lie to cover it up. Lawrence knew the individual would never tell the whole truth, but if Jorgen could make him tell a lot of lies to keep the secrecy of their meeting, that would be the most terrifying thing for Lawrence. It wasn't just about being deceived; it was about someone using his creation to deceive him. He couldn't let the individual do what others couldn't.

Since learning that neither the old man nor Mardias had come, but Jorgen replaced them, Lawrence understood that something was wrong. Meeting Jorgen for the first time, he tried to conceal his distrust and disgust. He knew that for the old man, there were never permanent enemies or friends, but allowing such a detective, who had concealed Tusha-related intelligence, to represent the Seventh Bureau went beyond Lawrence's understanding—or imagination. Something must be wrong with the whole thing. Maybe the old man had lost his judgment; maybe Lawrence had become the common target of the old man and Jorgen.

No one could protect his research except himself. To deal with all unforeseen circumstances, he had to be prepared—just as he had always done.

He finished transcribing, pocketed the small scroll, and left the room. He declined the escort's request to accompany him, walked for half an hour, and entered a dilapidated house near the north city wall that had burned down halfway. Throughout the journey, he kept looking around, avoiding crowded places.

A person stood in the corner of the broken house, leaning tightly against the wall, as if trying to push his spine into the crack in the wall.

"Lord Lawrence," he said.

"Don't look so shady," Lawrence said, "No one is following me."

"I believe that, but... you have to be even more careful than me. At least a hundred times more careful."

Lawrence handed out the small scroll he had just transcribed. The other person took it, but his hand remained outstretched, even after Lawrence threw five gold coins into his palm.

"My lord, this job is getting harder and harder. Last time, when Varokar found out I left the team while resting, it was almost over. Your thoughts are absolutely safe, but it's still better to smooth things out with him."

"How is that possible? Even if I could talk to him, this guy is bottomless when it comes to demanding things."

"In that case, just give him a small part of what he wants. I'll take responsibility for it."

"You shameless bastard."

Lawrence added another three gold coins to the other person. The man pocketed both the scroll and the coins.

"Is it okay to leave it like this?" Lawrence asked.

"It's fine, no one will come to search."

"When did you follow Varokar this time?"

"Tonight at nine."

"Be more cautious."

"No worries, I'm always careful and meticulous in my work... For example, I certainly won't carry these eight gold coins on me. I'm afraid if the folks from Ravenholt see money on me, they'll forget everything. After all, they are born thieves, not to be trusted. The job is yours, but my life is my own."